Jesus is in the temple and he means business. He has come to proclaim the New Covenant, even though he knows it will ultimately cost him his life. But Jesus is different…he is not a go-along-get-along guy. For openers, he won’t preach the good news surrounded by the corruption that permeates the house of the Lord. So he overturns counters, dumps the cash drawers and drives the merchants and their livestock from the temple. It seems straight forward enough, ‘til we realize that once again Jesus is operating on more than one level. The temple that he says will be destroyed and rebuilt is a direct reference to his own approaching sacrificial death and resurrection. And indirectly he is also telling us to get our spiritual house in order. That’s why there is a Lent… a time to take inventory… a time to repent… a time to get our priorities straight. As the disciples suddenly remember, Christ’s cleansing the temple was prophesized in Psalms: Zeal for (God’s) house will consume me. In fulfilling this prophecy, Jesus is not consumed with love of the temple’s architecture, its construction or even its sanctuary. When Joshua pledged: As for me and my house… he wasn’t dedicating bricks and mortar. The Greek word for house, oikus, means household. And it is for the household of God, his errant misguided people that Jesus laments. He calls on his people to recoil from sin, to purge themselves… to repent. This translation also reinforces Christ identifying himself as a temple that will be destroyed and rise again in three days. As a kid, hearing this gospel for the first time, naturally I identified with the good guy… the righteous Jesus. And I looked down on the bad guys… the money changers who were fouling the temple. Over time I came to realize a deeper meaning. The people that Jesus drove from the temple are the very same people he came to save. They are sinners. They are us. The people who mocked him are the same people he would lay down his life for. They are sinners… no different from us… especially when we mock him with indifferent lip-service and call it prayer… especially when we live proud, self-centered lives and call ourselves Christians. Jesus was not deceived by the faux piety of the money changers. He saw through them as he sees through us. And yet, even in his wrath, he loved them as he loves us. He died for us all: in our sins… in our pride, in our greed, in our neglect. Jesus does not love us for whom we ought to be. He loves us as we are… in our falls and in our resurrections. He does not drive us out. He gathers us in… to live in his love. Jesus uses this gospel to tell us that we have a lot of cleaning-up to do. Paul tells us: Do you not know that you are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwells in you? Lent is set aside for each of us to give our temples a really thorough cleanup. Sure, we’re spiritually sprucing up all year round. But Lent is not here for light dusting. It’s time for heavy-duty scrubbing… purging the temple that God gave us, rededicating ourselves to God’s service. Start with a rigorous spiritual inventory: What are your priorities? How do you spend your time? Do you truly accept Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior? Is he at the center of your life or on the periphery? How and when do you pray? Are you in continuous conversation with Jesus or have you silently drifted away? What fences need mending? What habits need breaking? What strengths need building? What relationships need fixing? Who needs your help today? This isn’t a complete list. But it is a good start to putting your temple in order… to tackling your own spiritual spring cleaning. So, roll up your sleeves and pitch in. It will make your life healthier, happier… holier. Ask Jesus to lend you a hand… throwing out the guilt, polishing up the joy, making room for love. Spring cleaning with Jesus… that’s what Lent is for.

