Sworn enemies (illumination of wrath)

THIRTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Readings:

Galatians 3:(13-15) 16-22

Luke 10:23-37

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Gal. 3:22: “The Scriptures imprisoned all things under sin, that the promise by faith in Jesus Christ might be given to those who believe.”

Luke 10:23-24: “Turning to the disciples, [Jesus] said privately, ‘Blessed are the eyes which see the things that you see, for I tell you that many prophets and kings desired to see the things which you see, and didn’t see them, and to hear the things which you hear, and didn’t hear them.”

Reflection

In the 2004 epic film, Troy, Achilles (Brad Pitt) sits in his tent at night, silently reflecting on the day that has past.  A Full Moon illuminates the night sky—not unlike the Full Moon that is always near the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity, today.  Suddenly an old man enters his tent, kneels before Achilles, and kisses his hands.  The old man is King Priam of Troy (Peter O’Toole).  Achilles has just murdered Priam’s son and heir, Hector (Eric Bana), and Priam has come begging his son’s killer for the body.  Achilles warns, “If I let you take him, it doesn’t change anything.  You’re still my enemy in the morning.”  The broken-hearted Priam responds in like manner, “You’re still my enemy tonight.  But even enemies can show respect.”

Today’s Gospel story also has a powerful encounter between sworn enemies.  The Parable of the Good Samaritan has become so entrenched into our culture; not only are churches and even hospitals named after the title character, but even the term “Good Samaritan” has also found a place in idiomatic expression, long after most of us have forgotten the ethnic identity.  In Jesus’ story, a man of unknown origin falls into the hands of robbers who leave him for dead.  Two Judeans—a priest and a Levite—pass him by, but do nothing.  Only a Samaritan has compassion for the victim, comes to his aid, and provides for his needs and recovery.

We can’t really understand the power of this story without discussing its historical context.  In Jesus’ time, Judeans and Samaritans hated each other.  The Samaritans claimed that they were the true Israel, the remnant of the Ten Lost Tribes of the Northern Kingdom, who alone worshipped God at the correct location, at Mount Gerizim in their territory, not Jerusalem.  During a period of forced Hellenization about 200 years before Christ, the Samaritans openly accepted Greek culture, going so far as to dedicate their temple to Zeus, an act repugnant to Judeans.  Decades later, the Judeans, under John Hyrcanus, destroyed the Samaritan temple and the surrounding area.

You can probably see, then, how Judeans might’ve received Jesus’ story about a compassionate and heroic Samaritan.  Time does not always heal all wounds, even ones two centuries old.  We in the United States know this all too well; 150 years have not been enough to heal our North/South rift caused by our Civil War.  And the rift between Judeans and Samaritans extended well past Jesus’ lifetime.  The Gospel of John, the latest Gospel in our Bible to be written, records that, even sixty years after Jesus’ death, “Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.”

So why did Jesus tell this story?  We may never know the true reason, but we can get an idea of how the Church received the parable.  They assigned it to the illumination of wrath, which, given Judean/Samaritan history, is quite appropriate.  Such is the power of anger that the lawyer, the Judean Torah-scholar to whom Jesus told the story, can’t even name the Samaritan as the true neighbor of the man attacked by robbers.  All he says is, “He who showed mercy on him.”  But maybe Jesus, like Priam, didn’t expect one momentary cease-fire to heal age-old enmities.  Maybe one lesson we can get from this story is that, if we can’t yet get rid of anger, we can at least contain it.  We can draw lines over which it cannot cross.  We can still make room for compassion amid times of wrath.  Because we all belong to the one human family, “even enemies can still show respect.”

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and merciful God,

only by your gift

are your faithful people able to offer you

true and laudable service.

Grant, we pray you,

that we may so faithfully serve you in this life,

that we may not fail finally

to attain your heavenly promises;

through the merits of Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect #2 from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary; found also in the Book of Common Prayer, 1662

Almighty and everlasting God,

through you

what did not exist came to be,

and what lay hidden was made visible.

Cleanse the foolishness of our hearts,

and purify our vices within us,

so that we may serve you with pure minds;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and forever.

Amen.

—Collect #1 from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary; translated from Latin by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Hymn: “Praise, my soul, the King of heaven”

(Words: Henry F. Lyte, 1834; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Lauda Anima’, by John Goss, 1869)

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;

To his feet your tribute bring.

Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,

Evermore his praises sing:

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Praise the everlasting King.

Praise him for his grace and favor

To his people in distress.

Praise him still the same as ever,

Slow to chide, and swift to bless.

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Glorious in his faithfulness.

Fatherlike he tends and spares us,

Well our feeble frame he knows.

In his hands, he gently bears us,

Rescues us from all our foes.

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Widely yet his mercy flows.

Angels, help us to adore him;

You behold him face to face.

Sun and moon, bow down before him,

Dwellers all in time and space.

Alleluia! Alleluia!

Praise with us the God of grace.

Living letters (illumination of dejection)

TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Readings:

2 Corinthians 3:1-11

Mark 7:31-37

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

2 Cor: 3:3-5: “You are a letter of Christ…, written not with ink, but with the Spirit of the living God; not in tablets of stone, but in tablets that are hearts of flesh.  Such confidence we have through Christ toward God; not that we are sufficient of ourselves… but our sufficiency is from God.”

Mark 7:34: “Looking up to heaven, [Jesus] sighed, and said to [the deaf-mute man] ‘Ephphatha!’ that is, ‘Be opened!’  Immediately his ears were opened, and the impediment of his tongue was released, and he spoke clearly.”

Reflection

I’ve given some more thought to the purpose of the seven passions we’re examining this season.  Traditional Christianity might say that these came from the Fall from Paradise, our original rebellion against God.  The West focused more on the sinfulness to which these passions can lead us, whereas the East viewed them simply as part of the human condition—less as sin, and more as a sickness of the soul, resulting from our separation from God.  But what if the seven passions—literally, the seven sufferings—exist to keep us connected to one another.  Doesn’t shared suffering bring people together? When you suffer, you get a firsthand experience of what another person may feel, and so you learn the meaning of empathy.

Nowhere do I see this more clearly than when our lectionary calls us to examine the passion of dejection, and specifically this week, the illumination of dejection.  As we said seven weeks ago, dejection may actually be the ancient way of referring to what we now know as depression.  We saw it when Peter begged Jesus to go away from him because “I am a sinful man!”  Now in this week’s Gospel, Jesus heals a deaf-mute man, literally opening his ears and tongue towards hearing and speech.  Depression often leaves us without these, doesn’t it?  We can’t put words to what we feel, we may not even want to talk about it, and we close our ears to messages of hope and comfort.  We shut down two of our main ways to communicate, succumbing to isolation and loneliness.

I’m struck by the theme of communication running through our two readings for this Sunday.  In the Epistle, Paul reminds the Church of Corinth: “You are our letter, written in our hearts, known and read by all… You are a letter of Christ… written… with the Spirit of the living God… in tablets that are hearts of flesh.”  What is a letter—a blog, even—if not a means to get a message across?  Just as Jesus turned the deaf-mute man into a walking-and-talking example of God’s power, here the Spirit of God transforms the faithful into animate, living letters, where the very essence of what God wants us to be is written on their face; walking witnesses of God’s continued presence among us.

So then why does Paul go on to say that “the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life”?  Well, here we have to understand one of Paul’s complex arguments about the Law, that is, the commandments of Hebrew Scripture.  In short, Paul—as well as Jesus—realized that people could technically keep all the Law and miss the spirit behind it.  Thus a priest can walk by a dying man in order to maintain ritual cleanliness.  Thus a man can dedicate his earnings to the Temple to avoid supporting his parents.  More important than doing the right thing is knowing why you are doing it in the first place.  Only the Spirit can teach us about the spirit of the Law; without the Spirit, the Law is “death” and “condemnation”.  And maybe this is where a different understanding of the passions comes in.

Yes, we’re called to overcome and transcend the seven passions, but without them, we would never know what suffering is.  How then would we help others find their voice, and open their ears to wholeness, if we’ve never been deafened or silenced by pain?  How then would we be letters of comfort to the dejected if we’ve never written in affliction, anguish, and tears?  We can go through the motions and be there for someone who needs us, but if we’ve never felt that person’s need, then we won’t truly know why we should be there for them.  The path of healing, the road to the cure, lies not in keeping us as symptom-free as possible, but in living with our spiritual illnesses.  Only then can we come together in true community, in the service of the Spirit, a service more glorious than we alone could ever offer. 

