Tag Archives: faith

April 8, 2025 · 6:56 pm

Living beyond our blindness (Sermon)

“Christ healing the blind,” by Thobias Minzi, Tanzania (2010)

This morning as we come within a day’s walk from Jesus’ goal, the cross, we hear the third of three predictions within Luke’s account of Jesus’ death and resurrection. These predictions have been gifted to his disciples to help them prepare themselves for what must come – a future they have been resisting. “Everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished,” Jesus taught, to include his suffering and death. The cross cannot be avoided.

So, who’s responsible for Jesus’ suffering and death? These three prophecies give us a clue. In the first prophesy (Luke 9:21-22), Jesus accuses the elders and chief priests and scribes of what will come. During the second (Luke 9:44), Jesus says he will be handed over the hands of men – all humankind is hinted at here, including the Passover mob in Jerusalem. They will soon shout for another’s release rather than for the release of our beloved Jesus. In the third prediction (from today’s sermon text), we hear that he will be handed over to the Gentiles, nonbelievers, the Romans, and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. The religious authorities against Jesus, the Romans and powers of this world, and we ourselves share responsibility for Jesus’ death. For through our sinfulness and participation in the fallen nature of this world, we all share guilt in his condemnation. Not one of us is free of this sin. For even as he “died for us,” Jesus died for our sins.

You might also notice that Luke’s account leading to Christ’s cross is not a straight-line journey geographically. Jesus has wondered a bit to attend to his ministry and await the right time. Yet it remains a journey of destiny…a fulfillment and offering of all that Jesus is and has for the sake of others. And as he speaks of his death, this love for the world, Jesus often teaches that disciples (including us) have our own crosses to bear as we might be ridiculed, attacked, or even killed for our faith – our trust in Jesus. Yet, our cross is also found in the sacrificial love we are to offer each day to others including our enemies – such things as patience, charity and care, as well as forgiveness. In doing so, we are to die to ourselves. We lay aside our will and our good in order to fulfill God’s will and the good of others. (Whether they deserve it or not is not the issue at all, for we don’t deserve our Christ’s love or salvation either – not one of us.)

Surprisingly, his disciples still don’t get it. They are blind. In fact, Luke says so in three ways. (There’s that number three again, a symbol of divine fullness and completion in Jewish numerology.) The three phrases describing the disciples blindness drive Luke’s point home for us as if they are three nails being pounded into Jesus’ two hands and feet: “They understood nothing…it was hidden from them…they did not grasp what was said to them.” These three descriptions of Jesus’ followers are somewhat ironic, for you might recall Jesus’ visit to a synagogue where he first preached. It was among his earliest words spoken as reported by Luke.

Remember? Jesus took a scroll and read from Isaiah (Isa. 61): “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Along with other promises of the prophets, this passage revealed the essence of Jesus and his purpose among us. Jesus has come to save and to heal…to seek out the lost, forgotten and suffering…for those that are blind. As we prepare for Jesus’ Palm Sunday entrance to Jerusalem, today’s stories where he heals the literally and figuratively blind serve almost like a bookend to his reading from Isaiah as he began his public mission.

This time, Jesus will embody Isaiah’s promises. Just outside of Jericho, an unnamed blind man demands healing. “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Son of David was a traditional, prophetic title anticipated for the Messiah. And Jesus hearing the beggar stops…and Jesus heals. Yet, it is almost a non-miracle miracle. There’s no grand pronouncement or discourse. There’s no mumbo jumbo like a magician or any concrete action on Jesus’ part. No one is touched. No, he simply declares, “Receive your sight; your faith has saved you.” The man saw Jesus for who he was with the Spirit’s help, with the gift of faith…of trust in Jesus. Then, that’s when healing happened. A new life for this culturally and religiously marginalized man began.

And as Jesus finally enters Jericho, we meet the beloved Zacchaeus made popular in the children’s song. And if you have been to VBS, you likely recall that he’s a rich but wee little man. Certainly, he was short, but he was also little esteemed by his neighbors because of the way he lived. He was short in stature and status – a traitor working for Rome, a cheat as tax collectors of this days often were, and despised and hated as a sinner. Yet, Zacchaeus had come to a point of spiritual poverty too. As a chief tax collector, a Jew turned chief oppressor to his people…a neighbor who stole from and cheated others…a person who lived for himself first… he died a bit more each day inside from his sin. Zacchaeus was blind in a different way than the first man, yet blind, nonetheless. And hearing of Jesus, he appears at some level to understand who Jesus was. He felt a need for Jesus and healing, and the Spirit drew him toward Jesus.

And so, hoping against hope, Zacchaeus climbs a tree to just catch a glimpse of Jesus…Perhaps, he’s much like the woman who weeks ago we heard desired to just touch the hem of Jesus’ garments and be healed. Jesus saw Zacchaeus in his hunger and hope, way up, hidden in the tree, and before Zacheus even had the chance to ask for it, Jesus declared Zacchaeus’ healed. “I must stay at your house today.” That’s joyfully what Jesus said. It is what Jesus does. It is who he is. He welcomes people into relationships with him and forgives them. As the Pharisees and others so often grumble and accuse, Jesus enjoys being the guest of sinners. Jesus is not ashamed to be seen with them, for he has come to find, and to heal, and to save them…to save us.

This encounter between Jesus and Zacchaeus reminds me of a scene reported by Matthew 8 where a centurion says, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof (to be my guest), but only say the word, and my servant will be healed.” Now in this story, another similar non-miracle miracle has happened with Zaccheus…no pretense…no show…just blindly trusting in who Jesus is with his heart. Through that gift of trust, Jesus heals Zacchaeus’ spiritual blindness. Knowing his hunger Knowing his need. He is not worthy to receive Jesus under his roof or in his heart, yet Jesus doesn’t stand for that. He comes to him anyway.

In response, Zacchaeus is so emotionally and spiritually touched, he says that he will make amends for what he has done beyond that called for by the laws of Moses. He’s going to be more generous than necessary. And yet note that he is forgiven before he ever, ever, ever makes a commitment to any penance. He’s making amends…his desire to love others and make things right…it is a response to his being loved first. (Just as in 1 John 4:19, we, are to love because God in Jesus loved us first.)

Jesus affirms Zacchaeus and his own purpose by saying, “Today salvation has come to this house, because [Zacchaeus] too is a son of Abraham.” Abandoned by the Jewish community…left outside the family of Abraham as far as they are concerned, Zacchaeus seems like a hopeless case. Yet Jesus has fulfilled God the Father’s promise to Abraham and his descendants (see Genesis 12:1-3 and Genesis 17) that his children would be heirs to God’s love forever. Never forgotten. Never alone. Never abandoned. This is just as Jesus will remember and fulfill his promises to us who believe…who trust him.  

Yes, whatever our blindness…whatever our own poverty and need…Jesus knows it before we even ask. (We cannot hide our sin from Jesus. We cannot hide our needs. He knows!) In the blindness of the disciples…in the blindness of the beggar or Zacchaeus…in the blindness of our own sin…Jesus’ journey was and remains about his seeking out and saving the lost. Healing the blind was one of the great Messianic miracles forecasted, predicted, promised in Isaiah. And, it proves the final miracles that Jesus will perform before he enters Jerusalem for the last time.