Dear Friends,

Once again Ash Wednesday inaugurates the season of self-examination and self-denial we call Lent -- a name derived from the Old English “lencten” which means “lengthen”, referring to the longer period of daylight in the transition from late winter to early spring. In recent years self-denial has become the more readily identified aspect of Lent, as in: “I’m giving up champagne and caviar for Lent.”…Or some other, more serious, expression of sacrifice. In our gospel for Ash Wednesday Jesus focuses on self examination. He does not ask us to nit-pick petty flaws. He asks us to take on the big one, the ubiquitous one, the invasive and pernicious one…Pride. Pride is the crabgrass in the garden of our souls. It produces no fruit while it overgrows grace and strangles goodness. And in this gospel, Jesus warns us sternly not to let pride choke the love out of our worship and generosity. As Jesus shows us, pride has the ability to make a pious fraud of our prayer. It can flip our charity on its head and turn it into self-aggrandizing cant. Ultimately, it threatens to transform our entire spiritual journey into a squalid little ego trip. What makes pride so powerful? The answer is amply documented in scripture and literature. And in an increasingly exhibitionist culture, it is in our faces every day. In Genesis, pride destroyed the innocence of Adam and Eve. They wanted to usurp God’s power. They got shame and banishment instead. In Exodus it drove pharaoh’s chariots into the sea. In Greek drama pride always leads to destruction. Avenging Nemesis always follows hubris. In Shakespeare pride haunts the histories and initiates the tragedies; while American literature is littered with proud victims from Ahab to Charles Foster Cain. Spend some time examining the pathology of pride and you begin to grasp its power. Pride springs from our primordial will to survive. We’ve all got it. Some of us learn to channel it. Others don’t. Healthy self-esteem is built on understanding our worth as beloved children of God. It‘s the cornerstone of well-being. Unbridled pride is the threshold sin to a host of iniquities. It destroys with a smiling face. Jesus is the antidote for pride. Humility permeates what he says and how he lives. Today we’d say that he’s comfortable in his own skin. He knows who he is and why he is here. He’s got infinitely more reason to swell and to strut than anyone who has ever walked the earth. But that’s not Jesus. His every word, his every move is a well-studied lesson in living the good life. Search the gospels for the proud Jesus, the vain Jesus, the self-centered Jesus… you’ll never find him. He’s not there. You’ll only find the humble, loving and gentle Jesus. Even in his wrath, he is humble; in righteous obedience to the will of the Father. Ask any gardener: What keeps the crabgrass at bay? There’s only one answer…constant vigilance. The same is true of pride. But rather being in a reactive mode, just watching for the grass to grow, Jesus wants us to be active, to live productive, fruitful Christian lives. He wants us to vigorously witness his love in the world. Live humbly for and in Christ. And the grass will take care of itself.

God love you!

Dear Friends,

Dear Friends,

Sometimes scripture teaches us as much by what it does not say, as well as what it does say. This week's gospel is a prime example. Jesus is just beginning his ministry. And already we have seen him acclaimed as the Messiah. But the full meaning of that acclamation is unclear. Exactly who is this guy?

As this gospel opens, it looks like dinner at Peter’s house is going to be canceled. His mother-in-law is desperately ill. Then instantly, Jesus cures her. And she’s back in the kitchen whipping up a meal for him and the disciples. After dinner, the whole neighborhood shows up begging for more miracles. And once again Jesus obliges them. And here’s where we must read between the lines.

The next morning, Jesus rises earlier than usual. Was his sleep troubled? Was his human nature struggling with the full import of his divinity? Jesus looks for guidance in prayer to the Father. What were those conversations like? One thing we do know, in all things Jesus always sought the will of his Father. We know too that once having prayed, Jesus knew exactly what to do…not stay where it’s comfortable, but take his message of repentance and redemption on the road, far and wide. So, he sets out to proclaim the Father’s love for all Creation… and to build the faith we stand on today.

As subsequent events reveal, Jesus is true God and true man. But for now, that has yet to be seen. And from what is said and unsaid in this first chapter of Mark, the fully divine nature of Jesus has yet to be understood, perhaps even by the fully human nature of Jesus himself. This is a vitally significant point in understanding the life of Christ as he begins his journey to Calvary.

Over the centuries many, many well-meaning Christians have gotten lost in the theological weeds trying to understand this relationship between the divine and human natures of Jesus. The Gnostics, the Nestorians, the Arians… big chunks of the early Church… were never reconciled to the true nature of Jesus as totally and concurrently God and man. This is not a theological footnote. It is the crux of Christianity. The God, who created the universe, became fully human in the form of Jesus, the second person of the Trinity.

Jesus is not a junior varsity version of the real thing. Jesus Christ is God… another aspect of the one and only God. In the words of the Creed: “He is one in being with the Father.” If the concept makes your head spin, you’re not the first and won’t be the last.

