The Imitation of Christ

Within Holy Communion, we remember Christ’s death and resurrection, as we await his coming in glory. Christ himself compelled us to remember him in a specific way, not as an intellectual assent or idea, but to remember him in a practice – in a sacramental rite that seems to be summed up in the word, “Do.” Do this in remembrance of me. He might even say, “Practice this in remembrance of me.” “Pray this in remembrance of me.” “Do this in remembrance of me.”

Charles C. Colton once said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” It’s a complement to imitate. It’s a complement to remember. But is there a difference in remembering and imitating? Are we to remember Christ – only – or are we called to imitate Christ? Or, are we compelled to do a bit of both?

I grew up in East Texas, and at one time my family owned and rode horses. But before we had horses, we had ideas of what it would be like to groom, ride, and care for a horse. My Mom expressed her interest in horses by going out and purchasing roper boots in a variety of colors. My Dad read and researched how to care for a horse (very practical, right)? But it was my brother who gave our family the most expressive way of remembering horses. He would run through the house on all fours galloping like a horse. He ate Cheerios and juice from a bowl…on the floor…with only his mouth…eating like a horse. He hardly used words when he was in this state of consciousness, but nayed and whinnied like a horse. My brother did not believe he was like a horse; however, my brother believed he was a horse. The way that he best remembered and related to the horse was to be and to become the horse.

In the reading from the first chapter in the Book of James we get that famous verse, “Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.” Again, the word, “Do” is highlighted. And how can we be and become doers of the word? Well, the Word was made flesh, so that means the Word is Christ. If the Word is Christ, then that must mean that we are all called to be doers of Christ. And doers of Christ are ones who remember him through his Body and Blood, and in remembering him, we are given strength to imitate him.

The imitation of Christ is both a nod to religion and our various religious traditions, but the imitation of Christ also transcends religion because all of our hearts and souls, all of our strength and minds reaches toward the Way, the Truth, and the Life – which our faith teaches is the person and presence of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. That’s comforting to me: That the very person and presence we are trying to imitate is already there…and/or here. And if we are reaching out to Christ, we know that he is reaching back to us.

To be an imitator of Christ holds great responsibility. To be an imitator of Christ, we don’t necessarily take on new things, so much as we give up old things. And Christ seems to be pretty good at revealing to us (deep within our hearts) what those things we need to give up are…what things are holding us back from full participation and imitation of Him. The Church has traditionally called the process of giving up things, the process of sanctification. It’s within this process of sanctification that we are being made holy by emptying ourselves so that Christ may fill us more fully.

This is played out in the liturgy of the Church when we empty ourselves of sin by confessing them to God before remembering and being filled by Christ with His Body and Blood. It’s played out further with the passing of the peace where we remember a brother or sister in Christ that has something against us (or we against them), so we pass the peace of the Lord, and are reconciled with each other before offering our gifts at the altar (Matt 5:23, 24). By doing such things in the liturgy of the Church allots a specific time to practice our faith, to be better Christians, and (ultimately) to imitate Christ, himself. Practicing gets under our skin, and in our pores so much so that if we are used to passing the peace every time we celebrate the Holy Eucharist, then outside the doors of the Church we will find ourselves being more peaceful and forgiving to those whom are hard to get along with. In other words, we are practicing what we are preaching…that’s remembering Christ. But we are also preaching what we are practicing…that imitating Christ. It’s a both/and, not one or the other.

So our primary gift from God is the gift of Christ, and it is with this gift that we (as Christians) get to share with the rest of the world; and we best share Christ by being imitators of him. What is another gift of God, but is only secondary are the gifts of the Church – mainly the sacraments of holy baptism and communion. It is through these gifts that we get to remember Christ, and practice our faith, and prayerfully commit to something that is bigger than ourselves.

These are the primary and secondary gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts, by faith, with thanksgiving, and ultimately, in the imitation of Him.

Exorcism in the Church

The Church defines a sacrament as an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. One example of a sacrament is Holy Baptism where the outward and visible sign is water. The inward and spiritual grace comes from God, and is an act of love between Creat-or and creat-ed. It is an unconditional love, unearned, and undeserved.

Within the rite of baptism there is a lengthy question and answer portion that the minister asks the candidate. This is followed by another Q&A section where the minister asks those who are present to both remember and renew those same words once spoke during this holy sacrament.

Scholars tell us this portion of the rite is a good old-fashioned exorcism. If you don’t believe me, take a look yourself:

Question     Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?
Answer       I renounce them.

Question     Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?
Answer       I renounce them.

Question     Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?
Answer       I renounce them.

Question     Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?
Answer       I do.

