Sermon

Sunday, March 1

Forgiveness Sunday-Confession/Lenten Covenant

I am afraid of needles. I had seven surgeries before I turned 20 and in the process developed a phobia of needles. It doesn’t even matter if the needle is going into you instead of me, I still can’t watch it—it still makes me queasy. Blood tests and needles are a part of life, especially as we get older, and especially if we are smart. I suppose you could avoid a needle for many years if you never went to the doctor. But how many people wait years in between doctor visits? I mean, who over 30 would wait ten years in between doctor visits? For those of us who love our lives, who feel responsibilities as parents, or spouses, waiting many years in between doctor visits would seem quite foolish. After all, how do you know for sure that you are healthy, unless you go to a doctor periodically and allow yourself to be examined?

In my adult life, I have several medical nuisances. I won’t call them problems. Problems are people who are clinging to life, who aren’t sure they will still be alive in a week or a month. No, I don’t have any of those problems, thank God, but I do have a few nuisances. One of those nuisances is acid reflux—a flap in my esophagus doesn’t close properly and acid from my stomach can creep back up into it after I eat, especially if I eat the wrong kinds of foods, causing tremendous pain and discomfort in my chest. Once every year or so, the pain gets so bad, that I wonder, is the pain in my chest related to acid or is it my heart giving me the chest pains? And then I go to the doctor because I love my life, my wife, my son, and I owe them and you and myself to stay healthy.

I had one such episode about three weeks ago—I went to the doctor in tremendous pain. The doctor asked what was wrong. And I thought to myself, well it’s probably my stomach, but with chest pains, you can never be sure. So I said that I was having chest pains. The doctor asked me where the pain was, and I thought—if I point to my stomach, I’ll get a prescription for a strong acid suppressor and be on my way, but if I point to my chest, there will probably be a needle going into my arm in the very near future. The honest thing was to point at my chest, obviously, I wanted to walk away from this appointment knowing my heart is okay. So I pointed to my chest, and sure enough, five minutes later, here I was laying on the bed getting a blood test, which I so dread. The blood test said my heart is okay—that’s good. I have been on some acid suppressing medication for the past three weeks. Along the way in the past few years, I’ve made some lifestyle changes—I haven’t had caffeine in three years. I can’t have citrus fruit and a few other foods any more. And now, I’ve got to lose some weight, which I will work at. I’ve got a recheck appointment this week, and will have to be honest with the doctor that I am still having some issues with chest pain even with all the medications I am taking. This will possibly result in more tests and more needles, but if the goal is to understand my health, and to be in the best of health, so that I can live a long, happy and productive life, I have to be honest, and I have to take the consequences medically, whatever the doctor feels they should be. It will be temporary pain, for long term gain.

I’m sharing this information because it is analogous to the sacrament of confession. With Lent beginning this evening, confession is on a lot of our minds. Some of you go every year and will be making your appointments in the next couple of weeks. Some are thinking about going for the first time, or for the first time in a long time, and will give it some thought over the next couple of weeks. Some are probably rolling their eyes thinking, “here he goes again on the whole confession thing.”

No one would dream of going through their life without ever going to a doctor for medical guidance. Why then, do Orthodox Christians attempt to go through life without spiritual guidance? Going to confession is a lot like going to the doctor. I trust medical experts to guide me to live what I hope will be a long and healthy life. When people go to confession, they are trusting a priest to guide them to live a spiritually healthy life. There is no one who goes through life without ever getting sick, who never has a day or a week when they just don’t feel right. There is no one over age 40, probably over age 10 who hasn’t contemplated the thought of dying—when, how, etc. There is no one who goes through life without ever feeling estranged from God, without ever feeling a disconnect between themselves and God. The causes are many—anger, greed, lust, disappointment, ego, sadness, habitual sin. And there isn’t anyone over age 40, probably over age 10, who hasn’t contemplated what happens when we die—the judgment, heaven, hell, which one will I be going to?

