The Courage to Confess

The following is an except of a sermon preached at the pan Orthodox Vespers hosted by St Thomas Albanian Orthodox Church in Farmington Hills MI.


What keeps us from going to confession? What causes us to put off going to our spiritual father? Is it the belief that we have nothing to confess? Or is it rather our fear that Our Lord God does not understand, that He can’t identify, that He doesn’t really know what it’s like? In other words, we’ll confess—but to someone who really doesn’t know us, and what we face, and how hard it is. Now if we could just find someone like that—someone who truly understands, and has been there, and can sympathize with us.

Yet that is precisely who St Mary of Egypt found—a sympathetic ear; and more than a sympathetic ear. She found the Lord and God who had been there and back; who knew her sin not intellectually but also experientially. And St Mary found the Son of Man who had endured her temptations, and so was able to help her—all all men—who are tempted. And when she found Him, she received courage—the courage to confess.

Now isn’t that what confession is? Isn’t confession the courage to name our sins aloud, and also the courage to live against our ungodly desires? For it certainly takes courage to confess. And it certainly takes courage to live for others and against we selfishly pleases us. Yet where does such courage come from? Certainly not from the commandments. The commandments are good, but ultimately they show us that we’ve missed the mark; that we don’t measure up. And they show us how we should live. The commandments encourage us to do what is right, but they don’t give us courage.

Where then do we get the courage to confess? It comes from Our Lord Himself, who gives us His Spirit so that we might begin to know and believe that He will not turn us away—because He’s suffered our temptations.

Remember St Gregory’s words: “What Christ did not take into Himself He did not heal, but what is united with God is also being saved.”

These words mean that Our Lord has truly and really assumed and taken into Himself—into His life-giving flesh and blood—our temptations: our desire to control, our desire to satisfy our urges, our desire to accumulate, our desire to lash out, our desire to want what others have, our desire to feed our appetites, and our desire to lose heart and give up and give in to our fears.

All of these deadly sins, all of these ungodly passions and desires, Our Lord has both assumed and consumed. He has made them His own and swallowed them up in His person. He doesn’t just know about them. He took them in and suffered their sting, and then put them to death in His flesh. And He has done this for only one reason: so that He might transform and convert these ungodly passions, so that He might change them into godly desires—the godly desires which transform us.

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This is not the world we ought to desire

Advent Sunday was commemorated today at Holy Incarnation Orthodox Church. Below is a portion of the sermon. The full sermon can be accessed at the Holy Incarnation blog.

Our Blessed Lord Jesus has often instructed us in the true delights of the heart. He has told us how great His love is for us, how He has mercy on us, how intimately He unites us to Himself by His Spirit, how He has stored up riches for us, and how earnestly He longs us for us join His saints and angels in His heavenly kingdom. And when we hear these things, how our hearts burn within us! And how our desire fades for this world and this world’s good!

Yet now, with that same deep compassion and undying love, Our Lord today warns us that we may lose these riches and His kingdom. For while Our Lord God will never quit His love for us, and will never leave us nor forsake us, He knows that we can become so enwrapped in the cares and occupations of our life, in our pursuit for fleeting honors, and in satisfying our present appetite, that we lose our focus and so may miss out on the things that truly make for our peace. Our Lord knows that we can become so preoccupied with ourselves and our own anxieties that we forget all that He has given us and promised to us; and live unmindful that this is not the world we ought to desire.

What Is This Race Which We Run?

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Septuagesima Sunday.


St. Paul plainly tells us that we are running a race. And he urges us not simply to run, but to run that you may obtain the prize. The holy Apostle sets the goal before us. We are running to win. The prize has been set before us; it is in clear view. Now we must attain that which has been promised. Now we may lay hold on the treasure that has been stored up for us. And with this goal in mind, we run not with uncertainty, not as someone just pounding the pavement and going through the motions. Rather, we should run so that, in the end, we stand with those who have fought a good fight, finished the course, and kept the faith.

But what is this race which we run? What is the course? And what is the point?

Fear propels most runners. They run to stay healthy, to prolong life, to avoid death. Pride propels a few. They run for the glory, for the accolades and fame. Still fewer run for the sheer joy of running. They run because they enjoy the atmosphere, and get caught up in the act. For all three—the afraid, the proud, and the lovers—for all three, the race is this world. They run the human race. That is to say, they run only with this life in mind: to get the most they can from the time they have, and to experience all that the world offers. They afraid fear missing out. The proud want to be remembered in the record books. And the lovers of this world get caught up in the act of living, in taking it all in, in living life to its fullest.

But that is not our race. For this world does not offer the prize that we seek. This world offers only disappointment and death. Its promises fade or are broken. And getting caught up in this world’s living means getting caught up in its march to death. For in the end, this world’s prize may be monuments for a few and satisfaction for some, but the grave for all.

Yet we run not because of fear or pride or love of this world.We run to obtain the prize. Which means that we run so that we might lay hold on eternal life, unto which we have been called.

The Spirit has sealed us as His own in Holy Chrismation so that we run our race not in vainly, not beating the air worthlessly, but so that we may obtain an incorruptible prize, undefiled and that does not fade away, reserved in heaven for you. And His goal for us is not that we live life to the fullest, but so that we live life in His fullness.


