Romans 6:12-23

The Collect for today – the prayer with which we began this morning’s liturgy – makes a reference, as a metaphor, to the Temple in Jerusalem.  And it’s a shocking metaphor.  It should be shocking.  The prayer is “that we be made a holy temple.”  That’s a reference to the Temple, no longer in Jerusalem.  The Temple – its foundation and cornerstone – is being re-created and joined together within you: within your person, within your soul and body.  You embody the Temple.  Now that’s a stretch of the imagination.

In Jesus’ day, Jerusalem was a city built on a hill, as we read in the Psalms.[i]  Within the walls of Jerusalem, the Temple Mount sat on the highest place: a huge structure of massive stonework – nearly 500,000 square feet in area[ii] – with crenelated walls, stunning archways and gates, and architectural demarcations to keep everyone in the place to which they belonged.  Inside the great encompassing outer wall was the Court of the Gentiles, and then, further within, were walled sanctuaries of increasing separation. At the very center was the Tabernacle, the innermost sanctuary being the Holy of Holies. Within the Holy of Holies sat the Ark of the Covenant containing the Ten Commandments given by God to Moses on Mount Sinai.  Only the Chief Priest would access this most inner sanctuary. 

So the Temple is a massive place, lifted high and holy. The Temple had breathtaking architectural splendor using the artistry of everything from massive stone columns and buttresses to the adornment of gold and great candelabras.  The Temple was the focal point for what was most important in life: for offering to God praise and petition, for offering thanksgiving and remorse, for the dedication of newborns, for the healing of the sick, and for the consolation of those who suffer and grieve. The Temple was a place intimately familiar to Jesus and his parents.  Forty days after Jesus’ birth, he was brought to the Temple by Mary and Joseph, who dedicated their firstborn son, Jesus,  to God, an act that was required by the law.[iii]  Observance of the law and attendance to Temple duties were very important to Jesus. By the time Jesus begins his public ministry, he is thor­oughly rooted and grounded in the tradition of his Jewish ancestors and in Temple practice. Shockingly, Jesus predicts the unimaginable: that this awesome and holy edifice will come down.  And it happens.  Within about 40 years of Jesus’ death, in year 70 the Temple is completely destroyed by the occupying Roman armies.[iv]

Which brings us back to the phrase in our opening Collect: “that we be made a holy temple.”  So what would that Temple look like?  It would look like you: that you “house” God; that you “incarnate” God.  That God lives within you.  We’re no longer talking about a walled city on a hill, with partitioned precincts, and with demarcations and sanctuaries for the most holy people.  We’re talking about you and me: we being God’s Temple.  Saint Paul, who, in his earlier days had worshiped in the Temple in the Jerusalem, came to see the temple, not as something to be rebuilt in Jerusalem but rather something to be reborn within us.  “Your body,” he writes, “is a temple of the Holy Spirit.”[v]  So how do you practice that embodiment?

At the most basic level, revere your body. Your body is the edifice in which you have have entered life, in which you have been shaped and formed in life, in which you practice life, in which you will part from this life.  Treat your body kindly, attentively, respectfully, peacefully, gently, gratefully, lovingly, in a holy way. You are precious in God’s eyes, and God embodies you.  You are God’s temple.

Temple that you are, is there some clutter within the walls of your life that needs to be cleared away or cleaned up: someone you need to forgive; a resentment you need to release; a vindictiveness you need to truce; an intruding practice you need to surrender? You’re God’s temple and – once more teasing out th[...]

Br. James Koester celebrates how Scripture conveys the mystery that is God through poetry, mystery, myth and metaphor, like the Ascension. "That doesn’t make it unreal," he explains, "Rather it makes it true."

Br. Jim Woodrum ponders the ways in which God has been made known to him around the table and int he nourishing presence of others.

Jn 12:44-50

The Gospel Reading for today is a discourse of Jesus making it clear that he did not come into the world on his own as an individual. We heard; “Whoever believes in me believes not in me but in him who sent me. And whoever sees me sees him who sent me.” (Jn 12: 44-45) 

This 12th Chapter of the Gospel according to John marks the transition from Jesus’ Ministry to his Passion and Resurrection. The relationship of Jesus with God the father was close.

As I prayed with this passage I began to see parallels in this lesson with the 3rd Chapter of this same Gospel, just after the account of Jesus’ visit from Nicodemus.  Probably verses 16-21 are commentary by the Evangelist. (Cf. Jn 3:16-21)

In John 3:17 it says that “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”  Today’s Gospel passage says, “I came not to judge the world, but to save the world.”  (Jn 12:47b)

At the end of today’s Gospel we heard, “The Father who sent me has himself given me a commandment ….  And I know that his commandment is eternal life.”

