The first thirty-nine chapters of the Book of Isaiah are regarded as coming from the hand of Isaiah ben Amoz. He wrote before the conquest of Jerusalem, the destruction of the temple, and the exile of its population to Babylon. That catastrophe befell Jerusalem in the year 586 before the Christian Era. Chapter forty marks the beginning of the work of an anonymous prophet who wrote in the period when the Persian King Cyrus defeated the last Babylonian ruler, King Nabonidus, in the year 539.[1] Cyrus allowed the exiles to return to Jerusalem. Second Isaiah begins with these words: “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ended, that her iniquity is pardoned, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”[2]

Concerning the first lesson that we heard today, I think a more appropriate passage from Genesis to pair with today’s gospel lesson would be the story of Abraham sending his senior servant to his own family that he left behind, at the Lord’s call, to bring a relative to marry his son Isaac. Abram tells his servant, “The Lord, before whom I walk, will send his angel with you and prosper your way; and you shall take a wife for my son from my kindred and from my father’s house.”[1] The servant leaves Canaan for the homeland, Haran.

Since April, I’ve been reading two very different books. One is by the now-retired chief judge of the Federal Court of Appeals in Chicago, Richard Posner. It’s called, Aging and Old Age, published in 1995. In his last chapter, he writes, “The evidence that there really is a process called aging that takes its toll of everyone, albeit at different rates, generating [fundamental][1] and often occupationally relevant physical and mental differences between older and younger persons, is more compelling than any evidence thus far advanced to demonstrate occupationally relevant differences in the fundamental capacities of men and women, whites and blacks, or persons who differ in their sexual orientation.[2] Any of us who have had our DNA analyzed are amazed by the breadth of our origins since the beginning of humankind.

Last year, while preparing a sermon for the Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, I came across an explanation for why the cross is not a common symbol in early Christian art. But unfortunately, when I wanted to refer to it later, I couldn’t find the reference. The online Encyclopedia Britannica states that Emperor Constantine banned crucifixion in the early fourth century in honor of the cross. But realistic portrayals of Jesus’ crucifixion do not begin until the early fifth century.[1] The explanation that I had come across said that crucifixion was such a cruel and horrible punishment that it needed to pass out of living memory before the sign of Jesus’ suffering could become part of the devotional life of believers.

Matthew and Luke both recount Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ. But neither includes the healing story Mark used to introduce Jesus’ question to his disciples, “Who do humans say that I am?”[1] You hear this passage today because your rector takes advantage of this Prayer Book permission: “Any reading may be lengthened at discretion.”[2]

When I served at Saint Luke’s in Baton Rouge, I learned that Independence Day became an annual commemoration in Vicksburg, Mississippi, only after World War II. This town surrendered to the Union Army on July 4, 1863.[1] In seminary, I remember being surprised when I learned that the 1789 and the 1892 American Prayer Books made no provision for a commemoration of Independence Day. I suspect something similar was at work with the introduction of Labor Day to the Prayer Book.

No words in John’s gospel are ever very far from the verb “believe.” So today’s gospel lesson from John’s account of the supper before the Passover, we read, “Jesus said, “Let not your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms . . . And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also” (John 14:1–3). I have a hunch that Father Wells’s faith journey was underway before he had any idea that it was possible for God not to be a part of people’s lives. He grew up in the church. He and Father Joseph Zorawick, retired rector of Christ and St. Stephen’s Church, sang together in the boys’ choir of the Church of the Resurrection here in the city. I think it is fair to say that Father Wells never ventured far from knowing his Lord.

Today we heard most, but not all, of the seventh chapter of Mark’s gospel. Jesus is in Galilee. He and his disciples have crossed the sea to Gennesaret. Mark writes, “And when they got out of the boat, immediately the people recognized him, and ran about the whole neighborhood and began to bring sick people on their pallets to any place where they heard he was.”[1] Yet all was not well. A group of Pharisees and scribes from Jerusalem was waiting for him. Jesus had little patience for their concerns for ritual purity.

I’ve had the city of Bologna, in Italy, on my mind lately. This week, the porticoes of Bologna, which started to be constructed in the 12th century and are now found throughout the city, were added as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. I was born there and go back when I can. Obviously, this wasn’t possible during the pandemic and now it’s been a few years. One of the things I did instead during the pandemic, to try to make up for not being able to go, was to order a tigelliera from Bologna. I imagine that you may be wondering what in the world is that. In fact, I was speaking with a friend of mine here in New York, who is originally from Napoli, and even she’s never heard of it. It’s something very specific to the region around Bologna.

Jesus sent the disciples out and they “anointed with oil many that were sick and healed them.”[1] This week, the Thursday healing Masses at St. Mary’s returned and I was happy to have been scheduled as the celebrant. We blessed new oil as it’s been about 16 months since the last time we were able to offer anointing on a Thursday. The appointed gospel reading was a passage from Matthew that parallels what we just heard in Mark.[2] It’s similar, though there are a few differences. One, in particular, stands out to me.

Today we hear the beginning of the tenth chapter of Matthew. This chapter is one of the five sermons Matthew’s Jesus gives in this gospel. We will hear all of it at the Daily Eucharist beginning today through next Monday.

Jesus begins by giving the twelve disciples the power to cast out unclean spirits and heal—his power. Matthew and Luke draw their list of disciples from Mark.[1] There are minor variations. Note that the number twelve is significant in the emerging Christian community. Later in this gospel, Jesus will say to the twelve apostles, “Truly, I say to you, in the new world, when the Son of man shall sit on his glorious throne, you who have followed me will also sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.”[2]

Jesus, newly baptized, is cast into the wilderness by the Spirit. He is not alone there: Like Adam and Eve in the Garden, he is “with the wild animals.” Like Adam and Eve, he is tested by Satan, who cannot defeat this new Adam, who is cared for by ministering angels, and who emerges from the wilderness to proclaim a kingdom, that Adam could never achieve: “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God and saying, ‘The time has been fulfilled, and the dominion of God has come near! Turn around, return, change your minds and believe in the good news!’” (Mark 1:14–15).

Jesus, newly baptized, is cast into the wilderness by the Spirit. He is not alone there: Like Adam and Eve in the Garden, he is “with the wild animals.” Like Adam and Eve, he is tested by Satan, who cannot defeat this new Adam, who is cared for by ministering angels, and who emerges from the wilderness to proclaim a kingdom, that Adam could never achieve: “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God and saying, ‘The time has been fulfilled, and the dominion of God has come near! Turn around, return, change your minds and believe in the good news!’” (Mark 1:14–15).

In 1971, the British-born New Testament scholar Reginald Fuller began writing a series of articles for the journal Worship to introduce the then-new three-year Lectionary for Mass adopted by the Roman Catholic Church in 1969. It’s the basis for most lectionaries in the Christian West. Dr. Fuller was a priest of the Church of England. After taking a position at Seabury­Western Theological Seminary, he was received as a priest of the Episcopal Church. He would go on to teach at Union Theological Seminary here in the city. In 1972, he became professor of New Testament at the Virginia Theological Seminary, from which he retired in 1985. The articles were published as a book in 1974 called Preaching the New Lectionary: The Word of God for the Church Today.