Read the full sermon here.

Love Freely Given, Freely Received

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the Third Mass at the Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord.



Let us believe and understand and know that Christ’s birth was not a necessity. Nothing obligated the Father to send His only-begotten Son into our flesh; nothing required the Son to do His Father’s bidding or to knit His divine nature to our human nature; and nothing compelled the Spirit to announce to the Blessed Virgin Mary that she would be the Mother of our God.

In the same way, no one requires any man to receive the Word and Grace of God when He came down from heaven. So no one and nothing forced the holy Virgin say, “Be it unto me according to thy word.” And no one makes those for whom Christ comes, and those to whom He came, welcome or embrace Him; or even believe in Him.

All of this then—God’s action and our reaction; the Spirit’s bestowal of the Son, and man’s reception of Him in faith; and the Son’s desire to be our Savior, and our desire to know Him as such—all of this is done in true freedom. None of it is forced or obligatory; all of it is unconstrained. Freely given and freely received; freely bestowed and freely embraced.

This is the way of love. For love never forces itself upon another, nor obligates another to accept what love gives. And love gives hopeful that the gift will be received and appreciated, but with no thought or expectation of getting something in return. So who, then, came into our world? Whose birth do we celebrate? Is it not the birth of Love incarnate, and the appearance of Him who not only loves but is Love Himself? St. Paul certainly thought so. For the holy Apostle said that the kindness and love of God our Saviour toward man appeared. And how did He appear? As love does: Not by works of righteousness which we have done, nor by obligating us to welcome Him, but according to his mercy he saved us.

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The Angelic Hymn

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the First Mass at for the Feast of the Nativity of Our Lord.


It is fitting that when Our Lord and Savior came to earth; when He determined to knit His divine nature unconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably to our human nature; when He did not abhor the virgin’s womb, but deigned for us men and for our salvation to be born in our flesh—it is fitting that the angels gathered together and shouted for joy. For the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ declared that the union of God and man has been accomplished, that the divide between heaven and earth had been bridged, and that the reign of death in sin was ended. And so what recourse did the angels have, and how else should they have responded except to sing glorious praise to the Father who, by His Spirit, had gifted all men and the whole world with His incarnate Son?

So in splendid song, with glorious chant, and in magnificent hymn the angels praised God. But notice that their praise was not directed to God; rather, it was directed to men. The angels declared the greatness of God not by fawning over Him, but by proclaiming the wonders of His love to those He was determined to save. And they rejoiced and exalted His mercy not by remaining in heaven, but by seeking out men to whom they could sing their glad tidings.

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The Voice Cries Out

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the Fourth Sunday of Advent.



You would think that we should today hear something about the great Feast which we shall celebrate in two days. You would think that we should hear about the announcement by the archangel Gabriel or the Blessed Virgin Mary. And if we had been able, we would have heard of these things since they were the focus of Masses last Wednesday and Friday. And our Byzantine brothers and sisters are today hearing about the visit of St Gabriel to St Joseph, and the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy that a virgin shall be with child, and bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel.

We, however, get to hear another prophecy from Isaiah. We hear not about a virgin, but about a voice; not about a barren virgin with child, but about a voice crying out in the barren wilderness. And we hear not the news about the birth of Emmanuel, but rather the exhortation to prepare the way of the Lord by repentance; which means by fasting from sin and by restraining and suppressing the desires of the flesh.

As we hear such a stern exhortation, as we hear the voice seemingly dampen our mood, we must remember why the voice cries out, why the prophet prophesies, why the Forerunner urges us to set our hearts and minds straight. The voice cries out not to scold but to refocus our soul, to reset our heart’s desire—all so that we might take comfort. For what does the prophet Isaiah say?

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the LORD’s hand double [forgiveness] for all her sins.

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Is it Really Worth It?

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the Second Sunday of Advent.



You might take comfort in thinking that St John the Baptizer had his doubts; that when he was in prison, his strength of spirit and strength of faith began to waver. You might think that this makes St John “more human”—which means that you can identify with him because he’s more like you: susceptible to doubts, prone to weakness, able to stumble. You might think that if we see St John faltering, then he is more real, common, everyday—and not on some pedestal. And, in some perverse way, that makes us feel better—not better about St John, but better about ourselves; that it’s okay that we stumble and falter and waver and doubt.

For how often do we falter and waver and doubt? How often do we wonder about what good our religion does us; about whether the fuss of fasting and the sacrifice of self-denial is really worth while and necessary—especially when all our coworkers are partying. And how often do we wonder about whether it’s practical, realistic or necessary to wrestle with the kids so long and so often in church—especially when all that wrestling seems a waste of time because we feel like we get so little from going to church. And how often do we wonder about the good of praying at a set time, or even taking the time to pray—especially when not praying doesn’t seem to hurt us, and we’re not so sure God truly cares, or hears, or helps? We are prone to believe that we’re usually just going through the motions, and that these motions are taking us nowhere and getting us nothing.

