Alas, the top item in my blog hopper is some sundries related to Twitter. Not quite my usual fodder, which is church geekery mixed with humor/snark. On the other hand, I do post the occasional article on technology and social media, so without further delay…

A couple of weeks ago, I gave a pair of workshops on Twitter for the Episcopal Communicators conference. I promised — er, two weeks ago — to post a list of resources that I mentioned in my talk. So, if you are Twittery, this will be useful. If not, please stand by. Something else will be along soon.

First off, some current demographic data on social media: there are big differences among various social media related to male/female, urban/rural, and racial/ethnic background. Based on your intended audience, choose your platform(s) carefully. Know your audience, and provide appropriate content on the appropriate channel. Here’s some data from February 2013 from the Pew Research Center. This been nicely summarized into a lovely infographic by Media Bistro. Here’s some relatively recent info on number of users per platform with supporting links.

There are some great analytics tools out there. Tweriod will tell you when your followers are online. Twitonomy is an analytical gold mine. Check it out. Seriously. Go do it now. Both of these tools are free. You might also want to check your overall social influence on Klout.

It’s nice to schedule tweets ahead of time, and plenty of tools do that. Twuffer was among the first, and it’s still around. Hootsuite lets you do this for Twitter, Facebook, and others.

A few days ago, I started using justunfollow to track who unfollows me and who hasn’t followed me back. One of my Twitter followers alerted me to Contaxio which does all that, and much more. It’s a great management tool for your followers and friends. Not a big deal if you have only a few dozen, but as you build an audience, these tools become more important.

There are others, but those are some of my faves. Here’s a decent article on building your audience.

What tools do you use? What do you use Twitter for? Are you following me (@scottagunn) yet?

Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.

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It would be easy to pick on the various people in the Gospels who have trouble believing in the Resurrection of Jesus. But the truth is, I have a lot of sympathy with their reaction. The scriptures use gentle words like “perplexed” to describe the reaction of the women who entered the tomb and found it empty. I can assure you, if that had been me, “perplexed” is not the word that would describe my reaction.

In the next verse following today’s Gospel reading, the disciples dismiss the witnesses of the Resurrection, because they think the Resurrection is an “idle tale.” After all, everyone knows that’s not how the world is supposed to work.

Easter has an uphill battle in our world. Not only do we have skeptics, but we have the attempts of consumer culture to take over Easter. Plenty of preachers will, this morning, be lamenting the commercialization of Easter, but I don’t mind that too much. For one thing, I love the candy. Anyone who was in the sacristy last night will have seen me dive for the jelly beans after we celebrated Easter at the Great Vigil.

But I also suspect that in stores everywhere across the country, little children ask their parents about the bunnies, the jelly beans, and the eggs, and there is an opportunity tell a tiny part of the Good News of Jesus Christ, even in Walgreens’ aisle #4.

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I don’t think this whole Easter business is very easy to believe. It seems to me that one reason it’s hard for us to believe because we have domesticated Easter, even here in church. We gather and sing well-known hymns. We look for our favorite flowers and beloved rituals. We crave the familiar in a story that rejects everything familiar, right down to the laws of science.

You see, at its core, today we celebrate the scandalous idea that a dead person came back to life. And Jesus wasn’t just “kind of” dead. He was stone cold, really, truly dead. Not breathing, no heartbeat. Dead.

On the third day, he was raised to life again. He didn’t just “kind of” come back to life. This is not a zombie story! Jesus returned to teach his followers. He ate. He breathed. He was alive.

It seems to me that St. Luke could have been talking about us with his lines about perplexity or the idle tale. You see, I worry that it’s tempting for us Christians to stop with the idea, admittedly mind-blowing, that Jesus died and was raised to new life. We mentally check off this notion, and then never grapple with it.

There will be no show of hands, but my guess is that there are at least a few people here who, like I have at times, struggle with what Easter proclaims. I have some good news about the Good News.

It’s not easy. It’s not meant to be easy. Once I learned to read the scriptures more carefully, I began to understand that any attempt to make this all easy — whether it’s the Easter story or the Christian life — is doomed from its inception. Be wary of people with easy answers.

Yes, the scriptures say, Jesus was alive again. Jesus invited Thomas to put his hands into his wounds. He ate fish. But then again, Jesus appeared inside a locked room. One time he walked alongside his closest friends for a while and they did not recognize him. Jesus was surely raised to new life, but in his new life, he was different. Figuring all this out will take any of us at least a lifetime, and thanks to be God, we get fifty days to celebrate this great and joyous mystery.

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St. Peter is one of my favorites. I love the fact that he messes up so many times, and he keeps trying. I also love that Jesus never gives up on him. It’s pretty encouraging to think that we can mess up pretty badly, and it’s still OK to follow Jesus. It’s a massive relief to know that Jesus won’t give up on us.