The beggar and Zacchaeus had no right to expect anything, and yet Jesus knew of their need and responded in love. He reflected the great and profound Jewish virtue of hesed.  It is a hard to define word as it incorporates an ongoing love, mercy, grace and kindness…the love of God. It is a quality that moves someone to act for the sake of the other…not expecting anything in return…not considering what is in it for them. It is a love reflecting how God loves His people genuinely, immutably, loyally, generously. It is what Jesus shows in his life. It is who Jesus is. It is the love that we are called to share in his name in our families, other relationships, and as we participate in the political and unfair and “real” world that’s around us. We are to seek to love for Love’s sake…God’s sake….For, God is only love (1 John 4:8).

 Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week. We are invited to walk with Jesus in remembrance as he travels within the city of Jerusalem and accepts his cross. It is a time within our liturgical year which challenges us to understand Jesus better…to look beyond our own sin and suffering to try to grasp onto his own purpose….his passion for us and our world…his grace. It is another opportunity to invite Jesus under our roof and into our hearts again, so that by his word we may be healed. Then, we are to go into the world to love, serve, care and reconcile in thanksgiving for this gift.

“Come down,” Jesus tells each of us, “Follow me. I have a surprise for you. Salvation has come to your house. I want to dine with you, because I love you. Will you let me in?….Will you trust me that I won’t lie to you?” Through trusting in and sharing that perfect hesed which is Jesus…a new journey may begin for us where we seek to follow his example…But following Christ’s own example, he asks us to also to look beyond our household, and our congregations, and our human borders – interpersonal, cultural, racial, geographical, political, whatever borders you want to define! “Go beyond them,” he says, “I want to call all people to myself” (John 12:32). We are not to be like the grumbling scribes and pharisees judging people as fallen too far. We are to look for the poor, the captive, the blind, the oppressed, and the lost that are all around us…to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor (echoing Jesus’ own words). We are to do so in his holy name as a joyful penance, as amends…not to gain anything, but as a thank you. For we are why he died…and it is through his death and rising, he has gifted us eternal life with him. Amen.

If you would like to hear my sermon or watch our service, the video can be found below. The Gospel text and sermon begins at about the 18:22 minute mark. The preaching text is Luke 18:31—19:10.

Unless otherwise indicated, all scripture quotations for this post are from the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition (NRSVue) translation.

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 25, 2025 · 6:09 pm

Happy National Peacock Day, Sinner!

Icon of St. Dismas – Note the Peacock.

Happy National Peacock Day! Oh, you did not know that National Peacock Day was a thing? Well, it is. While a quick Google search indicates that there is no official, widely recognized “National Peacock Day” designated by any government or organization, Upper Iowa University (UIU) uses March 25th as a day to celebrate its mascot, the Peacock, as part of their UIU Giving Days. You will find that zoos and arboretums have also signed onto the practice. So, it seems that this national day is just coincidentally placed on a day when Christians might want to celebrate the symbolism of this beautiful bird too. You see, today is when the Church marks both the Annunciation of Mary and the unnamed thief of Luke’s Gospel forgiven on the cross beside Jesus (Luke 23:39-43). The celebrations are set on the liturgical calendar as the day that Jesus came into the world within Mary’s womb and also the day that he died.

How and why is this? Jesus came into the world to suffer, die, and rise for our sins. He called for people to repent and hear the Good News throughout his ministry. So theologically, it appears quite beautiful to keep this connection – Jesus came into Mary’s womb to save sinners and bring abundant, eternal life through the cross. Yet really, it likely has much more to do with how the early Church understood salvation history and the world itself.

Looking at existing Jewish beliefs about the date for creation being on March 25, perhaps that itself being influenced by the timing of the spring equinox, Christians of the Middle Ages for unclear reasons came to agree that March 25 was the date on which creation began. It was also to become the date on which Christ was crucified. Among those earlier movers and shakers influencing this discernment process, you will find Tertullian, a 2nd-century theologian who suggested that Jesus’ death on the 24th of the Hebrew month Nisan (the day of the crucifixion in the Gospel of John) corresponded to March 25th in the Roman calendar, and Augustine of Hippo in his treatise “On the Trinity.” It seems a popular day, for ancient martyrologies also assigned the fall of Lucifer, the passing of Israel through the Red Sea, and the binding of Isaac to March 25.

If Jesus entered Mary’s womb on March 25, it made sense that Christmas be set on the liturgical calendar nine months later, December 25. (This is the real reason Christmas is remembered on that date, not simply to usurp pagan holidays.) Thus, the doctrines of creation, incarnation, and redemption were brought together as one through this liturgical remembrance, although the Bible never gives us a firm date for any of these events. In fact, scholars even debate over the year of Christ’s birth. The Bible is quiet on specifics. Yet with this important connection being made by the Church, March 25 was subsequently observed as New Year’s Day in much of Christian Europe. The Gregorian calendar, introduced by Pope Gregory XIII only made January 1 the universally recognized New Year’s Day in 1582. The United Kingdom, along with its colonies, was the last hold out to switch from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar In 1752. (They likely resisted looking like Papists, but economics and other influences convinced them to finally change.)

So why peacocks? Where do they come into our tale? They were commonly used in the Greco-Roman world for decoration. Peacocks symbolized royalty, beauty, and immortality. People of that time associated “the eyes” on a tail of the peacock with the goddess Hera (Juno). She had a hundred-eyed giant for a guardian, Argus or Argos Panoptes. Eventually slayed by Hermes on Zeus’s orders, his eyes were said to have then been incorporated into the peacock’s tail by Hera in his honor.

Now, flash forward to early Christendom. Augustine of Hippo referred to a meal shared in his famous work, The City of God, where peacock, a delicacy of the time, was served. He reports that after taking a large slice of its breast,  he “ordered it to be kept, and when it had been kept as many days as make any other flesh stinking, it was produced and set before me, and emitted no offensive smell. And after it had been laid by for thirty days and more, it was still in the same state; and a year after, the same still, except that it was a little more shriveled, and drier. (Book XXI, ch. 4).[i] This further supported the already existent cultural belief that the peacock was incorruptible and a sign of eternity.

Over time, peacocks became a common symbol for Christians. Peacocks with a floral motif alluded to the bounty of God’s creation in icons about creation. It also could signify immortality and Christian resurrection. The peacock portrayed drinking from a vase came to symbolize drinking the waters of eternal life – a baptismal motif. With those symbolic connections, you find peacocks in many icons about paradise and eternal life, as well as on ancient baptismal fonts, liturgical furnishings and architecture, and even tombs.

As the Penitent Thief is recorded in Luke pleading, “Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom!” Jesus answers, “Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” This theologically and symbolically forges links between creation’s Paradise, the promise of eternal life in Paradise through the gift of our faith and baptism (available only because of Jesus’ death and resurrection), and the restoration of our fallen world with Jesus’s Second Coming.

The man who died beside Jesus found Paradise through trusting in Jesus, fully human and fully divine, dying unjustly for us all. Thus, he is often depicted with a peacock in his iconography. The guilty one who turns toward Jesus in hope is not named in scripture, and people from the Greek and context interpret him as a rebel, thief, and ultimately repentant sinner – none of these roles being mutually exclusive. Yet if you see a man with a peacock in icons, it’s likely there to help identify Adam or the one who was forgiven from the cross.