And so we hear the story of St John the Baptizer, we hear the question he asks Jesus, and we hear it as the strong becoming weak, the mighty hero faltering, the prophet losing faith—and we feel better. Not necessarily because his question is our question. But because we often find comfort in other people’s misery. Because we revel in Schadenfreude. Because St John comes down to our level, and then in some queer way we can sympathize with what he seems to be going through; we can relate. And as we’re relating, we hear St John say aloud what we often think—“Is this all worth it? Is it worth the time and effort? Is it worth the sacrifice and expense? Do we really get ahead by playing by all these church rules, by explaining our eating habits, by risking ridicule or hard questions, by disciplining our routine and words, by bundling everyone one up and trudging off to church once again?”

The answer, of course, is yes. Yes, it’s worth every sacrifice—every penny, every minute, every hassle, every strange look, every delayed or denied gratification. It’s all worth it—but not because hanging tough, doing the time, and making the sacrifice finally gets us the reward we’re after. For that’s looking at it backwards. Just like thinking St John is today “more human” is looking at things backwards. For in both of those instances—in following the rules hoping for a payoff, and in dragging St John down to our level—in both of those instances, we’re still focusing on ourselves: our fears, our feelings, our perspective, our doubts, our questions, and how much we feel we have to do to finally make it all worthwhile.

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Living Not Tied to This World

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the First Sunday of Advent.


Let us consider, then, what Our Lord is truly saying. He is not telling us to do nothing as the world implodes. In fact, Our Lord in many places urges us to help others see what we see, and believe what we believe, and live as we live. And how should we live? Not as men and women tied to the pursuits of this world; not as men and women who find the greatest happiness in the busy-ness of parties and shopping and decorating; and not as men and women whose lives are governed by gratifying our desires and satisfying whatever whims or fads we are told we must have. Rather, we are to live with the knowledge, and with the earnest belief, that this world and this world’s goods offer us nothing, do nothing for us, and bring us no true joy or happiness. We are to live as men and women who can easily walk away from everything, because in Christ we already have all things. And we are to live as men and women who understand that this world—and all its charms and all its false promises and all its excitements—this world is destined to pass away. And so we are not to live as men who try to have it all before it’s all gone, but as men who know that all we pursue is nothing, and what is to come is everything.

So Truth Himself is reminding us of the truth—the truth that the world is not your friend, and so it should not be your heart’s desire. Your heart’s desire is in what lies beyond this world, in the world to come. That is the feast you should yearn for. That is the present you should eagerly await. That is the life you should sacrifice all to attain. And for that life you should eagerly decorate your person, your children, your home and all that you have with every good work, every kindness, every icon and every symbol so that you may never forget, but always strive for, that kingdom.

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Mustard Seed & Leaven

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the Twenty-fifh Sunday after Pentecost.


We tend to believe that all that matters in life, all that makes our life worthwhile, all that brings meaning and joy to our lives are the things we experience, the things we reach for, and the things we attain for in this world. And so that is too often where our focus is—on whatever excites, titillates or amuses our senses. Yet our senses simply take in the sights, sounds, aroma, texture and flavor of this decaying world. Our soul, however, urges us to reach beyond activity for activity’s sake; beyond trying to have it all, experience it all, and take it all in. Our soul urges us to reach beyond decaying and corrupting instances and occurrences, beyond whatever this world offers, beyond all these things that turn to powder in our hands. The soul urges us to strain for the sights, sounds, aroma, flavor and texture of the kingdom of heaven—that “world” where reckless activity is exceeded by resting forever in the loving embrace of Our Lord God.

But to strain and strive for this kingdom is not easy. Not only because there is much that distracts or gets in our way, but also because this kingdom which we seek is rarely perceptible to our senses. For what does Our Lord say? Not that the kingdom of heaven is like mustard seed, but that it is like a mustard seed which has already been planted in a field. And He does not say that the kingdom of heaven is like yeast, but rather that it is like yeast that has already been kneaded into dough, and so has begun leavening.

Yet what does this mean? Among other things, it means that the kingdom of heaven is not readily apparent to our senses. And it means that the kingdom of heaven is hidden deeply within the things we know. It also means that the kingdom of heaven gives meaning to what we think matters; that it should be our true focus; and that the kingdom of heaven is what matters most. For what good is dough without yeast? Will not leaven-less dough produce flat, bland bread? And what good is a field without seeds? Does not a field achieve its true purpose and final end only when seed is planted, decays, takes root, and grows?

The first lesson we learn, then, is that we too often focus on the field, not seeing the life that is hidden in the seeds that have been planted. And too often we focus on the dough, not remembering that leaven gives life to the dough, and makes the dough into flavorful bread.

Pondering God's Mercy

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached today at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Using the propers for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for the Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost.


The book of Job invites us to ponder this age-old question: Why do bad things happen to good people? Yet as we enter into the conversation with Job, as we listen to the deliberations between righteous Job and his unrighteous friends, as we hear our own voices in Job’s searching and also in the searing arguments of his so-called friends, we might begin to understand that the real question is not why bad things happen to good people, but rather why the Lord gives good to anyone. For when the words of Job are ended, when he is exhausted and is out of words, when the Lord finally gets his say, then we hear the rat-a-tat-tat of rhetorical questions—questions all designed to ask one thing: Why am I, the Lord and Maker of all things, why am I good? And merciful? And kind?

