Category: Music

When You Are In a Storm

Mark 4:35-41 begins a section in this gospel in which Jesus and his disciples make six voyages back and forth across the Sea of Galilee. In this way, Mark makes the point that the ministry of Jesus was to both Jews and gentiles. The western side was inhabited by Jews and the eastern side by gentiles.

Growing up, I always thought of the Sea of Galilee as a much larger body of water than it actually is. I remember how surprised I was when I visited Israel for the first time and our tour bus stopped atop a hill overlooking the body of water. I could see the entire thing! It is only thirteen miles from north to south and eight miles from east to west.

It is the lowest freshwater lake on Earth. The Jordan Valley makes a cleft in the earth and in the very center of this cleft is the Sea of Galilee, some 680 feet below sea level. Because of this, the climate is usually very gracious and warm, but to the west of the sea are the mountains and some large gullies. Sometimes the cold wind blows down through these gullies and causes sudden storms. All the great writers who have lived near the Sea of Galilee have experienced these sudden storms and repeatedly reported that at one moment the water can be as still as glass and then almost without warning it can become quite turbulent with enormous waves and high winds.

The scene described in Mark 4:35-41 finds Jesus and his disciples suddenly caught in one of these violent storms. Jesus had just finished preaching and was tired, so he lay down and went to sleep. When the storm arose, the waves threatened to overcome the small boat and the disciples were afraid they were going to be tossed overboard and drowned. When they turned to Jesus, they were amazed to find him asleep. They cried out to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Jesus then calmly stood up and commanded the waves to be still. The sea became calm and the storm was gone.

Even though the disciples should have recognized who Jesus was by virtue of his command over the wind and sea, they still seem dumbfounded. The text says, “They were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”

Don’t they remind us of ourselves? When we find ourselves in the storms of life, don’t we have similar difficulty in placing our confidence in the One who guards and keeps us? That may be the chief reason the story has been preserved and retold by generation after generation. It contains important spiritual truths and we occasionally need to be reminded of them.

Whenever we are isolated or alienated, we tend to become anxious and desperate.

This was not the first time the disciples had been in a storm. It was not the first time a turbulent sea had threatened to overturn their boat. Why did they react they way they did on this occasion? I believe it was because they felt that Jesus was unconcerned about them. They cried out, “Don’t you care?” And, in the face of their panic and despair, he calmed the angry sea. Of course he cared about them and of course he cares about us.

The storm story shows us that the disciples needed to hear a voice in whom they had confidence.

When Jesus woke up and heard the cries of the disciples, his voice rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” You and I need to learn to listen for, recognize, and trust the voice of the Shepherd and Guardian of our souls who is greater than our greatest fear, mightier than our biggest enemy, and who has the power to issue orders to the storms that threaten us. Our ears are particularly well atuned to other voices, particularly those that raise our anxieties. We want the voice of our Savior to be familiar enough and clear enough to stand out above the rest.

Wherever and whenever Christ is with us, the storms of life grow calm.

I don’t know what is going to come to my life or yours today, but I know that Jesus Christ is with us and that his presence brings peace. As a pastor, I have stood with people in just about every imaginable kind of life experience from remarkable victories to devastating defeats, in moments of joy and in moments of deepest sorrow. Whether it’s been a whirlwind of celebration or a tempest of tragedy, the presence of Jesus Christ calms the storms and brings the peace which passes understanding.

P.S. This text brought this hymn to mind.

June 21, 2012
“Hail the Day That Sees Him Rise” – Feast of the Ascension

Almighty God, your blessed Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, ascended far above all heavens, that he might fill all things. Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the world; through the same your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Today is the Feast of the Ascension. The Ascension (Luke 24:44-53 / Acts 1:1-11) is probably not the best known of the feast days in the Church’s calendar, but it is one that takes on increasing depth and importance the more you think about it and experience it. In this feast, we are drawn into an event that has cosmic significance.

The Ascension is not about gravity, or the physical location of heaven, or any of that. It is about God. In fact, even though it comes toward the end of the season of Easter, the Ascension is most closely related in meaning to Christmas. At Christmas we celebrate the Incarnation, God becoming flesh and living among us.

