Homily for Easter Sunday

“By being killed, Christ killed what was killing everyone.”

Let us linger a while on these words from our holy father, Saint Peter Chrysologus. And as we linger, let us ponder these questions: What is killing everyone? Is it cancer or heart disease; is it wanton murder or senseless accidents; is it unhealthy eating or lifestyle choices; is it lack of food or lack of medicine? Those are not things that kill, but things that may cause or contribute to our death. So what is killing everyone? Is it not death? Is it not death that kills all men?

If that is true—and you know it is—then today we celebrate the death of death, and the resurrection of Life. We celebrate that death has been killed, and that Life Himself has risen triumphantly. We celebrate that in that combat stupendous between death and life, the Prince of Life, who died, overcame death and the grave, and killed death, and so reigns immortal.

Let us hear more fully, then, what our holy father among the saints declares:

“Christ accepted death so that death would die. Christ, by being killed, killed what was killing everyone. Christ entered the tomb in order to open up hell. So, having abolished the authority of death, having destroyed the prison of hell, and having annihilated the very power of death, Christ now should not be anointed as a dead man, but should be adored as Victor.”

And yet the women, in their pious devotion, bring ointment and spices to care for the body of one who has died. They keep vigil, they stay awake all night, they make costly and time-consuming preparations, and they perform the godly duties of mourning—yet not for death, but for Christ Jesus. And so they hasten to the grave in the early morning, not in faith in order to celebrate the death of death, but in sorrow in order to honor another one of death’s victims.

Yet the victim they intend to honor is no victim. And the shrine they intend to erect refuses to be enshrined. For a shrine honors the dead. But when the women entered into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed with a white robe: and they were astonished. He saith to them: Be not affrighted; you seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified: he is risen, he is not here, behold the place where they laid him.

And in beholding, did they believe? When they saw the empty tomb, did faith arise in their hearts? When they heard the joyous words from the young man, were those words too incredible and unbelievable?

Initially, Our Lord’s resurrection was hard to believe. And despite our annual celebration, Our Lord’s conquering of death is still hard to believe. For the stone was very great; the stone of fear, the stone of unbelief, the stone of death and the grave.

And that stone is still very great. For who could ever think that death had died—especially when we still see death taking its toll? And who would now believe that the victory still remains with Life—especially when we hear how sickness and disease, how murder and recklessness, still destroys so many lives. Has the reign of death truly ended?

When we believe that death still has the upper hand, that death still reigns, then in fear we run ourselves to death and toward death. And so we feed death with our life-destroying sins of pride and despair and lust and greed. We feed death, hoping to get the most out of life. We feed death, believing deep down that he will have the final say. We feed death, and so we gorge our passions and indulge our appetites and let anger and hopelessness and misery get the upper hand.

Notice, however, how the angels gently call us to faith; how they urge us to believe against what we feel, what we experience, what we see, what we hear. Notice how the angels plead with us to look beyond the evidence; how they exhort us to overrule our fears. But most of all, notice how those angels proclaim that we should no longer run from death, that we should no longer cower at the grave. Yet listen not first to what they say. Instead, observe what they have done.

The women wondered aloud, “Who shall roll us back the stone from the door of the sepulchre? For the stone was very great. Which stone? The stone of the tomb, or the stone of the heart? The stone that announced that death had claimed another? Yet now the stone announces that death has been defeated; that the grave had not swallowed a dead man, but death itself; and that the house of death had become a life-giving home. For looking, they saw the stone rolled back. By whom? By the angels.

Now when a stone is rolled forward, it declares that the grave is sealed, that death has done its worst. But this stone is rolled back. And so it announces that death has died, that Life lives, and that Life Himself can both call the dead out of the graves, and restore to us the hope of life, even as we live surrounded by death.

Yet the stone, and the angels, declare even more astounding things. They preach that the death we see, the death we fear, the death we feel deep down in our bones—this death is not only dead, but also converted; that death itself has become the highway for Life, and the road we get to trod so that may reach our heavenly home. “Blessed, then, is the stone which could both conceal Christ and reveal Him! Blessed is the stone which opens hearts no less than graves! Blessed is the stone which produces faith in the Resurrection, and a resurrection of faith!” (St Peter Chrysologus) And blessed is the stone which no longer entices us to give in, but now draws us to revel in the Lord’s death-defying mercy!

