Deacon Jared

The ninth century was a time of trial for many Christians in the eastern Roman empire, the lands today remembered as Byzantium. Once an empire stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to Palestine, Byzantium was in the early stages a steady decline of influence that ultimately ended in their extinction.

It had been in the 7th century that the rift between east and west began to take solid form. The Council of Trullo, accepted by the east but rejected by the west, codified many of the variant practices between east and west such as the celibacy of priests and the use of unleavened bread in the eucharist. And it wasn’t far into the future that this rift would become permanent.

It was also in the 7th century that Islam took control of large amounts of territory in northern Africa and the Middle East, including the Holy Lands, that was previously under Byzantine control.

Moreover, it was during the 8th and 9th century that the iconoclast controversy showed persecution of the Church, especially the monastic communities, by the Byzantine state.

After centuries as the lead religion in the eastern Roman empire, the Church began to feel persecuted. The alliance between the Roman government and the Byzantine Church was proving to be temporary and unstable.

It is in the midst of these trials, monks at the Monastery of the God-Trodden Mount Sinai in Egypt, deep in the heart of the Islamic empire, were granted a vision which led them to find the incorrupt body of St. Katherine the All-Wise of Alexandria, who lived and died in the pre-Christian, early 4th century empire, and had been buried centuries earlier on the mountain. The Egyptian monks were living in an un-Christian world after centuries of living in a Christian empire, and here was St. Katherine, a hero from another time, a time before there was a Christian empire. Likely because so many Byzantine Christians could see themselves in her story, the life of St. Katherine quickly became one of the most popular saints of all time. To this day the Monastery of the God-Trodden Mount Sinai is referred to at St. Katherine’s, Mount Sinai itself is labelled on maps as Mount Saint Catherine, and Katherine remains one of our most popular saint’s names.

The story of St. Katherine reads almost like a fairy tale. We all know the outline of this story. It goes something like this: “Once upon a time a beautiful princess, nearly perfect in every way, was trying to find her perfect prince. The princess caught the attention of an evil ruler whose authority is threatened by her in some way and he tries to kill her. Ultimately, her perfect prince arrives on the scene, saves her, and they live happily ever after.” Sound familiar? Listen for these tropes in the story of St. Katherine. They are all there. Some of them are spot on. And others are turned on their head to show their absurdity in the face of Christian truth.

St. Katherine is said to have been the most beautiful princess in all the lands surrounding Alexandria in Egypt. She is also said to have been very well-educated. This is not as strange as it sounds. Middle eastern culture at the time was actually relatively progressive, allowing women to be educated, own property, and have legal standing in ways that were not permitted in Greco-Roman society. Add this to her aristocratic roots and you can see where she might have had access to one of the greatest educations the world had to offer. In fact, her home Alexandria, famous as once being the home of one the greatest libraries in the world, was still largely considered the home to the world’s most influential thinkers. To be educated in Alexandria at that time would being educated at Oxford or Harvard today.

So Katherine was beautiful and smart, and the as the story goes she could not find a man worthy of her. Princes from around the world sought her hand, but she had no interest in them. They doubtless told her that she was beautiful and said how much they appreciated her wisdom, but she remained unimpressed. She told her parents that until they could find a man as handsome and wise as she, she would prefer to remain unmarried. This was, of course, a worry for her mother and father who strongly desired for her to get married.

Now Katherine’s mother was a secret Christian. At this crossroads in her life she sought council at a nearby monastery. The abbot invited her to bring Katherine to see him. Katherine speaks with the Abbot about her decision not to wed any who are not her equal in beauty and wisdom. The abbot does not scold her for her pride and arrogance or insist that she be obedient to her mother and father. Instead the abbot takes this opening to tell her that he knows of just such a prince and that he thinks he might be able to introduce them, though it might take a little work. Katherine is intrigued by this potential solution to her dilemma and agrees to whatever work might be necessary. The abbot offers her an icon of the Theotokos, tells her to pray to the icon unceasingly, and that if she does this the Theotokos will lead her to the promised wise and powerful prince.

We are not told how Katherine feels about this task she has been given to do, but we are told that she prays all night to the icon until finally, in a dream, the Theotokos speaks. Mary says to the child in her arms, “Behold your handmaiden, Katherine.” And what do you think happens? Remember the many courtiers and all the praise they had heaped upon Katherine? The Christ-child does the exact opposite. He turns his head away from her in disgust, saying, “She is filthy and ignorant. I will have nothing to do with her.” Katherine was taken aback by this greeting. She returns to the abbot and relates her vision. The abbot explains that Christ is indeed the prince of whom he had spoken, but that this prince sees her interior rather than her exterior and that she has much work to do in her heart before she can be truly married to this prince.

Inspired by this challenge, Katherine becomes a catechumen, studies, and is ultimately baptized, becoming a Christian. We are told that sometime after this, Katherine had a second vision where Christ again appeared to her, this time gifting her a ring, and that from that time forward she lived as if she were betrothed to Christ. Notice how this turns the fairy tale trope of the perfect princess marrying the perfect prince on its head. All Christians are called to find their true love and support in Christ alone. Spouses can help with this, but they are not the answer to all of life’s problems.

