In the Collect for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, we ask God to grant us a deep and perfect knowledge of Jesus Christ as “the way, the truth, and the life,” so that we might follow steadfastly in His steps towards eternal life. These are familiar words, drawn from Jesus’ own mouth in John’s Gospel, but they also present a challenge: what does it mean, day by day, to walk in the way of Jesus? And what is the life we are promised when we follow Him?

This Sunday’s readings offer a rich and hopeful vision of what that way and life look like. In particular, Revelation 21:1–6 gives us an image of where the journey ends—or perhaps better said, where it begins anew. The writer of Revelation beholds “a new heaven and a new earth,” a holy city where God dwells intimately with humanity, wiping every tear from every eye. “See,” the voice from the throne declares, “I am making all things new.”

This is not just a vision of heaven far off in time or space; it is the culmination of God’s ongoing work of renewal in us and in the world through Christ. Jesus, who is the way, does not lead us out of this world but through it, into its healing and transformation. Eternal life, then, is not only a promise for after death—it is the fruit of a life lived in tune with the risen Christ, here and now.

This vision gains even more power when we remember the context of John’s writing. Revelation was composed in a time of fear, oppression, and uncertainty. The early church was not a place of privilege but of vulnerability. And yet it is into that very space of longing and struggle that God speaks the promise: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” The One who began the work will surely bring it to completion.

To walk in this way of Jesus means, among other things, trusting that God’s renewal is already at work in places that look forgotten, overlooked, or even lost. In Acts 11, Peter recounts his vision that leads him to welcome Gentiles into the household of faith—a radical expansion of the church’s boundaries. The Spirit is moving, and the church must follow.

Psalm 148 reminds us that this praise is not ours alone. The entire created order—sun, moon, fire, hail, fruit trees and mountains—joins the chorus. God’s renewal is not limited to human hearts but extends to all creation.

And then, in John 13, Jesus gives us a simple but powerful commandment: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” If we are seeking a clear step on the way that leads to life, here it is. Love is the road. Not just a vague or sentimental affection, but the kind of love that washes feet, bears the cross, and embraces the outcast.

To know Christ as the way, the truth, and the life is to commit ourselves to that kind of love—to believe that in doing so, we are joining the Spirit’s movement towards the new creation. The city of God is not just our destination. It is the shape of our discipleship.

So, in this Easter season, let us walk the road with hope, looking for signs of renewal, listening for the Spirit’s leading, and loving as Christ loved. “To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life,” says the Lord. May we drink deeply—and may we offer that water freely to others, until all is made new.

The Fourth Sunday of Easter is usually known as “Good Shepherd Sunday” because the readings on this coming Sunday all point to God and His Christ as the Good Shepherd, whose beloved sheep we have become through His loving grace.

I remember I served a low-income countryside church named The Good Shepherd in Cuba for about four years. Though they barely had resources to sustain their parish, the celebration of their patronal feast on this Sunday was a great event for them. There was always an abundance of food, joy, and grace, and they even used to invite the members of a nearby parish to celebrate with them!

The image of God and His beloved Son Jesus as the Good Shepherd has inspired artists and musicians throughout the centuries, giving us wonderful artistic representations of the Good Shepherd, and beautiful musical renderings of Psalm 23.

Shepherding was a common activity in the world where Jesus lived, and the Old Testament has several references to God as the Good Shepherd, and also to the leaders of Israel as not always being the good shepherds they had been called to be for their people.

It is only natural, then, that Jesus Himself made use of these well-known images in His sayings, to refer to Himself, and to the “so-called” leaders of the people in His time. It is also significant to notice that since the beginning of Christianity Jesus was identified as the sacrificial Lamb of God “who takes away the sins of the world.”, thus making reference to the continual Jewish sacrifices of lambs which—conversely—were never able to really take them away.

In this respect, we could figuratively say that Jesus is the Lamb of God on one side, and the Good Shepherd on the other—whether it is the front or the back side in each case is of no relevance. Likewise, we could say that we—His followers—are also His sheep on one side and shepherds on the other, since we are all called to heed His voice leading us to eternal life, but are also called to lead others to Him.

One essential thing to always remember, though, is that the sheep—whether we ourselves or those we are leading to Him—are always His, not ours.

Last Sunday we had the Gospel reading in which Jesus has the conversation with Peter to fully restore His loving relationship with him. Each time Peter replies that he loves Jesus, what Jesus commands to Peter is “to feed, or tend His sheep”—not Peter’s sheep, but Jesus’ sheep.

In a world where personal importance through the accumulation of material wealth, prestige, or fame has become the greatest of all idols, it is more relevant than ever to mark Jesus’ words: “tend My sheep, feed My sheep.” Spiritual leaders are more than ever prone to fall into the temptation to let themselves be idolized. But the only way to be a good spiritual leader is to point solely to Him who—according to John’s heavenly vision in the Book of Revelation—is the Lamb “at the center of the throne (who) will be their shepherd, and He will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

May we always be counted among those described in the vision!

Where can we turn our eyes in today’s world to perceive Christ’s redeeming work? In a world full of conflict, war, and hopelessness for so many, guided by the self-centered agendas of the wealthiest, and blindly followed by masses with little power of discernment, what is the hope that Christ’s message of new and resurrected life can still transform and redeem people’s lives?

This is a crucial question, and yet, we should not pose it in a sarcastic or defeatist way. If we take a look at the history of humankind, going back to the times of Jesus and even centuries before, we can notice how a similar thought pattern pervaded the lives of those who were then on this planet. And if we look at more recent times, the picture is not any different.

The Collect for this Sunday exhorts us to “open the eyes of the faith, that we may behold Him in all His redeeming work.”

What does opening the eyes of the faith imply? Faith has wrongly been equated to an intellectual activity, but its true essence implies a total inner transformation of one’s life. True faith is a deep conviction whose basis is not empirical knowledge. It affects much more than the mind. It brings about a change of our whole behavior and attitude in our daily lives, and constitutes the driving force for feats that might have seem impossible for us before.

In chapter 9 of the Book of Acts we read about the conversion of St. Paul (whose name was Saul). Here was a man whose religious convictions led him to persecute those of the Way—Jesus’ early followers—in a relentless way. Then he had an overwhelmingly dramatic and personal encounter with the Lord Jesus while he was on the way to Damascus to imprison more of Jesus’ followers. As a result he was physically blinded, and then one of Jesus’ followers restored his eyesight. From this moment on, Paul became a real militant believer, a powerful apostle and evangelist, who spread the Good News of Salvation to the gentile world.

It is interesting that the narrative tells us that “something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored.” This may be a way of emphasizing that his blindness was something heavy and dense. It may make reference to a blindness that goes beyond the physical, and that affected his whole previous life.

If we look at Saul’s vision before his conversion we see much in common with the negative picture we depicted in our opening paragraph. He saw a world where the Roman Empire subjected other nations to their rule and exploited them, and where conflict and even armed uprisings constantly took place. His was a world where the masses blindly followed the “authorized” way of thinking—a way that he himself had rigorously followed.

What Saul could not see before his encounter with Jesus was that the Way of radical, unconditional love—God’s all-embracing love for—all had burst into the world, in the very land where he was living, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth, and that He whom the religious and political powers of his land had put to death on a cross, had been raised to a new and glorious life, thus transforming the lives of thousands of followers, and giving them the greatest and most certain hope: the hope of a resurrected life lived in God’s unconditional love, and shared with all humans, all living beings, and the whole of creation.

This is what we, Christ’s followers in every generation, are invited to open our eyes to—despite the brokenness surrounding us—and to share this life-transforming vision with every person we come in contact to, that the world may eventually be transformed into what our Creator has always meant it to be.

As we come to the Second Sunday of Easter, the Alleluias of resurrection still ring in our ears, but the readings this week gently shift our focus from the event of the Resurrection to its implications. The Collect sets the themes: we are to “show forth in our lives what we profess by our faith.” In other words, Easter is not simply a moment to celebrate; it is a new way to live.

In Acts 5:27–32, we see the apostles standing boldly before the council, facing interrogation for proclaiming the risen Christ. Peter’s response is clear and bold: “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” This is not defiance for its own sake. It is the natural fruit of an Easter faith—where fear has been replaced by conviction, and silence by witness. These apostles, once locked away in fear after the crucifixion, are now standing in the full light of the Resurrection, willing to suffer for the sake of truth. Their witness is not only in words but in courage, action, and a life transformed.

That same invitation comes to us today. As Revelation 1:4–8 reminds us, we are part of a kingdom of priests, called to serve “him who loves us and freed us…by his blood.” The language of priesthood implies more than mere reverence or liturgy—it suggests mediation, standing in the in-between spaces of the world, helping others encounter God through our presence, our choices, and our love. The Resurrection is not only something to believe in—it is something to live out.

Psalm 150 resounds with praise, inviting everything that has breath to praise the Lord. It is as if all creation joins in testifying to the new life made possible in Christ. Praise, like witness, is not reserved for holy places or holy moments. It fills the ordinary and the everyday. It is what happens when Easter joy spills over.

In the Gospel reading from John 20:19–31, we return to that tender moment when the risen Jesus comes to his fearful disciples. He breathes peace into their anxiety, and sends them just as the Father sent him. Even Thomas, who doubted, is drawn into this moment of grace—not chastised but invited to touch, to see, to believe. And then, as if reaching forward through time, Jesus says: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

This is us. We are the ones who have not seen, and yet believe. And now, like those first apostles, we are sent—to live visibly what we inwardly believe, to show forth in our lives the grace we have received.

So as we continue in this Easter season, let us ask ourselves: What does it look like, practically and visibly, to live as those reborn into the fellowship of Christ’s Body? Where is God calling us to speak when silence is comfortable, to act when fear holds others back, to praise when the world is weary?

May we be found faithful not only in what we profess on Sunday, but in what we embody on Monday and throughout the week. For Easter is not only a past event; it is a present calling. Christ is risen—and now, so must we rise, and witness with our lives.

On Maundy Thursday, we are usually grateful that some parishioners come forward, take off their shoes, and submit to Christ’s command about washing each other’s feet. But there is something awkward about this reenactment. We do not ordinarily wash anything but our hands in front of other people, much less have someone else do the washing for us. Some people might ask visitors to take off their shoes before entering their home, but that is about as far as baring our feet goes in adult society, not counting the back yard or the beach. Certainly we don’t have servants performing ablutions. But in Jesus’ time a servant or the wife of the householder could be called upon to wash the feet of a distinguished or beloved guest to get the dust of the road off their sandaled feet.

The only other mention of this custom in the Gospels is in Luke. Simon the Pharisee has invited Jesus to dinner. A woman who was a sinner comes in off the street and proceeds to wet his feet with her tears, wipe them with her hair, and then anoint them with ointment from an alabaster flask. (This woman is not Mary Magdalene, whom Luke introduces in the next chapter as one of the women who support the disciples and Jesus with their means, and from whom seven demons were cast out by Jesus.) When Simon and his fellow Pharisees remark that a true prophet would not let this woman touch him because she is of ill repute, Jesus tells a short parable about forgiveness and adds, “Do you see this woman? I entered your house, you gave me no water for my feet, but she has wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not ceased to kiss my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment” (Luke 7:44-46). And John the Baptist speaks of not being worthy to untie his sandals, a reference to performing the work of a servant either in washing his feet or helping him undress.

Although some Episcopalians don’t want to participate in this ritual and some Episcopal churches do not include it in their Holy Week liturgies, on Maundy Thursday we all read in John’s Gospel how Jesus girded himself with a towel and washed all the disciples’ feet during their last meal together. It seems that he is acting out a parable with the last moments of his time with his disciples. We who seek to follow him today should carefully reflect on his words and actions, whatever our liturgical choices.

Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded. He came to Simon Peter; and Peter said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not know now, but afterward you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “He who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but he is clean all over; and you are clean, but not every one of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “You are not all clean.” (John 7:5-11)

What is it that they will understand afterward? First it is that they should act as servants to one another, as he tells them. But he is also referring to the lesson he will set later that evening by giving up his life freely, as he becomes the suffering servant of the Lord portrayed in Isaiah, the one who is despised and rejected but hides not his face from shame and spitting, who is wounded for our transgressions, and is cut off from the land of the living.

Furthermore, Jesus says that his washing their feet somehow means that they are part of him. Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no part in me.” Does that mean this foot washing is somehow an initiation into some deeper connection with Jesus at the end of their life together? Somehow submitting to Jesus acting as their servant in this way was essential to their understanding of who he was and who they were going to be after his earthly life ended. They are going to be sent out in his name. “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who receives any one whom I send receives me; and he who receives me receives him who sent me” (John 13:20).

It is significant, furthermore, that Jesus washed all the disciples’ feet, including Judas’s. “For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, ‘You are not all clean.’ He says, “I tell you this now, before it takes place, that when it does take place you may believe that I am he” (John 13:19). So the betrayal by one of his own will be another reason to believe that Jesus is indeed the Son of God, the Messiah, because Jesus has foretold the unthinkable—betrayal by one of his carefully selected and intimate friends who has been with him throughout his ministry. He reiterates that one of these disciples at table with him, whose feet he has just washed, who therefore has a part in him, will betray him. Instead of the Lord setting him a table in the presence of his enemies, as the Psalmist says, the enemy is right at the table with him, being served by him. As the disciples wonder who that could be, Jesus tells John (the disciple whom Jesus loved) that it is the one to whom he is giving a morsel of bread, and then gives it to Judas. Then “Satan enters into Judas” and Jesus tells him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.” Judas leaves the gathering in the upper room, “and it was night” (17, 30).

What is the connection between the foot washing and the announcement that one of the disciples will betray him?

Acting as a servant to his followers, even the one who he knew was his enemy, puts into deed his teaching that we should love our enemies and pray for those who hurt us. It can also be seen as Jesus forgiving Judas in advance, prefiguring the prayer from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” We should bear all these things in mind as we take off our shoes to come forward, or gird ourselves with a towel and pick up the pitcher and basin to kneel and pour water on the feet of others.

Or, if we do not participate in that ritual, we would do well simply to ponder again the actions and words Jesus offered all his disciples, even the traitor, at their last meal together. There is no institution of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John; that is found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. But the meal we Christians now celebrate as Holy Communion was originally begun with the traitor at the table with them all, allowing the Lord to wash his feet. As St. Paul later put it in Romans 5:8, “while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,” just as he did for Judas.

This week’s reflection was originally written by the Rev. Dr. Jean McCurdy Meade for The Living Church’s Online Journal, Covenant.

As we begin the solemn journey of Holy Week, we find ourselves in a paradox of celebration and sorrow. On Palm Sunday, at the start of the celebration, we lift our voices in joyful acclamation as we shout “Hosanna!” to Jesus, welcoming Him as the promised King who enters Jerusalem in triumph. We wave palm branches, symbols of victory and hope, singing praises to the One who comes in the name of the Lord. Yet, within a matter of minutes, we will shift our gaze from jubilant praise to the foot of the cross, where Jesus, this same King, will lay down His life in the most humiliating and agonizing of ways. The contrast between the Hosannas and the cries of “Crucify Him!” that we will hear later can feel almost schizophrenic, as if we are pulled between two irreconcilable emotions: celebration and grief, exaltation and despair.

In this tension, we hear the Apostle Paul’s words in Philippians 2:5-11, which offer a profound lens through which to view this paradox. Paul writes: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross.”

Paul invites us to adopt the same mindset as Christ, a mindset that leads to a seemingly contradictory place—where glory and humility, power and weakness, life and death meet. Jesus’ journey from the triumphant entry into Jerusalem to the tragic moment of His crucifixion reveals the depth of God’s love for humanity. We begin Holy Week with the joyful expectation of Jesus’ kingship, and yet we find that His kingship is not like the world’s kingships. His reign is one of self-emptying love, humility, and sacrifice. Jesus, though God, chose not to grasp at power or acclaim, but instead, He humbled Himself to the point of death on a cross.

The seeming schizophrenia of Palm Sunday—the wild shifts from joy to sorrow, from celebration to suffering—is a reflection of the very nature of Christ’s mission. We begin with the shouts of “Hosanna,” but the truth is, the very reason Jesus entered Jerusalem was to face the cross. He knew what awaited Him, and He chose to walk that path because of His deep love for us. His death was not a tragic accident or a moment of despair; it was the fulfillment of God’s redemptive plan for the world. This is why, even in the midst of His suffering, we can still see the seeds of hope and victory.

As we begin this week of remembering Christ’s passion, let us reflect on the paradox of our own faith. The same Jesus who rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, hailed as king, is the One who, just days later, will be rejected, mocked, and crucified. Yet, in His self-giving love, He will conquer death, and His exaltation will come not through worldly power but through the ultimate act of humility.

As Paul states in the aforementioned letter: “Therefore God also highly exalted Him and gave Him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

As we walk with Christ through this Holy Week, let us hold in tension the joy of His kingship and the sacrifice of His love, knowing that this is the way He brings us into the fullness of life.

May we, too, learn to adopt the mind of Christ—embracing humility and sacrificial love in our own lives—and allow the message of the cross to shape our understanding of true power and glory.

I would like to thank Edward Heck, Kathryn Bunch, Barbara Wilder, Emily Ortlieb, and Lois Meyers for contributing with their Lenten reflections for our weekly newsletter. Thank you so much for your special and personal insights on the readings for this Lenten Season. This is proof that our laity has so much to offer! It is also an invitation to all parishioners who feel drawn to write reflections on the readings for each week. If you would like to contribute, feel free to contact me and we can plan in advance.

No need to wait until next Lent!

Welcome, Christ Seekers!

Welcome to the end of your Lenten journey!

Have you learned something new on the Lenten Road? Has Jesus revealed more of Himself to you?

Have you revealed more of yourself to Christ?

My journey with Christ has entered its' 49th year. In the 1980s I listened to a lot of Contemporary Christian bands. One of my favorites was a band called Petra. One of their songs has always stuck with me: "Road to Zion", by Mike Hudson. I will give you a taste of the song below:

There is a way that leads to life
The few that find it never die.
Past mountain peaks graced white with snow
The Way grows brighter as it goes.

There is a road inside of you
Inside of me there is one too.
No stumbling Pilgrim in the dark
The Road to Zion's in your heart.

I could sing this for you, but I'd rather share the "Road to Zion" with you, with the band singing it.
Go online to YouTube, there are many versions of the song. Search for Petra: "Road to Zion" (with lyrics), posted by Iskander 75. I think you will like this particular setting, scenery and all.

In some verses from Isaiah 43:16,18 &19,
God has something to say about traveling:


Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea,
a path in the mighty waters.
Do not remember the former things
or consider the things of old.
I AM about to do a new thing; now it springs forth;
Do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert.


Keep your heart open to new journeys!

Lois Myers
Junior Warden

I began this Lenten season with a lofty goal: spring cleaning by way of going through everything in our possession. Admirable? Yes. Realistic? Not quite. Because you see, by the time I manage to complete my work day, exercise, spend time with my spouse, care for my fur babes, and go about the ordinary tasks of life, I am left with little time for anything else. Last week, I decided to apply a method I’ve used for my entire life in music and acrobatic skill-building endeavors: breaking the goal “skill” (a tidy, organized, and far less-cluttered home) into the smallest pieces that will get me there. And so I arrived at a much more realistic way to get there: everyday, I give away or dispose of one thing. So far, it’s been more than one thing everyday, leading to a feeling of satisfaction but more importantly, I get a little closer to my goal. Do I still feel overwhelmed? Of course. But I try hard to keep my eyes on the prize and not overthink it, as I am prone to do.

Now, what on earth could this have to do with any of the scriptures we are given for this week? A great question. Kindly indulge my longwinded answer. My husband and I have begun the (wonderful) series David on Amazon Prime (it’s so good. Highly recommend). You are likely aware of David’s connection to the psalms: nearly half of them are attributed to him. I have always been one to gravitate toward them, as I am a musician and singer. (I also find the depiction of David’s musical life in the series to be so well done). And this week, we get an absolute banger of a psalm in number 32, which I remember as the “you are my hiding place” Psalm. “I will instruct you and teach you in the way that you should go; I will guide you with my eye.” This is the phrase that stuck out to me when I read it this time around.

As a human rights lawyer for the better part of the last decade, I have born witness to unspeakable things. Horrors that human beings enact upon each other which will haunt me until my final day. For several years now, a question I constantly return to is: when did I choose this? How in the world did I ever consent to this life and this path? These questions loomed loudly and weighed me down as I dozed in the backseat of Father Carlos’s Mini Cooper with Mother Christina at the wheel on our way to Palm Springs for the Episcopal Convention last November. Then seemingly out of nowhere, Mother Christina goes, “I did not choose this, He chose it for me.” And there it was. The answer I had been seeking.

Later that afternoon I approached her to explain and thank her for this morsel of clarity. While I don’t necessarily remember her exact words, I experienced a noticeable imparting of grace in the encouragement she gave to me. I cannot quite describe it, other than being sparked alive with peace and joy and vitality. I have had several moments of this since then, and feel a strong sense of purpose in my life that I cling to constantly. It’s done wonders for my ability to navigate the complex and constantly-changing world of immigration law and policy. And while I am fortunate to have received such a truly life-altering clarity in Mother Christina sharing the Lord’s words with me, I also get little moments of instruction, too (Remember? “I will instruct you and teach you in the way that you should go; I will guide you with my eye”). And one of those moments was applying a form of skill building with which I am intimately aware to the clutter and disorganization in my home. If we seek the Lord in all things, we will surely find Him there.

