Rose Sunday

Many, but not all, churches lighten the mood a little bit on the fourth Sunday in Lent. That custom probably mirrors an obscure papal practice which itself is attested as already being an ancient custom 1000 years ago. On the fourth Sunday in Lent, the pope blesses a golden rose. The rose would then be presented to some individual or some place as a mark of special papal favor. Though, to this day, a Golden rose is blessed each year, it is not always given out. Since the world is not populated by all that many people or places worthy of being marked by such an honor, it became a rare gift: when no recipient could be found the Pope kept the Golden Rose.

The connection between the Golden Rose the rosy vestments and altar hangings used in churches today may seem like a loose one, but I don’t think it is.

To me, it makes perfect sense. If I saw the pope bless a flower for an extra special Christian or an extra special church every year, my first thought would be: “Why can’t I have one?” or better yet: “Why can’t my church have a rose?” Whose to say that this place isn’t worthy enough or special enough to celebrate Rose Sunday? And so, the custom spread.

Eventually the reason for all the roses was forgotten and other reasons and names for the Sunday become commonplace. In England, a tradition of Mothering Sunday spun out of the combination of the roses and an epistle reference to mother church. In most of America the Sunday is known simply as Rose or Refreshment Sunday because that’s what the day looks and feels like. And in Anglo-catholic circles, the Sunday is known as Laetare Sunday for two reasons. First, Laetare is the first word of the entrance song: it means rejoice. Second, Anglo-Catholics like Latin words.

Though its origin is obscure, I think that knowing why the color changes is important. In this case, at face value, the official ancient practice of the church seems odd. What does it mean to give a special blessed gift to a particularly worthy person? Even odder: what does it mean if nobody at all is considered worthy enough?

Perhaps without overtly answering those questions, Christians simply responded by putting roses in every church for every Christian: going so far as to dress up not only the altar, but the priests in very bright and rosy vestments: this particular number was originally a woman’s dress and its several hundred years old. Who needs a golden rose when your church has this? I think that’s precisely the point.

Deep down, I believe that most Christians understand that the love of God is a gift. Salvation isn’t something we have to earn, it isn’t something that the church officially bestows on people who seem worthy, its simply a gift that God gives to all who believe.

The earliest understanding of what it means to be a person who believes in Jesus informs all Christians:

What does Paul say?
By grace you have been saved through faith; and this is not your own doing, it is the gift of God-- not because of works, lest any man should boast.

The roses are a celebration of the fact that God’s love is a gift. What a contrast to the world we live in. Its impossible to get through a day without hearing someone ask “How much is this going to cost?” Even the Gospel passage begins with this question: How much will it cost to buy bread for all these people. There are two answers: the apostles give the first: Too much; more than we can afford. Jesus gives a different answer: nothing.

Those who were with Jesus in the wilderness didn’t earn the bread that he gave them… he simply gave it to them because they had followed him. That bread is like the roses. It is a sign that Jesus offers himself to all of us, paying the entire cost by offering himself on the cross; He is the true bread which does not simply sustain life, but brings about eternal life.

You don’t need to climb through the ladders of industry and business to have eternal life. You don’t need to be seen by someone as worth or valuable enough to hold onto eternal life. You never get laid off as a member of the Body of Christ. The love of God doesn’t get harder and harder to afford.

After looking through the history of Rose Sunday, I am pretty sure that most Christians already know that. I know how important it can be to be reminded of it sometimes though, I know how important it is to know that there may not be a free lunch, but the love of God is a gift - 100% free. Today we are offered this wonderful reminder, not only for ourselves, but we are reminded that not every knows what we know. Not everyone gets it.

The next time you hear someone say “How much is this going to cost?” remember Jesus and pray that the Spirit will find some way to explain that not everything in life may come at a cost, but eternal life does not. Jesus has already died and rose for all of us and he is already preparing a place for each of us in his Father’s house, where there are many room, and none of them require a credit card.

Sermon for Lent 2, 2009

It is not easy to be a person of faith; though, if you examine our first two readings, you might think otherwise.

Abraham trusts in God so much that he is willing to head up the mountain with his son Isaac because he knows that “The Lord will provide.” And God does provide the lamb, sacrificed in the place of his child, in a scene that prefigures the Lamb of God, Jesus Christ, sacrificed will for all of the children of Abraham.

Saint Paul’s faith in the love of God in Christ is such that he can boldly proclaim: I am sure that nothing at all can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

There are certainly moments when my faith is rock solid, I’d like to think, like that of Abraham or Paul, but more often I do not have such clarity or such boldness. Those moments are moments of doubt. Doubt is something everyone has but nobody ever wants to talk about.

And so I ask: Is it ok to have doubt?
Some would answer, No, it is not ok to have doubt. I think its for this reason that many people claim that they never doubt. They will insist that their faith is rock solid. Like Abraham and Paul, who in difficult times kept firm and held fast, they never doubt God for a second. Doubt, is not ok, and those who doubt are not really believers because they don’t believe.

I think that answer is unrealistic and specifically for Christians, I think that answer is very problematic.

I think its unrealistic because I can pretend that I do not suffer from doubt and fear, but that doesn’t make those things go away. I’ve always been surprised that there are so many people who do pretend that they have no fears, no regrets, and no doubts. Not me: I have fears; I have regrets: I have doubts.

I think its fair to place doubt at the root of all temptations. Don’t you view doubt as the source from which every other temptation is allowed to grow and fester? I do.

That is why as a Christian, I think its problematic to dismiss the fact that everyone has doubts. Jesus Christ suffered just as we suffer and he was tempted just as we are tempted. If Jesus was not tempted as we are how can we claim at all that he suffered just as we did – mental anguish is at least as traumatic as physical anguish. Remember, it is Jesus who cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” right before he died.