One day after this the emperor came to visit Alexandria and in celebration of his arrival sacrifices to the Roman gods were ordered to be made by all. Many of the Christians refused to participate, and those that were caught resisting were tortured. This stirred Katherine’s conscience and she knew that as royalty she would be allowed to speak out in a way than the other Christians would not. And so she made her way to the court to confront the emperor about his treatment of her fellow Christians.

Katherine is ultimately allowed to stand before the emperor, where she shows all due respect, prostrating herself before the emperor, before confessing her own Christianity and asking the emperor to cease his persecutions. Katherine goes on to recount to the emperor how many of the philosophers of the Greco-Roman tradition themselves reviled the Gods and how others considered them merely allegories, attempting to show that Christians were not alone in this notion.

We are told that because of her eloquence that the emperor was speechless in response. But instead of learning from Katherine, he saw Katherine as a threat. Why was she a threat? For one of the simplest reasons. As Christ foretold, “It is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” The emperor was in love with his wealth and power, and Christians were a threat to his power. Christians did not honor the emperor as a god, but rather worshiped Jesus Christ as their Lord and God. Christians did not respect class or power, but rather masters and slaves ate at table together. In this way Katherine was a prime example of the threat of Christianity, a wealthy patrician willing to risk persecution on behalf of the poor.

Rather than stop the persecutions, the emperor insisted that every philosopher in the region try to win this argument with Katherine. And remember this was Alexandria – there were philosophers on every corner! And so we are told that scores of them came out to debate with Katherine.

We are also told that she bested all of them. And, of course, her strong comportment was in many ways due to her education. You could say God had been preparing her for this moment even before she knew who He was. In one of the versions of the story the Angel Michael visits Katherine before her ordeal and tells her that the Lord will give her the strength and wisdom to endure. Again, it is not a white knight on his steed who sweeps in to save her, but it is the Lord who gives her what she needs to  face the emperor.

But I want to tell you something more. Each of us are given opportunities to speak about our faith and we can often keep silent because we feel unprepared. I want to tell you that I don’t think she simply outsmarted these men. The truth is that these philosophers could throw facts and theories and histories and traditions at her until they were blue in the face, but none of that mattered. Katherine was not defending a theory or a tradition, she was witnessing to a personal experience. She had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and no philosophical theory can assail that. So, pray. Purify your heart. If you have a relationship with your Lord and God and Savior, when you come to these moments in your life, He will give you the words to say. And I’m telling you right now the words will not be about Trinitarian dogma or the two natures of Christ. They will be words of understanding, love, and compassion. These are the words that lead others to Christ. Katherine herself was not converted by dogmas. She was converted by a personal encounter with Christ.

We are told that not only does Katherine withstand all of the philosophers, but that many of them were converted by her testimony. This infuriates the emperor and he orders Katherine thrown in prison and all of the converted philosophers to be killed. While Katherine is in prison, we are told that she is visited by the emperor’s wife and the captain of the royal guard. Katherine’s patient endurance of affliction is an inspiration to both the empress and the captain of the guard. Both are converted, along with a large number of the royal guard. We see here even more than before that Katherine’s witness is not her educated words but rather her life itself. She is able to be a witness to the power of Christ by willingly accepting persecution on behalf of the truth, just as her Lord had done centuries before. Imperial power always amounts to the power to prevent or bestow Death. The Lord of Life has overcome Death.

Orthodox theologian John Behr suggests that in the early Church it was understood that we would only become fully human as we united ourselves to Christ in the act of martyrdom. Among others, he sites St. Ignatius who wrote as he journeyed toward his own martyrdom that, “It is better for me to die in Christ Jesus than to be king over the ends of the earth. I seek him who died for our sake. I desire him who rose for us. Birth-pangs are upon me. Suffer me, my brethren….Suffer me to receive the pure light; when I shall have arrived there, I shall be a human being. Suffer me to follow the example of the passion of my God.” St. Ignatius sees himself as becoming fully human as he approaches his death where he will unite himself to Christ.

We are born slave or free, rich and poor, citizen or foreigner, male or female. We are born divided from one another in a million different ways. But we are all called to unity in Christ. And this unity is gained not by force, but by humility. And this humility will often include acceptance of persecution, for in this world it is common to persecute those who are different. But as Christians we are called to react to this hate and anger with love and patience and prayer. Thus both St. Ignatius and St. Katherine transcend their stations in life and become no longer partially human, but rather fully human in Christ. St. Katherine’s peaceful acceptance of tribulation, her willingness to use her status as royalty to defend her fellow Alexandrians, rather than hide herself away safety as she surely could have, is a witness to the fact that death holds no sway over her. She is not afraid of death at the hand of the Emperor, her emperor has overcome death.

Of course when the emperor discovers his wife and his guards have become Christians, he orders them tortured and killed. And he is about at his wits end with Katherine. He makes two more attempts at winning this battle. First he offers her a place at his side as the new empress. Like Christ in the wilderness, Katherine refuses this temptation to rule the world. And so then the emperor threatens to torture Katherine on a specially devised wheel. The wheel is described in some pretty gruesome detail that I won’t go into here – this particular princess story probably wouldn’t get a G rating – but Katherine shows courage and just as she is about to be put upon the wheel it is miraculously destroyed. It is this wheel of torture that is often seen beside St. Katherine in many of her icons.

