Sermon; Baptism of Christ; Matt. 3:13-17

Today is the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord.  In a few minutes we will once again renew our own baptismal vows.  We will once again make promises that we should take seriously and that we should strive to uphold in every aspect of our personal lives.  Will we resist evil?  Will we make worship and fellowship a priority?  Will we seek and serve Christ in all persons?  Will we proclaim the good news?  Will we strive for justice and respect the dignity of every human being?

If we want to live a life based in the Christian faith, we should use this covenant as a template; because living a Christian-based life is much more than eating cake, attending polite receptions, or telling people who practice yoga they’re going to hell (no, I’m not making that up).

That said, there are two specific things I want to address regarding the baptism of Christ. 

The first is to answer the question:  Why are we baptized?  There are two main reasons for our baptism:  1) to cleanse us from sin, and 2) to become adopted into the household of God.  We could argue that the first doesn’t last that long, but the second is an indissoluble bond between us and God.

You may then ask, if baptism cleanses us from sin, why did Jesus need to get baptized?  Yes, he was fully human, but he was also fully divine.  And as we will affirm later during the Eucharistic Prayer, “he lived as one of us, yet without sin.”  So he didn’t need to be cleansed from sin.

And if baptism brings us into the household of God, why did Christ need to get baptized?  Because as Son of God, and the Second Person of the Trinity, Christ was already dwelling in the household and community of the Holy Trinity. 

Based on these things, Jesus didn’t need to be baptized.  His baptism, however, is an example to us.  Think of it as a, “Do as I do” precedent.  Jesus could also very well have said, “Do this in remembrance of me,” after he came up out of the water.

Our baptism doesn’t mean that God loves us more or others less, or that we will never again sin, because he doesn’t and we will.  But it does bring us fully into the household of God.  It means that we are officially part of a faith community.  And as with being part of any other household, it means we have certain rights and responsibilities that we are required to live into.  The baptism of Jesus was the point at which he was anointed to live into his responsibilities that we will see later in the gospel.

Our baptism brings us into this household of God where we are raised up as disciples and given responsibilities to fulfill for the mission of God and the Church.  At our baptism, we are anointed with the power of the Holy Spirit to proclaim the good news of God in Christ in the same way that Jesus was anointed to proclaim the good news.

The second thing about this passage I want to address is what happened when Jesus was baptized:  “Just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove . . .”

The Gospel of Matthew pulls and quotes from Hebrew scriptures more than any other gospel.  Through dreams and prophets, Matthew recalls the ancient faith.  The Slaughter of the Holy Innocents by Herod recalls Pharaoh’s drowning of Hebrew babies.  The Holy Family going to Egypt and coming out of Egypt recalls the history of the Israelite people.  So this image of the heavens opening and a dove descending isn’t just a pretty picture, it recalls the great flood in Genesis.

There the heavens were opened, water washed away all life, and a dove found a symbol of new life.  Here, the heavens were opened, the old life is washed away, and new life is found in the dove of God’s Holy Spirit.

The baptism of Christ recalls events of the ancient faith and sets a precedent for all his disciples moving into the future.

Baptism brings us into the household of God endowing us with rights and responsibilities.  Baptism washes away our old life and brings us into a new life with God.  Baptism shapes us and changes us.  Or it should.

And we are reminded just how much baptism should change us when we recite the baptismal covenant.  If we are to resist evil, will we stand against the rise of white nationalism and white supremacy now running rampant?  If we are to seek and serve Christ in all persons, will we welcome the stranger, alien, and people of color?  If we are to strive for justice, will we speak out against arrests, detainments, and killings of innocent people by those who use the law to justify hateful behavior?

Baptism is more than eating cake, attending polite receptions, and telling people they’re going to hell.  Through our baptism we are called to proclaim the good news of God in Christ – even, and especially, when the world doesn’t want to hear it.

Amen.

Lessons & Carols

 Today is the First Sunday after Christmas which means it's our annual service of Christmas Lessons and Carols.

Consequently, there is no sermon today.  There will not be a sermon next week either because the bishop is visiting and preaching.

Enjoy the break.

Sermon; Christmas Eve 2025

Merry Christmas!