Praying for you always and sending big hugs,
Emily Ortlieb

The word Lent comes from Old English referring to spring season and lengthening of the days – when the days get longer and the earth turns warmer, renewing the landscape. The season of Lent is traditionally considered a “penitential season” – one where we look deeply into ourselves, mindful of God and His laws, and regret our misdoings so deeply as to change our hearts and minds leading to new spiritual habits and understandings. This is like coming out of a spiritual winter and entering a spiritual spring with new healthy growth and a warming of our hearts.

In the Old Testament reading for this third week of Lent (Exodus 3:1-15), we see Moses, now just a lowly shepherd, turning aside to the burning bush that doesn’t burn and where he hears the true name of God from God Himself! Who wouldn’t be afraid? God then asks Moses to do what seems impossible and assures Moses that He will be with him. This gives Moses the strength to turn from his current life to go back to Egypt and accomplish the freedom of his people, the Hebrew slaves, despite the power of Pharaoh. Moses is destined to help his people renew their connection to God, to turn away from the winter of their life in Egypt.

The psalm for this week is Psalm 63:1-8. Like newly sprouting seeds seeking the warmth of the sun, the psalmist is eagerly reaching for God, “my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you”. In this, we recognize that God is the True Source of all things and the Protector of our souls – One to be praised, respected, trusted, followed! “For you have been my helper ... my soul clings to you; your right hand holds me fast.” But how easily we can forget that God is this entwined with our daily lives! We worry about having “enough” when we really do have plenty – but our definition of “plenty” is often different than God’s definition. If we turn and focus on God in our minute-to-minute lives, we will be renewed and more able to recognize that “plenty” with God is much more filling than over-indulgence.

Saint Luke records (Luke 13:1-9) Jesus and His followers talking about folks who had died due to circumstances beyond their control. Jesus tells them that such things can happen even to innocent people, but that doesn’t exclude the need for each of us to be aware of our own sins and to repent of them. Then Jesus tells them about an unproductive fig tree that the master wants to cut down. The gardener asks for one more year to show it can be fruitful – to spare it from judgement and give it another chance to “turn over a new leaf” and be renewed with the gardener’s help. Jesus is our Gardener – giving us an opportunity to turn from our sinful ways and renew our soul in God’s love that we may be

Paul, in his First Letter to the Corinthians (10:1-13), reminds us of Moses’ story and the meaning of it for the church in Corinth. Paul sees them as falling into many behaviors contrary to what Jesus would want, things that are offensive to God and must be stopped! He is quite harsh with his words to this church but concludes this passage with “All are tested in life, but God is at work to give us courage to face life’s tests.”

As the Collect for this Sunday says, “Almighty God, You know that we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves: Keep us both outwardly in our bodies and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul ...”

Barbara Wilder

The Old Testament Lesson from Genesis 15:1-12,17-18 allows us as followers of Our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ, that we are to be ever open to our Lord’s Commands for our daily walk with Him. In this case a beloved Old Testament follower was the key person whom our Lord was instructing to listen to Him and without question to obey His direction.

Abraham of course, like all of us, was questioning God’s direction and later realized that he was being called in a special way that would go on the rest of his life on this earth. The final point which is not in these passages was God’s call for Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Issac. Abraham obeyed this command with a heavy heart and at the last moment prior to his killing his son the Lord intervened and provided a lamb in the thicket to replace his son.

During this Holy Season of Lent, may we prayerfully recommit our lives to our Lord Christ in such a way that we too will trust our Lord’s commands and trust in Him to show us the way of His leading in our spiritual lives. We have been entrusted to follow in the footsteps of our Lord even to the Cross, where He took our place, so that we might be free of eternal damnation and one day live with Him forever.

In the Epistle Lesson from Philippians 3:17-4:1, St. Paul notes to his parishioners to trust in the Lord and stop the foolishness of living as non-believers when they have been taught that is not the way to live out their lives on this earth.

On The Gospel from St Luke 13:31-35
Jesus, Himself, is rebuking the teachers in the temple, when they are warning Him of Herod and his intentions. Our Lord of course knew where and when His time was and noted that to the Pharisees as well. One of my favorite sayings of Jesus from this time was telling that old fox to basically back off, as He still had work to do here on this earth.

As long as we are alive on this earth, we too have work to do for our Lord and during this Holy season of Lent, may we all recommit ourselves to sharing His word of Salvation and how to live each day as if it were our last, prior to joining Him in our eternal place in Heaven.

Prayers always,
Kathryn Bunch

During the Epiphany season, most of our Gospel lessons focused on the manifestation (or revelation) of the divinity of Jesus. The visit of the Magi, the baptism of our Lord, the changing of water to wine at the wedding at Cana, the Transfiguration, and the calling of Peter, James, and John all reflect the special relationship between Jesus and God the Father. After the baptism of Jesus, for example, a voice from heaven proclaims, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Luke 3: 22).

On Ash Wednesday, the tone of the lessons changed with emphasis on fasting and repentance. On the First Sunday in Lent, we hear about Jesus’s forty days of fasting in the wilderness and can see how the temptations of Satan point to the human nature of our Lord. The forty days of fasting, of course, provide the basis for our own observance of the forty days of Lent. Throughout the season we recall how Jesus responded to temptation in the words of the first Proper Preface for celebrations of the Eucharist in Lent: “Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who was in every way tempted as we are, yet did not sin; by whose grace we are able to triumph over every evil, and to live no longer unto ourselves, but unto him who died for us and rose again.”

In addition to recalling how Jesus resisted temptation, this Proper Preface also looks forward to Easter and the Resurrection of our Lord. The theme of Resurrection can also be found in the first two lessons for the First Sunday of Lent. In St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans, he declares that “if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10: 9).

The Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy explains how to conduct the annual offering of the “first fruits” of the harvest. Commentators suggest that this offering is part of an ancient ceremony observed before the building of King Solomon’s temple (I Kings 6: 1-38). After the priest takes the basket of first fruits, the worshipper is to recite key elements of the story of salvation history. During seven years of famine Jacob went down to Egypt, where the Hebrew people lived as aliens and became a great nation. Later the Egyptians oppressed the people with hard labor. But “the LORD heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression” (Deuteronomy 26: 7).

And then comes a short summary of the highlight – the story of the Exodus that will be read as we begin our observance of the Resurrection at the Easter vigil. “The LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders.” (Deuteronomy 26: 8).

Even as we begin our journey through Lent, we look forward to the Resurrection, the event at the heart of our Christian faith.

Edward Heck

In this final Sunday after the Epiphany, we are invited to reflect on a moment of divine transformation — the Transfiguration of Jesus.

The Transfiguration, which we encounter in the Gospel of Luke (9:28-36), is a pivotal moment in the life of Christ. Jesus, along with Peter, James, and John, ascends a mountain to pray. There, in a moment of divine revelation, the disciples witness Jesus’ appearance transform as His face shines like the sun and His clothes become dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear with Him, representing the Law and the Prophets, and they converse with Jesus about His upcoming departure, His passion, death, and resurrection. A cloud envelops them, and a voice from heaven declares, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

This moment of revelation is not just a display of Jesus’ divine nature, but an invitation for us to behold the light of His presence. For the disciples, it is a glimpse of the glory of God. For us, it is an invitation to walk in that glory, to be strengthened in faith, and to be transformed by the light of Christ. As the Collect prays, “Grant to us that we… may be changed into his likeness from glory to glory…” This is a journey of transformation that we are called to walk.

The Epistle reading from 2 Corinthians (3:12–4:2) further illuminates this theme of transformation. St. Paul writes about the transformative power of Christ, contrasting the fading glory of the Old Covenant with the ever-increasing glory of the New Covenant in Christ. He speaks of how Moses, after encountering God on Mount Sinai, had to veil his face because it shone with the reflected glory of God, a glory that would eventually fade. But in Christ, Paul declares, the glory is not fading — it is ever-increasing, leading us from one level of glory to another.

For Paul, this transformation is not just about outward appearances; it is about an inward change of the heart. “Whenever anyone turns to the Lord,” he writes, “the veil is taken away.” Through Christ, we are given direct access to God, and we can behold His glory not with a veil, but with unveiled faces. We are invited to reflect that glory in our lives and to be transformed into Christ's likeness. This is not a passive process, but an active one, requiring a turning towards God, a turning that opens us to be shaped and molded by His presence.

The Exodus reading (34:29-35) gives us a powerful image of Moses’ encounter with God on Mount Sinai. His face shone so brightly after speaking with God that the Israelites were afraid to approach him. Moses had to veil his face to speak with the people, but when he entered the presence of the Lord again, he removed the veil. The image of Moses radiating God's glory is a foreshadowing of the greater glory revealed in Christ. What Moses experienced in part, we now experience in full through the revelation of Jesus Christ, who calls us to follow Him in the light of His glory. The psalmist in Psalm 99 echoes this, singing of God's holiness, majesty, and awe-inspiring presence. The Lord, enthroned in glory, is a God worthy of reverence, yet He also draws near to His people. "Exalt the Lord our God, and worship at His holy hill," the psalmist invites us.

The readings remind us that transformation is not a one-time event but a continuous journey. Just as Moses’ face radiated the glory of God after encountering Him, so too are we called to reflect the glory of Christ as we encounter Him in prayer, in Scripture, and in the sacramental life of the Church. This glory is not meant to be hidden or veiled but to be a light to the world, a light that strengthens us to bear our crosses and follow Christ more closely.

As we prepare for the season of Lent, we are reminded that transformation requires sacrifice, and the cross is the path to true glory. The Transfiguration reveals the end of the journey — the glory that awaits us — but it also challenges us to look beyond the mountaintop and see the way that leads to the cross. It is only through the cross that we are able to fully behold the glory of God.

On this Last Sunday after the Epiphany, we are called to behold the light of Christ's countenance and allow that light to transform us, to strengthen us to bear our own crosses, and to lead us into greater likeness with Him. May we be changed from glory to glory, ever reflecting His radiance in the world.

This Sunday, as we reflect on the theme of love, as stated in the Collect, we are reminded of how love binds together all things and forms the very foundation of peace and virtue. Without love, we are "accounted dead before God," a stark reminder of its essential place in our lives. Our readings today explore different facets of love, from the forgiveness seen in Joseph’s reconciliation with his brothers to the radical love Jesus describes in the Gospel of Luke. But it is the passage from 1 Corinthians 15 that calls us to a deeper understanding of love’s transformative power.

In 1 Corinthians 15:35-50, Paul speaks about the mystery of the resurrection and the transformation of the body. He contrasts the natural body with the spiritual, saying, "What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable." This powerful image emphasizes the transformative nature of love—it changes us, even at our most fundamental level. Just as the seed must die before it can bloom, the Way of Love, as exemplified by Christ, requires a kind of death to self. It is a dying to old ways of being that are rooted in selfishness, pride, and division, and a rising to new life in the love of God.

Paul’s words about the body are more than just theological abstractions—they are a call to live differently now. We are not only waiting for a transformation after death; we are called to embody the transformation today, through the love of God. Paul stresses that the perishable must put on the imperishable, and the mortal must put on immortality. This transformation is not just a change of form, but a change of heart, a change in how we relate to one another and to God. Love is the force that shapes this transformation.

As we reflect on this, we might consider the way in which our own relationships are transformed by love. In the reading from Genesis 45:3-11, 15, we see a powerful image of reconciliation. Joseph, once betrayed by his brothers, now offers them forgiveness. Instead of responding with anger or bitterness, he responds with love, allowing the family to be restored. Here, love is seen as the bridge between brokenness and healing. The act of forgiveness is not just a moral choice; it is a reflection of God’s transformative power in our lives. Joseph’s willingness to forgive is an embodiment of the love that Paul speaks of—love that can bring about a radical transformation in our relationships and in our world.

In Psalm 37, the psalmist also speaks of the connection between love and peace. The passage calls on us not to fret over the wicked, but to trust in the Lord and to "commit our way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act." Here, love is not just a passive feeling but an active trust in God’s care and justice. It is this trust that allows us to love others with the same heart that Joseph and Paul describe. In love, we are free from the need to control or manipulate, knowing that God is already working to bring about peace and healing.

Finally, the reading from Luke 6:27-38 presents the radical call of Jesus to love not just those who love us, but even our enemies. He tells us, "Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you." This teaching, though difficult, is the ultimate expression of the kind of love Paul describes—love that transcends boundaries and human limitations. It is a love that comes from God alone, a love that can change the very nature of our relationships. It is through this love that we can embody the transformation Paul speaks of, putting on the imperishable and living lives that reflect the eternal love of God.

?As we continue our Epiphany journey and approach Lent, may we reflect on the love that transforms us, as individuals and as a community. May the Holy Spirit pour into our hearts the greatest gift of love, so that we may be a living witness to its power to heal, restore, and reconcile. In this love, we are made whole and new.

On this Sixth Sunday after Epiphany, our readings invite us into a powerful reflection on the source of our trust and the consequences of where we place our faith. In Jeremiah 17:5-10 and Psalm 1, we encounter two distinct images: the contrast between those who place their trust in human beings or "mere mortals," and those who put their trust in God. These texts invite us to examine the foundation of our trust and how it shapes our lives.

Jeremiah’s warning in the first reading echoes the psalmist's praise, urging us to recognize the difference between placing our faith in human power versus divine strength. Jeremiah 17:5-6 begins, "Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals and make flesh their strength." These words speak to the fleeting nature of human endeavors—those who trust in their own abilities or the power of others will ultimately wither, like a shrub in a parched desert. The prophet contrasts this with those who trust in God, comparing them to trees planted by water, constantly nourished and strong, even in times of drought. It is a vivid metaphor for the sustenance God provides for those who rely on divine promises over human solutions.

Psalm 1 reinforces this message, contrasting the way of the righteous with the way of the wicked. The righteous are described as trees planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season, while the wicked are like chaff blown away by the wind. The psalmist reminds us that true stability and fruitfulness come from grounding ourselves in God’s law, not from seeking the fleeting, empty promises of the world.

This theme is echoed in our Gospel reading from Luke 6:17-26, where Jesus offers a series of blessings and woes. In this passage, we encounter two different kinds of people—the blessed and the cursed, the poor and the rich, the hungry and the satisfied. The Gospel shifts the perspective of what constitutes true wealth, true satisfaction, and true joy. Jesus calls us to look beyond what the world esteems—material wealth, comfort, and worldly success—and instead to place our trust in God’s promises. To follow Jesus means to embrace the deeper, lasting fulfillment that comes from living in alignment with God’s kingdom, even when this contradicts the logic of worldly values.

But as we reflect on trust and faith, we may wonder how we can anchor ourselves in God when the world so often pulls us in other directions. The Epistle reading from 1 Corinthians 15:12-20 offers an answer, even if it may seem somewhat unrelated. In this passage, Paul reminds the Corinthians that the foundation of Christian hope lies in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. If we place our trust in human reasoning alone, the resurrection appears impossible, absurd, even foolish. But the resurrection of Jesus is the ultimate testimony that, while human logic may fail, God’s power is limitless. This proclamation—that Christ is risen from the dead—shows us the ultimate truth upon which our faith is built. It is the decisive answer to the question of where our trust should lie: not in human logic or worldly powers, but in the life-giving, death-defying power of God.

As we walk through this week, let us consider where we are placing our trust. Are we relying on fleeting human strength, or are we being nourished by the eternal source of God's faithfulness? The resurrection of Jesus reminds us that no matter what the world throws at us, God’s power is greater. He is the one who gives life, and our ultimate trust must rest in Him.

May we, like the tree planted by the water, be rooted and grounded in God’s love, trusting not in the transient, but in the eternal promises of our Savior. And, as we journey toward Lent, Holy Week, and Easter, let us rejoice in the hope of the resurrection, which assures us that God’s promises are true, and that our faith in Him will never be in vain.

In this week's Epistle reading (1 Corinthians 15:1-11), St. Paul reminds the Corinthians of the Gospel he first proclaimed to them: the Good News of Christ’s death and resurrection.

He emphasizes that this message is of "first importance" and that they are saved by it—provided they hold fast to it. St. Paul also speaks of his own unworthiness, calling himself the "least of the apostles" because he once persecuted the Church. Yet, he acknowledges that "by the grace of God I am what I am," testifying that God’s grace not only called him but also transformed him into a relentless laborer for the Gospel.

St. Paul’s encounter with grace echoes the transformative experiences found in this week’s other readings. In Isaiah 6:1-8, the prophet has a vision of God’s majesty. Overwhelmed by his unworthiness, he cries out, "Woe is me!" But when his lips are purified by a burning coal from the altar, he is ready to answer God’s call: "Here am I; send me!"

Similarly, in Luke 5:1-11, [as seen in the artwork above] Peter falls at Jesus’ feet after witnessing the miraculous catch of fish, confessing his sinfulness: "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" However, Jesus responds not with rejection but with a call:

"Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people."

Like Isaiah and Paul, Peter is transformed by an encounter with God’s grace.

These readings remind us that the call to discipleship is never based on our worthiness but on God’s grace. We may feel inadequate or unqualified, but God calls us nonetheless. More than that, He transforms us—giving us new purpose, strength, and the assurance that His grace is sufficient for the task ahead.

As we reflect on these passages, let us ask: Where is God calling us to serve, despite our feelings of inadequacy? How is His grace shaping us into faithful witnesses? Like Isaiah, Paul, and Peter, may we embrace God’s call with trust and gratitude, saying, "Here am I; send me!"

Malachi tells us that the sins of God’s people will be dealt with, and the human-divine relationship will be restored.

This reconciliation, however, is not in our power to achieve. The healing of our relationship with God is totally dependent on the mercy and loving-kindness of God. Our role is to accept God’s refining fire and purifying wash. Like the trauma patient in the emergency room, our self-inflicted wounds must be cauterized and the contaminating debris scrubbed free before healing can proceed. These metaphors make it clear that our reconciliation with God will not be painless — but it will be thorough and eternal if we submit to his treatment.

God will give us every chance to respond to his offer of reconciliation. Since we are so accustomed to the status quo, he will send us someone to announce his coming to cleanse us. Without God’s help, we cannot recognize that we have a problem in our relationship with him, let alone identify the One who comes as our healer. As the answer to our blindness, God sent John the Baptizer to announce the coming of Jesus as our Savior.

The prophecy continued through Simeon and Anna. Jesus was brought into the Temple and the prophets witnessed to his identity as God’s Messiah, the Promised One sent to the Temple for the salvation of his people.

Jesus is the answer to the corruption of the priests and infidelity of the people that Malachi lamented. In his body he purified the Temple and priesthood and also made the perfect sacrifice for the sins of the people. As promised by God, he will bring the offering of reconciliation to us.

The aged Simeon adds that this long-awaited Savior will be the salvation not only of Israel, but also of the Gentiles. In his words are the fulfillment of the promise God made to Abram that Israel would be blessed to be a blessing to the nations. Israel’s glory — her true nature — was in her role as God’s chosen people. That role in the world was to be the revelation of God’s loving-kindness and sovereign nature to the nations so that they would see the goodness of God and seek him. Jesus succeeded where Israel failed — not as an alternative, but as the perfect fulfillment of the sign that was Israel. As all of this took place in the Temple in Jerusalem, the prophetess Anna reminds us that Jesus is at the center of the city of God — the new Jerusalem — and that the nations will be brought into it.

Yet even here at the very beginning of Jesus’ life, the prophecy is that although the offer of salvation is universal, its realization is not. The cleansing and reconciliation will not come without a cost. In the severe mercy of God, we will be cleansed through the blood of Jesus. His destiny is to present a choice to all people, and their answer will determine their eternal well-being. Not only will he be opposed and his offer be rejected, but he will be pierced, as will his mother’s heart and that of all those who believe in him. Each of us must move beyond the nostalgic sepia pictures of the babe in the manger and embrace the harsh reality of the cross if we are to rise with Jesus in the new Jerusalem.

Look It Up: Joshua 24:15

Think About It: God will honor your choice!

From The Living Church by Chuck Alley
The Rev. Dr. Chuck Alley, former rector of St. Matthew’s Church in Richmond, Virginia, teaches anatomy at Virginia Commonwealth University Medical School.

As we reflect on the readings for this Second Sunday after the Epiphany, the words of the Apostle Paul in his First Letter to the Corinthians resonate deeply with us. In these verses, Paul beautifully articulates the diversity of spiritual gifts bestowed upon believers by the Holy Spirit, emphasizing that each gift is essential for the flourishing of the body of Christ.

Paul begins by acknowledging the Corinthians' former life, reminding them that they were once led astray by idols. Yet, in Christ, they have found a new identity and purpose. This transformation is not merely individual but communal, as they are now part of the body of Christ, each member uniquely gifted by the Spirit.

He continues by illustrating the diversity of these gifts, ranging from wisdom and knowledge to faith and healing. No gift is insignificant, for each is given by the same Spirit for the common good. This diversity is not a cause for division but a reason for unity, as together, we form a cohesive body where every part plays a crucial role.