At this point, the emperor sees that his arguments, his tortures, imprisonment, and bribery are all impotent in the face of Katherine’s faith and love for her Lord. Moreover, all of his efforts have served to convert many of his most loyal servants to Christianity. And so, with his plans ultimately frustrated, the emperor finally orders Katherine to be beheaded. And what is a display of the emperors greatest power is remembered as his ultimate failure. The emperor had done everything he could to separate St. Katherine from her betrothed, but instead he brought the two together for all the world to see.

We do not today face threats to life and limb for practicing our faith. Nonetheless Christian values such as charity, patience, kindness, humility, are often under assault. Acts of charity and kindness are ridiculed. Acts of patience and humility are taken as signs of weakness. In this context, the story of St. Katherine can be an inspiration to each of us. Each of us will be given opportunities to bear crosses in the name of our Lord. And every cross that is put before us is an opportunity to show our Christian distinction. When we bear our trials in patience and love rather than in anger, we stand out as different from those around us. And while we can be sure that many will react like the emperor and take the opportunity to attack us, there will also be those who are looking on that begin to wonder where our strength of conviction comes from. And we will be given the opportunity to share with them our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ, so that they too might have life with Him unto the ages of ages. Amen.

ST. PAUL'S SECOND LETTER TO THE CORINTHIANS 11:31-33; 12:1-9
Brethren, the God and Father of the Lord Jesus, he who is blessed for ever, knows that I do not lie. At Damascus, the governor under King Aretas guarded the city of Damascus in order to seize me, but I was let down in a basket through a window in the wall, and escaped his hands. I must boast; there is nothing to be gained by it, but I will go on to visions and revelations of the Lord. I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven -- whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows. And I know that this man was caught up into Paradise --whether in the body or out of the body I do not know, God knows -- and he heard things that cannot be told, which man may not utter. On behalf of this man I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. Though if I wish to boast, I shall not be a fool, for I shall be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me. And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I besought the Lord about this, that it should leave me; but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

LUKE 8:41-56
At that time, there came to Jesus a man named Jairus, who was a ruler of the synagogue; and falling at Jesus' feet he besought him to come to his house, for he had an only daughter, about twelve years of age, and she was dying. As he went, the people pressed round him. And a woman who had had a flow of blood for twelve years and had spent all her living upon physicians and could not be healed by anyone, came up behind him, and touched the fringe of his garment; and immediately her flow of blood ceased. And Jesus said, "Who was it that touched me?" When all denied it, Peter and those who were with him said, "Master, the multitudes surround you and press upon you!" But Jesus said, "Some one touched me; for I perceive that power has gone forth from me." And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace." While he was still speaking, a man from the ruler's house came and said, "Your daughter is dead; do not trouble the Teacher any more." But Jesus on hearing this answered him, "Do not fear; only believe, and she shall be well." And when he came to the house, he permitted no one to enter with him, except Peter and John and James, and the father and mother of the child. And all were weeping and bewailing her; but he said, "Do not weep; for she is not dead but sleeping." And they laughed at him, knowing that she was dead. But taking her by the hand he called, saying, "Child, arise." And her spirit returned, and she got up at once; and he directed that something should be given her to eat. And her parents were amazed; but he charged them to tell no one what had happened.

I’d like to start today by looking at the words we just read from St. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. St. Paul relates the story of one who has experienced the heavenly paradise and heard the voice of God. This is generally considered to be Paul humbly speaking of his own experiences, trying to play them down by speaking of them in the third person. He goes on to say that his true glory is not in these visions, but rather in his weaknesses.

I don’t know about you, but that is not where I find my glory. Paul said that he refrains from boasting about his connection to God, “So that no one may think more of me than he sees in me or hears from me.” Again, who does that? Who among us goes to an important meeting without dressing up a little, practicing what we are going to say – hoping that whoever we are meeting will think more of us than we actually are. We all put up a little bit of a façade and sometimes pretend to be more than we are.

But not Paul. Notice how he doesn’t even take credit for his humility. “And to keep me from being too elated by the abundance of revelations,” Paul shares, “a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan, to harass me, to keep me from being too elated.” St. Paul credits “a thorn in the flesh” for keeping him humble. It doesn’t matter in particular what this trouble was – St. John Chrysostum suggests he is referring to his frequent persecutors – but the point is that St. Paul finds purpose in it. He sees it as a gift from God to keep him humble.

Now, he doesn’t wallow in the suffering, or seek it out. In fact, he asked the Lord repeatedly to remove this particularly difficult cup. But the response Paul received was, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." And given that answer, Paul accepts the thorn.

And in that an swer, we see first where Paul learns his humility. Paul is willing to live in humility, because his master lived in humility. Jesus’ power is “made perfect in weakness.” But I we should also admit that this is a very confusing teaching. There’s the obvious confusion involved in weakness being seen as power, but as Christians we surely have become used to that. That’s just the normal confusion  we expect from our Lord -  “the last shall be first,” “the meek shall inherit the earth,” there’s a definite pattern.