Christ indeed from death is risen. And in rising, He has both killed our enemy, and at the same time raised us in Baptism from death to life. Let us not, then, prefer defeated death, by returning to our old ways and indulging our sinful passions. So let no death, through sin, reign in your mortal body, so as to obey its passions. Neither yield your members as instruments of iniquity unto sin; but present yourselves to God, as those that are alive from the dead. For Christ Our Lord has overcome death. By being killed, Christ has killed what is killing you.

To this Lord Jesus Christ, who is the only-begotten Son of the Father, together with His all-holy and life-giving Spirit, belongs all glory, honor and worship, now and ever and unto the ages of ages.

The Hidden Jesus - A Homily

NB The following homily was preached last evening at Holy Trinity Orthodox Church (OCA) at the Vespers sponsored by the Council of Orthodox Christian Churches of Metropolitan Detroit.

After Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, the Jews began plotting in earnest to put Jesus to death. The high priest Caiaphas announced that “it is expedient for us that one man should die for the people, and not that the whole nation should perish.”

The holy evangelist St John tells us that when the Jewish leaders plotted to kill Him, “Jesus no longer walked openly among the Jews.” What does this mean? First, it means that he actually hid Himself; for John tells us that Jesus left Jerusalem and “went into the country near the wilderness, to a city called Ephraim, and there remained with His disciples” until he entered triumphantly on Palm Sunday.

Yet there is also a spiritual meaning. That “Jesus no longer walked openly among the Jews” means that He also hid deeply His divinity. No more feeding of multitudes, no more healing the sick, no more resurrections—in fact, no more miracles did He do, except healing the ear of Malchus on the night of His betrayal. It is not that He could not do miracles. Rather, Jesus hid His divinity—hid His power, His glory, His majesty—until it would be revealed in a most profound way, until His coronation on the cross. Then He would be crowned with thorns; then He would ascend His throne; for then He would be glorified by the Father.

As you may know, I serve a parish that follows not the Greek or Russian tradition, but the Western tradition. In the Western tradition, today begins that part of Lent that we call “Passiontide.” Last evening, as Passiontide began, we hid all our crosses and icons and other images with opaque violet veils. For us, the fast of the mouth now also becomes a fast of the eyes.

Like all liturgical traditions, Eastern and Western, the veiling of the crosses is not done for no reason. It is directly linked to the final weeks of Our Lord’s life, and particularly to this time when Our Blessed Lord no longer walks openly, when He hides His divinity.

This simple custom urges us to look beyond what Our Lord looks like on the cross, to look beyond His gentleness and vulnerability, and even to look beyond our notions of strength and power. For the Jesus we see in these last few weeks will not conform to our standard of maniless and strength.

These days, we are impressed with a show of force. We are impressed when men and women stand up for their rights; when they vigorously defend themselves against false accusations; when they defiantly argue that they have been maligned. And we are impressed with hitting someone strong and hard; with striking back with overwhelming power.

Yet that is not the picture we will see with our Jesus. That is not how He will resist the devil, or overcome the chief priests, or defeat all powers of darkness. His power will be veiled in defenselessness. His strength will be hidden in weakness. He will not defend Himself, or speak up for Himself. Instead, He will let them do what they wish to Him.

Yet it will be on His terms; in the way the prophets have predicted; at the hour He chooses. And that is true power. Our holy father among the saints Peter Chrysologus says it with these words:

“Jesus willed to suffer since of His own accord He went up to the place where He would suffer. Death has sway over the unwilling, but is the servant of those who are willing. Therefore, since He is willing to die, it is not a mishap but an act of power. He Himself says, ‘I have power to lay down my life, and I have power to take it up. No one take [my life] from Me.’ Where there is the power to lay down life and to take it up again, dying in this case is not something inevitable, but something that is willed.

“So death was not able to take His life away, nor was the underworld able to hold onto Him, since it trembled at His bidding, and lost even those souls it was holding in captivity. For St Matthew says [that when Jesus died], ‘The tombs were split open and many of the bodies of the saints rose up.’”

Now that is true power—the power to raise the dead even as He dies; the power to command heaven and earth to do His bidding as He passes away; and the power to kill death by being swallowed up by death.

Jesus tells us that when this happens—when He is lifted up on the cross, when His true power and glory are revealed—then He will draw all men to Himself.