Question     Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love?
Answer       I do.

Question     Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord?
Answer       I do.

What do you think? Exorcism, or no? Also, did you notice that the things that were renounced have a cosmic, worldly, and a personal dimension to them? Did you notice that you couldn’t defeat these things on your own? That is why we turn to Christ, and say, “I do” and receive His grace and love. In other words, we need a Savior. We need help. We cannot confront these things on our own.

It is humbling to think that there are powers and principalities in this world that have been here since before we were born, and will be here after we’re gone. Personally, there is both institutional and individual sin that I am so caught up in that most of the time I’m not even able to see (much less) acknowledge it. Most of what I’ve done (or left undone) during the day goes on without full awareness, and I find myself confessing my sins while stumbling all over the place.

It is also humbling to know that the powers of love, grace, joy, and peace (to name a few) will also be here after I’m gone. Candidates for holy baptism are reminded of this when the community gathered around them say they will do all they can to support them in their life in Christ. They follow this up by making verbal promises to persevere with these persons with their own strength, as well as with the help of God. Again, we all need a Savior. We all need help.

What in your life needs an exorcism? What in our world needs an exorcism? Are you aware of your own limits, or do you think that you are like God and limit-less? What cosmic, worldly, and individual sins are you/we/the world caught up in now?

We all need a Savior. We all need help.

Question(s) on Suffering *

So much hate, violence, and overall uncertainty have been going on in the world around us this year. Our culture seems to wake up to nightmares daily instead of floating on a midsummer night’s dream. As a priest just finishing my first year of parish ministry, I have buried twelve persons, and counseled countless souls who are lost in grief, anxiety, and despair.

While I’m not an expert on suffering in the world, I have noticed a few things in my first year that gives me hope. Even though life can feel like the experience of a sparrow in a hurricane, those persons who approach the twister at the right angle seem to be the ones who are forever wounded, but also forever changed – forever changed (and wounded) for the better. It is a deep change full of humbleness, grace, and faith that start with the same question, but then upon realizing the madness in it, they administer an about-face, and proceed to march with a much nobler question in mind.

The problem that drives persons crazy is the question of “why”:

“Why is their suffering in the world?”

“Why do bad things happen to good people?”

“Why isn’t God listening to me?”

“Why aren’t things getting better?”

These are the “go-to” questions when it comes to suffering. They are the default position in the human psyche, but the default question seems to me to be the wrong one, or better, the question of “why” should follow at a later time – once the dust has settled, once the air has been cleared a bit, after everybody has gone home. “Why” is a great and profound question, but it is the starting point for the scientist, not the existentialist. I don’t know anybody who comes into my office asking, “why their mother died,” expecting me to say, “because she had cancer.” It would be cruel and ridiculous of me to answer in that way because the grieving person in front of me asking that question does not expect an answer in return. They simply want someone to ask it to – a personal sounding board, a lending of an ear.

The question of “why” might be humanity’s default pathway into the forest of our lives, but the road less traveled is a question of “what”:

“There is suffering in the world. What (if anything) am I going to do about it?”

“Bad things happen to good and evil people. What do I do when bad things happen to me?” “What are my patterns?” “What is my mindset?”

“God doesn’t seem to be listening to me. What can I do to reframe the question, the prayer, or even my life to get the sense that God is still here?”

“Things are not getting better. What do I need to refocus on in order to see life at another angle?”

Asking the question, “What” instead of “Why” takes away some of the sting from thorns found within the flesh. Asking the question “What” instead of “Why” brings us back to the present moment, to the here and now, to where we need to be. Instead of asking the initial question of “why” – “Why did Aunt Sally die?” what if we started with, “what?” “What am I going to do now that Aunt Sally has died?” Well, for starters you can cry. For starters, you can grieve. For starters, you can ask for a hug. You don’t have to take life ‘day-to-day.’ By asking the question of “what” you can take life ‘moment-to-moment’, a position much closer to our hearts than some future point within the day.

As a Christian, I believe we get closer to God by asking the question, “What” instead of “Why.” Starting with “Why” makes God seem so distant and isolated that we get the sense of our own distance and isolation from God. The question of “What” brings God closer because we can open our Bibles and tangibly see what Jesus was like. Then our eyes are more open to tangibly see the breadth and length and height and depth of Christ’s love in our world today when we see ourselves and others acting like him. In other words, we are reminded of God’s love for us every time we get to experience love ourselves. I don’t have the answers to why there is suffering in the world, but what I do have are the questions. Lord, help me to ask the right ones.

*The following was an excerpt from my sermon preached Sunday, July 26, 2015. To read the full sermon, click here.