Over time, the man was given names by the Church. He’s called Dismas (this may have been adapted from a Greek word meaning “dying”) in the West. He’s called Demas (meaning “popular” or “the people,” stemming from the Greek word “demos”) in Coptic Orthodoxy. In an apocryphal gospel from Syria, he is called Titus (meaning “title of honor” or “honorable”). In Russian Orthodoxy, he became known as Rakh. The name origin is unclear, but one scholar theorizes that the Russian title may have come from a garbled reading of an inscription possibly due to damage of the title of a particular icon type of the Penitent Thief that is called “The Wise/Prudent Thief in Paradise,” written in Cyrillic.[ii]

Perhaps it is best we do not know his name. Much as the peacock symbolizes our eternal destiny through Christ, he can become a symbol for us all. For we, too, can prove to be malefactors, thieves, and rebels in our own way through our sin, yet Jesus will always remember us when we turn to him in trust. The signs, portents, and his own promises points us toward celebrating eternally in Paradise with Jesus – saved sinners, repenting on our way, looking with our own eyes only toward Jesus for our salvation.   


Peacock Sarcophagus, Basilica of San Vitale, Ravenna.
Peacocks look toward a Chi Rho, a symbol for Jesus.
c. 7th Century (Source in references.)

References:

Orthodox Monastery of St. Macarius the Great of Egypt (Saint Macarius OCA). (2024). Wadi El Natrun, Beheira Governorate, Egypt. “Icon of St. Dismas.” Downloaded at https://www.etsy.com/listing/1594726259/handmade-mounted-icon-the-right-hand

Sharon Mollerus, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons. “Peacock Sarcophagus, Basilica of San Vitale, Ravenna (6094775009).jpg as downloaded at https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Peacock_Sarcophagus,_Basilica_of_San_Vitale,_Ravenna_%286094775009%29.jpg.

Robel, S., Peyton, R., Kramer, M., and Jackson, B. Christian Symbols in Art Blog, as downloaded at https://christiansymbolsinart.wordpress.com/2014/11/13/peacock/.

Smith, R. (July 2018). “The Peacock as an Early Christian Symbol of Eternal Life.” Russel’s Inspiration Daybook Blog as downloaded at https://inspirationdaybook.wordpress.com/2018/07/23/the-peacock-as-an-early-christian-symbol-of-eternal-life.

Tribe, S. “The Use of the Peacock in Christian Art.” Liturgical Arts Journal. Downloaded at https://www.liturgicalartsjournal.com/2023/11/the-use-of-peacock-in-christian-art.html.

Wikipedia. “Argus Panoptes.” As downloaded at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argus_Panoptes.

Wikipedia. “Penitent Thief.” As downloaded at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Penitent_thief#cite_note-13.

[i] Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, as quoted in Tribe, S. “The Use of the Peacock in Christian Art.” Liturgical Arts Journal. Downloaded at https://www.liturgicalartsjournal.com/2023/11/the-use-of-peacock-in-christian-art.html

[ii] David. (January 14, 2021). “A Seldom Seen Scroll.” Icons and Their Interpretation Blog. Downloaded at https://russianicons.wordpress.com/tag/rakh/

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 23, 2025 · 5:12 pm

Stupid people! All of us. (Sermon)

The “Stunads all of you” t-shirt can be found at Paisano Prints.

Often as we hear the parables of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and what some might also call the parable of the lost son (better known as the Prodigal Son), they might often be broken up and addressed as individual teaching stories. Yet the Narrative Lectionary (our assigned readings) that we are using right now intentionally challenges us to look at them differently. How might we see something new or hear something different if these parables are lumped together?

The lost sheep, the lost coin, the lost son…just naming the parables in that way starts us to see a sacred thread of meaning woven within them. The lead up to this “unit” of scripture is Jesus with his face set toward Jerusalem. He is going there to suffer and die for all people…all people…to draw them to himself. As he goes, he heals people, dines with others, and this all becomes a time for teaching. He speaks to crowds again and again as they follow him as well as smaller groups around tables, banquets of sorts in his honor. Most often, he does so in parables or teaching stories.

Often these three stories are interpreted in a very personal, grace-filled way. We see ourselves as sinners struggling, and our Savior, the Light of the world, comes to us as the lost sheep, lost coin, or lost son in our darkness. And that’s a true and worthy interpretation. We are all sinners, some historically on a grander scale than others, but all of us are addicted to sin. We cannot help ourselves, and all sin separates us from the love of God, one another, and even the “true self” (the person) that God hopes for us to become. We need salvation! We need a savior to find us and bring us home.

I know this is a very common interpretation from the many commentaries that I have read, but also the personal stories that I have heard shared at Bible studies over the years. And even as a young person, someone who felt like an outsider, I often related well to this understanding of the stories. For it remains true, that God loves us and was willing to do anything for us, even die on a cross, so that we might come to understand and live in that love that’s being offered us. God’s greatest treasure is you, and you have been sought out, and waited for patiently, and run too to be embraced, so that you and all who believe might come to understand this great, sacred, life-giving love is for us.

Still, these are parables, right? These are a teaching method of Christ’s time meant to challenge the student, inviting us to wrestle. There’s no one meaning to a parable…not necessarily one best meaning. It can speak to us over and over again as we move forward in life and learning. So this morning, I want to suggest that we might like to look at the placement of this story more closely as a start.

Before today’s scene, Jesus has just spoken about humility and hospitality. These are meant to be great Christian virtues and an ongoing, embodied attitude in our daily lives. He then shares a parable of a great banquet. The invited guests made excuses – concerns about wealth, property, and family – and they refused to come. So, more are invited that do come, but there is still room. So, the master says to the slave, “Go out into the roads and lanes, and compel people to come in, so that my house may be filled” (Luke 14:15-24).

Then, Jesus speaks once again about the cost of discipleship. “Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.” He has mentioned such things before in Luke, but here it is a bit different. Taking up the cross requires all kinds of sacrifices and costs, not just literal death. He’s asking the crowds if they are ready to give up all they possess – family, friends, wealth, reputation – to do what is right and follow him. Yes, we might even have to give up our long-held expectations and assumptions about others who Jesus is calling…even those who might be our traditional enemies. That’s a kind of surrender too, a cross bearing of sorts.

And then we come to yet another dinner, today’s passage. Who gathers near to him? It is the tax collectors and sinners. They gather near while the Pharisees and scribes are stand offish. “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them,” that’s what the proud grumble. There’s that theme again – invitation, hospitality, giving up predispositions and long held expectation in order to welcome others. Ahh, now that gives us something to think about. What if we are not just the lost, but also like the Pharisees and scribes in these stories?

In the parable of the lost sheep, the shepherd abandons everything to seek out the lost one. In the parable of the lost coin, the woman does everything to seek for her treasure – little though it might seem. In the parable of the lost son, it is true the father waits for his son’s return, loving him from afar as the son wonders aimlessly. Yet, the father sees him approaching home because he never stopped looking for him to come home. With every glimpse at the horizon, the father would wonder where his son was and actively, hopefully scanned for his return. And what about the faithful son – the son who served seemingly without much thanks (at least in his own mind)? He has no room for welcome in his heart. He cannot even call the other man his brother. He says, “That’s your son…that son of yours…nothing to do with me.” He is too concerned about himself and his own status when he should see that his brother’s needs just might be greater than his own.

Now if we reflect, we’ve seen such stubbornness before in others in scriptural passages. We might sometimes see it in ourselves. You might know that on March 19th, it was St. Joseph’s Day, a traditional Italian celebration like St. Patrick’s Day, but a lot more pastry. I’m part Italian, so on that day, I saw an advertisement on social media targeting me. I saw a t-shirt for sale that had Jesus looking downward in sadness and beneath him were the words, “Stunads, all of you.” Stunads is an Italian American phrase (slang) that means “stupid.” “Stupid people, all of you!” Jesus on the t-shirt is perhaps with disbelief, saying, “Stupid, all of you.” Jesus in sadness, frustration, and dismay is confessing on that t-shirt that he is disappointed with us. We’ve let him down. It is an Italian American company that makes that shirt, but perhaps they are secretly Lutheran or Calvinist. For we, too, are supposed to recognize that we are stupid. We are selfish and we sin because we don’t see the big picture. We need help for that, forgiveness for that.