Confession is a lot like going to the doctor. It doesn’t really do much good if we aren’t honest. Just like the doctor can’t make a good diagnosis if we lie to him, the priest can’t make a good spiritual diagnosis if we are less than honest with him. And sometimes, when we are honest, it hurts, kind of like the blood test I so fear. But then just like the blood test, the pain is over quickly, and then we’re glad we went because now we know we are all good. And then we can go on for the next little while knowing we are okay in the eyes of God. We can make some life changes and get in better spiritual health. And even though we’ll never be perfect, the same way that perfect health doesn’t last forever, we know we can always come back to confession for more advice, more healing, more spiritual repair, at any time. Why some people, especially older people, but even younger people, shy away from regular doctor’s visits, I will never understand—it’s not safe or smart to assume that you are in good health. And why some people, especially older people, but even younger people, shy away from confession, is something else that I will never understand. It’s not safe or smart to assume that you are in good spiritual health. So that’s this year’s plug for confession. We all go through times of spiritual sickness—we all go through times of spiritual estrangement from God. And this is precisely when we need confession the most. And regardless of what kind of spiritual health we are in, it is important, just like with your physical health, that we have an examination once a year, just to make sure we are on track.

This last year has not been a good one for many people. We are in the throes of a very bad economy that is affecting each of us. For some of us, it is causing us to spend more time with our families and less money going out. Most of us are trying to save more and spend less. Some have cut down on driving. Some of us live in fear, that the next job to get cut will be our own. All of us have lost value on our homes. No one knows if the stimulus package will work or not. Some of us are drowning in stress, too many responsibilities to manage, not enough time or energy to get to it all. Some of us are frustrated, some of us feel stuck. Some of our lives haven’t panned out quite the way we thought they would. Hopefully, in the uncertain times we live in, it will help us focus on what is really important in life—faith and family. I don’t think we, as a community, have needed a Lenten period as much as we need this Lenten period. Lent is really a time to evaluate ourselves, our lives, to take stock of what is really important—our faith—and make an honest evaluation about it. Lent is a time when we pray more and eat less. It is a time when we dedicate more energy to worship and spend less time watching TV. It is a time when we try to slow down more, so that we can reflect more. There is great power in prayer, and great power in worship. And you get a real sense of God’s power when you come to a Compline Service, or a Pre-Sanctified Liturgy, or the Penitential Canon of St. Andrew, done once a year on the first day of Great Lent, tomorrow morning, because of the spiritual energy that is brought to these services by those who attend. The most moving services of the year for me are not when the church is packed on Easter with those who motivate themselves to get here once a year. The most moving services of the year are the weekday Lenten services, when those who are here really want to be here—they don’t come for a meeting after church, or because they feel compelled to bring their kids for Sunday school—they come to pray, to worship, to think—and it is a powerful thing. Divine Liturgy on Sunday is a production—there is pageantry, pomp and polish—and that is good—that brings out hopefully a joyful mood, and an uplifting experience. The Great Compline on Monday evenings, or the Pre-Sanctified Liturgy, which we will hold on both Wednesday evenings and Friday mornings—these services are simple and somber—they help us to think and to reflect. They are the essence of what Lent is all about, what the fathers of the church call a period of joyful sadness. Kind of like my trip to the doctor—a time of sadness, a little bit of pain, and afterwards, joy and confidence. Kind of like going to confession—a time of sadness, a little bit of pain, and afterwards, joy and renewed confidence.