First and foremost, we are glad you are here.  Whether this is your first time to Saint Luke’s, or whether you worship here on a regular basis, we are glad you are here.  Whether you live in Buffalo, or whether you have come from elsewhere, we are glad you are here.

No matter where you fit within what I have just said, whether you are a visitor or a regular, a local or from elsewhere, we are all on a pilgrimage of sorts.  Not an actual pilgrimage to Bethlehem, and not a pilgrimage as grueling as the Camino de Santiago, but a pilgrimage nonetheless.  Tonight is our yearly pilgrimage to join in the story of Jesus born in a back room where the animals were kept.  Tonight is our yearly pilgrimage to hear the story of a child laid in a feeding trough.  Tonight is our yearly pilgrimage when we hear the prophets of old and look for the time foretold.  Tonight is our yearly pilgrimage that takes us both into the past and into the future.

As we make our pilgrimage tonight we remember the past.  We remember the story of Christ’s birth, the manger, the angels, and the shepherds.  Maybe we remember a pageant or two with adorable little sheep and a precocious Mary.  Maybe we remember worshipping with family members at a midnight mass.  All of this remembering is part of our Christmas pilgrimage. 

We make pilgrimages, in part, to remember and RE-member.  We do it, in part, to connect and bind ourselves to something bigger, to something mystical, and maybe to something eternal.  These pilgrimages bind us together with other pilgrims and with God.  They take the DIS-membered parts and RE-member them together.

This pilgrimage we participate in tonight is also done every Sunday.  Every Sunday pilgrims come together and are RE-membered into the Communion of Saints through the Body and Blood of Christ.  And tonight we both remember and are RE-membered into the mystical story of God made man in the person of Jesus.

But as we remember this particular night and this particular event, let us also pay attention to the details of this story.

In the story from the Gospel of Luke which we just heard, we are told that Mary lays the baby Jesus in the manger because there was no room for them in the inn.  We are also told that a host of angels appeared to shepherds who were watching over their flocks out in a field somewhere.

And the Gospel of Matthew gives us the story of the magi coming from far away to bring gifts and honor the new king.  That gospel tells us they first went to Jerusalem because that’s where you would expect to find a king.  But he wasn’t there.  Instead he was found in Bethlehem, a small town and not the home of kings.

I bring up these two different stories not to question them or to cause you to doubt the accuracy of each, but to notice what we often overlook.  Amid our festivities and gatherings, amid the music, candlelight, and worship, amid all of that is the recognition that Jesus did not come in power and glory.  He did not come in kingly fashion.  He did not come to be noticed by the rich and powerful.  He did not come to take a prominent position and be hailed as king.

Instead he comes to a place that has no room for him.  He is found first by the unknown and unnamed, the shepherds, who most people probably overlooked.  The magi find him as a toddler living an unremarkable life in a small town.  This is the God of those who have been told there is no room for them.  This is the God who calls the unknown to be a part of his life.  This is the God who focuses on those living on the outskirts.

As we make our pilgrimage to worship God Incarnate and be RE-membered into the Body, let us also remember what we often overlook.

Jesus arrived in a back room and was placed in a manger because there was no room for him in the inn.  How many people are shuffled to the back room or out-of-the-way places because there is no room for them in polite or mainstream society?  Divorced women (yes, that’s still a thing), teenage mothers, lgbtq people, people of color, people of different nationalities, people of the wrong weight, people with learning disabilities, people with addictions, people with physical ailments.  The list is long.  These are the people our current society tells, “There is no room for you here.”  But God is the God of those who are told there is no room, and we need to remember that.

The birth of Jesus was first announced to a group of unknown people living out in a field.  Even today, and even here, there are unknown people living on the margins who go unnoticed.  Are we willing to take the same notice of them as the angels did?  If we do, do we not only tell them where they might find Christ, but do we allow them to be part of our story?

The magi came looking for Jesus in prominent places and among prominent people.  That search initially led them to people who would use God for their own devices or as a prop to gain political power and favor.  But that search eventually led them to the unexpected place of Bethlehem.  In our various pilgrimages let us follow the example of the magi and remember to look for God in unexpected and out of the way places; because as we see over and over again, God doesn’t operate as we do.

