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Sermons of St. Paul UCC **Please
check CSS Publishing Company for books by Dr. Alex Gondola.**
“What’s for Supper” TEXT: Luke 10:38-42 July 25, 2010 For the most part, we Americans are addicted to eating. Eating is not only a necessary part of every day living it is a social event. Just go to MacDonalds around 9:30 a.m. and you will find a group of people discussing that latest news and offering their opinions for what they are worth. The major earth shaking topics for discussion is LeBron James or Kent Boyd, then the oil spill in the gulf and down the line the war in Afghanistan, the economy, unemployment, mid-term elections, Sarah Palin and President Obama. I wonder what the 5,000 who shared the loaves and fishes talked about in the days that followed? Or what did the disciples talk about during the last Passover Feast they shared with Jesus the night before his death on the cross? The men of Emmaus discussed the events that had recently taken place when Jesus joined them on their walk back home. Then as a show of hospitality they invited him for supper, not really realizing who he was. Single persons eat out a great deal. Not because it is less expensive, or they don’t know how to cook, but for the social aspect of being where people are. Not only are Fellowship Dinners a great place to find good food, but they offer a great place for just plain fellowship. The scripture text for the morning has to do with eating and what goes along with eating. Luke is the only Gospel writer who mentions this event. Since he was not yet in the picture someone had to tell him about it. Luke does not bother to indicate where this event took place. He simply records “a village”. He records when Jesus and his disciples arrived in the village a woman by the name of Martha invited them in for a rest. This Martha had a sister by the name of Mary. With these two clues we can conclude that the village was Bethany, a suburb of Jerusalem. Mary and Martha had a brother by the name of Lazarus. Luke says that the home was Martha’s. We don’t know if Martha was a widow lady who received the home from a deceased husband or not. I would assume that both Lazarus and Mary are single. Was Lazarus a young man or an older brother who somehow landed up living with his sisters Mary and Martha? You build the family dynamics however you wish. Did Jesus ask, “What’s for supper”? And did Martha reply, “Stewed lamb, mixed greens, leaks, and apple pie for desert”. “Great”, Jesus replied, “bring it on.” And so the disciples sat themselves down for the meal to follow. So Martha retreats to the kitchen to finish thing up. While the men folk visit in the family room Mary slips in and sits at Jesus’ feet gazing into his beautiful brown eyes like a love struck teen ager. The spell is broken, however, when Martha comes out of the kitchen, perspiration on her brow, flower on her apron, her hair a mess, and she confronts Jesus by saying, “Lord doesn’t it bother you that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to come and help me.” Conversation comes to a screeching halt. The room is silent. Martha’s face is red with anger, Mary’s face is red with embarrassment. The disciples have mixed reactions, some have a sheepish grin, others shocked that Martha would talk to Jesus in such a way. Others just wait to see what will Jesus say. The uncomfortable silence is finally broken when Jesus replies to Martha, “Martha, Martha! You are worried and upset about so many things, but only one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen what is best, and it will not be taken away from her.” The end of the story.
At least, that is the end of the story as Luke has recorded it. What happened? Did Mary hop up and retreat to the kitchen to help her sister finish things up and serve the men folk? Why did Luke record this incident in the first place? Or whoever it was who told him about it, why did it stick in their mind. Let us peal back a couple layers of this incident to see why it became a part of Holy Scripture in the first place. For one thing it reveals to us that
Jesus was very human. He like you and I got hungry from time to time. And he also knew where he could find some good home cooking when the hunger pains hit. Remember, no fast food places in his day. Once upon a time there were no fast food places in America. My mom and dad operated a restaurant during the days of the great depression. It was not a big restaurant nor was it a fancy place, just good old fashioned home cooked food. You could never tell what family members would show up knowing they would get some free food. Social barriers were broken that day. It was not “proper” for a group of men to invite themselves into the home of a single woman. Such a thing was just not done. And neither was it proper for a woman to join men folk like Mary did. Women had their place and it was not in the company of men. And what about Martha’s action, was she out of line asking Jesus to tell Mary to get up and help her? And Jesus’ response to Martha, was he putting her down and elevating Mary? “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven”. Let us give thanks for the Marthas” in the church. Without the Marthas who would organize the fellowship dinners? Or the funeral dinners? Or the wedding receptions? Can you picture Mary working at the local soup kitchen serving the homeless of Bethany or Jerusalem? There is a crying need for women like Martha who do the home mission work so necessary in a needy world. This is not a case of either/or but a case of both/and. It is a case of which is most important at the moment, eating or study. Jesus told his disciple that man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God. It has been my observation that man may not live by bread alone, but neither does he live a long and healthy life without bread.