But what are we to make of Christ’s power being made perfect in our weakness? Or being made perfect at all? Isn’t it already perfect? How can anything we do make anything about him more perfect? But this is not an isolated case, where we can think that perhaps Paul misspoke or maybe it’s an awkward translation. St. Paul wrote something very similar in his letter to the Colossians, “I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up in my flesh what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ, for the sake of His body, which is the Church.” (Col. 1:24) For Paul, his own sufferings fill up “what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ.” What could be lacking? What needs yet to be made perfect? I suspect the clue is in the next phrase, where Paul says he does this “for the sake of [Christ’s] body, which is the Church.” Christ’s power is made perfect in Paul’s weakness. Paul’s affliction fill up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions. What are we to make of this?

Jesus often liked to answer difficult questions with stories instead of direct answers, so by way of answering this question I would like to turn at this point to today’s Gospel reading. In this reading from the Gospel of Luke, a very prominent man is dealing with a very serious thorn in his flesh – his daughter is dying. We are told that this man’s name is Jairus and that he is the head of the local synagogue. Worried for his daughter, Jairus throws himself at the feet of Jesus and begs Jesus to come to his house and heal his daughter.

It is worth noting, I believe, that Luke tells this story just one chapter after he has told the story of the centurion. The centurion sends his servants to ask Jesus to heal his ailing friend. And when Jesus offers to visit his house, the centurion says that he doesn’t need to bother with that, that he believes Jesus can heal his servant with a word. Jesus publicly commends the centurion for his faith saying, “I have not found such great faith in Israel.” And then he heals the servant with a word just as the centurion believed he could. So then in today’s story, by asking Jesus to come to his house, Jairus shows less faith than the centurion. But nonetheless Jesus heads toward his house.

And as they go, a great crowd is packing in around them. This crowd has been building because of Jesus’ healing miracles and they are hoping to see a truly great miracle performed for this man they all know. What a show! And as this clamor builds and the crowd presses in on Jesus, he suddenly stops. Now take a moment to imagine the scene. Jairus’ daughter is dying. Jesus stopping at this moment in the story is like an ambulance suddenly flipping off its siren and lights and pulling to the side of the road.

And not only does Jesus stop, but then he begins to sound like a fool. “Who touched me?” he asks. His disciples are unsure how to answer. “Um, Jesus, at least a half dozen people have touched you in the past 30 seconds. I think we should get going. Jairus’ daughter, um, she’s dying.” Jesus doesn’t move. He insists that somebody touched him, saying now that he felt power come out of him. The crowd is confused. The disciples are uncomfortable. Jairus must have been beside himself – did I mention his daughter is dying? Jesus seems to be waiting for something – something that must be pretty important.

And then it happens. A woman who we are told was trying to hide finally realized that Jesus was not going to let her stay anonymous. Slowly, she came forward trembling. Trembling. I mean, she must have been scared. The whole procession is being held up for her. Everybody is staring at her, wondering what could be so important.

Luke explains that this woman had been hemorrhaging blood for twelve years. Not only is this bleeding a terrible illness, but we should also understand that in this culture it would have rendered her ritually unclean. So there was a social stigma to this condition, as well. So here we have, socially speaking, the exact opposite of Jairus. An anonymous outcast is standing in the way of healing the prominent Jairus’ daughter.

This woman had asked nothing of Christ – not his time, his touch, or even his gaze. She had merely touched his garment as he passed with the faith that this humble interaction could bring her healing. And it did. And just as he had commended the gentile centurion, so Jesus commends this woman for her faith before all the multitudes: “Daughter, your faith has made you well,” he says. “Go in peace.”

Now, during this hold up, the worst happens. Jairus’ servants arrive to tell him that his daughter has indeed passed away. This had to be terrible news for Jairus. He had made a spectacle of himself before Jesus and they had been on their way to save her. If only this woman hadn’t gotten in the way. He had to have been frustrated.

But Jesus hears the news and tells Jairus to “fear not, believe only, and she will be made whole.” We are not told what Jairus thinks of this prognosis, but we are told that they continue on to the house.

When they arrive, the multitudes who have come to see this great miracle are joined by the household of Jairus who are wailing and making dirges. Jesus likely disappoints all of them all when he allows no one to come in with him except his closest disciples – Peter, James, and John – and the parents. He tells the crowd to stop their crying, for the girl is only asleep. And instead of showing faith, we are told they “laughed him to scorn.” It is unclear in Luke, but when Mark tells the story it definitely sounds like the parents and the disciples join in on this scorn. And that might sound harsh, but remember the disciples did not exactly react in faith when Jesus later said something similar about Lazarus.

But their lack of faith does not deter Jesus. Just as his Father in heaven causes the sun to shine on the wicked and righteous alike, Jesus enters the house and says to the girl, “Arise.” And she does just that.

Jairus’ is not scorned for his little faith. He had indeed offered up what little faith he had. It is not nothing for such a prominent man to prostrate himself before an itinerate preacher like Jesus. Or to let Jesus come into his house, even after all Jesus’ delays had allowed for his daughter to die. Jairus probably wanted nothing to do with Jesus, but he allowed Jesus to proceed. And Jesus accepts this humble offering and heals his daughter.

