Living Baptismally, pt 14: On the Upward Call of God in Christ

Homily offered by Father Matthew C. Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on the Seventeenth Sunday after Trinity (Proper 22), 2020.

Flowing out of our liturgical life—the Liturgy of daily Office and Mass Sunday by Sunday and the appointed Holy Days—is our Personal Devotion: our loving of God and neighbor in our day to day, and in our neighbor loving God; seeking and serving Him in all people and doing so according to the Crucified and Risen Christ revealed in Scripture. Personal Devotion is anything we do that is done for the greater glory of God, and for greater intimacy with Him. Studying Scripture and giving to the poor are the classic expressions of personal devotion, but it also includes an innumerable spectrum of activities that bring beauty and goodness into the world: a spectrum ranging from tending a garden and arranging flowers to being a responsible citizen to private prayer and meditation, to reading about the lives of the Saints, to donate time, talent and treasure to a charitable organization, to serving the lonely, to being a good listener, a good husband, a good wife, a good parent, a good teacher, a good person when that adjective “good” always means “loves God” before it means anything else.

“Personal devotion” is described in the New Testament, in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, as “continuing in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship”—the activity of studying the apostolic proclamation of Christ which is captured in Scripture, and living out that proclamation in Christian community where love for all abounds, and hospitality our primary characteristic. In the overall Christian life, personal devotion flows out of the Liturgy of Office and Mass, and is anything we do in this world and in our lives out of a desire to love God and love neighbor.

This is what Saint Paul is teaching us today, when he says “I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” Paul’s guidance is to seek a robust personal devotion based on how the Holy Spirit calls each of us personally—that is, according to our personal characteristics, temperament, life situation, background, gifts; in short, according to our personality. We are all members of Christ’s Body, members one of another in Him, but we never lose our personality, our uniqueness, our story—we do not lose our identity, but what is transformed is the horizon of our identity. In our baptism, our commonwealth, our citizenship, is stretched to heaven. This is a citizenship that begins in the Cross, and all of reality becomes cross-shaped. Reality is cruciform, that is, of the form of the Cross.

This is why when we confess our sins in the Liturgy we express our desire for mercy and forgiveness, that we may delight in God’s will and walk in God’s ways. We must be accustomed to reality which is cruciform, reality in the form of the Cross. This is why we receive Eucharist, why we receive Holy Communion—for we must be accustomed to reality which is cruciform. This is why we celebrate the Liturgy of Office and Mass according to the Kalendar—for doing so accustoms us to the Cross. All temptation we face is ultimately a temptation away from the Cross, and turned away from the Cross, we are enemies of the Cross in Paul’s guidance. To be an enemy of the Cross is to live in purely worldly ways, to live as if our only citizenship is this world, and to order our lives around the values of this world—of wealth, of power, of possession.

True Christian spirituality, as Saint Paul teaches along with all of the other Saints, is based on our heavenly citizenship through Baptism—and indeed as Paul teaches to the Corinthians, in being a steward of the sacramental mysteries of Christ. When we live that way—summarized as Liturgy with personal devotion—we are living in the vineyard of God prepared for us. When our devotion to God flows forth from liturgical prayer, we are living in the Kingdom of God given to us—given to us to be stewards of the Sacraments, stewards of sacramental mysteries, stewards of God’s vineyard the bears the fruit of eternal and everlasting life; fruit that come of our hands, God ever working through our hands, through our words, through our deeds—fruit of beauty and goodness, that others may taste and see the goodness of the Lord. Let us press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ that in our personal devotion, we bear such fruit.

On Being a Sacrament of Hope

Homily offered by Father Matthew C. Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on the Third Sunday in Lent, 2020.

We have no power of ourselves to help ourselves. We hear these words in our Collect, and for many of us these might be difficult words to hear, difficult words to take seriously, difficult words, that is, to believe. Of course I have power to help myself, we might think to ourselves. I can be a responsible person; I can live morally; I can take care of my family and provide for them as I am able; I can clean up my room and my house; I can cook and clean; my gosh, I can dress myself; I can read books or whatever in order to improve my mind; I can make sure I am in relationship with others in case I need their help, or they need mind. What do you mean, holy Mother Church, that we have no power of ourselves to help ourselves? Has God given me nothing?