I worked as a waiter to put myself through college and seminary. My wage was a free meal and a dollar and a quarter for serving the meal. On one occasion I was waiting for the bus to take me back to the campus. I had just eaten and had a dollar and a quarter in my pocket. A “street person” approached me and requested money for a cup of coffee. I reached in my pocket and gave him a quarter. You could still get a cup of coffee for a quarter back in the 50’s. The bus pulled up, I got on board, took my seat, and watched the man go into one of the local beer halls. I started a slow burn. When I went home on vacation I related this incident to my folks. Dad noticed my resentment toward the pan-handler. He asked me, “Joe did you have to get back to campus immediately?” I said, “no”. Dad then said, “What you could have done was to go with them man to make sure he spent his money in a way that suited you.” I got the point. That day so long ago, Jesus’ real pressing need was for fellowship, not a big meal. Martha was doing her thing, and Mary was doing her thing. For that moment in time, what Jesus needed was what Mary provided. There are times we need to evaluate, “What is the most important thing at this particular time?” Once this is determined, then do it. Rev. Joe Pumphrey Interim Minister of Visitation St. Paul UCC Wapakoneta, Ohio ================================================================ --Saints
Alive: Hildegard of Bingen -- How many of
you are familiar with Hildegard of Bingen? Please raise your hand if you
know that name. There's a few hands, maybe ten percent of our congregation.
Good! This morning I have the opportunity, and privilege, to introduce
you to one of the most remarkable Christians ever. I hope to bring this
long-dead saint “alive.” Hildegard was a genius, gifted in many things. You might call her a “Renaissance man.” Except she was a woman—and lived some three hundred years before the Renaissance began. Like Thomas Aquinas, who I preached on last month, Hildegard was born into a noble family, in her case, in Germany in 1098. Like Thomas, she was put into the care of the Church early. Hildegard was the tenth and last child. Her pious parents “tithed” her, gave her over to religious life. She was a “thank you” to God for the nine children who came first. At age eight she became the ward of an older nun, who gave her a minimal education. At age fourteen, she joined the convent herself. She was a sickly child, given to illness her whole life long. Once, as a young adult, she was paralyzed for a time. Reading her diaries, some believe Hildegard suffered from migraines. These may have been connected to the visions she received, starting at age three, and continuing until she died. She described one vision like this: “And the image I saw spoke: 'I, the highest blazing power, enkindle all sparks of life. I breath forth nothing deadly. With my wings I fly around the circle of the earth. I blaze above the beauty of the field, shine in the waters, and burn in the sun, the moon, and the stars. I, the fiery power, remain hidden in all these things; they burn in me. For I am life.'” Hildegard saw God as a blazing fire. Though she received visions of God, or messages from God, Hildegard was humble. Writing about another vision, she described herself like this: “Listen: there was once a king sitting on his throne. Around him stood great and wonderfully beautiful columns ornamented with ivory, bearing the banners of the king with great honor. Then it pleased the king to raise a small feather from the ground and he commanded it to fly. The feather flew, not because of anything in itself but because the air bore it along. Thus I am...a feather on the breath of God.” She thought of herself as light as a feather, not “weighty,”and called herself “untaught” and “unlearned.” For half her life, Hildegard kept her visions secret. She perhaps was afraid people would think she was insane. But at age forty-two she became severely ill, again. Hildegard interpreted this as God's punishment for bottling up her visions. She told a priest what was going on. He encouraged her to write her visions down. They became the basis for the first of the nine books she wrote, Scrivas, which, in Latin means “know the ways of the Lord.” After she started writing, she got better. This made Hildegard think sharing her visions was God's will. This is not to say she wasn't already busy with God's work. The nuns recognized her abilities early. By this point she was in charge of a large convent, elected by the other sisters. During her career she established two new convents, raising the funds herself. This was remarkable in an era when women rarely conducted business. Most were not even allowed to own property. In those days, convents served as hospices and hospitals. Hildegard became knowledgeable in the healing arts, especially dermatology—where she's considered the first expert ever. She studied botany intensively to understand the medicinal properties of plants, and put her learning into books. She was the first female botanist anywhere. She additionally wrote about the characteristics of foods and herbs. Today she'd be called a “natural healer.” Because she lived close to nature, Hildegard was an advocate for the environment. She wrote, “Who...trusts God will also honor the existing world, the course of sun and moon, the winds and air, the earth and water, everything...God created for the glory of human beings and for their protection. Human beings have no other ground to stand on. If they abandon this world, it will result in destruction by demons...” That's a good message for today, as we face a demonic oil spill in the Gulf. She took careful notes on what made patients better, and wrote medical texts. She advocated better hygiene, and installed running water and sewers in the two convents she built. Hildegard's influence spread far beyond the walls of her convent. At age seventy she began the first of four preaching missions. Traveling through Germany and France, she brought the Good News to common people, particularly preaching repentance. It was almost unheard of for a woman, especially an elderly nun, to preach in public, let alone travel widely and address huge congregations. But Hildegard's fame was such she drew big crowds. She was a composer, even with no musical training. She wrote some eighty songs, and produced the first known Passion Play. The music of the church in those days was Gregorian chant, called plainsong, because it was plain: simple, monophonic, usually sung without instruments. But Hildegard's songs were different. The common Gregorian chant had a range of less than an octave. Hildegard's vocal lines covered two octaves, or more. She encouraged the sisters to stretch themselves praising God. Her music is praised today for its “lovely, ethereal quality.”
