St. James Major, Apostle

"Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave--just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many" (Matthew 20:26-28)

July 25, is the feast day of the Apostle James, often referred to as “Major” to distinguish him from the other James among the Twelve, the “son of Alphaeus,” who is known as “James the Minor.” It is also clear from the Gospel that Peter, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, held a special place among the Twelve. All three were present with Jesus at his raising of Jairus’s daughter, Jesus’s Transfiguration, and at Gethsemane.

Jesus nicknamed James and John, “Boanerges,” literally, “Sons of Thunder.” And they earned that nickname. Perhaps it was that zeal that led to James’s beheading by King Herod. As he went to his death, I’m sure that James remembered what his mother had asked of Jesus on his and John’s behalf. She asked that her sons sit at Jesus’s right and left when he came in “glory.” What Jesus promised was that they would share his cup and baptism, in other words, his death.

James was passionate in his desire for "success." He was driven to succeed in his ministry as a disciple of Jesus; just as a businessman is driven to control the market for his product or service, or a mega-church pastor is driven to gain enough members to fill the arena. And with James's passion for success came the desire for the rewards associated with that success, witness his mother's pleading. And yet, his greatest mark of success was that James became the first of the Twelve to bear witness to the risen Christ with his life. That's what it means to be a "martyr," and James was the first of the Twelve to claim that exalted title.

And how ironic, or full of grace, that Jesus held so closer to himself someone so driven by the need for "success." Jesus does not want us to sit back in sloth or fear and presume that God's grace will work everything out. Jesus wants active, enterprising partners in his church. There is nothing wrong with wanting success for Jesus's project of spreading the Good News.

But ultimately, God does have a different measure of success. It is not how much money you make, or how big your house is. It isn't how many pledging members you have, or how big the church's endowment is. As Jesus says in the Gospel reading for today, the divine measure for success is: How many have you served, and how well have you served them? May we all follow James, the successful witness.

Praying as Jesus Prayed: Proper 12

"One of his disciples said to him, "Lord, teach us to pray.'" (Luke 11:1)

When I was a child, I asked my parents for something. I don't remember what it was, but it must have been really important; because I remember being rather upset when, after my repeated pleas, they finally said, "You need that like you need a hole in the head!" My begging had come to nothing. But smart-aleck that I was, I still knew how to get the last word. For weeks afterward, I would occasionally cry out, "I want a hole in the head!"

You might also call me "shameless." And that's also what you really should call the "persistent" friend in Jesus's parable. Last week, we heard of the importance of showing hospitality. That's what's going on in this parable. Your neighbor needs bread for his friend who has just shown up at his door with no warning. Of course, it's midnight, and who wants to get up from a good night's sleep; and wake up the rest of your family in your small house while you light a candle and make noise looking for food? So you say, "C'mon. Can't they wait to eat till morning?" But those travelers have been walking all day and half the night. They're hungry, and their host can't let them down. So, he keeps knocking, and knocking, and knocking. Then he starts shouting. And now the rest of the neighborhood is being woken up. At first, they're yelling at the host to shut up. But that guy is shameless. And soon, the neighbors are yelling at you to get up and give the guy what he wants.

It is much more than "persistence" that Jesus is talking about here when he says, "Ask, and it will be given you…knock, and it will be opened to you." The attitude toward prayer that Jesus seems to commend here isn't "persistence;" it's "shamelessness. We should take every desire, every fear, every hope, every wish, every resentment, and get in God's face about it, and not get out of his face until God answers our prayer.

Does that sound like the most mature approach to prayer on our part? For that matter, how does God sound in all this: like a grumpy, tired old man that you have to bug until he finally pays attention to you? Is this really how prayer is supposed to work? Well, maybe sometimes that's where we are. Maybe sometimes we're so sad, so grief-stricken, or so angry, that all we can say to God is: "How dare you let this happen. I want to know why, and I demand an answer from you." And maybe we have to say that, day after day. Maybe, that's the only prayer to God that we can make: a shameless request and search for an answer to our grief and our anger.

Of course, was God's Son any less shameless when he threw himself to the ground and pleaded, "Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me"? And note how our Gospel began today: "He was praying in a certain place." The Gospels tell us what Jesus did and said. Hey don't try to analyze his inner being that way modern biographies do. So, we really don't know how the mind of God's son, incarnated as a human being, worked. Clearly, he was able to discern God's will in a way that we can't even imagine. But was it some sort of telepathic communication where God's thoughts just flowed into Jesus's brain? Then why did even Jesus Christ need to go to certain quiet places, so that a quiet space in his mind and heart could be opened, so that he could hear God's voice amid all the distractions of this world? Why did even Jesus beg for another answer to his prayer that dark Thursday night in Gethsemane?