Be impressed, then, with the Lord Jesus who does not walk openly. Be impressed with the One who wills to be weak and to suffer for your salvation. And, most of all, be impressed with Him who will hide His divinity so deeply during the last days of His life that He will trick the devil into believing that death has defeated life—when, in fact, Life Himself, by dying, will destroy death.

Let this power—this power that is looks so weak—let it draw you close to Him. For this is the power of the martyrs. By urging the lions to crush his bones like wheat, St Ignatius overpowered his captors. It is also this power that the non-martyred saints tapped into. For by putting to death her desires, by weakening her body with fasting, St Mary of Egypt became strong and power—not only in her day, but also now as our advocate and intercessor before God the Father.

By the prayers St Mary of Egypt and of the saints, may we be attracted, then, not by a show of force, not by those who stand up for themselves, but by Him who willingly, humbly and gladly takes up His cross, and suffers our weakness to death, so that He might overcome. Let the Jesus who is hidden in these next few weeks draw us closer to Him so that when His glory is fully revealed on Pascha, we may rejoice with exceeding joy!

To this Lord Jesus, whose strength is in weakness, be all glory, honor and worship, now and ever and unto the ages of ages.

Metropolitan Jonah's visit to a Lutheran congregation

As a former Lutheran minister in The Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod, I find intriguing and heartening the visit of His Beatitude Metropolitan Jonah to Grace Lutheran Church (LCMS) in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

This event raises many thoughts and questions in my mind; but for now, I simply wish to share this video contain His Beatitude's address to the Lutheran congregation.

An Advent Homily

Those who earnestly sought the salvation of God earnestly sought St John the Baptist. They came quite a distance into a desolate wilderness, seeking an eccentric who was not easy to find, whose words sounded brusque, and whose manner seemed as rough as his clothes. They came with heavy hearts, filled with trepidation, knowing the sins they had tried so hard to hide from others that they nearly succeeded at hiding them from themselves. Yet they came to confess. And in that way, they came to smooth their rough places, and to straighten their crooked ways. So greater than their trepidation was their faith; and greater than their dread at what they knew they must admit aloud was their hope of pardon from God's mercy.

What gave these people the hope, the faith, the energy to seek our St John? No doubt, it was the words of the holy prophet Isaiah; most especially these words:

The land that was desolate and impassable shall be glad, and the wilderness shall rejoice, and shall flourish like the lily. It shall bud forth and blossom, and shall rejoice with joy and praise: ... [T]hey shall see the glory of the Lord, and the beauty of our God. Strengthen ye the feeble hands, and confirm the weak knees. Say to the fainthearted: Take courage, and fear not: behold your God will bring the revenge of recompense: God himself will come and will save you. (Is 35.1-4)

"God Himself will come and save you." Those are the words that drove these people into the wilderness seeking John. For those words promised what they yearned for -- salvation from God's own man. Not a salvation that would magically wipe away all suffering and make life easy; but the salvation that would help them to see beyond today's turmoils and heartaches; the salvation that would help them see and believe that there is more to life than the petty games and machinations, the fading experiences and unquenchable lusts, the flavorless events and the weary monotony of unending routine.

So these folks -- people like you and me, people seeking what you and I also seek, people longing for comfort and assuagement -- these folks clambered forward into the wilderness pursuing John, striving for the relief God's salvation brings. And when they arrived, they encountered not a reed shaken by the wind, nor a preacher dressed in fine apparel. They encountered a prophet--and more than a prophet. For they encountered a voice -- the voice of the One; the voice in the wilderness who spoke deeply into their being. He is the voice foreseen by Isaiah. And this voice said:

Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight his paths. Every valley shall be filled; and every mountain and hill shall be brought low; and the crooked shall be made straight; and the rough ways plain; And all flesh shall see the salvation of God. (Lk 3.4-6)

Yet what the voice declared was not merely more words. He declaimed and proclaimed the Word of God Himself. The same Word through whom all things were made. The same Word which had spoken through the mouth of the prophets. The same Word who took flesh from the womb of the pure, glorious, holy and blessed virgin Mary. This Word who is not about peace, but truly is the peace and mercy and consolation of God in His very being -- this is the Word that the voice voiced, and that the people strain to hear.