In our Episcopal tradition, we cherish the understanding of unity in diversity. Just as the various parts of the human body work together harmoniously under the direction of the mind, so too are we, the body of Christ, called to work together in unity under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Our differences in gifts, talents, and backgrounds enrich our community, and enable us to more fully reflect the multifaceted grace of God.

Moreover, Paul emphasizes that these gifts are not earned or merited but freely given by God. They are manifestations of God's grace and are meant to be used selflessly for the service of others. Therefore, let us discern our gifts with humility and gratitude, seeking always to employ them in ways that build up the body of Christ and bear witness to God's love in the world.

As we reflect on Paul's words, let us consider how we, individually and communally, are contributing to the unity and mission of our church. Are we embracing our gifts fully and using them for the common good? Are we honoring and respecting the gifts of others, recognizing that each is a valuable part of God's plan?

May this reflection inspire us to celebrate our diversity, to cultivate unity in Christ's Spirit, and to dedicate ourselves anew to serving God and one another with the gifts we have been graciously given.

Let us always thank God for the diverse gifts He has bestowed upon us through the Holy Spirit. May the Holy Spirit help us to embrace these gifts joyfully, to use them wisely, and to work together in unity for the building up of God’s kingdom.

On the First Sunday after the Epiphany, we celebrate the Baptism of Jesus at the Jordan, an event rich with both theological depth and meaning. In Luke’s Gospel, we hear of Jesus coming to the Jordan River, standing in solidarity with those who sought repentance and renewal. After His baptism, the heavens open, and the Spirit descends upon Him like a dove, while a voice declares, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased”. This moment reveals Jesus’ true nature in God as the anointed One, HIs beloved Son, and precedes Jesus’ public ministry.

Yet, as we reflect on this event, another thread in our readings this week invites us to consider the inclusivity of God’s love. In the Book of Acts 8:14-17, Peter and John travel to Samaria after hearing that the Samaritans had accepted the Word of God. These Samaritans had been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus, but the Holy Spirit had not yet come upon them. Peter and John lay hands on them, and they receive the Holy Spirit. This narrative is a powerful witness to the expansive reach of God’s grace. No longer confined to one nation or people, the Holy Spirit is given to all who accept the Word of God, breaking down barriers of division and extending the embrace of divine love to unexpected places and communities.

This inclusion echoes the promises in Isaiah 43:1-7, where God reassures His people, saying, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” The imagery of gathering from the east and west, the north and south, reminds us that God’s saving work spans the entire world. Each person who responds to God’s call becomes part of this beloved family, precious in God’s sight and honored with His love.

Psalm 29 underscores the majesty and power of God’s voice, which thunders over the waters, shakes the wilderness, and strips the forests bare. This same powerful voice also declared Jesus as the Beloved Son at His baptism and calls each of us into the waters of baptism, where we are named as beloved children of God.

Together, these readings remind us that baptism is not merely a ritual; it is an identity. Through water and the Holy Spirit, we are named and claimed as God’s own. The Spirit who descended upon Jesus at the Jordan is the same Spirit given to the Samaritans and to all who come to faith, uniting us in one body, one family. This truth calls us to live with open hearts, welcoming and affirming the dignity of all as beloved children of God.

As we reflect on the Baptism of Jesus, let us also reflect on our own baptismal identity and covenant, and on the ways we are called to embody God’s inclusive love. In a world often fractured by division and exclusion, we are invited to be bearers of the Spirit, proclaiming by word and deed that God’s grace knows no bounds. Let us, like Peter and John, extend the hands of fellowship—even to those whom we might have traditionally considered our antagonists, trusting that the Holy Spirit will complete the work of gathering all people into God’s redeeming love.

The word Epiphany comes from a Greek word which means “manifestation”, “appearance”, or “revelation.” Originally the term was used in ancient culture to describe the appearance or manifestation of a deity to a worshipper. In the Christian context it has come to signify the manifestation of Jesus Christ as the Son of God to the world.

The Feast of the Epiphany marks a pivotal moment in the Christian calendar—a celebration of God’s light breaking forth into the world through the revelation of Jesus Christ. Traditionally, the arrival of the Magi symbolizes the manifestation of Christ not only to Israel but to all nations. This theme of universal inclusion resonates profoundly in this Sunday’s reading from Ephesians 3:1-12, where St. Paul speaks of the mystery of Christ now revealed to the Gentiles.

St. Paul’s words show forth wonder and gratitude. He proclaims that the mystery of Christ, hidden through the ages, has been made known by the Spirit: “Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel”. This revelation emphasizes that God’s salvation is not confined to one nation, tribe, or ethnicity but extends to all humanity. It is a radical affirmation of inclusion, shattering barriers and expanding the boundaries of God’s covenant to embrace the entire world.

The Magi’s journey to Bethlehem prefigures this truth. Their presence, as seekers from distant lands, testifies to the drawing power of Christ’s light. The gifts they bring—gold, frankincense, and myrrh—hint at Jesus’ identity as King, God, and sacrificial Savior, while their homage affirms the universality of his mission. Similarly, St. Paul’s ministry to the Gentiles fulfills the promise of Epiphany, making known the “boundless riches of Christ” and declaring the wisdom of God to all peoples.

This revelation challenges us as the Church to reflect God’s inclusive mission. In our world, where divisions often dominate, we are called to bear witness to the unifying love of Christ. The mystery revealed to St. Paul is the same mystery entrusted to us—that through Christ, all are reconciled into one body. The light of Epiphany shines not only to illumine but also to invite. How do we, as true followers of Christ, embody this invitation? How do we reveal God’s boundless grace to those who feel excluded or unseen?

As we gather to celebrate Epiphany, let us remember that we, too, are bearers of this light. The Church’s mission is to proclaim and live out the truth of Ephesians 3—to make known the manifold wisdom of God in ways that draw others toward Christ. May we, like St. Paul, steward the mystery of Christ with humility and joy, extending God’s love to all, and making visible the unity and hope found in Jesus.

The end of the Christian Year approaches with the celebration of Christ the King this coming Sunday. Those who put the Christian calendar together realized that there is no better way of ending the Ecclesial Year than by proclaiming Jesus Christ our Savior as the King of kings and Lord of lords.

The Book of Revelation closes the collection of Holy Scripture that we know as the Holy Bible, and in it this proclamation of Jesus as the supreme king is at the very beginning of the book. In chapter 1, the writer states, “…from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.”

We follow Christ because we are convinced that there is no other to follow who would do for us what Jesus does. His Way of Love means exactly what the words stand for. By becoming flesh God’s beloved Son emptied Himself of all the heavenly glory that He shared with His Father since before the beginning of creation, and lived as one of us, and even died a shameful and horrible death on a cross that we might have abundant and true life.

Is there a love that surpasses Christ’s love? His love is so great and unconditional that not even the powers of darkness and death were able to retain Him. He is the supreme Lord and King of all human and otherworldly powers. But His kingdom is not shown in violence or oppression of any kind, even if it would be violent suppression of the unjust rulers of the world. Christ’s Kingdom is, in His own words, “not of this world.”

It seems paradoxical to many that the most powerful of all kings cannot simply suppress all evil in the world through His intervention. This has led some to unbelief in His promise to restore all creation to God’s governance of justice, peace, and harmony for all. But Christ’s will and the Father’s will are one. And God created us free from the beginning—even free to make the wrong choices. It is only through our willing turning to God’s Way of Love that the world will be transformed into what God has always meant it to be.

If we declare that Christ is our supreme ruler, then we need to be aware that we are the ones who make up His Kingdom. A kingdom is not made up of a king only. There is a kingdom only when there are people who are under the king’s rule.

Unlike earthly kingdoms or other types of earthly government, though, where most of the time those who govern care little or nothing for those who are governed, and where an elite class usually takes advantage of most of the people, the King we serve is one who is willing to give His own life for us, and wants us to share in His glory at all times.

The task that He gives us, then, has nothing to do with satisfying a ruler’s whimsical demands, but it is the task of putting into practice His Way of Love, in words and deeds, so that others may also become part of His blessed Kingdom of reconciled and true life with His Father and our Father.

As the writer of Revelation puts it, when he refers to Jesus Christ our Lord, “To Him who loves us and freed us from our sins by His blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving His God and Father, to Him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.”

When we think of the Saints, we tend to visualize a rather small number of people with exemplary and extraordinary qualities. Some of them are martyrs of the Christian faith, and others have led lives of ceaseless self-sacrifice and total commitment to following Jesus’ Way of Love. These are the people whom we commemorate in our Christian calendar throughout the year.

It is significant, however, that the writer of the Book of Revelation in chapter 7, using the symbolic and theatrical language which is characteristic of the Apocalyptic genre, when referring to those who “are in the throne of God, and worship Him day and night within His temple”—i.e., the Saints—uses the expression “a large multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes, and peoples and languages.”

Large multitudes are described in the Bible in different ways. Sometimes the writer uses multiples of 12 in thousands, as in the case of this same passage, just a few verses before, when the number of those sealed from the tribes of Israel is 144,000. Other times the writers use figures like 5,000 or 4,000, as in the case of the feeding of the multitude by Jesus.

The expression “that no one can count”, or one with a similar meaning, is used to refer to extremely large numbers, as when God asks Abraham to attempt to count the stars, and then tells him that the number of his descendants would be as numerous.

Such an expression obviously refers to a multitude that we would normally describe as “innumerable”. Hence we can conclude that in the writer’s vision the number of the Saints is large indeed. Not only large, but greatly diverse, encompassing every nation, tribe, and language of the world known to him at that time.

Should we infer, then, that the writer of Revelation simply means that every single soul on the planet will be part of the Saints? Not in the least.

When asked by one of the “elders”—those who sit closer to God’s throne in the vision—who these people were, the writer replied, “Sir, you are the one who knows”, and then the elder explained, “these are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”

The Book of Revelation was written at a time of great persecution of Jesus’ followers. It was then common to suffer harassment, imprisonment, and even death on account of the Christian faith. The writer of Revelation himself was in exile due to his faith. So when he uses the expression “the great ordeal” his readers know really well what he is referring to.

“Having washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb” does not necessarily mean they have all suffered martyrdom, although several of them may have, but that they have been steadfast in their following of the Lord Jesus Christ, in words and deeds, in the midst of whatever circumstances they have had to face. The blood of the Lamb makes reference to Christ’s self-sacrifice on the cross for all, which is given to His followers as a graceful gift that enables them to be saved from the enslaving power of sin and death, and be counted among those who will share in Christ’s glory.

So the Saints, those who “will hunger no more, and thirst no more”, whom “the sun will not strike, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and He will guide them to springs of the water of life”, and whose every tear “God will wipe away from their eyes” will be innumerable indeed, and will come from every corner of the earth.

But to share in God’s glorified life in Christ is only for those who willingly accept the gift, cherish it, and steadfastly embrace it with all their being. May we be part of those who cannot be counted.

In absolute terms, only God can be perfect. By this we Christians mean that only our Heavenly Father, the Creator of all that is—together with the other two Persons of the Holy Trinity—holds the attribution of a goodness that cannot be surpassed.

How come, then, that Jesus, St. Paul, and also the writer of Hebrews encourage us as followers of Christ to move towards perfection?

In Matthew 5:48 Jesus says to His disciples, “be perfect as your Father in Heaven is perfect.” Was Jesus being unrealistic when He said this?

We need to take take a closer look at what words actually mean before jumping to conclusions. Both the Hebrew and the Greek terms used in the Bible that have been translated as “perfect” actually mean “whole, totally evolved, mature, full of righteousness.” So to have a perfect heart in the Old Testament means to have a heart that is undivided and faithful to God, to have a righteous heart.

Both St. Paul and the writer of Hebrews use the terms “perfect” and “perfection” in their exhortations to the new converts to the New Way. They understand human weakness because they experience it in themselves, but at the same time they realize that only by aiming at becoming more Christ-like, the followers of Jesus’ Way of Love will mature in their faith.

Aiming at perfection for Christ’s followers is, then, going beyond mere repentance from dead works and having some faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, as the writer of Hebrews clearly states in the 5th and 6th chapters of his letter. He encourages his addressees “to go on toward perfection, leaving behind the basic teachings about Christ.”

By “leaving behind” he by no means implies abandoning the basic teachings because these are the foundation, but moving beyond them to a greater degree of maturity.

In a way the writer of Hebrews sounds a bit reproachful or perhaps disappointed when he says, “for though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic elements of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food…But solid food is for the mature, for those whose faculties have been trained by practice to distinguish good from evil.”

In these words, it is easy to notice how the writer of Hebrews connects the idea of perfection to that of righteousness. Perfection in absolute terms is unattainable in this mortal life, but striving towards righteousness by practicing Jesus’ Way of Love is certainly a must for all of His followers.

The writer of Hebrews must have realized that he had been harsh on his readers, for he later on changes his reproachful tone when he writes, “Even though we speak in this way, beloved, we are confident of better things in your case, things that belong to salvation. For God is not unjust; He will not overlook your work and the love that you showed for His sake in serving the saints, as you still do.” And he finishes this part of the letter with an exhortation that is as pertinent for us today as it was for his readers then: “And we want each of you to show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope to the very end.”

So aiming for perfection in our faith should always be our goal, clearly understanding that there is no false pretentiousness involved, but an ardent and ceaseless urge to become faithfully mature and righteous in following our Lord.

Fr.Carlos is out of town this week, so we suggest this Living Church Covent article:

By: Christopher Yoder
Posted on: September 26, 2024
Titled: "The Appetite for God in the Psalms"

Click here to link to the article.

We humans being God’s house seems like a strange claim to make, but this is literally what the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews says in chapter 3.

We are more used to the idea of being let in His house, as Jesus says in John’s Gospel, when He states, “in my Father’s House are many rooms.” I am sure a great number of people are familiar with this passage, which is often used in funeral services.

Henri Nouwen, the well-known Dutch priest and writer of books on spirituality, said that we humans either live in the House of Fear—when we live a self-centered life, thus isolating ourselves from our Creator and from one another—or we live in the House of Love (God’s House), when we are in harmony with God’s purposeful loving life for all.

We could also say that most of us spend our lives in an in-between state, sometimes living in one or the other House, until we are finally ready to move permanently into God’s House.

The idea of moving into God’s House has often been associated with our passing to a new life dimension after death. However, this change of habitation can already take place while we are in our human bodies, and death does not necessarily imply that our true being is immediately transformed and is ready to inhabit God’s House of Love.

Christianity is, above all, an incarnational faith. It starts with the firm conviction that Jesus Christ, whom we willingly follow, is God become flesh. This is stated at the very beginning of John’s Gospel: “and the Word became flesh, and lived among us…”

Jesus Christ’s main mission on earth was a reconciling one. He came to remind us who we really are in God’s true being, as His sons and daughters. In other words, Jesus’ true identity points our true identity in God to us.

Just as Jesus Christ incarnates God in His person, and thus becomes God’s House for us all, we are called—as Christ’s authentic followers—to become God’s House in this world.

When the Church is called God’s House there is an implicit truth in the phrase. At a simpler level of understanding, people think of churches as the places where God’s presence becomes more easily perceived, just as the Jews thought of the Temple in Jerusalem as the place where God inhabited.

However, the true meaning of Church as the assembly of the saints gives us a truer and deeper meaning of this phrase. We are in fact God’s House. We, as true followers of Him who incarnates God perfectly, are also meant to live in such a way that God’s love for all becomes our way of life.

In the words of the writer of Hebrews, “Christ…was faithful over God’s House as a son, and we are His house if we hold firm the confidence and the pride that belong to hope.”

Fr.Carlos is out of town this week, so we suggest this Living Church Covent article:

By: Christopher Yoder
Posted on: September 26, 2024
Titled: "The Appetite for God in the Psalms"

Click here to link to the article.

We humans being God’s house seems like a strange claim to make, but this is literally what the writer of the Letter to the Hebrews says in chapter 3.

We are more used to the idea of being let in His house, as Jesus says in John’s Gospel, when He states, “in my Father’s House are many rooms.” I am sure a great number of people are familiar with this passage, which is often used in funeral services.

Henri Nouwen, the well-known Dutch priest and writer of books on spirituality, said that we humans either live in the House of Fear—when we live a self-centered life, thus isolating ourselves from our Creator and from one another—or we live in the House of Love (God’s House), when we are in harmony with God’s purposeful loving life for all.

We could also say that most of us spend our lives in an in-between state, sometimes living in one or the other House, until we are finally ready to move permanently into God’s House.

The idea of moving into God’s House has often been associated with our passing to a new life dimension after death. However, this change of habitation can already take place while we are in our human bodies, and death does not necessarily imply that our true being is immediately transformed and is ready to inhabit God’s House of Love.

Christianity is, above all, an incarnational faith. It starts with the firm conviction that Jesus Christ, whom we willingly follow, is God become flesh. This is stated at the very beginning of John’s Gospel: “and the Word became flesh, and lived among us…”

Jesus Christ’s main mission on earth was a reconciling one. He came to remind us who we really are in God’s true being, as His sons and daughters. In other words, Jesus’ true identity points our true identity in God to us.

Just as Jesus Christ incarnates God in His person, and thus becomes God’s House for us all, we are called—as Christ’s authentic followers—to become God’s House in this world.

When the Church is called God’s House there is an implicit truth in the phrase. At a simpler level of understanding, people think of churches as the places where God’s presence becomes more easily perceived, just as the Jews thought of the Temple in Jerusalem as the place where God inhabited.

However, the true meaning of Church as the assembly of the saints gives us a truer and deeper meaning of this phrase. We are in fact God’s House. We, as true followers of Him who incarnates God perfectly, are also meant to live in such a way that God’s love for all becomes our way of life.

In the words of the writer of Hebrews, “Christ…was faithful over God’s House as a son, and we are His house if we hold firm the confidence and the pride that belong to hope.”

From “Secret Faults,” The Love and Wisdom of God (1883)

There is no crime laid against Dives, the rich man who lifted up his eyes without hope in the other world, except ease and neglect of the poor. Not great and notorious sinners but those who had neglected in this life to visit the sick and clothe the naked and feed the poor are chosen as the types of those who will be placed on the left hand and go into everlasting punishment.

It is the gentleness, the calmness, the moderation, the exact equity of these charges which make them so terrible. We may be free from great and overt crimes, free from the dominion of presumptuous sins, and yet fall under condemnation. It was the consciousness of this exact equity of God’s judgments which caused the double prayer of the Psalmist of which the text forms a part, ” Keep thy servant from presumptuous sins,” and “who can tell how oft he offendeth? O cleanse Thou me from my secret faults.”

There are some sins so secret that they almost cease to be capable of being called sins, because we do not any longer perceive them — those sins which our former sins have now prevented us from perceiving or feeling to be sinful; that heaviness of ear and blindness of eye which prevents the heart from understanding and being converted and healed; a dullness to spiritual truth which now perhaps from its very nature mercifully diminishes the guilt of each half-conscious act, but a dullness, a deafness, a blindness which need never have been and for which we are responsible. For these our now almost unconscious offences we need at least to be humble and to ask for pardon; for we have reason to fear that during the past year there may have been many heavenly voices whispering around us which we have not been quick enough to catch; many things our eyes might have seen that should have been to us messengers from a higher world to be interpreted as in dictations of our heavenly Father’s will, had our eyes been lighted with the fire of true wakeful, watchful love; intended to remind us whence we are and whither we are going. But we have missed them, and at the close of another year we fear that the ear has not heard, nor the eye seen, nor the heart understood as fully as it might, had we been what God intended we should be.

From these my secret sins, then, the sins which are unknown to me because of my former sins, do Thou, O God, who knowest what I might have been, before another year begins, cleanse me and set me free.

Edward King (1829-1910) was one of the great leaders of late nineteenth century Anglo-Catholicism, widely admired for his courage and personal holiness. He was Regius Professor of Moral Theology at Oxford and played a key role in the founding of St. Stephen’s House, Oxford. He became Bishop of Lincoln in 1889, serving until his death. “Secret Faults” was preached before the University of Oxford on the Sunday before Advent, 1883. King is commemorated on the calendar of the Church of England on March 8.

Those of us who have familiarity with the Bible probably know the expression “the wisdom from above.” The image we get when we hear or read such a phrase may vary according to our personal perceptions, but it is likely that we interpret the phrase as depicting some kind of tremendous special wisdom or illumination coming down from the heavenly places to just a few elect illuminated human beings whom God considers worthy to receive it.

Among these elect ones, we probably include some saints and mystics, who spend most of their time in deep meditation and contemplation until, one day, the heavens are opened—as it happened during Christ’s Baptism at the Jordan—and they receive their ultimate illumination.

All this may be true in some cases, but as I was rereading James’ Letter, chapter 3, I found a much more plausible—and accessible— depiction of what the wisdom from above means.

In fact, in biblical terms, the words above, and heaven are used to refer to the place where God abides, as opposed to the earth. When people looked up and saw the majesty and infinity of the heavens, it was only natural for them to believe that the Creator would dwell somewhere above the earth.

The wisdom from above, then, is simply God’s wisdom, as opposed to common human knowledge, which can be a reflection of this wisdom, but is not always used for purposes which align with God’s love and will.

We have been naturally endowed with the ability to reason, and it is God’s intention that we use our reasoning for purposes which align with His loving purpose for His creatures. The more we imitate God’s unconditional love in our lives, the more the wisdom from above will become a natural part of our mindsets.

