Homilies - August 2010

Select a homily to read:
Twenty Second Sunday of the Year: August 29, 2010 by Fr. Simon
Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary: August 15, 2010 by Fr. Christopher
Nineteenth Sunday of the Year: August 9, 2010 by Fr. Joseph
Eighteenth Sunday of the Year: August 1, 2010 by Fr. Hilary
Eighteenth Sunday of the Year: August 1, 2010 by Fr. Joseph

Twenty Second Sunday of the Year

  • August 29, 2010
  • by Fr. Simon
  • Simple Profession of Brother Ignacio Gonzales
  • Sirach 3:17-18, 20, 28-29
  • 1 Peter 5:5b-11
  • Luke 14:1, 7-14


Stability is giving thanks to God for calling us to this Holy Ground.
Conversion of Life is walking in a new way, the way of the Lord, towards his Kingdom. Obedience is what we do for each other in imitation of Christ unto the end.

Br. Ignacio, it’s been a hard novitiate, hasn’t it? Harder than boot-camp? But you wouldn’t have missed it for anything, would you? And it gets harder doesn’t it?

Today’s Gospel is all about taking the lowest place and that you should be pretty used to by now. But the thrill is that it does allow for your being invited to take higher place when appropriate whereas, as Jesus points out, assume the highest place and you can only go down in shame. Well, that may not seem to have much relevance to you right now but it is all a reflection of the day-to-day humility which Jesus expects of us, following his example.

“My child conduct your affairs with humility”, says Ben Sirach, the wisdom writer this morning. Well, Br. Ignacio you will have been doing a lot of reading on humility during your recent retreat at Berryville so you will not need much further instruction. Indeed, henceforth you will be a model to all of us. There’s nothing so spiritually fresh as a novice, straight from monastic boot-camp. I’m sure my brethren will agree as they reflect back on their own novitiates.

The book of Ben Sirach, like the book of proverbs, harks back frequently to this theme of instruction in the ways of God, what is known in the psalm as “walking in his paths”, that is how our Old Testament brethren advanced towards the heaven of which they were ignorant, without sacraments, without knowledge of Christ, they walked scrupulously in the paths of the Lord. And I have no doubt that very many of them made it.

Monastic life is a bit like that. We now have Christ, we have the church, we have the sacraments but we are not absolved from walking in the paths of the Lord. Only, for us it is easier, because we know more clearly who our Lord is and which are his ways, for he himself said, “I am the way the truth and the life”. Yet despite knowing that, despite knowing which way to go, we can somehow and so often get it wrong. Something inside us tells us to try another way, a short cut, a more interesting way, the scenic route. Do we not hear ringing in our ear those words of Benedict, the very opening of his Rule, “Listen my son”, for you are no longer a child, not at 42 anyway, but you are a son. You are always a son, like Jesus, you are son of the Father and in a mysterious way you are, as St. Benedict says, son of the Christ and son of him who holds the place of Christ in the monastery.

Monastic life looks back at our forefathers walking in the paths of God and says, “I have Christ, I have the church, I have the sacraments, with these and only with these I can walk perfectly and humbly before my God”. Monastic life also looks forward for that must be the direction in which we are walking. We do not mark time here. If, filled with Christ, the church and the sacraments we are still marking time, we are in fact dead, like our fathers who ate manna in the desert.

Humility is itself the key to progress in the spiritual life. Our text goes on: “Humble yourself the more, the greater you are and you will find favor with God – that is, you will grow greater spiritually and monastically. There is a warning line, however, which echoes Adam’s fault: “What is too sublime for you, seek not”.

St. Benedict’s opening to his Holy Rule is couched not so much in the words of Ben Sirach as in those of the Book of Proverbs where the author repeatedly addresses you and me as “My Son”. Hear my son your father’s instructions – well, I’m sure that was second nature to you once, and he goes on, “and reject not your mother’s teaching”. In a very real way, by virtue of having changed you stability, those roles are passed on to others: you father is your superior, your mother is the community. I am sure that in your obedience at home you grew from childhood fear to filial respect. Heaven knows what the Marines did for you but here filial respect continues as the order of the day but must grow and flourish into complete love of your brethren.

