Years ago Bishop Noser moved on to make way for a black bishop in Accra, in Ghana, Africa; he was sent to Papua New Guinea. He was there only a few months when, on a confirmation tour in the area close to his center, he was directed by the people to cross a valley to a gathering to which he was invited. There in his presence, one of the men ceremoniously beheaded another — cut his head off. This was to be an offering to expedite the coming of better times to the country, opening the door for the coming of Cargo, that is, the summation of all the European had and stood for. The Bishop, of course, was aghast. This is not how you bring it about, this strange mix of blood and sacrificial death, Christ and a victim, a simple people confronted with a new world that bewildered them.

I sometimes fear for my salvation when I consider how most of the world lives and how I live. When this country and its peers ride so high on the hog, have so much, while most of the world has so little, the gross injustice of it puts my salvation in jeopardy, for I am surely involved.

 "If you cannot be entrusted with money, that tainted thing, who will trust you with genuine riches? And if you cannot be trusted with what is not yours, who will give you what is your own?"

I hear you. I hear you very well.

My nephew came to visit me last week. We are not close enough to talk all day, so we go see things in the area. We saw local shrines: Fort Knox, the Gold Depository, Maker's Mark. At the one a great gathering of military tanks as huge as semis. Near to it the temple for the gold, isolated in reverent awe, heart of the capitalist enterprise. And then the center of a spiritual life of another kind, for this is Bourbon country. And mid-way between, this abbey. And what it says. What it means.

It is a startling juxtaposition, a bringing together of disparate issues. Does this house amount to no more than a futile gesture like cutting off a man's head in order to bring about a more just world, a more equitable sharing of this world's goods?

No, I don't think so. It is not a futile gesture in the night.

For one thing, there are many poor Americans. If there is gross poverty in most lands, we have it too. That explains nothing, excuses nothing.

In the midst of our teeming glut, there is want. And if we trust in the power of war, that is not the whole story. And in the midst of phoney spirit there is genuine love for God and a search for a real spiritual life. That cannot be denied. And I am not about to say it is meaningless.

The salvation of the world was achieved by One Man nailed to a tree in the presence of His Mother and one disciple. And I presume to think it was pouring rain and so the scene made utterly desolate.

Prayer is not meaningless. Nor useless. Perhaps going without butter on your bread has a certain charming innocence about it; the love of the heart and a commitment to God are not mere charming innocence. Nor are monks the only ones interested.

We cannot go by appearances. That many do not flock to monasteries does not mean that monasteries fail. It means that in an age of little faith, few have vision.

All the more reason, then, for those endowed with faith to take courage, keep joy, trust in God, carry on. We do not do gross rites to express what is in our hearts. We need great faith. And do it. And hope for Heaven for us all. It is more than small comfort to know now already that the poor of the earth shall rejoice in a glory far greater than any we shall experience. And we shall rejoice in that as only fair and right. We shall be blessed to be there at all. And take joy in the final glory of the least on earth.   Amen.