Jesus turned aside from following the prominent Jairus to heal the anonymous woman in the streets. Jairus made a great display of his request, the woman simply and humbly touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. Jairus asked Jesus to come to his house and lay hands on his daughter, the woman dragged herself to meet Jesus. And Jesus makes a display of the woman’s faith in front of the multitudes, while he tells Jairus and his wife to tell no one what he has done.

This is because the woman and her faith are witnesses to the power of Christ, for the power of Christ is not displayed in miraculous healings. The miracle in this story is the faith of the woman. It is her humility and faith that Jesus takes time to make sure everybody sees. The humility and faith of this woman are the true witnesses to the power of Christ.

And so, with this story as context, let us return to question posed by St. Paul’s epistles. What is lacking in Christ’s suffering that our weakness can fill up? And rather than hear from me, I would like to read a passage from the writing of the fifth century Saint Diadochos of Photiki, who answers this question in a way that brings these threads together: “As wax cannot take the imprint of a seal unless it is warmed or softened thoroughly, so a man cannot receive the seal of God’s holiness unless he is tested by labors and weaknesses. That is why the Lord says to St. Paul, ‘My grace is suffient for you: for My power comes to its fullness in your weakness’....By weaknesses the Apostle means the attacks made by the enemies of the Cross, attacks which continually fell upon him and all the saints of that time....But by weaknesses we now mean evil thoughts and bodily illnesses. In those times, since their bodies were submitted to deadly tortures and other afflictions, those pursuing the spiritual way were raised far above the passions which normally attack human nature as a result of sin. Today, however, since by the Lord’s grace peace prevails in the Church, the bodies of those contending for holiness have to be tested by illnesses, and their souls tried by evil thoughts…so that they can be stripped of all vanity and conceit, and can therefore, as I said, receive in their hearts the seal of divine beauty through their great humility….We must therefore submit to the Lord’s will thankfully; for then our frequent illnesses and our fight against demonic thoughts will be counted a second martyrdom….So we should fulfill our inward martyrdom before God with confidence and patience.”

We frequently read about martyrdom in scripture and the lives of the saints, by which is often meant death at the hands of the enemies of the cross. But Saint Diadochos tells us that we can be confident that the illnesses, temptations, and other troubles we experience in our daily lives right here in the Quad Cities can also become a martyrdom if endured in patience and love. And what is a martyrdom? The word “martyr” has been so associated with death that we immediately think of Christians in coliseums when we hear the word, but the root of the word is “witness.” When the martyrs endured torture and death in patience and love, they were a witness to the true power of Christ, Christ whose power is made perfect in our weaknesses. And we are no less a witnesses to this power when we endure the struggles of our lives with faith, hope, and love. What a glorious opportunity set before us each and every day.

May we be like St. Paul, may we be like that humble woman, may we each of us strive to accept the troubles and temptations that come our way with patience and love, running with endurance the race that is set before us, looking always to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for our sake endured the cross, thinking nothing of the shame, and is seated even now at the right hand of the Father, to whom be all glory, honor, and worship, forever. Amen.

2 CORINTHIANS 4:6-15
Brethren, it is the God who said, "Let light shine out of darkness," who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For while we live we are always being given up to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. Since we have the same spirit of faith as he had who wrote, "I believed, and so I spoke," we too believe, and so we speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. For it is all for your sake, so that as grace extends to more and more people it may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God.

LUKE 6:31-36
The Lord said, "As you wish that men would do to you, do so to them. If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. And if you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful."

 What’s that smell? It smells like death. Did something die in here? We’ve all had that moment, right? The moment when your nose fills with something rotten and you do your best to hold your breath. Quick! Find it! Get it out of here! The smell of death and rot is the worst. So, did you know that’s what we all smell like? Or at least we’re supposed to.

We read a passage today from St. Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians. To give some context to our passage, I’m going to jump just a bit earlier in the same letter. It is there that Paul says: “We are for God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved, as well as among those who are perishing. To the one we are the scent of death leading to death, and to the other the scent of life leading to life.” Now that’s special. We are called by God to bear the fragrance of Christ, and that fragrance is to some the stench of death, but to others the aroma of life. So, yes, to much of the world, we stink of death.

This letter was addressed to Corinth, a very prominent city in the Roman world. Rome had largely taken control of Greece at the end of the Second Macedonian War, around 150 BC, by leveling Corinth and forcing Macedonia and their Greek allies to surrender. By the time Paul is writing, 200 years later, it has been rebuilt and is serving as the provincial capital of Greece for Rome. As such, it was a very metropolitan city, attracting Romans, Syrians, Egyptians, and Jews from around the empire. And as Paul attempted to bring all of these diverse peoples together within one church, it was likely inevitable that there would arise differing factions. This is perhaps why Paul dwells so much on themes of the proud being humbled and God’s preference for the weak.

In his first letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul had written, “And base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: So that no flesh should glory in his presence.” St. John Chrysostom points out in his commentaries on Corinithians that the Lord has always worked in this manner. He has always elevated the weak and toppled the strong. “In the Old Testament,” he wrote, “whole hosts were turned to flight by gnats and flies, wherefore also he called the caterpillar his mighty force; and in the beginning, by only confounding tongues, he put a stop to that great tower of Babylon. And in their wars, too, at one time, he routed innumerable hosts by three hundred men; at another he overthrew cities with trumpets; and afterwards by a little and poor stripling, David, he turned to flight a whole army. So then here also, sending forth twelve only he overcame the world; and those twelve persecuted and warred against.”