Just two days ago, on Good Friday, we heard how Peter betrayed Jesus three times the night Jesus was arrested. And, still, Peter is with Jesus’ followers when they learn that something amazing has happened. Two verses after our Gospel reading, we learn that Peter, upon hearing this almost unbelievable news, “got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in.”

Peter wondered if this extraordinary news could be true, and he went and did something. I don’t think we could hope for a better model.

If you ever wonder about the extraordinary and almost unbelievable Good News that Christians proclaim, Peter shows the way. It’s perfectly fine to get up and run to a church and look in. See what is revealed here. See how Christ is made real for us in bread and in wine. See how the Good News is proclaimed in word and deed. See how the people in church keep trying, even after they mess up. And if we’re honest, we all have our moments of struggle in faith, whether you have been coming to church every Sunday since you were born, or whether you are the person who is in church today for the first time ever.

Guess what, it’s not easy. Jesus never says it’s easy to be a Christian, and in fact he spends most of his time saying just the opposite. It’s a tough road. Easter, the central proclamation of the Christian faith, is not all that easy, if we peer past the flowers and banners.

But, here’s the thing. Jesus never gives up on us. Somehow, the early church got this into the fiber of its being, and a few dozen people changed the world. A few followers of Jesus, believing in the extraordinary events of the resurrection, became fearless. They shared this Good News of a God who never stops seeking our salvation, of a God who won’t even let death get between us and him.

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Today is the first of fifty days to celebrate and even dive into the mystery of Easter. What happened on Easter morning was not just an isolated miracle. The empty tomb shows that God’s love is stronger than death, stronger than anything. A few dozen followers of Jesus proclaimed that faith and changed the world. Even today, Christian do extraordinary things when they are filled with Easter faith.

Easter faith comes about when we begin to believe that God’s love is stronger than death, when we act as if what we believe is true.

A few years ago, I heard Canon Andrew White, often called the Vicar of Baghdad, speak. He’s the priest in Iraq, in a parish where it is dangerous to be a Christian. Canon White told us that one year, several adults asked to be baptized. After preparation, they were baptized. Within a year, they were all dead, martyrs for the faith. When it was time the next year, a new crop of people begged for baptism, though they knew the dangers. That is Easter faith.

Look at reconciliation that has come in South Africa and Northern Ireland. That is Easter faith. Look at people who give sacrificially of their time and money for the welfare of others. That is Easter faith. Look at broken relationships made whole. That is Easter faith. Look at Christ made real in the sacraments. That is Easter faith. It’s not easy, but Easter faith is life-changing and world-changing when we manage to get it right.

The Good News is that God’s love is stronger than death. The next bit of good news is that we have a lifetime to figure out what that means and how to live in response. And, finally, there are plenty of companions here for the Christian journey. No one has to be a Christian alone.

There are a lot of ways to practice the Easter faith, and not all of them involve dangerous risk. The father of one of my friends answers his phone a bit differently in the Easter season. If you call his house this time of year, you won’t hear hello. Every time he picks up the phone, he says “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” I bet he has some great conversations about the Good News.

I hope we will all celebrate the next fifty days of Easter with reckless joy and boundless love. That would be a pretty good start to a life of Easter faith.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The angel said, “Do not be afraid; for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has risen, as he said.”

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There is a reason our celebration on this most holy night begins before the alleluias. We begin in darkness and bless the new fire to call to mind how God brought light into the world, both at the moment of creation and in Jesus Christ. The Paschal Candle reminds us of the pillar of flame that led God’s people, and which leads us. It recalls for us the Light of Christ, the light which fills the world.

Tonight we told the history of salvation to remember how God has relentlessly loved us throughout history, again and again seeking our salvation. It’s astounding, really, how God has never given up on us, though we never quite succeed in living how we are meant to live.

Take, for example, the deliverance of the ancient Israelites. God provides for them again and again, and still they complain about how things used to be. Once they escape Pharaoh initially, they see the advancing army, and offer one of the most poetic and ridiculous complaints in history: “Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?” This is perhaps one of the earliest known examples of snark. It’s just the sort of thing they would have would have tweeted, if Twitter had been invented a few thousand years earlier.

God leads the people across the Red Sea and destroys the army of their enemy. It is not just an escape, but a decisive victory. As Exodus says, “Israel saw the great work that the Lord did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the Lord and believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.” They believed in the Lord, for a while. But not for long.

Soon, when they get hungry, God provides food. They get tired of the food God gives them, and so they complain, mentioning how nice the food was back in Egypt. When they are thirsty, God provides water, but they don’t like the taste of it. Time and time again, God provides for their needs, often in dramatic ways. And again and again, they briefly believe in God’s power before returning to their short-sighted view of the world.

Egypt was all about death and graves. They were everywhere. The people of God are leaving that behind and heading toward the promised land, led by Moses. The people of God are leaving behind a culture of death and a life of slavery, and still they complain. The people of God are seeing how God continues to provide for them, and still they complain. God’s people are unable to imagine a wondrous future, because they are chained to their past.

