Jul 14
Poster urging New Yorkers to contribute to a fund to complete the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 1925. A century later, the church is still unfinished.
Photo: adsR/Alamy
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Poster urging New Yorkers to contribute to a fund to complete the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, 1925. A century later, the church is still unfinished.
Photo: adsR/Alamy
Open House Chicago 2024 - Day 1
October 19-20, 2024
Sponsored by the Chicago Architecture Center
Cathedral Hall, University Club of Chicago, 76 East Monroe Street
1909, Martin Roche, architect, Frederic Clay Bartlett, stained glass windows
Murphy Auditorium, 50 E. Erie Street
1926, Benjamin Marshall and Charles E. Fox of Marshall and Fox, architects
St. James Cathedral, Huron and Wabash Streets
1875, Edward Burling, architect
Lawson House, formerly Lawson YMCA, 803 N Dearborn Street
1931, Perkins, Chatten, and Hammond, architects; Edgar Miller, designer of the Chapel
Former Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia died in his sleep on September 20, 1947, of pancreatic cancer. He was 64. His funeral procession left the Cathedral of St. John The Divine on September 22. Although LaGuardia's father was Catholic and his mother Jewish, he himself was an Episcopalian.
Photo: Irving Haberman via IH Images/Getty Images
Construction of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine (Episcopal) in Morningside Heights, near Columbia University, August 1927. Although the work had been started in 1892, the building was still far from finished—and still is, nearly a century later.
Photo: Bettmann Archive/Getty Images/Fine Art America
Episcopal Cathedral of Manila, Philippines
American vintage postcard
“Hey James,” Peter called out, “what are you doing back there? Can’tcha keep up?” Peter was walking fast, nearly running the trail up Mount Tabor. He was walking faster than Jesus; faster than John; and certainly faster than James, who was slightly out of breath on this hike up the mountain. James grumbled, “Peter, you know this isn’t a race, right?” “Don’t egg him on,” John said. “He’ll just get louder and run faster. Leave him be.”
“Maybe he’ll fall and break his leg,” James spouted.
“Hey,” John laughed, “Don’t say that!”
“What? If it happened we’d stop, we’d laugh, and then Jesus would just come up and heal him.” Smiling, Jesus looked over their way, “James, you really don’t listen to anything I teach do you?”
They all laughed together. “Come on,” Jesus said, “We’re almost to the top.” _______________ The mountain they call Tabor sits nearly two thousand feet above the southern, Galilean plain. It was a well-known site for those in that part of Israel. No doubt, Jesus and his disciples would’ve watched the sun rise and the sun set on Mount Tabor many times in their ministry. But on this day the four friends, Jesus, Peter, James, and John were all walking together up the trail that lead to the top of the mountain. What they were doing, no one really knew except for Jesus. He had pulled them aside a few days prior and said, “Boys, this weekend let’s climb to the top of ol’ Tabor. Just the four of us.” The other disciples knew almost instinctively that nothing was abnormal about that. There was a certain report between Jesus, Peter, James, and John. And from time to time, they just did things by themselves. Just the four of ‘em. Well, early on that morning after gathering their supplies, they took off hiking. Up the trail. Hiking to the top of ol’ Tabor. _______________ There’s nothing a young boy loves more than a good adventure. And if you were lucky enough to live in the hills of North Carolina, then there were never any shortages of adventures. I remember what seemed like hundreds of battles between the Yankees and the Rebels that turned me into a hardened soldier by the time I had reached ten. The war raged hot in the woods behind my house. And with my best friend, Aaron Curtis, we roamed those hills almost every Saturday between the summers of 1993-1995, fighting off William T. Sherman and Ulysses S. Grant. One day after all the battles had been fought and the war was won, we began to talk of a great adventure. We began to talk of a great expedition to the top of Bradford Mountain. It was the tallest mountain in the world at that time. Situated just east of Tennessee and just south of Virginia, and right behind my house. This mountain loomed large in our small, ten year old world. We talked of how we would do it, how we’d trek to the top of ol’ Bradford. Finally the day came, after weeks of planning and gathering our supplies. Finally the Saturday morning came and we set out! It was a glorious day. Waving goodbye to our families. Canteens filled with water dangling from our sides. PB&Js tucked into our packs. We didn’t know when we’d home again. If ever. Shouting over our shoulders as we marched off, “Mom, no one knows for sure! We could get home