And of course, God has given us the faculties to help ourselves, in all those ways I just listed. And we are to use them, use them as best we are able, even when it hurts. And we are to remember that God has given them to us. God has given us bodies to live in; God has given us morals towards which to aspire; God has given us a sense of responsibility to our family members; God has given us hands and legs to do the cleaning and cooking; God has given us a mind, and He has given us a conscience. And underneath it all, God has given us the very reality of love—true love, what is called charity, self-less giving of oneself for others. And He has given us His peace, which is what His love feels like when it is received. We have no power of ourselves to help ourselves because the power of peace and love by which the world even exists comes only from God.

Through our faith—that is, living relationship with God—we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, is what Saint Paul teaches us. Through Him, Paul continues, we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we rejoices in our hope of sharing the glory of God. Through our faith, our living relationship, we participate in the redemptive Body of Jesus Christ; and through Him, we have obtained access to the grace by which we stand—and, Paul might have added to elaborate—the grace by which we breath, the grace by which we move, the grace by which we think, the grace by which we listen and pray and love and sleep and serve. This grace is called by Jesus “living water,” and the living water has been poured into our hearts. If we would drink of it, let us not harden our hearts, brothers and sisters.

Although our translation of scripture is often very good, the translation of the beginning of our lesson from Saint John does not quite capture the sense of the original. It reads that Jesus, wearied as He was with His journey, sat down beside the well. No—it is literally that Jesus sat down not beside the well, but that Jesus sat down on the well. The water of the well, in other words, is no longer the water that truly quenches thirst. Rather, Jesus is the Temple, the Temple is His Body, and the living water flows through the Temple which is Him.

His sitting upon it is deeply symbolic, in that His doing so recapitulates, or sums up, all of the well-scenes of Scripture: Isaac’s servant and Rebekah in Gen 24; Jacob and Rachel in Gen 29; Moses and Zipporah in Ex 2. And note, too, each of these well scenes have something to do with marriage, as does this scene with Our Lord. Living relationship with Jesus means marriage to Him, Who is the Bridegroom, and the Church His Bride; and this is the deepest meaning of baptism: through the waters, we are married to God. And there is symbolism in the location. On this mountain where the well is, is where Abraham sacrificed Isaac, where Jacob had his vision, and where God revealed Himself to Moses. Images of Christ nailed to the Cross often have at the very bottom of the Cross a mountain—it is all one well of grace, it is all one mountain of pilgrimage. By His holy Cross has Christ redeemed the world.

And note as well that it is the Samaritan women who so shares the Gospel with her people that her people believe in Jesus through her. She has no power of herself to help herself or help her people find Truth—but Jesus works through her, being fully present in her proclamation of Him.

Brothers and sisters, what are we to make of all this? In this time of plague and uncertainly, we are to make of it this: in our love for others, Christ makes Himself known through us. The living waters that flow between Him and the Father flow through us in our service to the lonely. We have no power of ourselves to help the world—but when we recognize that, we have at our disposal the power of heaven, the living power of God Almighty, His heavenly peace and love. Let us be this Sacrament of Hope for the world.

On the Peace of Christ

Homily offered by Father Matthew C. Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on the First Sunday after Christmas, 2019.

It was the theme of my sermon for Christmas Eve to focus on the gift of peace God has given us with the birth of Christ. But to properly receive the gift—which means, ultimately, to order our lives around the gift that has been given, which is the Peace of Christ—and furthermore, in a real sense, embody the gift of peace so much so that we can in our lives—our words and deeds, our relationships with close friends as well as passing acquaintances, and with the countless many more with whom we exchange little more than hello and a smile—that we can in our lives that are embodying the Peace of Christ pass the same Peace on to others; that we can to a lonely world exchange the Peace of Christ and warm the hearts of the lonely—because when the Peace of Christ is present, a person (even if alone) is no longer lonely; to properly receive the Gift of Peace, we have to understand what the Christian faith means by Peace. Then we can share it.

