Sermon for Proper 16 B (RCL), Offered by Nathan Ferrell at HS, Bellmawr & St. Luke’s, Westville
Texts: 1 Kings 8:22-30,41-43; Psalm 84; Ephesians 6:10-20; John 6:56-69
I have heard of a prominent African-American preacher on the radio who started one of his sermons by warning his congregation that he didn’t want to see any Christian streakers running around that church! He went on the explain that Christian streakers are folks who wear only the helmet of salvation and nothing else. That is, they think about what it means to live in Christ but they do not put on the whole armor of God to cover their entire bodies.
Well, today is our chance, my dear friends, to make sure that we are not embarrassed by being scantily clothed! Today is our opportunity to look together in close detail at St. Paul’s famous exhortation to put on the whole armor of God. This really is a fun passage of scripture. Rarely are we given such a clear metaphor around which we can thoroughly wrap our minds. But today we are given this in St. Paul’s description of the whole armor of God.
What are we to think about this metaphor? St. Paul clearly is suggesting that those of us who live as Christians in the world need protection. Protection from spiritual forces of evil. Remember where St. Paul is when this is written. He is “an ambassador in chains”. He is being held in prison by the Roman authorities, and the context here suggests that he spent much time watching the Roman soldiers guarding the prison. The common Roman armor was well-known to Paul and it served as very clear example for his hopes and prayers for the community of disciples who received his letters.
What are the parts of the typical Roman armor? How does St. Paul lay these out in order?
First we begin with the belt of truth.
We shouldn’t think here of a belt needed to hold up baggy pants, but rather a thick, strong belt like the kind that weightlifters wear to protect their lower backs and their abdomen. This kind of belt holds your “guts” in place; it keeps everything together.
The truth of the gospel provides this kind of support for us. When we are under pressure, under attack, the truth that we know deep in our gut can help us to stand.
What comes next in the armor list? …The breastplate of righteousness. Let’s remember what righteousness is, because this is a word that is sorely misunderstood by many. In the New Testament, righteousness means true, inner goodness. It means that which makes someone truly right on the inside. The breastplate protects the heart and all the vital organs of the torso. This breastplate protects the heart of the believer, filled with goodness and love in the one who is connected in a living relationship with the Lord of life.
And so we move along in this apostolic list. What piece of armor is next? …Shoes for the feet. And not just any old shoes, but those things that make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. The word used here suggests military boots or sandals that would prepare a soldier for a long march. To strive for justice and peace among all people requires long-term commitment, a willingness to persevere in seeking reconciliation in every situation. As St. Paul encouraged elsewhere: “As far as it is possible, be at peace with all people” (Romans 12:18).
And what is it next that the apostle says we must take? The shield of faith. And why do we need this shield? The one referred to here in the original Greek is the large full-body shield used by the soldiers in battle. Flaming arrows were commonly used in battle, and these large shields, covered as they were in thick leather, could withstand such attacks without burning. Likewise then, faith, trust, confidence in the living God allows us to withstand waves of doubt and despair which so often fall upon us.
And with the shield, we need something to protect our heads. What is this called? The helmet of salvation. As we all know, it is with the mind that we think, that we make decisions. And these decisions that we make often have far-reaching consequences. We need to protect our mind, protect our ability to make wise decisions, so that we are led astray by the foolishness of this world.
But so far, we still have one hand free. Our defensive hand is set with the shield of faith. But our other hand is available for counter-attack. And what is it that we need to do this? The sword of the Spirit. And what is the sword of the Spirit? It is the word of God.
Did you hear what our Lord taught today in our gospel reading?
“The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life” (Jesus in John 6:63). The disciples of the Lord have always clung to the clear teachings of Jesus and the apostles, and to the Psalms, to provide light in the darkness, to show a clear direction when we are confused by diverging voices whispering in our ears.
And so with our two hands we can both defend and attack. With the shield of faith, we are prepared to defend ourselves against despair and hopelessness. And with the sword of the Spirit, we are equipped to be on the offensive, to push back against the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of God through hatred, greed, pride and violence.
But look now! Now that we are arrayed in this whole armor of God, what is it that the apostle calls us to do? Pray in the Spirit, he says. Keep alert, and pray. It would be foolish to say that our physical efforts to do good are not necessary, but we are well reminded that our task is and will always be first and foremost a spiritual one.
Notice please that St. Paul specifically mentions more than once the importance of utilizing the whole armor of God. Not just one or two pieces, but the entire arrangement. This emphasis is clearly intentional. All of these items work together in concert to achieve the singular goal of preparing us to survive and thrive within the human society around us.