As the Book of Wisdom itself points out, “the ungodly”—that is, those who do not have God in their hearts and lives — “by their words and deeds summoned death; considering him (death) as a friend, they pined away and made a covenant with him (death), because they are fit to belong to his company. For they reasoned unsoundly.”

In other words, though ungodly people can use their reasoning, because God has endowed us all with this faculty, when we are led by selfish ambition instead of God’s Way of Love, we reason unsoundly, and the end of this road is destruction and real death—separation form God’s Way.

James in his letter uses a similar image, in chapter 3, verse 16, when he says, “Where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind.” And then he goes on to depict the wisdom from above, saying that it is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality of hypocrisy.”

Notice the attributes that James uses to refer to the wisdom from above. There is nothing otherworldly about it, really. It is not described as a sudden flash of light which only a few elect are granted. It is, on the contrary, something that can be cultivated with true humbleness and openness to God’s grace, because it is though His grace only that we will reflect it in our own lives.

As James himself says at the end of this section in the letter, “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

For Christians faith is not simply a belief or an opinion. It is not even a proclamation of what one believes, as in the case of a Creed. It is a deep conviction of what is not immediately perceived by the senses, but even more than all this, it is a concrete way of living.

Faith in Jesus Christ Our Lord is what moves us Christians, day by day, to read and study Holy Scriptures prayerfully, to meditate on what God’s Word means for us at each and every moment, to pray that the Holy Spirit gives us discernment to make vital decisions in our lives that are aligned with God’s will, and to follow Jesus’ Way of Love in our thoughts, intentions, and actions, so that our lives may be filled with the genuine joy of serving Him.

It is this faith that serves as a shield against the forces that oppose God’s unconditional love in the world. To think that we can be saved from these forces by our own efforts only is foolishness. Only by being filled with God’s Spirit of Truth, and with the mind of Christ, can we counteract our self-centered tendencies, which, if left unchecked, will turn us into selfish and ambitious people, serving only our own interests, without concern for the rest of humanity and God’s creation.

In his letters, St. Paul always insisted that no good works of ours by themselves can save us. We should never do good works thinking that God will reward us, or so that others may see them, and give us praise and recognition. Jesus was always clear in this respect. St. Paul insists on how salvation comes through faith only, and he is right to do so.

St. James has been criticized because in his letter proclaims that faith without works is dead. What St. James actually means is that saying that you have faith alone, and not acting accordingly, will save no one.

The examples he gives in the second chapter of his letter are quite clear. First, he refers to those who show favoritism in the congregations towards those who possess more wealth or wear finer clothes. Even if those people confess their faith in Jesus Christ out loud, their behavior clearly shows they are not real followers of Jesus’ Way.

Then he refers to those who say they have faith but do not do anything to help the hungry and the needy. What kind of faith is this that is only on one’s lips but gives no real fruit in one’s life?

Real authentic faith in Jesus Christ will always produce the fruits of compassion and willingness to help those who are in need. This is what St. James wants to stress in his letter.

There is no real contradiction between Paul’s claim that only faith saves, and James’ assertion that faith without works is dead. A faith that produces no fruits is not real, it is only feigned. Real faith will never fail to produce the fruits of compassion and loving service in our lives.

One of the diseases which causes the greatest pain in our generation is memory loss due to Alzheimer’s or other conditions that affect mostly (but not exclusively) those of an advanced age. It causes great pain to those who suffer from it, because they lose connection with reality, and with the people whom they love, and who love them. It causes also great pain to those who love them, because they can no longer relate to them in a reciprocal way.

Our identity—who we are—is the most valuable thing we will ever possess. But, who are we really?

This question has been the subject of much philosophical and religious discussion throughout the centuries. For Christians—and also for those who believe what Genesis 1 and 2 proclaim—we are God’s image and likeness. According to the First Book of the Bible, this is what God created us to be.

Then, of course, we know the story of man’s fall, and how this image has been stained. But a stained image is an image nonetheless, and can be restored to its pristine nature.

God’s plan for us includes this cleansing and restoration. The prophets constantly called God’s people to turn back to God, to live their lives in such a way that they would reflect God’s loving image, and other peoples would turn to God as well.

In the fullness of time, God became incarnate in Jesus Christ Our Lord, so that we might know Him as the human image and likeness that we have always been meant to be. In His words and deeds, Jesus taught us His Way of Love, so that we were reminded of who we are, as living images of our all-loving God.

The fact that our true identity is in God, however, should not be confused with any kind of false pretense to be a god. In reality, nothing can be more far from God’s true image than a sense of false pride and self sufficiency. God’s real essence is self-giving. He cannot help giving Himself in love, as He showed us through His incarnate Son, who died an unjust death on a cross for the sake of unconditional love.

In chapter 1 of his letter, James warns the converts to the New Way about the dangers of anger and wickedness, which are usually the tokens of a haughty soul. He writes, “let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger, for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness. Therefore, rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted Word that has the power to save your souls.”

Then James insists of the need to be doers, and not simply hearers of God’s true Word. He compares the mere hearers of the Word to those who look at themselves in the mirror, and on going away, immediately forget what they were like.

This is an interesting image, for what we see in a mirror is our likeness, our image, and when we forget it, it is as if we forgot who we really are. This interpretation is personal, and I have to admit that some may consider it far-fetched, but I am tempted to think it is not so far from what James might have had in mind.

The fact is that if we simply hear God’s Word and do not incarnate this Word in our daily living, we are not being true to our real identity in God.

James clearly said in his letter, “Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world.”

Let us be doers and not mere hearers of God’s Word. Let us never forget who we really are.

That prayer is an integral part of a true Christian’s life goes without saying. Starting with Jesus Himself, and then St. Paul, St. Peter and all the Apostles, and the first followers of Jesus’ Way, the insistence on constant and persevering prayer was overwhelming, but much needed.

Prayer is not exclusive to the Christian Faith, and we all know this. What characterizes Christian prayer, though, is that is addressed to the Creator of All That Is, through Jesus Christ Our Lord, in the power of The Holy Spirit.

Apart from this essential Trinitarian character of Christian prayer—which can also be understood when only one of the persons of the Trinity is mentioned in our prayers—St. Paul is insistent on the need to always pray in God’s Holy Spirit, and to keep alert for the evil forces that govern our world.

But what does praying in God’s Spirit imply?

It may be hard for us to discern when our prayers are really aligned with God’s Spirit of Truth, Peace, and Love, but a few hints here and there may help us along the way.

First of all, we need to be aware that the Creator of the Universe we Christians address in our prayers is the epitome of unconditional, self-giving love, which was clearly shown to us humans in His incarnate Son, Jesus Christ Our Lord. In this respect, if our prayers are to be in tune with His Spirit, they must not be selfishly centered, even if it legitimate to ask for our personal needs.

Another important aspect to consider is how our prayers align with Holy Scripture. If we believe that the Bible is God’s inspired book, and shows forth God’s loving intentions for humankind, our prayers should not contradict what Holy Scripture states.

Prayer can give us the strength we need to face the powers of darkness and evil, if it is aligned with God’s loving will. Our prayers must always start from a place of humbleness, recognizing our offenses to God and to others, and asking God for forgiveness in a spirit of true repentance.

We need to acknowledge that the true strength comes from God, and not from ourselves. It is His strength in the power of His Spirit that enables us to triumph in the face of evil forces. It is a fact that evil can only be defeated by God’s unconditional love, even though we may be tempted to fight evil with human forces.

In his Letter to the Ephesians, in chapter 6, St. Paul makes a well-known comparison between the parts of a Roman soldier’s armor and what we—as Christ’s followers—must be spiritually dressed with to defeat all evil powers. The components of such armor are truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and God’s Spirit. With such an armor, the forces of evil are useless against the power that comes from above and acts through us.

We may not be willing to talk about evil and the forces of darkness. A continuous mental and verbal dwelling on these topics is not to be encouraged. However, as St. Paul himself warns, it is necessary to be aware of their existence, and be ready, through constant prayer in God’s true Spirit, to stand against their wiling and deceptive nature.

As St. Paul did in this letter, even when we are facing personal hardships—and not often shall we face imprisonment as he did—our priority must be to ask others—in all humbleness—to pray for us, so that we may always declare the truths of the Gospel of Salvation as we must.

Modern interpretation of subjection almost always leads us to think of it as something to be despised and rejected—something to get rid of. If subjection implies a relationship in which one part subjugates the other for its own interests, without taking into account the other part’s wellbeing, it is certainly something to be ended.

However, the way subjection was conceived by St. Paul in his Letter to the Ephesians is a different matter altogether.

In the fifth chapter of this letter the Apostle Paul encourages all believers to be subject to one another. Obviously here there is no way we could interpret this subjection as subjugation, since all are seen as equal in this respect. What the phrase means here is to regard others as one regards oneself, serving them in a loving and caring way.

But then St. Paul proceeds to refer to the way wives must be subject to husbands, and this part has been the theme of much controversy, particularly in recent times. It is true that the way St. Paul puts it may sound like he is instructing wives to obey their husbands in every instance, no matter what.

To modern eyes and ears this obviously seems inappropriate. However, in the next paragraph the Apostle Paul instructs husbands to love their wives in the same manner that Christ loved the church and gave Himself for her. What St. Paul is asking husbands to do here is paramount to self-giving, sacrificial love. He even says, “He who loves his wife loves himself.”

And later on he makes reference to the Genesis passage that commands a man “to leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.”

St. Paul sees this as “a great mystery”, which he says he is “applying to Christ and the church.” So he compares the union between the two members of the married couple to the union of Christ and his church, which means that the way these two people are united must reflect the self-giving sacrificial love that Christ showed for His people.

It has never been a good idea—and will never be—to apply the moral standards of one epoch to previous ones. There is no denying that the society St. Paul lived in was patriarchal, and this is reflected in all his writings.

Even so, the way he balances the subjection of the wives to their husbands with the love that husbands are required to have for their wives is remarkable for his time.

In no way was he thinking of a type of abusive or unfair subjection. The fact that all this part about the relationship between husband and wife is preceded by the phrase, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ” should not be overlooked. The kind of subjection he means here is a loving and caring one, equally valid for all believers.

God made us free, in His own image and likeness. Freedom is intrinsic to our human nature. However, responsible and willing subjection to one another for the sake of love and respect does not contradict this freedom, but takes it to a higher level.

Christ Himself was subject to God, and fulfilled God’s will even when it meant a cruel and undeserved death on a cross. By being subject to one another in love, we then imitate Christ, and His love abides in us.

For present-day people in the western world wisdom is an abstraction. It is a concept that comprises all that is wise and leads to rightful decisions in the world. Being wise is often associated with making decisions based on right discernment, which are ethically proper. Cleverness, on the other hand, simply refers to using your intelligence in a profitable way, whether the actions that follow are ethically proper or not.

In the Book of Proverbs, and also in the Book of Wisdom of Solomon, we find the figure of wisdom in a personified way. The Hebrews were not prone to abstractions, and some scholars point to the fact that there may have been an influence both from the Egyptian and the Greek mythologies—in which wisdom is a goddess—although some others explain this by the fact that the word wisdom in Hebrew is feminine (there is no neuter gender in Hebrew), and hence its personification as a woman.

The fact is that theologians have considered that this personified wisdom, which the Book of Proverbs states as begotten by God, even before the earth was created, may be seen as a prefiguration of Christ, as God’s Incarnate Word.

Jesus was undoubtedly familiar with the Hebrew Scriptures, and although this is just speculation, He might have thought about the passage from Proverbs 9, when He spoke about Himself as the true bread of life that confers everlasting life:

“Come, eat of my bread and drink of the wine I have mixed. Lay aside immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of insight.”

The image He used in the last supper with His disciples, in which He insists that they should eat His flesh and drink His blood, also points back to this passage from Proverbs, in which Wisdom invites everyone to consume her, so that they might live.

It would not have been hard for Jesus to identify Himself with God’s true wisdom, since He always insisted that His mission was to do God’s will, and to reconcile people to God and to one another according to His Father’s will.

True wisdom is always inspired by God’s Holy Spirit, and its fruits are righteousness and peace. Only when we are guided by the wisdom that comes from above, will our lives reflect God’s true image, and we will experience His life-giving love in our lives.

St. Paul also clearly understood the great importance of following God’s wisdom in our lives, if we are to be true follower’s of Christ’s Way. In his Letter to the Ephesians, chapter 5, he admonishes the converts with these words, “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.”

The present-day world with its globalized information network is full of different teachings and opinions, readily available for everyone, but as Christ’s true followers we must beware and stick to the true wisdom that comes from above, the one we find in Holy Scripture, and is corroborated by the Holy Spirit working within us, and among us in the church—the Assembly of the Saints. This is the bread and the wine that Wisdom invites us to eat and drink, just as Christ Himself wants us to eat His flesh and blood in the Eucharist, and thus be filled with His true and abundant life.

Imitating God may sound like a presumptuous phrase, given that we humans are mortal and limited creatures, and the Creator of all that is, cannot be grasped by the human mind."

As Christians, however, we have Jesus Christ our Lord as the perfect human image of God, and the imitation of His person has always been the main goal of the faithful throughout the centuries.

When we think of imitating Christ, we may feel inadequate and hopeless at times, since we know through the reading of the New Testament that He is the epitome of self-giving love, to the point of self-sacrifice.

Our human nature undoubtedly reflects God’s image in the expression of human love in its purest forms, but it is also tainted by self-centeredness, which is often the polarization of our natural animal self-preservation instincts.

We may wonder why these conflicting tendencies are in constant struggle within ourselves, and St. Paul himself reflected on this in his Letter to the Romans, where he writes, “For the good that I want, I do not do, but I practice the very evil that I do not want.”

The fact is our human nature, though reflecting God’s image, still does it imperfectly, and by our own efforts only we cannot overcome the tendencies to serve our selfish interests over our neighbor’s well-being.

It is only when we are filled by God’s and Christ’s Holy Spirit of self-giving love that we can overcome these tendencies and become better imitators of God. This can only be achieved if we are willing to let our lives be transformed by Christ’s love.

God created us as free beings, and freedom implies making decisions responsibly. When we freely and willingly embrace Christ’s Gospel of Salvation, we are making the first step towards our transformation (or transfiguration) into a closer image of God.

This is what the New Testament refers to as “believing”. We must understand that for the Christian faith, believing is not a matter of opinion or intellectual acrobatics. It is, above all, a matter of true and deep conviction that leads to a totally transformed way of living.

It is like a 180 degree turn of your lives back to where it should always have been: the imitation of God’s self-giving love for all. It is a radical change that turns our lives away from our self-centeredness towards an ever-growing legitimate love for our neighbors, which manifests in loving care and service for everyone, and for the whole creation, as the main token of our lives.

After all, we do have Jesus Christ as the example to follow, and although we may find it hard at first, as in all things, perseverance and practice, together with constant prayer that God’s Spirit may fill us and help us, will eventually lead us to the new life in Christ.

As St. Paul himself puts it in his Letter to the Ephesians, chapter 4, “Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”

From “Bread from Heaven,” The Pastoral Sermons, 335-337 (1960).



It is a curious point about our Lord’s teaching, or about that part of it at any rate which has been preserved for us by Saint John, that he is always treating the things of earth, the material things of sense which are familiar to us, as unreal, as mere shadows and appearances, while the true realities, of which these earthly things are but copies, are in heaven. It is our habit to think the other way; to assume that our own flesh and blood, our food and drink and all the comforts we enjoy, are solid realities; heaven is something distant and shadowy — we believe that we shall be happy if we attain to it, but we cannot imagine how, because it all seems so remote from this world of our experience. …

And so it is with this great chapter of Saint John, the 6th chapter, in which after the miracle of the five thousand, our Lord talks to his disciples about the manner which was sent to the Israelites in the wilderness. “Thou didst give them bread from heaven,” the Psalmist wrote, thinking of that wonderful morning in the desert when the hosts of Israel awoke from sleep to find the earth around them white, as with dew, with the strange food that was to be the strengthening of their pilgrimage. But that wasn’t really bread from heaven, our Lord says; not the true bread from heaven. And even your experience just now, he implies, when the five loaves were miraculously multiplied so as to satisfy five thousand hungry men — that was not real bread I gave you, not the true bread. I am the bread of life. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. My flesh is real meat; my blood is really drink. All the most palatable food which can tempt your earthly appetites is only a sham, a shadow, a copy of the true bread, mysteriously to be communicated to my faithful followers, which is myself. And once again, not till we reach heaven and understand there what it was that the sacrament of Holy Eucharist has been doing for us all the time, building up our spiritual strength and satisfying our spiritual needs, shall we begin to understand that ordinary process, so familiar in common life, by which the foods food we eat builds up and strengthens our material bodies.

Let me put it this way so as to make my point clear. We think of God, don’t we, as first of all designing bread for our use, and then when he came to earth, instituting the Blessed Sacrament under the form of bread so as to remind us of our earthly food? But that wasn’t really how it happened. Before he made the world, almighty God for saw the need for the Incarnation, and decreed the institution of the Holy Eucharist for the benefit of our souls. And he gave us bread, the common bread we eat, to prepare the way for the Holy Eucharist, to be like the Holy Eucharist, to remind us of the Holy Eucharist when it came. Whenever we eat bread, if we really want to see things as they are, we ought to be reminded of the Blessed Sacrament.

Ronald Knox (1888-1957) was an English Roman Catholic priest, theologian, and fiction writer, one of the most influential figures in mid-twentieth century English Catholicism. Originally an Anglican priest, he was the Roman Catholic chaplain at Oxford for many years, and became a well-known apologist, preacher, and writer of detective fiction. This sermon was published in a posthumous collection.

Fr. Carlos E. Expósito, Rector, is on vacation.

Setting up small goals for ourselves will never take us far. As much as we may think that it is more realistic to aim low, and then try to aim higher in a gradual way, the fact is that only those who set higher goals in their lives ever make any relevant achievements. Setting up a high goal does not mean we will achieve it right away though. It may take years, or even a lifetime, depending on what the goal is, but every step we make towards it will feel like we have gotten closer.

As followers of Jesus Christ, we have the greatest and most relevant goal to pursue in our lives, and beyond our limited time on earth. This goal is both personal and communal, because as members of Christ’s body—the Church—we can never be content with our personal spiritual growth only. In fact, true spiritual growth is never self-centered, but precisely the opposite of self-centeredness.

As Jesus Christ Himself showed with His teachings and life, it is only through self-giving love, through authentic loving service and sharing of our time and talents with the rest, that we get closer to real communion with our Creator.

Our natural human tendencies are not selfless by default. Real universal love must gradually and often painstakingly be cultivated and grown in our lives. It is only through God’s grace and the power of His Holy Spirit that we will gradually deprive ourselves of the old egotistic self, and begin to live a love-giving life in Christ.

The way that Christ’s Spirit manifests in our lives is unique, according to what He gives each of us to manifest. We can see how in every Christian community there are people with different talents and gifts, which is the greatest of all blessings, because it is precisely this variety which yields the most wonderful communal results.

Variety is the greatest richness of God’s creation, and unity in Christ’s Spirit is not meant to produce uniformity, but a joint endeavor of varied manifestations that will serve the common ultimate goal: the manifestation of God’s boundless love—what we call God’s Kingdom— in our personal and communal lives.

As the Apostle Paul masterfully put it in his Letter to the Ephesians, the gifts the Spirit has given us are meant “to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for binding up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.”

May we pursue, with true humility, but with constancy and perseverance, this great goal in our lives, that as Christ’s body, “joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped—as St. Paul also states in the same letter—as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.”

Having come to this country from Cuba seven years ago, I have the experience of what it feels like to be a stranger in a new land, although in my particular case I cannot say I have ever felt rejected or unwelcome.

The Jews thought of themselves as “God’s chosen people”, and the heathen people who surrounded their nations were seen by them as “godless”. They were aware that God had chosen them to bring real salvation to the whole world, but the only way this would happen was if the aliens were converted to Judaism.

When Jesus’ movement started, the first converts were Jews or Jewish proselytes, of course. It was only after some non-Jewish people in Antioch received Jesus’ Way, and converted, that the idea of accepting non-Jewish people as Christ’s followers arose. In fact, this was quite controversial at first, and St. Paul had a lot to do with defending this position, and spreading Jesus’ Way among the Gentiles.

The Gentiles—the non-Jewish people—were not familiar with God’s covenants with the Jewish people, or with Holy Scripture. Jesus Himself was a Jew, and His teachings and practices were based on His cultural and religious background. Although He did have a universal sense of His mission, and commissioned His followers to go out to “all the nations of the world”, He Himself had declared that He had first been sent to “the House of Israel.”

Though the Gentile converts felt that Jesus’ message of salvation spoke to them, they could not help feeling that there were things that felt “alien” to them. The world they lived in was in stark contrast with what Jesus proclaimed. Even for the Jews, Jesus’ proclamation was counter cultural. How much more so for the Gentiles!

In addition to this contrast, the acceptance by the Jewish Christians of the Gentile converts was slow and troublesome. They were at first rejected by some Jewish Christians or forced to conform to the Jewish customs and laws.

St. Paul was the great Apostle of the Gentiles. He spread Christ’s message of salvation to a great part of the Gentile world. Being a Jew himself, he had to struggle with some of his own customs and traditions, and embrace Jesus’ Way of Love as his first and foremost rule of life. He also presented Jesus’ message in such a way that the Gentiles no longer felt this was an “alien” message to them. They had to feel that were equally loved and accepted by God and His beloved Son, Jesus Christ.