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and everlasting God,

you are always more ready to hear than we are to pray,

and are disposed to give more than we desire or deserve.

Pour down upon us the abundance of your mercy,

forgiving us those things of which our conscience is afraid,

and giving us those good things which we are not worthy to ask,

except through the merits and mediation

of Jesus Christ, your Son our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect #1 from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary, also found in the Book of Common Prayer, 1662 and 1979 versions.

Almighty and everlasting God,

from you proceed all holy desires, rightful judgments, and just works.

Give to your servants that peace, which the world cannot give,

so that our hearts may be given to your commandments,

and our times may be tranquil under your protection;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect #2 from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary; Collect #2 for Evening Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer (1662); “Collect for Peace” in the Book of Common Prayer (1979).

Hymn: “O, for a thousand tongues to sing”

(Words: Charles Wesley, 1707-1788; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Azmon’, Carl Gotthilf Gläser, 1784-1829; adapted and arranged by Lowell Mason, 1792-1872)

O, for a thousand songs to sing

My great Redeemer’s praise,

The glories of my God and King,

The triumphs of his grace.

My gracious Master and my God,

Assist me to proclaim,

To spread through all the earth abroad

The honors of your Name.

“Jesus!” the Name that charms our fears,

That bids our sorrows cease;

It’s music in the sinner’s ears,

It’s life, and health, and peace.

He speaks; and, listening to his voice,

New life the dead receive,

The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,

The humble poor believe.

Hear him, you deaf; you voiceless ones,

Your loosened tongues employ.

You blind, behold, your Savior comes;

And leap, you lame, for joy!

Glory to God, and praise and love

Be now and ever giv’n

By saints below and saints above,

The Church in earth and heav’n.

Not left behind (illumination of vainglory)

ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Readings:

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

Luke 18:9-14

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

1 Cor: 15:8-10a: “Last of all, as to the child born at the wrong time, [Christ] appeared to me also.  For I am the least of the apostles, who is not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the assembly of God.  But by the grace of God I am what I am.”

Luke 18:14: Jesus said, “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

Reflection

Yesterday, Catholic and Orthodox Christians, celebrated the Assumption (or, Dormition) of Mary, Mother of God.  What becomes of Mary after the first Pentecost Day is not found in Scripture.  The Church came to believe that Mary was bodily taken up into heaven, but disagreed as to what exactly happened on her final day.  Catholics claim that God’s grace shielded the sinless Mary from death (cf. Rom. 6:23).  The Orthodox argue that the Mother is not superior to her Son, so she died like any human.  I prefer the Anglican “middle road.”  Our prayer for the day begins simply, “O God, you have taken to yourself the blessed Virgin Mary…”, leaving the details open to the individual worshiper.  At its core, I would say, this day invites us to consider that Jesus, whom Mary humbly received into her body, did not leave his mother behind.

God does not leave any of his children behind.  Indeed, that’s exactly the point of today’s excerpt from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians.  Paul delves into a litany of people to whom Christ appeared after death.  Some, like Cephas (Peter) and James, we recognize; others, like the mysterious five hundred and their mass vision, we wish we knew more about.  But Paul’s point is to showcase the chain of witnesses from whom he received his faith, culminating with himself—but not to set himself above the rest.  I hear regret and sadness in his voice when he writes that he’s “not worthy to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the assembly of God.”  But even a persecutor, last in line, had a job to do in God’s plan.  Paul may have thought he was above these breakaway Jewish believers in Jesus.  But God humbled him in a vision, and lifted him up by his grace to do God’s work.

This same cycle of being on top, hitting rock bottom, only to be lifted back up surfaces again in the Gospel reading.  In this familiar story, we meet two men, two pray-ers, technically.  The first, a Pharisee, an expert in religious law, ritual, and commentary, thanks God for putting him on top of everyone else, for instilling in him a spirituality that makes him better than others.  Then there’s the tax collector, a fellow Jew outcast by his own people, for he did Rome’s dirty work, collecting money for Judea’s oppressors.  He couldn’t even ‘lift’—there’s that word again—his eyes to heaven to ask for forgiveness.  Jesus, despite some ambiguous Greek, seems to say that the tax collector went home forgiven instead of (in spite of?) the Pharisee.  He humbled himself before God, and God lifted him up.

