Second Sunday after Pentecost (Fr. Guiliano)

Credit for the meme goes to one of our parishioners, Sam.

“I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not seek me, says the Lord.”

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

This Sunday is the beginning of “ordinary time”, the Sundays after Pentecost and Trinity Sunday. From this Sunday until the Feast of Christ the King on November 23rd, we will be reading our way through the Gospel of Luke. Then, as Advent begins and we take up the cycle of readings again, we will make our way through Matthew, and the year after that through Mark. Meanwhile, John’s Gospel is read in portions throughout every year, especially around Christmas and Easter. And we read appropriate lessons to match each Gospel reading.

Why do we do this? 

On a fundamental level, it’s because we love and honour the Holy Scriptures. We read the Bible as Episcopalians. Biblical reading is at the heart of our services, our worship, our prayer, our praises. In Anglican churches, it has been like this since the 16th century. And we inherited our reading patterns from the ancient and medieval churches. 

Day by day in Morning and Evening Prayer, week by week at the Eucharist, we open the pages of the Bible, expecting to hear from God. We seek to be shaped by God’s Word, and the only way to do that truly, to be formed fully in the likeness of Christ, is to hear the voice of Jesus in the words on every page. For he stands ready to meet us, as we heard in Isaiah 65:

I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not seek me. I said, “here I am, here I am,” to a nation that did not call on my name. I held out my hands all day long to a rebellious people…”

God is ready. God is ready for us. He’s holding out his hands to us. Are we ready for him? And are we ready to find him, where he has promised to be? Or are we rebellious?

I think a lot of people are looking for guidance these days, looking for a little help. They’re looking in some strange places. I listened to a whole series of podcasts a couple months ago about the resurgence in American spirituality, and the tagline was something like “the girls are doing crystals. Astrology. and reiki, the boys are on magic mushrooms.” As I heard this, I thought….is this the 1970s? 

I remember preachers in the 2000s still railing about the New Age of the 70s and 90s. I didn’t think I’d have to become one of them. But it seems I’m forced to it. I mean…people will pull up Tiktok on their phones, discover a wellness influencer (a teenager even) who has decided to “live like a monk” for a month or not wash their skin with soap or water. And, having seen the results, which are mixed to say the least…they think, “I guess I’ll do that.” 

Naturally, as a religious professional, I feel a little like the abandoned girlfriend in that famous “distracted boyfriend” meme. 

You know, the guy is walking one way, his girlfriend is right next to him, but meanwhile he’s making faces at someone he doesn’t even know. (The meme lends itself to many situations, as some 10 years of online culture have shone us.) Maybe the meme applies here. I don’t mean me. I mean, sure, a priest can feel snubbed when everyone feels they can get online for 15 minutes or less and find an instant guru or become an instant guru, life coach, and wedding officiant – such are the powers of the Internet.

But, really, I’d like to say that God feels snubbed? I think I can say that. We are all the distracted boyfriend, while God is the abandoned girlfriend.

“All day long,” God says. “All day long I held out my hands to a rebellious people. … I said, ‘Here I am, Here I am.’”
God is speaking constantly to us, waiting patiently, ready to be found, ready to be found in Sacred Scripture. Do we take this privilege seriously? I ask myself as much as I’m asking you. 

Imagine if there were one place on earth where the voice of God could be heard: the oracle at Delphi, the Mount of Moses in Sinai…I don’t know…some random location in Antarctica. Imagine God could only be heard in the Antarctic, in some frozen cave or a few miles away from Amundsen-Scott South Pole Station. 

If we knew we could only hear God there, we’d go. The ships would set sail. The planes would fly. We’d be getting our bags together and loading them on sleds. People would be waiting for their turn in Cierva Cove or one of the Falklands, going to Whaler’s Bay and preparing to navigate the narrow passage in Neptune’s Bellows. Whatever it took, we’d find a way to get there. 

But the reality is: God is speaking everyday, and can be heard anywhere. Pick up the Bible. Speak to those who have come to know God through it. There are things we can do, things we can read and discuss and pray over, to ensure that we hear the divine voice. 

Yet we neglect these ordinary means of grace. Or we even plead with God, “Be not far away…save me…help me…speak to me.” And God says, “I am near; I have saved you; I am helping you; I am speaking.”

To quote one of the saints whom we discussed at the Adult Forum earlier, “The Lord is in the phrases of the Holy Scriptures.” Come and meet him every Sunday. Come and meet him by reading. Come and learn; come and listen. It will change you.
 
We have a picture of this change in our Gospel reading today. There’s a man in the country of the Gerasenes. He’s naked; he’s been living in tombs; he’s not in his right mind; he is filled with many demons. When Jesus asks, “What is your name?” He says, Legion, for many demons had entered him. This is a picture of oppressed humanity, beat down and ruined by forces beyond its strength. But Christ, our King and Liberator, Christ our Lord, Christ the Word of God come in the flesh, meets him, and he sends the demons out of him. When the man’s neighbours see him again, they are afraid; the change was that dramatic. They see him “sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind.”

 The man is freed, he is healed; he is ready to be with Christ, to follow him and proclaim him. He goes away, proclaiming how much Jesus had done for him.

This is a picture of the healing brought about by our encounter with the Word of God. The Word meets us, and we are never the same. The Word meets us, and we are freed. And we are filled with gratitude, and ready to go and proclaim how much God, how much Jesus, has done for us.