On this Christmas Eve may we remember why we come to worship.

May our pilgrimage RE-member us into the Communion of Saints and the Body of Christ.

May we remember and RE-member those who have been told there is no room and/or have been left out on the margins.

May we find God in unexpected places.

Finally, may we look to the past to remember how God included those whom society left out. 

May we look to the future as WE work to RE-member into the Body those whom others would keep DIS-membered.

And may the love of the Incarnate God live through us this Christmas season and beyond.

Amen.

Sermon; Advent 4A; Matt. 1:18-25

We’ve been taking a close look at the themes of Advent – those of Hope, Peace, and Joy. The theme of this Fourth Sunday of Advent is Love.

Love is an interesting word in our language.  We use love to describe deep emotions, as a synonym for like, as a term of respect, and in a bunch of other ways too numerous to mention.  I love my wife.  I loved how my three previous bishops handled business.  I loved the pizza we used to get from a particular restaurant when we were in Montana.  I love it when the Dallas Cowboys lose.  I love the Episcopal church.  I love white chocolate raspberry ice cream from Tillamook.  I love my daughter.

So we can see that the term “love” is used and meant in vastly different ways.  Sometimes they can be hard to quantify.  Sometimes they can be hard to order.  For instance, would I place a bowl of white chocolate raspberry ice cream above watching the Cowboys lose?  Those two things are very different, yet we still use the same term.

But for this Fourth Sunday of Advent, for this Sunday of Love, we have to look at love more deeply.  The love expressed in today’s gospel is multifaceted and profound.

First, we have Joseph, someone who Matthew describes as a righteous man.  This means that he lived his faith on a daily basis – not just when it was convenient or when people were watching.  He strove to obey the Law to the best of his ability.  But what made him righteous was that he understood the difference between the legalistic letter of the law and the underlying heart of the law.

Legally he could have had Mary stoned to death for conceiving a child he knew wasn’t his.  But because he loved her, and because he understood the heart of the law, he chose a more loving option – to quietly dismiss her.  There was a risk in doing this, though, because he could have been accused of breaking God’s law and he himself could have been removed or shunned by the religious authorities.  Living life by prioritizing love over law, however, is scandalous in some people’s eyes, and sometimes also dangerous.  Joseph chose love over law.  He chose the inclusive and scandalous love of God over the legal interpretations of humans.

In our eyes quietly dismissing Mary is not very compassionate; but at that time, and in that place, that was probably the most compassionate and righteous thing Joseph could do.  But it wasn’t enough.  So into this mix God sends the angel Gabriel to deliver a message basically saying, “Do not be afraid to stay with her; it’ll be okay.”  And he does.  Once again he places love over law.

Second, we have the love of God that chose to become Incarnate in the person of Jesus.

My friend Mtr. Ann Tillman from that other Buffalo, and with whom I do the Wednesday Night BBQ, sent me a link to a great sermon delivered by the Rev. Dr. Sam Wells, Vicar of St. Martin’s in the Fields, London, which he preached at Trinity Church, Boston.  In that sermon he says that there was always going to be a Jesus because there always has been a Jesus since before the foundation of the world.  The Incarnation happens, he says, because God wants to be with us.

What Fr. Wells reminds us of is that God chose to be Incarnate, to be with us, before there was a creation.  Which then means that God’s intention to be Incarnate in the person of Jesus was the reason for creation.  The whole story of humanity and creation is about God being with us in every aspect of our life – including being with us through sin and death.  In the Incarnation, in God being present with us through sin, death, and everything in between, love lives.  This is a self-sacrificial form of love that is almost incomprehensible. 

And third, within the love of the Incarnation is the love that God wants to be with us.  Matthew’s gospel quotes from Isaiah when he writes that the child shall be called Immanuel, God with us.  Again, God with us is almost incomprehensible.

We get an idea of it when we choose to be with our partner in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, and in all sorts of other conditions.  This is also God’s promise to us – that God will be with us from birth to death and will never forsake us no matter what may come.  Unlike people whose love grows cold, or who break the bonds of trust causing love to end, or who are just plain fickle, God with us means just that – God is with us.  Always.  To borrow from the baptismal service, God with us is an indissoluble bond.