What was begun at Christmas is brought full circle and proclaimed again in a different way at the Ascension. In the Incarnation, what it means to be God became fully a part of what it means to be a human being. In Jesus, the human and the divine become united in the person and life of one man. In the Ascension, this human being became fully a part of who God is.

It was not the spirit of Jesus, or the essence of Jesus, or the divine nature of Jesus, or the invisible part of Jesus, or the idea of Jesus, or anything like that, that ascended to the Father. It was the resurrected body of Jesus: a body that the disciples had touched, a body that ate and drank with them, a real, physical, but gloriously restored body-bearing the marks of nails and a spear. This humanity has become a living, participating part of Divinity.

The Ascension tells us that it is a good and holy thing to be a human. It is so good and holy a thing that God became human. The fullness of God now includes what it means to be a human being.

So we are able to approach God with confidence and with joy. Because we are not only dealing with the Creator of the universe and the Sovereign of all time and of eternity; we are also drawing near to the One who lived our life, has shared our fate, who knows us, and cares about us.

St. John Chrysostom expressed it in this way: “Through the mystery of the Ascension we, who seemed unworthy of God's earth, are taken up into heaven…Our very nature, against which Cherubim guarded the gates of Paradise, is enthroned today high above all Cherubim.”

Charles Wesley's Hymn for Ascension Day is also quite a beautiful expression of the meaning and implications of the Ascension.

Amen.

May 17, 2012
Epiphany Through Doubt

The Reverend Ken Kesselus, a colleague in Texas, tells the following story:

Once when a certain preacher launched into a children’s sermon, she was confronted by a visiting child, an eight-year-old friend of a regular member. The boy was new to this church, but was a regular attendee at another congregation that did not have children’s sermons. Nevertheless, the visitor tried his best to follow the line of the preacher’s effort to connect with the children. Attempting to hook the children with something familiar before making her point, the priest asked the children to identify what she would describe. “What is fuzzy and has a long tail?” No response. “What has big teeth and climbs in trees?” Still no response. After she asked, “What jumps around a lot and gathers nuts and hides them?” the visiting boy could stand the silence no longer. He blurted out, “Look, lady, I know the answer is supposed to be ‘Jesus,’ but it sure sounds like a squirrel to me.”

Human beings usually want to give the “right” answer, the answer others expect. The eight-year-old boy had more courage than most of us might have had. He acknowledged what he thought others might want him to say, but he found a way to express his doubt.

Each year on the Second Sunday of Easter, we read the gospel account of St. Thomas the Apostle in which he expresses his own doubt about reports of the Resurrection of Jesus (John 20:19-31). He had not been in the company of the other Apostles when Jesus appeared to them that first Easter. When the others told him they had seen the Risen Savior, he couldn’t believe it. He may have wanted to “go along in order to get along” with the others, but he was compelled to express his doubt. He might have said, “I know the answer is supposed to be that I believe you saw Jesus, but it sure sounds like a ghost to me.”

A week later, Thomas had the opportunity to see for himself and confirm in his own experience that the Risen Christ was not a ghost. But for a period of time, he was skeptical. His questioning and doubting must have been as hard for him as it was for the little boy trying to understand the illustration about the squirrel. Because we too struggle with what may seem clear to others and with accepted norms, we can identify with Thomas and the little boy.

I am grateful to be a part of a Church where it is safe for people to express their doubts and ask their questions and challenge accepted norms. It is a Church where we don’t have to mindlessly accept what seems to be the accepted answer or point of view. It is a Church where it is okay to be doubtful, confused, and skeptical. It is a Church where we can remain in the company of others as we struggle with matters of doubt and faith. It is a Church where from childhood we are encouraged to ask questions and to wonder as we journey toward faith.

The example of Thomas’ honesty and forthrightness fosters hope in us and empowers us in our seasons of doubt. We need that kind of faith community as we wonder where God fits in with harsh and frightening realities of life and death. We need a faith community where we can be encountered by the Risen Christ who can lead us to the truth, just as he led Thomas. In such a community, we can work through our uncertainties and emerge on the other side with an even stronger faith, just as Thomas did.