There is no question about the outcome of events, about the general arc of the universe toward justice: Christ has already defeated the spiritual forces of wickedness through the cross, but our direct struggle continues on a daily basis. Although we are not of this world, we must live in it. We must continue to work and labor as part of this fallen human society. We must work and pray in the Spirit, and if we do this, we will be able to stand firm and endure to the end.
But please note that the apostle is not being triumphalistic here. St. Paul asks for the church’s prayers for boldness to declare the message, for which he is an ambassador in chains. To live in chains in a Roman prison was a horrible punishment. The weight of these heavy chains and the manner in which they were fastened on the prisoner caused great pain and often led to permanent damage of the limbs or the spine.
Dirty, malnourished, in great physical pain – this is the state in which the apostle Paul finished his days here on earth. But do you know how we can tell that he was not a hypocrite? How we can know that he took his own words to heart? Do you know how we can be sure that the breastplate of righteousness guarded the stirrings of his heart, that the helmet of salvation guarded his thoughts, that he was always ready to share the gospel of peace?
Even though he sat there suffering in pain, the apostle knew that those Roman soldiers outside of his cell, those soldiers who whipped him and put the chains on him – they were not his enemy! And whenever he had the chance, he spoke with them about the love of God for them in Jesus the Messiah. No root of bitterness ever grew up in his heart. No plan for revenge was ever sanctioned in his mind. No amount of pain could quench the fire of divine love that burned in his soul.
We would do well, my friends, if we too could guard ourselves in this same way, and prepare ourselves to struggle against those evil energies that draw us away from the love of God, and against those false voices that call us away from the words of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior. Let us stand firm together in the strength of the Lord. Amen.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Healing The Children BBQ Bash!
http://htcbbqbash.com/
OCTOBER 3, 2009, 12-5 PM
Everyone is invited! Healing the Children of Greater Philadelphia BBQ Bash is holding a fundraiser in Lumberton, NJ at Ferrell-wood (the Ferrell family land). Please visit the website and purchase your tickets.
If you like BBQ (the best you ever tasted!) and a little beer perhaps, and you like contributing to the healing of children with life-threatening conditions around the world, then PLEASE come and enjoy!
OCTOBER 3, 2009, 12-5 PM
Everyone is invited! Healing the Children of Greater Philadelphia BBQ Bash is holding a fundraiser in Lumberton, NJ at Ferrell-wood (the Ferrell family land). Please visit the website and purchase your tickets.
If you like BBQ (the best you ever tasted!) and a little beer perhaps, and you like contributing to the healing of children with life-threatening conditions around the world, then PLEASE come and enjoy!
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Understanding to Discern What is Right
Sermon for Proper 15 B (RCL), Offered by Nathan Ferrell at HS, Bellmawr & St. Luke’s, Westville
Texts: 1 Kings 2:10-12+3:3-14; Psalm 111; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58
There is an old Irish story about St. Moling, who was the head of the monastery at Glendalough in the Wicklow mountains of Ireland sometime after the passing of St. Kevin.
Once a young musician with a harp came to the monastery and asked if he could play music for the monks. All of them were in the refectory then eating their supper, all except for Moling. After playing his beautiful music, he joined them in their meal. And after the meal, he asked which one of them was the famous Moling, who was known throughout the land for his holiness. The brothers told him that Moling was praying in the church, for this was one of the three days each week when the abbot fasted. So the young man took his harp to the church in order to play for Moling. The monks shook their heads, however, and smiled to themselves, because they knew that Moling never allowed himself the pleasure of hearing music.
The young man entered the church and saw Moling kneeling in prayer, so he sat next to the altar and began to play his harp. Moling did not even life his head or open his eyes, but took out 2 balls of wax from his pocket and stuffed them into his ears. The young man smiled and continued to play, and amazingly, the wax in Moling’s ears began to melt. Even though the saint tried to push the wax back in, it was no use, as it melted down his neck.
At this point, the young musician brought out a small stone and began to scrape it back and forth across the harp strings. This produced horrible screeching and Moling found it unbearable. He winced and writhed in agony. In a minute, the young man discarded the stone and played again so sweetly on the harp, that the saintly abbot was soothed and filled with great joy at the beauty of the music.
When the music stopped, Moling asked the young man: “Are you a devil sent to tempt me, or an angel sent to bless me?”
“You must make your own judgment”, the young man replied. “When I scraped my harp with a stone, it made the noise of the devil. And when I played it with my fingers, it made the sound of an angel. Music, like food and drink, can be an agent of evil, or a source of goodness.” Then the young man took his harp and left.
And from that time forward, Moling welcomed all musicians to play at the monastery. And he gave up fasting, except on the mandatory fast days when everyone fasts. And his brothers at the monastery noticed that from then onward, he became more gentle and kind, and that he had even acquired a sense of humor (Celtic Fire, ed. Robert Van de Weyer, p.200-204).