Together, the overarching sense of these stories is that God is especially with us at our lowest points, when we’re most lost.  It’s a very comforting message, and I believe it’s a true message.  But the theme of this Sunday in our “deadly sins” series is the illumination of vainglory.  We defined vainglory seven weeks ago as an “excessive elation or pride over one’s own achievements, abilities, etc.”  At this stage of our idealized inner journey, we’ve successfully purged ourselves of this passion, and the Spirit is planting his fruits within us.  As such then, the Spirit’s lesson is not of comfort, but of warning.

So let us be warned: even as God lifts us up, we must neither cling to our spiritual progress, nor think ourselves above those who are still learning.  We’re called to ask ourselves: How are we like the Pharisee, grateful that we’re finally rising above others, that we know and do more of God’s work?  Even Paul caught himself there: “I worked more than all of [the apostles]; yet not I, but the grace of God which was with me.”  Just as Paul didn’t forget where he came from, we too can’t forget what we were like at the start of our spiritual journey.  Our challenge is to use our spiritual maturity to build up those who are just starting on their way—being present with them, guiding them, praying for them.  Even Mary, exalted in heaven according to tradition, still prays for us sinners.  And it works both ways: if we feel we’re not quite there yet, we have to open our hearts to others who may be, and learn from them—knowing that God will leave none of us behind.

Prayer of the Day

O God,

you declare your almighty power most chiefly

in showing mercy and pity.

Mercifully grant us such a measure of your grace,

so that we, running the way of your commandments,

may obtain your gracious promises,

and be made partakers of your heavenly treasure;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect #1 from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary, used in the Book of Common Prayer, both 1662 and 1979 (“Proper 21”) versions

O God,

you have to taken to yourself the blessed Virgin Mary,

Mother of your incarnate Son.

Grant that we, who have been redeemed by his blood,

may share with her

the glory of your eternal kingdom;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

Amen.

—Collect for “Saint Mary the Virgin (August 15^th)”, Book of Common Prayer, 1979

Hymn: “Come down, O Love divine”

(Words: “Discendi, Amor santo” by Bianco da Siena, 15^th century; translated to English by Richard Frederick Littledale, 1833-1890; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Down Ampney’, by Ralph Vaughan Williams, 1872-1958)

Come down, O Love divine,

And seek this soul of mine,

And visit it with your own ardor glowing.

O Comforter, draw near;

Within my heart appear,

And kindle it, your holy flame bestowing.

O let it freely burn

Till earthly passions turn

To dust and ashes in its heat consuming.

And let your glorious light

Shine ever on my sight,

And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.

Let holy charity

My outward vesture be,

And lowliness become my inner clothing.

True lowliness of heart,

Which takes the humbler part,

And o’er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.

And so the yearning strong,

With which the soul will long,

Shall far out-pass the pow’r of human telling,

For none can guess its grace,

Till Love becomes the place

Wherein the Holy Spirit makes a dwelling.

Temple gifts (illumination of pride)

TENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Readings:

1 Corinthians 12:1-11

Luke 19:41-48

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

1 Cor. 12:5-7: “There are various kinds of service, and the same Lord.  There are various kinds of workings, but the same God, who works all things in all.  But to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the profit of all.”

Luke 19:41-42: “When [Jesus] came near [Jerusalem], he… wept over it, saying ‘If you, even you, had known today the things which belong to your peace!  But now they are hidden from your eyes.”

Reflection

The second stage of our spiritual journey during this season is the illumination of our passions.  What does this mean?  Here’s how Reverend David G. Phillips describes it in his article:

“Illumination is the stage characterized by the infilling of our souls with grace, divine light.  It is the inflow of the Holy Spirit and how the Spirit is manifested in our souls.  It is the recovery of the inner [human being], a call to the resurrection life, to rise to new life in the Spirit, and to seek the vision of God.”

Thus the cycle of seven passions starts over, but this time we look at how the Holy Spirit works with each one of our passions to bring us closer to what God wants us to be.  Rev. Phillips notes that references to the Spirit are especially abundant during the next seven Sundays.  And so today we turn to the illumination of pride.