So Chrysostom sees no change in the Lord’s behavior between the time of the tower of Babel and the days of St. Paul. God has always aligned himself with the poor and oppressed. This is in fact how the Lord introduced himself to Moses in the burning bush, “I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry; for I know their sorrows; And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land flowing with milk and honey.” The Lord hears the sorrows of his people.

And indeed he saves his people, working in the process many of the miracles cited above, freeing the enslaved Israelites and creating a free people. But after they live in the land of milk and honey for a time, they forget who gave it to them and begin to beg for a king to rule over them. In answer to this, Samuel declares, “Thus saith the Lord God of Israel, I brought up Israel out of Egypt, and delivered you out of the hand of the Egyptians, and out of the hand of all kingdoms, and of them that oppressed you: And ye have this day rejected your God, who himself saved you out of all your adversities and your tribulations; and ye have said unto him, Nay, but set a king over us.” To God, Israel’s longing for a king is essentially a longing to return to slavery. Eventually, God relents and allows Israel to have a king, and gives this king the mandate to care for his people.

King David, the young stripling who had put armies to flight, rose to be one of the greatest of these kings. But even he was brought low. St. Paul alluded to one of his psalms in his letter this morning when he wrote, “I believed, and so I spoke.” This is an excerpt from Psalm 115. Let me read just a bit more from that text.

“The Lord preserveth the simple: I was brought low, and he helped me. Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. For thou hast delivered my soul from death, mine eyes from tears, and my feet from falling. I will walk before the Lord in the land of the living. I believed, therefore have I spoken: I was greatly afflicted: I said in my haste, ‘All men are liars.’ What shall I render unto the Lord for all his benefits toward me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the name of the Lord. I will pay my vows unto the Lord now in the presence of all his people. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”

In this Psalm, David realizes that “the Lord preserves the simple” and that he needed to be afflicted and brought low before he was in a place where the Lord could help him. We are often too proud. It is difficult for the Lord to show us the way when we believe we already know it.

But when we are humble, when we are quiet, the Lord is able to work great things through us. St. Paul told us this morning, “Friends, it is the same God who said, ‘Let light shine out of the darkness,’ who now has shone in our hearts…But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, to show that the transcendent power belongs to God and not to us.” In the same way that God raised up slaves to become a free people, and raised a stripling boy to become a king, he has placed his divine image within our earthen bodies. And as with the kings of old, this gift came with a responsibility.

St. Paul goes on to say, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.”  Here we learn that it is specifically as we are persecuted that the image of God is most fully manifest in our body.

For when Jesus was healing the sick and feeding the hungry and speaking the truth, the masses were more than ready to follow him. They paraded with him into Jerusalem shouting, “Hosanna! Glory to God in the Highest!” The world loves all of these things. And we are called to follow his example by feeding and healing and teaching. And it is easy to be excited about doing these great works. But when that same Jesus was captured, beaten, and mocked, those same masses cried out, “We have no king but Caesar!” It’s so much harder to follow our Lord’s example in the face of such crosses.

But that is what we are called to do. And it is there that we take up the fragrance of Christ, the fragrance that is the stench of death to those who are dying but the aroma of life to those being saved. So what does Christ smell like to you? What do you see when you look at the cross? Is it an instrument of death or the tree of life?

How we answer that question will have a lot to do with how we greet the crosses in our own life. If we cannot see the potential for life in the cross of Christ, we will have difficulty seeing it in our own crosses. Listen to the words of St. Mark the Ascetic: “It is a great virtue to accept patiently whatever comes and, as the Lord enjoins, to love a neighbor who hates you. The sign of sincere love is to forgive wrongs done to us. It was with such love that the Lord loved the world.”

St. Paul says something similar to the Corinthians: “We give no offense in anything, that our ministry may not be blamed. But in all things we commend ourselves as ministers of God: in much patience, in tribulations, in needs, in distresses, in stripes, in imprisonments, in tumults, in labors, in sleeplessness, in fastings; by purity, by knowledge, by longsuffering, by kindness, by the Holy Spirit, by sincere love, by the word of truth, by the power of God, by the armor of righteousness on the right hand and on the left, by honor and dishonor, by evil report and good report; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing all things.” Christ is manifest in us when we meet tribulations, distress, and tumult – when we meet our crosses – with patience, kindness, truth, and love.

These same virtues were also taught by Jesus in today’s Gospel reading, “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them….But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the selfish. Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful." Love your enemies? To the world that looks like weakness. Give and expect nothing in return? That is foolishness! But that kind of weakness, that kind of foolishness, is in truth the power and wisdom of God. For “God hath chosen the foolish things of the world to confound the wise; and God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty.”

There will be those who visit our space here and won’t recognize it as a church. Maybe they expect a bigger building or more people. Or maybe they expect to find a charismatic preacher at a pulpit. But the truth is that Jesus does not need buildings so large they can hold hundreds or thousands of people, what he wants are hearts so large they can love the entire world. And Jesus does not need a prestigious congregation; he would much prefer two or three who are able to interact with one another in humility and grace. And he has no need for revolutionary speeches, for the power to transform the world is much more likely to be found in prayerful hearts.