It might be convenient for us if this were only a story about God’s people thousands of years ago. But of course, we are not all that different. God provides so much for us, and still we complain. As a nation, as a church, as individuals, we are unable to imagine the promise of a wondrous future, because we are chained to our past. Too often we hear how great things used to be, rather than how great things will be in the future.

The crossing of the Red Sea shows God’s decisive victory for God’s people. Easter is God’s decisive victory for the universe. In case we were wondering about God’s love for us, whether our future will be safe, Easter demonstrates God’s decisive victory for us and all of creation.

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Easter is, of course, not merely a historic occasion we cherish because we learn a lesson from it or because it makes us feel good. Easter has changed everything, for ever. At Easter death was defeated, so we no longer have to be afraid. If the worst thing that can happen to us in this life is to die, and if we don’t have to be afraid of that, we are truly free.

God did not just lead the Israelites to freedom, but did it in a decisive way, vanquishing Pharaoh’s army. God does not just raise Jesus to new life, but does this in a decisive way.

My favorite Easter sermon of all time is the famous one by John Chrysostom. He preached beautifully about Christ’s descent to the dead.

The Lord has destroyed death by enduring it.
The Lord vanquished hell when he descended into it.
The Lord put hell in turmoil even as it tasted of his flesh.

In Jesus Christ, God does not just defeat death, but rather taunts death. Jesus Christ descends to the dead to unbind the captives there. The technical, theological term for this is “cosmic smackdown.”

As John Chrysostom more eloquently says,

Hell grasped a corpse, and met God.
Hell seized earth, and encountered heaven.
Hell took what it saw, and was overcome by what it could not see.

This night, this Great Vigil of Easter, is most certainly not about us. This night is bigger than the music, the flowers, and beloved traditions. This night is bigger than history. This night is about the whole of the universe. This night we celebrate our deliverance and the redemption of all creation.

As God freed his people in ancient Egypt, so we are freed. As Jesus Christ destroyed death, so we are freed from the sting of death. We no longer need to live in captivity to sin, to fear, or to a lack of imagination about a wondrous future.

Fear is everywhere. Our culture says, gather money, because you might not have enough. Our culture says, you need to look better, to get the right job, to know the right people, because it is not enough that you are made in God’s image. Our culture says, stay safe in your home, and avoid things that might be dangerous.

Jesus said, perhaps more than anything else, do not be afraid. God has acted for us again and again. God has won life for us. Truly we have nothing to fear.

As Christians, we can reject fear. We can, in fact, taunt fear. We don’t need more stuff. We don’t need to have a fancy job title. We can boldly go into the world where God calls us. Christ has won for us the victory. It is a victory over death, sin, and fear. If you want to see what this looks like, examine the life of Archbishop Desmond Tutu. He looked into the faces of thugs with their weapons and laughed at them. With his hope-filled joy, he taunted them. Emboldened by fearless hope, reconciliation defeated hatred. It is Easter faith incarnate.

In ancient Egypt, God delivered our forebearers from a culture of death to a culture of hope. In a tomb in ancient Jerusalem, God delivered us all from death into life. Easter isn’t about us, but rather about the whole creation. But if Easter doesn’t shape our lives in some way, we aren’t paying attention.

My hope is that we, tonight, can know that we are delivered from our culture of fear. Because we are unchained from sin, from death, from fear, we are free to proclaim the Good News and the spread the kingdom of God. We are free to be bearers of Christ’s Light in the world. We are free to imagine a future that is wondrous.

Imagine life without any fear. That, my friends in Christ, is the life we have. Death is defeated, fear is conquered. Do not be afraid.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Amen.

For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are sanctified. (Heb. 10:14)

A few months ago, it was my great joy to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Without a doubt, the high point of my time in Jerusalem was a night spent in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. It turns out that, most nights, a few pilgrims are allowed to stay overnight in this most sacred place. On the night I spent in what was once viewed as the center of the world, there were just eight pilgrims in the building, alone. We had the place to ourselves.

For some of the night, I wandered through the building with my camera, getting some photos that you simply can’t take during the day when the Church of the Holy Sepulchre is overrun by busloads of tourists. Mostly though, I spent the night praying, reading, meditating, and just savoring the silence of the place.

My first stop was to visit the Tomb of Christ — the place where tradition says Jesus was buried and then raised from the dead. During the day, you’re lucky to get 30 seconds inside the Tomb. I spent almost an hour there, in which I read one of the Gospels to myself by candlelight in this most sacred place.

When I finished, I realized I wanted to back up a bit, as it were. So I walked over to the spot tradition says Jesus was crucified and died. In the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, it is almost impossible to separate Christ’s death and resurrection. They are close physically, ritually, and theologically.

If you have been to Calvary Chapel there, you’ll be able to picture it. There’s an Altar over the spot where it is believed our Lord’s cross was placed at his death. On either side of the Altar, glass panels reveal ancient outcroppings of stone, the top of the spot we know as Golgotha. It is stunning.