When the Peace of Christ is present, in their hearts the previously person sings along with the prophet Isaiah, “I will greatly rejoice in the Lord, my soul shall exult in my God; for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation, He has covered me with the robe of righteousness.” I do not mean actually says those words, but expresses their meaning in whatever sense their heart is warmed by the presence of Christ’s Peace. The documentary footage, for example, that captured people dying on the streets of Calcutta in India yet who were loved by Saint Teresa—we see in their faces and hear in their voices, despite their dying, sickly bodies, them proclaiming the good news of a great joy: the same good news of a great joy proclaimed by the Angel Gabriel to the shepherds keeping watch over their fields on the night of Christ’s birth. Those persons, the poorest of the poor, exude the peace of Christ, because they have received the peace of Christ through the Outreach ministry of Saint Teresa and her sisters. Saint Teresa and her sisters embody the peace of Christ, and because of that, and only because of that, are they able to pass the gift of Christ’s peace on to those they meet and serve.

But still, what is the Christian meaning of Peace? Some say, it is not the absence of war and strife, but the presence of love. And there is truth to that. But what is this presence of love for Christians? The presence of love for Christian is the presence of love that we read in the Scriptures and in the Gospels that Christ Himself demonstrates. The word “love” for us is better understood as “caritas,” from which our word “charity” derives. It is selfless love of a person, Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, voluntarily going to His death for the sins of the whole world. Peace is the presence of this selfless giving of oneself for the world. It is this presence of selflessness that we must have in our hearts if we are to so embody Peace as to give it to others.

And the Nativity of Christ radically illustrates this. “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life,” we hear in Saint John. Let us lift up our hearts to this, brothers and sisters! This Son given to the world is He through Whom all things have been made, this holy Child. This Son given to the world is He Who is the Light that enlightens every man coming into the world, this holy Child. This Son given to the world is He who creates equality of honour between heaven and earth, a way up for all those below to things above. Nothing done by God from the beginning of time was more beneficial to all or more divine than Christ’s nativity.

And the benefits are found when we meditate upon the festival of Christmas. The benefits are found when we quietly sit in contemplation of God’s mighty acts, beginning with the fact that the Eternal Word of God became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth. Let us meditate on this mystery of the Nativity of Christ, that we may imitate what it contains and obtain what the Angels promise: Peace, good will among men.

On Knowing that Our Redeemer Lives

Homily offered by Father Matthew C. Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on the Twenty-First Sunday after Trinity, 2019.

“I know my Redeemer lives,” Job proclaims to his interlocutors. Indeed, he is pleading to them. Immediately preceding this passage, Job says, “Have pity of me, have pity on me, O you my friends, for the hand of God has touched me! Why do you, like God, pursue me?” Job has become repulsive to his wine, loathsome to his relatives. All his intimate friends abhor him, and those who once loved him have turned against him. Physically he is a shell of himself, for his bones cleave to his skin and to his flesh. He feels alienated from the world, he feels a profound estrangement. He feels lost—and perhaps some of us have experienced something of this deep alienation, estrangement, and lostness.

There are some commentators on the Book of Job—which if you have never read or have not read recently, would make for excellent reading and prayer during Advent—who detect throughout the book a semi-obscured sense of creeping Pride on the part of Job, such that because of his Pride, if indeed he displays it in the story, would be occasion for God’s wrath upon him. But there is far from consensus among interpreters on this point. By my lights, Job is how he was described by God himself: a servant of God, none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil. And so what befalls him is simply a test from God. God allows these difficulties to occur, even invites Satan in the opening sequences of the book to have at it, try to turn Job from me. I do not think you will succeed, but do not believe me, God is saying, see for yourself.

Why does God allow Satan to make life difficult for Job? It is because God trusts Job to be able to handle the burdens and remain faithful to God. And so why does God allow difficulties to come upon us in our life? It is for the same reason: He trusts us that we can handle the burdens, and no matter how onerous and challenging our circumstances, that we are capable of remaining faithful. God, our loving God Almighty, made us in His image and likeness. Because of our tendency toward selfishness portrayed in the sin of Adam and Eve in the Garden, our active likeness to God—that is our virtuous life of faith, hope, and charity—is disfigured and distorted and without God’s grace is lost to us. But we have never lost God’s image in us. Despite our sinfulness, we are God’s image. The Greek word for image is “icon.” So we are the icon of God.