As many of you know, I flew to Philadelphia and back this past Wednesday to visit a sick child named Nicholas, who is a patient in the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, whose family are members of this parish. Nicholas is three years old. He has a rare autoimmune disease. The only hospitals in the country that treat this disease are in Philadelphia and Cincinnati. So his parents have temporarily relocated to Philadelphia, to give their son a chance to live. They will be back in Tampa, when this gets resolved one way or another. Nicholas’ last line of defense between him and certain death is a bone marrow transplant—he had one in January. Last week, it was learned that the transplant did not take entirely. This is very serious. Nicholas and his family need our prayers. They need a miracle. A couple of things happened on my trip that I want to share: First, as you know, when you fly, you have to turn off electronic devices. For most of us, when we fly is the only time we don’t have our cell phones and at the ready. So with no computer or cell phone around, what was there to do? Well, I slept a little bit. I looked out the window some at some very beautiful parts of our country. Metropolitan areas are not beautiful—they are cosmopolitan. Rivers, patterns of farms, the Shenendoah Mountains—these are beautiful. I prefer living in Tampa, but I prefer looking at other places. There is great power and beauty in God’s creation and sometimes we forget that when we are in our city and wrapped up in busy lives. And I started reading a book called “Are you Saved?” which is this year’s Lenten reading. The book, which sells in our bookstore, is only 55 pages long—I’m about half-way through. It is concise and very good, very easy to read, and each page is packed with materials. I am writing so many notes in the margins that there isn’t any margin space left, that’s how many thoughts this book is generating in my mind as I read it. I haven’t finished the book, but I think it’s going to make the top five on my religious reading list, that’s how good it is.

Secondly, my visit with Nicholas was one of the most humbling experiences of my life. Other than having no hair and being hooked up to about 10 IV lines, you would never know that Nicholas is so sick—he jumps around, plays, sings, draws, knows how to make his cross, loves Spiderman and superheroes, even knows how to play video games. However, Nicholas’ entire life is lived in a 12 x 12 room—he never gets to play with other kids, all of his food is taken through a tube, he hasn’t been outside in six months. Every hour of every day, he gets his blood sugar checked with a needle prick to the finger or toe, his choice. His parents haven’t eaten a meal together in 9 months—one of them is always with Nicholas and no food is allowed into the sterile room—so they take turns going to the cafeteria three times a day, alone. Ask Nicholas where he wants to go more than anywhere else in the world—he won’t say Tahiti, or even Greece. No Nicholas really wants to go to Chuck E. Cheese, and play like the kids in the TV commercials. Ask Nicholas what he wants to eat more than anything in the world, he won’t say Burns Steakhouse, or even an ice cream. He’ll say Cheezit Crackers—see, he’s never eaten anything. And while most of us would hold for steak or ice cream, Nicholas would be happy with a cracker. Upon arriving at the hospital I prayed over Nicholas and anointed him with oil from St. Nectarios, the patron saint of those who have cancer. And before I left, I prayed over him again, and as I finished he said, “More oil please.” When Nicholas got over the typical shyness of a toddler, he let me hold him and hug him. I fell in love with that little boy—I hope I will not be the one to bury him. I hope he will recover and one day be an altar boy in our parish—wouldn’t that be just great! That visit was one of the most humbling experiences of my life and also one of the most worthwhile things I have done as a priest. It really kind of puts things in perspective—most of the things we classify as problems should more rightfully be classified as inconveniences. Nicholas has problems. I have inconveniences. If this kid can smile and be happy in a 12 x 12 foot room he never leaves, if he can make a life out of a few toys and videos, squeezed in among hourly needle pricks, why can’t we find happiness when we’ve got the whole world at our disposal? Please continue to pray for Nicholas, and his parents, Nic and Alicia. Visiting Nicholas this past Wednesday represents everything that is right about the church, and all the reasons I became a priest—to bring God’s presence into lives that are crying out for it, not into lives who are trying to avoid it, but to people who so desperately want and need to feel His presence, His warmth, His hope, His love. People who don’t come to church as part of some special interest group, but people who want and need prayer.

