holy cross / low sunday / march 30 2008

"Doubting" Thomas

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The closing sentence of today’s Gospel reading contains a very profound truth lying at the center of the Christian teaching. It encapsulates the whole PURPOSE of the Gospel:

These [things that Jesus did] are written [in this book] that YOU may believe that Jesus is the Christ – the Messiah – the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name.

The purpose of the Gospel is to tell the TRUTH of what God has done for us in Jesus Christ. And what God wrought in him, and with him, through him, for him, and by him. The Gospel is most fundamentally the TRUTH of who Jesus is – and this truth contains in itself the life-giving, recreating POWER of God – made perfectly manifest in the resurrection of Jesus Christ – in the fact that THIS MAN who was also the Son of God, who was murdered, CAME BACK TO LIFE, and thus broke the power of death forever – a power which had held everyone until Jesus came and made it otherwise.

These things are written that you may BELIEVE that Jesus is who he says he is, and that believing, you may have LIFE – the same life that he has…. “life in his name.”

The gift that he gives, the gift of “life in his name” is a consequence of his coming to give us everything that he has and everything, in fact, that he IS. “In him was life” (John 1) – so through faith in him, we receive life – the kind of life that is not merely snuffed out by disease or old age or murder.

But we should also notice the other gifts that the Lord gives concomitantly. Two times he says to them: “Peace be with you.” The peace of the Lord is a psychological FACT for those who have “life in his name.” I mean “psychological” in the literal Greek sense of “soulish”. When we come to know ourselves in relation to Jesus – as his disciples, his friends, his brothers – then we will come to know ourselves as HEIRS OF GOD. And as this conviction wakes up in our hearts, then we will have peace – because then we will come to know and to FEEL the truth of what Saint Paul said: “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 height, nor depth, not anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8.37ff).

It is this coming-to-know Jesus in faith – as our Lord, as our friend, and most intimately, as our BROTHER – that we find peace and life – the kind rooted in love, which doesn’t grow old or wear out, but casts out fear, and brings healing.

And most importantly: Jesus gives the gift of the Holy Spirit – which is shown to be part and parcel of his gift of himself, the outpouring of his own life – because it is given with his breath, which brings to mind the event of the total outpouring of his life. In Mark’s Gospel Jesus’s death is depicted in terms of his breathing: “And Jesus uttered a loud cry, and breathed his last” (Mark 15.37).

And so we find him here again, having taken up his life again, breathing on the disciples the very inner life of God – the divine breath, the Ruach, the Holy Spirit.

Life, peace, and the Holy Spirit. These gifts we find through faith in Jesus Christ. But this leaves the very practical question of how this WORKS. What is it to have faith in Jesus? How do we get life and peace and the Holy Spirit by faith in Jesus?

In this passage from John, we see in St. Thomas what a response to Jesus IN FAITH looks like. Many people make much of “doubting Thomas” – focusing on Thomas’s incredulity before he had encountered the risen Lord. But in so doing, they risk missing the point. The story is not about Thomas’s doubt before encountering the risen Lord, but about his FAITH AFTER the encounter. Before they saw the risen Lord for themselves, ALL of the disciples experienced the same kind of doubt that Saint Thomas shows here. The notable thing is his faith IN the encounter with Christ. Thomas says “My Lord and my God!” A clear, resounding, unambiguous, and PERSONAL affirmation of the truth of Jesus: Thomas recognizes him to be him whom he claimed to be: both Lord and God.

There are two kinds of responses to the risen Christ depicted in the Bible. When the risen and gloried Christ appears with his wounds having become marks of victory, there is the response of Thomas, on the one hand: where we recognize the victorious actuality of the impossible: that this man in whom we had placed our hope and our trust really is risen, that he really is both Lord and God, that death really has been swallowed up in victory…. Or there is the response of “the tribes of the earth” portrayed in Revelation: Behold, he is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see him, everyone who pierced him; and all tribes of the earth will WAIL on account of him” (Rev. 1.7). These are the possibilities: The latter, a doleful realization that Christ has conquered, but that I am a child of the darkness and that I’ve been defeated – but the former, the confession of Thomas, is a recognition that he has conquered, but that he is my Lord and God, and that I therefore have conquered with him.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

holy cross / easter sermon / march 23 2008

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Alleluia. Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by dying, and bestowing life on those who were dead.