(Jn 12:49b-50a)

At the heart of the portion read as today’s Gospel Jesus said, “I have come as light into the world, so that everyone who believes in me should not remain in the darkness.” (Jn 12:46)  In the Book of Genesis we can read, “Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.” (cf. Gen. 3:1a) I think we can understand Jesus’ words about coming as light into the world not only as “the light of Christ”, but also the Light of God.

        When God calls will you be ready to come to that light?  (Cf. Jn 3:21)

Wisdom 7:7-14 &John 8:25-32

Feast of St. Gregory of Nazianzus

When I read and reflect upon our SSJE Rule, I am still often caught off guard at how core theological tenets of Christian faith are so vividly applied to the pressing realities of everyday human existence. For example, I return again and again to these words in our chapter on “The Witness of Life in Community”:

Our human vocation to live in communion and mutuality is rooted in our creation in God’s image and likeness. The very being of God is community; the Father, Son, and Spirit are One in reciprocal self-giving and love. The mystery of God as Trinity is one that only those living in personal communion can understand by experience. Through our common life we can begin to grasp that there is a transcendent unity that allows mutual affirmation of our distinctness as persons. Through prayer, we can see that this flows from the Triune life of God.[1]

This indeed has been my experience of life in monastic community, which has by far been my most powerful teacher in regard to the mystery of the Trinity. Before coming to life in this community, I struggled long and hard to appropriate this mystery of the faith as anything approaching a personal reality. Of course, this is what theology does at its best. The sublime and the mundane are brought into genuine conversation in such a way that human hearts are kindled, human desires are transfigured, and even human suffering becomes the royal road to larger Life. Rather than static words on the pages of books, however fascinating, theology begins to dance: it weaves a pattern of vibrant and dynamic movement into the shuffling steps of our pilgrimage even as it plants our feet firmly on stable ground that can bear our weight.

Gregory of Nazianzus, whom we remember today, is not a household name in the Western Church. But his mature and powerful theological reflections on the nature of God as Trinity have hada deep and formative impact on the course of church history. In the Eastern Church, Gregory is not remembered primarily as one member of a trio, the Cappadocian Fathers: Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus, and Gregory of Nyssa, all born in the same region of Turkey around 330 and responsible in a creative, collaborative and collegial way for developing a profound and coherent Trinitarian theology. The relationships between these men were not always as easy as hagiography would lead us to believe. They bickered and competed, were capable of clinging narrowly to their own opinions, and even broke one another’s hearts. Now, I am not a scholar of patristics. My primary love of the Triune God has come to me by way of the costly grace of personal communion and the stretching and transfiguring tensions of our common life in the Church. But in that light, I can tell you why the witness of Gregory of Nazianzus is relevant to me.I cannot continue in the word of Christ into that knowledge of the truth that I know will set me free without the grace of the Triune God.And I cannot hope to glimpse the creating, saving, and unifying interrelationship within the Trinity without the unrelenting synergy of shared discipleship, by which I am who I am and through which I am yet becoming who God intends me to be. Just as God is not a self-sufficient monad, neither can I do this alone. And, I’d say, neither can you.

Gregory of Nazianzus couldn’t have walked his own, unreproducible path of discipleship without his closest friend, Basil, and Basil’s brother, Gregory of Nyssa. It was that synergy of discipleship mirroring the self-spending love of the Trinity, as it unfolded around and between Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil that I want to reflect upon.

First, what does church history on a grand scale tell us about these two? Gregory and Basil are credited with heroic and singular contributions in defending the faith enshrined in the Nicene Creed from lesser, heretical viewpoints. What is heresy? In some cases, the thinkers, writers and leaders whom[...]

"It is hard to hear above the din and noise of the world, whose voices call us, especially these days, to be afraid, to be angry, to be jealous, to be selfish. But when we hear the voice of love calling us, challenging us, prodding us to greater and more unselfish love, then we can be certain that it is the voice of the Good Shepherd who calls. Our job as followers of Jesus is to learn to hear his voice."

In this sermon on discernment, Br. Jim Woodrum reflects on the experience of hearing and beginning a monastic vocation. He encourages all those who find themselves in the dark about where Jesus is leading them to simply take "the next best step." "He is present with you amidst the bewildering confusion and suffering."

How has Jesus been made known to you in your past – in time of feasting as well as in times of famine? Br. David Vryhof encourages us, "Draw on that memory, and the memory of God’s presence in the past to inform your faith as you walk into the future, that you may be assured of God’s love and care for you, and may proceed with hope and with confidence."

In all the uncertainty of our current moment, we may need to make Thomas’ request to Jesus our own prayer: "Show me the marks and let me touch them and I will believe."

On Good Friday, Br. Nicholas Bartoli invites us to enter into the paschal mystery as it unfolds for us now, letting our fear be buried with Jesus, to rise with him in new life.