Sunday Sermon - The Rev Hillary Raining (June 7 2026)

[00:00:00] Speaker A: The holy Gospel of our Savior Jesus Christ, according to Luke. [00:00:04] Speaker B: Glory to you, Lord Christ. [00:00:09] Speaker A: The 70 whom Jesus had sent out returned with joy, saying, lord, in your name, even the demons submit to us. He said to them, I watch Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions and over all the power of the enemy. And nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven. The Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, Lord Christ. [00:01:18] Speaker B: Children ages 3 through 10 are invited to join Miss Katie for story time and songs. They'll return at the peace. In the name of one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen. Please be seated. Happy Columba Day. Go ahead and say it. Happy Columba Day. There we go. Now, this is our joyous feast day. And I feel like I need to give us an apology at the start of this sermon because I'm about to make us all a little uncomfortable by asking us to do something decidedly not celebratory. Would you please, pretty please bring to mind the worst thing you have ever done? I know, not feast day material, I understand, but please, I'm going somewhere with this. In your mind's eye, please bring to mind the worst thing you have ever done. Now, I don't mean the most embarrassing thing. I mean the thing that was most hurtful to others or yourself. The part of the story you wish wasn't there. Maybe you've dealt with it, maybe you haven't. Maybe there were consequences. Or maybe it's known only to you and to God. Maybe it isn't one thing. Maybe it's a pattern of things. Lying, abuse, adultery, addiction, selfishness, whatever it might be, please bring that to your mind. Now, I'm doing that for myself as well, so trust me when I say I understand. This is not a fun exercise. But our patron saint, Saint Columba, is not one that lets us off easy. His life was based around the worst thing he ever did, but rather it leading to just pain. It did lead to joy and celebration. So while you think about the worst thing you've ever done, and I think about the worst thing I've ever done, let me tell you about the worst thing our patron saint ever did. Columba started his life in Ireland and was already well on his way to becoming something of an important saint there when he found his life taking a turn towards Scotland. In fact, he is credited with converting most of the country there from his missionary center of the Isle of Iona, where he founded his most influential monastery and scriptorium. Now, one may wonder how this good Irish lad found himself on a croggy rock so far from home. Well, you see, the worst thing that Columba ever did was really bad. Now, it didn't start out that way at first. And indeed, for us, the worst thing we ever did may not have started as something big. It might have started off as something small, maybe even innocent. Something that we just think of as like a small lie, a small flirtation, a small bit of theft that maybe no one notices. One bet here, one drink there. Whatever it may be, it could start off small. In Columba's case, it was one psalm, one book of Psalms. You see, Columba had trained under the best of the best Saint, Finnian, who taught some of the most influential saints of all of Ireland's history. Columba, who had been born in 1521, had been given the name. His name at first was named Crimathian, which means fox. But when he took his monastic vows under Finnian, he took the name Commencile, or Columba, which is the Latin version, which means dove of the church. Clearly, Finnian had a big impact on Columba. But even though he took that moniker, it was clear that the fox still had hold of his heart. Because one day, when Columba was still with Finnian, he learned of the beautiful illuminated Psalter book that Finnian was keeping for his monks to read but never to copy. It was even chained to the wall of the monastery so that people could pray with it, but that the precious work of devotion and art would never leave the building. Columba did not agree with this, to say the least. He decided, disobeying his own spiritual father, that it would be harmless to sneak into the room at night and to copy the Psalter himself by hand. He disregarded the relationship that they had and used the training Finian had given him himself for his own selfish desires. Now, you may be thinking, that's no big deal. You may even side with Columba on this one. Shouldn't the word of God be given to as many people as possible? Perhaps. But, friends, please notice that for what it is, what it probably was to Columba, a justification. Somewhere in the story of the worst thing that we have ever done, we might notice a pattern, some small infraction to start that we tend to have a justification for. I deserve it. I never have enough. Everybody always has so much more. I Never felt love or appreciated. I need to just turn off the world and feel numb for a while. It's just a little lie, just a little cheat, just a little way to get ahead. And what I'm doing isn't nearly as bad as what other people may be doing. These are justifications. And it can build like that old adage, oh, what a tangle webbed we weave when first we practice to deceive. Right? One small infraction leads to one small justification, which can lead to another. In Columbus story, when Finian found out, he was furious. He demanded that the copy be given back, which Columba refused. I imagine that this was both maddening and heartbreaking for Finian. This person whom he loved and had trained and was a spiritual father to was now deceiving and stealing and fighting with him. And the relationship was beginning to erode. But Columba did what so many of us do. I know I'm guilty of this. He doubled down. He clung to the psalter, the way many of us cling to our habits, our patterns, our sins. And he took the matter to the High King. Columba himself was royalty when he was born, so he still had sway in the country. But the king decided with Finian. Now again, remember your story. Was there a moment when you could have stopped, when you reached a moment of no return, but kept going where you went further than you expected that you would? Now remember, you didn't get to that line all at once. It was often a series of small decisions or rationalizations that brought us to that point. But when we got to that point, we were now primed to make the choice that we would not think ourselves possible of making. For Columba, this was that moment. He could have given back the book. He could have apologized, he could have stayed in Ireland and kept on his missionary work. But instead he sought his own self righteousness. He went to his other powerful relatives and started a bloody battle over the Psalter. 