On this Fourth Sunday of Advent which is focused on Love, we need to look at love more deeply.  The love we are talking about is more than pizza or white chocolate raspberry ice cream.  It’s deeper and stronger than our love of spouse or children.

The love of God drives us to place morality over legalism.  This love allows, AND REQUIRES, us to question and disobey morally bankrupt laws and laws designed to hurt rather than aid.

This is the love of God that set creation in motion from before time so that God and humanity could be joined together.

This is the love that declares God is with us.  At the end of Matthew when Jesus says, “I am with you to the end of the age,” this isn’t something Jesus throws out to make the disciples feel better.  It’s a fulfillment of what God planned from the very beginning.  As my favorite Christmas carol says, “of the things that are, that have been, and that future years will see, evermore and evermore.”

This is the love of this Fourth Sunday of Advent.  This is the love we hope to attain to.  This is the love we hope people will see lives in us. 

May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with us all evermore and evermore.

Amen.

Sermon; Advent 3A; Is. 35:1-10, Matt. 11:2-11

As I’ve been leading off each Sunday, every Sunday in Advent has a theme.  The themes of the first two Sundays were Hope and Peace, respectively.  This Third Sunday of Advent is the Sunday of Joy.  It’s the Sunday of the rose candle and, in some years, the Sunday we hear the Magnificat. And like on those previous Sundays of Hope and Peace, we can see the theme of Joy in today’s lessons, especially in the reading from Isaiah and the Gospel.

Isaiah foresees a time when the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the lame will leap, and the mute will sing.  The people of the Lord will return to the holy city with everlasting joy and sorrows will flee away.  These are not just instances of happiness; these are instances and times of pure joy.  Because joy is more than being happy.  Joy has many definitions, but the one I like most is that it is a loving fulfillment of a deep longing.

But also like the last two Sundays when we might have wondered where the gospel passage reflected Hope and Peace, we may wonder where the joy is to be found in today’s gospel passage.  John is in prison.  His disciples are sent to ask Jesus if he’s the one who is to come.  Jesus sort of berates the crowds for not really knowing who John the Baptist was.  So again, where’s the joy?

If joy is the loving fulfillment of a deep longing, then joy is to be found when Jesus says, “Tell John what you hear and see:  the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, deaf hear, dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”  All of these things, I think, would be things deeply longed for – a restoration of health and the news that you will no longer have to live on the margins are all a form of good news.

The question then becomes, “How do we proclaim/advertise/make known this joy?”  One way to do that would be to follow the instructions that Jesus gave to John’s disciples:  Go and tell what you hear and see.

There is an order to that statement.  First, there’s a recognition that you are hearing good news through the Word of God.  On a macro level, you are hearing that God’s Word spoke creation into being.  You are hearing that Jesus is the Word Incarnate.  And you are hearing that Jesus is the Messiah, Savior of the world. 

Second, once we recognize Jesus as the Incarnate Word and Savior, then we are able to see his works in the world around us.  We can see how proclamations lead to gospel deeds.  We can see how healings are attributed to God’s Word.  We can see that loving fulfillments of deep longings are a result of Good News preached and lived.

This order is also a correction of, “Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Go and tell John what you hear and see.”  When we tell people about God, Jesus, the Church, or this parish, we often invite them to come and see.  We do this because it’s often easier to explain all of this when we are participating in it.  We’re much better if we can frame that invitation and conversation in and around our worship.  This lets people come and see what we are talking about.

But on another, maybe more important level, and looking at the big picture, people want to know if our actions match what we proclaim.  In other words, when we speak of welcome, justice, equality, compassion, etc., do we DO those things?  When we speak of those things, do people see us working to make our words a reality?  There may be no greater evangelism tool than for people to hear the good news proclaimed and then to see it in action.

On this Sunday of Advent Joy, take some time and ponder your deep longing and how that could be lovingly fulfilled.

In the big picture that probably looks a lot like what Isaiah and Jesus proclaimed – the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, the sick are healed, and the poor receive good news.  These are things which the Church should proclaim and these are things which the world around us should see happening as a result of our efforts.