This Word is what John says He is. And so He is the lasting and unfading comfort these people -- all people, you people -- long to hear. The voice says, "Comfort, comfort ye My people; cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD's hand double [mercy] for all her sins." (Is 40.1-2)

This comfort that St John declares is the Word of life to be heard, seen, looked upon, handled and tasted. The dew of the Holy Spirit has dropped down this Word from the heavens so that, in our hearts, His undying succor may bud and flower and grow within us as He first did within the Blessed Virgin's womb. And then Emmanuel comes, and we shall rejoice. For He shall graciously and mercifully relieve all those sins and hardships, all those self-made stresses, all those unkept promises and feeble excuses that have haunted our souls and weighed down our bodies, and so hindered us from basking in the glow of His exhilarating warmth.

By the prayers of St John, of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, may we, in heart and mind, join this timid yet hope-filled throng by spending these last few days straining with all we are to heed the voice of the One who announces the advent of this consoling Word, our Lord Jesus Christ; to whom with the Father in the unity of the Holy Spirit, belongs all glory, honor and worship, now and ever and throughout all ages of ages.


Preached Advent IV 2010
Based on Luke 3.1-6 (the Gospel at the Rorate Mass)

Vox Secreta - Revisiting the Silent Canon

The changes of Vatican II included replacing the centuries old practice of saying the Canon Missae or Prex Eucharistica silently or in a quiet whisper (vox secreta). The arguments favoring this change to an audible declaimed canon (i.e., not vox mediocris but vox clara) were several relying on historical data as well as pastoral, personal or (in some cases) protestant inclinations.

This debate, largely dismissively disregarded in protestant communions, has continued amongst Western Rite Orthodox priests due, no doubt, to their greater or lesser regard for later 20th century liturgical scholarship. (It would not surprise if this debate resumes in Roman Catholic circles, particularly between those who strongly prefer and those who vehemently oppose the anachronistically and ironically named "Extraordinary Form.")

In considering the various premises of this debate, both historically and pastorally, chiefly so I could continue to defend the traditional rubric, I recently came across the following from Louis Boyer's Eucharist (1968):

We must admit that this question [what Bouyer terms "the silence of the canon" or "the silence of the mysteries"] is the most obscure mystery of perhaps the whole of the history of the liturgy. Yet we hardly get this impression when we read most of the studies on the subject that have been piled up since the seventeenth century. Whatever position the authors take--whether they believe the practice to be original and essential, or condemn it as late and unfortunate--one would think, in reading them, that the matter is clear and can be plainly settled by a few irreproachable texts. But when we go to the sources without any preconceived ideas, it is hard to share this optimism. Yet we do not deny that we can reach certain firm conclusions from examining them. But...they are neither so easily accessible, nor of a nature as to dispel all the obscurities of one of the most complex problems of the history of the liturgy. (366f)

Advantages of Celebrating Ad Orientem

Often I am asked about why I face the "wrong way" (ad orientem) when I celebrate Mass. These questions come mostly from visitors and the Catholic students I teach; however, sometimes parishioners also ask out of curiosity or because they have been asked by others. Since I've never (even as a Lutheran) celebrated Mass versus populum, I can't fathom celebrating Mass any other way.

When asked, I give a variety of answers--some better than others. Recently I came across an apologia for facing the Lord (tabernacle) when celebrating Mass written by Dom Mark Kirby, a monastic priest in the Catholic Church in Tulsa OK. Reading through them, I agree with all of the advantages that Fr Mark lists. Perhaps others can add to the list.

What are the advantages of standing at the altar ad orientem, as I have experienced them over the past two years? I can think of ten straight off:

1. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is experienced as having a theocentric direction and focus.

2. The faithful are spared the tiresome clerocentrism that has so overtaken the celebration of Holy Mass in the past forty years.

3. It has once again become evident that the Canon of the Mass (Prex Eucharistica) is addressed to the Father, by the priest, in the name of all.

4. The sacrificial character of the Mass is wonderfully expressed and affirmed.

5. Almost imperceptibly one discovers the rightness of praying silently at certain moments, of reciting certain parts of the Mass softly, and of cantillating others.

6. It affords the priest celebrant the boon of a holy modesty.

7. I find myself more and more identified with Christ, Eternal High Priest and Hostia perpetua, in the liturgy of the heavenly sanctuary, beyond the veil, before the Face of the Father.