Your own chosen text from the end of St. Peter’s first letter is very significant. “Likewise, you younger members” – there you are boasting again – “be subject to the presbyters” – that’s us. But then Peter comes in straightaway, “clothe yourselves in humility in your dealing with one another. And echoing Jesus’ saying in the Gospel, he adds, “So humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that he may exalt you in due time. Then he mentions someone called the Devil who roams about. I think we’ve met this one, even in monasteries – indeed, may I say especially in monasteries – as our fathers of the desert well knew in 210, even so now in monasteries of 2010. You see, God never set up places on earth where the devil would not roam, temptation-free zones. No, St. Peter reminds us that “our fellow believers throughout the world undergo the same sufferings”, so why not us?

Now this homily is not meant to be all about you, Br. Ignacio. It is just that you are a convenient role-model for this morning. One day, please God, some other guy will walk in your footsteps and you will be chuckling at him. But this homily is for all present, as were the readings. Most of you are regular worshippers here, many are oblates, most of you have some firm connection with this monastery. Anything I say which could be of importance for the Br. Ignacio and for the monks present is also important for you because in a very real way you are also seeking God, seeking to “walk in his paths”, through a Benedictine medium, if I may put it that way.

So what about this banquet we heard about in the Gospel. That’s not some snack in the Fort Augustus room but a grand scale dinner, to which we are all invited. Indeed, we are already at it, and it’s delicious, isn’t it. We’ve almost done tasting of the Word; soon we’ll be tasting of the main course, the body and blood of Christ. But we are not ready yet because we still have some jostling for positions to do, at least in our minds. Are you comfortable with the neighbor you have ended up with, is the seat to your liking, can you see what’s going on or is there a lady with a large hat in the way or in some places a pillar? Then as the banquet goes on, “Oh I wouldn’t have done the flowers like that, why isn’t he wearing a tie, just look at that dress, I ask you. Oh Brother, do you mind if I just take that speck out of your eye, it must be so painful. Father, I think that’s my job, if you don’t mind, Calls himself a manager – he couldn’t manage a bicycle. Meanwhile the soup course is going cold. Really you would have had more peace of mind if you had not come but had allowed the master of the house to invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, the people who cannot measure up to any of your gifts, your talents, your sense of direction.

Then Christ comes in and points out the obvious: that we are the poor, the blind, the lame, the marginalized. How many times does St. Benedict quote Matthew 25, “As long as you did it to one of these least of my brethren you did it to me”, so now in return, says Jesus, I’m going to wash your feet. You won’t like it because you’ve got your values all upside down, but try to accept it… this once. Then you can go and wash your brother’s feet forever afterwards.

Fr. Simon McGurk
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Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary

  • August 15, 2010
  • by Fr. Christopher
  • Revelation 11:19; 12:1-6, 10
  • 1 Cor 15:20-26
  • Luke 1:39-56

Indeed the Lord has done great things for Mary. All generations rightly call her blessed especially on this solemnity of her assumption into heaven.

It was only 60 years ago that in an Apostolic Constitution dated November 1, 1950, Pope Pius XII defined as a dogma of our faith what the church had always and everywhere believed and celebrated with great joy, today’s solemnity. He defined it in this way: “The immaculate mother of God, the ever-virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” As the Pope noted in that Constitution there is no canonical scriptural account of this happening at the end of Mary’s life. Its veracity is based on arguments of its fittingness with all the other dogmas of our faith concerning her; namely, God’s preservation of her from sin in her Immaculate Conception, her perpetual virginity concomitant with her being the mother of the incarnate Son of God, and her intimate union with her son in his mission and passion. It is indeed fitting that the body of so privileged a mortal should not experience corruption.

Like the Deuteronomic description of Moses’ death on Mt. Nebo, with the comment “but no one knows the place of his burial”, for Mary there is no tradition of any revered site of the burial of her mortal remains. In the eastern church the pious story told is that the apostles came together around her deathbed at her home in Ephesus and that they all witnessed the disappearance of her body at her dormition, when she fell asleep.