In the smaller picture, what about our faith brings you joy?  What about this place brings you joy?  It’s important to be able to articulate those things because they are part of the Good News of Christ.  The Good News isn’t only that the Son became Incarnate and through him we have a path to God.  The Good News is also how you interact with the Good News of God in Christ.

Finally, this Good News, this joy, is not meant to be held onto.  It is not meant to be kept to ourselves.  It is meant to be proclaimed and shared.

“Go and tell John what you hear and see.”  This wasn’t only a directive to his disciples who came asking the question as to whether or not Jesus was the one.  This is also directed to us.  In Christ, and with Christ, and through Christ there is a loving fulfillment of a deep longing that leads to joy.  With that in mind, then, Christ’s directive to John’s disciples is also directed to us:  Go and tell people what you hear and what you see.

And in that telling of what is heard and seen, may the joy found in Christ and the Church spread far beyond these walls.

Amen.

Sermon; Advent 2A; Is. 11:1-10, Ps. 72:1-7, Matt. 3:1-12

As I said last week, each Sunday of Advent has a particular theme.  Last week’s theme was Hope.  That hope was reflected in the Collect as we prayed for grace to cast away the works of darkness.  It was reflected in Isaiah’s vision of beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  And it was reflective of the hope we place in living out our convictions and working to make God’s kingdom present here on earth as it is in heaven.

The theme for this second week of Advent is Peace.  When we think about peace, we probably tend to think about the absence of conflict.  And while that is certainly one way to think about peace, that is not the peace of this Second Sunday of Advent.  The peace of this Sunday focuses on the wholeness that Christ brings to the world.  The peace of this Sunday has to do with a deep, lasting harmony that is rooted in the holy presence of God.

This deep, lasting harmony is seen in Isaiah when he writes of the wolf living with the lamb, of the leopard lying down with the kid, and of a time when none will hurt or destroy on God’s holy mountain.  This is a harmony within all of creation not seen since the days of Eden.  This harmony in creation extends to humanity when the root of Jesse will stand as a signal to all nations.

This deep, lasting harmony is seen in the Psalm where righteousness is prominent.  It is envisioned as when the needy will be defended, the poor will be rescued, and oppressors are crushed.  And it is proclaimed through an abundance of peace until the moon is no more.

And like last week, where we might have wondered how an apocalyptic gospel offered hope, we might wonder how a gospel where John the Baptist calls the Pharisees and Sadducees a “brood of vipers” can offer a vision of peace.  Or we might wonder where peace is to be found amidst John’s talk of gathering wheat while sending the chaff off to be burned with an unquenchable fire.

I know I’ve said this before, but it’s important to remember exactly what the difference is between chaff and wheat.  Chaff is the outer husk, or shell, that protects the wheat seed.  All wheat is protected by that husk or chaff for a time.

In some sense we are the same way.  We have all developed coping devices to help us maneuver our way through life and the world.  Whether that involves creating a tough-guy persona, or using our knowledge as a way to exert our dominance or to keep others at bay, or as any number of other coping mechanisms, we all try to protect ourselves.  Although it does seem that the older we get the less we care about what other people think about us.  But we still try to protect ourselves and, I would imagine, we still long for a place where we can be “our true selves.”

But regardless of how thick our shell is, God knows who we truly are.  God wants to gather his wheat into the granary and leave our chaff behind to be burned and never seen again.  If we understand the burning away of our chaff so that we can be brought into God’s holy presence, should that not give us a sense of peace?

The gospel reminds us that Christ is coming to reconcile humanity with God and with each other.  In that reconciling we see the protected, sheltered part of us being brought out, being exposed, and being loved.  There’s a sense of peace in that.  There’s a sense of peace in knowing we are at unity with God and loved for who we are.

This is the peace of this Second Sunday of Advent.

And in that we can see the mission of the Church.  The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.  In doing that we can look for ways to get beyond the chaff of other people.  We can look for the wheat in their lives and we can work to love them as God loves us.  We can do this by extending kindness, understanding, and forgiveness – those things that make up the peace of God.

For our own part, we can work to let go of our prejudices, our anxieties, and our fears.  That might be harder than reaching out to others because, more often than not, it’s us who want to hold onto our own protective barriers, our own chaff.  So maybe this burning of chaff in an unquenchable fire isn’t so bad after all.