Job has no answer. And neither do we. But notice the question. It is not the self-centered question we ask: the question about why God lets us or makes us suffer; or why the all-knowing God doesn’t stop the suffering. That is the lesser question because it begins with us, and it is the product of our pride. With it, we presume to question God. And by questioning God we implicitly blame Him. And by questioning God, we go nowhere.

But the question God asks; the question that spring not from us but from Him—this question does not lead us nowhere, but leads us to consider all that we have and all that we are. God’s question—Why am I merciful?—that question leads us not to wallow in our misery, but to reflect upon the Lord, and the manifold ways in which He deigns to have mercy, and—most importantly—why He has mercy at all. For with the patriarch Jacob we must say, “I am not worthy of the least of all thy mercies, and of thy truth which thou hast showed to thy servant.” (Gen 32.10) And yet, even as we repeat these words, even as we hear ourselves say, “Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest enter under my roof,”—with those words we must admit that the Lord inexplicably has mercy on us; that He graciously gives us what we do not deserve; that He kindly overlooks our sins and does not deal with us as we deal with each other; and that He not only has mercy, but even also is mercy.

And then, with the patriarch Job, we have nothing left to say except: I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes; for I know that You can do every thing, and that no thought can be withheld from You. And with St. Paul, we can only acclaim the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God.

As we acclaim the Lord’s wisdom; as we proclaim that all wisdom is from the Lord God (Sir 1.1); as we confess that the Lord’s foolishness exceeds our wisest wisdom—then, perhaps, we will begin to understand the point Our Lord is making in today’s parable.

Remember Your Sins in order to Forgive

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XXI.



Let us not take advantage of Our Lord’s mercy and forgiveness. Let us not treat it as some cheap gift. Let us not disrespect the Lord’s sacrifice. For the Father sacrificed His Son, and the Son willingly became our sin and endured our suffering and entered our death—all so that we might be reconciled to God the Father. Let us not take for granted Our Lord’s mercy by returning to our sin—by letting pride or our passions continue to control us. Above all, let us not make light of Our Lord’s forgiveness by refusing to forgive all men. For when we refuse to forgive, we show that our pride is greater than our faith; and we show that we have forgotten both our repentant fear, and the Lord’s abundant mercy.

That is precisely what happened with the servant after he had been forgiven. He forgot both the enormity of his debt, and the magnitude of the master’s kindness. He forgot his fear, and the master’s compassion. And so his pride not only returned, but also metastasized into greed and selfishness. His fellow servant spoke the words that he had first spoken—words that should have reminded him of the forgiveness that he had received from the master. “Have patience with me, and I will pay thee all”—that is both what he had said and what he now heard. Yet in his pride, in his desire for fairness and justice, he forgot mercy—the mercy he had received. So he threatened and throttled his fellow servant.

Because he refuses to forgive, Our Lord judges the man to be ungrateful. Because the unforgiving servant did not forgive as he had been forgiven; and was not merciful as His Father is merciful. For with the same measure that you shall mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.

For this reason, each of us should be mindful of his sins. Had this man remembered the debt that had been forgiven, he would not have been so cruel and inhuman. Therefore, we should keep before our mind’s eye our own past deeds, as well as the Lord’s forgiveness. Yet let us not remember them so that we doubt the Lord’s mercy. Instead, let us remember our sins so that we do not fall into sin again; and so that we deal kindly with those who struggle with sin. “For there is nothing that makes the soul truly wise, so truly gentle and compassionate, as the continual remembrance of our sins.” (St John Chrysostom)

In the same way, there is no greater deed than imitating the mercy of God by forgiving those who sin against us. So let us remember both the Lord’s mercy and our own sins so that we practice humility and deal kindly with all men, even our enemies. And in forgiving others, we will grow in our remembrance and knowledge of Our Father’s ineffable compassion toward us which the Spirit has so generously showered upon us through the blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with His Father in the unity of the same Holy Spirit, belongs all glory, honor and worship, now and ever and unto the ages of ages.

Speaking & Hearing - From the Lord's Mercy

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XX.

That Our Lord deigns to speak, and that we are able to respond in faith—both trace back to the Lord’s mercy. For what is Our Lord’s speech but His Word? And this Word of the Lord—is that not the Son of the Father, who is so united to His Father that He is the Word of God? St John plainly says that the Word was with God, and the Word was God; and that this Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we saw his glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. What Our Lord speaks, then, is not just any noise, but His unbegotten Word. And that He determines to speak His Word means that He is determined to send forth His Word into the ears and hearts of men.

Now, the Word of God goes forth, not by compulsion, not by necessity. For there is nothing that compels the Father to speak; there is nothing that forces the Word of God to go forth; and there is nothing that requires the Word of God to be intelligible to us so that we might know and understand what He says. Yet the Word of God goes forth, nevertheless. And He makes Himself known to us by conforming His heavenly speech to our meager language, and by bringing His unfathomable wisdom down to our level. Why does He do this—unless it is love that moves Him; unless it is mercy that drives Him? For only one reason, then, does Our Lord speak, and the Word of God go forth, and the Spirit of God carry the Lord’s Word into our ears. And that one reason is so that we might hear; and hearing, we might take to heart what He says; and by taking to heart, we might respond with faith and love; and by responding, we might attain the kingdom of heaven.