His proclamation was so effective that the Gentile converts soon exceeded the Jewish ones, and the main reason for this was his conviction that what really mattered was not the external marks or customs, but the faith that Jesus’ Way of Love was the way to real and abundant life.

Jesus’ Way is now a universal faith, and has been accepted by people with diverse cultural backgrounds. The ways people worship in Christian communities throughout the world may differ in language, type of music, and other cultural manifestations, but the essence is always the same: Christ’s Good News of salvation for all humankind. No matter where you come from, if you are Christ’s follower you will never feel as an “alien” in an authentic Christian community anywhere in the world.

Christ’s universal language of acceptance and love is the same everywhere we go. As a member of God’s universal family, we are all God’s children, and as St. Paul put it in his Letter to the Ephesians, “so then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Himself as the cornerstone.”

In this world of ours—and in past centuries too—the notion of peace is usually associated with compromise and the acceptance of a certain degree of injustice by those who are ruled by others. Although modern society tends to consider this as a feature of tyrannical societies only, the fact is that even in democratic societies some degree of unrighteousness for some parts of the society is implicitly taken for granted—though not explicitly expressed by the laws.

This usually leads to restlessness and even upheavals in some sectors of society, and it can lead to civil wars, or even wars between nations when a whole nation feels it is being oppressed by another.

Empires in the past, as in the case of the Roman Empire, promised their subjugated nations “peace”, in exchange for their agreeing to pay taxes and be politically subject to them. They even promised to defend them from the attack of other nations outside the Empire.

Some nations agreed to this kind of compromise, not because it was to their liking, but because they saw no other way to survive against a powerful Empire. Such was the case of Israel during the Roman occupation.

But peace without righteousness is not real. It is just apparent, and can only be tolerated for some time. This is not the peace Jesus spoke about, nor the peace the prophets and Old Testament writers referred to.

Jesus used the equivalent of the word peace (shalom in his language) a lot. This was a common way of greeting among his contemporaries and fellow countrymen. What this word meant, however, was much more than the simple absence of conflict or violence. It meant all good things, a state of wellbeing.

And Jesus also spoke to His disciples about the peace “that passes all understanding.” This was not just a state of wellbeing related to external circumstances, but a deep inner state that depended on the assuredness of God’s presence only, no matter how contrary to eternal peace the circumstances might be.

Real peace can only exist in the presence of true righteousness. And righteousness is so much more than simply living according to the established laws. It means living in God’s truth, and this truth can only exist if mercy abounds.

When Old Testament prophets spoke about righteousness, they were not thinking about some stiff and strict way of living, but about a community where the rulers and the ruled lived in such a way that the needs of others were always taken into account, and those who were in more unfavorable conditions were helped by those who had more.

This is what being righteous and having fear of God really meant for the prophets and those who heeded them. For the people of Israel the rulers were always subordinate to God and His true prophets, and for that reason when a prophet prophesied against an unjust ruler, this ruler tried to silence him or even eliminate him physically. Rulers knew people listened to the prophets.

False prophets, on the other hand, tired to please rulers, even if they were not righteous, to ensure their privileged positions, and tried to convince the people that by obeying their ruler they would have “peace.”

One of the most beautiful images about truth, peace, mercy, and righteousness from the perspective of those who followed the true prophets is found in Psalm 85, verses 10 and 11: “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Truth shall sing forth from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.”

This is a wonderful vision of what God’s Kingdom on earth should look like. Let us embrace it and, with God’s grace and strength, endeavor to make it true.

Boasting is one of the features of human character that people criticize the most, and yet, it is quite common in human society. Unfortunately, it has been, and still is, a trait of some people who have somehow “succeeded” in society, whether in terms of wealth, social prestige, or both.

Even so, the worst possible form of human boasting is that of those who consider themselves spiritually “superior” to others, because they see themselves as the righteous ones, as opposed to the sinners. Another subtle, but extremely harmful form of boasting, has to do with those who have attained some kind of higher mystical states, and consider themselves above the vast majority of humans.

Jesus’ teachings were always about being humble and eager to serve, never about being boastful or conceited. He also warned His followers about the worst kind of pride: considering oneself spiritually superior to the rest.

No human being who has ever tread this earth has been in closer spiritual communion with our Creator than Jesus Christ our Lord. However, He never boasted of anything. Even when he performed the most incredible of miracles, His only motive was always loving compassion for others, and He always told the recipient of God’s grace and the witnesses “not to tell anyone” about what they had seen.

As a faithful follower of Jesus’ teachings and life, the Apostle Paul, who suffered all kinds of persecutions, imprisonments, physical injuries, slander, and rejections, was also someone who, by God’s grace, was able to attain high mystical states, as He Himself tells the converts at Corinth his Second Letter to the Corinthians, chapter twelve. But the reason for doing so has nothing to do with boasting.

As he explains, he could boast on behalf of the person who has attained such states—himself, for it is true, but on his own behalf he will only boast of his weakness.

He then proceeds to tell about what he names “his thorn in the flesh”, as some kind of suffering that will prevent him from being too elated. Scholars have never been able to figure out what this suffering may refer to, because Paul never gave a clear explanation about it.

What he does say is this: “three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, but He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’”

The Apostle Paul is clearly teaching the converts at Corinth about the importance of trusting that, even when we might be tormented by ailments or other kinds of trials, by God’s grace we can be powerful in spreading out His Word and bringing others to salvation through Jesus Christ.

Christ’s life-giving power was manifested in the world in His self-sacrifice on the cross, which defeated the dark forces of evil, and death itself. It is by trusting in God’s grace,—and not by any kind of boasting about our self-righteousness or spiritual heights—that even if we cannot be rid of the ailments that make us physically weak, we are the most powerful in Christ, for as St. Paul says, “whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”

Grace is perceived as what is given to us undeservingly, freely, and abundantly, especially by our Creator. When we think of God’s abundant grace, some of the things that come to our mind are this wonderful and beautiful creation itself, our creation and preservation, all the good things that the earth gives us, and especially God’s unconditional love, shown to us in every single breath we take, but above all, in our redemption through His Word incarnate, Jesus Christ our Lord.

A somewhat different way to perceive God’s abundant grace in our lives, however, is presented by St. Paul in his Second Letter to the Corinthian converts.

In the eighth chapter of his letter, St. Paul speaks about “the grace of God that has been granted to the churches or Macedonia.” When one reads this, the first thing that may come to one’s mind is that St. Paul is going to speak about abundant goods or spiritual gifts that have been poured upon this particular congregation.

Surprise! What St. Paul refers to is their overflowing wealth of generosity, shown during a severe ordeal of affliction, which has enabled them to give, amid extreme poverty, but with abundant joy and generosity, so that those in greater poverty might not be in need.

One thing St. Paul points out here is their voluntariness in doing this. He says, “they voluntarily gave according to their means, and beyond their means, begging us earnestly for the privilege of sharing in this ministry to the saints.”

So, then St. Paul is urging Titus to encourage the church at Corinth to do the same, but as he clearly points out, “I do not say this as a command, but I am testing the genuineness of your love against the earnestness of others.”

According to St. Paul, this generosity was first and foremost shown by Jesus Christ Himself, “that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that by His poverty you might become rich.”

The richness St. Paul is referring to is not precisely material wealth (though we know that Jesus of Nazareth, although not really wealthy, was a person who was not lacking in essential goods.) Jesus Christ emptied Himself of all the glory pertaining to Him as God incarnate, and even died a shameful and cruel death upon a cross to lead us to salvation and abundant and real life.

Come to think of it, although perhaps not the first thing that comes to our mind when we think of grace, there is probably no greater abundance of grace in a faith community that when it shows its willingness, with overflowing generosity and joy, to share what they have with those in need.

This generosity is a reflection of God’s unconditional love in our human realm. It is an authentic love-driven act, because we are expecting nothing in return, but the great satisfaction of having contributed so that others do not lack what we have.

What does it mean to be reconciled, from a Christian perspective? We are all familiar with the use of the term, and it is often used in everyday language to refer to a state in which people who were not in a harmonious relationship turn back to it. This process often involves forgiveness and reflection, and in some cases even the intervention of an agent who helps the parts involved to be reconciled.

In the case of our Christian faith, we acknowledge that we are all living in a world where the Creator’s primary intent of a harmonious relationship with His creatures, and among the creatures, particularly the human creatures, has not been fully achieved.

Leaving aside the theological implications of what has been termed “the Fall”, according to the narratives in Genesis 2 and 3, and the differing opinions about its “inevitability”, what we perceive in our lives is that there is a longing deep inside us for living in a harmonious relationship with our God, with one another, and with the rest of all creatures, which is only partially possible in the world we live in.

What the Bible teaches us is that this reconciled state has always been God’s longing from the very moment He created the world, and created us, and that throughout the ages all His efforts were driven to the achievement of this goal. One crucial step towards achieving this goal was God’s incarnation in Jesus Christ our Lord. As Presiding Bishop Michael Curry put it in a masterful, yet simple way, in a sermon of his I once heard, when God saw all the “mess” we humans have made of His creation, He first sent prophets to make us turn and be reconciled, but seeing that it did not work, God said to Himself, “I’m going down myself.”

And He did. Jesus Christ is God’s perfect image in human form. By looking at Him, those who had the blessing to be in contact with Him while He was on earth—even without knowing it—were looking at the Creator Himself in the form of a human creature.

From that moment on, we humans have been able to know our Creator’s reconciling love in a tangible human way, in the person of Jesus Christ. His reconciling mission, as He Himself declared, was not His, but His Father’s, and He accomplished it relentlessly, even if it cost Him the cruelest form of death at a young age. But God raised Him from the dead, thus showing that His reconciling love cannot be defeated by death.

Because God loves His creatures—particularly the human creatures—with unbounded love, He has created us humans as free creatures. What that means is that we are not bounded by God to reciprocate His limitless love towards us, and to express this love to others. We are free to choose not to live in this harmonious love.

But freedom always implies making the right choices or facing the consequences. The consequences of making wrong choices in our lives are not “God’s punishments” as some have labeled them. That is an immature way of looking at reality.

What a loving God will never do is to force His creatures to live in the way that He knows is the only one that will bring us true fulfillment and joy—the reconciled way—simply because that would mean taking our freedom away from us.

What a loving God does is what Jesus Christ’s Father—and our Father—has done. In His Son, God has clearly shown us what the true and abundant reconciled life is, and this should, as St. Paul states in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “urge us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died.”

And St. Paul then adds, “And He died for all, so that those who live might no longer live for themselves, but for Him who died and was raised for them.”

In Christ we have died to the old unreconciled self. As Paul states further on in this same chapter of the letter, “if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation.”

This statement should not be taken lightly. Being a new creation implies that our old self-centered, unreconciled life has been left behind, and we have actually become new creatures. As such, we have now become, in Paul’s words, “ambassadors of Christ.”

If we are true followers of Jesus’ Way, we have become God’s agents of reconciliation for our times, in the places where God has put us to do His reconciling work.

Where does trust and confidence come from? Obviously the naive nature we are all born with does not last long in our lives.

Unfortunately our experiences throughout the years teach us that not all the people we come in contact with are to be trusted. There is so much deceit and cheating in this world!

But life also teaches us that there are some people who really love us and we can put our trust in. Those are the people who have proved to us with their attitudes and behaviors that they have a genuine desire to share the very best in their lives with us, and feel great joy in making us happy.

Parents and other close relatives, spouses, and real friends can be among those we put our trust and confidence in. It would be really hard to live our lives if we felt there was no one we could really trust.

But the first and foremost source of trust for all Christians is Jesus Christ Himself, and His and Our Heavenly Father, through the mediation of His Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, who sustains us and defends us against all the deceits in this world.

This trust and confidence that as followers of Christ we possess does not come from a blind and naive belief, as some have maliciously suggested. Jesus’ words and actions, which He Himself declared to come from His Father, are the ultimate proof of the genuineness of His love for all humankind, and for all of creation.

No deceiver would ever live a life of self-giving love, even to the point of self-sacrifice on a cross. People can deceive others with beautiful words and feigned love, but when it comes to real self-sacrifice, only the true lovers of souls remain.

So we trust in Jesus’ words because He showed His followers, without any trace of doubt, that He is God’s incarnate Word. And what He taught His disciples and has been handed down to us throughout the centuries, thanks to the four Gospel writers, those who wrote the Epistles, and the Book of Revelation, is the greatest news of all for humankind.

This is the Good News of everlasting and abundant life for all--the news that this ordinary mortal life is but the shadow of the real timeless and abundant life we are all gracefully given by our Creator, if only we are willing to be partakers of this wonderful gift.

The God who has life in Himself and has given His Son this life, has also promised to make us partakers of the true life if we follow His Way of Love, which is the only true Way of Life.

What we, as Christ’s followers, ultimately learn by imitating Christ’s Way of Love, is that this is the only genuine way in which life gets real meaning and purpose, and true joy. When we live our lives following the world’s fads and ways, we live in mutual distrust and lack of confidence, always trying to overstep others so as to gain recognition and amass wealth, and we deceive ourselves thinking this will bring us true joy.

Once we realize how useless and empty this self-centered way of living is, and turn to Jesus’ Way of Love, we can then start to live the real life of self-giving love, and have a foretaste in this mortal life of the true life we are all called to inherit, together with our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Although while we are in this mortal body this real timeless life is not visible to us, and we can only dimly imagine its splendor and wonder, we, as St. Paul says in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “are always confident; even though we know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord—for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yet, we do have confidence, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.”

In any case, whether still in our mortal bodies or already clothed in immortality by the Lord, as St. Paul also states in the same letter, “we make it our aim to please Him (the Lord).” For to please the Lord is not to be subservient to a whimsical ruler, but to follow the only way we know for sure that will lead us to everlasting, true, and abundant life.

Renewal is what makes biological life possible. All living organisms must constantly be renewed if they are to survive. When renewal is no longer possible, death ensues.

Although our bodies are always being renewed, the law of gradual decay is also at work from the very moment we are born. In some people this decay progresses faster than in others, depending on genetic or other environmental factors, and in our case—as human beings—also depending on our conscious choices. In the end, however, we all waste away, and die.

Our faith, which is based on Scripture, speaks of a different kind of renewal though. It is the renewal which our resurrected life in Christ brings us, and is totally independent of the natural law of biological decay and death.

As God has life in Himself, so does His Son Jesus Christ; and as He has promised us, so will we be partakers with Him of this resurrected and glorious life in full communion with our Creator, with one another, and with His whole creation.

The resurrected life we Christians believe in is not just a resuscitation from biological death. This has been done in the past, by some of the prophets like Elijah, and by Jesus Christ Himself. It is done quite often nowadays when people suffer cardiac arrest, and there are numerous testimonies of people who have had near death experiences and have been brought back to life.

But these people’s bodies continue to deteriorate with time, and they eventually die. Although in many cases these near-death experiences have had a great impact in their lives, making them reevaluate its meaning and purpose, and giving them a totally new perspective, the inevitable biological death takes place for everyone. These people, nevertheless, may experience spiritual renewal.

Renewal from a spiritual perspective has a totally different meaning. It means that our lives are transformed from within in such a way that the things that seemed of the greatest importance now seem insignificant, and what we really value is our relationship with the Source of All that is—our God—and our mutual loving relationships, which include not only our fellow human beings, but all the beings on this planet.

In this new perspective, as St. Paul points out in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, “we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen, for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”

We may experience this spiritual renewal as a result of our spiritual awakening when we let Christ’s life become our lives. What happens to our lives while we are still in our mortal bodies—which are subjected to the laws of biological decay—is like a foretaste of our true resurrected life in Christ. In fact, it could be seen as a sort of resurrection in our lives.

Our true and final resurrection, however, will take place when we are gloriously raised to the new incorruptible form of life, where God is all in all, and we are one with Christ, with one another, and with the whole of creation.

In such hopeful expectation, as we spend our days in our mortal bodies, as St. Paul also stated in the same letter, “even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.” So, do not lose heart.

Clay was a common material to make jars and many other vessels in ancient times. It is still used nowadays in many parts of the world. Its great advantage is its almost ubiquitous availability. Its great disadvantage is the fragility of the containers made with it: they can break easily if they fall from a certain height, or are struck by a heavy object.

In biblical literature we find clay as a symbol of all the elements of earth, in the image of humanity being made by God out of clay. Even the name Adam is taken from the same root as earth (or clay). This image reminds us of our common origin with all that exists on our planet, and it also reminds us of our physical finitude and fragility.

The Bible also tells us from the very start that we have been created in God’s image and likeness, which points to the indwelling divinity in our nature. It sound puzzling, but the Hebrew Scripture recognized and embraced this apparent contradiction gracefully, although the Book of Genesis points out that God’s first intentions were to create us as immortal beings, and decay and death only crept in as a result of sin.

Jesus Christ’s great mission on this earth was to lead the way back to God’s first intention through reconciliation with Him, with one another, and the rest of creation. He not only showed us the way through His teachings, but through His own life, which epitomized God’s Way of Love.

He gave Himself in loving sacrifice, and experienced a terrible form of dying, thus defeating the powers of evil, and arising from physical death in a glorified new embodiment, which is the resurrected life.

In this way, Jesus Christ embodied the abundant and real life of which, we, as His followers, can also be partakers.

It is a glorious and enlightened form of life in Christ, but Jesus Himself also taught us that we should not boast of attaining it, because it is not something we earn through our merits, but a wonderful grace granted to us freely, just because our Creator loves us infinitely.

As followers of Him who gave Himself in loving sacrifice, in this mortal life we should also be ready to face trials and hardships, decay and death. We have the greatest of all treasures that God has given us freely through Jesus Christ’s sacrifice for us: true and abundant life in our resurrection, but as St. Paul reminds the converts at Corinth in his second letter to them, this treasure is given to us in our mortal decaying bodies, “in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us.”

St. Paul also points out in this same letter how Jesus’ true followers should endure all these afflictions, which are the result of the clash with the dark powers that oppose being reconciled with God’s Way of Love. In their fearful blindness and ignorance the followers of such powers perceive this Way as a threat that will deprive them of the illusory treasures they cling to.

As we gradually come to value the real treasure that God has given us in Christ our Lord, it will shine more and more in our hearts, and as St. Paul also says, we will be given “the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”

Trinity Sunday, which is the Sunday after Pentecost, always reminds us of God’s Son—Jesus Christ Our Lord—as coeternal with the Father, and God’s Holy Spirit.

We know that the doctrine of the Holy Trinity was a gradual development in the history of the Christian Church, and although some New Testament texts give us some glimpse of it, we cannot be sure that these references were not a further addition after the fourth century, when the Councils of Nicaea and Constantinople finally settled the disputes about Christ’s nature.

The fact is that it is now an essential part of our common belief as Christians, although any attempt to rationalize it will always fall short, simply because it is one of the greatest mysteries of our faith: one God that becomes known to us humans in three Persons.

Efforts have been made to label each Person with one main feature: the Creator, the Redeemer, the Comforter, but as has been noted by several scholars, in reality we can see each of the Persons acting out any of these three features interchangeably in God’s plan of salvation.

The most controversial aspect in the history of Christianity has always been the Son’s nature: equal or not equal to the Father?

We might think that not recognizing the Son’s nature as equal to the Father’s is but a nonsensical heresy, but the fact is that for centuries this controversy raged on, and there was a time when those who did not recognize it were represented a significant percentage in the Christian Church.

Even nowadays there are certain believers who see themselves as Christian—although Trinitarian Christians do not acknowledge them as such—but do not believe in a Trinitarian God.

This doctrine has become part and parcel of our common belief in most mainline Christian denominations, and its public confession is now seen as a sign that a person is a true Christian.

But confessions of faith—as important as they may be to keep the unity of the Church—unless they have real impact on people’s daily lives, will not do much to transform us into what God has always meant us to be: His image and likeness.

Proclaiming that Jesus Christ was God’s Son meant for the Jewish people that He and God were the same. When a father publicly said, “this is my son” in that society, he was not simply referring to an offspring of the male sex, he was acknowledging that this person was like himself, and he was proud to proclaim it. Sonship was not recognized until the male offspring came of age.

This is the reason why for some Jews who followed the orthodoxy of Judaism, Jesus calling himself God’s Son, especially when He used the familiar term “Abba” to refer to God, sounded extremely offensive.

Sonship in the society in which Jesus lived, and in later times, could also be achieved through adoption. When someone affirmed that a person who was not their offspring was their son, they were publicly adopting that person, and this person had the same rights as a natural son.

In this sense, the New Testament writers refer to Jesus’ true followers, as God’s adopted children, and though it may sound as “second-class children” to modern ears, this was not the case in those times.

As St. Paul points out in his letter to the Romans, if we are true followers and have received His Spirit, we call God “Abba”, just like Jesus did, and “if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.”

The suffering does not necessarily refer to Jesus’ crucifixion—although some of Jesus’ followers were in fact crucified—but to the persecutions and sacrifices that being a true follower of Jesus’ radical Way of Love implied then, and still in many cases imply nowadays.

Reflecting on what it really means that we have become God’s children, and acting on what this statement implies, can help transform our lives more and more into Christ’s likeness, so that we can genuinely call God “Abba”, and also become one with the Holy Trinity in whose name we have been baptized.