The story of Thomas affirms that doubt can give way to faith, just as death is overcome by life. It assures us that the God we worship can handle our doubts and fears. It tells us that honesty is necessary in our relationship with God and God’s own people in times of uncertainty as well as in times of confidence.

The Apostles were blessed because they saw the Risen Christ and believed. Their subsequent ministry was to nurture faith among others who had not seen. Jesus said to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” The ongoing work of this Church is to continue the ministry of the Apostles and foster the even greater blessing that comes from walking by faith and not by sight. And for every generation of Christians since the first one, if we are honest about it, we have to admit that faith in Jesus Christ requires at least some struggle with doubt.

That’s really what Easter is all about. We are Easter People, traveling together on a marvelous journey toward those faith-filled moments when we discover the Risen One at work in our lives and in our world – moments so profound that we can only exclaim with Thomas, “My Lord and my God.”

P.S. Here's an old hymn based on this gospel passage and sung to a new tune by Marty Haugen.

April 12, 2012
When I look at your heavens…

It took months for photographer Randy Halverson to photograph the stars above the White River in central South Dakota, Arches National Park in Utah, Canyon of the Ancients area of Colorado, and Madison, Wisconsin. He combined his images in a time-lapse video with music by Bear McCreary, composer of soundtracks to "Battlestar Galactica" and "The Walking Dead."

Along with a star-filled sky, Halverson captured the tail of a meteor and the northern lights. In this four minute video, Halverson takes us through "Temporal Distortion." There is also a 23-minute version.

God took a long time and immeasurable care to create a universe that sustains human life. We are the stewards of it. What a privilege. But I'm not the first to notice!

Psalm 8 (NRSV)

O Lord, our Sovereign,
   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.
   Out of the mouths of babes and infants
you have founded a bulwark because of your foes,
   to silence the enemy and the avenger.

When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
   the moon and the stars that you have established;
what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
   mortals that you care for them?

Yet you have made them a little lower than God,
   and crowned them with glory and honour.
You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
   you have put all things under their feet,
all sheep and oxen,
   and also the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
   whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

O Lord, our Sovereign,
   how majestic is your name in all the earth!

Give thanks to God today for your amazing place in this amazing universe. Do something today to exercise your role as a steward of it.

February 28, 2012
Entrepreneuerial Christianity

My wife, Gay, has become a quilter. Shortly after arriving in Kentucky, she became involved with a group of women in a ministry of the Church called “Cross Quilts.” They gather weekly in the home of a member and make quilts to give to veterans, homeless persons, and children who are Baptized at the Church of the Good Shepherd. Working together adds something to their mission.

She told me about an experience she had recently while shopping for fabric for one of her quilts. As she was walking through the fabric store, a young woman stopped her and asked for help in selecting some ribbon for a project she was working on. Gay was intrigued that this complete stranger would ask for her opinion and curious to see where this encounter might lead. The young woman explained the project to Gay and they discussed the ways in which the ribbon would be used with different fabrics. At some point, she made her decision, thanked Gay, and took the ribbon to the cashier.

What fascinated me about this story is the openness to collaboration between these two women, who had never met before and will probably never meet again. I’ve seen a lot of that since coming to Kentucky, such as the man I wrote about last week who helped me with my shopping cart. I’ve seen a spirit of collaboration in the churches, in the communities, in circles of friends, and among complete strangers.

I don’t know if it is primarily a cultural phenomenon or if it’s in the water or the air we breathe here in the Bluegrass, but people here seem to value each other’s opinions and appreciate opportunities to work together toward some purpose. Perhaps that is why economists point out “entrepreneurial support” as an attractive economic feature of the Lexington area. Entrepreneurs know the wonder of collaboration in bringing together assets in new ways to develop new things.

There are parallels with the Christian mission. From the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, he worked collaboratively with his disciples and others to open hearts and minds to the new thing God was bringing about. He was critical of those who were locked into one way of doing things and who resistant to the fresh wind of the Holy Spirit. But to those who were willing to enter into a trusting relationship with him and each other the way to abundant life.

In her sermon today, during a celebration of The Holy Eucharist at Christ Church Cathedral here in Lexington, Dean Carol Wade told us that she has established commissions to explore various aspects of the Cathedral’s life and witness. I was fascinated to hear her say that one of those commissions is “The Entrepreneurs Commission.” She described their role as “discovering resources for the increase of ministries.” What a great concept! What an expression of a theology of abundance!