She not only was an artist herself. She inspired artistry in others. Some
of the most beautiful illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages were
created by nuns in her convent to illustrate her books. Many scholars
think Hildegard designed them herself, and supervised their production.
In any history of women artists, she almost always is mentioned. Hildegard
even invented her own alphabet to help her nuns—many of whom were
illiterate—communicate with each other. For example, she wrote to the Holy Roman Emperor, Frederick the First: “O King, it is of utmost necessity that you take care how you act. In the mysterious vision, I see you acting like a child. You live an insane, absurd life before God. There still is time” to shape up. The Emperor never wrote back. But Hildegard kept after him. It was unprecedented in the Twelfth Century for a nun to challenge the Holy Roman Emperor and call him to task. One commentator called this an example of “social justice.” Hildegard took other stands that landed her in trouble. Near the end of her life she nursed a nobleman with a notorious reputation. As she came to know him she was convinced he was repentant and intended to change. Unfortunately he died soon after. She allowed the nobleman to be buried in a cemetery at her convent: sacred ground. But the local Bishop wouldn't have it. He had excommunicated the man, and wasn't about to allow him a Christian burial. He ordered the body dug up, and removed.
When Hildegard objected, the Bishop censured her. He forbade all singing
at her convent, and denied the nuns Communion. This was harsh. You can
imagine how important music was to Hildegard, being a composer. No Communion
meant no daily connection with the Body of Christ. Plus, if one of the
nuns died, she would face judgment without her sins forgiven. Their souls—and
future salvation--were at stake.
Still, this remarkable figure largely was forgotten, until around 1850.
At that time, her grave was dug up and she was re-interred. Nuns from
her convent began translating her works and bringing them public attention.
Today this once overlooked nun is known worldwide. A CD of her Gregorian
chants, Canticles of Ecstasy, is a best-seller. Hildegard also reminds us we shouldn't--and often can't—neglect or reject our calling. It took half her life for her to accept her visions, and share them with others. As a woman, largely uneducated, she had little standing in Medieval society. She thought herself nothing more than a feather on the breath of God. But God wanted to use her. God often chooses to use those the world rejects. St. Paul put it like this: “...God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are not, so that no one might boast in the presence of God” (I Cor. 1. 27-29, NRSV).