It might be shocking to some to see such an image and read those words, but this is not much different than John the Baptist. Remember what he called those who should know better but are resistant to his invitation and judgmental of others? He calls them a brood of vipers. It is reminiscent of Jesus own frequent words of grief, “you of little faith.” “You’ve disappointed me.” Humans have been stiff necked and tribal since before God said to Moses, “Go and tell the children of Israel that they are stiff necked people”…In Hebrew, that means they are haughty, stubborn, obstinate, churlish, severe, hard hearted, and harsh. We are stunads…stupid people bent inward upon ourselves as Luther says…lost in our depravity as Calvin says…always, always, we are bondage to sin…Sin impacts our decisions and the way we look at others in the world, and we need help. We are stupid and blind in our sin; thinking we are better and more self-sufficient than we are.

At about that same time, a friend of mine came across a quote from Penn Jillette, of the popular magicians, Penn and Teller. He is a well-known atheist who reflected upon someone’s attempt to share about Jesus with him. Penn insisted that he was not upset. He was touched. He said, “If you believe there is a heaven and hell, and you think it’s not worth telling someone about it because it would make it socially awkward, how much do you have to hate [that person] to not proselytize?” If this is true, than why are you hiding this truth from others. “To believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell people?” he asks, “This man cared enough about me to proselytize.” And that touched his heart.

My friend reading these words felt convicted, and although not a pastor or priest or church leader of any kind, he mustered these deep and meaningful words of faith, a confession and a hope: “This hits hard. I’m reminded of opportunities I’ve had to speak on this issue and passed. Because I’m all too aware of my own failures. But it’s not about me. It’s about Jesus. Who is the Son of God. Who died for our sins and rose again. There will one day be judgement for our choice of accepting Jesus or not.”

What if through such parables Jesus is speaking to both the believing sinner and the Pharisee that’s within each of us – the imperfect saint and overconfident, judgmental sinner? Within scripture, we see some Pharisees and other religious leaders rebuked because they judge. In their mind, the sinner is too far gone. They’ve lost any value. They aren’t worth seeking for, nor talking too. They are a little bit concerned about their reputation as well. In the light of Jesus’ teaching and actions what an immense failure. Stunads…stupid people.

My friend saw his failure…owned it…but he knew that grace meant it was not too late to give that sin to Jesus, receive forgiveness, and share the story of Jesus as best as he could…no theology degree…despite concerns for what others might say…but only shared because at some level he knew he was a sinner too. And, that grace helped him. Who better to speak of Christ’s love and salvation than one who knows his grace intimately…even when they might not understand it perfectly in its mechanics. (We will someday when we see Jesus face to face, but we don’t right now.)

God’s love, justice, and righteousness is so very different from the world’s. A small thing, a simple person can bring great joy to God. A child can speak with deep and divine wisdom. Meanwhile, the world looks for bells and whistles, and entertainment, huge miracles, and happy, shiny, seemingly perfect people to lead them. In arrogance, they can look at the small, simple, messy, and childlike as fools without worth. That aren’t worthy of going after…or looking for…or talking to. There’s a tension here. Something’s wrong, and it is called sin.

A favorite author of mine, Philip Yancey, once wrote, “Life is not fair, but God’s grace is not fair either.” We are asked by Jesus to not get in the way of those who wish to come near to him and listen. Better yet, we are to look for those outside the Church – those struggling, filled with doubt and questions, alone, forgotten, or perhaps strange to us in other ways…yet invite them to the banquet to experience Christ’s love and forgiveness without delay. After all, it is not really our love and forgiveness. It was gifted to us underserved and for free when Jesus died and rose again for our sake and the sake of all people. Amen.

If you would like to hear my sermon or watch our service, the video can be found below. The Gospel text and sermon begins at about the 17 minute mark. The preaching text is Luke 15:1-32.

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 21, 2025 · 8:00 am

Do you not perceive it? God’s in the small stuff.

Photo by the author (May 20, 2025)

There were abundant signs of hope and new life this morning as Boomer and I took our walk – a beautiful sunrise, the repetitive knock of a woodpecker feeding in the nearby woods, blue birds galore swirling all around us, a mockingbird performing its twirling mating dance and song from a roof top, and cherry tree blooms bursting forth. As you go through your day, I hope you keep your eyes open for beauty and small signs of hope. They are sustaining because God is there – in the small stuff.

As bad or challenging as one’s life can seem at times, God’s always at work creating and blessing, among the too often overlooked, weak, forgotten or small. Thus, you are never alone or unloved, no matter how small and powerless you feel, for God’s at work in and through you and your circumstances, too.

Happy Spring, friends! Trust in the loving promises of God.

Isaiah 43:19 – “Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?”

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 21, 2025 · 3:11 am

Trying to live with decency and nobility: Why I signed the open letter to VMI’s Board of Visitors

Jonathan Daniels while a cadet at
the Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, VA

Jonathan Myrick Daniels, Virginia Military Institute (VMI) Class of 1961, was born on March 20, 1939 in Keene, New Hampshire – eighty-six years ago today. He was the valedictorian of his graduating class. In his valedictorian speech, he ended by saying, “I wish you the decency and nobility of which you are capable.” This ultimately remains a challenge to us all no matter our faith, school, or political party. We need more decency and nobility right now in our nation.

Living this ideal out, Jonathan ultimately joined the ranks of those fighting for Civil Rights while an Episcopal seminarian. He was subsequently killed sacrificing his own life to protect Ruby Sales, an African American teen at the time. He was shot by an off duty, part time sheriff’s deputy, a member of the KKK, in Hayneville, Alabama (“Bloody Lowndes County”) on August 20, 1965. Upon learning of Daniels’ murder, Martin Luther King Jr. stated that “one of the most heroic Christian deeds of which I have heard in my entire ministry was performed by Jonathan Daniels.” In 1991, Jonathan was also designated as a martyr on the Episcopal Church’s liturgical calendar.

Recently, the first African American Superintendent of VMI, Major General Cedric T. Wins, did not have his contract renewed. He and many others think it is ultimately related to bias and racism, a hatred of DEI, and other political factors rather than his job performance as evident across multiple measures. Some concerned alumni started an online open letter to the VMI Board of Visitors demanding some transparency and accountability.

The letter can be signed by VMI alumni and any friends of (persons concerned about) VMI. If you’d like to sign it or read more about this effort, visit In Alma Mater’ Name. In Alma Mater’s Name is a nonpartisan, non-political community dedicated to preserving the traditions, values, and excellence of the Virginia Military Institute. At their site, one can read the open letter, see the signers, sign it yourself, and learn about or track this issue through their page. As of now, there are over 1000 signatories to the open letter. In a sense, the letter questions the decency and nobility of the board’s decision.

I first learned of Jonathan Daniels when a cadet at VMI (1982-1986). I would occasionally study in the English majors library, “the Daniels’ Den,” in Scott Shipp Hall (the liberal arts building). He would in time become an inspiration for my own path. I have reason to suspect what happened to General Wins was not ultimately the “decent” thing to do. I, too, believe his tenure was likely conflated with hatred of the reported excesses that can come with DEI or any modern political agenda – at least in some people’s minds. For example, I saw that one alumnus posted on social media that General Wins himself was a DEI hire. Others joked openly of his tenure’s demise. I find this kind of talk an insult to his reputation, honor, and all that he accomplished in the United States Army. I admire the many challenges he overcame while serving at VMI. I suspect but cannot know that he faced harsher words in his tenure from some alumni or citizens of Virginia upset over DEI, Confederate iconography being removed, and pandemic policies, all a reflection of our brokenness in society today.

