The Cross of Christ

A Divided Heart Finds Healing With Jesus’ Love

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A sermon preached at The Episcopal Church of the Holy Comforter in Atlanta, GA on August 14, 2022

All of today’s readings offer wonderful images for a holy life. In our first reading, God planted a vineyard. God’s intention was to cultivate grapes that would produce spirited wine. Instead, wild, bitter grapes were found, and the vineyard was let go in order for nature to take its course. It was an opportunity missed.

Today’s Psalm takes up this theme of God as vineyard planter. This time, hearts cry out for help. There’s a desire for intervention, and relief is found outside ourselves because we’re in, over our heads. We need the planter. We need a savior.

Instead of the image of a vineyard, the book of Hebrews, which was our 3rd reading today, reminds us of the saints of God that came before us. They and their stories become our examples for the holy life; and in their death, they surround the living like a great cloud calling to us and cheering us on to keep the faith. 

Finally, we come to today’s Gospel where we learn that following Jesus often leads to division, conflict, and sometimes martyrdom. Truth so often divides people in their interpretations of how to live out truth. This is further complicated when followers of Jesus see signs of crisis all around; yet, choose to ignore, deny, or neglect emergencies. Put differently, we often ignore the truth that is right under our noses not knowing how to discern right action. Understandings of how to faithfully act and follow Jesus are as diverse and numerous as the saints, and is further complicated when Jesus himself claimed that he was and is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

I believe all of these images of grapes, vineyards, clouds, and truth point us to what our opening prayer asks of God, that is, to look to Jesus as an example of godly living, and to follow daily in his blessed steps of his most holy life. How God leads us to interpret exactly what this looks like on the ground, and in our daily lives, has the potential to not only divide our own hearts as we discern what’s best, but also our families, culture, and society itself. A quick survey of Christian history reveals this fact. What, then, are we to do? 

I recently had the privilege of serving for a year or so at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. For the past several months I’ve been the chaplain at the Heart Center. The Heart Center is divided up into the cardiac ICU and the cardiac ACU. The ICU treats the children whose hearts are the sickest, while the CACU is a step down unit used for teaching caregivers medical interventions so that their little ones can be discharged from the hospital once medical education and practices are mastered. I was always amazed at how long a child would be in the ICU either recovering from heart surgery or a transplant, or visa-versa, waiting for a transplant or heart surgery. I learned that heart surgery is not a one and done medical intervention for children. In fact, there are mini procedures and surgeries needed prior to the ultimate or desired surgery. It is not uncommon for a child to undergo 4 or 5 surgeries before they are teenagers, and the reason is simple. The heart, like the child must grow. Certain surgical interventions can only happen once the heart is the proper size. Put simply, it takes a long time, and can be taxing on the patient, families, and hospital staff. 

Every once in a while, a patient is not recommended for surgery because the medical staff believes that the costs outweigh the benefits. Patients and their caregivers have a right to receive a second opinion. Sometimes the second opinion comes in and agrees with the initial hospital on how to proceed. Sometimes not. When there is not consensus the patient and caregivers then face moral and ethical questions: What is the right thing to do? What will be the patient’s quality of life with surgery, or without it? At what point are medical interventions doing things to the patient versus providing for and helping the patient? How long do they really have? With these types of questions, anxious, spiritual hearts are divided. They want life, and want it more abundantly for their child. They’ve been in the hospital for months, and now these dilemmas manifest.

As a chaplain, I had the privilege of walking alongside families through these difficult times, and it never got old for me when I witnessed what started as a divided family putting aside their own individual agendas and making a decision that was best for their child. A sense of peace fell on the room and everyone seemed to know the inevitable without having to say it. Sometimes we call these times moments of peace or acceptance, and everyone, most importantly, the child is the one who benefits most because love undergirded the discernment. Like a planter who sees that the garden has taken on a mind of its own, the parents ask for help and divine intervention comes along to clear the heart of negative, spiritual debris. 