just before dinner or after. We just don’t know at this point. It really depends on the conditions at the top of the summit.” With that we raced up the incline behind my house and barrelled through the tree line. We were off. Our adventure had begun. _______________ I can’t be sure what Peter, James, and John were expecting from their adventure to the top of Mount Tabor that day. But I doubt they were expecting to witness what we in Christianity know as The Transfiguration. You see, when Jesus and his friends finally got to the top of the mountain the strangest thing began to happen. There were two other people who walked up. And I’m not sure how this happened, but somehow Peter, James, and John knew that those people were Moses and Elijah. And in that moment, something began to happen to Jesus. He changed. His appearance began to change. They saw him no longer as a simple man, their friend, with whom they had been traveling. He looked different to them now. He was suddenly covered in white. Dazzling white. A white that was whiter than anything they’d ever seen before. And they were mesmerized. Beyond speech, they couldn’t say anything at all. This moment is hailed in the tradition as one the most sacred days of the Christian year. It was the moment when a few disciples saw Jesus as he would be after his death and resurrection, glorified in dazzling white. In a moment as in a blinking of an eye they saw Jesus as God. Brilliant beyond description, standing there with the greatest people of Judaism, Moses and Elijah. It was a profound and transcendent experience. _______________ You might have suspected by now that Bradford Mountain is not and never was the tallest mountain in the world. I mean, that’s just preposterous. But in my ten year old mind ol’ Bradford reached high into the clouds. It took a feat of human determination and fortitude to make it to the top. And we did it. And when we got there we just ran around stopping and looking out and yelling, “Hey! I bet we can see Tennessee from here!” No we couldn’t. But it was a profound experience that made us think to ourselves that we might just be able to see Tennessee. “This is the top of the world!” we said, “This is awesome! We don’t ever want to leave!” _______________ We’re told in Mark’s Gospel that Peter, James, and John were terrified at what they were seeing. They were completely overtaken by this profound and transcendent moment to the point that they were left speechless. But finally Peter musters up the courage to speak to Jesus and say, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let’s make three houses, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” I love Peter in this moment. He’s terrified. He doesn’t know what to say, but feels like he should say something. Kinda like a child, he just feels it and then says, “Let’s just stay here forever!” There’s something so honest about that exclamation. He realizes that there’s something incredibly profound about what he’s witnessing. A moment when the truth about who Jesus is overtakes him. “This man,” he thinks, “Jesus, my friend; this man is God.” When a truth like this overtakes us we look out and say, “This is the top of the world. I mean just look at him! He’s dazzling! A white that is whiter than anything I’ve ever seen! He’s mesmerizing. I wanna stay here forever. In this transcendent moment - I never wanna leave.” Just then a cloud began to build in the distance; a dark cloud came rolling over and covered the top of the summit. There was a voice that cracked and thundered and said, “This is my son, the beloved; listen to him.” And just after these words were spoken, in an instant, it was all over. And there was only one person left in front of them. Jesus. He was no longer dazzling. He was just standing there, simply clothed. Just the person that they walked up ol’ Tabor with. And he stood there for a second, then said, “Come on, let’s go.” And as they walked back down the mountain, Peter was no longer racing; James and John were silently following when Jesus spoke, “Listen, you can’t tell anyone about this. You can’t say anything until I’ve died and then come back to life.” And that was it. _______________ You know if there’s one thing that’s true about adventures it’s this: It’s always difficult when they end. My buddy Aaron and I stayed on top of Bradford Mountain for a while that Saturday, but then we had to leave. We had to get home for supper. It’s always hard to come down off the mountain. To see the outline of your house in the foreground. To have your imagination stifled. To enter into a world where you have to eat your vegetables and do your homework. A world where there are demands and where there is anxiety. A world where there is monotony. A world where you get older. A world where you suffer. Where people die. Where you die. “God,” sometimes we ask, “Can’t we just stay on the mountain.” _______________ I’ve been thinking about this story all week.