I know of General Wins from my time at VMI as a fellow cadet. He seems a decent, capable, intelligent human being deserving more respect even if one disagrees with any policies or actions. I recall that alumni widely posted their pride and high hopes as he was appointed. The General did what he was asked by the Governor (a Democrat at the time and an alumnus), and the General performed well despite the pandemic and lots of anger generated as he sought to make VMI more welcoming to all. Some vocal alumni seemed to argue nothing was amiss. They grew angrier with every change. Acclaim from some turned to open derision. Sadly, this politicization of education, stated General Wins in a recent Roanoke Times article, has pitted cadets, staff, and alumni against one another “creating a toxic organizational culture.” This hurts everyone.

The Board of Visitors’ vote to decline offering a contract reportedly reflected the preponderance of board members appointed by Governor Youngkin (R), some added just before the vote. (I’ve read that two of his appointees voted in favor of extending a contract.) That the vote occurred as Black History Month ended seems a bit tone deaf and insensitive on its face. As already considered among the most expensive colleges per student in Virginia, one can probably expect Democrats in the House of Delegates to respond negatively as others suggest. I’d suspect some young women and minority prospects might opt to apply elsewhere in this uncertain and contentious environment. Certainly, if anecdotally, it seems many outside of the VMI community are judging VMI harshly for this move from what I see on social media and in news reports. Based on what I know from my relationship with VMI, a response is likely warranted especially if more positive change is to come. Yet, don’t be surprised if some argue to close the school. That’s come up in the past as far back as the 1920s for varied reasons.

Supporters of VMI often claim, “VMI is good.” Certainly, it was very good for me. I still recommend the school almost forty years after graduation. There are many great, generous and loving leaders that were molded at VMI now serving in all walks of life. Yet as a First Class Cadet (Senior), I had to stop a Third Class Cadet (Sophomore) from passing around virulent anti-Roman Catholic tracks and comic books. (I was Roman Catholic at the time and President of the Newman Club as well as President of the interfaith Religious Council.) It was out of ignorance, and he repented. I forgave him, and we moved on.

In town, the KKK posted flyers against minorities while I was a cadet. Their wild accusations against others included Roman Catholics. (Among the more ludicrous claims was that the Pope was plotting to take over the post office.) I also overheard upperclassmen jokingly talking about Roman Catholics as “Fish Eaters” while a cadet. I never heard that before or since, but I interpreted it as idiotic bias. I heard people openly and often say Roman Catholics were not Christians. I had Jewish cadets share similar frustrations. They felt uncomfortable and misunderstood in the very overtly Evangelical and often pushy conservative Christian culture present at VMI at the time. Intentionally or not, the welcome mat didn’t always seem out. I have other stories too from my time as a cadet. (As a graduate, I have heard other more recent concerns, but only second hand. These Jewish cadets – now alumni – would have to come forward to share their stories, but I was told that they hesitated out of fear of repercussions.)

I want to note that the chaplain at the time, Col, Charles Caudill, worked hard to address such issues – to build both understanding and community. The chaplain office’s Religious Council actively sought out diverse membership under his watch. I always trusted I could go to him to talk honestly about life in the Corps, even when we disagreed over things at times, and the Religious Council ultimately brought cadets of diverse faith together to help facilitate all religious life. Many members also became my friends.

Unfortunately outside of religious bias, I’m also aware of a few felonies (properly adjudicated thankfully) being committed by cadets on occasion – some very serious. I know some later female graduates who have claimed to experience bias and overt abuse. And, also since my cadetship, I’ve heard alumni concerned at times that the Honor Court might be unfairly targeting people – often athletes and thus often minorities. A report suggested just that in 2021. Then within its adversative system, one which helped me grow as a leader, there’s always a tension over what is placing pressure on cadets to push to their limits often while under great stress and what is hazing. It was debated then, and I expect it is debated now. Even the modern US military struggles with this issue, so I don’t think that’s a surprise. Although, I hear there are many more controls, limitations, and safety protocols in place today at VMI to make what’s called the Rat Line safer. (It’s also a shorter duration than when I was a cadet.)

My African American peers never spoke to me about racism and bias when I was a cadet at VMI (no real surprise considering the culture of the time), but some have been more willing to talk in recent years. If they say they faced discomfort, a lack of welcoming, or more overt negative treatment, I’m going to listen to them; not deny everything off the cuff. These are people I respect and trust. I have no reason to doubt them. I’d encourage other alumni to speak to past minority and female cadets that they know. I suspect some people might now share stories.

Certainly, most minority cadets of my time were not keen on saluting Jackson’s statue, a requirement for new cadets at the time. Many likely bristled to answer the common question asked of first year students called Rats, “Who won the Civil War?” The demanded answer was, “VMI with the help of the South.” My First Class mentor when I was a Rat, also from Massachusetts, insisted instead that I answer, “The United States of America, Sir.” That earned me a lot of push ups, but I wouldn’t call my treatment abusive. It was annoying though. How much more annoying for my minority classmates? Only they can say or truly know. I never shared that experience or context as a white cadet.

So, although I usually prefer writing my own advocacy letters, and I’ve only signed one other group letter before (with other Richmond pastors against racism as self-identified KKK, Proud Boys, and Neo-Confederate members began to make appearances as the Robert E. Lee statue’s future was debated), I’ve signed the letter mentioned above. I expect some of my classmates and VMI contemporaries might not fully understand why.

Yes, VMI is much more good than bad. It’s the same school that nurtured George C. Marshall and Jonathan Daniels for a start. (I’ve not sought to share that much longer, more comprehensive, positive history here. There are many sources you can find for yourself if interested.) Yet, it’s always been a school comprised of imperfect humans – some very imperfect. There have been bad things that have happened and still likely could happen as on any campus. Yet this all leads me to say, “VMI is good, but it always can be better. So can I. So can we all.” Recognizing VMI has growing edges is not a betrayal of the school or its alumni. In fact, I am writing this blog post because I care about its cadets, faculty and staff, and all its alumni, along with its ongoing legacy.

If I had more influence, I’d like to see more interpretive signage across campus and cadet led history projects (perhaps even a podcast) on the past wrongs at VMI just like Mount Vernon has done – particularly on slavery, the context and VMI’s part defending that horror. I’d like to see more focus on women’s rights and other hot button issues, not to indoctrinate, but so that cadets can learn to agree or disagree on sound principles rather than assumptions or feelings. I’d like more history and ethics courses wrestling with these issues and to provide cadets with the broadest experiences possible across genders, cultures, and religions affiliations, and yes, that means humanist secularism too. They would be better able to engage with the world with more decency, empathy, and compassion. I suspect they would prove wiser too. One can be book smart yet very unwise.

The Institute seems much better in academics, military training, studying abroad, and in addressing such tender subjects as above than when I was there. Our culture as a whole in the US has improved in its treatment of racial, ethnic or religious minorities, women, and others, although it might not always feel like it. (This is supported by many research markers, but sadly, this, too could be regressing.) Yet many of the recent improvements at VMI have been because of the influence of General Wins along with dedicated faculty and staff who want cadets ready for a multicultural world. I’d hate to see VMI move backwards. So, if not DEI, what other efforts can be made? We shouldn’t be afraid to say that it’s not a perfect place.