Hildegard had a calling. So do you and I. Let's not think too little of
ourselves. God wants to use us to advance God's Kingdom. Maybe astonishing
things will get accomplished through us, when we embrace and live our
calling, as Hildegard did. Why? Because they were the brides of Christ—and Christ deserved a bride at her most beautiful. From her ecstatic visions to the songs she wrote to the stunning manuscripts she commissioned to her elaborate nun's habits, Hildegard promoted a religion of joy. So also, we, as St. Paul Church, are called, through our Mission Statement, to “joyful and inspirational worship.” Let's thank God, and praise God, for the Good News of our salvation—and spread that Good News around. Victoria Sirota, a distinguished church musician and Episcopalian priest, has said, “If you know God, you know Hildegard.” That is, something of the creativity and goodness of God shone through her. I can think of no better way of closing than to quote her: “Be a wind, helping
those in need. That's good advice from a saint who actually lived it! Dr .Alex Gondola WON’T
YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR? In 1984 his red-zippered cardigan sweater (made by his mother) was put on display in a glass case in the Smithsonian. He was the recipient of almost 40 honorary degrees and the author of over twenty books. His program has been on TV for almost sixty years in reruns, now reaching its 3rd generation of children. The late Fred Rogers, “Mr. Rogers” was an American institution. What’s less known is that he was also an ordained minister in the United Presbyterian Church! “Mr. Rogers” was also The Reverend Fred Rogers. Which seems fitting to me because his positive and affirming attitude toward people (especially children) was the same kind of positive and affirming attitude you would expect to find in a church. One thing I liked about Mr. Rogers was the way he stressed neighborhood. Every program began with the same theme: “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood; it’s a beautiful day for a neighbor; would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor?” In a lot of programs, Mr. Rogers visited with his neighbors: Mr. McFeelie, the mailman (named after Fred Rogers’ own grandfather); Chef Brockett, the baker; Joe Negri, the music store owner; Betty Aberline, the pretty lady. You can tell I watched Mr. Rogers as a child! When he talked about neighbors and neighborhood, I think Mr. Rogers tapped into something that’s important to many Americans: being known by others; belonging to a community, feeling connected. I think many of us have experienced the joys of being part of a neighborhood in the past. A personal example: as most of you know, my wife Bonnie and I grew up in the small town of Hollis, New Hampshire. When we grew up there the population was 1,600, if you counted the 300 cows! Our town was so small, it seemed like a neighborhood. Everybody knew everyone, who they were, where they were from, where they worked and who they were related to. I remember the local police force. We knew both of them on a first-name basis: the part-time Chief, Harland Muzzy and his deputy, Lester. We called them “Muzz the Fuzz” and “Lester the Arrester!” They knew it, and didn’t mind. It was a lot of fun, growing up in a small town like that with its annual Strawberry Festival and Memorial Day Parade, the one picturesque, white Congregational church on the village green, strong scout troops and lots of community involvement. My family and Bonnie’s had “neighborhood” when we were growing up. As I understand that, in previous years, there was lots of that community feeling in the villages around Wapakoneta. Some long-time residents from Buckland or St. John’s have told me about the days when no one locked their doors. The days when villages would close down for parties and picnics, and everyone would bring something to share, and they’d all get together. Now there may be neighborhoods that still have that close feeling. Although, with the recent rural crime wave, I think today everyone locks their doors. But I suspect that sense of community, that sense of connection, that sense of neighbors working together closely is increasingly rare. Another personal example: Bonnie and I have lived on the same cul-de-sac for over six years. The neighbors are genuinely friendly. We wave, smile and exchange pleasantries when we meet on the street. Still, I’ve never actually sat down in anyone’s kitchen for a cup of coffee and a chat. Neither Bonnie nor I know all our neighbor’s last names. That’s in contrast with growing up in Hollis, where we knew every family for miles. But ironically, both of us are in contact with friends and former classmates through the Internet, around the country, and even as far away as Australia. Plus I have exchanged e-mails with brother and sister clergy in Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain and even Ukraine and Romania. In a sense most of our neighborhoods have expanded beyond the street where we live or our village to include people in lots of places around the globe. So maybe it’s
time for an enlarged understanding of who is my neighbor. Maybe it’s
time to be reminded our neighbors are not just the people who live next
door. It’s interesting to me that 2,000 years ago, Jesus himself
asked us to think about neighborliness in wider terms. Jesus’ redefinition
of the meaning of “neighbor” comes in his well-known parable
of the Good Samaritan. But Jesus, sensing he was being tested, turns the question around: “You went to law school. You passed the Bar Exam. Why don’t you tell us what the law say is necessary to inherit eternal life.” The lawyer
gives a stock answer, based on two passages from the Bible: “If
we want to inherit eternal life, we must love God with all our heart,