I found a spot not far from the Altar, plopped myself onto the marble floor and began to read the Passion according to St. John. It was, to use a common word advisedly, awesome.

At some point, I remember pausing and looking up at the scene. Another pilgrim was nearby praying. But that’s not what I noticed. The wall behind the Altar — to place of the Crucifixion — is decorated with candles, golden metal, cloth, mosaics, and more. It is almost gaudy in its glittering adornment.

I found myself thinking about the incongruity. How could this sacred, sad, desolate spot, on which the Savior of the world died be so, well, festively decorated? It struck me as incongruous and possibly a bit outrageous. At the time, I left it at that.

Just as I was preparing to preach today did I have some clarity about why this might not be so much outrageous as appropriate, or even fitting. Today we will venerate the cross, in prayer, song, and with our bodies. But what we are venerating is not just the cross itself, but what it represents. To venerate the cross, or to gaze at the stunning adornment at the site of the crucifixion, requires us to enter fully into the heart of our faith. We have to ponder what it might mean for God himself to die, for Jesus Christ to be killed by the willful sinfulness of humanity, for love incarnate to appear defeated by hatred. Because we know how the rest of this wondrous and sacred story unfolds, we also know that this same cross, this same place, is the means by which our salvation is accomplished. The cold stone of a rock and the hard wood of the cross bring about the redemption of the universe. Veneration, indeed!

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In the Passion, Jesus appears at the center of a world spinning out of control. Especially in St. John’s telling, our Lord is supremely in control. Questioned, he maintains his silence. Writing about this, Romanus Melodus poetically says,

The Thunderer stood voiceless–the Word without a word;
For if he had spoken out, he would not have been overpowered.

Jesus knows what must take place. And he does all this willingly, out of his perfect love for us woefully imperfect people. As the story continues, Jesus seems to embrace his agonizing fate and eventual passage out of this early life. Jesus says, “It is finished,” almost eager, it seems, to pass from life to death, and soon, from death to life again.

Eusebius says,

He did not wait for death, which was lagging behind as it were in fear to come to him. Instead, he pursued it from behind and drove it on and trampled it under his feet as it was felling.

Jesus doesn’t just welcome death. He chases it.

This is the act of a God who loves us beyond measure, who desires intimacy with humanity so much that the One who was present at the moment of creation would condescend to dwell among us, knowing every sorrow, pain, and sting of humanity, even death. The very fact of what happens on Good Friday should end any question of God being distant from us and our ills. God could not, in fact, be closer to us than the Passion reveals for all to see.

We venerate the cross because of what is accomplished by it. When Jesus says, “It is finished,” he is surely referring not merely to his earthly life, but to our salvation. “It is finished” means our salvation is accomplished. “It is finished” means that death defeats death itself.

Even today, with black vestments and greatest solemnity, we are not far removed from Easter. In a few moments, we will say these words:

V. We glory in thy Cross, O Lord:

R. And praise and glorify thy holy Resurrection: for by virtue of the Cross, joy hath come to the whole world.

We should not for a moment look away from the horror and sorrow of Good Friday. It is a necessary reminder of the depths to which God was willing to go to for our salvation. We should also never forget for a moment the wonder of the empty tomb, made possible by a man hanging on a wooden cross on a rocky outcropping in ancient Jerusalem.

These days, many Christians look at the cross one dimensionally, seeing it only as the means of atonement. That is surely what happens here, as the scriptures say. But our liturgy bears witness to a broader understanding of the Cross, a view which encompasses the inextricable connection between life, death, and resurrection the ancient church proclaimed.

Good Friday is the day we stare at the cross, at the wounded, dying body of our Savior. Good Friday we remember the profound depths of God’s love for us. Good Friday fills us with sorrow at the power of sin and its consequences. And even on Good Friday, we balance all that with joy in the hope of new life.

It is finished. Our salvation is accomplished.

It is finished. For us this is not an end, but a new beginning of our own earthly pilgrimage. Anglicans should not imagine that the cross functions only as the completion of a cosmic equation which somehow removes our need to follow Jesus. The Cross does not prevent our need to seek to grow into the full stature of Christ. Rather, the Cross invites us to contemplate with joy the mighty acts of a God who has sought our salvation relentlessly. The Cross should perhaps provoke both horror and gratitude as we gaze upon it.

We can go on about the work and ministry of following Jesus knowing that God’s love for us is boundless and deeper than we can imagine or than we deserve. We can go on about the things God calls us to do, fearless in the knowledge that God has faced evil and death on our behalf.

It is finished. Our salvation is accomplished.

The Cross fills us with hope, because we see that God could not possible love us more and we know that death is defeated. In gratitude for our salvation, we glory in the Cross.

As the Letter to the Hebrews says,

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near.

It is finished. Our salvation is accomplished.

Amen.