God has provided all the resources we need to do what God is calling us to do. Our job is to open our eyes to see God’s hand at work around us to discover those resources and employ them in new ways in the service of the Gospel.

At the top of the list of resources is people who share a love of Jesus Christ. Christianity has been a collaborative and entrepreneurial enterprise from the beginning. Despite tendencies of the culture to cast Christianity in terms of a private relationship between the believer and Jesus, authentic Christianity is always corporate and collaborative at the core.

A good example is Matthew 18:19-20 where Jesus says, “Again, truly I tell you, if two of you agree on earth about anything you ask, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” The Greek word for agree in this passage of scripture is συμφωνία, meaning "agreement or concord of sound", "concert of vocal or instrumental music", from σύμφωνος, "harmonious" (Oxford English Dictionary). It is also the origin of the word symphony.

Is it any wonder that Christians sing when we gather? When we live and work collaboratively in Christ’s mission, we make beautiful music that expresses our life in Christ.

February 2, 2012
What kind of heart is receptive and spacious enough for Emmanuel?

Childrens' Advocate Marian Wright Edelman passed along a story told to her by The Rev. William Sloan Coffin when he was Pastor of the Riverside Church in New York City.

It was Christmas Eve and the pews at New York City's Riverside Church were packed. The Christmas pageant was underway and had come to the point at which the innkeeper was to turn away Mary and Joseph with the resounding line, "There's no room at the inn!"

The innkeeper was played by Tim, an earnest youth of the congregation who had Down Syndrome. Only one line to remember: "There's no room at the inn!" He had practiced it again and again with his parents and the pageant director and seemed to have mastered it.

So Tim stood at the altar, bathrobe costume firmly belted over his broad stomach, as Mary and Joseph made their way down the center aisle. They approached him, said their lines as rehearsed, and waited for his reply. Tim's parents, the pageant director, and the whole congregation almost leaned forward as if willing him to remember his line.

"There's no room at the inn!" Tim boomed out, just as rehearsed. But then, as Mary and Joseph turned on cue to travel further, Tim suddenly yelled "Wait!" They turned back, startled, and looked at him in surprise.

"You can stay at my house!" he called.

Such childlike generosity and hospitality are qualities of the heart that is receptive enough and spacious enough for Emmanuel. The One whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain is graciously pleased to come under our roof and dwell with us. May our hearts prepare for him and may he dwell in us as we celebrate his Holy Incarnation.

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
Descend to us, we pray;
Cast out our sin and enter in,
Be born to us today.
We hear the Christmas angels
The great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
Our Lord Emmanuel.

December 22, 2011
Who knows you best?

The Responsorial Psalm for next Sunday is Psalm 139: 1-11, 22-23 (BCP). It is, in my mind, one of the most lyrical and poetic passages in the entire canon of scripture. In addition to its loveliness, it deals with a profound and humbling truth: God knows me better than I know myself.

1   LORD, you have searched me out and known me; *
    you know my sitting down and my rising up;
    you discern my thoughts from afar.

2   You trace my journeys and my resting-places *
    and are acquainted with all my ways.

3   Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, *
    but you, O LORD, know it altogether.

4   You press upon me behind and before *
    and lay your hand upon me.

5   Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; *
    it is so high that I cannot attain to it.

6   Where can I go then from your Spirit? *
    where can I flee from your presence?

7   If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *
    if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.

8   If I take the wings of the morning *
    and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

9   Even there your hand will lead me *
    and your right hand hold me fast.

10 If I say, "Surely the darkness will cover me, *
    and the light around me turn to night,"

11 Darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is as bright as the day; *
    darkness and light to you are both alike.

22 Search me out, O God, and know my heart; *
    try me and know my restless thoughts.

23 Look well whether there be any wickedness in me *
    and lead me in the way that is everlasting.

When I am searching for God, I discover that God is already searching for me. When I am trying to discern God's will, I discover that God's yearning for me is always for my welfare and that impacts the lives of those around me – loving God in this way leads to loving my neighbor. When I am asking God to answer my prayer, I discover that God knows the best answer and is tailor made for my life.