Luke tells us: he grew in wisdom and age and grace. I suspect that process did not end with his coming of age. Rather it continued throughout his public life… right to the cross. His awareness of his divinity inexorably unfolded to the point where he could plead from the cross: Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.

Obedience to the Father empowered the human Jesus to align himself with the divine. It gave him the power to do extraordinary things, like the miracles in this morning’s gospel. And ultimately it gave him the power to do the most extraordinary thing that has ever been done. It made him the vehicle of our salvation, the channel of God’s grace, our hope for eternal life.

We are still in the first chapter of Mark. Like this early Jesus, we have far to go and much to learn. In previous Focus reflections, we concentrated on very behavioral responses to the gospels… love of God and neighbor This week we go deeper and wrestle with the nature of Jesus. The reason is simple: the more you study and think about Jesus, the more you learn. The more you know about Jesus, the more you love him and the closer you follow him. With Jesus, learning leads to loving; more learning leads to more loving.

This is particularly true in our Anglican faith tradition. We allow for a wide latitude of conscience-formed theological conviction. As such, Anglicanism has been described more as a path to belief than an iron-clad theological system. And like Jesus in this gospel, we find that path through prayer. In theological jargon: Lex orandi, lex credendi. Praying shapes our believing. The fully human nature of Jesus evolved with his understanding of his divine nature and his divine mission. And that understanding was shaped by his constant prayer conversation…seeking always to know and to do the will of the Father. Our path is clear. Like Jesus, let us pray ourselves nearer and nearer to an intimate understanding of the will of the Father. Through prayer let us also grow in wisdom and age and grace.

God love you!

The Reverend Canon David F. Sellery

Dear Friends,

In the gospels of the past three weeks after Epiphany, Jesus has been starting his public life. The messages have been about meeting Jesus, being open to him, listening to him… following him. With that in mind, what do we make of this very short, very curious gospel? Jesus amazes a small-town crowd with his wisdom. They are confused by the brilliance coming out of this carpenter. But the evil spirit living among them isn’t confused. The demon recognizes Jesus immediately… and in terror, it proclaims him: The Holy One of God. How ironic that of all those who were there, it was the unclean spirit who saw Jesus for who he was. Jesus responds by driving the evil spirit out of the man. And the crowd is stunned. Who is this guy? By what power can he literally scare the devil out of people? That is exactly the wonderment that Jesus wanted to produce. We are in the first chapter of Mark. And right upfront, he is telling us where he stands. He is not a prophet. He is not a scholar. He is not here to impress. He is here to save. As Mark tells us: They were astonished at his doctrine: for he taught them as one that had authority, and not as the scribes.