But how can we hear, how can we take to heart, how can we respond, and so how can we attain? Does not our hearing also trace back to the Lord’s mercy? Is it not the Lord’s mercy that not only sends forth His Word, but also sends us His Spirit so that the Lord’s Word is understood, and so does not die in our ears but bears fruit in our lives?

Humility - The Way of Life

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XVI.

Humility is the way of life for those who hope to be saved. Those who wish to navigate safely through the temptations, heartaches, stresses, hardships, sorrows and evils of this world must set aside pride, ambition, selfish desires, and their own agendas. They must not think of what most conveniences them, nor manipulate for their own benefit persons or events. Neither must they make ultimatums about when or how they will help another or apologize or be kind. These are all acts of pride—and so they are acts of self-destruction that drive us away from our heavenly goal.

Humility is not second nature to us. And so we must study the lives of the saints to learn from them the ways of humility. And we must continually ask the saints, and especially the Blessed Virgin Mary, to intercede for us so that we do not lose our way, so that we do not take the often traveled road of pride, but remain steadfast and ever-improving in the narrow way of humility. We must pray that we can learn from their example. We must pray that we may be supported, encouraged, and cheered on by their prayers. But above all, we must ask the saints—and especially the Blessed Virgin Mary—to help us always remember that while the Lord scatters the proud in the conceit of their heart and puts down the haughty, He exalts the humble and lifts up the lowly. In no other person is this lifting up of the humble more evident than in the holy Theotokos.

The Holy Apostle Peter tells us why we should be humble; why humility is the way of salvation. True humility is rooted in the firm faith that our Lord God is merciful. Listen to what St Peter says: God resisteth the proud, but to the humble he giveth grace. Be you humbled therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in the time of visitation: Casting all your care upon him, for he hath care of you. Keep in mind these words from the Holy Apostle. The humble man knows that the Lord cares for him. The humble man knows that the Lord’s mercy provides all things. And so the humble man pushes down his arrogance, his feelings of pride and his desire to get ahead or get even because the humble man constantly keeps before his mind’s eye where he fits in relation to God and in relation to all men.

That true humility--that humility that serves whomever we meet, especially those closest to us; that humility that sees in each spouse and child, in each relative and friend, in each coworker and stranger, someone who is better, most deserving and more worthy than we are—that humility is evident in the lives of the saints because they have within themselves the Spirit of Christ; and they do not wish to lose His Spirit, and so live with all their strength the mind of Christ. And what is the mind of Christ? Disregarding all that He is—that He is the God who ought to be obeyed and who can easily enforce His might—disregarding what He rightly deserves, Our Blessed Lord took the form of a servant and humbled Himself becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross. And because of this humility, God the Father exalted him, and has given him a name which is above all names.

This unselfish sacrifice on the cross; this free act of setting aside all He was for the sake of another; this willingness not to demand His due, not to insist on being served but to serve and give His life a ransom for many—this humility is the mind of Christ. By the Holy Spirit in baptism and chrismation, you have received this mind of Christ, the spirit of true humility. Our Lord Jesus, then, urges you in today’s Gospel not to live proudly and arrogantly, but to live humbly with God and all men. For this is what the Lord requires of you: to be just, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6.8)

This humility begins simply, in the commonest and simplest of all places—at the table. Whether the table is in your home, the home of another or at a restaurant, true humility is shown not when you elbow your way to the seat you prefer, and not when you insist that this is your chair or that you require special accommodations. True humility is shown when you wait for others, when you are the first to tend to the needs of others and when your hunger takes second place to making sure that others have what they want. In this simple way, at the table, you are not practicing good manners so much as you are practicing the way of salvation. For the way of salvation is the way Our Lord blazed—the way of serving rather than being served. And the way of salvation is the way modeled by the Holy Theotokos—the way of humbly and obediently receiving whatever the Lord gives without complaint, without modification, without concern for her own well-being. For in her, above all mortal men, we see the truth of Our Lord’s axiom: Every one that exalts himself, shall be humbled; and he that humbles himself, shall be exalted. Truly she is exalted and all generations call her blessed, because truly she humbled herself under the loving hand of God.

Seek the Lord's Bread

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XIV.


St Cyprian instructs us that when we pray for daily bread, we are asking first and foremost for Christ, who is the bread of life and “the bread of those who are in union with His body.” And so with this petition we are asking Our Father to restore to us the daily reception of the Eucharist “that we who are in Christ [may] daily receive the Eucharist for the food of salvation; [and that we] may not, by the interposition of some heinous sin…be separated from Christ’s body.” For our life—all that we are and all that we have and all that we need—flows from and depends upon this altar bread, this bread of heaven, this bread which is our Lord and God and Savior Jesus Christ. So by beseeching God to give us our daily bread, we are really stating that we have renounced all other breads—the bread of this world, the bread that men work to get—since these breads do not truly satisfy and are incapable of leading us in the way of salvation. So with this prayer, we are stating that we have renounced the world, with all its riches and enticements; and that we will live from only this one bread, one food—which is Christ Our Lord.