Christ is indeed risen from the dead. All four of the Gospel accounts are unambiguous on this point. Jesus Christ, the man from Nazareth, the man who was put to death by Pontius Pilate, who had been nailed to a tree, who had had his heart pierced by a lance, who was wrapped in a shroud and put in a grave – THIS man, on the third day after he was murdered, rose again from the dead. He rose and went around, and many of his friends saw him and spoke with him.

This is the central mystery of the Christian faith. In the end, beyond the bluster and the politicking, at the metaphysical bedrock of the faith, to be a Christian means to believe THIS – that the only and eternal Son of God became a man, that he was born of a woman, that he grew up, that he was tortured to death by Roman authority, and that three days later he rose again from the dead.

There are all kinds of reasons not to believe this. It sounds like a myth. And this time of year, there has evolved a little cottage industry of Biblical scholars who will appear on cable television to introduce you to a man they call “the historical Jesus.” He’s usually someone around whom one can pretty easily wrap one’s mind. He’s a sage, a prophet, a rabbi, a liberator, a Marxist revolutionary, a capitalist revolutionary, a proto-feminist, a gay rights activist. The most excruciatingly “relevant” biographical detail I’ve ever heard propounded by the television scholars is that Jesus crossed the Hindu Kush, where he learned from Tibetan gurus and lamas how to be the all-round awesome guy who went on to capture the world’s imagination.

All of this represents a common impulse – the impulse to package the Christ into something marketable, something consumable. We want the Christ to be something around which we can wrap our minds – and we understand politics, we understand the impulse to liberate, the desire for liberation; Tibet captures the imagination. So Jesus, in upper middle class, educated, white culture, takes on our form: he comes to look like us. His values and teachings come to reflect the values and beliefs of people who drink Starbucks coffee and listen to NPR.

But all of this bluster obscures the metaphysical claim lying like a scandal at the center of the Christian faith: that the Son of God became a man, was nailed to a tree until he was dead, and three days later rose again. If you want to figure out whether you can believe something, see if you can believe THAT. It isn’t easy. Its much easier to believe in politics or the esoteric. St. Paul wrote:

“For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. (1 Cor. 1).”

We don’t need to package Christ so that he’s marketable, so that he’s palatable, so that we can wrap our bourgeois minds around the mystery he is. We need to MYTHOLOGIZE him. We need to hold up the central impossibility at the center of our faith. We need to hold it up in front of others in the conviction that it GIVES LIFE, and we need to hold it up in front of ourselves as a challenge for the continual renewal of our own minds.

What difference does it make whether Christ really rose from the grave? It makes all the difference in the world. My favorite 20th century philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein, wrote the following, in a moment of candor:

“What inclines even me to believe in Christ’s Resurrection? It is as though I play with the thought. – If he did not rise from the dead, then he decomposed in the grave like any other man. He is dead and decomposed. In that case he is a teacher like any other and can no longer help; and once more we are orphaned and alone. So we have to content ourselves with wisdom and speculation. We are in a sort of hell where we can do nothing but dream, roofed in, as it were, and cut off from heaven. But if I am to be REALLY saved, -- what I need is certainty – not wisdom, dreams, or speculation – and this certainty is faith,. And faith is faith in what is needed by my heart, my soul, not my speculative intelligence. For it is my soul with its passions, as it were with its flesh and blood, that has to be saved, not my abstract mind. Perhaps we can say: Only love can believe the Resurrection. Or: It is love that believes the Resurrection. We might say: Redeeming love believed even in the Resurrection; holds fast even to the Resurrection.”

The Resurrection means that what was hitherto the central and equalizing fact of human existence: DEATH – that death has been overcome, once and forever. The resurrection of Jesus means that death no longer holds universal sway – that there was ONE man for whom death was not the last word. It means that the sort of life possessed by this man was the sort of life that is not susceptible to the power of corruption.