When Jesus teaches his disciples to pray, he's not setting himself on a lofty pedestal of serene contemplation that is unreachable for us. If we have to start at the level of shameless pestering or fist-shaking, know that we are praying as Jesus prayed, at least once. When we struggle to make the time and space to be in silence, know that we are praying as Jesus did, much more than once. So, to reach the top of the ladder of praying as Jesus prayed is not impossible. Jesus is with us at the baby steps of shamelessness. And as we begin to go deeper, we might begin to ask a different question than why did God let this happen. We might begin to ask, why am I so angry or sad or fearful? What is it that really pushes my button, and why? Sometimes, the first step to praying as Jesus prayed is to look at ourselves. If prayer is communication with God, sometimes it may be necessary to communicate with ourselves first.

Having reached that step of the ladder, we are even closer to praying as Jesus prayed. For in that communication with ourselves, we find more understanding. And in that understanding, we will find that there is less of our grief, our fear and anger. And there is more room in our hearts for the hopes and griefs of others. And when we have made that room, then we will be able to pray in the words that Jesus has taught us in today's Gospel, "Father…your kingdom come." A kingdom in which all people are fed in their bodies and souls with the love of God.

Never be ashamed of your anger or your sadness. Shamelessly bring your complaints before God. Do not fear to examine those darker emotions; for with that examination comes understanding, and an open heart to the kingdom of God, and all our brothers and sisters in that kingdom. Lord, teach us to pray.

Feast of St. Mary Magdalene, July 22

"For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all" (2 Corinthians 5:14)

The Gospels say nothing about Mary Magdalene being a prostitute. All we are told is that from her "seven demons had come out" (Luke 8:2). The passage quoted above points to the fact that something, or someone, had a power over Mary and compelled her to do the will of someone other than God. Presumably, that led to her condemnation by the "good people" of the town of Magdala. But Jesus's love "compelled" Mary to turn away from whatever demons controlled her life.

That love compelled Mary to remain with her Master, even when he was dying on the cross, when all the men save one had run away and gone into hiding. That love compelled Mary to go to the tomb early on Sunday morning, for no other reason than to be as close to Jesus as he could get. The love of the risen Jesus who called her by name – "Mary!" – compelled her to become the first apostle.

To be an apostle is literally to be "sent." And sent Mary was, first to the official 12 Apostles, then according to some stories, to the Roman Emperor Tiberius. According to the story, she held an egg and proclaimed that Jesus was raised. Tiberius scoffed that a man rising from the dead was as likely as the egg in Mary's hand turning red, which it immediately did. Whereupon Mary preached the Good News to all the royal household.

There are many forces in the world, which try to compel you to make certain choices – advertisers, political spin doctors, angry preachers, dictators. But what does love compel you to do? Pray that the same compulsion, which gripped Mary's heart, may move your own.

The Daily Office: Psalm 41

"Happy are those who consider the poor and needy! The LORD will deliver them in the time of trouble (Psalm 41:1)

The author of this Psalm has his share of trouble. "My enemies are saying wicked things about me: 'When will he die and his name perish?'" (v.5) But he is not a navel-gazer, focusing only on his personal trouble. In the midst of his own trouble, he refuses to forget the troubles of others. Even as he seeks comfort from his God, he also seeks the encouragement that only God can give, so that he will continue to reach out to the poor and needy.

It's a busy week here at Christ Church. Our Bishop, Henry Parsley, is coming to offer his support to us tomorrow. And on Saturday afternoon, we will celebrate with exceeding joy a wedding in the family; as Debby and Bill Simmons' daughter, Katie, is joined in marriage to Jon Atchison. On Saturday morning, we will consider the poor and needy as we continue our Beans and Rice ministry. From 9-11 am, we will hand out bags of uncooked beans and rice to any who come for help.

Even in the midst of our own troubles, and our celebrations, we consider the poor and needy. How happy God wants us to be in all these things!

Holy Hospitality: 11th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Hospitality toward strangers is at the heart of today's story in Genesis of Abraham, Sarah and the three visitors. The Russian iconographer Andrei Rublev imagined the three as the Trinity, sitting round a table, with heads bowed in respect and affection toward each other. That isn't how the Israelites would have seen these three. Their understanding of monotheism wouldn't permit that. But as this story was handed down to them, they surely puzzled over its meaning.