soul, strength and mind, and love our neighbor as ourselves.” Jesus
responds, “That’s a good answer. Go and do it, and you will
live.” Jesus wisely refuses to play games with the lawyer. Instead he removes all limitations by redefining “neighbor.” Our neighbor is anyone in need, says Jesus, like the poor, neglected, beaten traveler left for dead on the Jericho Road. The kindly Samaritan who cares for the wounded man, and who provides for his recovery, is offered as an example. Jesus tells the lawyer, his hearers—and us—to “go and do the same.” One way we care for neighbors in need is through our benevolence giving. This month it all goes to OCWM, Our Church’s Wider Mission. Here’s a listing of just a few ways your gifts to the United Church of Christ have helped individuals, families or communities around the United States and the world. Your giving supplements salaries for Native American pastors serving small, struggling UCC congregations on or near reservations in the American Southwest. It additionally provides seminary scholarships for American Indian students so they can make it through school and return to their communities to serve. Your giving has funded educational projects for poor communities in Appalachia. Your gifts have helped train inner city youth to develop and maintain vegetable gardens on previously blighted or vacant inner city lots. This provides needed nutrition, improves the neighborhood and offers a meaningful activity for urban teens. Your generosity has helped fund partial funding for “Family Promise,” an organization on the Mississippi Gulf Coast that advocates for homeless children and adults. Since May 1, your giving has been sent, along with that of other mainline Protestant churches, to the Gulf of Mexico, to help residents there to cope with the oil spill. Recently UCC churches donated well over two million dollars to Haiti, to help them rebuild after the January quake. This has bought one hundred tons of food and one hundred tons of seed, plus farm tools to help between three thousand and five thousand villagers to start over. As you can see, your gifts to the UCC go a long way in helping people in our newly defined neighborhood, the world. As we think
about our benevolent giving this month, let’s remember the Good
Samaritan and his willingness to help a stranger. Let’s remember
Jesus’ command to “go and do the same.” Remember, our
neighbors around America and the world are asking us, “Won’t
you be my neighbor?” When you and I respond with love and concern,
a new kind of neighborhood begins to grow. ================================================================ “You’re
a Grand Old Flag” You're a grand old flag, Most of us are
familiar with that patriotic tune. But do you know where it comes from?
George Cohan, the Broadway playwright, wrote it for a musical he was producing,
which he also starred in, in 1906. Cohan’s musical pretty much is forgotten today. But his show-stopping song lives on. Patriotism inspired it. Cohan was moved to write it after he shared a train ride with a veteran of the Battle of Gettysburg (many still were alive in 1906). The old man was carrying a much-cherished, but battered flag. When Cohan asked about it, the old vet replied, “She’s a grand old rag.” Cohan liked the line, but eventually changed the word “rag” to “flag.” Since 1906 his song has been part of American culture, now for more than a hundred years. But, did you know, there have been lots of “grand old flags” in American history? We have a wonderful collection with us today. Each says something about what we value as Americans. Let me show you a few of our grand old flags. Of course, are all reproductions. This first one is called the Bedford Flag. When the Minutemen gathered at Concord Bridge to face the British, this colorful banner waved overhead. The arm and sword, plus the Latin motto, “Conquer or Die,” symbolized their determination to fight for their liberty, if necessary, to death. Forty-nine patriots were killed, and thirty-nine wounded on that day. This is the oldest flag of the United States. Here’s our first Navy flag. John Paul Jones sailed under this. Stretched across the flag is a rattlesnake with the warning, “Don’t Tread on Me!” Ben Franklin first used the rattlesnake in a newspaper cartoon. It was a popular symbol of protest, especially since the rattle was believed to be made of thirteen segments, representing thirteen colonies. I’ve never examined a rattlesnake up close—have you? So I don’t know if that’s true, or not! But Ben Franklin said, famously “Honesty is the best policy.” So, I guess it’s safe to take his word on the thirteen rattles…. This third banner is also a Navy flag. In the fall of 1775, at his own expense, George Washington outfitted six small schooners to defend the coastline. They came to be called “Washington’s Cruisers,” and this is their flag. He was not only the “Father of our Country” but the Father of our Navy. Notice the pious sentiment, “An appeal to heaven, which reminds us of Washington’s faith. Here’s the first flag of the American Army. It was adopted when the Army officially was formed on New Year’s Day, 1776. It has thirteen stripes. But in the center is a British symbol. This stood for loyalty not to the English King, but to the principals of Parliamentary democracy, the right of representation, for which the colonists were fighting. Here’s
another, early battle flag. It shows an American patriot caging the British