My signature on the open letter only represents me, no other organization, nonprofit, or my congregation. Yet, I think transparency and accountability is not a big or controversial ask. I remain hopeful VMI will continue to evolve and excel. Even with all I’ve shared above, again, I know there’s much more good. I can honestly sing with other alumni the old school song ending, “God bless our team and VMI.” I’m hoping and praying that we all are always capable of greater decency and nobility by God’s help.

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 10, 2025 · 2:15 pm

My “Pilgrimage of Trust” continues

Image: The Paris European Meeting (1994), (c) Taizé.

Thirty years ago (as of December 26, 2024 through January 1, 2025), I served at and attended my first European Meeting in Paris as “a permanent” (long-term volunteer) with the Brothers of Taizé. “100,000 Youths Invade Paris for Prayer” was the New York Times headline. “Spurred by an ideal that helped undermine communism in Eastern Europe, more than 100,000 young people have poured into Paris for a five-day prayer marathon.”

A number of volunteers had been working all year long helping to prepare the site (Porte de Versailles) and coordinating with local congregations and families to help receive the many young adult pilgrims. At these meetings, visitors live with local families or congregations to help deepen the relationships built and foster greater reconciliation and unity among the people of varied nations and denominations represented. The opening of the Iron Curtain after communism facilitated many coming from the East for the first time.

Just a couple of weeks before the meeting, a few thousand people still needed housing. I was invited to be with Brother Roger and the younger brothers for a song practice in their home when he spoke of the news. He shrugged his shoulders at this challenge and said in French, “God will provide.” It was among many of the lessons learned while I lived with them; challenging me to radically trust God. And of course, God did provide. As some friends from that time reminded when previously reminiscing, the provision was through the willing hearts and sweat of many – people risking the opening of their homes, and many volunteers and locals churches working long and hard to identify and prepare a welcome of young adults from across Europe primarily, but also the world. Hospitality remains a too often overlooked but important, ancient mark of the Church, but it can prove more difficult when at such a large scale.

At the event, I was assigned to work under Br. Ulrich (originally from Germany) distributing food. I helped oversee three of the large feeding stations which served lunch and dinner to these multitudes – more than 25k people at each area for each meal. (I was told that approximately 110,000 in total attended the event.) It was up early before dawn and in bed after midnight each day. My teams and I were outside in the elements for most of the day. I felt a bit like I was back in the Army, especially as among the food items many NATO surplus meals were served. Each food item had its place in multiple serving lines – bread, fruit, cheese, main course. As stockpiles grew smaller, they were replaced quickly. I became expert at driving a forklift. It wasn’t the Feeding of the 5,000, but it was miraculous in its own way. People cooperated well despite the use of varied languages. Volunteers and those served were for the most part patient and joyful.

The positive spirit of the event spread throughout our work, but it proved fatiguing nonetheless. With multiple languages and abilities, it could indeed be challenging. So, I along with other volunteers there from Taize’ tried to keep the pilgrims assigned to help us in brighter spirits. I taught many the poem Fuzzy Wuzzy was a Bear. Or as it rained, I shared the song, “It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring,” along with other silly things – new to them, often as I said, people who knew little or no English. As young adults, many were keen to have fun but also learn or improve their English. Humor helped pass the time, and just as I survived many an Army field exercise with laughter, humor played well at the European Meeting too. I learned about 26 ways to say the word “cheese” as we served meals that week. Taizé is famous for its musical chants, and this ode to cheese almost became a chant on its own repeating the list in a sing-song voice: “cheese, fromage, formagio, queijo, queso, ost, ser, syr…”

True, I did get to see Paris a bit during the wonderful season of Christmas to include walking up the Eiffel Tower or visiting Notre Dame and the Champs de Lycee, but this trip was primarily about service. Yet, there was much joy and many new friendships made too. I became friends with a young woman from Germany who hated her “old fashioned” name, Cordelia. She liked American names, she said. So, I dubbed her Joe. I recall my friend, Petr, who spoke long and lovingly on a metro ride about the superior virtues of Czech chocolate, “the best chocolate in the world,” after tasting some French chocolate. Walking down the street one night with new friends from Lithuania and Poland, the Lithuanian man had to translate my English to the Polish woman in English because she could not understand my accent. She said it sounded like “waw waw waw.” I sounded a bit like Charlie Brown’s teacher if I comprehended correctly, but I understood them both! And what a splendid Feierabend, a phrase a German volunteer taught me for “quitting time,” as we watched New Year’s Eve fireworks explode over the Eiffel Tower from our warehouse rooftop as we closed up services. There are so many memories of wonderful people and conversations.

Unfortunately, the realities of the world were seen too. I noted a greatly increased police presence as the program neared completion. I learned later that a terrorist threat had come in, but – praise the Lord – nothing occurred and everyone had a safe time. If you know the more recent history of France, you know there have been significant, successful attacks since then. I’ve been told that since my time there, there’s a constant police presence on the hill of Taizé now because of increased threats. That saddens me even as I understand the need.

My week in Paris fell only a few weeks after my arrival in France, and it helped shape all that came after. It was a transformative experience for many including me. The managers of Porte de Versailles remarked with great amazement at how little trouble there had been, how friendly people were, and that the facilities and property were left cleaner than before we came. (Pilgrims had helped throughout including the cleanup.) Before the age of email, people left for home with new friends’ addresses and hope for the future. I learned more of what the Church could be, even amidst disagreements, and how peace could be made manifest most simply and beautifully between individuals.

Like most, I definitely left with deeper faith than I had come with, and I still ponder the miracles that are the European Meetings hosted by Taizé. This Paris encounter was the 17th annual meeting for young people organized by the community and was also at that time the biggest. As reported in the earlier cited article, “Organizers turned four austere halls at a Paris exhibition center into copies of the main church at Taizé, with saffron- colored drapes and icons glittering in the light of hundreds of candles.” Yet what makes the meeting is the people and the Holy Spirit, not the spaces.

Each year, the formal meeting is held in a different European city from December 28 through January 1. It’s not usually as big, but I suspect each one is profound in its own way. I’ve only been to one other meeting (Barcelona, 2000), but amidst the divisions of today’s world, I recognize the meetings’ sacredness. It’s import and the import of any efforts like it should not be underestimated. These meetings have the power to change your view of the world and your place in it.

As reported by the BBC, Brother Roger, the community’s founder, shared in Lisbon (2004) with the young people present, “If we are at present undertaking a pilgrimage of trust on earth with young people from every continent, it is because we are aware of how urgent peace is. We can contribute to peace to the extent that we try to respond to the following question by the life we live: Can I become a bearer of trust where I live? Am I ready to understand others better and better?”

As some governments expect war in the Pacific or a more expansive war in Europe within five years, such efforts nurturing trust in God and others, reconciliation, and peace remain beyond urgent. Perhaps beyond the importance of any treaty, I learned that peace must start with each one of us, today. We must seek to be reconciled with God and one another. For, Christ becomes more visibly present when we do. His joy and hope are experienced as real.

Yes, the importance of such a pilgrimage never ends. It continues through one’s life.

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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March 7, 2025 · 10:01 pm

Re-clothed in Joy

On March 7, 1992, I cried out to God through the simplest of heartfelt prayers. “God help me! I cannot take this anymore! Just show me the way out of this!” This lament wrapped in tears was uttered during a time of extreme desperation and loss while I walked my dog, Falstaff, late on a quiet, lonely night. It would be answered almost immediately in the most profound, miraculous way. I discovered an unexpected, long ignored door open wider than it ever had before.