"The LORD appeared to Abraham," we read. The one and only God chose to come to Abraham and Sarah, to give them the news they had longed to hear for so many years; that Sarah in her old age would finally have a son by Abraham. And yet what should Abraham see but "three men" before him. Later, we are made to understand that one of the visitors is the LORD, who will stay to converse with Abraham after the other two "men" go on to Sodom and Gomorrah. There they will test the Sodomites, to see if they will show the same hospitality that Abraham shows.

So here are three visitors one being God himself, the other two being "men" or "angels" of some sort. And Abraham shows his hospitality by running to them and bowing before them and offering them a meal and a place to sleep for the night. Of course, he would have been obligated to do this even if his three visitors were really just human beings In a harsh land of mostly desert and occasional wet and green, where people frequently had to travel to find better land, the code of hospitality reigned. If a stranger showed up at your tent, you showed hospitality toward them. And when you had to travel, you could trust that the same hospitality would be shown toward you.

And so Abraham bows before the three and begs them not to pass on, "if my Lord should find favor with your servant." But who is Abraham speaking to here? There appear to be three men standing before him. But only one is the LORD, his God. And surely Abraham knows that God doesn't need any food or water. What our Jewish brothers and sisters have understood is that Abraham is speaking to his LORD and is asking him to wait while he and Sarah show hospitality to the other visitors. Before God can even get a word in edgewise, Abraham interrupts him to say, let me show hospitality to your two friends first, and then I will listen to what you have to tell me.

And Abraham's God, who is our God, silently agrees that hospitality must be shown to those who need it before Abraham turns his attention to God. That's how important hospitality is to our God, and how important it must be for us. But of course, this is a nice story from thousands of years ago in a very different world. What relevance does it have for us 21st century Americans? At least in the case of Sergeant Marcus Luttrell, I believe its relevance was a matter of life and death.

Sgt. Luttrell was one of four Navy SEALs in 2005 who were assigned to find a kill or capture a Taliban leader in Afghanistan. Unfortunately, their position was discovered almost as soon as they deployed. Soon, they were being fired on from all sides by anywhere from 80-150 Taliban insurgents. The running firefight continued for hours, and eventually three of the four SEALs were dead. Sgt. Luttrell was the lone survivor, and he himself was seriously wounded, having been blown off a cliff by a rocket propelled grenade. But still he kept moving and shooting, killing six more of his enemies as he walked and crawled for another seven miles.

In the meantime, a Chinook helicopter took off to find the missing SEALs, but Taliban insurgents shot it down, killing all 16 Navy men on board. Sgt. Luttrell was close to his end as well. Bleeding and exhausted, he wandered into a Pashtun village called Sabri-Minah. All he could do was throw himself at the mercy of these villagers. But these backward Pashtuns, living in a world as harsh as Abraham's, understood the ancient code of Hospitality, which they called Lokhay Warkawa. If any of those villagers had seen Luttrell outside of their village when he was healthy and on the hunt, they probably would have killed him. But now they took him in; gave him a place to sleep, food to eat; and they cared for him as best they could, just as they would have cared for one of their own.

Of course, it wasn't long before word got around that an American soldier was in this village. The local Taliban soon heard of this. And they sent some insurgents to this village to claim their prize. When they arrived they were met by the men of the village. The Taliban said, we want the American. The Pashtun villagers said, you can't have him. He came to us, not as an enemy, but as a stranger seeking hospitality, and we are obligated to extend it to him. Unhappy, but unable to challenge the Village, the Taliban left. Some days later, one of those villagers walked 20 miles to the nearest Allied base, and arranged for Sgt. Luttrell to be picked up and carried to safety.

Abraham understood the importance of showing hospitality. The people of Sabri-Minah understood the importance of showing hospitality. What might Abraham, and some Afghan tribesmen, be able to teach 21st century Americans about Hospitality?

St. Benedict

Proverbs 2:1-9
Luke 14:27-33

The Feast of St. Benedict is celebrated on July 11, which happened to fall on a Sunday. The Resurrection of our Lord always takes precedence over an individual saint. So, as we celebrate our midweek Eucharist on Tuesday, we at Christ Church remember Benedict today.

