Christ Cathedral

Old Testament - Jeremiah 15:15-21
Psalm 26:1-8
New Testament - Romans 12:9-21
Gospel - Matthew 16:21-28

In today’s collect we pray that God will "increase in us true religion." But like many religious phrases, "true religion" is something that is difficult to define. The Epistle of James tells us "religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world." Today’s Psalm speaks of religion in terms of formal worship in the temple: "I will wash my hands in innocence, O LORD, that I may go in procession round your altar, singing aloud a song of thanksgiving and recounting all your wonderful deeds." The prophet Jeremiah’s religion consumes his entire life and puts him at such odds with his people that he was stoned to death apparently with the approval of the king of Israel.

I’m not certain that I have a universal definition of true religion. But one thing is certain, when people see true religion, it is almost instantly recognizable and it generally causes people to act.

Some time ago I saw a documentary about a Carthusian monastery located deep in the French Alps. The movie is called "Into Great Silence," and it lives up to its name: there is no soundtrack or even any dialogue. The film-maker simply follows the monks throughout a year-long cycle of life in the very austere conditions of their monastery. They cut their wood by hand. Their diet is mostly vegetables which they grow themselves. They wear simple white robes made of some canvas-like material. And they pray, many times each day, even waking up in the middle of the night to say the prayers which are an integral part of their order’s spiritual discipline.

After watching "Into Great Silence," most people would agree that these monks have true religion - however we might care to define it - and some might even begin to suspect that the true religion that we pray for in this week’s collect is unattainable except for those who don the rough, shapeless robe of a monastic. Monks, after all, do lead quite visibly religious lives, but I don’t believe that true religion is limited to religious professionals. The reason that true religion is not limited to the cloistered few is that true religion is not about any one particular expression of piety, but a deep and fundamental motive for living. Specific actions can be and often are a clue to a religions conviction, but it is motives more than action that determine the true character of religion.

We can see this idea at work in St. Paul’s admonishment to the believers in Rome. When he tells them how to practice their religion, his first words address the question of motives: "Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good." Speaking in these categories of love and genuineness, of good and evil, Paul sets out a philosophical foundation, for his later more direct appeals. This shift is subtle but progressive in today’s reading: "Love one another with mutual affection; [he continues,] outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord, rejoice in hope." So far, so good. We can all love one another, we can be diligent in our work in service of the Lord and we all hope-especially in the resurrection-because this hope is the central commitment of all Christian belief.

Paul’s message, if you haven’t noticed is getting more specific as he proceeds, and he finally arrives in a place where his thinking becomes very concrete: "Be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all."

"If it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ’Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ No, ’if your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

This life described by Paul’s letter is one that is all encompassing. Christians in the first century lived in a world that was increasingly hostile to the practice of their religion, and when Paul speaks of enduring suffering with patience and feeding one’s enemies, he was not exaggerating. He actually believed that Christians were supposed to follow in the steps of their Lord and that taking up their cross sometimes meant just exactly that. In other words, really living a Christian life took a lot more than intellectual assent to a spiritual or philosophical theory.

Given the unfortunate circumstances of the first century, it is a wonder that Christianity ever succeeded at all. But it has, because from very early on, people recognized that among the followers of Jesus, there was true religion. There was something about people who believed so ardently in what they professed that they were willing to change the way they lived-and died-so that their lives would fit with the demands of this new religion. And the faithful outward practice of true religion, it seems, will always attract attention.

Returning to the documentary about the Carthusian monks, I think that this obscure movie is an excellent case in point. Despite the non-existent plot and the movie’s decided ability to live up to its name, it was something of a hit in New York City. It sold-out every show, and people even waited in line to get tickets. You might have expected to see lines of priests and nuns waiting to see something like this, but the people I saw waiting outside of the artsy theatre in Lower Manhattan came from all walks of life: there were people in everything from suits and ties to tattered jeans and tattoos. I don’t know exactly who these people were, but my professional guess is that most of them were not closely affiliated with any church: art house cinema generally draws a pretty eclectic crowd.

So why were people flocking to see this movie? People were drawn to this movie because the simple life of spiritual discipline shown in this movie is mysteriously attractive. In the age of smart phones and blackberries and iPads and countless other devices designed to make life busy, distracted, and stressful, the image of a simple life, of growing vegetables and of constant prayer suggests that there is still the possibility of escaping the noise and confusion of this most distracted time in history.

The life of these monks suggests that a spiritual life offers something more deeply satisfying than anything else in this world. Unfortunately, the daily practice of religion is something which is largely foreign to Christians in the first world. We believe in God, we make charitable donations, and we come to services, but there is little about our practice that sets our public lives apart from the people around us. But this has not always been the case.

Throughout history, Christianity has lifted up seven classic spiritual disciplines. These seven disciplines are as follows: keeping the liturgical year, the holy meal, fixed daily prayer, fasting, tithing, pilgrimage, and sabbath. Some of these, such as the observance of a liturgical year and a holy meal, are already parts of our lives. But as I mentioned earlier, they are so culturally normative, that they hardly strike anyone as being the quintessential marks of true religion. Coming to Mass on Sunday is an excellent discipline, but is not one which sparks a deep curiosity in many people .

If our Christian discipline is going to arouse any sort of curiosity, if the practice of our faith is going to attract attention, if it will cause people to look at us and know that we have a special relationship with God, we will have to do something more than simply showing up for church at the appropriate times.

What would it be like if we did something radical? What would people think if every single member of Christ Cathedral really decided to keep a sabbath? A whole day when we simply didn’t answer email or the telephone and instead spent the time in holy rest with our families and friends? What if we brought back the old tradition of fasting from meat on Fridays? What if we stopped each day at noon to pray, even if we were at work or in a meeting, or on the golf course? What if we went to places, like Jerusalem or Canterbury, not out of historical curiosity, but out of the sincere belief that God’s hand has touched certain places and made them perpetually holy? What if we simply gave a full tenth of our incomes directly to the work of God in this Church?

Practices like these are where our good intentions would really get some legs and begin to go places. If every member of this Cathedral started really taking a whole day off from everything, word would get around. If we gave up meat on Fridays and started praying at work, our friends and associates would soon wonder just what was going on over there at the Episcopal church. And our congregation would no doubt grow. Numerous recent studies have shown many times that strict and demanding religions-Christian or otherwise-are attracting young people and growing in the 21st century. The practice of this kind of religion would almost certainly increase the public awareness of what we are doing at this Cathedral.

And as far as this goes it would be a good thing. The more people know about us and know that we are very serious about our faith, the more people will find Jesus in this place. But I think that there is another deeper and more personal reason for seeking the kind of discipline that is characteristic of true religion. This deeper reason is our own happiness.

Near the end of the documentary, the film maker interviews a very old monk. He is wrinkled, stooped, and blind. His voice is faltering, but as he talks you get a sense that in spite of his blindness he sees far more than most people.

After discussion of how he no longer fears death, the wizened old monk begins to speak of his own journey. He says, "I often thank God that he let me be blinded. I am sure he let this happen for the good of my soul. [...] One must always part from the principle that God is infinitely good, and that all of his actions are in our best interest. Because of this, a Christian should always be happy, never unhappy. Because everything that happens is God’s will, and it happens only for the well-being of our soul. Well, this is the most important. God is infinitely good, almighty, and he helps us."

Lord, increase in us true religion.