Perhaps it’s planting season in our divided hearts, and we need a planter. We need an intervention. We need a Savior. We may not have the whole picture of what following Jesus will entail, but we have some saints to give us ideas as to what colors, shades and shapes to use. We don’t know if we will offend, who’s hearts will turn away and need a second opinion. What we do know is that he will be with us every step of the way. What we do know is that we are called to carry our crosses because Jesus first carried his. What we do know is that he wants what is best for us, and what is best for us is Him. Jesus reminds us of love, and in fact, is love incarnate desiring to further cultivate our hearts to follow daily in his blessed steps of his most holy life. You have an invitation this morning to follow him in his most holy life. Come and taste the fruit of his vine, and the bread of his labors for he is good. He is love. He is truth.

Contemplating the Cross

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Luke 2:22-40 shares the story of The Presentation. In it, we discover the holy family on a pilgrimage to the ancient temple in Jerusalem fulfilling their requirement “as it is written in the law of the Lord” (v 23). That is, to offer their firstborn to the Lord through the sacrificing of a small bird. The Presentation not only marks the time when the young Jesus was presented to God in the temple, it formally marked the Son of God taking on our nature and giving itself back to God the Father. This theodrama played out when Sts. Simeon and Anna announced that the glorious return of Yahweh to his holy temple had happened right before their eyes – For these eyes of mine have seen your salvation (v 30). In the Gospel appointed for this coming Sunday, the young Jesus has now come of age. Entering into the temple court again, he now passes judgment on it and declares that his very body had become the new temple. A few days later, this new temple would give his final sacrifice on the cross, offering himself yet again to the Father for the redemption of the world.

Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter?

~The Rev Brandon Duke

We’re at the point in this season of Lent where the image of Christ’s cross begins to take shape. If Epiphany is the season to reflect on what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, Lent is the time to come alongside Jesus with his cross. Remembering is challenging. Even his closest followers could not comprehend the cross. St. Peter could not fathom the Messiah undergoing suffering and death (Lent II). Sunday (Lent III), we learn that it was only after “he was raised from the dead” that his disciples “believed” (Jn 2:22). Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter? We know the story, and like the disciples, we remember what is written (v 17). Like Peter, we often deny that we will one day die and even ignore the truth that our closest friends and family will do the same. Forgetting we are dust and to dust we will return is prevalent in our culture, even as we have experienced significant death this year due to the ongoing pandemic (Gen 3:19). Contemplating death alone leaves one with a sense of hopelessness. Set this despair up and against the cross of Christ, and death has no sting (1 Cor 15:55). Again, we know the story. God raised him from the dead. We preach Christ crucified (1 Cor 1:23).

There are four more Sundays left in Lent. Use this time to not only remember your death but to contemplate the cross.

**The above reflection was originally posted on Modern Metanoia where The Rev. Brandon Duke writes as a guest blogger.**

Life Elevated

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Mark 1:29-39

Next week will be the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, and we’ll read the Transfiguration story. That being said, today truly marks the end of the arc of our journey through this beautiful season. This morning, I’d like to remind us of the gifts this season has brought us by looking back through Sts. Mark and John’s Gospels.

Five weeks ago, I reminded us to be on the lookout for the three miracles of Epiphany – “the baptism of Jesus with the miraculous dove and voice from heaven, the miracle at the wedding feast in Cana, and the miraculous star that led the Magi to Bethlehem.”[1] Combining these stories reminds us that we worship a God that participates in our lives in tangible ways, thus elevating life itself. Epiphany is a “green season” in the church. In other words, it’s a time for spiritual growth, maturity, and discipleship. The green seasons are sometimes referred to as “ordinary times” within the church. We might also claim that for the Christian, spiritual growth, maturity, discipleship, and evangelization is what the church does all the time. It’s so common in the culture of the church that we can claim it as ordinary. Even though we sinners fall short of this claim, nevertheless, we hope to always increase the celebrity of Jesus Christ in ordinary and extraordinary ways.