And because of that, God trusts that we can endure. God trusts that when we fall, we will turn to Him and by His grace stand up again. God believes that, when we find ourselves in such a bad place that we wonder will I ever get out of this? Is this as good as it gets?—that His love for us will overcome our darkness; that His love for us will be a light leading us from the dead end; that His love for us will give us the sense of direction that leads us back to Him.

And why? Because our God is not God of the dead, but of the living, as our Lord Jesus taught the Sadducees. All live to Him, He taught. The impulse to live to God is part of the image He gave us that we can never lose. The spark to hunger and thirst for righteousness—that is, hunger and thirst for right relationship with God—is part of the image He gave us that we can never lose. God, our God, our wonderful God, knows that His love wins, because His love must win—His love is heavenly. His love is mercy. His love is true healing. His love is true nourishment. His love is true peace and unity of the heavenly city where the triune God lives and reigns.

God knows that if we want to live, we will find Him, either in this life or the next life to come. Being His image—being His icon—by His grace we will seek to be reformed back into His likeness: that, we He shall appear again with power and great glory, we may be made like unto Him in His eternal and glorious kingdom.

On the Prodigal Son and Love

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on The Fourth Sunday in Lent, 2019.

The parable of the prodigal son is the third of four parables told by our Master, our Lord Jesus. The occasion for his teaching with these parable was the fact that tax collectors and other sinners were drawing closer and closer to Jesus so that they could hear Him. Christ’s message is an infectious one—His teaching is magnetic; even His presence draws people in who are walking in darkness because He is the true light, which lighteth every person who comes into the world. It is only by our intimacy with Jesus that we are able by grace to cut through our delusions and gain true self-knowledge.

Because tax collectors and other sinners were drawn to Jesus, Saint Luke tells us that Pharisees and the scribes murmured. And not only did they murmur (which in and of itself can be sinful, because of the harm it can cause within the Christian community), but we know what they said: “This man receives sinners and eats with them.” Jesus was ruffling the feathers of proper society of His day; He was breaking social conventions—He was hanging out with the “wrong people,” those people. That He was receiving them means Jesus was truly present to them, listening to them, honoring their dignity (because they were made also in His likeness, He was honoring, we must remember, His presence in them), and seeking to serve them—because Jesus came not to be served but to serve. That He ate with them indicates to us true and complete fellowship—to eat with others means companionship and total welcome. Fundamental to the attractiveness Jesus exudes is His hospitality.

That Jesus was so lavish in His giving of Himself in love was the teaching He wanted to impart to His disciples. Each of the four parables teaches about love—the parable of the lost sheep, the parable of the lost coin, the parable of the prodigal son, and the parable of the dishonest steward: all about love. But this is most dramatically brought out by the parable of the prodigal son.

The father in the parable is so eager to love his son gone astray that when the son even was at a distance, the father came to Him. He ran and embraced him and kissed him. He did not scold him, or harbor a grudge against him, or make the son jump through some hoop before sharing his love. He just loved him and ordered a feast with the fatted calf be held in honor of his return. Let us run to the lonely in our homes and neighborhoods and workplaces; run to them and embrace and kiss them with our presence, our attention, our selfless care.

The prodigal son is also an example of love, we must also see. He too is also eager to love, but his ability to love selflessly is buried under his sin and shame at having wasted the gift that he was given. Instead of using the gift he was given for the glory of God, he used it toward idolatry. And so his love for his father is first expressed as a selfish love for himself, so that he could live at least at the level of his father’s hired servants. His father does not care—and indeed our heavenly Father does not care either: God can work with any kind of desire for Him, even if it is first expressed as selfish desire—and slowly turn a selfish heart into a selfless heart. Whatever kind of contrition we might have, bring it to God; give it all to Him.

And other son, he is jealous. He loves his father out of pure duty—but pure duty is not enough. We must love for the joy of loving. The other son must learn joy by the grace of God, and perhaps the father’s extravagance towards the first son is intended also as a lesson to the second son—much like Jesus’s extravagance towards tax collectors and sinners was a lesson in loving intended not only for them, but for His disciples watching Him, that they would learn how to love.