lion. Its Latin motto reads “I refuse to be dominated.” Here’s is a replica of the Star Spangled Banner that inspired our national anthem.Notice it has fifteen stars, in a slightly different arrangement. There were more states at by then. Francis Scott Key, a Washington lawyer, saw it flying over Fort McHenry in Baltimore when the British attacked in the War of 1812. It flew through the night, and still was there “in the dawn’s early light.” The battle-torn Fort McHenry flag now is on display in the Smithsonian. These flags symbolize a lot of things. Someone put it like this: “The flag of the United States stands for the first settlers who left their homes and came across the sea to hew out homes in the wilderness. It stands for the hardships of Jamestown and Plymouth; it stands for the hardy pioneers who climbed the Alleghenies and began to conquer the boundless west; it stands for the Declaration of Independence; it stands for Concord and Lexington, Valley Forge and Yorktown; it stands for those men who formed a new government, Washington and Adams, Hamilton and Jefferson, Madison and Marshall, and hundreds of others; it stands for all those who died to make this land free. All the blood and treasure that have been poured out to make this a land of liberty and opportunity are part of this flag.” Of course, on July 4, we remember not only our flags but the men and women who fought and died to defend them. Consider this poem by Michael Marks, an award-winning author. It’s entitled “A Day to Remember.” In crimson hue the missiles
flew and cracked the sky asunder, He’d heard before
the mortars roar in jungles far away, A sudden movement in the
night broke through his reverie, “Oh Grandpa did you
see ‘em?” asked the boy with shining eyes, Then with a kiss on Grandpa’s
cheek he jumped and dashed away He raised his eyes to heaven
where the flag now proudly flew, And thinking back upon those
nights so full of pain and fear, With humble heart he took
his place with patriots of lore, So, today, let’s not only recall our grand old flags, but the men and women who have made, or continue to make sacrifices to protect and defend them. Our honor roll of service, listing those in uniform with a connection to St. Paul Church, is in your bulletin. Pray for them. Remember them. Thank them. While you’re at it, thank a veteran. Also let’s remember that, when we pledge allegiance to the flag, we call ourselves “one nation under God.” Not, as a humorist once put it, “one nation, under Canada.” Or “one nation, under 14,000 pairs of golden arches.” What does that mean, to be “one nation, under God?” Is it just an empty phrase? Is saying it simply reflexive, like saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes—a customary saying missing any religious meaning? Or should it mean something for American to call ourselves one nation “under God?” Abraham Lincoln was not only, to my mind, America’s greatest President, but also one of America’s great theologians. During the Civil War, Lincoln thought long and hard about what it meant to be one nation “under God.” In fact, he used a similar phrase in his Gettysburg Address. At one point during the Civil War, Lincoln called for a national Day of Prayer and Fasting, Lincoln first recounted God’s goodness to our nation. Then he challenged America to live with renewed faith. He concluded, “Those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord.” The author of our Scripture put it somewhat differently. First the Psalmist reminds us we literally are under God: “The Lord looks down from heaven; he sees all humankind…” Then he tells us that armaments and military might cannot be our ultimate source of strength. “The king is not saved by his…army,” he notes; “a warrior is not delivered by his great strength. The war horse (or M-1 Abrams tank) is a vain hope for victory…by its great might it cannot save.” So, what, ultimately, will keep a nation safe? The Psalmist answers, “Truly the eye of the Lord is on them that fear him, on those who hope in (God’s) steadfast love” (Ps. 33.13-19, NRSV). As Lincoln put it, again, “Those nations only are blessed whose God is the Lord.” Let me suggest on this July 4th that every time we say the Pledge of Allegiance, we renew a commitment to live as “one nation, under God.” We don’t say “God is on our side,” but rather, “We will strive to be on God’s side,” until that great day comes when there is “liberty and justice for all.” For, as our Morning Thought puts it, “Patriotism consists not just of waving the flag but in striving that our country shall be righteous as well as strong” (James Bryce). Dr. Alex Gondola THOSE WHO ARE ABLE, PLEASE STAND FOR THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIENCE TO OUR GRAND OLD FLAG
“Saints
Alive: This past week I conducted an informal survey. I asked a random sample of half a dozen people, “Would you like to hear a sermon on Saint Thomas Aquinas?” No one said, “Yes.” Not even to be polite! Several individuals indicated they weren’t quite sure who Thomas Aquinas was, although they’d heard of him. Others knew exactly who he was—and that was the problem. One woman, on hearing his name, had an almost violent reaction: probably a bad flashback from freshman Philosophy class. Saint Thomas Aquinas lived just a little after Saint Francis of Assisi (who, after Saint Nicholas and maybe Saint Patrick, is almost everyone’s favorite saint). However, according to my brief, unscientific survey, Thomas Aquinas didn’t appear to be anyone’s favorite saint. Hopefully, by the end of this sermon, some attitudes toward Thomas might change. By the way, our graduates, heading off to college, might especially want to pay attention. Because St. Thomas inevitably will come up on some test. You’ll learn about him in Ethics, Philosophy, Medieval History, Western Civilization, Political Science, as well as in Religion. So, consider this an initiation to college classes. Thomas Aquinas was born around 1225 CE in his family’s castle in southern Italy. He was the last of eleven children. Thomas’ father was the Count of Aquino, and related to royalty as well. His cousin