3,000 people died in that battle. 3,000 people. I don't know what the worst thing you have ever done is, But I doubt 3,000 people died because of it. He got the book back, but he was horrified. He had, looking over the battlefield, a prodigal son moment where he came back to himself, where he realized this was not who he was, that this loss of life over a book, really over his pride and his selfishness, his sin, well, this was the worst thing he had ever done. Now, return to your story. Was there a moment like that for you? A prodigal moment. Maybe it's happening right now in real time, or maybe it happened in years past. But was there a moment when you woke up to the depth of what all that stuff, that human broken stuff, actually costs you and others? Was there a moment of clarity in your story? If Columbo were here today, I think he would likely tell us to thank God for that moment, for that clarity. He would likely tell us that this moment of awakening is a salvation. And not just for him alone or for us alone, but for everybody in our lives. I think he would tell us that the worst things that we have ever done, the worst things that he ever did, is not the whole story, at least doesn't have to be. For Columba, his heart turned from pride, revenge, self righteousness, greed, and he repented. You can see it actually at this very moment in the stained glass window at the back of our church. I know you can't get up and take a look at it right now, but let me describe it to you. You can look at it after the church. Saint Columbus stands in all of the scenes, but proudly, right in the middle of this beautiful window. And the medallion under the central image shows a devil, a scroll, St. Columba and an angel. The devil seems to be reaching for Columba's Achilles heel. This is the place where he and us are most vulnerable. Metaphorically, for Columba, this would have been perhaps his pride, his greed, his self assuredness. Even without the psalter, something would have plagued him, something would have tempted him. And the same is true for us in our lives. So when we are tempted by things, this is a chance for us to learn our patterns, what tempts us, what takes us to that line where we're willing to give just a little too much. Then there's the manuscript, the salter that caused all this bloodshed. And then there's Columba crying in the lap of an angel, weeping over what he has done. He then went into exile for the rest of his life. And you can see that also in our image where he is sailing to Ireland, vowing never to let his eyes fall upon the isle. Ireland again. He set sail for Scotland and he founded Iona at the first place he landed, where he could no longer see his beloved homeland. Now go back to your own story. This step, this repentance, this turning your face to a new way of life and sailing towards it, this is an important one. Columbus shows us true repentance and amendment of life is possible. He could have stayed self righteous. He could have held on to that book. He could have turned that moment into something where he gave up his vows, lamenting that there must not be anything godly left in him. But he didn't. Instead, he turned the worst moment of his life into the turning point which dictated his entire life with God. From that point on, giving his life back to God, he began to work miracles. You should read some of the stories about this guy. It's fascinating. He was even said to have the power of resurrection. He went on to found monasteries and churches all over Scotland and converted the land. He even brought writing books, the talent that he had first used wrongly. He brought that skill to be consecrated over to God's use and now was bringing the word of God everywhere he went to finish his story. That's actually a big part of his ministry was scribing. He would spend his talents mostly working on the gospels. But interestingly, on the day he died, he was transcribing the psalms again. He was back to doing the thing that started it all. But now it was for God's glory. Now it was part of his prayer and witness. He was said to have brought more than those 3,000 souls that he lost that day on the battlefield back to God. With his work of preaching and zeal and miracle working, he turned the worst thing he ever did that death. He let it turn him from the heart of a fox into a dove, finally. And we would not be here today as this church, without his witness, without that transformation. Repentance is not just an exercise in feeling bad about the worst thing you've ever done, Wallowing in your sin and just leaving it there. It's about letting it be a turning point. In our gospel reading today, picked for the feast of Columba, we hear Jesus say that with the Holy Spirit we'll be able to handle deadly snakes and scorpions and not die of their bite. That demons will submit to us and that the power of the enemy will not hurt us. One way to interpret this is that even when we are at our worst, when it seems like evil, the evil that we're capable of even shocks us. That it doesn't have to be the end of the story, that it can be the turning point of our life. It takes cooperation with the Holy Spirit to see the pattern and break it, to admit when we are wrong and setting our face to a new life. It takes working with God to fashion it into a resurrection of our own making with the Holy Spirit. But it can be done. We may never help to convert a whole nation, but we can learn to change our lives and our part of the world. Today we have our feast to celebrate this incredible saint, the fox, who finally learned how to handle his own snakes and scorpions in his soul and with God's help, become the dove. When we come to the time of confession in a few moments, dwell with it. Let it wash over you. Let it be a time to take the memory you've been sitting with today and ask God to change it, to not let it be the majority of your story, but rather the turning point. Let the worst thing lead to the new thing. May this feast day be one that we give thanks for, Columba, for stories that don't just end at the worst part, for a God that helps us transform everything, even our own hearts. So on this feast day, I will end with Columba's own words, his own penitential prayer that we may make it our own. He wrote this rule, this heart of mine. O swift God of the elements, that you may be my love, that I may do your will, may it be so. Amen.