Mother Teresa taught the world that this is what Jesus came to do: to teach us how to love. In order to love others in the example of Jesus, and that example is described in the Bible, and as that example is replicated in the lives of the Saints—in order to love we must realize how profoundly we ourselves are loved by God. Our lives are always in His hands—and is daily, ongoing love for us goes as deep as keeping us in existence moment to moment, breath by breath. He loves us like a mother loves her son—like Mary loves Jesus. No matter how often we have sinned, we turn to God and we are loved by Him—He receives us and eats with us: so much so that He gives Himself to us as the true bread which giveth life to the world.

And in knowing how much we are loved, we are able to love others with the joy that we are loved by Jesus. And so let us again imitate the father in the parable, who is the image of God’s love for us: let us run to the lonely men, women, and children among us in Tazewell County. Let us bring out best selves to them: and make merry and be glad.

Homily: “On Love Itself as Understanding”

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County on the Sixth Sunday after Trinity (Seventh Sunday after Pentecost), 2018. Our Collect today invites our prayer to a profound truth, despite its wording being rather commonplace, and even cliche. It begins with these words: “O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor.” What this reflects is the fact that knowledge and love are all the same—that, for Christians, love itself is understanding (William of St Thierry, Exposition on the Song of Songs, 57.) What we do, our actions, our behavior, our prayer, must, if it is going to be Christian action, Christian behavior, Christian prayer, live out our beliefs. Our words that profess what we believe throughout the Liturgy of the Church, whether in Mass or daily Offices, have to find expression in our bodily actions—concretely, actually, and palpably. For us, taught by Jesus Christ and learning within the fellowship of the Church, knowledge and love are all the same: Love itself is understanding. Read more “Homily: “On Love Itself as Understanding””

Homily: “On the Final Judgment”

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County, on the Feast of Christ the King (Proper 29, Year A), 2017.

We celebrate today the Feast of Christ the King, of Him who has put all things in subjection under His feet. Our King of kings and Lord of lords desires to bring His most gracious rule to the hearts of all people. In order for that to happen, the eternal Son of God took the human flesh of His mother, Blessed Mary, and over the course of His earthly life taught people what it means to pray. And in teaching people how to pray, He taught them how to act. And in teaching people how to act, He taught them how to love. And in teaching people how to love, He created the conditions in which His gracious rule comes to the hearts of all people, for the King of Creation always comes to us in love.

He came to us in love so that in love we would go out to others, bringing His love with us in our hearts, that it would touch the hearts of all people we meet. And then, when separation from Him inevitably creeps in, He taught us to return to Him to be replenished through the Scriptures and especially through the Blessed Sacrament of His Body and Blood—so that filled with Him we can again fill others with His love, and in Christ be made alive.

To call Jesus “King” is to recognize and affirm that He is the leader of a new kind of humanity. Jesus Himself was new, and His actions never before seen, and so His followers are to continue and perpetuate a new way of being human, indeed a fulfillment of what it means to be human, to be truly alive. Throughout the course of human history prior to the Incarnation, to be human meant living under the constraints of ancestral line, family line, and tribal line. If you were not born with the right ancestors, or into the right family or tribe, you were shunned and were not allowed to participate in regular society, and therefore you were not allowed to live to your highest potentials. Jesus is the King of a new kind of humanity; His kingdom is based rather on hearing the word of God and keeping it, doing it, and pondering it in our hearts.

This is a universal invitation extended to all creatures. For us to proclaim the Gospel, to love Him and serve Him with gladness and singleness of heart, to bear witness to Him in word and deed, means that we extend this invitation to others, an invitation to the banquet of love hosted by the King of kings and Lord of lords. And so we are to seek the lost, bring back the strayed, bind up the crippled, strengthen the weak. We are to feed people with justice, because Christ works through us to do the feeding. We are to teach the world righteousness by being ourselves righteous. To do so, we are to exhibit the saintly qualities Jesus taught in His sermon on the mount: we are to be poor in spirit, mournful, meek, hungering for righteousness, merciful, pure in heart, seeking peace, and creative amid obstacles.

It is remembering these qualities that Jesus demands of us that has led the Church in see the deepest meaning of our Gospel lesson, often called simply, “The Judgement.” We often think that the instructions to feed the hungry, replenish the thirsty, welcome the stranger, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned are instructions given by Jesus to His disciples. Disciples are expected to do these things, and there is no better contemporary example of that than Saint Theresa of Calcutta (Mother Teresa). Yet the instruction of Jesus is not here to His disciples, but to the Gentiles outside the inner circles. The “least of these my brethren” refers to Christians, not merely anyone in need. Elsewhere in Saint Matthew’s Gospel, “least” and “little” refer to vulnerable members of the Christian community (those who are poor in spirit, meek, and the rest of the saintly attributes).