At the beginning of the 500s, the Roman Empire had collapsed in Europe. Barbarian chiefs fought each other, trade collapsed. The Roman infrastructure also collapsed. Inflation became astronomically high. For most, life was a struggle not to starve, or be murdered. Seeing the chaos around him, Benedict withdrew to a cave to do nothing but pray. He took Jesus's words to heart and let go of all possessions –any material thing of passing value that would distract him from the eternal value of knowing Jesus Christ.

In that letting go, Benedict began to find the wisdom promised in Proverbs. Soon, others began to be drawn to the hermit in the cave, sensing the calm that reigned in that cave amid the chaos gripping Europe. Eventually, Benedict founded a community, from which almost all other western monastic orders would come. The monk who sought solitude in the cave became the founder of communities all over Europe where travelers found hospitality, and those who committed themselves to the monastic life found wisdom and love.

But you don't have to be a monk or a nun to live the Benedictine life. At the heart of the Benedictine community was the Daily Office of psalms, scripture readings and prayers. That tradition continues in our own Daily Office, as found in our Book of Common Prayer. It continues when I or two of us gather to say Morning Prayer at 9 am, Monday through Thursday. Can't join us in person? No problem. Just click on the Daily Office online. Don't have time for all those psalms and readings and canticles and creeds and prayers? I get it. So just pick one psalm, one biblical reading, and one prayer, every day. It will take less than 15 minutes. You'll be praying with us in the church, and we will be a Benedictine community, letting go of our fears and gaining the wisdom that comes only from being in the presence of God.

The Daily Office, Joshua 2:1-14

So what's this doing in the Bible? The chosen people taking help from a prostitute? Well, for starters, it's a cliché, but no less true, that but the grace of God goes every sinner from Rahab's day to our own. Who knows what circumstances put Rahab in the position of feeling she had no choice but to sell her sexuality for far less than what it was actually worth in the eyes of God.

But Rahab, whom the local residents of Jericho can only see as the local whore, recognizes what they don't: "I know that the LORD has given you this land…for the LORD your God is God in heaven above and on the earth below." That LORD is Yahweh, the God of the Israelites, whom Rahab recognized as the God of the entire universe. For this, Rahab is recognized in the New Testament as a hero of faith, along with Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph and Moses.

And look at Jesus's family tree in the Gospel of Matthew. There you will find Rahab listed as the great-great-great grandmother of King David. Ultimately, she is the ancestor of Joseph, and by adoption, our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. We would do well to imitate Rahab's trust, rather than be offended by her.

My Enemy, the Good Samaritan

Boundaries: we all have them. Some are very visible and public, like national borderlines. Others are more personal, rooted in a wounded heart trying to protect itself against further hurt. In either case, those boundaries help us to answer the lawyer's question to Jesus: "Who is my neighbor?" While most of us have heard the call to be good Samaritans from today's parable, the fundamental question that Jesus answers today is not how to be a Good Samaritan, but who is my neighbor.

And so, "a man was going down" between Jericho and Jerusalem. Any man, or woman, Jesus doesn't say what kind of person. It could be anyone, you or me. And he fell into the hands of robbers; who took everything he had, even the clothes on his body; beat him to an inch of his life; and left him by the side of the road, naked, to die.

And so along came a priest, perhaps on his way to Jerusalem to perform his worship duties at the Temple. Generally speaking, this road between Jerusalem and Jericho was only traveled by Jews. Surely the priest knew his duty to love his neighbor as himself. And even the lawyer would agree that a fellow Jew fell inside his boundary. But as a priest, he had to avoid contact with the dead, or else he would be considered ritually unclean and unable to perform his priestly service. From a distance, he couldn't tell if his neighbor was already dead; but it was probably more prudent not to take the chance. The same went for the Levite, the acolytes of the day.

But now along comes a Samaritan merchant, with enough wine and oil to sell, apparently on a business trip. Samaritans and Jews hated each other. There were very clear boundaries between Samaria to the north and Judea to the south. They wouldn't even travel through each other's territory if they could avoid it. Ironically, the national boundary was very clear because the religious boundary was less so. The Samaritans claimed to be descended from the northern tribes of Israel, who had been decimated centuries earlier by the Assyrians. They claimed to be more faithful followers of the LORD, the God of the Jews, than the Jews themselves. They had their own temple, which the Jews had once destroyed. The Samaritans had once spread human bones inside the Jerusalem temple, thus forcing the cancellation that year of the observance of Passover in the Temple.

