John 12.20-36
+ As
some of you might know, I pray the Daily Offices of Morning and Evening Prayer
every day. Every day, without fail. I have to. An Episcopal priest, and as
Oblate of St. Benedict, I am committed to prating the Office daily. Doing so, however, proves a bit daunting. Or
rather, I should say, exhausting and…I don’t know if I’m even comfortable saying
this, but I’ll be honest…There are moments when praying the Daily Office is
just kind of boring and tedious.
It’s a
normal part of regular prayer life. The monastics, of course, certainly
experienced this. They called this boredom the Noonday Demon. And it’s an important thing to recognize and
name and get beyond.
So, what
does one do in those instances when regular prayer becomes boring? One finds
ways to rejuvenate it, to stir the pot a bit, so to speak. And, for me, I have
found that I have been able to use other liturgical resources in my praying of
the Daily Office. One of the resources I use, is actually, the Liturgy of the Hours of the Roman
Catholic Church. Although I am sworn, by
the vows of my ordination, to pray according the worship of the Episcopal
Church, meaning I am obligated to pray the Daily Office as we find it in in the
Book of Common Prayer, I am able to use
some of the antiphons, responses and collects/prayers of the Liturgy of Hours,
as well as the Intercessions in my daily prayer. And it has helped tremendously.
But I
have also added to my daily prayer regime, the Office of Readings from The
Liturgy of the Hours. The Office of Readings is a wonderfully contemplative office, in which, in
addition to psalms and scriptures, there is also a select reading from one of
the early Church Fathers.
Well,
the reading for today—this Tuesday of Holy Week—really struck me, and I’d like
to share a bit of it with you. This comes from St. Basil, an early Church
Father, from his book, On the Holy Spirit.
St. Basil writes,
“To attain holiness…we must not only pattern our
lives on Christ’s by being gentle, humble and patient, we must also imitate him
in his death. Taking Christ for his model, Paul said that he wanted to become
like him in his death in the hope that he too would be raised from death to
life.”
Now for
me, that is the sense of what it means to follow Jesus. And that is our job as
Christians. We are to follow Jesus.
In our
Gospel for this evening, we find Jesus admonishing his followers to walk in the
light while they still have the light. Well, we are those followers he speaking
to tonight. We are the ones who are, in this moment, still walking in the
light.
But, in
these next few days, we will be walking in the darkness as well. We will be
following Jesus through some very dark moments in his journey to the cross. And
this journey is, of course, not just his journey, but our journey as well. It
is not an easy journey. It is a hard journey. And it is a dark journey. But
that is all part of what it means to follow Jesus.
Last
week, at St. Mark’s, William preached a very wonderful sermon about
many of these same issues. In that sermon, I loved the reaction he received
from the Lutherans and even some Episcopalians in the congregation when he shared with us about how when he was
confirmed, the Bishop slapped him. Some of them were shocked.
Now, we
should be clear, the Bishop didn’t slap William because he was being a bad boy
at his confirmation. Well, maybe William was being a bad boy at his
confirmation. But the Bishop didn’t slap only William. That Bishop slapped
everyone being confirmed that day. It was a part of the traditional Anglican rite
to provide a light slap to people being confirmed. As William explained, the
reason for this slap was to remind us, as followers of Jesus, that the journey
is sometimes hard.
We will
face hardships in our following of Jesus. Our following of Jesus means we follow
him through good times and bad. We follow him through the miracles and the
teachings. But we also follow him through the Garden, through the sweating of
blood, through the anguish, through the near-despair, through the betrayal,
through the whipping, through the carrying of the cross, through the agony of
having loved ones see us in our pain and misery and humiliation, through the
nailing on the cross, through the physical anguish and through, yes, even
death. It means following him through everything we prayed about in tonight’s
Litany of the Passion.
Not
pleasant.
But…before
we think all is bleak, as hard as it is to remember this, we must also look
beyond all of that. Following Jesus means following him also to that glorious
light which will once more shine on us on Saturday evening and Sunday
morning—that glorious Easter light.
There
are dark days ahead for us, as followers of Jesus. But the light will return. And
that Light, on its return, will be even more glorious. That Light will be even
more stunning. That Light will be even more blindingly beautiful than anything we’ve
experienced to that moment. It will be
because we have been through the darkness. We have known darkness. And because
we have, that Light will be even more stunning.
So, let
us journey with Jesus. Let not waver in our following of him. Let us bear what
we need to bear in these next days. Let us go even into those dark places we
don’t really want to go. But let us do so knowing that light is just around the
corner. Light in just beyond our reach. Light is awaiting us. And it will be a glorious light.
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