This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly. It is the passover of the Lord. (Ex 12:11)

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As we dive deeply into the great mystery and awe of these Three Holy Days, we begin with a reminder of how it all started. For the precursor of this night includes not just a final meal among friends in a room in old Jerusalem, but a hastily eaten meal in ancient Egypt. The biblical chronology varies, of course, so whether or not the Last Supper is a Passover meal depends on which account you read. In any case, the association between these three days and on our forebearers’ exodus cannot be missed.

By the time Exodus was written, the Hebrew word pesach was so well known it required no explanation. It meant not just “passing over” as we often think today, but something even more ancient, “compassion.” This is not only the passover of the Lord, but the compassion of the Lord. The deliverance of God’s people comes by way of God’s compassion for them.

What captivates me about this association is the commandment to eat in haste. To be ready to move. The image gets me because, at first glance, it seems to foreign to what we are doing here tonight. These liturgies are lengthy, complicated affairs. Before we gathered here tonight, diagrams were drawn, manuals were written, and rehearsals were held.

But there is a way in which what we are doing has everything to do with the commandment to eat in haste. Imagine, if you will, the scene for those in ancient Egypt. Knowing as they do, that they are about to be rescued and delivered, knowing that something wonderful but also perhaps terrifying is around the corner, knowing all this — they eat a meal. God tells them what to eat, how to cook it, and makes sure they are ready for their deliverance.

Eating this way, in haste, is not like a thoughtless fast food meal. Quite the opposite. To eat a feast as if one is on the move is to take nothing for granted. It is to eat every bit with purpose, savoring every taste. This is how we are meant to gather tonight. We are to do everything here with purpose, with intention, savoring every sight, word, smell, touch, and taste. We are on the move, spiritually if not physically.

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Of course, the central motif of this night’s liturgy is not found in Exodus, but rather in the Gospel. Later in John, Jesus says to love one another as he has loved us. Here he simply shows us his intention and commands us to do likewise. In a few minutes, the choir will sing a stunning anthem that gets right to the core of everything we are doing here:

Where charity and love abide, God is there. The love of Christ has gathered us together. Let us rejoice and be glad in it. Let us fear and love the living God. And let us love one another with a sincere heart.

This new commandment — misunderstood now as much as then — to care for one another as Christ has cared for us is a stretch. I’ve heard preachers say that what Jesus proposed was somehow normal for the time, but Peter’s reaction proves otherwise. Indeed, Peter seeking to refuse his master is not a lack of faith, but rather an excess of reason. It just didn’t make sense that night. The disciples knew their leader was under enormous pressure, and of course they would have wanted to take care of him, rather than the reverse.

Washing feet doesn’t make much sense here either. Doing this breaks down about a hundred different walls that we like to keep firmly in place. Touching a stranger’s feet, or perhaps worse, allowing someone else to care for you in this publicly intimate way, doesn’t make much sense. And that’s exactly why we should do it. To take part in the washing of feet, you have to be willing to be on the move. This strange act requires us to go beyond what make sense or what feels comfortable.

You see, I am quite sure Jesus knew just what he was doing. You don’t even have to be omniscient to know that commanding people to love one another will provoke awkwardness. Choosing an awkward symbol of an awkward thing is, well, spot on.

This way of loving others is also beautiful, of course. How can this be? We know that loving people often makes no sense. It is, literally, irrational, to love another person, especially a stranger. The love we are commanded to share — loving one another as Christ loves us — is complete; it is sacrificial; it is offered without regard to merit or consequence.

Christian love is offered to friends and strangers. It takes us away from what is comfortable, far beyond what feels familiar. But aren’t life’s most profound moments found in the tender care of another? Aren’t the most holy moments of this early pilgrimage found in loving another and in loving God? Isn’t every transforming experience one that has caused us to go somewhere, to be on the move?

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Tonight we enact this symbol of extravagant, senseless love precisely to jar us out of reality. We are meant to do something that makes no sense. We are all asked to be on the move. And if we are going to succeed in this Christlike act — now or any other time in our lives — we’ll need God’s compassion and grace.

As we embark on the symbolically rich and theologically complex journey of the Three Holy Days, I hope we will manage to taste, to love, to pray, to hear, to sing — I hope we will manage to do all these things with the same intensity and purpose that God commanded for our forebearers in ancient Egypt. To follow Jesus is to go on an epic journey. To follow Jesus means that we will have an uncertain, unsafe, unreasonable future. We’d better savor every bit–every act of love, every prayer, every word, every song. We have to be ready to be on the move.

Our liturgy ends with one more startling act. For those of us who spend much time in a church, it is perhaps even disturbing. As our liturgy continues, the Blessed Sacrament will be removed with great solemnity to a place for prayer. Then all the adornments and tools of our worship will be removed, stripped away. The Altar itself will be scrubbed clean. And the Tabernacle door will be left wide open. Christ will no longer be present here as he usually dwells here. An open door, an empty box, an extinguished candle. These will be the signs that all is not well, that all is not as it usually is. Startling.