When we think of what happened in the Tower of Babel, what comes to our minds is that the variety of languages that was produced at that point caused confusion, so that people could no longer understand each other, and they were thus dispersed throughout the earth.

Dispersion is not necessarily a bad thing though, and it must have been in God’s plan that humankind should be dispersed and occupied different parts of the planet, and that a multitude of different rich forms of civilization would emerge from this dispersion.

The fact that different people spoke different languages and made it harder for different nations to communicate with one another was not so positive, but it also contributed to enrich the cultural heritage of humanity.

And people found their way to learn other languages and cultures, so as to enable communication among the different nations.

As a linguist and a person who has been able to learn other foreign languages and cultures, I can say, based on personal experience, that this has greatly expanded my horizons, and made me more empathic to other cultures.

The Pentecost phenomenon insofar as languages are concerned clearly shows that variety does not necessarily mean confusion, but it can serve the purpose of unifying people from different cultural and linguistic backgrounds.

The people who attended the Feast of Pentecost were all probably able to understand the languages that were used as the main means of communication in that part of the world at that time: Koine Greek, and Aramaic. Most learned people spoke Koine Greek, but Aramaic was probably the language all the disciples could speak. If the disciples had used either of these most of the people present would have understood at least the essence of what was said.

But what the Holy Spirit enabled them to do was to use a variety of languages, the local languages of all those present, so that the message would go straight to their hearts. As a person who can speak a second language well, I can attest to the fact that what is said in my mother tongue still resonates deeper into my heart and mind.

The Holy Spirit is one, just as God Himself is one, even though He is known by us in three persons. This Spirit of Truth teaches us to be one with one another, with God, and with the whole creation. Unity is its main goal. But the way this unity is achieved is not through uniformity, but through a wonderful variety of gifts.

As Jesus’ followers, are all members of Christ’s Body—the Church—but for a body to function properly it needs different members with specific tasks working harmoniously with a common goal.

This common goal, as St. Paul points out in his First Letter to the Corinthians, is the common good. And from the Christian standpoint, the common good is that we may all be brought to the communion of the Saints, where there is no longer “Jew or Greek, slaves or free”, but all with their unique gifts contribute to make up the Holy Assembly in which God is one in all, and all are one in Him.

The Thursday after the Sixth Sunday of Easter is Ascension Day, and what the Church Universal celebrates on this day is Christ’s full and ultimate perfect communion with the Creator, which constitutes also a pointer to our hoped-for full communion with Him and all of creation.

This common union (communion) with God, with one another, and the rest of the creatures on the planet in our Christian faith is not seen as the obliteration of our own uniqueness as individuals, but as a voluntary loving obedience to do God’s will, which is the greatest good for all of His creatures.

In fact, as the Apostle Paul has pointed out in his First Letter to the Corinthians, Christ’s body on earth, known as the Church, is made up of distinct and unique members—each of us—which put together in harmony can carry out Christ’s reconciling mission in this world.

Life in the Christian sense—particularly in the sense that John the Evangelist gives it—is much more than breathing, eating, and reproducing. It is even much more than any temporary self-gratifying pleasure can give. True and abundant life, also called eternal life in the gospels due to its timelessness, is above all a life characterized by the abundance of unconditional love. Such was the life that Jesus lived on this earth, with the intent to show us God’s life and love in human form.

Jesus life was not only the perfect image of God’s love incarnate; He is also, and above all, the Way to follow to attain such life, both at a personal and communal level.

During His ministry on earth one of Jesus’ main goals was to train disciples who would in turn train others to be His followers in His Way of Love. This training involved not only the oral teaching of principles, but also experiencing this love-giving life with Him, and ultimately witnessing His self-sacrifice on the cross, and His victory over the powers of evil and death.

His disciples were also witnesses of Christ’s Ascension to the Father, and though the physical separation from their beloved master afflicted them, they were soon overwhelmingly filled with the Holy Spirit, as Jesus Himself had promised them, and they began to bear witness of Jesus’ very life in their own lives, working out powerful signs of His life-giving love.

These powerful signs, together with the outstanding mutual love they showed to the world, brought about the conversion of thousands in a really short time, who in turn became new witnesses of the Son’s life for others.

Christ’s life as the perfect image of God’s life, is the life we—as Christ’s followers—long to have with all our being. If by being born anew as true sons and daughters of God we also become His children, then we also have the Son’s life in us.

As John the Evangelist states in his First letter, “God gave us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. Whoever has the Son has life, whoever does not have the Son of God does not have life.” We certainly want to have this life.

“See how much love they have for one another.” This is what those who witnessed the rising of the first Christian communities said in astonishment, and what made this movement grow and develop tremendously.

The love they perceived went beyond family or even national ties. It showed even among people from different races and nations, and made no distinctions based on sex, age, or origin of any kind. It even showed slaves and owners, circumcised and uncircumcised alike.

How did this genuine love show among the true followers of Jesus’ Way? It showed in the way they treated one another, with kindness and mutual respect; it showed in how the ones who had more wealth gave significant portions of what they had so that no one in their midst would be in need. It showed in how they tended the sick, the vulnerable, the ones who were suffering. It showed in how they prayed fervently for one another and for the world, and in their gathering together for worship, prayer, and breaking the bread, as Jesus Himself had commanded them to do through the Apostles.

Such was the characteristic way of life of the first Christians, and the most evident distinguishing trait of these communities was authentic love.

John the Apostle, the Evangelist, was also known as “the beloved disciple”. He was the youngest of the twelve. For some special reason that will always elude us, Jesus felt some special affection for him. He was one of Jesus’ closest three disciples, and at the end of his gospel, in the exchange between Peter and Jesus, when Peter asked Jesus what would happen to him, Jesus replied that he would stay alive until He returned, which did not mean he would not die, but probably that he did not suffer martyrdom.

It is not a mere coincidence that John’s writings, particularly his First Letter, is so filled with the notion of love. He describes himself in his gospel as “the disciple that Jesus loved.” That clearly shows he was totally aware of Jesus’ love for him, and of God’s love shown to him through Jesus in particular.

In his letters he always exhorts the converts to abide in God’s love, and makes it clear that real love is much more than a mere word. He urges the recipients of his letters to live out their love in mutual actions of loving care and service. Not doing so, he points out, would make them liars, for “anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

But just as he himself felt Jesus’ love, and God’s love through Him in his own life, he is also aware that abiding in God’s love is first and foremost determined by the assurance of God’s love for us.

This is how John the Evangelist defines God’s love: “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another.”

And he concludes this part of the letter in this way: “We love because He first loved us…And He has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother.”

So much has been said about love, the different expressions of human love, what true love consists of, etc., that there is hardly anything original that could be expressed about this concept.

Jesus’ teachings were mainly based on God’s love for us all, and our mutual love, as we all know. Being a Jew, however, Jesus never meant to open a philosophical discussion about love as a concept. He was not intending to say anything new. In fact, his summary of the Law, in which love sums it all, is taken from two passages of Scripture, one from Leviticus, and the other from Deuteronomy.

Jesus was a man of prayer and contemplation. On several occasions, according to the Gospels, He was found in solitude praying to His Father, but the way He understood love was certainly totally pragmatic in nature.

For Jesus, loving God meant doing God’s will. He spoke of Himself as “being one with the Father”, but that statement was much more pragmatic than ontological. The way Jesus proved to His followers that this statement was much more than mere words was by doing His Father’s will, by putting God’s love into practice, and by teaching His followers that this is the only way to true life in Him.

Jesus not only healed, comforted, brought back to life, and fed people throughout the years of His active ministry on earth, but showed His boundless love for all by giving Himself in sacrifice, thus showing His disciples how true love may sometimes even demand that we be willing to give our physical life for others.

In His prayer on the night He was arrested, Jesus asked His Father that His followers might be one in Him and with one another as He was one with the Father. The basis for this oneness was the love that His followers should have for Him, for the Father, and for one another. But this was in no way meant to be a beautiful abstraction.

During the last supper with His disciples, Jesus washed their feet, and asked them to do the same for one another. This was a concrete loving action, but it was also used by Jews as a symbol of all loving acts of service that they—and all those who wanted to follow His Way of Love—should do for one another.

John the Evangelist, in his First Letter, equated God to love, not as a definition of God, but to express the best possible way in which we human beings can perceive God’s nature, and show ourselves as God’s true image and likeness in this world, by practicing His unconditional love.

For John the Evangelist, love is what makes one alive, and the absence of love equals death. If we know some biology, the statement is found to be true even at the basic level of the definition of life. All living organisms are characterized by some kind of exchange of material with the environment, and with other living organisms. When this exchange ceases to take place, so does life. This exchange can be seen as the basic manifestation of love. Loving means exchanging, a give and take, a relationship of mutuality, in which we not only feel the need to receive, but also to give.

We all need to feel loved and accepted, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. It is an intrinsic trait of our nature. But we also ultimately need to feel that we can give love.

Love, however, can never remain in the realm of feelings and emotions. Feelings and emotions can play a great part in some of the expressions of love—love between the members of a couple, or between relatives and friends—but there has to be a concrete and practical manifestation of this give and take for love to be real.

As John the Evangelist put it in his First Letter, chapter 3, “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses to help?… Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.”

How you ever wondered what the world would be if there were no laws? A total chaos, to be sure. It could have even been destroyed a long time ago. Even with laws being enforced there are so many crimes, killings, and wars being waged in different parts of the world.

The fact is that not everyone likes to be subject to laws. There are those who would prefer to live in lawlessness, following only their whimsical tendencies and desires. It is also true that some human laws can be arbitrary and unjust, particularly when they are devised to uphold a totalitarian and tyrannical regime.

Only God’s Law is perfect, because it is the Law of Love. This is what Jesus pointed out to the Master of the Law who asked Him to mention the most important law of all. Jesus simply referred to the Love of God as first and foremost, and the Love of neighbor as practically equal to it.

Jesus also made clear to His followers that He had not come to abolish the Law, but to give it its true fulfillment. He was aware that God’s Law was only imperfectly reflected in the Commandments and other precepts that the Jews had developed throughout the centuries, but even so these precepts had the indisputable value of making societal life more harmonious, and more aligned with God’s will.

Human laws are needed because we are still not pure reflections of God’s Law of Love. Living harmoniously with our Creator, with one another, and with all of creation is our main aspiration as followers of Jesus’ Way. But in order to achieve harmony we need to grasp its laws and live according to them.

Musical harmony can only be achieved when a singer or musician (or a group of singers or musicians) properly apply the laws of harmony in their performance. If they do not, you can be sure that everyone will speedily flee the place where they are playing or singing. It sounds like hell.

Disharmony is probably the best way to describe what we imagine hell to be. And disharmony is a form of lawlessness (disregard for the laws of harmony, in this case). Sin is the condition of being in total discord with our Creator’s loving will, and with the rest of His created creatures. Selfishly doing one’s whimsical will in total disregard of how it affects the others is being sinful, and lawless.

As true children of our God, followers of His beloved Son, and guided by His Holy Spirit, we are moving towards a state of righteousness—that is, towards a state where we abide in God’s true Law.

Where there is righteousness, sin has no place, and the devil flees. Disharmony and lawlessness are obliterated by God’s perfect Law of Love, and by those who abide in this perfect law.

As St. John the Evangelist points out in his First Letter, “everyone who commits sins is guilty of lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. You know that He (Jesus Christ) was revealed to take away sins, and in Him there is no sin.”

And he aptly concludes, “The Son of God was revealed for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil.”

Though the Evangelists never attempted to define God, since they knew our human mind could never grasp the Unknowable, in St. John’s letters we do find these phrases telling us something about God, “God is Love”, and “God is Light.”

These are not attempts at definitions, but rather, ways of expressing how we humans might experience the divine.

Saying that God is Light gives us an image, a perception that is familiar to us, and one that is so dearly loved and cherished by us all.

Physical light is what allows us human beings, and so many other living creatures in this world, to perceive the world which surrounds us. We have other ways of perception, of course, but it is through the sense of seeing—which can only work in the presence of light—that most of our perception of the world takes place.

Throughout the history of civilization the presence of light has been the best ally of humankind. When humans discovered how to make fire and illumine the darkness of the night, that was one giant step forward in human development.

Darkness was for the first humans the worst enemy. Not being able to perceive their surroundings made human beings an easy prey for predators whose sense of sight was much sharper than that of humans. This is why evil was likened to darkness since time immemorial.

In our modern world, so brightly illumined by electrical lights that in some cities it is almost impossible to see the stars, we may have lost some of the significance that light had for our ancestors. But the use of light in a figurative sense, as the agent which dispels the evil in the world—which is in turn likened to darkness—is still easily perceived by contemporary humans.

It is no mere coincidence that in the Bible story of creation, light appears as the first thing that came into existence. Light reflects God’s very essence because it is perceived as a synonym of goodness.

But light is also figuratively perceived as what is true, what is not concealed, as the opposite of devious contrivance and deceit.

In this respect, walking in the Light means behaving with honesty, transparency, and clear purpose in life.

One of the things Jesus spoke strongly against during His earthly ministry was hypocrisy and deviousness.

Walking in the Light, therefore, does not imply that we are sinless or do not need to confess our sins. Just the opposite, if we pretend that we have no sin, we are certainly walking in the darkness, and there is no redemption for us.

When we are authentic in our words and attitudes, when we recognize our faults openly, and genuinely desire to be forgiven and change our ways for the better, we are living in God’s Light and we are walking towards an ever brighter light.

As John the Evangelist said in his First Letter, “If we walk in the Light, as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.”

May we always walk in the Light, that we may also become the lights which together will illumine and dispel the evil darkness of the world.

We are now in the week after Easter Sunday known as Easter Week. The whole Season after the celebration of the Resurrection of Our Lord and Savior—which lasts 50 days—is known as the Easter Season.

This is the season of the Christian year when we most emphatically proclaim our faith in the resurrected Christ, and in our own resurrected life as the Christian hope.

The fact that Jesus of Nazareth, a man who lived more than twenty centuries ago in that region of the world, and who proclaimed and lived God’s unconditional love for all, was crucified, dead, and then raised from the dead by God to a new glorified life, is the cornerstone of the faith of His followers, who have come to be known as Christians, and of whom millions are part even in today’s world.

The events that followed Jesus’ resurrection are the main topic of this season of the year, and what the Gospels tell us in several instances looks ambiguous and mysterious. There are cases when Jesus’ followers do not recognize Him at once, and the resurrected Jesus seems to come and go, appear and disappear, sometimes defying the laws of physics.

We will probably never know the exact explanation for these seemingly strange accounts, but they seem to point to a different kind of embodiment in the resurrected Jesus, although the Gospel writers did make it clear that the resurrected Jesus was fully embodied, and not a ghost.

All this may have led some of the first followers to think about the Christ as an entity separate from the man Jesus, and this was the beginning of a movement that developed through the centuries as one of the branches of Gnosticism, in which the Christ is a principle which became partially incarnate in the man Jesus at His baptism, but left Him later on, when He was crucified.

According to some of these theories, this principle then made it possible for Jesus to rise from the dead, and Jesus later on disappeared to live a retired life until His final death.

But this is not the true faith that the Gospel writers and the disciples proclaimed, nor the faith that has been handed down to us through the centuries. Our faith is an incarnate faith. Christianity is the incarnate faith par excellence.

What we believe is what John the Evangelist clearly proclaims in the prologue to his Gospel: “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us.”

Jesus is the Christ. They are one and the same person. It is Christ who died for us, and who was risen. It is this same Jesus Christ who ascended to the Father, and whose glorious return we await. This, and no other, is the true Christian faith. In his First Letter, John the Evangelist writes, “This is the one who came by water and blood, Jesus Christ, not with the water only, but with the water and the blood.”

The reference to the blood unmistakably points to Christ’s fully human nature, and also to His sacrifice on the cross. John the Evangelist was already clearing up things for those who had tried to separate Jesus the man from the Christ.

Why is it so vital to have a clear conviction about the incarnational nature of our faith? First of all, because it makes clear to us one of the main tenets of our faith. We believe in a God who was made man, who lived as one of us, and suffered as one of us. In fact, He was a God who suffered much more than many of us, giving Himself in sacrifice for our redemption.

And we also believe that one of His main teachings was that we, as His followers, are called to incarnate God’s love in our own lives as well. We must see Christ’s face in each and everyone of God’s children, and also be Christ’s mouth, hands and feet for each of them.

This is how we, as Christ’s followers, best proclaim the resurrected Christ in our own lives.

How fine a thing it is to move from festival to festival, from prayer to prayer, from holy day to holy day. The time is now at hand when we enteron a new beginning: the proclamation of the blessed Passover, in which the Lord was sacrificed. We feed as on the food of life, we constantly refresh our souls with his precious blood, as from a fountain. Ye we are always thirsting, burning to be satisfied. But he himself is present for those who thirst and in his goodness invites them to the feast day. Our Savior repeats his words: “If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink.”

He quenched the thirst not only of those who came to him then. Whenever any seek him they are freely admitted to the presence of the Savior. The grace of the feast is not restricted to one occasion. Its rays of glory never set. It is always at hand to enlighten the minds of those who desire it. Its power is always there for those whose minds have been enlightened, and who meditate day and night on the holy Scriptures, like the one who is called blessed in the holy psalm “Blessed is the one who has not followed the counsel of the wicked, or stood where sinners stand, or sat in the seat of the scornful, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night.”

Moreover, my friends, the God who first established this feast for us allows us to celebrate it each year. He who gave up his Son to death for our salvation, from the same motive gives us this feast, which is commemorated every year. This feast guides us through the trials that meet us in this world. God now gives us the joy of salvation that shines out from this fest, as he brings us together to form one assembly, uniting us all in spirit in every place, allowing us to pray together and to offer common thanksgiving, as is our duty on the feast. Such is the wonder of his love: he gathers to this feast those who are far apart, and brings together in unity of faith those who may be physically separated from each other.

St. Athanasius (ca. 298-373) was a bishop and theologian, the great defender of the Nicene confession of Christ’s true divinity. He was the primary spokesman for the orthodox cause at the Council of Nicaea and became Bishop of Alexandria several years later. He also played an important role in finalizing the canon of New Testament books. He issued a Pascal Letter to the faithful most years of his 45-year episcopate, declaring the date of Easter and summoning them to keep the feast. He is commemorated on May 2 by Western Christians, on May 15 by the Coptic Church, and on January 18 by the other Eastern Orthodox churches.

The way we relate to our Creator, to one another, and to the rest of creation is what determines where we are in Christ’s Way of Love in our pilgrimage to God’s Home—our true Home.

We are all walking on the way, and God is always placing signposts and cheering and encouraging us all along, so that we do not give up or go astray, because He longs for us to be in His presence and be partakers of the same glory that His only-begotten Son now shares with Him in His glorious Kingdom.

There are different ways to relate to God, to our fellow human beings, and to His whole creation, As we mature as God’s true sons and daughters, there is a shift in this kind of relationship, which goes from the mere sense of forceful obedience out of the fear of punishment—which resembles the way children were traditionally brought up to obey their parents and elder family members—to a deeper sense of loving communion with the Source of all life—the Creator—, with all humankind, and with all other forms of life in this creation.

This is, in essence, the kind of relationship that God’s incarnate Son—Jesus Christ our Lord—has taught us; this is what we know as His Way of Love, but it was already present in the Old Testament prophets’ teachings. We could say that some of these prophets—like Jeremiah—foresaw the time when this new type of relationship, or New Covenant, would be established.

It is no mere coincidence that the whole body of Holy Scriptures that was written after Christ’s glorious Resurrection and Ascension is known as the New Testament (or New Covenant). All of Christ’s teachings are based on this new kind of loving relationship, which implies the forgiveness of all our past sins, and an intimate and inner way of relating to a loving God, whose only demand is our total willing acceptance of His love for our lives.

Now we would no longer be referring to “God for us”, as the Israelites who were freed from the bondage in Egypt and led to the promised land conceived their Lord. Not even as “God with us”—Emmanuel, which is the God envisioned by the prophets when they longed for their God to make His dwelling among His people, and be with them at all times. It is now time for “God in us”—a most intimate inner and loving communion with the Source of all that is, so that we become an integral part of this source and of all that has been created.

This is what Jeremiah already foretold when he said, speaking in the Lord’s name: “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts, and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord’, for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”

Knowing, for the Israelites, had much more to do with intimate relationship than with intellectual activity. In fact, the same verb is used in Hebrew for having sexual intercourse as for getting to know something. This gives us a clearer picture of what the prophet actually meant when he said, speaking in God’s name: “for they shall know me.”

In this new kind of relationship obeying God’s law comes, not as a result of fear of punishment, but as an inevitable result of this intimate loving communion with God’s very being and will.

This is the kind of relationship that we, as followers of Christ’s Way, aspire to attain in our own lives, and this is also the wondrous Good News we cannot help but sharing with the whole world.

Our understanding of what God’s Law is may vary, but it obviously refers to the superior order of harmonious workings by which God creates, recreates, and maintains His creation, including us, who have been created in His image and likeness.

Can we, as finite beings, have a full grasp of God’s Law? Hardly so, unless it has been revealed to us by God’s messengers and prophets, and above all, by His only-begotten Son and Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.