And if you have ever faced death, either your own or the death of someone you love, then you know that this would be truly good news: that the horrible, silent question mark standing at the end of every human life, has been taken away, and it in its place is light and life, fulfillment and peace.

Our Easter proclamation is our insistence on exactly this point. That the impossible is, in fact, TRUE. That this myth came to pass on a hillside outside Jerusalem. That Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death. That belief in him and incorporation into his life means immortality. Alleluia.

holy cross / good friday sermon / march 21 2008

This sermon comments on the poem Friday's Child by W.H. Auden.

WH Auden was born in 1907 in York, England. He was educated at Christ Church, Oxford. After having abandoned the faith at about the age of 13 and dabbling in what he would later called the “Christian heresies” of William Blake and Sigmund Freud and Karl Marx, Auden immigrated to America and entered the Episcopal Church and lived out his days as an observant churchman.

Temporally, I think this poem speaks clearly to the experience of Good Friday; and it expresses, I think, a common and appropriate psychological response to Good Friday – common, that is, I think among Christians who approach Holy Week and Good Friday intentionally and prayerfully. The poem also gives theological expression to the contemporary cultural situation within which the Church, and the Church’s people, now find themselves called to bear witness to Jesus. Many, especially in Western Europe and America, see a kind of seismic shift in Western culture after World War II and the Nazi Holocaust. We live in a time when indeed the old “analogies are rot” – wherein the idols of human ways of believing, at place sense the enlightenment, have been violently shaken and perhaps overthrown entirely. Think of the sure confidence of secular culture, even in America, beginning really with the Puritan settlement of New England – the kind of certainty that found expression in Manifest Destiny, in the pervasive confidence of enlightened rationalism coming out of the Protestant Reformation, and in the political systems laid on the foundations of such people as Blackstone, Locke, and Montesquieu – or, nearer to us, as the founding fathers of the United States.

Friday’s Child is dedicated to the memory of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who was a contemporary of Auden’s. Bonhoeffer, as many of you probably know, was a German Lutheran pastor and theologian who studied at Union (Theological) Seminary in New York. His denomination had actively opposed the Nazi rise to power, and Bonhoeffer returned to Germany out of a conviction that he was called to share the fate of his people. As the situation deteriorated Bonhoeffer became involved in a plot to assassinate Hitler. In 1943 he was arrested after money used to help Jews escape to Switzerland was traced to him. The contours of the plot were uncovered and after being shuffled through various prisons and concentration camps for a year and a half, Bonhoeffer was executed in 1945 at Flossenburg, three weeks before the liberation of Berlin. Bonhoeffer had written movingly about the cost of being a disciple of Jesus. He said

…cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate.

Costly grace is the treasure hidden in the field; for the sake of it a man will gladly go and sell all that he has. It is the pearl of great price to buy which the merchant will sell all his goods. It is the kingly rule of Christ, for whose sake a man will pluck out the eye which causes him to stumble, it is the call of Jesus Christ at which the disciple leaves his nets and follows him.

Costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must the asked for, the door at which a man must knock.

Such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. It is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. It is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. Above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: “ye were bought at a price, and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. Above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us.

Costly grace is the Incarnation of God.

And Bonhoeffer was richly filled with God’s costly grace. His martyrdom was at once obscene and beautiful in the way that only a martyrdom can be – like our Lord’s own suffering and death. At dawn on April 9, 1945, Bonhoeffer was stripped naked in his cell and tortured and ridiculed by the guards. He was led naked into the prison yard where he was made to hanged by piano wire from a meat hook. His hanging lasted half an hour before he died.

In the words of Auden’s poem: this kind of cruelty, perpetrated on such an enormous scale in our time, is what has left all the analogies rot upon which our senses hitherto based belief…. When we are faced with such cruelty, such devastation, such suffering – we can have the experience of being cognitively stripped – of being denuded of all the ground-rules of our believing: all those things that we think God is – like justice and goodness and beauty and mercy and compassion and love – we can find all of that stripped away, mocked, obscenely inverted, or entirely evacuated from our experience, left to hang and to suffocate. And we don’t have to run up against something as spectacular as a genocide to have this experience of epistemic devastation. It can happen – indeed for us it usually happens – in the middle of something as cruelly mundane as cancer or a car crash or Alzheimer’s or a suicide in the family.