Our Vision Statement here at Saint Luke’s is to Proclaim the Love of God and Extend Hope to ALL People.  I’m convinced that the more we do that, the more this place will be seen as a place of peace by others in our community.

In this Advent season may our anxieties melt away so we learn to abide in a deep, lasting harmony that is rooted in the eternal and peaceful presence of God.  This Advent season, may we have the courage to proclaim that peace to those around us.

Amen.

Sermon; Advent 1A; Matt. 24:36-44

Happy New Year!

Today is the First Sunday of Advent and the first day of the new liturgical year

Each Sunday of Advent has a particular theme, and this first Sunday’s theme is Hope.  This hope is reflected in the opening Collect:  We hope for grace to cast away the works of darkness; we have hope that Christ will come again in glory; we have hope that we will rise to life immortal.  Isaiah offers an image of hope when he proclaims people will beat their swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.  Isaiah offers hope when he envisions a time when nations will not learn war anymore.  And Paul proclaims hope when he says salvation is nearer to you now than when we first became believers.

The gospel today is one of those apocalyptic, end-time passages which, at first, may not seem to provide images of hope.  Here Jesus talks about people being swept away or taken at an unexpected time.  Unfortunately this passage has been used to (literally) scare the hell out of people.  People merrily ignoring God until drowned by a flood.  People ignoring God until a so-called rapture takes all the right people to heaven while all the wrong people get left behind.  But that isn’t a message of hope, that’s a revenge fantasy.

Where’s the hope in this gospel passage?  Well, let’s pop over to Hebrews Chapter 11, verse 1:  Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

In discussing this gospel passage both Saint John Chrysostom and Hilary of Poitiers said, “We must always be prepared to face the end of life.  We are not given the precise date of the Lord’s return so that we may remain always vigilant.”

Another anonymous source wrote, “. . . every generation should live in the constant expectation of Christ’s return.”  Not fear, but expectations.

Jesus said that the Son of Man would come at an unexpected hour.  This isn’t meant to be used as a story with which to terrorize people or frighten little children.  It’s not meant to be used as some form of “scared straight” propaganda.  Instead, it’s one way that Hebrews 11:1 can make sense.

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Above all else, Christianity is based on the belief that life wins and death is defeated.  With his death, Christ destroyed death.  In his resurrection Christ leads us to new life and unity with God.  Within this is the belief that somehow, in some form, Christ will return.  We affirm this in Eucharistic Prayer A when we say, “Christ has died.  Christ is risen.  Christ will come again.”

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for.

The Lord, through Isaiah, gives us an image of a time when nations shall beat their swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks, and war will be no more.  We hope for that time and God assures us that it will come.

We hope for the time of the Messiah’s coming, and Jesus assures us that time will come so we must always be vigilant.

And yet, that time of peace seems very far off or unattainable.  The coming of the Messiah sometimes seems like a fantasy.  These things are unseen, but we live with the conviction that they are possible.  We live with the conviction that it will happen.

Advent is the time of the already and not yet.  It is a time of hopeful, expectant, and active waiting.  Christ has already come and is also yet to come.  In this Advent time we live with the assurance of that hope.

But we must also live with the conviction of things not seen.  What would it look like to live with the conviction that the vision of Isaiah is possible?  Saint David’s Episcopal Church in Southfield, MI, is doing that very thing.  They created a gun buy-back program to get unwanted guns off the streets. They are literally turning spears into pruning hooks.

We have an assurance that things hoped for will come to pass.  We must also live with the conviction of things not seen.  But living with that conviction is more than sitting in our pews saying, “I believe.”  Conviction also requires action.

It may not be as dramatic as getting unwanted guns off the street.  Maybe it’s ensuring the Food Pantry always has a supply of personal hygiene items on hand.  Maybe it’s offering tutoring services or free baby sitting for single mothers and/or struggling parents.

In this time of hopeful expectation, maybe we are being asked to do more than wait – maybe we are being asked to live into our convictions and actively work to make God’s kingdom present here on earth as it is in heaven.

In this new year may our hope and conviction in Christ lead us into a place of active waiting.  In this new year, may we have the grace and strength to actively cast away the works of darkness.

Amen.