God knows me better than I know myself. Therefore, if I truly believe that, I yield to God's wisdom and trust God with the results. That is not always an easy task. After all, I'd rather be in control of things, especially things that impact my life.

That's the story of the Bible, isn't it? The wrestling match between God and God's people. In fact, after the patriarch Jacob wrestled all night with the messenger of God and finally yielded, his name was changed to Israel, which means to wrestle with God. As the story unfolds, we see that it is a fitting name. The struggle between the human will and the divine will is the basic struggle of our existence as people of faith. Even though we profess to believe that God knows best, we are bound and determined to do it our way. Even though we say that God knows us better than we know ourselves, we still try to prove God wrong. Even though we hold the conviction that there is no place where God is not, we still try to hide from God.

The remedy for our condition is to grow in our inclination to trust God so that we can be reconciled to God. And, we are assured that God will supply the grace that will help us overcome our resistance, again and again and again. The one who knows us better than we know ourselves will supply the resources we need to align our life with God's life. A wise mentor of mine once told me that prayer is the struggle to harmonize the human will with the divine will. The truth of what he said has been borne out in my personal experience.

Sunday's collect sums it up this way:

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

May we be granted the humility and grace to yield our wills to God who knows us better than we know ourselves, so that we might become the new creatures God has had in mind all along.

P.S. – Here is a wonderful musical setting of Psalm 139 by Bernadette Farrell sung by the Choir of Wells Cathedral. I hope you enjoy listening to is as you reflect on who knows you best.

July 14, 2011
Something Special and Holy in the Stones…

A few days ago, I was preparing an Evensong post for Unapologetically Episcopalian and discovered a nice recording of the William Harris anthem, Faire is the Heaven, performed by the Choir of St. Paul’s Cathedral, Buffalo, NY. I found an email address for the Organist/Choirmaster there and sent him a brief notice that we were featuring his choir that evening. Just as I hit the "send" button, John Linker, our own Organist/Choirmaster, stepped into my office. I told him I had just sent a note to one of his colleagues at the Episcopal Cathedral in Buffalo.

John said, "Oh, Jonathan Scarozza! Give him my regards. You know, he used to sing here." What a coincidence.

The following day, I received a telephone call from Jonathan who said, "I want to tell you something about the place where you are." I was touched by what he had to say and believe you will be too. He was kind enough to put it in writing and send for me to share.

"While living in Lexington, and studying at the University of Kentucky, I had many transformative experiences.

"In my first year in Lexington, I sang in the choir at Christ Church Cathedral. Having sung in cathedral choirs starting at the age of 7, I was nearing a time needed for a significant break from church commitment and attendance. For two or so years, I lived the simpler life of hanging out late on Saturday nights, and sleeping in on Sunday mornings.

"A life changing transformative moment for me came when Bob Burton, then organist at Good Shepherd, invited me into his choral program, put me to work, supported and nurtured my talents, and brought me back to the Episcopal Church and church music. For this I am truly grateful.

"My time at Good Shepherd felt wholesome, loving, and spiritual. There is something special and holy in the stones at Good Shepherd, and this I will never forget to appreciate. Thank you all."

Jonathan is one who returned to express gratitude. How many others might there be? I am reminded not only of the Parable of the sower, seed, and soil, but also of some words of Robert Schuller: "Anyone can count the seeds in an apple, but only God can count the apples in a seed." Seeds planted in the heart of one young man through the ministry of music at Good Shepherd took root in receptive soil and are now bearing good fruit, bringing about the transformation of other lives. How could you ever quantify that investment? How many other stories might there be that can be traced back to "something special and holy" at The Church of the Good Shepherd?

Here's an example of the musical leadership of Jonathan Scarozza. Enjoy it and give thanks to God who continues to inspire musicians everywhere to proclaim the wonders of God's love!