It’s one last way in which this ancient ritual of the church gives us a slap. Christ in his presence here will move, and this is done with bold insistence that we all gird ourselves to move as well. We are meant to notice that the world that we love, so familiar, so comfortable, so safe, is not OK. God wants us to be on the move.

The spiritual forebearers of this parish, in the Oxford Movement, stunned the church in their day by doing all the things that we are here accustomed to — lighting candles, wearing vestments, using ancient gestures, burning incense, venerating the Sacrament — and awakened a new spirit in the church and beyond. They knew that as they worshiped Christ in a tabernacle, they were meant to serve Christ in the most vulnerable people of the world beyond the stained glass. Lest we think we don’t need to do that — to look for Christ outside the familiar and comfortable realm — he is tonight removed from his usual place, as we are to leave our usual place.

We Christians are meant to be on the move. Spiritually, we have places to go. Physically, we have a world with which to share Christ’s love.

Cyril of Alexandria says that Christians have a “duty not to have, as it were, their loins ungirt and loose but to be ready cheerfully to undertake whatever labors become the saints; and to hasten besides with alacrity wherever the law of God leads them. And for this reason, Christ very appropriately made them wear the garb of travelers.”

My friends in Christ, our deliverance is at hand. The compassion of God is in our midst. Let us hasten to practice what Christ has commanded us to do. And let us be ready to go where God is calling us.

Amen.

Also, up through Palm Sunday, I had been putting a scripture, an image, and a prayer here every day. I’m not doing that in Holy Week, obviously. If you like that sort of thing, head over to the most excellent blog of Penny Nash, which you should be following in any case. Anyway, my sermon is below.

When the Centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, “Certainly, this man was innocent.”

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

On a spring day some 2,000 years ago in Jerusalem, two processions entered the city.* From the east comes a haphazard procession of people who believe the world can be different. They are carrying branches, and their leader rides a donkey. It’s a protest of sorts. It’s a procession of hope. From the west comes a Roman army, marching with weapons and armor. It’s a procession of fear. When these two processions collide, events spin out of control, and the Passion we remember is the result.

Each of the four Gospels tells the Passion story in a slightly different way. St. Luke takes great care to point out that Jesus was innocent. While other Gospels have the centurion saying Jesus is the Son of God, it is Luke who puts the word “innocent” into the centurion’s mouth. In Luke’s version, Pilate does every possible thing to get Jesus out of condemnation, but events are out of control.

Luke is also the only Gospel which tells us that the sun was darkened as Jesus died. For Luke, the Passion — this collision — has cosmic significance. The Passion is the result of a cosmic collision between hope and fear. The Cross reminds us this collision. Over twenty centuries, we Christians have gotten in wrong much of the time.

Too often, we reduce the Cross to a bumper sticker. “Jesus died for our sins.” “With the Cross, the debt of sin is paid.” These are merely caricatures, and like good caricatures, they are true but show only a partial and distorted picture. We have to know more of the complexity of the Cross to understand it.

Too often, we have used the Cross to scapegoat particular people for Christ’s death. But the reality is that the Passion is the collision of God’s perfect love and our human sinfulness. It was not one group who killed Jesus, but rather humanity as a whole. Any of us sinners could have done this.

Too often, we have distorted the Cross to sanctify suffering, as if God wills us to suffer. My reading of the scriptures suggest that suffering is never God’s desire for us, but that God does promise to be with us when we suffer. Far from being a sanction of suffering, the Cross is our rescue from it.

The collision of hope and fear was inevitable. This Cross, then, stands as a warning to us. Now we know what might well happen when hope and fear meet. Two thousand years of Christian martyrs — witnesses of God’s love and hope — bear testimony to the reality of this warning.

But the Cross is also a promise. We know how the story turns out! You can almost smell the lilies and hear the glorious music! Today we gaze at the Cross, but Easter is coming!Hope and fear meet. Jesus is executed, and just when it seems that fear won, God defeats death. Hope wins. Love wins. The Cross, then, is a promise that God’s love will always win, because if God defeated the worst thing the world could do, then God can defeat the challenges we face.

And what of our lives?

I don’t know about you, but I end up in the “safe” procession too often. I convince myself that the reasonable place to be is with the safe people, to be in the procession that makes sense. That’s not where Christians belong.

We belong over in the hope procession, the one with the crazy people who believe that the world can change. We belong with the people who say we don’t have to live in a world where a few people have more of the stuff while others are poor. We don’t have to live in a world where there are lonely people. We don’t have to live in a world of illness and disease.

Over here, over here in the hope procession, it doesn’t make sense. The kingdom of God is here! This is where the fun is, by the way. It’s also the dangerous one. Over here in the procession of love, we are likely to get into trouble. What we say from over here doesn’t make sense much of the time. We are proclaiming a message of hope.

Which procession will you join?