When that is our prayer—when we mean to say, “Give us each day Our Lord Jesus in the Eucharist; feed us daily with the Bread of Life; grant that we may commune in heart and mind, in body and soul, with this true Manna; and let us always partake of the chalice”—when that is our prayer, then we shall begin to do as Our Lord prescribes in today’s Gospel. For what did you hear Him say? Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. Is not this altar where the kingdom of God is for you at this time? Is not this place where the Lord’s kingdom comes and where it is set before you? And is it not the Lord’s will that all creatures, in heaven and earth, gather around His holy altar to offer themselves and the world in thanksgiving to God? To seek God’s kingdom, then, is to seek to be here, at this Mass, standing before the Lord’s altar, where you may, with a true heart, receive the living bread which comes down from heaven. For you know what your Lord has said. I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever: and the bread that I will give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.

Let your soul long, then, and even faint for the courts of the Lord. Let your heart and your flesh cry out for the living God (Ps 83[84]). For even the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O LORD of hosts. Perhaps this is why these fowls of the air sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns. For your heavenly Father feedeth them. He gives them their daily bread; and their daily bread depends on and even is Christ, who is the life of all the living. Certainly, you are of more value than sparrows. For not one of them is forgotten before God; yet the very hairs of your head He has numbered. So do not be anxious. Do not fret. Do not be afraid. Do not worry. And take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. … [T]he life [is] more than meat, and the body than clothing.

Our Lord does not withhold His mercy

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XIII.



Our Lord does not withhold His mercy from those who seek Him. We may be slow to seek Him, but He is quick to have mercy. We may slide into the same pit again and again, but He is quick to extend His hand and to pull us out of the pit we have dug. We may turn from Him or even turn on Him, but He is quick to embrace us when we return. We may forget Him, but He is quick to remember us when we return. We may not pray, but He is quick to hear whenever we speak. We may not listen, but He is quick to speak His comforting and soothing words. And we may question and doubt Our Lord’s presence, His desire, His wisdom, His justice and the effect of His blessings and life in us, but Our Lord nevertheless gives; He nevertheless blesses; He nevertheless comes through for us. He never forsakes us even though we may, for a time, forsake Him. Just as He never questions our desire to pray, even though we may question His eagerness to hear. For Our Lord is headstrong and stubborn about one thing—His love for us.

Yet there is more. Our Lord’s mercy comes with no strings attached. He does not give in order to get. He does not love because He needs our love. He does not live for us in order to validate His own life. Rather, Our Lord loves us because He loves us. While He tells us to love only Him, Our Lord does not withdraw His love when we refuse. While He commands us to pray to Him, Our Lord does not eliminate our daily bread or choke our every breath when we will not pray. While He instructs us to live solely for Him, Our Lord does not seek to destroy us when we live for ourselves. While He requires us to follow the disciplines He has established, Our Lord does not deny us all hope when we refuse. And while He urges us to offer everything back to Him in thanksgiving, Our Lord does not deny His mercy, His love, His kindness whenever we are ungrateful.

Our Lord does not withhold His mercy from those who seek Him. Rather, He continually reaches out to us, inviting and enticing us back to Him—back to His warm embrace and His fatherly caress and His loving kindness which exceeds all that we can ever imagine or desire.

Our Lord Deigns to Have Mercy

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost XI.



Whenever Our Lord performs a miracle, the miracle is not that He proves Himself capable of healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, causing the deaf to hear, making the lame walk, giving speech to those whose speech is impeded, or even raising the dead. That is what consistently astonishes the crowd—as we heard once again in today’s Gospel. They are taken aback and awestruck that Our Lord Jesus could heal the man that was brought to Him. Yet if Our Lord God is all that we say He is, all that He claims to be, all that we expect or hope or pray of Him, then we should not wonder or be surprised when He does what we believe He can do. The miracle, then, is not that Our Lord is capable of healing. The true miracle is that He wills to do so. The miracle is that Our Lord chooses to extend His healing hand to those in need.

The miracle is that Our Lord positions Himself so that He can be approached; that He makes Himself accessible to us. The miracle is that Our Lord both desires to hear our prayer to Him, and in fact invites us to cry to Him for help. And so the miracle is that Our God of hosts turns toward us and looks down from heaven, and sees, and visits this vineyard which [His] right hand has planted; and upon the son of man whom [He] has confirmed for [Himself]. (Ps 79.15-16 lxx)

Our Lord deigns to hear us, to visit is, to heal us, because He is a God of mercy. He does not delight in our self-destruction, but yearns that we return to Him with our whole heart. His passion is not strictness for the sake of strictness, but strictness that leads to our soul’s salvation. And so He does not chide or rebuke or scold to prove how right He is, or to put us in our place; but rather so that we might both see and believe that His way and the disciplines He imposes is the way that pulls us out of the pit we have dug, and leads us into the warm and loving embrace that He is.