We can have an intuitive inkling of what should be in accordance with God’s will, and what not, but even so, we can never have a comprehensive understanding of His Law.

The Jews were given the basic Ten Commandments by Moses, who received God’s inspiration to write them, so that the people might have a general guidance on how to relate to their Creator, and to one another as a people who would reflect God’s will in the world, so that they would also serve as a good example to be imitated by other surrounding nations.

In time, there was an expansion of these basic ten, so that they might more accurately guide the people in their daily lives.

Our understanding of what God’s Law is may vary, but it obviously refers to the superior order of harmonious workings by which God creates, recreates, and maintains His creation, including us, who have been created in His image and likeness.

Can we, as finite beings, have a full grasp of God’s Law? Hardly so, unless it has been revealed to us by God’s messengers and prophets, and above all, by His only-begotten Son and Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.

We can have an intuitive inkling of what should be in accordance with God’s will, and what not, but even so, we can never have a comprehensive understanding of His Law.

The Jews were given the basic Ten Commandments by Moses, who received God’s inspiration to write them, so that the people might have a general guidance on how to relate to their Creator, and to one another as a people who would reflect God’s will in the world, so that they would also serve as a good example to be imitated by other surrounding nations.

In time, there was an expansion of these basic ten, so that they might more accurately guide the people in their daily lives. If we take a look at the Ten Commandments it is easy to realize that their nature is mainly prohibitive. They warn the people about what actions they should avoid doing. By following them strictly, one could become a person who does no harm, but not exactly a person who cares for the others, or who really manifests love for the Creator and their neighbors.

When Jesus was asked about the most important commandment, He did not refer to any of these ten, but put together two commandments, one found in Leviticus, and the other in Deuteronomy. One refers to loving God with your whole being, and the other to loving your neighbor as yourself.

When Jesus declared that on these two hang all the Law and the Prophets, He meant that it is the Law of Love which really comprises all other commandments. When someone is guided by God’s unconditional love, they are not prone to do anyone harm in any way, and they are constantly driven to compassion, justice, and good works towards those they come in contact with, as an expression of God’s love in their lives.

Recognizing that this Law of Love is the best expression that we, as finite beings, can have of God’s Law is one thing; being guided by it all the time is something else.

Our nature is both spiritual and earthly. And our earthly nature tends to follow our individualized human nature. This nature still adheres to self-preservation instincts in a similar way as animals do, but takes them to a “rationalized” manifestation in our self-centered tendencies, which even try to justify our selfish ways of neglecting others’ needs, and climbing in the social scale at the expense of the suffering and misery of others.

Recognizing that we, by our own means, are inadequate to overcome these tendencies, is actually the first positive step towards overcoming them. We need to realize that we need God’s help in overcoming our sinful nature.

Sin is addictive. It is enslaving. Recognizing its addictive and enslaving nature is already a good beginning. But then we need to recognize that only a higher power, something other than ourselves, can help us out of it.

This is what alcoholics do all the time in their AA meetings and daily practice. Originally they mentioned God as the only one who could help them out of their terrible addiction. Nowadays, they talk about a “higher power”, in case some unbelievers also want to benefit from their program. But which “higher power” could it be, other than God Himself, after all?

The Apostle Paul recognized this fact in himself, as he clearly stated it in his letter to the Romans, when he expressed, “For I delight in the Law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law in my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

May God’s Law always be our greatest delight but let us also ask our Lord and Savior for help in making His Law of Love rule our lives!

Our understanding of what God’s Law is may vary, but it obviously refers to the superior order of harmonious workings by which God creates, recreates, and maintains His creation, including us, who have been created in His image and likeness.

Can we, as finite beings, have a full grasp of God’s Law? Hardly so, unless it has been revealed to us by God’s messengers and prophets, and above all, by His only-begotten Son and Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.

We can have an intuitive inkling of what should be in accordance with God’s will, and what not, but even so, we can never have a comprehensive understanding of His Law.

The Jews were given the basic Ten Commandments by Moses, who received God’s inspiration to write them, so that the people might have a general guidance on how to relate to their Creator, and to one another as a people who would reflect God’s will in the world, so that they would also serve as a good example to be imitated by other surrounding nations.

In time, there was an expansion of these basic ten, so that they might more accurately guide the people in their daily lives. Our understanding of what God’s Law is may vary, but it obviously refers to the superior order of harmonious workings by which God creates, recreates, and maintains His creation, including us, who have been created in His image and likeness.

Can we, as finite beings, have a full grasp of God’s Law? Hardly so, unless it has been revealed to us by God’s messengers and prophets, and above all, by His only-begotten Son and Savior, Jesus Christ our Lord.

We can have an intuitive inkling of what should be in accordance with God’s will, and what not, but even so, we can never have a comprehensive understanding of His Law.

The Jews were given the basic Ten Commandments by Moses, who received God’s inspiration to write them, so that the people might have a general guidance on how to relate to their Creator, and to one another as a people who would reflect God’s will in the world, so that they would also serve as a good example to be imitated by other surrounding nations.

In time, there was an expansion of these basic ten, so that they might more accurately guide the people in their daily lives. If we take a look at the Ten Commandments it is easy to realize that their nature is mainly prohibitive. They warn the people about what actions they should avoid doing. By following them strictly, one could become a person who does no harm, but not exactly a person who cares for the others, or who really manifests love for the Creator and their neighbors.

When Jesus was asked about the most important commandment, He did not refer to any of these ten, but put together two commandments, one found in Leviticus, and the other in Deuteronomy. One refers to loving God with your whole being, and the other to loving your neighbor as yourself.

When Jesus declared that on these two hang all the Law and the Prophets, He meant that it is the Law of Love which really comprises all other commandments. When someone is guided by God’s unconditional love, they are not prone to do anyone harm in any way, and they are constantly driven to compassion, justice, and good works towards those they come in contact with, as an expression of God’s love in their lives.

Recognizing that this Law of Love is the best expression that we, as finite beings, can have of God’s Law is one thing; being guided by it all the time is something else.

Our nature is both spiritual and earthly. And our earthly nature tends to follow our individualized human nature. This nature still adheres to self-preservation instincts in a similar way as animals do, but takes them to a “rationalized” manifestation in our self-centered tendencies, which even try to justify our selfish ways of neglecting others’ needs, and climbing in the social scale at the expense of the suffering and misery of others.

Recognizing that we, by our own means, are inadequate to overcome these tendencies, is actually the first positive step towards overcoming them. We need to realize that we need God’s help in overcoming our sinful nature.

Sin is addictive. It is enslaving. Recognizing its addictive and enslaving nature is already a good beginning. But then we need to recognize that only a higher power, something other than ourselves, can help us out of it.

This is what alcoholics do all the time in their AA meetings and daily practice. Originally they mentioned God as the only one who could help them out of their terrible addiction. Nowadays, they talk about a “higher power”, in case some unbelievers also want to benefit from their program. But which “higher power” could it be, other than God Himself, after all?

The Apostle Paul recognized this fact in himself, as he clearly stated it in his letter to the Romans, when he expressed, “For I delight in the Law of God in my inmost self, but I see in my members another law at war with the law in my mind, making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

May God’s Law always be our greatest delight, but let us also ask our Lord and Savior for help in making His Law of Love rule our lives!

It may be true that suffering has the effect of making us more sympathetic towards those who suffer in the world. However, what Jesus’ Way of Love teaches us is that we should always, as bearers of His Good News, give hope to the hopeless, strive to heal the infirm, and restore wholeness of life to the broken ones.

In this view, suffering as such has no merit in itself. We should not seek suffering for its own sake. That makes no sense at all if we believe in an all-loving God. But we must be willing to undergo suffering for the sake of love.

Many who oppose or simply do not follow the Christian faith have objected that an all-loving God could not have delivered His own Son to a shameful and horrible death to save others. The omnipotent God could surely have found another way to save us from our sins. But there is a lot of confusion here.

It is not that God relished in Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross. If we believe that Christ is the Second Person of the Trinity, then God Himself suffered in the person of Jesus Christ. He suffered rejection, betrayal, and physical torment. He suffered a cruel death. But this suffering had a saving purpose. It was not useless. Through His sacrificial death, Christ conquered the powers of evil, and death itself. And He did not conquer them only for Himself, but for all who would follow His Way of Love.

What made this conquering possible? Unconditional and sacrificial love. There is no power stronger than this purest form of love. God is love. He is all-powerful because He is all-loving, He does not spare His only-begotten Son (Himself in the dynamic of the Trinity) for the sake of His love for humankind. So, this opens for us all the doors to real and abundant life in His self-giving love.

But as His followers in this loving life-giving way, we must also be willing to make sacrifices. We do not live in God’s fulfilled Kingdom as yet. This Kingdom has been inaugurated by Jesus Christ our Lord. He has already shown us, in His words and deeds, in His way of life, the signs of God’s Kingdom of justice, harmony, healing, and love. But we are not there yet.

Our reconciling mission as the Body of Christ—the Church—is to keep on making these signs visible to the world, so that through the conquering power of love the day may come when we can finally truly state,“Thy Kingdom HAS COME”.

In the meantime, notwithstanding, the opposing forces of evil of this world and the dark spiritual realms are still acting against this saving purpose. And they act with formidable slyness and cruelty. As followers of Christ we need to be aware of this fact. We will encounter great suffering in this world, not only because of our still unredeemed mortal nature, but mainly because of these opposing forces of evil in the world.

Evil cannot be fought with greater evil. It would be like trying to put out a fire by adding more fire. Unfortunately, such an obvious conclusion has still not been reached by the main leaders of the world. And wars and conflicts continue to be waged, even in this 21st century. The only thing that can conquer something is its opposite. The antidote of evil is goodness, or unconditional love. As unpractical as it may seem, this is the only way evil will ever be conquered and defeated in the world.

No unjust evil that we suffer in this world, as St. Paul clearly stated in his Letter to the Romans, can ever separate us from Christ’s love.

Here is what he wrote to the Romans, “Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? …No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through Him that loves us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

And St. Paul was not speaking in abstract terms, he had been suffering and would suffer all those, and even death, for Christ’s sake.

Oh, that our conviction today might be just half as strong as his!

As we journey through a second Lent under the COVID-19 pandemic, the synoptic Gospels’ story of Jesus’ Transfiguration provide a fruitful opportunity for growth as disciples of the living Word and Lord. In the Transfiguration Jesus momentarily shows his true figure. His recognizable human appearance is his emptying of himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men (Phil. 2:5-9). The Transfiguration fills in the implications of Peter’s Confession “You are the Christ.” He is not a new Elijah, nor a new Moses radiant with a borrowed glory. He is the manifestation of the living God himself. But even that statement is too simplistic.

Michael Ramsey gets the balance right between God and man: “The vision of Christ is the transfiguration of man.” If we are not always, continually, exquisitely sensitive to the other person, that statement looks like this: ‘My vision of Christ is my ultimate transfiguration.’ And in so doing, we lose the grace of seeing that the Transfiguration of Christ is just that, the transfiguration of Jesus; and mine only as I become enfolded and incorporated into Christ. In thinking about the “in-Christness” of the Transfiguration, I cannot help but be reminded of Paul’s frequent encouragement of those whom he made disciples: “We, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another” (Rom. 12:5). “In Christ Jesus, then, I have reason to be proud of my work for God. For I will not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has wrought through me to win obedience from the Gentiles” (Rom. 15:17-18).

I am indebted to Reginald Somerset Ward, a great spiritual director in England during the early 20th century, who reflected deeply on this mystery of the Transfiguration and saw two successive phases in the disciples’ growth in knowledge and faith in our Lord. First, there was the gift of knowing who Christ really is, Emmanuel, “God-with-us,” and then came the second gift of the deepening of human faith and knowledge as experience of being with God. The revelation of Christ is by far the more concrete. The experience of God is much more abstract and formless, but very relevant to us as well as Peter, James, and John.

Have you ever used a magnifying glass to burn a hole in a piece of paper or start a fire on a bright, sunny day? Think about the process. The glass focuses a narrow light beam, a form of energy, which by its greatness defies human inspection and is unapproachable by human eyes. If you look directly at the sun, you will be blinded. But the brilliant spot beneath the magnifying glass is, in truth, the actual light of the sun, gathered together and possessing the properties of the sun, and yet so limited that both it and its effects can be observed by human beings without harm, or at least can be controlled so that you don’t get burned! The magnifying glass stands for the Incarnation; the spot of light, God-made-man, Jesus Christ; and the sun, the majesty of the Godhead. Here we have the beginning of an orthodox Christian understanding of the Incarnation.

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Mother Miriam, CSM, is the ninth Mother Superior of the Eastern Province of the Community of Saint Mary.

Never is the light of a lamp—no matter how faintly it may shine—more welcome and cherished than when it shines alone in a dark place. Light is almost always welcome, except when people do things they would rather not have others see. But when we have several lights making a place bright, no particular light receives our concentrated attention as much as when there is only one light in a dark place.

The prophecies that were communicated to the Israelites throughout the centuries were like a lamp shining amidst their darkened lives. Sometimes the prophets spoke harshly about the injustice and the lack of compassion that those who ruled, and those who followed the rulers were characterized by, but in the prophets’ messages there was always hope of a new kind of relationship with the Creator and with one another—one based on justice, peace, and love—if peoples’ hearts turned to the Lord.

The season after the Epiphany is the season of Light. What the readings selected for this season bring us is a message of light in our own darkness, beginning with the manifestation of God’s Light to the World—Jesus Christ Our Lord—to the magi from the East, and culminating in the dazzling light of the transfigured and glorified Jesus, manifested to His three closest disciples, as a foretaste of His final glorification after His death and resurrection.

The message of salvation we have received through our faith in Christ Jesus has been handed down to us through the conduit of His first followers, who put it in writing themselves in some cases, and in other cases handed it down to others who put it in writing for us to read nowadays, more than twenty centuries later. But even during the time of Jesus’ first followers the forces of darkness tried to put out the Light, by confusing the first converts, and making them doubt the authenticity of the sources.

At all times there have been those who have doubted the message, and those who have even attacked it ferociously, because they cannot bear the Light in their lives, nor want the Light to reach others.

During Jesus’ time and after His death and glorious resurrection there was a multitude of religions and philosophical trends in the world, and it was common for people to think of a new message simply as some new fad that someone had made up.

This is why the Apostle Peter, in his Second Letter, clearly states, “For we did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of His majesty.” And here Peter makes reference to the voice they heard during Jesus’ transfiguration, which he, together with James, and John, were direct witnesses of.

It is evident that we, 21st-century Christians, are not direct witnesses of any of the things that the first followers said and wrote about Jesus. However, their congruence with the Old Testament prophecies, the deep conviction with which they were written, and the transformational power that they have had throughout the centuries, clearly show us they constitute the Lamp that shows us the way to true Life.

It was no mere chance that in the Transfiguration passage Jesus is accompanied by Moses and Elijah, the major representatives of the Law and the Prophets respectively. Jesus is clearly seen as the recapitulation of the Old Covenant, and the dazzling light that shines on His face and garments is the true Light of the world.

Living in the in-between time as we do, when God’s kingdom has been inaugurated, but certainly not fulfilled, we had better, as Peter instructs his readers to do, “be attentive to this (the prophetic message) as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.”

It is unquestionable that the knowledge an average person in the world today has is much greater than what even the most learned people had centuries ago. The advancements in modern science, particularly in the realm of informatics, have enabled the common citizens of most parts in the world to have access to all kinds of information, and this was never heard of until recently.

So nowadays people have a much more accurate idea of what the world and the universe is like, and the laws governing this material universe. Even so, although it is undeniable that civilization has brought about a more humane attitude in most people, wars and cruelty are still rampant in many parts of the world, and the present situation is still far from the Christian idea of universal love as the fundamental law that governs our lives.

As much as general knowledge of the world has developed, it is recognized, even by prominent scientists, that it is always incomplete, and we must humbly admit that there is still an enormous gap between the known and the unknown for us humans.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to attain knowledge. God put us in this world so that we would be its stewards, and no good steward can manage the estate properly without knowledge about it and about the best methods and procedures for proper management.

In this respect, God has certainly enabled us, through the use of intelligence, to become better stewards all the time, but there is one point where humanity has mostly failed: in the way we relate to one another and to the rest of creation.

What God has intended, from the very beginning of our creation, is that we base our relationships in mutual love. But the source of this love is God Himself. It is through the love of God that we are given the capacity to love one another, and to love all of God’s creation.

Attempting to know God with our finite minds has always been a failed attempt. The finite cannot know the infinite. It is as simple as that.

We can have glimpses of God’s infinite wisdom and love by observing His creation, and also by observing how the world, despite all the mismanagement that we, as imperfect, self-centered stewards have implemented, moves forward in terms of general prosperity, knowledge, and even ethical principles.

The only way in which we may have a better knowledge of our Creator is by letting His unconditional love become a vital part of our lives. This is what Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, came to show us in His own life. His way is the Way of Love, and His life is love-centered, instead of self-centered, so much so, that He even gave His own life for the sake of love.

Even in our intimate personal relationships, such as the ones we have in marriage, we become aware of the fact that the more we love the other person, the more we actually get to know the person.

Our relationship with our God is personal, not because the infinite Creator is a person literally speaking, but because this is the only way we, as persons, can relate to Him.

As we are known by God in love, we get to know God, not in an intellectual way, but in a close relationship in which His love becomes manifest in our own lives, and thus, in our relationships with others and the rest of creation.

Knowing something that others do not may make us feel proud, and we may even show contempt towards those who lack this knowledge. Priests and theological nerds may sometimes fall into this dangerous trap and can sometimes even hurt the simple faith of the people.

This happens when, for instance, due to popular religious beliefs, someone comes to a priest with an object they cherish to be blessed. That is not the moment to tell this person that the important thing is that they practice God’s love in their lives, and that the object they bring can do without the blessing, and it makes no difference to God.

Such an attitude will do more harm than good, because, as St. Paul warned in his First Letter to the Corinthians, “knowledge puffs, but love builds up.”

It is unquestionable that the knowledge an average person in the world today has is much greater than what even the most learned people had centuries ago. The advancements in modern science, particularly in the realm of informatics, have enabled the common citizens of most parts in the world to have access to all kinds of information, and this was never heard of until recently.

So nowadays people have a much more accurate idea of what the world and the universe is like, and the laws governing this material universe. Even so, although it is undeniable that civilization has brought about a more humane attitude in most people, wars and cruelty are still rampant in many parts of the world, and the present situation is still far from the Christian idea of universal love as the fundamental law that governs our lives.

As much as general knowledge of the world has developed, it is recognized, even by prominent scientists, that it is always incomplete, and we must humbly admit that there is still an enormous gap between the known and the unknown for us humans.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to attain knowledge. God put us in this world so that we would be its stewards, and no good steward can manage the estate properly without knowledge about it and about the best methods and procedures for proper management.

In this respect, God has certainly enabled us, through the use of intelligence, to become better stewards all the time, but there is one point where humanity has mostly failed: in the way we relate to one another and to the rest of creation.

What God has intended, from the very beginning of our creation, is that we base our relationships in mutual love. But the source of this love is God Himself. It is through the love of God that we are given the capacity to love one another, and to love all of God’s creation.

Attempting to know God with our finite minds has always been a failed attempt. The finite cannot know the infinite. It is as simple as that.

We can have glimpses of God’s infinite wisdom and love by observing His creation, and also by observing how the world, despite all the mismanagement that we, as imperfect, self-centered stewards have implemented, moves forward in terms of general prosperity, knowledge, and even ethical principles.

The only way in which we may have a better knowledge of our Creator is by letting His unconditional love become a vital part of our lives. This is what Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, came to show us in His own life. His way is the Way of Love, and His life is love-centered, instead of self-centered, so much so, that He even gave His own life for the sake of love.

Even in our intimate personal relationships, such as the ones we have in marriage, we become aware of the fact that the more we love the other person, the more we actually get to know the person.

Our relationship with our God is personal, not because the infinite Creator is a person literally speaking, but because this is the only way we, as persons, can relate to Him.

As we are known by God in love, we get to know God, not in an intellectual way, but in a close relationship in which His love becomes manifest in our own lives, and thus, in our relationships with others and the rest of creation.

Knowing something that others do not may make us feel proud, and we may even show contempt towards those who lack this knowledge. Priests and theological nerds may sometimes fall into this dangerous trap and can sometimes even hurt the simple faith of the people.

This happens when, for instance, due to popular religious beliefs, someone comes to a priest with an object they cherish to be blessed. That is not the moment to tell this person that the important thing is that they practice God’s love in their lives, and that the object they bring can do without the blessing, and it makes no difference to God.

Such an attitude will do more harm than good, because, as St. Paul warned in his First Letter to the Corinthians, “knowledge puffs, but love builds up.”

Slavery as a sanctioned institution is, of course, something of the past that we human beings must feel ashamed of.

There has recently been a trend to revisit the parts of the history of this continent and this nation, where it was common for white people to own black slaves from Africa, as a way to increase our awareness of past injustice, in the hopes that this will prevent such unjust relationships among people to occur again.

As a counterpart, there are also those historians who have pointed out the thousands of white people who were taken as slaves, particularly by the Muslims in past centuries.

Whether white or black, the possession of one person by another is not in accordance with contemporary ethical standards, and in essence it contradicts the Christian principle of the love of neighbor as oneself.