O God, whom saints and angels delight to worship in heaven: Be ever present with your servants who seek through art and music to perfect the praises offered by your people on earth; and grant to them even now glimpses of your beauty, and make them worthy at length to behold it unveiled for evermore; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

– Book of Common Prayer, Page 819

July 7, 2011
Living Stones

A line from Shakespere's play As You Like It reminds us that there are “sermons in stones.” He may have had in mind the great church buildings of the ages whose magnificent towers and arches have inspired people and pointed the way to God. The Jerusalem Temple was a sermon in stone. It was the center of the life of God's people for generations until it was destroyed by the Romans in the year 72 AD. Early Christians came to think of the Church as the new temple God was building to take its place.

After his confession of faith in Jesus as the Messiah, St. Peter was called a rock. He used this metaphor in his first epistle to explain the relationship between Christ and the believers he was binding together into the Church. Peter proclaims in this message to the baptized that God is building a new temple.

Come to him, a living stone, though rejected by mortals yet chosen and precious in God’s sight, and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. - I Peter 2:4,5.

In God’s new temple, Jesus Christ is the Cornerstone. Using an image from Psalm 118, Jesus describes himself as the Cornerstone. In traditional building projects, the cornerstone has to be carefully selected, cut, and set in its position because all the other stones depend upon it. When the world rejected Jesus, God raised him up and made him the determinative building block upon which his new temple is built.

Those who place their trust in the Cornerstone will be living stones in God’s new temple. A single brick is more or less useless until it is joined with other bricks and incorporated into a building. So it is with individual Christians. To realize my destiny as one of the living stones, I must be joined to the rest of you in the temple God is building.

God’s new temple is more than something to look at – it has a function. In architecture, there is an important principle that form should follow function. In designing a building, an architect first determines the function and then let the form emerge to facilitate that function. Imagine a hospital without operating rooms, a pizza parlor without an oven, or a fire station without a place to park a fire engine. The function of God’s new temple is to proclaim the mighty works of God and express God’s infinite love to others. Everything else shapes and fortifies us for the fulfillment of that function.

We do not volunteer to be the living stones in God’s Church, God chooses us. Peter says it this way, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (I Peter 2:9).

P.S. Here's a hymn about the new temple and its cornerstone.

May 19, 2011
Holy Saturday & Christ’s Descent Among the Dead

While searching for some commentary regarding Holy Saturday, I came across reflections posted by The Rev. Canon Patrick Comerford on his blog. Comerford is a priest in the Church of Ireland (Anglican), Director of Spiritual Formation at the Church of Ireland Theological Institute, and a Canon of Christ Church Cathedral Dublin. While Canon Comerford’s message concerns All Souls Day, a significant portion of it has to do with Christ’s descent to the dead, also known as “The Harrowing of Hell” and that is the excerpt I have chosen to share with you on this Holy Saturday.

Before you read the excerpt, I suggest reading the following passages of scripture:

Matthew 12:40

Acts 2:27-31

Romans 8:38-39

I Peter 3:19-20 and 4:6

II Corinthians 2:14

Ephesians 4:8-10

Here is the excerpt from Canon Comerford’s blog:

In the Eastern Orthodox tradition there are several All Souls’ Days throughout the year, especially on Saturdays. Saturday is the day Christ lay in the Tomb, and so all Saturdays are days for general prayer for the departed.

The Western tradition of the Church has traditionally contemplated the cross, and then the empty tomb … and has been totally agnostic about what happened in between, between dusk that Friday afternoon and dawn that Sunday morning. The deep joys of the Resurrection have often been overshadowed in the Western Church by the Way of the Cross, as though the Cross leads only to death. We have neglected Christ’s resting place, his tomb, and given little thought to what was happening in the Holy Sepulchre that holy weekend.

The Eastern Churches, which lack a clearly defined doctrine of Purgatory, have been more comfortable with exploring in depth the theme of Christ’s Harrowing of Hell. For, while Christ’s body lays in the tomb, he is visiting those who were dead.

The icon of the Harrowing of Hell reminds us that God reaches into the deepest depths to pull forth souls into the kingdom of light. It reminds us how much we are unable to comprehend – let alone take to heart as our own – our creedal statement that Christ “descended into Hell.”

The Apostle Peter tells us that when Christ died he went and preached to the spirits in prison “who in former times did not obey … For this is the reason the Gospel was proclaimed even to the dead, so that … they might live in the spirit as God does” (I Peter 3: 15b- 4: 8).