At such times – all that we’ve learned from Scripture or heard in church rings hollow. It has no foothold in the soul. And this can be the most painful thing for a Christian – just when we need the Lord’s consolation and mercy the most, to find that its disappeared, along with the Lord himself, withdrawn, having descended to the dead – and we have to endure having learned “all proofs or disproofs that we tender / of his existence are returned / unopened to the sender.”

Mother Therese had this experience. Some of you may have read the recent book of her letters and writings called “Come be my Light” – where we learn that her spiritual life was a rarely mitigated experience of this kind of epistemic divestment, for over fifty years. Fifty years of earnest and constant seeking after the Lord, and his constant withdrawal beyond the horizon of our apprehension. The Lover in the Song of Solomon says:

I sought him whom my soul loves;
I sought him, but found him not;
I called him, but he gave no answer.

The endurance of such things is precisely the via dolorosa, the way of suffering: its what it is to take up your cross daily and trudge with Jesus up to Golgotha, to choose with him moment by moment continually to plunge into the darkness of psychic desolation – the sword of grief piercing your own heart also, in the awful emptiness and silence. In the words in Auden’s poem: Meanwhile, a silence on the cross, / As dead as we shall ever be, / speaks of some total gain or loss, / and you and I are free / to guess from the insulted face / just what appearances he saves / by suffering in a public place / a death reserved for slaves”.

It is precisely this freedom to guess – or as Auden calls it at the beginning of the poem, this freedom “to choose” that’s so horrifying, and yet which is God’s own most awesome gift to us. Christians encounter it in a way that MATTERS in these times of desolation and suffering. Because THEN we’re really stripped, then the choice is a REAL choice: not based on rotten analogies, but based on what von Balthazar called “the obedience of a corpse.” The question every believer must ask himself is: Who do YOU say that I am. Sooner or later we will be asked this question at Golgotha, at the place of a skull. Who do you say that I am? This corpse hanging on a tree – who abandoned all his good and useful teaching, all his miracle working in Galilee – who set his eyes toward Jerusalem, and came here for THIS. Who do you say that I am?

I want to leave you with two thoughts. Today we are left in silence before the cross – we end this liturgy with the really horrifying fact that the Lord comes into his Kingdom on the cross: IESUS NAZARENUS REX IUDEORUM.

I would like to leave you at the foot of the cross. But I would like to point out that if you are at the foot of the cross, you are with Mary. If you’re at the foot of the cross, you’re standing there with Mary. Our task is to hold to Jesus in faith, with Mary, even here. Mary’s greatness lies in the fact that she held on in faith to Jesus. We keep finding her in the Gospels, next to Jesus, despite her constant discovery of the rotten analogies: depite having constantly to face the identity of her Son outpacing her ability to understand, hearing him say “How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I would be in my father’s house?” and “Woman what have you to do with me? My hour has not yet come,” and “Who are my mother and my brothers? Everyone who hears the word of God and keeps it is my sister and my brother and my mother…” And finally on the cross she holds on in faith even as the most intimate analogies are stripped away. Msgr. Romano Guardini said: “…at last [Jesus] severed the very bond of son-ship, appointing another, the man beside her under the cross, to take his place! On the highest, thinnest pinnacle of creation, Jesus stood alone, face to face with the justice of God. [And Mary’s greatness is in that] From the depths of her co-agony on Golgotha, Mary, with a final bound of faith, accepted this double separation – and once again stood beside him!”

Our vocation is – with Mary – to confess Jesus to be as Messiah even in the face of the cross’s awful silence, to hear in that silence the voice of God’s total self-disclosure, and to know Jesus to be our king and savior by knowing “his suffering in a public place / a death reserved for slaves.”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

holy cross / maundy thursday sermon / march 20 2008

The outline of this sermon comes from the Instructions to the Newly Baptized of St. Cyril of Jerusalem.