was Frederick the Second, called “The Wonder of the World,” the Holy Roman Emperor. Another relative was the King of Sicily, a third the King of France. Thomas Aquinas was “to the manor born.” At age five, his parents sent him to the nearby Benedictine monastery of Monte Cassino. Younger sons of noblemen often were sent into religious life, whether they happened to be religious or not. Since the oldest son would inherit the property and title, there was little left for younger sons to do. Monastic life was considered honorable. Perhaps his family hoped Thomas would become abbot of that wealthy monastery, like his cousin. Thomas apparently did have a natural inclination for religion. He was a large, solemn, serious boy. who rarely spoke. So he startled his teachers with what was said to be his first question on arriving at the monastery. Out of the blue he asked them, “What is God?” Thomas received his primary education at the Benedictine school at Monte Cassino. When he was fourteen he was sent to the newly founded University of Naples. At age nineteen he was sent from Naples to the University of Paris, at that time the Harvard of the Middle Ages. He also made a decision that caused a family crisis. Thomas joined the “upstart” Dominican Order, called the “Black Friars,” for their black cassocks. They were also known as the Order of Preachers (O. P. for short). The Dominicans were mendicant friars. Like the followers of Saint Francis of Assisi, the Franciscans, they were expected to live in extreme poverty, traveling around, preaching the Word, begging for food. Thomas’ family was scandalized. It was one thing for him to become a monk, maybe eventually the Abbot of a wealthy, well-known abbey. But becoming an impoverished, traveling preacher looked like religious fanaticism. It was if he had joined a cult. Becoming a Black Friar made Thomas a “black sheep” in his family. So, his brother Rinaldo had him kidnapped and brought back to the family castle for “deprogramming.” Thomas was kept in the castle, virtually a prisoner, for a year. The family tried every means possible to get him to change his mind. Legend has it his brothers even hired an attractive “lady of the night” to visit Thomas in his cell to tempt him to break his vow of chastity. Thomas wasn’t interested. Instead, on seeing her he rushed to the fireplace, picked out a burning log and chased the terrified woman away. Then in righteous indignation he burned the sign of the cross into his door. Eventually his family relented and released him. Thomas moved to the Dominican house in Paris. He earned a Master of Arts. Then his superiors sent him to Cologne, Germany to study with Albertus Magnus, Albert the Great, the premier philosopher/theologian of his time. Thomas was a brilliant student. But his brilliance wasn’t always acknowledged. Part of the problem was his appearance. He was a tall, heavy man with an enormous head. G. K. Chesterton, the British writer and wit (who himself stood six feet, two inches tall, and weighed about three hundred pounds) called Thomas Aquinas “a huge bull of a man, fat and slow and quiet.” Thomas was big, although the stories they had to cut a circle in the table before he could sit at it probably aren’t true. Thomas undoubtedly was aware he was physically unattractive. Professor Jeremy Adams of Southern Methodist University notes that Thomas once wrote, “…he is not wholly happy who presents an ugly appearance, since by this fact he is made contemptible and despicable in the eyes of others.” Professor Adams wonders, “Was Thomas thinking of himself?” His fellow students labeled Thomas, “the dumb ox,” with “dumb” meaning not “stupid” but “silent.” His teacher, Albert the Great, however, set them straight. He predicted this “dumb ox’s bellows would “fill the world.” They did. Thomas returned to the University of Paris to complete his education. He received the equivalent of the Ph.D. and began to teach. But his very presence on the faculty created controversy. The secular professors resented the presence teachers in religious orders, like Thomas, who owed their allegiance to superiors outside the university. It didn’t help that Thomas had been given a special dispensation to receive his degree without completing all the requirements. The King of France and the Pope had to intervene on behalf of Thomas. It was the first of many academic controversies that would mark his career. Teaching in the medieval university was hard work—and few worked harder than Thomas. Lectures were held five days a week. They began at 6 AM (did you get that, college students, classes began a 6 AM five days a week!) and continued, with a brief break, until noon. There often were additional lectures after lunch. Thomas also engaged in numerous, voluntary debates at night. He still found time to preach in local churches, and to author sixty titles. Later in his career, when his responsibilities multiplied, Thomas would dictate to four secretaries at once, each seated in a corner of the room, to keep up with his correspondence. He was a gifted teacher, preacher and writer, whose goal was always to try to make things clear. His most famous
work was his Summa Theologica, or “summary of theology.” It
consisted of more than ten thousand objections and replies to critical
questions about God and the world, presented in something like a dialogue
form. Thomas considered issues like the existence of God, the nature of
humankind, sin, salvation, ethics, marriage and the family, politics,
what makes for a just war and aesthetics. His arguments are logical, tightly
constructed, elaborate—and in their own way, beautiful. Church historian
Martin Marty has compared them to the impressive, soaring, complicated
Gothic cathedrals that were being constructed during Thomas’ lifetime.