The masses will always seek a spectacle, and the skeptics will always seek proofs: And all we will ever have to offer is Christ crucified and ourselves crucified with him. This will always be a disappointment to the masses, and nonsense to the skeptics. But to those who are being saved, who recognize in the cross the scent of life, it is our love that in the end will best display the wisdom and power of God - to whom be all glory honor and worship, forever. Amen.

MATTHEW 15:21-28
At that time, Jesus went to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And behold, a Canaanite woman from that region came out and cried, "Have mercy on me, O Lord, Son of David; my daughter is severely possessed by a demon." But he did not answer her a word. And his disciples came and begged him, saying, "Send her away, for she is crying after us." He answered, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel." But she came and knelt before him, saying, "Lord, help me." And he answered, "It is not fair to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." She said, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table." Then Jesus answered her, "O woman, great is your faith! Be it done for you as you desire." And her daughter was healed instantly.

What would you do for your sick child? How far would you go? What kind of hardships would you endure to save your child? I think every parent here knows that they would do just about anything to save our children from harm. And that is precisely the situation presented in today’s Gospel. Today we meet a woman whose daughter, we are told, is severely possessed. This mother is in dire straits. We are told that she comes out of her lands to find Jesus. In Mark’s version of this meeting account, we learn that Jesus has intentionally hidden himself away and asked that no one share his location. But away from her home and with Jesus hiding himself, this desperate mother manages to find him anyway.

And so it is that when she finds Jesus, she cries out to him, “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.” And we are told that Jesus does not say a thing. And this can be a difficult thing for us to understand, so this morning I would like to explain the encounter between this woman and Jesus.

The church sees in this story an image of our own prayer life. First, it is the experience of every one of us that often, when we seek God, it seems that we find him hidden away. This can be meant in the most tangible of ways – the notion that we cannot see God or touch God. But it can also be in the less tangible ways. Doubtless there have been times in your life that God where you would say that God felt present. But I would also guess that for most of us, there have been other times, times when God feels a little more distant; and in those times we might tempted to question why we are praying at all. At these times, I am always reminded of a passage toward the beginning of Metropolitan Anthony Bloom’s book Beginning to Pray. It is a fabulous book. It is short, but powerful. I can’t recommend it enough. I will quote from it a few times this morning, but you should seek it out and read it if you haven’t. In the introduction, he says: “The day when God is absent, when He is silent - that is the beginning of prayer. Not when we have a lot to say, but when we say to God, 'I can't live without You, why are You so cruel, so silent?' This knowledge that we must find or die – that makes us break through to the place where we are in the Presence.” God’s silence brings us to the place where we are in His Presence. God’s silence is a test. Will we remain faithful? Or will we despair? God can only truly meet us when we are aware of our need for Him. And thus it is often crisis that fuels our faith, because crisis helps reveal to us that we are truly in need. And it is also crisis can make us willing to leave our comfortable homes and seek out a cure.

The Church is unanimous that in this passage that Jesus is testing this woman. And furthermore, that he is testing her with the very specific intent of making a display of her great faith for all to see. The Gospels are very consistent about making a display of the faith of the Gentiles and contrasting this faith with that of the Israelites. Jesus compliments and rewards the faith of the blind Samaritan, the Roman Centurion, and this Canaanite woman. And whose faith does he criticize? The Pharisees, the Sadducees, and more often than not, his own disciples. When Peter can’t walk out to him on the water: “Oh you of little faith.” When the disciples are confused about his parables: “Oh you of little faith.” And when the disciples cannot heal a lunatic, Jesus names their entire generation as faithless and rebukes his disciples saying, “If you even had faith the size of a mustard seed you would say to this mountain move and it would move.”

There is another great passage in Anthony Bloom’s Beginning to Pray that speaks to the disciples lack of faith. It is his description of the story where the disciples are all in a panic as their ship is buffeted by a storm, as Jesus is sleeping below the decks. Metropolitan Bloom explains that, “Then at a certain moment they lose heart, and the storm that was outside comes inside – the storm is within them too. Anguish and death no longer simply circle round, they come inside. And then [the disciples] turn to Christ and do what we very often do with God: we look at God in time of stress and tragedy, and we are indignant that He is so peaceful. The story in the Gospel underlines it by saying that Christ was sleeping with His head on a pillow - the final insult. They are dying and He is comfortable. This is exactly what we feel about God so often. How dare He be blissful, how dare He be so comfortable when I am in trouble? And the disciples do exactly what we do so very often. Instead of coming to God and saying ‘You are peace, you are the Lord, say a word and my servant will be healed, say a word and things will come right,’ they shake Him out of His sleep and say 'Don't you care that we are perishing?' In other words, 'If you can do nothing, at least don't sleep. If you can do nothing better, then at least die in anguish with us.' Christ reacts, He gets up and says 'Men of little faith!' and brushing them aside, He turns towards the storm and, projecting His inner stillness, His harmony and peace, on the storm He says 'Be still, be quiet' and everything is quiet again.”