We read in Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians of all the different kinds of gifts that the Spirit grants the faithful: wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, miracle-working, prophecy, spirit-discerning, speaking in tongues, and interpreting tongues.  But Paul makes it clear that the Spirit decides who gets what, “distributing to each one separately as he desires.”  As we learned at the start of this season, God loved and chose us first, not the other way around.  And seven weeks ago, in the purgation of pride, we learned that we must humbly wait until God exalts us in due time.  Today, the lesson is that we must accept whatever gift God desires to bless us with.  The emphasis, then, is on God’s grace, and our total dependence on it. 

But even here, we must be careful.  The Gospel warns us of a subtle danger, but only if we know how to look for it.  The scene is Palm Sunday, after Jesus has been welcomed into Jerusalem as Son of David and Messiah.  Why are we reading about Palm Sunday again four months after we celebrated it?  That may be the first clue that we have to dig deeper below the surface.  Jesus approaches the Temple, weeps over what he finds there, and then drives out “those who bought and sold in it”, accusing them of having turned God’s house of prayer into a “den of robbers.”  How can this apply to pride, and specifically to the illumination of pride?

Allegorically, the Temple represents our body.  Paul reminds his readers: “Don’t you know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit which is in you, which you have from God?” (1 Cor. 6:19).  Even Jesus refers to his body as a temple.  The Temple money-changers were robbing God’s creation.  They profited from animal sacrifice, currency exchange, and even people’s God-given spiritual desire, as if these were their own to exploit and benefit from.  Do we too become “thieves of grace”—as Rev. Phillips puts it—if we take pride in the gifts of the Spirit as if they were our own?  Because “you are not your own…” Paul warns us (1 Cor. 6:19).

We are not our own.  As we mature in our spirituality, we realize more and more that we belong to something far greater than ourselves.  Whatever we have, or receive, comes to us only by the grace of God—but not in a way that robs our inner temple of free will, self-worth, or inner power.  “To each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the profit of all,” the Epistle reminds us.  God empowers us so that we can empower others.  May we use God’s gifts and blessings wisely—and selflessly—so that, when God comes to visit our temple, God will weep for joy, and we will have peace.

Prayer of the Day

Let your merciful ears, O Lord,

be open to the prayers of your humble servants;

and, so that they may obtain their petitions,

make them to ask such things as shall please you;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect #2 for the Tenth Sunday after Trinity, from the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary; also found in the Book of Common Prayer, 1662

Almighty and merciful God,

grant that we, amid the murkiness of this life,

may neither drown in misleading ignorance,

nor learn to sin through our precipitous will;

but rather, in your kindness,

bestow the fulfillment of your desired mercy

upon those whose confident hope and devotion you favor;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect #1 for the Tenth Sunday after Trinity in the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary, adapted translation from Latin by Joseph A. Soltero

Hymn: “O love that casts out fear”

(Words: Horatius Bonar, 1808-1899; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Moseley’, by Henry Thomas Smart, 1813-1879)

O love that casts out fear,

O love that casts out sin,

Tarry no more without,

But come and dwell within.

True sunlight of the soul,

Surround us as we go.

So shall our way be safe,

Our feet no straying know.

Great love of God, come in!

Wellspring of heav’nly peace,

O Living Water, come!

Spring up, and never cease.

Love of the living God,

Of Father and of Son,

Love of the Holy Ghost,

Come, fill each needy one.

Taking the test (purging lust)

NINTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY

Readings:

1 Corinthians 10:1-13

Matthew 7:15-23 (24-27)

Key Verses (using the New Revised Standard Version):

1 Cor. 10:13: “God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.”

Matt. 7:15-16a: Jesus said, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves.  You will know them by their fruits.”

Reflection

SEX!!

Now that I’ve got your attention…

I don’t even remember where I first heard that.  But with a blog entitled “purging lust”, I feel just like that speaker who just stood up in front of a large audience, and screamed the word “SEX!” just to get everyone’s attention.  Sex has always been an attention-grabber.  “Sex sells”, and has therefore become an important part of our consumerist culture.

And yet despite our automatic connection of lust with sex, the passion of lust, as understood by the ancients, encompasses so much more than sexual desire.  The original Latin term for the passion is “luxuria”, which means “excess” or “extravagance”—hence our word “luxury”.  Our word “lust” comes from Germanic/Nordic languages, where it means nothing more than “urge”, “impulse”, or “whim”.  We see this in our word “listless” (literally “without lust”), meaning “lacking energy or enthusiasm.”  We see this in the King James Version of John 3:8, where Jesus says, “The wind bloweth where it listeth”, that is, “The wind blows by its own whim/on impulse.”  When we put these two ideas together, we get the picture that “lust” may be defined as “the impulsive desire for excess”.