It’s an odd, old story perhaps, but one that illustrates the challenge of gaining wisdom by one of the saints of God. For today, the Church calls us to consider living with wisdom as a crucial part of the new life we have in Christ.
Here in our reading today from the First Book of Kings, we read of the famous request of the young King Solomon for wisdom. In his dream, God spoke to Solomon, offering him whatever his heart desired. Solomon asked not for wealth, not for victory over his enemies, not for a long life. He asked for practical wisdom in making prudent decisions on behalf of the nation.
This request pleased the Lord. God says that Solomon will indeed receive understanding to discern what is right. It seems on the surface to be an incredibly unselfish action by the new king. Solomon is known generally as the acme of wisdom in the Bible. But we do well to remember the larger picture of Solomon’s life. In order to secure his throne, Solomon had to kill his opponents; even one of his half-brothers, Adonijah, he had assassinated.
The truth is that we are never able to remove entirely the selfish impulse from our efforts. Every human being is selfish; it is in our nature to pursue self-preservation. We seek to protect ourselves and those we love from harm.
Solomon desired to be known as a great and wise King, one who faithfully led his nation. This is a worthy goal, but it is not entirely self-less.
The same is true of St. Moling, the Irish saint we heard about earlier. Surely, he was proud of his rigorous devotion. His ego was stroked by his widespread fame as a holy man.
As it was for Solomon, and for the saints of God, it is impossible for any of us to remove entirely our selfish motives from even the most generous of acts.
And this is why we need God’s wisdom so desperately. We need understanding to discern what is right, to see clearly our motives for what they are, to truly know ourselves. God’s wisdom then strengthens us to minimize the harmful effects of our selfishness by opening our eyes to see reality at a deeper level.
Saint Paul’s admonition today is right on target: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.” And if you reflect on this, you see how this can cut two ways. Some hear Paul’s words as a call to austerity, a demand for increased seriousness.
But the story of St. Moling shows how God’s wisdom leads us to a more balanced life. The musician-messenger sent to Moling helped to open his eyes to his own selfish pride in rejecting the good gifts that God provides in creation.
All of this points us back to the Living Bread which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world. As St. Paul states elsewhere, Christ IS the wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1:24).
Now, this passage from St. John’s Gospel has long been a starting point for debate about the true nature of the eucharist. John’s Gospel speaks in such literal terms about the body and blood of Christ, that many in the first century and all of the centuries since have had difficulty in accepting them on face value. Many tomes have been written concerning these words to provide support for, or to deny, the idea of transubstantiation.
But that is not the point of John’s Gospel here. What Jesus offers is a radically different avenue to a relationship with God. To be with God is to be alive! To walk with Jesus through this life is to have access to the wisdom of God.
It is not enough simply to give mental assent to the idea of the real presence of Christ in the sacrament and to receive communion with faith. What good is it to do this and yet to not have the heart changed by the wisdom of God? Unfortunately, many of my fellow Roman priests have demonstrated this. How many of them have daily received Christ in his body and blood, and yet have then walked out and daily committed heinous crimes against innocent and defenseless children?
“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” (John 6:57).
Surely to have Christ abide in me means than simple ritual. It means that I am changed on the inside; that God’s wisdom has altered my outlook on the world; that my selfish impulses can be seen for what they are, and placed to the side in order to serve those around me.
To share my life with the life of Jesus Christ means that my heart is open so that he can live through me, weak and foolish and selfish though I may be.
It was the great Martin Luther who said: “God rides the lame horse and carves the rotten wood.” And that is good news for all of us. Amen.
Texts: 1 Kings 2:10-12+3:3-14; Psalm 111; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58
There is an old Irish story about St. Moling, who was the head of the monastery at Glendalough in the Wicklow mountains of Ireland sometime after the passing of St. Kevin.
Once a young musician with a harp came to the monastery and asked if he could play music for the monks. All of them were in the refectory then eating their supper, all except for Moling. After playing his beautiful music, he joined them in their meal. And after the meal, he asked which one of them was the famous Moling, who was known throughout the land for his holiness. The brothers told him that Moling was praying in the church, for this was one of the three days each week when the abbot fasted. So the young man took his harp to the church in order to play for Moling. The monks shook their heads, however, and smiled to themselves, because they knew that Moling never allowed himself the pleasure of hearing music.
The young man entered the church and saw Moling kneeling in prayer, so he sat next to the altar and began to play his harp. Moling did not even life his head or open his eyes, but took out 2 balls of wax from his pocket and stuffed them into his ears. The young man smiled and continued to play, and amazingly, the wax in Moling’s ears began to melt. Even though the saint tried to push the wax back in, it was no use, as it melted down his neck.