Why do I emphasize this lack of faith so much? Because we must remember that we are the disciples in these storys – never quite understanding what is going on, often getting impatient and angry that God is not doing what we expected. Every one of these stories of the disciples is intended as a warning for us, for we here today are Jesus’ disciples. When life gets tough, does our faith shine through? Or does it prove to be less than a grain of mustard seed? And when we prove ourselves faithless, I promise you that Jesus find faith to display elsewhere. And I guarantee it will be found within those we least expect.

So the woman’s first test is Jesus’ silence, but it is not her last test. When she proves that she cannot be stopped, Jesus finally responds. And Jesus responds with a very off-putting remark, the kind of remark this Canaanite woman was quite likely the expecting to receive from a Jewish Rabbi. “I was sent only to the lost sheep of Israel.” She doubtless knew that Gentiles were largely considered unclean by Israelites, and even more so that it was unseemly for a woman to approach a man in public. But this woman courageously approached anyway, because she was in crisis.

And when she is not deterred, he gets even harder. “It is not fair to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” And this would certainly appear to be his final word, but this concerned mother asked one more time. But more than asking again, she humbly bears the insult for the sake of her daughter. She doesn’t reply, “How dare you call me a dog!” She accepts this insult with grace and asks simply for the dog’s due. She asks for the crumbs. For she understands in her heart what the disciples could not comprehend – that just as a mustard seed can move mountains, that crumbs, when they fall from Christ’s table, have the power to save.

Again, the Church portrays these Christ’s reproofs here as tests. I thought it would be good at this point to read you St. John Chrysostum’s take on this interaction: “Justly did Christ say, ‘For judgement I am come.’ The woman practices high self-command, and shows forth all endurance and faith….With this intent did Christ put her off, for He knew she would say this; for this did He deny the grant, that He might exhibit her high self-command. For if he had not meant to give, neither would he have given afterwards, nor would He have stopped her mouth again. But as He does in the case of the Centurion, saying, ‘I will come heal him,’ that we might learn the godly fear of that man…and as He doth in the case of her that had the issue of blood, saying, ‘I perceive that virtue has gone out of me,’ that he might make her faith manifest; and as in the case of the Samaritan woman, that He might show how not even upon reproof she desists: so also here, He would not that so great virtue in the woman should be hid. Not in insult were His words spoken, but in calling her forth, and revealing the treasure laid up within her.”

As Chrysostum points out, to meet Christ is to meet our Judge. This is the same Lord who allowed Satan to test Job. Every struggle in life is a test, an opportunity to show our faith or our lack thereof. In the Lord’s prayer we say, “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Another common translation reads, “Put us not to the test, but deliver us from evil.” Evil, hardship, these things are tests for our faith. This is the decision put before us time and again – Will this trial grow my faith? Or will it snuff it out? Again, I will read just a bit from Beginning to Pray: “To meet God face to face in prayer is a critical moment in our lives, and thanks be to God that He does not always present Himself to us when we wish to meet Him, because we might not be able to endure such a meeting. Remember the many passages in Scripture in which we are told how bad it is to find oneself face to face with God, because God is power, God is truth, God is purity. Therefore, the first thought we ought to have when we do not tangibly perceive the divine presence, is a thought of gratitude.”

In our story today, the Canaanite woman did come face to face with God and she showed her true mettle. How many of us have allowed little grievances with our friends, or our family, or our church, to cause great schisms? How many times have we heard a word we didn’t quite agree with, or a song that didn’t quite please us, or a greeting that wasn’t happy enough, and we take these things as excuses to abandon our community? I know as well as anyone these struggles. Community is never easy. But the faith of this woman is to be admired and emulated.

The miracle in today’s Gospel is not the healing of the daughter. Jesus is the ruler of the heavens and the earth, casting out a demon is nothing for him. But the human heart is a thing that God leaves to its own devices. God allows each and every one of us to decide how we will respond to these tests. And the faith this woman displayed to the world was nothing short of miraculous. The Disciples had been given everything and, prior to the miracle at Pentecost, are repeated declared to be of little faith. But this woman; this Canaanite woman! Jesus hides from her. Jesus reproves her. And nevertheless she persists. It is this kind of faith that every one of us is called on to emulate.

I would like to end by returning to my first question. What would you do to save your child? What would you do to save your family? And I would like to remind you where this Canaanite woman found her faith. Here faith was found within her love for her daughter. Look around you here – you are surrounded by your brothers and your sisters. Every one of us has needs, great and small. Look at your families and your friends – I guarantee many of them, likely every one of them, stands around you in need. Learn to love to your neighbors, your friends, your family. Make their sufferings your sufferings. “Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep.” For just as the Canaanite woman found faith within the love of her daughter, you may find your own within your love of friend and neighbor. It can seem immodest to work for our own reward, but it can be liberating to work on behalf of one we love.

In today’s epistle, Paul wrote to Timothy, “Remember…the gospel for which I am suffering and wearing fetters like a criminal. But the word of God is not fettered. Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, that they also may obtain salvation in Christ Jesus with its eternal glory.” Paul says here that he is willing to endure imprisonment and eventually even death for the sake of his brothers and sisters. May we follow the example set by St. Paul and by the Canaanite woman. For if we can muster even a sliver of their faith, a crumb, a mustard seed of faith, we can be assured that Jesus will use it to move mountains.

Amen.