And so Jesus is teaching the criteria by which non-Christians (which at the time also meant non-Jews) could enter the kingdom of heaven. It is through their good works, based on how they, non-Christians, treat the members of the Christian community. They will be rewarded for their good deeds and works done to strangers and needy people.

Christians also will be rewarded for our good works and deeds. Yet let us see that if this teaching is extended to non-Christians, the teaching for us is all the more fundamental and basic. Mission, then, is not an optional aspect of Christian life. Mission is not something some Christian communities or persons do, but not others. If even non-Christians are taught the good works and deeds of feeding the hungry, quenching the thirsty, welcoming the stranger, clothing the naked, and visiting the imprisoned, then to be Christian in the authentic and original sense is to do such things as easily and as naturally as we breathe, eat, and feel.

Homily: “On the Parable of the Talents”

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman, Obl.S.B., for the Parish of Tazewell County, on the Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 28, Year A), 2017.

Last Sunday we heard the Parable of the Ten Maidens, and today we hear about the Parable of the Talents. Our eyes are being directed toward the coming of the Lord, the Christian term for which is a Greek word, Parousia. This is the end and fulfillment of the whole history of salvation. What Saint Matthew in his Gospel intends with these parables is not that we should evade the present, but rather, to help us to live fully in the light of the completion of the history of salvation. We do not know when the end will come, but that it will is essential to ancient, Catholic faith, as we confess in our Creed: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”

Indeed, the Lord will come. Read more “Homily: “On the Parable of the Talents””

Homily: “On Serving God in Others”

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman for the Parish of Tazewell County, on the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 18, Year A), 2017.

Let us hear words from the Book of Proverbs: “Toward the scorners he is scornful, but to the humble He shows favor.” Those words from the end of chapter 3 form the basis for our Collect this week. It is an ancient Collect, dating at least from the 7th century. Through the workings of translations over the centuries, that proverb shows up in our Collect as, “As you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy.”

This also shows up in the Epistle of James as a succinct and useful summary: “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” The proud have closed themselves off from God—God does not love them any less, but the proud have opposed themselves to God in their self-centeredness. We cannot be self-centered if we hope to enjoy God’s grace, and be led by grace in our lives. This is why we ask in our Collect for God to give us the ability to trust in Him with all our hearts—trusting in Him in a way that leaves nothing out; trusting in Him in a way whereby we give ourselves, our bodies as a living sacrifice to God. Toward the scorners He is scornful, but to the humble He shows favor. Read more “Homily: “On Serving God in Others””

Homily: “On Bringing a Sword”

Offered by Father Matthew Dallman for the Parish of Tazewell County, on the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost (Year A), 2017.

Having celebrated and savored a remarkable sequence of events in the life of the holy Church—the Day of Pentecost, Trinity Sunday, Corpus Christi and then the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist—we move into the Sundays of Ordinary time, or to use something of an invented turn of phrase, “Ordinarytide.” Up until Pentecost, the emphasis in the Church has been on the Incarnation of Our Lord Jesus Christ, an emphasis that began back in the Sundays in Advent. We prayed for His coming, and over the course of roughly half a year, we experienced again His coming: His taking of human flesh, His blessing of sacred humanity, His breaking of Himself on the Cross, and His giving of Himself through the Sacraments and through the gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Now, over the course of the last several Sunday celebrations, the emphasis has shifted from the Incarnation of Jesus onto the Holy Trinity. Basically until Advent, we will be focusing on how the Church itself lives into the reality of the Holy Trinity, indeed we can say, how the Church itself has a trinitarian nature. The Church is the Body of Christ, Jesus is God, and God is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit: God is trinitarian, and so the Church is as well. This is to emphasize something very important to our daily lives as Christians in a fallen but redeemed world: the Church itself is not a social club, but a divine organism. It is a visible institution, made by and of Christ, and its essence is holiness. Read more “Homily: “On Bringing a Sword””