With a Humble Spirit & a Contrite Heart

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost X.


The hallmarks of godly prayer are two things: a humble spirit and a contrite, repentant heart. A humble spirit and a contrite heart indicate true faith, which is necessary for true prayer. A humble spirit and a contrite heart open the soul to hear what the body is saying and doing. And a humble spirit and a contrite heart give life to your prayer so that you both do and obey the words (Ex 24.3 lxx) you hear and say.

A humble spirit and a contrite, repentant heart are not attitudes, thoughts or approaches to prayer that you can muster or conjure on your own. These are gifts of the Holy Spirit. They are gifts He freely gives to all who invoke the Lord’s Name; to all who pray. Yet these gifts are of no use if they are not used. For the Spirit does not automatically impose upon you a new spirit. Rather, your spirit must not reject but welcome and serve the Holy Spirit. In the same way, your spirit must not simply receive the Spirit’s gifts, but must unwrap, use and enjoy whatever the Spirit gives. Those who leave the Spirit’s gifts unopened may say all the prayers in the right way, and do all that the Lord requires, and follow all the disciplines of the Church; but their spirit will never be animated by the Holy Spirit. For they have not lived in the Spirit, but according to their own spirit. But the person submits his spirit to the Holy Spirit—that person welcomes and uses the Spirit’s gifts and so will no longer strive with God’s Spirit (Gen 6.3) but will, with his spirit, serve in the gospel of God’s Son (Rom 1.9).

Our Lord Weeps Tears of Love

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for Gregorian Use parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the sermon is based on the Gospel reading for Pentecost IX: St. Luke 19.41-47.


God our Savior will have all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. Therefore, Our Lord God is constantly reaching out to us; constantly seeking us out; constantly offering Himself to us. And as He does, He urges us to deny our self-chosen loves, to sacrifice willingly and freely all that we are, and to live in the love that He gives, the love that He is. For He truly cares for us. And so Our Father does not wish us to suffer misery, or to grieve, or to experience hardship. Neither does our Father desire, will, plan or devise that one of us should turn away from Him and His mercy. He would rather that we attain true and lasting happiness by faith and obedience. He would rather that we attain the good that He is, and live forever within Him, by abandoning self-reliance and instead pinning our hopes solely to Him. When we do that, then we have the freedom to own up to the evil we do, the meanness we feel, the temptations that overtake us, the fears that control us. For when we rely solely on Our Lord and look to Him as the most loving Father, then we know that He will not turn His back on us, that He will quickly and enthusiastically embrace us, that whatever suffering we endure will be for our everlasting good, and that He will never cease to lavish upon us His unending love.

This love we see in today’s Gospel. Our Lord Jesus looks down on Jerusalem—not in anger, but in love. He sees them as they are now, and also sees what they will do and the regrettable path they will take. He sees the disobedience, the pride and the arrogance of His beloved people—of the people He calls His own. He sees them pulled along by the nose by their selfish desires, and enslaved by their fears, and blinded by their hatred. And He sees the end—how it will all play out, how they will destroy themselves, how their pride will bring down their beautiful city and their wicked instinct will drive them to consume their own children. (Cf) When Our Lord Jesus sees all this, He pities them. And when He beholds the city, He weeps over it.

Let us understand that Our Lord weeps, not because He is helpless in the face of such evil. For the Lord does not stand idly by when the devil attacks His creation; or when evil threatens good; or when the wicked murder the righteous. Our Lord weeps, not because He is helpless or because His hands are tied. Rather, Our Lord weeps because they refuse the help He offers, the mercy He speaks, the forgiveness He presents, the hope He gives, the love He is. He weeps because He offers them a way out—the only way out—and they will have nothing to do with Him and His offer. He weeps because He knows it does not have to end this way, yet He sees that they are bent on destroying themselves. But most of all, Our Lord weeps because He loves them; and in His love, He longs for them to attain happiness by loving Him, by trusting Him, by fearing nothing but Him, and so by welcoming the peace with God that He is and gives. Yet they refuse to know the things that make for their peace.

Let us also understand that Our Lord’s love is not like the fearful love that we often have for others. Our Lord will not smother us with His love. He will not love us in such a way that He forcefully makes us love Him. He will not override the freedom He has given us to choose our own loves. And so, like all true love, He risks all—even losing us—so that He might gain us wholly and completely. And so Our Lord weeps—because His beloved has spurned true love; because His beloved has rejected His love; because His beloved has preferred another love—a love that will not satisfy, that will fade, that is fickle; and so, a love that is not strong as death, and will not raise the dead to life.

Yet Our Lord has been raised from the dead. He is strong as death because He overcame death. And Our Lord is stronger than death since He has both raised us from the dead, and will raise us from the graves. And so you have seen His love—how He willingly sacrificed all for us; how He gave of Himself entirely so that we might entirely have Him and His love. This has not been hidden from your eyes of faith; and you have known the things that make for your peace. And with all this, you know that you have also been called His own, His beloved, the love of His life.

Zeal for the Life to Come

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for "Gregorian Use" parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the Gospel reading was St. Luke 16.1-9.


The depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God are so unsearchable, and so surpass our knowledge and exceed our imagination that Our Lord must resort to seemingly strange non-examples in order to illustrate His mercy which we can barely fathom. And so it is in today’s Gospel. We hear Our Lord tell a parable about an unjust steward—a fraudulent and ungodly man whom Our Lord commends because of his wisdom and shrewdness in getting what is not his and in making sure that his crime leads to a soft landing. Why does Our Lord commend such wicked perfidy, such unchristian treachery? Why does our perfect Lord God hold up this criminal as a shining example? What lesson does Our Lord wish to teach us?

The last words you heard sung give us a clue: “The children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.” To say it another way: those who seek to indulge their flesh, who live as if this life matters most, who look not beyond the grave and yearn for nothing more than the fading, corruptible things that seem to give momentary relief—these folks are more zealous and clever and driven in their pursuit of these things, than those of us who have renounced these things and strive to pursue the kingdom of heaven and the fullness of life in God. Their determination far outdoes our own; and we should be ashamed. That’s Our Lord’s point. That’s His lesson. Put yet another way—Oh, that we exhibited as much energy and passion for the things that lead us into the eternal love of God as many have for the things that drive man more quickly and more deeply into hades.

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[P]erhaps you can [also] see that in the parable Our Lord makes yet another point—a more subtle point: namely, that we are both the children of this world and the children of light. In other words, the unjust steward is not the example of the person we’re not or should never be. Rather, Our Lord is subtly stating that we are the unjust steward who often fixates only on this world and the fleeting gratification it offers, while neglecting to stoke and feed the flame of Christ’s light within that urges us to look beyond this world, beyond its empty promises and false hopes, beyond its short-lived loves and into God Himself and the kingdom He has prepared for us, and the love that He is and embraces us with and desires us always to live within.

Who, then, is the rich man? Is it not Christ Our Lord? And are we not the squandering steward—to whom the possession of the world has been completely entrusted for cultivation; and who, in baptism, promised to offer the world back to God not in selfish enjoyment, but in thanksgiving for His enduring mercy?

Let us understand, then, that, in the depth of His rich mercy, Our Lord God reaches out to us and cries out for us in this parable that you have heard. He cries out to us—so that we might not lose our way, but return and continue to be the good stewards of His creation, of His kindness, of His love. And He reaches out to us—so that, by His Spirit, He might enkindle in us a greater zeal, fervency and love for the life to come so that we are willing to sacrifice all that we are and all that we have as we strive to obtain that which matters most. And that which matters most is not this world for our own enjoyment and pleasure. What matters most is this world offered to Him so that He might renew, sanctify, quicken, bless and bestow it back upon us as the good thing that He first made it to be. What matters most is that we make use of this world’s goods, not for our selfish ends, but so that Our Lord might convert them to be the means of our salvation. And so what matters most is that we readily sacrifice our self-loves, our selfish desires, and what we think satisfies—all so that we obtain the fullness of our true love, our heart’s true desire, and all that Our Lord has promised.

False Prophets, False Promises

The following is an excerpt from the sermon preached at Holy Incarnation Antiochian Orthodox Christian Church. Following the lectionary for "Gregorian Use" parishes in the Western Rite Vicariate, the Gospel reading was St. Matthew 7.15-21.



False prophets make false promises. And false promises are false because they offer nothing real, nothing lasting. They promise not to gratify your soul, but to gratify your flesh. They promise not to deliver you from this world’s evil and death, but to help you embrace temptation and sin. They promise great rewards not to those who sacrifice themselves for others, but to those who sacrifice to improve themselves. They promise not to bring you closer to your Lord God, but to draw you more and more inside yourself. And so false prophets “promise a wisdom and a knowledge of the truth which they do not possess.” (St Augustine) In doing so, they set before our eyes the goal of making the best of life in this world. Or they urge us to disdain this world in favor a world without form, and void; a world that is no world; a world that is the product of vain imagination.

Truth says that we should be aware of false prophets with their empty promises. For they come not to comfort, but to devour. They falsely promise a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death. (Prov 16.25) And so they come not to help us in the Way and strengthen us along the Way, but to distract, to discourage and to dispirit us in the Way that leads to through death to Life, through sacrifice to Love, through evil to Good Himself. Truth warns us; yet His desire is not to scare us. Neither does He want us to lose heart. Rather, He wants us to see clearly the Way the Spirit gives us to walk, the Way which Our Lord Jesus is, the Way that leads into the passionate embrace of Our Father. This Way is not easy. Truth Himself says as much when He tells us not to judge, not to condemn, not to get angry, not to make vows rashly and not to follow our wandering eye. And we know the Way is not easy when Truth says that we should love our enemies, give to those in need, and fear nothing except losing Him.

Again, Our Lord’s desire is not to scare us off, but to let us know how it is. Forewarned is forearmed. And so He wants us to know what deceits the devil will use, what schemes the world will employ, what pull our own flesh will exert—and also, what false promises false prophets will make. Resist these, Our Lord says. Abstain from that which takes your eyes off Me. Refrain from that which uses your body not for My glory. Defy that which speaks against Me and My promises. And avoid at all costs that which disrupts your life with Me.