What does it mean for Jesus to take his friends to the top of a mountain and then be revealed to them as God? And what does it mean for him then to say, “Come on, let’s go back.”
“Are you serious, Jesus? We’re going back now? Just like that? We’re walking back down the same trail we came up on! I don’t want to go back down there!”
Jesus might have thought to himself, “I don’t wanna go back down either.” Because he knew what was down there. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, “Until I’ve died and come back to life.”
Jesus knew that walking down that mountain and along that trail would lead him directly to a cross. But away from that mountain he walked. There’s deep and mysterious meaning in his walking away from the mountain; a profound embrace of reality. Because there’s only one way to be resurrected, you first have to die. _______________ We may feel like we’re coming down off a mountain this morning. It’s sunset and the day’s almost over. The light is trickling down over the trees. And we may be saying, “I don’t wanna go back down.” But the deep and mysterious meaning is that when we walk away from the mountain, we embrace the reality of our lives; the reality of our faith; that through death comes life. Everyone of us this morning has a story about death. It may be as simple as a boy pulling up a chair at the supper table after an adventure on Bradford Mountain. It may be as complex as an addiction or depression or just the changing seasons of our lives. But the deep and mysterious meaning is in the walking. We may have to die somewhere along the way. But in that profound embrace of reality, walking away from the mountain; along that journey we’ll find new life. _______________ God, before your Son died you revealed him to be God on top of the holy mountain, then he walked back down. Help us to learn how to walk down mountains. To learn how to embrace the reality of our lives; to learn how to have faith. Help us always to find along that journey new life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Aren't we all just hypocrites?
Whenever I begin to write sermons my process is to begin on the Monday before I preach. I like to get alone and simply read the text, think about it, and then leave it. Later, I’ll come back and read around the text. That is I’ll read the passages before and after trying to get some sense of what it means. Sometimes ideas are quick to come and other times I find myself staring at an empty page for what seems like days. But with the topic of hypocrisy I found myself thinking about my own life. Thinking about what hypocrisy is to me. Thinking about those times when I have been hypocritical. Thinking about those moments when I’ve found myself staring at the empty pages of my life.
“Do not be like the hypocrites,” Jesus says. It’s called the Sermon on The Mount. Jesus has called his disciples and has been traveling around proclaiming the Gospel. He’s been proclaiming the Good News. He’s been healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, making the lame to walk. And now he’s sitting on a mountain. There are large crowds gathered around him and he begins to speak the definitive teaching of Christianity. The Sermon on The Mount.
“Blessed are the poor.”
“Blessed are those who mourn.”
“Blessed are the gentle.”
“Blessed are the merciful.”
“Blessed are the peacemakers.”
Such beauty, such simplicity. And just abstract enough to keep a good distance between the spiritual and the real. And maybe if Jesus would’ve stopped there then things wouldn’t be as difficult as they are. But he doesn’t. He goes on to say such things as this: “For I say to you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven.”
This is the great difficulty in reading the Sermon on The Mount. It presents this way of life that is seemingly impossible to follow. Who can do these things? Who can live this way? If someone hits me, then I should put my fists down and let them hit me again? If someone asks me for a dollar, then I should give them my entire wallet? Love my enemies?
As I was reading this passage again and again this week, I kept thinking how impossible it is to be a Christian and follow the way of Jesus.
And yet, we are all here today. Worshipping as Christians. Believing that we are Christians. But if we cannot follow this way of Jesus, are we just hypocrites?
_______________
It is perhaps one of the most common claims from people outside of the church, “Christians are just hypocrites.” Maybe they’re right or maybe they’re wrong. Maybe those who say such things have just finished reading the Sermon on The Mount and then looked around at the Christians in their community. But I think that it’s something that we all feel rather deeply. Are we all hypocrites?