Tonight we celebrate Maundy Thursday. As I mention every year, the word “Maundy” comes from the Latin phrase “Mandatum novum” – or New Commandment – the phrase from St. John’s Gospel, where the Lord says “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; even as I have loved you, that you also love one another.” And the Epistle of 1 John, John writes “Beloved, let us love one another; for love is of God, and he who loves is born of God and knows God.”

The Lord’s MANDATUM NOVUM, his new commandment, is that are to love one another as he has loved us, because love is from God. If we love, then we show that we are born of God, and that we know God.

Tonight we celebrate the institution of the holy Eucharist. It is a fitting celebration to go under the name “Maundy Thursday” – as it is in fact the institution of the Lord’s own loving self-gift. It is mystically axiomatic that the Eucharist is the fountain of love, because it is the sacramental prism through which our Lord’s own self-gift is refracted, by which he continually gives himself to us – in which the sacrifice of the Cross is re-presented to us – presented to us again and anew.

For God is love (1 John 4.16), and Jesus is God. When Jesus gives himself, it is the self0-gift of God, who is love. In the Eucharist therefore we have the divine gift of pure love to and for us. In this respect St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians:

“For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said, "This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me." For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes.

It is the Lord himself who took bread and said “this is my body”, who took wine and said “this is my blood.” The teaching about the Lord’s real presence in the Eucharist is not some bizarre doctrine invented by men. It is simply a reiteration of what the Lord himself claimed. We may therefore approach the sacrament in the confidence that we are communing with God in love. For it is God’s own mandate, part and parcel of God’s own self-disclosure.

And indeed the Lord did not equivocate. He did not say that this is like his body, or merely a symbol of his body. In fact, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you, he says. And John says that “After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him.”

These are difficult truths, because they are spiritual truths. These are truths apprehended by faith. All the most central truths of Christianity are like this, including the most fundamental truth: that Jesus Christ, the only and eternal Son of God, was born of a Virgin, and died for our sins on the Cross. When people tell me they have trouble believing in our Lord’s real presence in the Eucharist, my reaction is that THAT is not the difficult teaching – the difficult teaching is that God himself gave himself to us and for us on the cross, that God, who made the heavens and the earth, was nailed to a tree and died. If you can believe that – and you HAVE TO believe that to be a Christian – then surely you can believe that the gift of the Cross is refracted – is re-represented – in the Eucharist.

The Lord gave himself to us once for all on the Cross – but his gift of himself on the Cross is renewed at every mass, on every altar, every day, in every part of the world. For he promised that he would be with us ALWAYS – because that is what true love is: the real and abiding and mutual presence of the lover and the beloved. It was the Lord’s will not to give himself for us once, and then to cease to give, but to give himself for us not only once, but always and forever. And so he gave us the Eucharist: the glass in which the eyes of faith apprehend the all-overcoming love of God in Jesus Christ.

Inspired by the Holy Spirit, David sang in the OT of “bread which strengthens our heart, and oil which gives us a shining countenance”. He thus prophesied of the Eucharist – the nuptial feast which gives us strength, because it is God’s gift of himself to us, and which makes the countenance of the faithful glad.

When we, with faith, receive Christ’s gift to us, we allow him to build himself up within us – we allow his grace (which is his own self-gift) to strengthen our faith, to knit us ever more closely to himself. This is how Christ is honored in our bodies (Phil. 1.20), and how we “become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1.4), how we, as St. Paul says, “attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ” (Ephesians 4.13).

And this is why these two mysteries are yoked together: the MANDATUM NOVUM, the Lord’s command that we love one another as he has loved us, and the institution of the Eucharist. Because the Eucharist is the fountain of God’s love: where the once and forever gift of his Son on Calvary is perpetually given to us and renewed within us.

Therefore “let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God” (Heb. 12.1-2).

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

catholicism 101 -- part 7/8

CATHOLICISM 101

(The outline of this series is taken from Father Vernon Staley’s book The Catholic Religion.)