Jesus himself had encountered Samaritan hostility when one of their villages wouldn't receive him because he set his face toward Jerusalem. He knew that he was throwing a bomb into his discussion with the lawyer. But throw it he did. And consider the Samaritan in our story. He knows that he is on a road mostly traveled by Jews. He can assume that the half-dead man beside the road is his enemy. Why delay his important business for an enemy?

Yet, out of a compassion that respects no human boundary, this Samaritan treats his enemy as his neighbor. He uses wine, which he might have sold, as a disinfectant for the man's wounds. He uses oil, which he might have sold, to soothe his burning body. He takes on the packs he had put on his donkey, so that the wounded man who can't walk can rest. He takes the man to an inn and pays for his care and lodging. And in case the wounded man's care costs more than what the Samaritan gives the innkeeper; he promises to pay the man's debt so that the innkeeper won't claim him as an indebted slave.

What a boundary Jesus has tried to break. "Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers," Jesus asks the lawyer. Put yourself in the place of that half-dead man, Jesus prods him, and ask yourself who your neighbor is. The poor lawyer can't answer the question directly. He can't even bring himself to say the word, "Samaritan." All he can implicitly admit is that the face of the neighbor he sees bending down over him is the face of one showing mercy. And while he can't say it, he knows that is the face of his enemy shattering the boundaries between them.

Who is your neighbor? Jesus doesn't answer the lawyer's question directly. He told a story and tossed the question back to the lawyer. I can't answer that question for all of you. Only you know your boundaries. But I can tell you this. Put yourself in the place of that naked, bleeding man by the side of the road. Then think of the person whom you could never imagine offering you help. Then, imagining yourself as the person who fell into the hands of robbers, look for the face of your enemy bending down to help you. I hope you can answer, more directly than the lawyer could, Jesus's question: Who is your neighbor?

Cold Love

“And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.” (Matt. 24:12)

It's been said that truth is the first casualty of war. Perhaps the second is love. When people see the damage done by immorality, the first instinct is to reassert the old morality. Then, if you gain enough power, you can perhaps re-impose that morality. The desire to restore order in a world of moral anarchy is understandable. But our Lord and Savior warns us today that the worst casualty of that war may be our love.

Preachers rail at a culture that seems to have shut its ears to the Good News. So the solution is to just yell louder. That's what the street preacher I heard in Williamsburg during our family trip seems to think. He stood just close enough to a street to say that he was on public property, so that the police couldn't make him leave. And he yelled about escaping damnation. Meanwhile group of high school students visiting Colonial Williamsburg stopped to see the show, and to make fun of the street preacher.

My son later told me that he also goes on the campus of William and Mary and does the same thing. He seemed to save his angriest comments for the girls who dress too skimpily. Was his criticism of our permissive culture wrong? Probably not, but who cares about an angry guy who can't even take the trouble to be a friend to those whose souls he claims to care about?

The person whose soul you're trying to save won't care about anything you say unless he or she sees that you care about them. Are we called to be evangelists – communicators of the Good News? Absolutely. But perhaps what our Presiding Bishop calls "evangelistic listening" should be our first approach to that communication. Keep your love warm.

Healing Eucharist, Tuesday, Proper 9

Matthew 23:1-15,23-26

There is no "Lesser Feast" of a saint any day this week, so let's look at the Daily Office reading for today; when we see Jesus go ballistic. "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!" Jesus shouts at them again and again. And yet, before he begins his list of woes, he tells the crowd that has been watching him debate the Pharisees: "The teachers of the law and the Pharisees have inherited Moses' authority; so heed what they say, but not what they do." Doesn't it seem strange for Jesus to give them any credit?

Of course, it is in Matthew's Gospel that we hear Jesus say, "Don't even think that I have come to nullify the Law of Moses. I have not come to nullify the Law, but to complete it" (Matt 5:17). Jesus honored the Law that God had given to Moses. Of course, with over 600 separate rules in the Law, experts were needed to interpret the Law. And Jesus doesn't question their expertise.

The Pharisees and legal experts knew the Law inside and out. They got every question on the test right. Their problem was they seemed to think that getting the right answers was all it took to enjoy life with the living God. But the life of faith is not just about right teaching. It is also a matter of right action: "You have cancelled the most important parts of the Law – justice, mercy and trustworthiness," Jesus says to them (Matt 23:23).