Unlike the prophet Elijah, she was not said to have been taken up in a whirlwind of fire. The seer of the book of Revelations gives us that mixed imagery of the church both as a woman clothed with the sun and also in the pangs of childbirth, giving birth to one destined to rule the world. In time the picture of the woman “clothed with the sun, the moon and stars was applied to Mary, who has a special role in sharing the church’s destiny. The image has been frequently used in depicting her assumption. We can use the gift of our imagination to envision in other ways what might have taken place when this happened nearly two thousand years ago.

What did the angels and pure spirits of heaven think? They must have been astonished enough when Jesus, the Son of God-made-man, having completed his mission on earth returned to heaven clothed in a human body glowing with the glory he had from the beginning. Now, there comes another one, of that human nature only. She shares that nature originally made in God’s likeness and afterwards tarnished by the rebellious and disobedient deeds of its owners, incurring God’s wrath. The angels must have marveled at what had happened to exempt this beautiful new Eve of the exile from God’s presence.

What did Mary think, say or do? I asked this question rhetorically once when celebrating this feast with a small congregation, and shared my own pious thoughts. Afterwards a woman came to me and said she knew what Mary would have said. I asked: “What?” She answered that it is natural for any mother, especially a Jewish mother, to take pride in her children’s achievements, so she imagined that seeing her Son seated in the highest place of honor at the throne of God Mary exclaimed: “That’s my boy!”

The Jewish artist Ernst Fuchs, a convert, imagined it differently from the static images of Mary floating up to heaven on the hands of cherubs. In his painting The Assumption of Mary she is depicted dancing ecstatically before Jesus, like David before the ark. Jesus is standing crowned and gowned as the High Priest with the Shield of David as a breastplate. From his outstretched hands streams of glory flow onto Mary’s head. Her dress and shawl swirl about her body throwing off darts of fire as she dances with abandon. The picture hardly contains within its frame, as someone said, her sheer, unrestrainable joy.

What did Jesus think? Would he not have been captivated by the surety of her faithful trust in the word spoken to her, by the beauty of her holiness, and by the artfulness of her free-spirit. Surely he was delighted enough to decide to offer her his whole kingdom. Imagine him saying to himself that he would keep his own commandment to honor father and mother. “I will make her Queen of this heavenly court, even of the whole of my creation.”

And what is our response to the sure knowledge of such divine favor and privilege given to the handmaiden of the Lord? I think we have the right to be proud that one of our own, Mary, like us in all but sin, has become the second fruits, to use Paul’s metaphor, of the saving work of Jesus her son. Like Elizabeth at the visitation, might we not feel our spirit leap with joy at the sound of her words in our ear. For me, two of the most powerful words attributed to Mary in the scriptures are from the annunciation scene and from the wedding feast at Cana: “Let it be done to me as you say” is an expression of total trust in God’s word and his power to do what he plans and promises. In listening to her instruction to the waiters: “Do whatever he tells you” she turns my attention to the source of her own holiness and faithfulness, her son Jesus, my Lord and my savior.
If many of the saints, like Teresa of the Child Jesus and Blessed Teresa of Calcutta, believed and said that when they got to heaven they would be able to do more for those who sought their aid than they could while here on earth, how much more should we not believe that Mary in heaven can and does do far more for the members of her Son’s body, the church, than she could while limited to time and place in her earthly life. Indeed she has and continues to do so through many apparitions and messages witnessed throughout the world in the two millennia since her death. From the Cross Jesus asked his mother to accept John as her son in his place. If we let John stand in for us then we too are her children. And Jesus asks us to accept and honor her as our mother.

By pondering and meditating on the deepest meaning of the few words attributed to, or said about, Mary in the scriptures we may come to understand and appreciate even more the role God has assigned to her in his plan for the salvation of all mankind. We can find in her that woman of strong faith, deep humility, magnanimous compassion and powerful intercession who will aid and inspire us in our journey, seeking one day to be with her and her Son in glory. May our devotion and dedication to Mary assist us in offering fitting honor, glory, praise and thanksgiving to the all Holy Trinity, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, now and forever. AMEN.