As I shouted to heaven, I came to think of past joys that I had experienced through youth groups, college ministry, and faith-filled friendships. These relationships had planted seeds of faith, hope and love, when sometimes as a youth from a troubled home, I could feel unloved and unforgiveable. That’s pretty common thinking when you grow up in an alcoholic family, but for me, it was a realization still hidden amidst family secrets and a lack of understanding. It was all I knew, and I could not see more.

As a young adult facing new wounds as a police officer and after unhealthy relationships and choices, I had become cut off from the Church, and I had lost touch with many who loved me. Yet, as these former faces and spaces came to mind, I felt a strong urge to call someone from that past time. It was a risk. Would the reject me? Laugh at me? Think I was stupid? Yet, it seemed also something I could not resist any longer.

The first person I spoke to diagnosed my problems quickly and gently. I had meant to call a dear, old friend, but his wife answered. As I told her my story, she spoke of things hidden in my heart that I had not yet shared with anyone. Yet, she knew! Unbeknownst to me, she had experience working with people from alcoholic and codependent families, and through that conversation, she lovingly pointed me back to Jesus, his promises for me, and the Church. I got off the phone with a sense of hope I don’t think I ever experienced before.

No, it was not that I didn’t know God before that moment. I can see how my earlier baptism and faith (if immature faith) made a difference. I recognize in hindsight how God often saved me from myself and the snares of this world while planting seeds all along the way. I remain thankful for the many people who tried to love me on my way. Yet, for me, I chalk this up to a similar experience to that described by Jonathan Daniels in his own life. My faith was synthesized. I encountered and understood everything in a new way.

It was most certainly a conversion of sorts, or a radical deepening of relationship, as my heart tore open and God’s Spirit filled my emptiness. The Spirit’s light scattered my darkness, and a deep joy began. I had much still to learn, but I was on my way again – really Christ’s way. Despite the suffering and grief that I would still have to work through, and their were things that I would need to let go of, although it was only a beginning, I knew everything had changed. I had changed. I sensed that I was free.

As I dug into scripture, Gospel truths invited me to trust Christ in a new way and see promises fulfilled springing forth like the lilies of the field all around me. I began to understand that all things – my losses and sin included – would be used for my good (Romans 8). Although I had guilt, I no longer needed to be ashamed. I was forgiven, and I could do better in the future by God’s help. As Christ’s peace grew within me, people even began to see my life and daily attitude change. I became committed to never turning back. More importantly, I came to understand that Jesus would never let me go.

This experience – starting particularly that night in March – has taught me to trust God as I never had before, a trust that I am still learning about today. As humans, we can never know enough or trust enough. Doubts and struggles can remain…do remain to tempt us. Taking advantage of the disciplines of Lent (happening at the time), I was helped into this new start and ongoing sanctification of my life. The gifts of being Church with others has helped me stay on the path since then. So as I think of that time throughout the year, but especially on this date and during Lent, I give great thanks.

Perhaps someday, I will share more details about the experience. I have with some, but for now, I most often use the Psalmist’s words from Psalm 30, my annual “scripture of the day.” I had been ill, lost and blinded in the darkness of my own sin and the powers of this world – dead in a sense. I just had not recognized it. Once I more clearly saw the light, even as I might falter or stumble at times, I have not wanted to go back. I won’t go back. I trust the Lord will help me on my way, and the gift of his joy still growing in me will never die.

Psalm 30 follows (NRSVue translation):

1 I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up
and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
2 O Lord my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3 O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol,
restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
4 Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5 For his anger is but for a moment;
his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
“I shall never be moved.”
7 By your favor, O Lord,
you had established me as a strong mountain;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.
8 To you, O Lord, I cried,
and to the Lord I made supplication:
9 “What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me!
O Lord, be my helper!”
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy,
12 so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.

Amen.

Taizé chant, English translation: Lord Jesus Christ, your light shines within us. Let not my doubts nor my darkness speak to me. Lord Jesus Christ, your light shines within us. Let my heart always welcome your love. (Inspired by the writings of St. Augustine of Hippo.)

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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February 28, 2025 · 7:15 pm

Of Lions, Lambs & Love

Image Used with Permission (c) Clipart.email

Although written in 2020, Lent once again begins the first week of March. This has been popular of late, so I am reposting it. Blessings this Lent and always. PL

Although we have had a mild winter (as I write this), we likely enter March with the old adage, “March comes in like a lion, but goes out like a lamb,” entering our minds. Although not a phrase related to faith, it recently struck me that it very well could serve as one. For this year with March, we have also just entered Lent.

Some people are intimidated by Lent. They don’t want to think about sin and death. Yet as Christians, we should. Jesus came to defeat these dark powers over our lives. Recognizing our need is not only being honest and humble but an opportunity to increase our gratitude.

Lent isn’t just about more sacrifice and activity. It is a chance for us to reflect upon the story of salvation at work in the past and in each day of our lives. We are sinners yet simultaneously saints. Struggling yet free. Dying yet growing in our experience of a new life that will last eternally. Through the grace-filled moments and disciplines of Lent, God helps us grow in our love for God, our neighbor and of ourselves.

The lion which is sin proves a ravenous foe. Its roar is ignored at our peril, but it need not be a roar lasting in our ears or misshaping our lives. For the Lamb of God has come and speaks love to us. A name given Jesus by John the Baptizer, the Lamb of God reflects the sacrificial lamb, an atonement for sin, during the Temple period. The image is so powerful, the meaning so important, the symbol of a lamb carrying a Roman banner of victory became synonymous with Jesus. The Risen Christ has conquered death for us and for all who trust in him. It is the certainty of this truth that inspired Paul to write the church in Rome, “Yet in all these things [all the suffering and struggles of our worldly experience] we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.” We already share his victory, and we can thus walk on in his peace.

The lion and lamb (as I am using them today) remain part of the story of our salvation and always go together. They cannot be separated for they prove both our history and inheritance. No surprise, the lion has thus commonly come to symbolize Christ, both in his suffering and his triumph. Echoing prophecy, the lamb and lion laying together have become a rightful symbol of paradise. It’s both resurrected life and a promised paradise that we will celebrate on Easter. I wish you all the blessings of a fruitful Lent, an experience graciously magnified by our shared Easter joy. Come, Lord Jesus, come!

Originally version published in the March 2020 newsletter of Christ Lutheran Church, Fredericksburg, VA.

© 2020 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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February 27, 2025 · 6:20 pm

Light, light brief candle

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash. Used by permission.

As his official biography reveals, “Hendro Munsterman is a Religion journalist and Vatican correspondent in Italy, The Netherlands, and France. After having studied and taught theology and religious studies at universities in The Netherlands, Switzerland and France, he became a full-time religious journalist and analyst for the national Dutch daily, Nederlands Dagblad.” Yes, he’s a smart cookie, as we might say in the United States, with a heart for God and others. I am also blessed that he is a friend. We served together in France as volunteers with the Ecumenical Community of Taizé in our young adult years.

I’ve enjoyed listening to or reading his reports and ponderings over the years. Yesterday, I came across his Facebook post about a recent television panel he was invited to join. As a “Vatican Watcher,” Hendro was asked to comment on the current Pope’s legacy as his health has recently declined. (For those that have not heard, Pope Francis suffered a polymicrobial infection with subsequent pneumonia in both lungs which forced him to remain in the hospital.) The short clip from the panel discussion got me thinking.