What would Cincinnati be like if we marched out of here in a procession of hope? What if we acted as if we believe that the kingdom of God is here? What if we stopped worrying about making sense, and started acting like God’s love? It will be dangerous, but there is nothing whatsoever in the Gospel about being safe or taking the easy way.

We know what might happen. The Cross is a warning. But the Cross is also a promise. We know that the whole Passion story shows that God’s love for us is boundless. The whole Passion story shows that hope and love can defeat fear.

The Cross is a warning. And we have God’s promise. Thanks be to God.

Amen.

* = For my awareness of these two processions, I’m indebted to Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, in their little book, The Last Week.

The painting is “Study for Crucifixion” (1947) by Graham Sutherland — in the Vatican Museums. I took the photo, and you can find more photos from that trip on flickr.

Zechariah 9:9-12
Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
     Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
      triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
      on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
      and the warhorse from Jerusalem;
and the battle-bow shall be cut off,
      and he shall command peace to the nations;
his dominion shall be from sea to sea,
      and from the River to the ends of the earth.
As for you also, because of the blood of my covenant with you,
      I will set your prisoners free from the waterless pit.
Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope;
      today I declare that I will restore to you double.

Let us pray.
Gracious God, in your mercy, help us to enter fully into the awe, wonder, sorrow, and joy of this Holy Week. Through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

Image: The Triumphal Entry by He Qi.

John 11:28-44
When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Let us pray.
Loosen all that binds us, Lord Christ, and give us zeal to continue in your new life. Amen.

Art: The Raising of Lazarus. Basilica di Sant’Apollinare Nuovo. Ravenna. 6th century.

Psalm 141
O LORD, I call to you; come to me quickly; *
     hear my voice when I cry to you.
Let my prayer be set forth in your sight as incense, *
     the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.
Set a watch before my mouth, O LORD, and guard the door of my lips; *
     let not my heart incline to any evil thing.
Let me not be occupied in wickedness with evildoers, *
     nor eat of their choice foods.
Let the righteous smite me in friendly rebuke; let not the oil of the unrighteous anoint my head; *
     for my prayer is continually against their wicked deeds.
Let their rulers be overthrown in stony places, *
     that they may know my words are true.
As when a plowman turns over the earth in furrows, *
     let their bones be scattered at the mouth of the grave.
But my eyes are turned to you, Lord GOD; *
     in you I take refuge; do not strip me of my life.
Protect me from the snare which they have laid for me *
     and from the traps of the evildoers.
Let the wicked fall into their own nets, *
     while I myself escape.

Let us pray.
Almighty God, keep us in your righteous ways, and hear our prayers. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Photo: From Christ Church, New Haven, CT. As an aside, I will be preaching there next week for the Triduum Sacrum and Easter Day. Stop by if you are in the area.

Photo: The former Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams, at evensong during the Lambeth Conference in 2008. Today we give thanks for the ministry of the current Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, as he is enthroned, as well as all his predecessors. Photo by yours truly.

Psalm 132
LORD, remember David, *
     and all the hardships he endured;
How he swore an oath to the LORD *
     and vowed a vow to the Mighty One of Jacob:
I will not come under the roof of my house, *
     nor climb up into my bed;
I will not allow my eyes to sleep, *
     nor let my eyelids slumber;
Until I find a place for the LORD, *
     a dwelling for the Mighty One of Jacob.”
The ark! We heard it was in Ephratah; *
     we found it in the fields of Jearim.
Let us go to God’s dwelling place; *
     let us fall upon our knees before his footstool.”
Arise, O LORD, into your resting-place, *
     you and the ark of your strength.
Let your priests be clothed with righteousness; *
     let your faithful people sing with joy.
For your servant David’s sake, *
     do not turn away the face of your Anointed.
The LORD has sworn an oath to David; *
     in truth, he will not break it:
A son, the fruit of your body *
     will I set upon your throne.
If your children keep my covenant and my testimonies that I shall teach them, *
     their children will sit upon your throne for evermore.”
For the LORD has chosen Zion; *
     he has desired her for his habitation:
This shall be my resting-place for ever; *
     here will I dwell, for I delight in her.
I will surely bless her provisions, *
     and satisfy her poor with bread.
I will clothe her priests with salvation, *
     and her faithful people will rejoice and sing.
There will I make the horn of David flourish; *
     I have prepared a lamp for my Anointed.
As for his enemies, I will clothe them with shame; *
     but as for him, his crown will shine.”

Let us pray.
Almighty God: let us all sing with joy, giving thanks for the many blessings you have bestowed on us. Today we especially pray for the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Anglican Communion. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

There are more photos of the Lambeth Conference 2008 here.

John 10:1-18
Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away– and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

Let us pray.
Make us worthy to hear your call, Lord Christ, and to enter the gate of righteousness. Amen.

Icon: 19th century Russian.

Matthew 1:18-25
Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.

Let us pray.
Lord Jesus Christ, in all the chaos and temptation of this world, give us strength and grace to remember that you dwell among us. Amen.

Icon: Jesus and St. Joseph by Virginia Wieringa.

