Fr. Bill Carroll – The Fourth Sunday after Pentecost, June 16, 2024
So then, whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please the Lord.
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Today, I’d like to share with you an old, old story from the first Christian monks. In Egypt and elsewhere, beginning in the third century, these men and women fled from the cities to live in the desert. And they did so just as the Church was beginning to accommodate itself to the Roman Empire and the ways of the world. In that environment, the monks sought to live the Gospel fully, without so many compromises.
Many of these stories begin with someone arriving on the doorstep of a spiritual elder. They come seeking a “word” of counsel. The elder in question responds with a brief, wise saying, like Quai Chang Caine and Master Po. Sometimes, the elder responds to a particular challenge the disciple is facing. Or else, they provide insight into the monastic life, or even the Gospel itself. Surprisingly though, given the monks’ commitment to extreme poverty and bodily discipline, the advice is often compassionate and realistic about the limits of human nature.
One such story concerns an elder named “Father Basil.” One day, a younger monk came to him and said “Father, give me a word of life.” Father Basil replied, “Say, ‘I am God’s son,’ and live accordingly.” This, brothers and sisters, is the heart of our faith: to know (to really know) that we are God’s beloved children. We need to know this about ourselves–and then live accordingly.
Too often, when we think about spiritual childhood, we focus on our littleness and dependency. And this can be a helpful reminder of our constant need for God’s grace. But it risks obscuring what really delights God’s heart—seeing his children grow.
That is how we put flesh on the prayer that Jesus taught us: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” That is how we allow the seed of the word that is planted in our hearts to grow. It is how we live no longer for ourselves—but for him who died for us. And so, as members of God’s family, as brothers and sisters of Jesus, we are called to take responsibility for the family business—to live as God’s children, who share his priorities and his concerns.
Paul says something like that in today’s Epistle. Writing to the Church at Corinth, he is wrestling with whether it would be better for him to die and be with Jesus, or remain and serve his neighbors. The life of a Christian can be dark and uncertain. For “we walk by faith, and not by sight.” Our faith involves real participation in the suffering and death of Jesus, as well as his resurrection. And yet, where the rubber meets the road is when it comes to it following where he leads. “So then (Paul says) whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please the Lord.” To serve our neighbors in the body, that’s what he is talking about.
Each one of us will have to give an account of our ministry (he says)—and how we treat our neighbors. Last week, Mother Vivian urged us to consider the dangers we are in because of our divisions as a nation. For Jesus, love is not so much an emotion. It is as an attitude that leads us to changed behaviors.
In other words, we have come to share in Jesus’ own relationship with his Father, and, like Jesus, we are to live in this world as God’s children. And so, we are called to love the neighbors he gives us—all of them, without exception.
Today is Father’s Day. And, as we honor our fathers, I want to pause to acknowledge what some of us are feeling. Thinking about our fathers can be painful for some of us. Even the best fathers are complicated human beings. I don’t think I realized that fully until I became a father myself–just how complicated it is to be an adult human being. As a result, fatherhood is not always the most helpful way to picture the steadfast love of God.
And yet, how desperately we need a “word of life” from a wise elder. How desperately we need a “word of life” in confusing times like these. It makes a huge difference in our lives when a father or a grandfather steps up (maybe it’s a mother for some of us)—but where someone steps up to bless us as we are—and to challenge us to become what we can be.
And what a blessing we receive from our fathers and grandfathers—and from those teachers and coaches and others who are like fathers to us when we need them. They show us what it means to be generous and merciful. They show us what it means to be fair and strong and kind.
For Jesus, this is who his Father is. We can imagine what life in a small, Middle Eastern village would have been like for a boy of questionable parentage. But, from the beginning, Jesus knew who his Father was. He knew his Father’s love. He knew the One who sent him. He knew the One to whom we all belong.
And so, he lived—minute by minute and day by day—in obedience to the perfect love of God. The Father of Jesus is the Creator of us all. He is pure goodness: the source of all life, all wisdom, and all peace. This is what the Father of Jesus is like. He is the “giver of every good and perfect gift.” He comes looking for us when we stray. He prepares a feast for us when we are hungry. And he throws his arms wide open to welcome us home.
Beloved, we are God’s children now. We are servants of God’s new creation.
Go and live accordingly.
Amen.