But even more than that, life with God is a journey and a relationship. God walks with us in that journey. Sometimes, we take the wrong path and get lost. When we realize that, do we assume that God left us alone on that dark path? Absolutely not: that is when the Holy Spirit, which comes from the Father and the Son, is closest to us, holding our hand. God never stops looking at us, no matter what we do. And God will always be ready to help us get back on the right path, one step at a time.

Sometimes, the path of healing can seem too long for us to even start. But only God really knows how long our healing will take. All God asks of us is that we put one foot in front of the other, and he will take care of the rest. And don't worry about failing the test. After all, the Pharisees passed the test. For we have never had a more patient teacher than Jesus Christ.

Independence Day, July 4

I wish I could tell you that the Episcopal Church has always honored this special day. But truth be told, the Episcopal Church's relationship with American independence is somewhat complicated. In the days when the United States were just 13 colonies, our forbears were members of the Church of England, the state church of the English nation. So, when many American patriots rose up in rebellion against the King of England, other Americans remained loyal to their mother country. William White, an Anglican clergyman in New Jersey, supported the cause of American independence. Samuel Seabury, an Anglican priest in Connecticut, was a chaplain to British troops during the war. After the war, when America had become an independent nation, it would have seemed impossible for Seabury and White to ever belong to the same church again; or for a church so closely associated with England as the Anglican church to survive here.

And yet it did. Both Seabury and White became the first bishops on this land, and were instrumental in forming the Episcopal Church. Just as the Church of England had a Book of Common Prayer, so Episcopalians in America set out to compose a prayer nook for their church. A proposed Book of Common Prayer was published in 1786. It included a set of biblical readings and a prayer to commemorate this special day, the same as we have in today's prayer book. But the proposed book met with considerable opposition. And according to one writer of the time, "The Thanksgiving for the Fourth of July is in all probability the one principal cause of the opposition. Even Bishop White, a supporter of American Independence, realized that it was too soon after the war for too many former Anglican clergy to accept that American Independence was something to be thankful for. At the first General Convention of the Episcopal Church in 1789, all mention of Independence Day was removed from the Book of Common Prayer. Not until 1928 was Independence Day restored to the prayer book as a day of thanksgiving to be celebrated in the Episcopal Church, as it ought to have been.

And perhaps, if those who opposed the inclusion of these readings and collect had read them more deeply, they might not have been so opposed. For in these readings from the Word of God challenge us as Americans as much as they affirm us. As we rightfully give thanks for God's blessings on our country, we are reminded in Deuteronomy that as a people who regularly pledge "liberty and justice to all" that we are to provide justice for the powerless and the disadvantaged – the widow, the orphan and the stranger. For as Moses says to the people of Israel, "you were strangers in the land of Egypt." Those who know the history of Israel should see the parallel here. The Israelites were strangers who came to the land of Canaan, drove out the natives and accepted the land as God's gift. We drove out the natives and have accepted this land as a gift. Whenever you drive down 431 to Guntersville, know that you taking the same route that the Cherokee nation took on the Trail of Tears. This land is a gift to us that is now up to us to earn, by providing justice to the strangers among us.

If that isn't bracing enough, consider Jesus's word for us today: "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." Does that mean that we should just lie down before our enemies and let them have their way with us? In my humble opinion, no, it does not. This country has had to take up arms to defend itself, and others, against tyranny, oppression, and evil. But it does mean that our military victories, the battles and wars we take pride in having won, cannot have just been about making America the most powerful nation on earth, the biggest dog on the block. It is God's intention and purpose to bring all people together and to reconcile all enemies before his heavenly throne. Whatever blessings and triumphs God has given us over the past 234 years are only a part of God's plan to execute justice and reconciliation. And we Americans are called to use God's gifts to us for that purpose and no other.

If the reconciliation of all peoples seems a tall order, then start here at home. Some years ago, I had the honor of being befriended by a veteran of the 82nd Airborne Division, who had survived the jump behind German lines on D Day. Over a drink one night, I ventured into the issue of President Clinton. He muttered, "That's just politics." In other words, don't go there. What was he trying to say to me? I think that what he was trying to say was this: I didn't risk my life, and kill my fellow human beings, for conservatives or liberals, Republicans or Democrats. What I did, I did for all Americans. On this our 234th birthday, let us give thanks for the United States of America. Let us thank God for his many blessings to us. Let us pray for God's guidance through this difficult time of war and economic distress. But most of all, let us pray for the grace to earn God's gifts to us, with justice for all, and reconciliation with all.