John 9:1-17
As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.” They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, open us to see your healing power, and then give us grace and courage to share the Good News of what you have done. Amen.

Painting: Healing the blind man by Edy-Legrand.

Psalm 118
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; *
     his mercy endures for ever.
Let Israel now proclaim, *
     ”His mercy endures for ever.”
Let the house of Aaron now proclaim, *
     ”His mercy endures for ever.”
Let those who fear the LORD now proclaim, *
     ”His mercy endures for ever.”
I called to the LORD in my distress; *
      the LORD answered by setting me free.
The LORD is at my side, therefore I will not fear; *
      what can anyone do to me?
The LORD is at my side to help me; *
      I will triumph over those who hate me.
It is better to rely on the LORD *
      than to put any trust in flesh.
It is better to rely on the LORD *
      than to put any trust in rulers.
All the ungodly encompass me; *
      in the Name of the LORD I will repel them.
They hem me in, they hem me in on every side; *
      in the name of the LORD I will repel them.
They swarm about me like bees;
they blaze like a fire of thorns; *
      in the name of the LORD I will repel them.
I was pressed so hard that I almost fell, *
      but the LORD came to my help.
The LORD is my strength and my song, *
      and he has become my salvation.
There is a sound of exultation and victory *
      in the tents of the righteous:
“The right hand of the LORD has triumphed! *
      the right hand of the LORD is exalted!
      the right hand of the LORD has triumphed!”
I shall not die, but live, *
      and declare the works of the LORD.
The LORD has punished me sorely, *
      but he did not hand me over to death.
Open for me the gates of righteousness; *
      I will enter them;
      I will offer thanks to the LORD.
“This is the gate of the LORD; *
      he who is righteous may enter.”
I will give thanks to you, for you answered me *
      and have become my salvation.
The same stone which the builders rejected *
      has become the chief cornerstone.
This is the LORD’S doing, *
      and it is marvelous in our eyes.
On this day the LORD has acted; *
      we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Hosanna, LORD, hosanna! *
      LORD, send us now success.
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; *
      we bless you from the house of the LORD.
God is the LORD; he has shined upon us; *
      form a procession with branches up to the horns of the altar.
“You are my God, and I will thank you; *
      you are my God, and I will exalt you.”
Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; *
      his mercy endures for ever.

Let us pray.
Almighty God, may we ever rejoice with glad hearts as we behold your mighty deeds. Through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.

Photo: Ancient crosses in stone, found at Um er-Rasas, Jordan, by yours truly.

John 6:60-71
When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” Jesus answered them, “Did I not choose you, the twelve? Yet one of you is a devil.” He was speaking of Judas son of Simon Iscariot, for he, though one of the twelve, was going to betray him.

Let us pray.
Lord God, keep in us the desire for your words of eternal life. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Photo: Mosaics at Santa Miniato al Monte, a lovely Romanesque church in Florence, Italy, by yours truly.

John 6:52-59
The Jews then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” So Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day; for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink. Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.

Let us pray.
Lord Christ, teach us to open our minds to your word, and fill us with your presence when we gather at the Holy Table. Amen.

Photo: Byzantine ruins of a synagogue at Capernaum, built on ruins of a first-century synagogue. This is possibly the place where Jesus taught. Photo by yours truly.

John 6:27-40
Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. But I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe. Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away; for I have come down from heaven, not to do my own will, but the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I should lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day. This is indeed the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up on the last day.”

Let us pray.
Loving God, make us hungry for the bread of life. Fill us with your word and your presence. Amen.

John 6:16-27
When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going. The next day the crowd that had stayed on the other side of the sea saw that there had been only one boat there. They also saw that Jesus had not got into the boat with his disciples, but that his disciples had gone away alone. Then some boats from Tiberias came near the place where they had eaten the bread after the Lord had given thanks. So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.”

Let us pray.
Almighty God: grant us courage that we might be fearless when we see your power at work. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Painting: Jesus Walking on Water, from here.

John 6:1-15
After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.” When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

Let us pray.
May we ever trust in your abundant grace, Lord God, that your blessings in all creation may be known to us. Amen.

Painting: Laura James, Feeding the Five Thousand.

Mark 8:11-21
The Pharisees came and began to argue with him, asking him for a sign from heaven, to test him. And he sighed deeply in his spirit and said, “Why does this generation ask for a sign? Truly I tell you, no sign will be given to this generation.” And he left them, and getting into the boat again, he went across to the other side. Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread; and they had only one loaf with them in the boat. And he cautioned them, saying, “Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.” They said to one another, “It is because we have no bread.” And becoming aware of it, Jesus said to them, “Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear? And do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” They said to him, “Twelve.” “And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” And they said to him, “Seven.” Then he said to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

Let us pray.
Give us eyes to see, Lord Christ, and help us remember all that you have done for us. Amen.

Photo: Above the altar, a mosaic from the 6th century. Santi Cosma e Damiano, Roma, by yours truly.