The Early Church taught that after his death Christ descended into hell and rescued all the souls, starting with Adam and Eve, who had died under the Fall. The Harrowing of Hell is intimately bound up with the Resurrection, the Raising from the Dead, for as Christ is raised from the dead he also plummets the depths to bring up, to raise up, those who are dead, no matter where that may be in time and in space. The Harrowing of Hell carries us into the gap in time between Christ’s death and his resurrection.

In icons of the Harrowing of Hell, Christ stands on the shattered doors of Hell. Sometimes, two angels are seen in the pit binding Satan. And we see Christ pulling out of Hell Adam and Eve, imprisoned there since their deaths, imprisoned along with all humanity because of sin. Christ breaks down the doors of Hell and leads the souls of the lost into Heaven. It is the most radical reversal we can imagine. Death does not have the last word, we need not live our lives buried in fear. If Adam and Eve are forgiven, and the Sin of Adam is annulled and destroyed, who is beyond forgiveness?

In discussing the “Descent into Hell,” Hans Urs von Balthasar argues that if Christ’s mission did not result in the successful application of God’s love to every intended soul, how then can we think of it as a success? He emphasises Christ’s descent into the fullness of death, so as to be “Lord of both the dead and the living” (Romans 5).

However, in her book Light in Darkness, Alyssa Lyra Pitstick says Christ did not descend into the lowest depths of Hell, that he only stayed in the top levels. She cannot agree that Christ’s descent into Hell entails experiencing the fullness of alienation, sin and death, which he then absorbs, transfigures, and defeats through the Resurrection. Instead, she says, Christ descends only to the “limbo of the Fathers” in which the righteous, justified dead of the Old Testament waited for his coming.

And so her argument robs the Harrowing of Hell of its soteriological significance. For her, Christ does not descend into Hell and experience there the depths of alienation between God and humanity opened up by sin. She leaves us with a Christ visiting an already-redeemed and justified collection of Old Testament saints to let them know that he has defeated death – as though he is merely ringing on the doorbell for those ready to come out.

However, Archbishop Rowan Williams has written beautifully, in The Indwelling of Light, on the Harrowing of Hell. Christ is the new Adam who rescues humanity from its past, and who starts history anew. “The resurrection … is an introduction – to our buried selves, to our alienated neighbours, to our physical world.”

He says: “Adam and Eve stand for wherever it is in the human story that fear and refusal began … [This] icon declares that wherever that lost moment was or is – Christ [is] there to implant the possibility … of another future.” [Rowan Williams, The Dwelling of the Light: Praying with Icons of Christ, p. 38.]

I ask myself: what’s the difference between the top levels of Hell and the bottom levels of Hell? Is my Hell in my heart of my own creation? In my mind, in my home, where I live and I work, in my society, in this world? Is hell the nightmares from the past I cannot shake off, or the fears for the future when it looks gloomy and desolate for the planet? But is anything too hard for Lord?

The icon of the Harrowing of Hell tells us that there are no limits to God’s ability to search us out and to know us. Where are the depths of my heart and my soul, where darkness prevails, where I feel even Christ can find no welcome? Those crevices even I am afraid to think about, let alone contemplate, may be beyond my reach. I cannot produce or manufacture my own salvation from that deep, interior hell, hidden from others, and often hidden from myself.

But Christ breaks down the gates of Hell. He rips all of sinful humanity from the clutches of death. He descends into the depths of our sin and alienation from God. Plummeting the depths of Hell, he suffuses all that is lost and sinful with the radiance of divine goodness, joy and light.

Hell is where God is not; Christ is God, and his decent into Hell pushes back Hell’s boundaries. In his descent into Hell, Christ reclaims this zone for life, pushing back the gates of death, where God is not, to the farthest limits possible. Christ plummets even those deepest depths, and his love and mercy can raise us again to new life.

[Today], we think again of Christ in the grave, and ask him to take away all that denies life in us, whether it is a hell of our own making, a hell that has been forced on us, or a hell that surrounds us. Christ reaches down, and lifts us up with him in his Risen Glory.

May these thoughts from Canon Patrick Comerford be an epiphany for you on this Holy Saturday. Here's a hymn that also seems fitting for today.

April 23, 2011