Unfortunately, there are still people in the world that suffer modern forms of slavery, such as the sexual slavery of children, teenagers, and young adults of both sexes. These are illegal, of course, but there are still parts of the world where unscrupulous people profit from such horrible practices.

In Jesus’ time slavery was a common practice. Slaves were obtained as a result of wars, or simply as a result of people not being able to pay their debts to others. There were ways of being redeemed from slavery, especially in the latter case, but not everyone was able to pay for their liberation or find a generous person who would do so for them.

In his preaching Jesus always emphasized that truth would make us free. When Jesus referred to freedom, He did not necessarily mean the state of freedom from slavery. He preached to the masses, in which there were surely a great number of servants or slaves.

Jesus was not trying to promote a slaves’ revolt so that all slaves and servants would be free. He clearly went beyond the mere concept of human bondage, and though we can be sure that Jesus would have preferred that no person would treat another as their possession, He was referring mainly to our freedom from the powers of evil, sin, and death, the one that would make us free to willingly do God’s will in our lives.

Trying to read what someone wrote in past centuries with the eyes of our contemporary perspective is a great mistake. This can lead to undue criticism of people who were simply the sons and daughters of their time, and did not have the means to undo the fabric of the socio-political system they lived in.

St. Paul, in his First Letter to the Corinthians talks about slaves and slavery. Some critics have called him a defender of slavery, but we must understand the role of slavery as a fundamental productive force of his time, and also what he really meant by his words, which should not simply be taken at face value.

Here is the paragraph that, if taken in a shallow way, and interpreted according to contemporary viewpoints, can lead us to a grave misunderstanding of Paul’s real intentions.

“Were you a slave when called? Do not be concerned about it. Even you can gain your freedom, make use of your present condition now more than ever. For whoever was called in the Lord as a slave is a freed person belonging to the Lord, just as whoever was free when called is a slave of Christ. You were bought with a price; do not become slaves of human masters.”

Is Paul favoring the institution of slavery, as some might mistakenly infer from the beginning sentences? Or is he opposing it as could be inferred from the last sentence? Neither. Paul’s main concern here is not the institution of slavery. That was taken from granted in his time. He even says, “even if you can gain your freedom”, so it seems that he thought that should always be a good goal to achieve.

But his concern here is the worst form of slavery. He is warning against becoming “slaves of human masters”, but not in a literal sense. His injunction to the new converts is to follow Christ and His liberating way of life, which is none other than the Way of Love. This is what we must all gladly and willingly become slaves for.

Christ has freed us from all false human doctrine that can lead us back to the way of fear and darkness, which is the worst form of slavery ever. Let us not be trapped by it.

Even if we may not agree with some of the tenets of the new spiritualities that have arisen in the last few decades, one positive thing we need to acknowledge about them is the concept of the sacredness of the body, including the body of the earth.

Jewish spirituality never divorced the bodily part of our nature from its spiritual part. In the story of Genesis, we read about the Creator of the Universe giving rise to this material world, and every time that He created something He said that “it was good.”

Human beings (represented in Adam, and his feminine counterpart, Eve) were created from the body of the earth (the word Adam itself comes from the Hebrew adamah, which means ground). Hebrew spirituality is not binary in the sense of separating the spiritual from the material, and giving more prominence to the latter.

Jesus’ movement was primarily a movement born in the bosom of Jewish spirituality. The belief in the resurrection (which evolved later in the Jewish thought and cannot be found in the earlier Old Testament writings) clearly referred to a resurrected body, not a disembodied entity.

In St. Paul’s letters we can find the idea of a resurrected body, which he calls “a glorified body” as a new type of body which cannot decay or be corrupted. Nevertheless, it is still a body, and not a disembodied essence, as some later Christian writers have put forward. St. Paul himself sometimes talks about this present corruptible body as being something that we should not overvalue, and there are instances in which talks about the “flesh” as something that hinders the Spirit.

What St. Paul wants to stress in such instances is that if we become the slaves of our natural instincts only, and do not train ourselves to master them through the spiritual disciplines, we can become like mere animals, and we can easily be overcome by the sinful tendencies that instincts may lead us to.

But St. Paul also understands the sacredness of this present human body which is an integral part of our being. In his First Letter to the Corinthians, he warns gravely against the sin of fornication, presenting the argument in this way: “Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ? Should I therefore take the members of Christ and make them members of a prostitute? Never!”

Even if he is aware that these temporal physical bodies will be destroyed, he declares them to be “temples of the Holy Spirit within us, which we have from God and are not our own.”

As St. Paul clearly states, “we were bought with a price” (Christ’s self-giving at the cross), so it is indeed proper and our duty that we glorify God in our bodies.

We Christians believe in a purposeful world. Contrary to what atheists proclaim about the universe and our place in the universe—as the result of random forces with no ultimate goal in the plane of existence—we believe in a universe whose ultimate goal is abundant life, and whose ultimate guidance is God’s infinite and unconditional love.

God’s love is shown in the intrinsic goodness of creation—in spite of what we may see as flaws and defects from our limited human perspective—but above all, in His plan of redemption for us and the whole of creation through His incarnate Son, who gave himself in loving sacrifice so as to show us how to live the only true abundant life worth living—a life lived in mutual loving care and, consequently, in harmony with our Creator’s purpose.

One thing that Jesus’ disciples may have had a hard time understanding at first was that His redeeming love extended to include not only those of the House of Israel, but the whole world. Though His first followers were Jews and followers of Judaism, and even Jesus Himself expressed to a pagan woman that He had come first to offer salvation to the Jews, in His Great Commission Jesus clearly sends out His disciples to baptize people in all nations, to teach them what they had received from Him, so that salvation could reach the ends of the world.

This is what Peter eventually managed to understand when he was commanded by God in a vision to go to a Roman family of believers in the New Way, and ended up baptizing them all in Jesus’ name at their request. He then clearly understood that “God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears Him and does what is right is acceptable to Him.”

Showing no partiality should never be understood as condoning every evil. There is a dangerous trend to equate inclusiveness to the condoning of every kind of behavior, no matter how contrary to God’s love it may be. We Christians believe in the forgiveness of sins by God’s unbounded love and grace, and we are constantly reminded of the need to forgive others too.

Forgiveness, however, makes no sense if there is no true repentance. What good can forgiveness do if those who do evil do nothing to change their ways and continue to live sinful lives? Our God is a loving God, but there is always a clear loving purpose in all He does. We cannot be reconciled and continue to live in an unreconciled way at the same time. That simply makes no sense at all.

Being baptized in the name of the Holy Trinity implies that we receive a new name by adoption—we are inserted into God’s family, and He gives us His own name. Just as when someone is adopted by a family that person receives the name of the family, we receive the name of God’s family at baptism.

Being baptized literally means being “immersed”. We are immersed into God’s very being at baptism, by the power of the Holy Spirit, and from that moment on we are marked as Christ’s own forever.

As we said at the beginning, we believe in a purposeful world. So baptism has a purpose for us. It is all very well to know that just as when Jesus was baptized He heard God’s voice telling Him that He was “His son, the Beloved, with whom He was well pleased.”, we are also God’s beloved and He wants us to know this every single moment of our lives.

But being God’s beloved son and daughter has some implications. It means that we are called to act as such in our lives.

When Jesus was anointed by the Holy Spirit and power at His baptism in the Jordan, He did not simply lie down in blissful joy for the great blessing and privilege He had been given. According to the Book of Acts, Peter clearly states that Jesus “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with Him.”

When we are baptized God is with us. His Holy Spirit anoints us with power, and just as Jesus did, we are urged to go about doing good and healing all who are oppressed by the powers of evil—whether evil worldly powers, or evil powers from the spiritual realms. He who empowers us will enable us, but we must make it our purpose to set out to do good.

The Cherry Tree Carol has roots in medieval mystery plays and, ultimately, an apocryphal story about the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, in which a cherry tree bows low so that Mary can gather cherries from its branches. The carol has many variants, both in text and tune. Many Anglicans will be familiar with the arrangement by David Wilcocks. The Cherry Tree Carol I know and love is an Appalachian folk version by Alice Parker and Robert Shaw. This version, uniquely, ends with Joseph asking the unborn Jesus when his birthday will be, with Jesus responding, from his mother’s womb, thus:

The sixth day of January
My birthday will be,
When the stars in the elements
Shall tremble with glee.


“When the stars in the elements shall tremble with glee.” It is a striking image, isn’t it? Stars, like little children, trembling with glee. They can hardly contain their excitement, their little bodies move and pulse with joy. And it is this image — of the stars trembling with glee at the birth of the Lord Jesus — that has prompted these reflections, which I offer on the Tenth Day of Christmas.

“The stars in the elements shall tremble with glee.” We are not accustomed to thinking of stars in this way. Views from the Webb Space Telescope may fill us with awe, but we do not imagine the stars as capable of anything analogous. But what, really, do we know of the stars? They, too, are creatures — why should they not “tremble with glee” at the Nativity of their Lord, or respond in some analogously appropriate way? After all, when the Lord laid the foundations of the earth, “the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy” (Job 38:7). And day and night “the heavens declare the glory of God,”


Although they have no words or language, and their voices are not heard,
Their sound has gone out into all lands,
and their message to the ends of the world.
(Ps. 19:1, 3–4)


Must we understand all this language to be merely figurative?

Dante spoke of “the Love that moves the sun and the other stars” (Paradiso 33.145). In speaking thus, he included himself among the creatures moved by the Lord. He wrote:

… my desire and will were moved already —
like a wheel revolving uniformly — by
the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.
(Par. 33.143–45)


If our very desires and our wills are moved by the God who is Love, then why should we imagine the movement Love causes in the stars to be constrained to movements describable by astrophysics? Is it only human creatures who cry out, in the presence of that Love, “did not our hearts burn within us” (Luke 24:32)? Might not the stars, too, burn for Love?

David Bentley Hart has written in his dreamlike Roland in Moonlight (reviewed on Covenant) of a longing “for a world that speaks,” “for a world that feels … that’s conscious and alive” (p. 53). In context, Hart — or, rather, his dog Roland (did I mention the work is dreamlike?) — is describing his “great uncle” Aloysius’s pagan beliefs, which he interprets as a response to the modern view of the cosmos as dead matter. But I think we can also say (as Hart would surely agree) that the picture of “a world that speaks, a world that feels … that’s conscious and alive” — is one closely akin to that of the Bible. Holy Scripture, we have seen, understands the whole created order as revelatory, as filled with the glory of God; a world in which every creature is at least potentially responsive (in its own way) to its Creator. Night and day, “the heavens declare the glory of God.” “The morning stars sang together” at the creation of the world. The psalmist calls on every creature to rejoice in the coming of the Lord:

Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad;
let the sea thunder and all that is in it;
let the field be joyful and all that is therein. Then shall all the trees of the wood shout for joy
before the LORD when he comes,
when he comes to judge the earth.
(Psalm 96:11–12)


In the biblical imagination, the world is full of the speech of non-human creatures. The serpent speaks. The angels speak. Balaam’s donkey protests (Num. 22:21–34). The mountains and the hills are on the verge of singing, and the trees of the fields about to burst into applause (Isa. 55:12). And, if necessary, even the stones will shout out, in praise of Christ their coming King (Luke 19:40). If this is so, might not the stars indeed tremble with glee at the birth of the Lord?

But what do we know of the stars? What matters in the end of these speculations is how we ourselves respond to the coming of our Lord. Whether we tremble before this magnum mysterium(“great mystery”) of the birth of the Lord. Whether our hearts burn within us.

Christopher Yoder
(The Rev. Christopher Yoder serves as rector of All Souls’ Episcopal Church in Oklahoma City. He is a contributor to Living Church’s Covenant blog. Fr. Carlos is on vacation this week.)

God’s incarnation appears to us Christians as one of the great mysteries of our faith. It is the great mystery of an infinite being—unconstrained by space or time, incomprehensible by the human mind—becoming a human being in the person of a vulnerable baby being born from a woman in the humblest of conditions, and ultimately giving Himself in loving sacrifice at the hands of unrighteous men, and suffering the cruelest form of death on a cross.

This is what theologians have called the kenosis, a Greek work meaning emptying. The idea is that in the act of incarnation God emptied Himself of His divine glory and came down to the level of humanity, being constrained by time and space, experiencing and suffering all that human beings suffer, and even dying in a brutally cruel way.

For many at the time of Jesus this was not only incomprehensible, but even blasphemous. To say that the divine could become human was not and is still not acceptable for the Jews (or the Muslims). In pagan religions there was the idea of the demigods, who were engendered by a divine being and a mortal human, but these were humans with some supernatural attributes, and were not seen as real incarnations of the divine.

But as great as this mystery of incarnation is, it does not seem to be the mystery that St. Paul refers to in his letter to the Romans, when he writes, “and the proclamation of Jesus Christ, according to the mystery that was kept secret for long ages but is now disclosed,…”

This mystery that Paul says was kept secret for long ages and is now disclosed is closely linked to Jesus’ proclamation itself, according to him. What may St. Paul be referring to?

It seems obvious that to know this, we need to focus our attention first and foremost in what Jesus’ proclamation was mainly about.

What Jesus spoke about and what his deeds pointed to during his time on this planet has to do with giving Himself in loving care for all. He never spoke or did anything for personal gain, not even to obtain personal fame or recognition. The signs of God’s Kingdom that He gave when he healed or brought someone back to life, or fed hungry multitudes, were all driven by a pure loving intention, and were all life-restoring and life-giving acts.

This is what his followers heard and saw Him do. This is what He taught, and if He ever had harsh words for some, it was not out of hatred for any particular person or group of persons, but to show them how wrong and conducive to real death their way was, so that they could change their ways and be saved.

What Jesus taught His disciples and what He also teaches us today, through the things His true followers wrote for all generations to follow, is that His incarnation of God’s loving will is also the aim and goal of our own lives.

God emptied Himself once of His divinity to show humanity, in the person of Jesus Christ, what the Way of His unconditional love is. But Jesus was restored to His original glory—the one He had always had with the Father—once His mission on earth was fulfilled.

In the same way, we need to empty ourselves—not of the divine glory we do not posses, but of the misleading self-centeredness that part of our human nature leads us to—so we can stop believing that we can be our own gods, and also rule over others to satisfy our whims. By so doing, we will be opening our minds and hearts to Christ’s Way of Love in our own lives, and then we will become one in intention and will with the only true and abundant life: the love-giving life that never ends.

When we celebrate God’s incarnation in a few days, let us be joyous, and grateful to God for His willingness to become Emmanuel—God with us, and let us also strive to make it possible that He may become incarnate in each of us—not literally like in the case of Mary, but in intention and will—so that ultimately one day He may become all in all, as has always been His desire from the beginning of creation.

Rose Sunday or Gaudete Sunday is here this week. It is the third Sunday of Advent, and the word rejoice or joy appears in all the readings assigned for this Sunday. The liturgical color also reminds us of the joyful expectation whose end—at least in the perspective of God made flesh in history—is drawing near as the Christmas celebration approaches.

But as we look at the world around us, the wars, the conflicts, the injustice, the lack of compassion, the hunger and poverty that plagues so many countries—and even close to home—the homeless and mentally derailed people who roam our own cities, we may wonder if we have reasons to rejoice.

Even if we are lucky enough to be among the well-to-do in this world, at this very moment we may have close relatives or friends undergoing painful diseases, or even dying.

The actual world we live in looks more like the world of Job after he was allowed by God to be tested by Satan than like God’s Kingdom of love and peace. And we may wonder, was it much better for the prophet Isaiah, or for the Apostle Paul, or even the writer of the fourth gospel?

Definitely not.

The prophets never had a smooth time. They were slandered, misunderstood, and mistreated. They did not prophesy to have a more comfortable life, but because they could simply not keep silent when God called them to speak in His name.

We all know how much St. Paul had to suffer after he was called by our Lord to evangelize the Gentiles. He suffered slanders, whippings, shipwrecks, prison, and finally death for relentlessly announcing the truth of Jesus’ Way of Love.

John the Evangelist is believed to have died of a natural death, but even he was deported and confined to an island, and had to suffer much for spreading the Good News of Salvation to all the nations.

No, the world at the time of Isaiah, and at the time after Jesus’ ascension did not look like a rose bed—even if we call this Sunday “rose Sunday”. They were convoluted times, full of suffering people, oppressed people, people who had lost all hope. And yet, Isaiah and St. Paul rejoiced and encouraged their contemporaries to rejoice.

And do they tell us what is there to rejoice for? Certainly.

Isaiah speaks about the new creation that God is about to make. In this new creation there will be no more injustice, or people dying at a young age, and weeping and distress will be no more. It will be a creation which all creatures will live in harmony, and no creatures will hurt or destroy. The image Isaiah uses is one of great poetic beauty: “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent—its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.”

Isaiah’s main reason for rejoicing is the sure hope of the new creation, so it has a future outlook, but the rejoicing is already a present reality.

St. Paul, however, sets the rejoicing in a present—or even an atemporal—perspective. He calls his readers in the First Letter to the Thessalonians to rejoice always. He is aware of how hard it is for these new converts to face the reality that surrounds them, especially now that they have embraced this New Way, and encourages them to “give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” And then he adds, “Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise the words of prophets, but test everything; hold fast to what is good; abstain from every form of evil.”

This clearly shows that the rejoicing Paul is depicting has nothing to do with a “do not worry, be happy” superficiality in these converts. He is calling them to stay firm on the right path, but, above all, to let the Spirit kindle their lives with authentic joy.

If only we pondered on Paul’s words and put them into practice today!

The theme of the Second Sunday of Advent is always the preaching of the prophets, calling us to repentance, and encouraging us to prepare the way for our salvation.

Repenting—or turning to God—is not a passive state of being at all. It must start with an overwhelming feeling of regret for our past actions, thoughts, words, or non-actions, accompanied by a sense of self-inadequacy in God’s sight, but it cannot remain there. It must necessarily spur us to a deep transformation of our lives, so that all the harm we have done—whenever possible—is compensated for, and our lives from that moment on become a better version of they are meant to be: God’s image and likeness.

This is what the repentance the prophets called the people to really meant. And John the Baptizer was a faithful follower of this prophetic call. So much so that Mark the Evangelist begins his Gospel with the words of the prophet Isaiah referring to God’s messenger calling the people to prepare the way of the Lord, and then he immediately introduces John the Baptizer and his proclamation of a baptism of repentance.

The fruits of true repentance as a way of preparing the way for the coming of God’s Reign of Love into the world are depicted in beautiful poetic images by the writer of Psalm 85: “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Truth shall spring forth from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.”

This powerful image reminds us of two lovers expressing their mutual feelings in their intimate exchange of tenderness, and it is a proper image indeed. It is in our authentic human relationships that our transformation into better versions of God’s image is truly shown.

Isaiah also uses a beautiful and tender image to show what God’s relationship to His people will be when He comes to live with them: “He will feed His flock like a shepherd; He will gather the lambs in His arms, and carry them in His bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”

And in his Second Letter the Apostle Peter reassures his readers that what they see as a “delay” in Christ’s coming to restore all things to God is nothing but His great mercy and His intent to include all in His new resurrected life. Peter states, “The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance.”

And he then addresses his readers with the following injunction—which is as valid for us today as it was for those he wrote it for: “Therefore, beloved, while you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by Him at peace, without spot or blemish, and regard the patience of our Lord as salvation.”

The first four weeks of the Church Year—the Advent Season—are usually associated with the idea of waiting, expecting, getting ready for what is to come.

The coming of Jesus Christ our Lord--into the world as God incarnate (if we look at Advent from a past-time perspective), into our lives here and now (if we see Advent from a present-time standpoint), and as the King of kings and Lord or lords in the end times (if we use an eschatological viewpoint)--is undoubtedly the subject of this first season of the Church Year.

As in every waiting time for an event, there is always a need to make preparations for what is expected. We have our money or pass ready when we are waiting for the bus. We clean and declutter our houses when we are expecting a visitor to come and stay with us. We mentally review what we are going to say while we wait for a job or other type of interview.

These are only a few examples. Practically no waiting time in this life is inert time—a time when we simply do nothing and just wait for things to occur. Even if there is no outer physical activity, there is usually a lot of mental activity going on.

Advent is meant to be the most active waiting time ever. At least, it should be.

It should be a time of the year when we actively engage in the study of Scriptures and in the prayerful reflection of them. It should be a time when we do more prayer than usual. But it should also be a time when we deeply examine our lives and get rid of all that hinders our fruitful encounter with Christ and with one another, and with the rest of creation. It is a time for making the decluttering of our lives a number-one priority.

This is the perfect time to ask ourselves, “what is in the way of having a loving relation with my Creator and with His beloved Son, our Lord?” And it is also the best time to ponder on how we can be reconciled with those we have been estranged from, due to the hardness of our hearts, and our lack of reconciling will.

The waiting character of Advent should by no means prevent us from putting into practice Jesus’ Way of Love in our lives through active loving service to those in need. On the contrary, this should constitute the best preparation we can ever have to receive Jesus in our hearts, in our whole lives, and to be ready also for the time when His reign of love becomes all in all.

This is precisely what Paul refers to in his First Letter to the Corinthians, when, at the beginning of the letter he states, “for in every way you have been enriched in Him (Christ), in speech and knowledge of every kind—just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you—so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gifts as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.”