Reflecting on the significance of this passage, C.S. Lewis writes: “The things Jesus tells us are very different from what any other teacher has said. Others say, ‘This is the truth about the Universe. This is the way you ought to go.’ But he says: ‘I am the Truth, and the Way and the Life… No man can reach absolute reality, except through me… Your sins, all of them are wiped out. I can do that. I am Re-birth… Eat me. Drink me. I am your food… do not be afraid, I have overcome the whole Universe.” To demonstrate his authority, Jesus drives out the unclean spirit… not by performing a ritual exorcism… but by simply telling the demon to shut up and get out. Jesus does not invoke a higher power… because he is the highest power. We have the benefit of two-thousand years of Christian tradition. Yet many of us still struggle with the divinity of Jesus. Imagine the folks in Capernaum getting hit with it in real-time, one-on-one, up-close, and personal. They are amazed. They are confused. And not all of them are happy. The concept of demonic possession and exorcism has always been difficult for me to relate to. I probably saw too many low-budget exorcist movies when I was a kid. But I have no trouble coming to grips with the fact that Satan stalks the world and evil flourishes around us… and too often, in us. The struggle with garden-variety inner-demons is very much closer to home. Start with the demon of addiction… the one we invite in to ease the pain, to pass the time, to fill a void. It comes in every form… from prescription drugs to single-malt Scotch… from gambling to pornography… from jelly donuts to ice cream. But whatever the form, we can easily become slaves to these demons… whether as genteel, high-functioning addicts or derelict “junkies” and everything in between. Yet as virulent as they are, addictions are not the most difficult demons to confront. They are so debilitating they make themselves obvious. They invite intervention. Demon pride is much more insidious. And we’ve all got a potentially deadly dose. It comes in a multitude of strains. There’s the “smartest guy in the room” variety… AKA “the know it all.” There’s the “resume-mouth” demon that drives us to impress. There’s the “snob” and its evil twin “envy”… both constantly appraising and comparing… finding fault, spreading malice. The demons are legion. But the underlying pathology is always the same: Pride is the soil that nurtures all other sin. It was Lucifer’s downfall. It was the curse of Adam and Eve. In Hell, it is still the specialty of the house. St. Vincent said: “Humility is nothing but truth, pride is nothing but lying.” A humble life is a happy life. A proud life is a tortured life. Pride and grace cannot occupy the same space. One or the other must go. But humility is not an end in itself. It is a manifestation of a soul at peace, filled with the love of Christ. As he amply demonstrates in this gospel, Jesus has the power to purge every one of our demons. If we have faith… if we ask him… Jesus will tell all our demons to shut up and get out. And so, we pray: Jesus Christ, my Lord, and my God, fill us with your love. Fill us to overflowing. Leave no room for demons. Only you, Lord. Only you.

God love you!

If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." -- 1 Cor. 12:26. Dear Friends,

January is a very dreary month and we can all use a break.

Over a decade and a half have passed and "Martin Luther King, Jr. Day" has slipped into the rotation of routine events that shape our lives -- smack in the middle of the NFL playoffs and right before Groundhog's Day. But Martin's greatest gift to us is not just a day off or another three-day holiday weekend of promotional sales to kick-start the economy.

Neither is his greatest gift a seat on a bus or at a lunch counter for a minority of us. It's not even his wake-up call to a majority that was comfortable living in atrophied isolation, actively oblivious to the catastrophic rot around us. Behind it all, his greatest gift was to vividly lay bare the Body of Christ and challenge us to live in it.

"For just as the body is one, and has many members, and all the members of that one body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we are all baptized into one body …" 1 Cor. 12:12-13.

Paul wrote it. Martin lived it. And he died for it.

The message is simple. It has been in scripture for millennia. But we are "a stiff-necked people" and obviously need regular reinforcement: There was no ghetto in the Garden of Eden. No separate, but equal. We are of common stock. Children of Eve -- or Lucy, as the anthropologists prefer. There were no reruns of Calvary with separate white, black, Asian and Hispanic casts. Christ died once and for all. And in him we are all risen -- together.

We are the Body of Christ, not the distant cousins of Christ with a polite nodding acquaintance of each other to be endured in quiet reserve at rare gatherings. Christ never commanded that we tolerate each other, much less mollify each other with mid-winter holidays. Jesus said it simply, "Love one another."

Not the racist degradation of a Birmingham jail, nor his bloody martyrdom on a Memphis motel balcony could shake Martin's fidelity to Christ's message of love. Martin's immortal words inscribed on his memorial put a gentle message powerfully: "Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it…" What a legacy to take home to glory -- a life laid down in Christ as a witness to his enduring love. What a gift of brilliant insight and articulation on bonds closer than brotherhood. We are one -- the beloved of God, our Father, united in the Body of Christ.

Martin's gift is the kind that keeps giving. For over 50 years it has guided our sense of civic justice. When, and if, that necessity ever fades, there is a more enduring lesson he left us that transcends perceptions of pigmentation and DNA. In valedictory, he summarized the power of truth, love and our human condition: "I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant."

Thank you, Martin. We honor you. We rejoice in you. Happy birthday.

God love you!

The Reverend Canon David F. Sellery

Dear Friends,

Dear Friends,