I plan to use this Lenten period, beginning tonight with the forgiveness vespers from 6-7, to not only worship more, to not only hear more confessions and make more visitations, but to focus on getting back to the things that are the most important on a personal level—my prayer life, my relationships with other people, consistency in following God’s commandments. And I encourage you to do the same. Lent is indeed a time of joyful sadness—the introspection on the journey oftentimes makes me personally sad. The added services, the added confessions are grueling—they add work to an already packed schedule—but that’s okay, that’s good in fact—it’s good for me as a priest, it’s especially good for us as a community. The more people who come to services, the more people who go to confession, the more people who participate in the Lenten Covenant program, the more people will come closer to God and the stronger parish we will be. And when we emerge from this journey 7 weeks from now, those who have taken it seriously, those who have looked deep inside themselves, those who have been honest, those who have confronted the pain and cried over shortcomings, will find joy, with find healing, will find resolve and encouragement, and will emerge renewed. All of us can benefit from the Lenten journey. It is recession-proof. The Lenten journey is unaffected by politicians or the economy. It can be of equal benefit to all. Some of us who feel estranged from God, who have that gnawing feeling of spiritual pain, like the acid that comes back on me after meals, need to make your way back in repentance and confession so that you can get the healing that you know you need. Just like the doctor, honesty, a little pain, and then healing, joy and confidence. There are extra Lenten Covenant forms up here in the front—you can deposit them in the box after church. There are services this evening, tomorrow morning and evening, Wednesday evening, Friday morning, Friday evening and Saturday morning, ample opportunities to jump right in during the first week of Lent. This Wednesday evening, after Pre-Sanctified Liturgy, there will be a free dinner for all in attendance to talk over how the first days of Lent are going. A reminder to set your clocks ahead next Sunday and to bring any icons you have that have never been blessed next week for the Sunday of Orthodoxy. I hope to see many of you tonight and tomorrow—I hope to see all of you a lot more in the next 7 weeks. I hope to get to know many of you better—I hope to have the opportunity to sit down with many of you in confession, to listen, to guide and to pray together. And I hope that when Lent is over, you will look back at it as a time of personal spiritual growth, and of us growing together as a community. Kali Sarakosti! Have a blessed Lent!

To my brothers and sisters in Christ,

Every time we offer a memorial service, we offer a prayer that includes the words “There is no one who lives and does not sin, You (referring to God) alone, are without sin.” There is no person, no matter how righteous or well intentioned that does not make mistakes. As the saying goes, every saint has a past; every sinner has a future. I’ve been the priest at Saint John for almost five years. And while I love to rejoice in the successes that our parish has enjoyed and relish in good things I have done, I would be a dishonest and disingenuous if I did not acknowledge mistakes I have made along the way. Sometimes I give a good effort but fail. Sometimes I don’t give enough effort. And sometimes I don’t give an effort at all. If as a priest, I am supposed to be Christ’s representative in this parish, I am supposed to give a good effort and be successful all the time. This is why I need your prayers—because as the church becomes bigger and bigger, and that’s a good thing, it requires more effort and more precision to serve our growing congregation properly. Being Christ-like at all times is a heavy burden under the best of circumstances. Combine that with being tired, spread too thin and human frailty and sinfulness, and one can see why I fail at least as often as I succeed. And this is why I need not only your prayers and your support to make the ministry a success, but I need your forgiveness for the times when it has not been successful, either because of something I’ve done, or something I have failed to do. As I look around the church this morning, I can remember many times that I have missed the mark this year with many of you—not responding to a crisis fast enough, a phone call that didn’t get returned, a misunderstanding, a rude comment, insensitivity, and anger, to name a few. And this is why, on the annual Sunday of forgiveness, as the Proistamenos of this community, I am asking for your forgiveness, from my brother priest and co-celebrant Fr. John, from my wife and my son, from my co-workers on the parish council, from those who participate in the various ministries of the church, and from each of you—I am asking your forgiveness for those things that I have done, those things that I have failed to do, and those things that I should have done—anything I have done voluntarily or involuntarily, sins of omission, and sins of indifference. I hope that I will see many of you this evening at the forgiveness service and have the opportunity to personally ask your forgiveness and embrace you in reconciliation. This morning, I stand in front of you collectively and ask you, my brothers and sisters in Christ, please forgive me, our Lord’s most unworthy of priests.