Among his most famous contributions were his Five Proof of the Existence
of God. Few find these proofs of God’s existence completely convincing
today. But Thomas Aquinas gets credit for trying his proofs.
Ironically, the supremely logical and highly rational Thomas had an experience toward the end of his life that seemed to undermine logic and rationality. On December 6, 1272, while celebrating Mass on the Feast of Saint Nicolas, Thomas apparently had a vision or revelation. He saw, perhaps in a flash, that everything he had written up to that point was nothing but straw. Thomas never wrote another word after that day. He left his Summa Theologica, summary of theology, incomplete. His death came within fifteen months. Thomas was summoned by the Pope to help lead a church council in Lyons, France. Along the way he stopped to visit a niece at her castle. At supper he dined on eels—which possibly had gone bad. Thomas grew deathly ill. His condition may have been worsened by the bump on the head he had received that day while riding. Or, as Dante speculated later, Thomas Aquinas may have been poisoned. He was, after all, a member of one Europe’s most powerful families and did have important political connections. In any case, he died within a short time at a nearby abbey. In 1323, less than fifty years after his death, Thomas was canonized. He came to be called “the Angelic Doctor,” and was named patron saint of colleges and universities. That’s an all-too-quick sketch of the life of Saint Thomas Aquinas. In what ways can we say this saint is alive today? To me, Thomas lives on in his example of Christian commitment. Here was a man born into power and wealth that willingly gave it up. Material wealth did not tempt him. Once Thomas, standing on a hill overlooking Paris, said he would rather have a Bible commentary on Matthew than all the wealth in the city. He meant it. From his early commitment to the “radical” Dominicans, to his embrace of chastity in the face of temptation (remember the courtesan in the castle) to his life of hard work and poverty, Thomas was consistent in his commitment. To me he’s a good example of taking the “hard, narrow gate.” Though the way is hard, it leads to blessing (Matthew 4. 14). That’s a good lesson before going off to college. Secondly, Thomas reminds us that being a committed Christian shouldn’t mean turning off your mind. Some say he was the greatest thinker between 500 and 1,500 CE, a period of a thousand years. Aquinas understood that reason, logic and hard thinking must be put in the service of God. He didn’t shy away from confronting the intellectual challenges of his time. In his day, that meant merging Christianity with the best of Greek thinking. Thomas loved the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his mind (Matthew 22. 37-39). So must we. There’s plenty of call—and room—for learning, growing, thinking hard and facing intellectual challenge in the Christian life. Like Thomas, we are called to give God the best of our minds. Thirdly and finally, Thomas seems also to have fulfilled the second half of the Great Commandment. He not only loved God. He loved his neighbor as he loved himself. This huge man, so often made fun of by others, so often embroiled in controversies, seems not to have born anyone any ill will. In his thousands of pages of writing, Thomas never attacked anyone. It was said of him, “His soul was at once humble and sweet.” Saint Thomas Aquinas said “To love anyone is nothing more that to wish that person good.” Thomas’ words and example point us back to the wonder and mystery of agape love. God has given us that kind of love, love that wishes and wills our good. We are called to love one another, as God has loved us (John 13. 32). That was Jesus’ new commandment. Thomas Aquinas tried to live it out. That sounds like a pretty good summary of theology to me. Dr.
Alex Gondola ================================================================
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