On the First Sunday after the Epiphany, St. Mark tells the story of Jesus’ baptism leaving behind the Christmas child introducing us to the adult Jesus. Jesus’ first act of solidarity with society as an adult is to go into the human condition’s muddy waters. John’s baptism was a baptism for the repentance of sin. Even though Jesus was without sin, he freely chose to take on the sins of the world to clear the water, to make it drinkable, to change and transform it so much so that when we are baptized, the waters that touch us have already been purified by Christ.

On the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, we are in St. John’s Gospel, where Jesus orders Philip to “Follow me” (Jn 1:43). Philip acquiesces and even brings on a few others. His calling signifies not only God gathering God’s people once again but also remembers a spirit of evangelism: Once we begin following the way of love, our spiritual instinct drives us to share that same love with others.

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany brings us back to St. Mark’s Gospel, where Jesus continues to gather his disciples. Remember, Jesus went through those muddy waters of a sinner’s baptism and was now calling his disciples. What does this mean? To shed the sin that one carries, to follow him, Jesus reminds them to repent. Repentance takes the form of Peter and Andrew dropping their fishing nets, now caught up in the way of love.

On the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, we leave images of rivers and oceanic waters to enter into a Capernaum synagogue. Sequentially, God first remembers God’s creation, and now moves into the institutions of humanity. Within the establishment of the church, God does not encounter the holy. Instead, he discovers the demonic. When Jesus drives out the unclean spirit found within the synagogue, the purifying force of God’s love and judgment reveals itself. Jesus orders the demon to “keep silent.” The church had run amuck. It could not save itself. It needed the Savior.

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany is today. Jesus leaves the institution of the church to enter into the foundations of the family. Here, he does not discover the demonic but sickness. Healing Simon’s mother-in-law, the scripture tells us she then gets up and begins serving them. There’s an intimacy to this story that is peculiar and different from the other narratives found in this Epiphany season yet somehow captures their spirit. St. Mark tells us that Jesus came to Simon’s mother-in-law, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. This little (yet profound) description captures the entire spirit of Epiphany, and within it are its three miracles.

Jesus came to her, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. Jesus came into our condition, takes us by the hand in the waters of baptism, and elevates our spirit. Jesus goes to a wedding in Cana, takes the ordinary water, and makes it extraordinary by becoming wine. He elevates the water’s mood. As a baby, Jesus took the Magi’s hands and lifted their heads heavenward to the guiding star. We might even claim that this secret little passage foreshadows a reversal of the human condition of sin. Remember, Adam and Eve used their hands to grasp the fruit they believed would make them like God. Instead of allowing God to come to them, they hid. Instead of being lifted up to God’s presence, they found themselves east of Eden. To right this wrong, God came to us, and with pierced hands, was lifted up on the cross. Jesus came to her, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. In this little passage is the whole of the Gospel! In this short narrative is God’s M.O. In this small passage is God’s promise to us. We’ve already tried to grasp and be like God. We continue attempting to hide from God. When we are brought low, we instinctively drag others down with us – east of Eden. 

Epiphany has reminded us that we still need a savior, that we still require the savior of the world who calls us to follow him, first by the act and ongoing acts of repentance. Epiphany has reminded us that there is not a place so low that God is not and has not gone to take us by the hand and pull us up and out of the mud and muck. After the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law, the scriptures tell she was able to serve them (Mk 1:31). After we have encountered God, do we desire to serve him and our neighbors? What would it look like to share the blessing, to share the truth, that the great Epiphany of this world is that God loves us so much that he sent his only Son to take us by the hand and lift us up?

[1]                J. Neil Alexander, Celebrating Liturgical Time: Days, Weeks, and Season, Church Publishing: New York, 2014, 36-37.