Fr. Christopher Wyvill
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Nineteenth Sunday of the Year

  • August 9, 2010
  • by Fr. Joseph
  • Wisdom 18:6-9
  • Heb. 11:1-2,8-19
  • Luke 12:32-48

One of my favorite books for material for meditation might surprise you. It doesn’t mention God or heaven or hell or prayer or theology. It is called The Extravagant Universe, and it is by Robert B. Kirshner, a professor science at Harvard University. I don’t mean that I sit and read it and meditate on its pages, but the much of its content leads me to reflect on the reality that is God. The very adjective he uses, “extravagant,” is normally used of a human person; one of the dictionary definitions is “profuse in expenditure; prodigal; wasteful,” and I think the author really is thinking about God in applying the term to the universe.

Just reflect that the universe consists of tens of billions of galaxies, each consisting of billions (in some cases hundreds of billions) of stars, many of them dwarfing our sun in size and mass. I mean, who needs that many stars? Certainly in this case God is being extravagant, prodigal. And notice the way the universe was formed. God could have just put all the stars and planets out there at one fell swoop. But then people could believe, as atheists, or at least some atheists, do, that matter is eternal–it always existed and therefore here is no need to explain its origin. However, scientists are now convinced that the universe did have a beginning, about 13.8 billion years ago (give or take a hundred million years). and from that point they call “the big bang” when all the mass and energy in the universe came into existence in the blink of an eye (or, more technically, in 10-35 seconds). Initially consisting of a slurry of sub-atomic particles, it has been in evolution ever since to produce the universe as we now know it, with all the beauty of the night sky, and with our earth, capable of providing us with habitation and nourishment. Kirshner never speaks of God, but I sense his faith in every page.

This is all in the area of cosmology, but if we turn to anthropology we find the same extravagance: God has created humans by the billions; there are billions of humans on earth right now, previous generations have produced earlier billions, and who knows how many more generations will produce their billions. This is prodigality that defies comprehension, especially if we reflect that all of these were created to know God on earth and ultimately to
enjoy intimacy with God in heaven. And each of them is known by God through and through by God. Jesus said that even the hairs of our head are numbered.

That so many are called to eternal glory already speaks of a love that is truly prodigious, prodigal. But to all this must be added the fact of sin and redemption. We need to appreciate the terrible devastation sin has wrought in the human situation in order to understand how much was needed to repair the damage. Who would ever have guessed that God would send the Only Begotten Son, the Second Person of the Trinity, to leave the warmth, the comfort, the safety of the heavenly sphere (to speak in human terms), to take on human flesh–to become human–to enter an unwelcoming world–to suffer cold, hunger, rejection, betrayal, abandonment by His own, suffer terribly, and die a shameful death? Sin and redemption are a great mystery, but revelation tells us that this is the way God dealt with it. Again, we must speak of God’s extravagant love.

Even our Scripture readings of capture only in a very limited way this love of God.
The first reading from Wisdom speaks of God’s deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt and so formed for Himself a people. The second reading goes back some generations to the very beginnings of Israel with its reference to Sarah’s conception when she was long past the age of child-bearing. It is ironic that it is said “by faith Sarah received power to conceive” because the story in Genesis tells us that Sarah laughed in skepticism when the Lord said she would have a child. The story of Abraham’s almost sacrificing Isaac is perhaps a better example, but he could not measure up to the prodigal love of God in actually surrendering His Son to death.

The gospel heartens us with Jesus’ words, “Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom,” a further affirmation of God’s prodigious, unmerited love for us. And yet the exhortations in this passage reminds us how negligently we return God’s love, with its warning about watching, being ready, not being like servants who merit punishment rather than praise. If we keep in mind the wonders of God’s love for us, we will long for the watchfulness that preserves us from every sin. Every time we look to the starry sky (if only we could see the stars!) we should be reminded of God’s extravagant love for us. Every day at Mass we say, “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” If we strive to return to God a love such as He has for us, we will look to that day with longing for the God who loves us so much.

Fr. Joseph Jensen
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Eighteenth Sunday of the Year

  • August 1, 2010
  • by Fr. Hilary
  • Ecc. 1:2, 2:21-23
  • Col. 3:1-5, 9-11
  • Luke 12:13-21

“Build bigger barns?” As an ageing monk myself I am acquainted with many people who are either retired or contemplating retirement The passage from St. Luke that we have just heard could well be puzzling or even troubling to such as we. To try to understand what the Gospel means for us I have found it helpful to reflect, first, on this Gospel’s emphasis and approach to wealth and poverty, and then to think about the details of what we have just heard.