One does not have to give in to doubt to be tempted by it, and it seems to me that once you do give in to doubt, it becomes so much easier to give in to everything else. To acknowledge something doesn’t mean you embrace it, it means you name it, you identify it, and you can begin to reject it.

Though I recognize that I have doubt, I try not embrace the doubts that I have; I do not like them at all, I am afraid of them, but I know that I have them, and following the example of the saints and of Jesus himself, I pray that I may not fall into temptation, so that I can say “No” to doubt and “Yes” to God.

I would be surprised to find out that Saint Paul, after his conversion, never had moments where his faith was weak. I would be surprised if Abraham walked up the mountain in complete confidence. Don’t you think he was probably praying desperately that the Lord would indeed provide?

Listen to the words of Saint Paul again. He is not blind to the difficulties of life; he does not speak from a place of assurance or ease. He confronts his greatest fears and doubts head on and names them one by one:

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For thy sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, 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.

Lent is an opportunity to stop pretending that life is perfect. The music stops, and the singing becomes more difficult. The flowers disappear, and the church seems more imposing. The entire season begins with a reminder that you are dust and to dust you will return: life, which we all hold so dear, is not just fragile, but fleeting. Its not easy being human, its even harder being a Christian, and that is a fact that nobody can run away from.

This Lent, don’t be afraid to name those things that scare you. Recognizing doubt, suffering, grief, pain, fear and sin doesn’t mean you have to give in to them or be overwhelmed by them.

I don’t think its possible to really pick up the cross and follow Jesus if you are unwilling to name those things which are making it so hard to pick up the cross in the first place.

Pray to God to have the strength to see his love and light more clearly. Pray for God to help and support your faith. Pray that you will not enter into temptation. Know that as you walk through a life this is filled with uncertainty, suffering, and fear… you are not alone. Jesus Christ took up the same cross and he is walking beside you with all the saints.

And know that as he took up the cross Jesus conquered all suffering, he conquered death and has prepared a place for you in his Father’s house, where this no suffering, where there is no pain, and all of the doubts and darkness that torment us in life are dispelled forever by the light of Christ.

Angelus Article: The Language of Lent

My son Liam, who is not quite two and a half years old yet, is learning to speak English at a rate that I find quite surprising. For the past few days he has thoroughly enjoyed climbing up on the couch cushions so that he can look out the window in our living room. Once settled on his perch, he exclaims: "Look at my up here!". "Look at me up here," I say. "Look at meee up here!" he repeats. He's using the correct word, but not the correct form of the word. Likewise, he will often march into the living room and announce: "I take me shoes off!" His statement is not technically true since he is wearing his shoes. What he really means is that he wants to take them off. Again, he has the right word, but he isn't using the correct form of the verb. Still he's getting better day by day, and as a father, I think it's a thrilling thing to be a part of.

I am trying to learn Spanish this Lent (or more correctly, to begin learning Spanish). I know Latin, Greek and Hebrew, which are all very convenient when working as a parish priest, but I've discovered that knowing Spanish, especially in New York City, would be helpful. Simply for the sake of further-reaching pastoral care, outreach and evangelism, I believe it would be a very useful thing for any parish priest to know. So far, I'm sort of the opposite of Liam in my new linguistic skills: I know the correct forms, but I can't seem to remember many of the correct words. Its fun, but frustrating: I want to learn the language now. I should remember that Liam will spend years learning English; in fact, he's spent the last six months building up a vocabulary that consists almost entirely of words related to clothing, food, numbers and colors. At this point I would be happy simply to be able to say the Spanish equivalent to "Look at my up here!" from the pulpit.

Reflecting on the time that it takes to really learn something leads me to Lent and Holy Week. This is my fifth Lent at Saint Mary's, and it will be my sixth Holy Week (my first year I was in Seminary during Lent and assisted at the parish throughout Holy Week as Deacon). The details and forms of the Lenten worship life at Saint Mary's continue to sink in, I continue to learn new things, but I note that this year I feel far more comfortable with the language of Lenten worship here than I ever have before. The last few years I had been tripped up by the minor liturgical changes that Lent brings, and I'd been caught of guard by the simplicity of the season. So far, not this year. So far Lent is Lent, not a new season that brings complications for my life as the Curate for Liturgy, not a sudden change of gear, but a daily progression toward Holy Week and Easter that flowed right out of Christmas and has gotten serious. I noticed for the first time this year that the hymns on the last Sunday after Pentecost feature tunes that are more familiarly from Holy Week and Easter. I'm seeing clearly the link between the Scriptural texts that are read throughout Lent and those read during Holy Week and Easter. I believe that this clarity is the result, not simply of learning Lent and Holy Week at Saint Mary's, but living it. In a sense, it's like that moment - a moment I can only envy that others have had - when one becomes so familiar with another language that one actually starts thinking or dreaming in it. I'm no longer thinking about what Lent is, I am just enjoying living each Lenten day and feeling the progress toward Easter.

At some point Liam began to think in English. I don't know when that happened, I can only hope that I am able one day to feel what it is like to think in another language. But when that happens, my learning will not be complete, it will probably feel like a fresh beginning all over again! I feel sort of like I have finally begun to think in the language of Lent, and I am looking forward to where this will lead me as I continue to live, breathe, think, and even dream about the love of God in Christ that can be experienced so gloriously in the church. Living out the liturgical life of the church year is possible at Saint Mary's - that cannot be said of every church, which I think is very sad. This Lent, I encourage and invite you to walk through the doors of this church as many times as you are able. It'll make a huge difference when you walk through the doors here on Palm Sunday. You'll know more of the grammar and vocabulary that the church has used for two thousand years to proclaim the triumph of the cross and the joy of the resurrection. Matthew Mead