In the clip, Hendro provided some helpful analysis of the current Pope Francis’ legacy. Hendro mentioned how Pope Francis sought to turn the Vatican’s face outward. He is one who wants the Church to go to the people where they are, not wait for others to come to the Church. Pope Francis is a “pope of proximity” where people want to touch him in his approachability, yet he exemplifies the desire for the Church to go into the world and to touch human realities and consider those on the peripheries. This is at its heart all a great witness for a Savior who asked us go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (Matthew28:19) – even if the Devil can be in the details of political policies and realities.

In listening to him speak, I thought of the many conservative Roman Catholics whom I know personally that hate (yes, hate) this Pope. I have seen them post about it, and in some cases, I somehow ended up on an email chain with argumentative, unfriendly articles attached. Sometimes, the complaints surrounded his openness to relationships with Protestants or the fearful perception that Pope Francis was reinterpreting dogma or traditional practices. His restrictions on the Latin Mass is also unpopular in that camp, as is his Franciscan, Argentinian approach to liberation theology, which they claim has created confusion. They often claim he is too political, sometimes as if the Church should never interact with business or the world. Speaking of business, Pope Francis has sought to reform the Vatican bank, the Institute for Works of Religion (IOR), to make it more transparent and accountable. This was not always popular with movers and shakers in the Vatican. The list can go on much further, but whatever he has done or failed to do, the posts, articles and emails are often very ungenerous. In fact, some can demonize him as if he is an antipope or antichrist of some sort seeking to kill the Roman Catholic Church.

This is all in the face of a broad popularity – 75% of United States Catholics see Pope Francis in a positive light. (It is much harder to gage any sure Protestant view of the Pope due to historic differences and in some traditions animosity, yet a Barna study found that 35% of respondents thought Pope Francis actually improved their view of the Roman Catholic Church.)

Yet as with all of us who believe in Jesus, imperfect as we are, God can still always use our humble, sin tainted witness for good (Romans 8:28). Martin Luther’s caution regarding the commandment not to give false testimony – number eight as Lutherans count them – comes first to my mind: “We should fear and love God so that we do not tell lies about our neighbor, betray him, slander him, or hurt his reputation, but defend him, speak well of him, and explain everything in the kindest way” (from his Small Catechism). Then in the case of Pope Francis, I must say that his hoping to turn the Vatican’s face outward, having the Church go to the people outside the walls, is admirable. All Christians should agree that this is needed in a world with so much pain, suffering, and often times ignorance.

Sure, Martin Luther was no fan of Popes. (He called his contemporary Pope the Antichrist in 1520.) Yet, he, too, would likely agree that this is the way the Church should seek to live out the Gospel. He once argued, “Anyone who is to find Christ must first find the Church.” He goes on to say the Church is not a building but us in the flesh! Luther wrote extensively on vocation, God’s call in our ordinary, day to day lives. Our vocation is ultimately for the glory of God and the service of others. To Luther, even a father changing a dirty diaper becomes holy when done in love. Yet, this is never about earning merit for heaven. “God does not need our good works, but our neighbor does,” quipped Luther. The Church, you and me and all who believe, need to be active in the world to meet people, love them, and share our love of God with them through word and example.

Then, Martin Luther taught a great deal about what we call the Theology of the Cross. Yes, this understanding holds that we can never save ourselves. Only Jesus through his cross and resurrection can do that. Yet, it also reminds us that God often shows up not in and through power but in places of weakness and suffering. We remember that we were saved for a purpose. As Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:24-25). Our lives are not just about us; our security and happiness. We are sent to this time and this place to love as Jesus loved. This often infers sacrifice and suffering alongside or for the benefit of “the least of these” (Matthew 25:45).

Finally, Martin Luther thought of sin as ultimately our being “curved inward on ourselves” (incurvatus in se). Looking out for ourselves first can keep us from caring for the neighbors and world around us. It can lead to greed. It might encourage indifference to the suffering of those around us. We might abuse employees or others close to us. We might hear ourselves saying, “That’s not my problem” when Jesus says, “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34). When our eyes are on ourselves, we can’t accurately see the world as it is, nor our place in it. We tend to take our eyes off of Jesus and lose our way, hurting ourselves, others, and our world – intentionally or not. So despite some profound theological, polity, and worship differences, I think Pope Francis is taking his stand not too distant from us Lutherans. We are indeed asked to be Light bearers to the people of this world.

When Lutherans are baptized, they are often presented a small candle lit from the Paschal candle (a much larger candle in the sanctuary representing Christ’s own light). The lay leader giving the candle to the newly baptized quotes Jesus telling them, “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16). We have to fight by God’s help our human tendency to be curved inward on ourselves. Look to Christ in his examples, teachings and promises. He’s the Light of the World (John 8:12). We can ask for his Spirit to guide us and correct our course when we are wrong (John 14:16 and John 16:7).

As old Marty would repeatedly say in his catechism, “This is most certainly true.” We were created and called to cooperate with the grace offered us to help fulfill God’s will for the world. Yet if we are in the habit of not doing so, our lives will likely become similar to an old, ill-used wick bent inward and broken. Our light, really Christ’s light, can appear as if snuffed out. At the very least, we won’t shine with the abundant life Jesus promised and intended for us (John 10:10 and Romans 5:17). What a loss for us and our world!

If you wish to see the video of the full panel conversation at France24 in English, click here – “Which direction for the Church? Pope’s hospitalisation puts prelates on stand-by.”

This detailed post evolved from a simple Facebook exchange on February 26, 2025. I want to thank Hendro Munsterman again for sharing about his panel discussion.

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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February 26, 2025 · 2:55 am

Sunrise, Sunset

Photo by the author, July 16, 2022.

I recently read an article about the benefit of watching sunrises and sunsets. Based on research, people across the world find such solar events to be “the most beautiful and awe-inspiring weather.” It has long been argued that being out in nature can help one’s mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health. Time outdoors can help lower blood pressure for example.

Yet, it appears gazing at sunrises and sunsets can bring extra benefit. (Even looking at pictures of sunrises and sunsets on screensavers or paintings can have an impact apparently.) The lead author of the study, Alex Smalley, said, “We have, as Western populations, become very disconnected from the natural world. When you see something vast and overwhelming or something that produces this feeling of awe, your own problems can feel diminished and so you don’t worry so much about them.”

This should really be no surprise. John Calvin argued that looking at sunrises and the marvels of creation can become the start of a human’s search for or belief in the existence of a divine being. Martin Luther seems to have agreed. He reportedly said, “God writes the Gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.” Recognizing that there is a beauty and purpose bigger than ourselves can lead to awe and ultimately a sense of joy and peace,

Perhaps that’s why St. Paul commended people to focus on the good rather than the bad. He wrote, “Finally brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8).

Readings such as Psalm 8 even use nature to argue for our significance thanks be to God’s love for us, “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”

We aren’t just talking about positive thinking here. In looking at the cosmos around us, listening to the laughter of children, resting in the quiet, or even sharing laughter among friends, we can sense a connectedness to something bigger than ourselves. A spark of joy and meaning can come.

So, put down the phone. Set aside rushing to the next program or event. Be still, look around, and take note of the beauty that is always in your midst. Hear it from the word of God found in scripture or the birds singing to God’s glory above you. Feel the beauty under your toes and smell it in the forests or by the sea. Then, let your awe rise with your prayers of thanksgiving. For our God created this all out of love for you and for all.  

© 2025 The Rev. Louis Florio. All content not held under another’s copyright may not be used without permission of the author.

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