While the words “wealth” and “poverty” “rich” and “poor” do not appear in St. John’s Gospel at all, they are frequent in the three other, synoptic gospels, in the many stories and sayings they have in common. Yet we do seem to see a special emphasis in Luke. Already in Mary’s Magnificat in chapter 2 we hear, “He has filled the hungry with good things. He has sent the rich away empty.”

In chapter 4 Jesus gives his first teaching in the synagogue at Nazareth. He begins by reading from the scroll of the prophecy of Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me . . . He has sent me to announce good news to the poor . . . .” Whereas the first beatitude in Matthew begins, “Blessed are the poor in spirit . . .,” the parallel text in Luke begins, “Blessed are you poor; for yours in the kingdom of God.” There is a corresponding woe: “”Woe to you rich people, for you are receiving your consolation.”

This ‘sermon on the plane’ continues: “Love your enemies; do good toward those who hate you.” The sermon concludes,

Do good without expecting a return. Your reward will be great. You will be children of the Most High, for very God is kind to those who are without kindness and are evil. Be merciful, as your heavenly Father is merciful.

The scope of these paradoxes is great: Do they represent an impossible dream? Mother Teresa of Calcutta did not think so. It is within a genuinely Christian worldview that we must try to understand the challenge of today’s Gospel.

“What happens to the inheritance?” Sometimes lawsuits are necessary. I think it’s fair to say that today’s gospel parable is not about wealth, it’s about greed. Who is the protagonist of the story? He is a rich man; no wife or family is mentioned, so I think he’s a bachelor. If he is a farmer we’re not told that he does the farming himself. His rich lands produce a very bountiful harvest. He asks, “What shall I do with all this?” He does not think beyond himself. He does not say, “Well, I could give some to that monastery over there, or to the poor.” No, he thinks, it’s time to tear down the old ones and build bigger barns with ample space for all his surplus from the fields. as well as his favorite Lamborghini. . Aha, he chuckles, when it’s all done I shall say to myself, “Now as for you, you have so many good things stored up for many years, rest, eat, drink, be merry!”
To continue the words of the Gospel:

“God said to him, ‘you fool, this night your life will be demanded for you, and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong? ‘ Thus will it be for all who store up treasure for themselves but are not rich in what matters to God. ”

This all a fiction, a parable about greed. It is not a treatise on economics. And yet, it must be true of true believers that our truest wealth is to be rich in what matters to God, to God-for-us.

Dear friends, allow me to express the conviction that you who come here to mass are not doing so as a kind of “insurance,” something just in case something untoward, like death, might happen. There is nothing evil-in-itself in having life insurance, or in making prudent provision for one’s retirement. But for all of us, the challenge continues: What return shall I make to the Lord for all the Lord has given to me? What does it mean to be rich in what matters to God? Will we hear on judgment day, the words of Jesus, “Come, you blessed of my father, I was hungry and you gave me food, a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me.” ?

Fr. Hilary Hayden
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Eighteenth Sunday of the Year

  • August 1, 2010
  • by Fr. Joseph
  • Homily preached at the annual meeting of the Catholic Biblical Association
  • Ecc. 1:2; 2:21-23
  • Col. 1 3:9-11
  • Luke 12:13-21


I would have thought you people hear enough from me during a meeting, without my giving a homily, but the Program committee had other ideas, so here I am.

We all grieve for the loss of our beloved friend an colleague, Larry Boadt, and I shall be offering this Mass for him; but we know that he would rather that we rejoice for his entrance into glory than for our loss, so my homily will be on the lighter side, as he would have wished.