I remember one time receiving a text message from someone I knew; from someone I had hurt. They said this,
“You know, I grew up in church. Watched, felt, and experienced so much hypocrisy. Finally, my parents stopped taking us. I was already calling bullshit by age eight. Why I’m telling you this is just, thank you, for reaffirming why I have no faith.
For someone who considered himself a “good Christian,” that was difficult to read. It brought me face to face with the reality that I was a hypocrite. I felt deeply the words of Jesus, “Do not be like the hypocrites.”
Reading the Sermon on The Mount brings us to an existential crisis: Who can do these things? Who can live this way? Are we just hypocrites? Am I just a hypocrite? Are we just left staring at a blank page with no words to write and with no sermon to preach?
_______________
I once knew a priest who was the finest preacher I’d ever heard. Every Sunday he would preach these sermons that would weave their way from the world into Scripture and from Scripture into the world. They were poetic and they were powerful.
Well, in our parish there was a man who was there every Sunday morning. He was a retired philosopher who had recently rekindled his affection for the church. And every Sunday he would sit and listen. He was bright and thoughtful and had a keen awareness for the mysterious attraction of Christianity.
One Sunday after the service the philosopher walked up to the priest, who had just preached a wonderful sermon on Jesus Christ. The philosopher shook the priest’s hand and said, “Father, beautiful sermon. It really was quite eloquent and at times even poetic. However, Father, my problem is that I just have a difficult time believing it.”
The priest looked at the philosopher and said to him, “Me too.”
This exchange between the priest and the philosopher has profoundly shaped me, precisely because I think that it gets to the heart of what Jesus is teaching in the Sermon on The Mount - Living an authentic life. Living a life of honesty and humility. Living a life where we tell the true story about who we are. The messy stories. The stories of struggle.
_______________
As I was reading this passage again and again throughout this week I kept asking myself the question, “Who can do these things? Who can live this way? Are we all just hypocrites?”
But then you get to the very end of our Gospel reading today and Jesus tells us, “Don’t be like the hypocrites who pray so that they may be seen . . . rather, pray these words . . . .” And then he goes on to give them the words of what we call The Lord’s Prayer. And just as the reading is ending he says this, “Now you must forgive others. And if you do this, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you don’t forgive them, then your Father will not forgive you.”
And there it is. A moment of grace if we are only willing to recognize it. It was almost as if Jesus heard our cries when we said, “Who can do these things? Who can live this way?” To that he responds with, “You can’t. And you need to recognize it. And you need to recognize it in other people.”
At some moment in our life, faith may not come easy. Believing may be difficult. At other moments in our life, will will hurt people and they will hurt us. Moments when we may be tempted with this word - Hypocrisy.
Hypocrisy is not so much a dissonance between what you do and what you believe. Or to put it another way, not “practicing what you preach.” Rather, hypocrisy is about inauthentic living. It’s about not having humility in recognizing that you are not perfect. It’s about judging others when you fail to see yourself for who you really are - a person who needs a moment of grace just like everyone else. Who when a person says to you, “I love what you say about Jesus, but I just have a difficult time believing,” can respond with, “Me too.” To forgive; to never judge; to be authentic and honest about who we are; and in everything to offer the other person that same moment of grace that we all need.
_______________
The Sermon on The Mount calls us to a new way of life. A new way of life that is truly Gospel. A new way that is truly Good News. It calls us to do dramatic things like not resisting violence; things like radical giving to the poor; things like loving our enemies.
But at the heart of the Sermon on The Mount we are called to be authentic with one another. Called to be honest with one another. Called to love one another.
_______________
I am convinced that if the church is to continue in this culture, then it must be the sort of church that is authentic and honest. It must be the sort of church that shatters the facades and takes down the walls of hypocrisy. It must be the sort of church that tells true stories about itself. The stories of doubt in a community of faith. The messy stories. The stories of struggle. It must be the sort of church that forgives; that never judges; that is authentic and honest about who we are; and in everything a church that offers people that same moment of grace that we all need.