Church of the Holy Cross
March 9, 2008

Part 7
Christian Duty – Initiation into the Life of Grace / The (beginning of the) Sacramental Life

- We have seen what the Church is – that it is the sphere within which God is active, the sphere of grace; that it is the home of the Truth. But what about individuals? How do we stand in relation to the Church?

• We are concerned with those who are within the Church (this is, after all, a discussion within a church).

• ALL PEOPLE (including those who are not members of the Church), from our point of view, should maintain an open and suppliant heart. They should constantly seek the truth for its own sake, honestly search for God, and do good.

• But we are after SALVATION, union with God, eternal fulfillment, deliverance from death. What then must we do?

• “Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. HE WHO BELIEVES AND IS BAPTIZED WILL BE SAVED; but he who does not believe will be condemned. And these signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will cast out demons; they will speak in new tongues; they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly thing, it will not hurt them; they will lay their hands on the sick, and they will recover" (Mark 16.15ff).

• But we all see in this baptism that its impossible just to believe in the sense of passive acknowledgement.

• “But some one will say, "You have faith and I have works." Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith. You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe -- and shudder. Do you want to be shown, you shallow man, that faith apart from works is barren?” (James 2.18ff).

• Its not enough just to “believe” in the sense of believing something to be the case. That’s not the what the Scriptures mean. They mean FAITH – which is ACTIVE.

• “Fight the good fight of the faith; take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses” (1 Timothy 6.12).

• The life of faith is a FIGHT. Its something we DO. It’s a “taking hold” of eternal life. It doesn’t stop with “making a good confession”.

• There are two stages of faith:

• “the good confession” – cf. the man born blind from John 9: “Lord I believe!” AND HE WORSHIPPED HIM (John 9.38); or the father of the epileptic / mute child from Mark 9: “Lord I believe! Help my unbelief!” (Mark 9.24); or Mary and Martha and Lazarus from John 11: “if you would believe you would see the glory of God” (John 11.40).

• This is essentially acknowledging that Jesus is who he claims to be – the Christ, the Son of the Living God, he who is coming into the world, etc. Acknowledging his power.

• Then there is “fighting the good fight of the faith” – which follows on from the “good confession”. It is entailed by the acknoweldgement of Christ’s power over all. Because if he has power over everything, then he has power over YOU. Fighting the good fight means acquiescing to his power in YOUR life, your particular circumstances. Its not enough just to “believe” passively – “even the demons believe – and shudder.”

• So the Lord says “signs will accompany those who believe” in the more complete sense of “believing” – because the more complete sense of belief means making oneself susceptible to the power of Christ in your particular life. Therefore “you will take up serpents,” and speak in tongues and heal the sick, etc.

• This is symbolic. We should not be snake-handlers. It means that the Lord of Creation is now your Lord – through FAITH. You are no longer a slave to natural power, but to supernatural power. You are prone now to grace, you look for it, you find it in your life, you take hold of it, you make use of it to be transformed.

• This transformation is a transformation to make us able to see the power and glory of God, and to dwell in it (in HIM) forever. “Be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Romans 12.2).

• 1) Faith, 2) Baptism (from the Lord’s words in Mark 16, above).

• Baptism is sacramental initiation into the sphere of Grace – which is Christ himself.

• “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” (Romans 6.3)

• To be baptized means to be mystically incorporated into the sphere of divine power which begins the supernatural transformation of your personhood. Because baptism is baptism “INTO HIS DEATH” – that is, into the place where divine power delivers EVEN FROM DEATH – into Christ himself (because he IS the Kingdom of God – the place where God’s will is carried out, where his power is manifest): “We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life” (Romans 6.4).

• “And you were buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead” (Colossians 2.12).

• “For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body -- Jews or Greeks, slaves or free -- and all were made to drink of one Spirit…. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (1 Corinthians 12, passim).

• And “the Body” is the one (catholic) Church (cf. Colossians 1.18 & 24).

• When we are baptized, we make solemn vows (or they are made on our behalf, and we later ratify and renew them for ourselves). See Book of Common Prayer p. 302.