Actually, I was clueless as to what to say through yesterday and getting desperate. But last night I had a dream. I was thinking real hard about the readings, so not surprisingly, Qoheleth was in it. He looked friendly enough, so I made bold to ask him, “Are you a pessimist, as people say you are?” “What people? Why would they say a thing like that?” I didn’t tell him that I was one of them: “Well, for example, that bit about women: ‘One man out of a thousand have I come upon, but a woman among them all I have not found.’ And how about all that `Vanity of vanities. All things are vanity.’ That’s not exactly upbeat.” “It may not be upbeat, but it’s reality. Take your own case: the CBA did all the work of translating the New American Bible but at present someone else is keeping all the royalties. Or take today’s gospel; look at that unfortunate man who worked so hard for an abundant harvest: probably he was out supervising his slaves every day, seeing to cultivating and irrigating; then just when he has success, poof, he’s gone: he has labored with wisdom and knowledge and skill and yet he has to leave it to another who has not labored over it. I call that vanity.” “I don’t think that is the point Jesus was making (it’s a fictional story, after all): suppose instead of tearing down his old barns and building bigger that man had used all that wonderful surplus to feed the poor. Proverbs is a wisdom book, as is yours, but it often commends liberality to the poor: `The one who has compassion on the poor lends to the Lord, who will repay the good deed’; but I find nothing of that in your book.” “Have any of the books you have written been accepted into the canon of Scripture?” “Well, n-no, actually they haven’t.” “Then I don’t think you ought to be criticizing mine.” “Oh, I make my living criticizing books in the canon.” “So did Roland Murphy, but I think my book was one of his favorites.” “Well, some people like enigmas. You see death as a limiting factor on all that could be considered good and THEREFORE judge all things are vanity; but how could you believe the God who redeemed Israel would have left us with nothing beyond death?” “Ah, well, I set it all up so that others would necessarily draw the opposite conclusion.” “So we’re the thinkers rather than you?” “Oh, there’s no use talking to you.” And he departed.

But then I met St. Paul. I said, “How could he not understand. That wonderful passage we have for today’s Mass from Colossians–by the way did you write Colossians?” “I’m here to help you with your homily, not to answer your critical questions. In any case, you don’t want to be too hard on Qoheleth. A lot happened between him and Colossians.” “Yes, but even before the end of the Old Testament period there was belief in the resurrection in Daniel and 2 Maccabees, and of an afterlife, at least, in Wisdom of Solomon.” “You can say that they came to it by a kind of intuition, with a lot of gaps between A and B.” “What do you mean by that?” “I mean that there was a correct perception that God wills us for an afterlife, but no concept of the need for redemption, no concept of the terrible devastation sin had wrought in the human situation and of how great a thing was needed to repair the damage. There was some concept, in the days of the Maccabeean martyrs, that their deaths were in a way redemptive, and that was a beginning. And now it’s easy enough for us to see, in retrospect, but who could have known that God would send the Only Begotten Son, the Second Person of the Trinity, to leave the warmth, the comfort, the safety of the heavenly sphere (to put it in human terms), to take on human flesh–to become human–to enter an unwelcoming world–to suffer cold, hunger, rejection, betrayal, abandonment by His own, suffer terribly, and die a shameful death? Sin and redemption are a great mystery, but revelation tells us that this is the way God dealt with it. So now we can say, as someone says in today’s reading, `When Christ your life appears, then you too will appear with him in glory.’ Before that can come to pass you have to work at what Jesus commends in today’s gospel, `to grow rich in the sight of God.’” “Well, that’s easier said than done, I don’t happen to have an abundant harvest to share with the poor.” “It’s the attitude and intention more than the material wealth; remember the widow and her mite.”

“Well, all right, but remember, the people I’m to address in this homily are scholars, professors, famous exegetes; they’ll expect me to say something profound.” “You want something profound? What about the passage in today’s second reading: “Put on, then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do. And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection.” Then, of course, there is my chapter on love in 1 Cor: “Love is patient, kind, not jealous, not pompous, is not inflated, is not rude, does not seek its own interests, is not quick‑tempered, does not brood over injury, does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Or my gifts of the Spirit in Galatians: “the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self‑control.”

And how about all those all those other exhortations: Love one another with genuine affection, anticipate each other in showing respect, look to the needs of others as to your own, bless and do not curse, never repay injury with injury, do not avenge yourselves, live honorably as in daylight, not in quarreling and jealousy, put on the Lord Jesus Christ.

“You want profound? When the disciples quarreled about who was greatest, Jesus told them that He, the Son of Man, had come not to be served but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for the many. At the Last Supper Jesus washed the feet of His disciples and said, “I have given you an example to follow, so that as I have done to you, you should also do.” Do you think you can tell them that?” “Well, these are all wonderful people, so I can certainly try.”

Fr. Joseph Jensen
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