When we think about it, we use the word like this too: lust for food or drink, or the lust for power, even a lust for life.  This is why I think the passage from 1 Corinthians was chosen as our first reading this week.  Notice the references to all of those—food, drink, and yes, sex.  The context here is the story of the Golden Calf in which the people of Israel give up on Moses, and give in to their own desires.  They forget the wonders that God had just done for them, and degenerate into an orgy of excess and revelry.  Even “idolatry” fits under the passion of lust; consider how often the Bible connects idolatry with adultery.  The episode of the Golden Calf, therefore, serves to remind us that the passion of lust is more multi-layered than just sex alone.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus warns us about “false prophets” coming to us “in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravenous wolves.”  Now, as I mentioned last week, I’ve switched the Gospel readings for this Sunday and the previous; thus today’s passage should’ve been read last week, when we focused on covetousness and greed.  Indeed, Hebrew Scripture does link “false prophets” with “greed”.  However, I felt that the Parable of the Dishonest Manager, with its more specific references to money, fit last week’s theme better.  So that leaves us with the suggestion that “false prophets” are motivated by lust—in all its forms, including money.  And indeed isn’t this what we see today?  Corrupt preachers of the prosperity gospel?  Sex scandals in the Roman Catholic Church?  Even pastors with a lust for violence, such as those who advocate killing gays.  If covetousness and greed shout, “I want what my neighbor has!” then lust screams out, “I want more! I want it all for myself!”—just like a ravenous wolf.

How, then, do we stop this?  After all, lust is built into our very evolutionary survival; otherwise we’d starve or die out as a species.  But if this makes it one of the hardest passions to control, then it also makes it one of the easiest to spot.  “You will know them by their fruits,” Jesus says.  You can’t preach God’s love while abusing children.  You can’t preach God’s generosity while hoarding resources away from those in need.  You can’t preach God’s mercy while advocating the death of another human being.  And if you are, then your motivations are quite clear.  Most of us, thankfully, don’t let it get to those extremes, but it doesn’t take away the threat of losing control, and wanting more and more.  We purge ourselves of lust by remembering that it is a test of our will and inner resolve.

In fact, as we close the cycle of purging the seven passions, we realize that each one of them—pride, vainglory, dejection, wrath, sloth, covetousness, and lust—has been a test, an internal examination of our strengths and weaknesses, and how we’re going to use them to live our lives, loving God, neighbor, and self.  It’s the type of test we have to take individually—but not alone.  For we have the assurance of God’s presence and faithfulness:

“No testing has overtaken you that is not common to everyone.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength,

but with the testing he will also provide the way out

so that you may be able to endure it.”

Prayer of the Day

Grant to us, Lord, we pray,

the spirit to think and do always those things that are right,

so that we, who cannot exist without you,

may be enabled, by you, to live according to your will;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect for the Ninth Sunday after Trinity, adapted from the 1662 Book of Common Prayer

Almighty God, we pray you,

grant that we may avoid the snares of those offenses,

which divert us from devoutly running after your ways;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect #2 for the Ninth Sunday after Trinity in the 5^th-century Gelasian Sacramentary, adaptive translation from Latin by Joseph A. Soltero

Hymn: “Your love through the heavens is soaring, O God”

(Words: “Til himlene rækker din miskundhed, Gud”, Danish, by B. S. Ingemann, 1845; translated by Joseph A. Soltero, 2014

Tune: ’Til himlene rækker din miskundhed, Gud’, by J. P. E. Hartmann, 1852)

Your love through the heavens is soaring, O God;

Your faithfulness ever extending.

Your righteousness stretches onward abroad

O'er mountain and sea, never ending.

Your love everlasting embraces us, God.

Your kindness renews your creation.

Your judgments, deep as the ocean is broad,

Bring healing, and peace, and salvation.

How precious your merciful love is, O God!

Your wings shield your sons and your daughters.

We feed on bread from your heav'nly abode.

We drink with delight from your waters.

The fountain of life is with you only, God.

In your light, we see light forever.

Those who the way of your righteousness trod,

You keep in your love and your favor.