8. During the Canon of the Mass I am graced with a profound recollection.

9. The people have become more reverent in their demeanour.

10. The entire celebration of Holy Mass has gained in reverence, attention, and devotion.

Polish Orthodox Archbishop killed in plane crash

It is not widely reported that the plane which crashed in Russia carrying the President and other leaders of the Polish government also had a religious delegation. Among those killed was Archbishop Miron, Bishop of Hajnówka of the Polish Orthodox Church.

May his memory be eternal!



HT: Grace and Peace

The Pomp of the Devil

Most regrettably, modern translations of the ancient Western baptismal liturgy have danced around or re-translated or ignored the key word in the third renunciation. After asking the candidate if he renounces Satan (abrenuntias Satanae) and all his works (et omnibus operibus eius), the candidate is then asked if he likewise renounces all of Satan's pomp (et omnibus pompis eius).

It is that little word pomp (pompis) over which many stumble or fumble, no doubt because it is an uncommon English word. Some would, I'm assure, assign it to the trash heap of "archaic," even while insisting that "Pomp and Circumstance" remain in the graduation tradition. (As an aside, isn't it curious that what no longer is acceptable in liturgy because it is out of date and doesn't speak to us, is perfectly acceptable in other contexts?) Others would argue, a little more persuasively to my mind, that "pomp" does not translate, but transliterates, pompis. Or does it? Perhaps such a "cold" Latinate word is "warmer" and communicates better than an Anglo-based equivalent (if there truly is such a thing). But I digress.

As you can tell, I am all for keeping the older translations while, at the same time, insisting that helpful explanations be provided. That is, after all, the role of catechesis--not to instruct by means of a translation, but to teach what a translated word means.

As an aid toward such in regard to the little word "pomp," I offer the following which is unhesitatingly copied from Pope Benedict XVI's Easter Vigil Homily 2010. I hope you find it as helpful as I do.

The strange word “pomp”, that is to say the devil’s glamour, referred to the splendour of the ancient cult of the gods and of the ancient theatre, in which it was considered entertaining to watch people being torn limb from limb by wild beasts. What was being renounced by this “no” was a type of culture that ensnared man in the adoration of power, in the world of greed, in lies, in cruelty. It was an act of liberation from the imposition of a form of life that was presented as pleasure and yet hastened the destruction of all that was best in man. This renunciation – albeit in less dramatic form – remains an essential part of baptism today. We remove the “old garments”, which we cannot wear in God’s presence. Or better put: we begin to remove them. This renunciation is actually a promise in which we hold out our hand to Christ, so that he may guide us and reclothe us. What these “garments” are that we take off, what the promise is that we make, becomes clear when we see in the fifth chapter of the Letter to the Galatians what Paul calls “works of the flesh” – a term that refers precisely to the old garments that we remove. Paul designates them thus: “fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, anger, selfishness, dissension, party spirit, envy, drunkenness, carousing and the like” (Gal 5:19ff.). These are the garments that we remove: the garments of death.

Favorite Quote of the Year

"St Augustine was a saint in the Orthodox Church until the 1960s."

Now, I'm aware that this statement was most likely not first uttered in 2009; however, that's when I first heard it. I'm equally aware that it may not be original with the person from whom I heard it; hence, no attribution.

Given those caveats, the truth contained within it captivates my imagination.

What a Joy!

Yesterday (Saturday), I had the joy of administering the Sacrament of Holy Chrismation to four of my spiritual children. It is always a joy to welcome into the fullness of the Church those who have struggled and sacrificed to buy the field and acquire the pearl of great price. As Fr Anthony said, their faith confirms, encourages and strengthens the faith of all.

After the Chrismation, I also had the joy of serving the Divine Liturgy with two brother priests: Fr Anthony Michaels and Fr Gregory Hogg. It is always good to live Psalm 132. For that is how, I think, that Psalm must be read; namely, that brothers dwell together in unity most clearly when they stand in God's presence offering Him thanks by participating in the Holy Sacrifice.

Yet a third joy was meeting two dear women who have encouraged me more than they can imagine. I have known these two for several years, but only "pixelly." Yet now I can put an endearing and enduring smile to Anastasia and Rose.

As an added bonus, I was blessed to see the new temple (still in progress) for St John Chrysostom parish in Fort Wayne. I remember well the old temple, and am pleased that the parish will have a gorgeous place for gathering both to pray and to fellowship. I hope to be able to attend once again when the temple is finished and consecrated.