At this point, the young musician brought out a small stone and began to scrape it back and forth across the harp strings. This produced horrible screeching and Moling found it unbearable. He winced and writhed in agony. In a minute, the young man discarded the stone and played again so sweetly on the harp, that the saintly abbot was soothed and filled with great joy at the beauty of the music.
When the music stopped, Moling asked the young man: “Are you a devil sent to tempt me, or an angel sent to bless me?”
“You must make your own judgment”, the young man replied. “When I scraped my harp with a stone, it made the noise of the devil. And when I played it with my fingers, it made the sound of an angel. Music, like food and drink, can be an agent of evil, or a source of goodness.” Then the young man took his harp and left.
And from that time forward, Moling welcomed all musicians to play at the monastery. And he gave up fasting, except on the mandatory fast days when everyone fasts. And his brothers at the monastery noticed that from then onward, he became more gentle and kind, and that he had even acquired a sense of humor (Celtic Fire, ed. Robert Van de Weyer, p.200-204).
It’s an odd, old story perhaps, but one that illustrates the challenge of gaining wisdom by one of the saints of God. For today, the Church calls us to consider living with wisdom as a crucial part of the new life we have in Christ.
Here in our reading today from the First Book of Kings, we read of the famous request of the young King Solomon for wisdom. In his dream, God spoke to Solomon, offering him whatever his heart desired. Solomon asked not for wealth, not for victory over his enemies, not for a long life. He asked for practical wisdom in making prudent decisions on behalf of the nation.
This request pleased the Lord. God says that Solomon will indeed receive understanding to discern what is right. It seems on the surface to be an incredibly unselfish action by the new king. Solomon is known generally as the acme of wisdom in the Bible. But we do well to remember the larger picture of Solomon’s life. In order to secure his throne, Solomon had to kill his opponents; even one of his half-brothers, Adonijah, he had assassinated.
The truth is that we are never able to remove entirely the selfish impulse from our efforts. Every human being is selfish; it is in our nature to pursue self-preservation. We seek to protect ourselves and those we love from harm.
Solomon desired to be known as a great and wise King, one who faithfully led his nation. This is a worthy goal, but it is not entirely self-less.
The same is true of St. Moling, the Irish saint we heard about earlier. Surely, he was proud of his rigorous devotion. His ego was stroked by his widespread fame as a holy man.
As it was for Solomon, and for the saints of God, it is impossible for any of us to remove entirely our selfish motives from even the most generous of acts.
And this is why we need God’s wisdom so desperately. We need understanding to discern what is right, to see clearly our motives for what they are, to truly know ourselves. God’s wisdom then strengthens us to minimize the harmful effects of our selfishness by opening our eyes to see reality at a deeper level.
Saint Paul’s admonition today is right on target: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.” And if you reflect on this, you see how this can cut two ways. Some hear Paul’s words as a call to austerity, a demand for increased seriousness.
But the story of St. Moling shows how God’s wisdom leads us to a more balanced life. The musician-messenger sent to Moling helped to open his eyes to his own selfish pride in rejecting the good gifts that God provides in creation.
All of this points us back to the Living Bread which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world. As St. Paul states elsewhere, Christ IS the wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1:24).
Now, this passage from St. John’s Gospel has long been a starting point for debate about the true nature of the eucharist. John’s Gospel speaks in such literal terms about the body and blood of Christ, that many in the first century and all of the centuries since have had difficulty in accepting them on face value. Many tomes have been written concerning these words to provide support for, or to deny, the idea of transubstantiation.
But that is not the point of John’s Gospel here. What Jesus offers is a radically different avenue to a relationship with God. To be with God is to be alive! To walk with Jesus through this life is to have access to the wisdom of God.
It is not enough simply to give mental assent to the idea of the real presence of Christ in the sacrament and to receive communion with faith. What good is it to do this and yet to not have the heart changed by the wisdom of God? Unfortunately, many of my fellow Roman priests have demonstrated this. How many of them have daily received Christ in his body and blood, and yet have then walked out and daily committed heinous crimes against innocent and defenseless children?
“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” (John 6:57).
Surely to have Christ abide in me means than simple ritual. It means that I am changed on the inside; that God’s wisdom has altered my outlook on the world; that my selfish impulses can be seen for what they are, and placed to the side in order to serve those around me.
To share my life with the life of Jesus Christ means that my heart is open so that he can live through me, weak and foolish and selfish though I may be.
It was the great Martin Luther who said: “God rides the lame horse and carves the rotten wood.” And that is good news for all of us. Amen.
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