Easter Sunday Sunday, April 12, 2020

First Reading: Acts 10:34-43

or Jeremiah 31:1-6

New Testament: Colossians 3:1-4

or Acts 10:34-43

Gospel: John 20:1-18

or Matthew 28:1-10

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

“Why are you weeping?”

Jesus (from John 20)

Early and dark, Mary Magdalene went to the burial place of Jesus and found it different than she expected. It was as if she thought God to be on a time table and certain that God’s power is suspended and thwarted by tragedy and grief.

As Mary moves through her grief to the space in the Earth where Jesus would be contained, she finds the sepulcher vacated and her empty feelings of loss multiplied as the Unexpected One comes and speaks to Mary with in her grief.  Her tears, cries, and emotional pain are all impacted upon Jesus, who subsequently calls her by name, and renders the impact of these forces void.

Resurrection Sunday suspends my feelings of tragedy and grief similarly, as I am invited to reengage again with the One who conquers all of the “bad,” imperfect, traumatic injustices of this world. I am reminded yet again that it is within the dark, damp tombs that God provides dynamic wombs for new life and living, always!

We must continue to turn from our old ideas, old expectations, and former traditions that have sufficed, and totally consider, embrace, and imbibe the invigorating, ubiquitous way of the Kingdom of Jesus Christ. Jesus will wipe away our tears when we chose to turn (repent) from anguish and anxiety to clarity and wholeness.

We too, like Mary, can enjoy, not just today, but for the next 50 days the new vision within and without, so we can proclaim we have seen the Lord, too. I am convinced that in the Resurrection encounter with Mary, Jesus gives and makes her solely the Church’s only one who is a witness to the resurrection and the Resurrected One. Had it not been for Mary’s tears and turning she would have missed this glorious moment.

Let us with haste consider our tears and listen for Jesus to calls us away and out of our blindness into the eternal hope of Easter. God shall wipe away all tears from our eyes, and Resurrection Sunday is the certainty that Jesus has already begun to do so.

Happy Easter!

The Rev. Dr. Tommie L. Watkins, Jr.

Holy Saturday Saturday, April 11, 2020

Old Testament: Job 14:1-14

or Lamentations 3:1-9, 19-24

New Testament: 1 Peter 4:1-8

Gospel: Matthew 27:57-66

or John 19:38-42

Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16

Muslim cosmologists described a universe between the zenith, its highest possible point, and its counterpart, the nadir, the lowest possible point in the universe. Today, we relive the lowest point in our remembered history as Christians — the day that our crucified Lord lay dead in a borrowed tomb. 

Today evokes memories of two days when I stood in the tomb of Jesus. Pilgrims to the Holy Land quickly learn to distinguish between the places where events happened and the places where these events have been remembered by pilgrims for ages. 

In the diminishing Christian Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem, I stood in a queue of UN soldiers waiting before the towering structure in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher — waiting to stand for a moment in the ancient sepulcher remembered as the tomb of Christ since Constantine. At the bottom of the stairs, illuminated by dozens of candles, a stone slab covered the ancient tomb. 

Years later, with a group of tourists, I went to a garden on a hill outside the walled city. In the late nineteenth century, General Gordon decided that this hill, overlooking the Old City across the central bus terminal, was actually Calvary — Golgotha. An ancient tomb, resembling the description in the Gospels, was named the Garden Tomb. After an unhurried look into the old rock cut tomb, we gathered for a Presbyterian sermon preached in a proper Scotch accent.

More important, in the rhythm of our liturgy, we stand at this nadir every year — now, on this day, in the midst of chaos and conflict. The lesson from Job echoes our darkest anxiety: “A human that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble.” In such a world, Job’s only prayer on behalf of humankind is “turn your eyes from us, leave us alone, like a hired laborer, to finish our day in peace.”

However dark our present reality is, as this day moves to sunset and then to the rise of a new day, St. Paul’s words from the epistle for the burial of the dead undergird us for all tomorrows: “Neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

The Rev. Dr. Roy Wells

Good Friday Friday, April 10, 2020

Friday, April 10, 2020 Good Friday

Old Testament: Isaiah 52:13-53:12

New Testament: Hebrews 10:16-25

or Hebrews 4:14-16; 5:7-9

Gospel: John 18:1-19:42

Psalm 22

Almighty God, we pray you graciously to behold this your family, for whom our Lord Jesus Christ was willing to be betrayed, and given into the hands of sinners, and to suffer death upon the cross; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP 221)

Good Friday is not the end of the story. 

We know that Easter is coming bringing resurrection. I wonder if that knowledge doesn’t lead us into the theological trap of thinking that Jesus is only present with us somewhere in the future instead of right now or that we have to endure pain or sorrow or despair alone. Perhaps, the best way to understand the message of this day when Jesus “was willing to be betrayed, and given into the hands of sinners, and to suffer death upon the cross” is to try to forget that we know Sunday is coming.

Those who witnessed the events of the Passion could only have known despair. As far as they knew, that Friday was the end. Their hope had been nailed to a Roman cross. Uncomfortable as it my be, entering into the grief of Mary the Mother of Our Lord, the Beloved Disciple, Mary Magdalene, Joseph of Arimathea, and Peter rather than jumping ahead to the joy of the resurrection can teach a valuable lesson. On the worst days we can imagine, during our most painful experiences, Christ draws especially near to suffer with us, to grieve with us, even to angrily pray the Psalms with us crying out as often as necessary, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Jesus has been where we are, and his presence makes all the difference. He sustains us. He helps us to endure. He teaches us to hope even on the worst day. Above all, the presence of the Risen Christ reminds us of the one thing that it may be easiest to forget when all we can see is grief, pain, anger, and despair. 

Good Friday is not the end of the story.  

The Rev. Jeff Evans

Maunday Thursday Thursday, April 9, 2020

Old Testament: Exodus 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14

New Testament: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

Gospel: John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

“Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” John 13:34

In high school, I once missed soccer practice to acolyte on Maundy Thursday. One of my friends thought I was making up some fictitious holy day. As I walked out of school, he protested, “That’s not a real thing! You’re making it up. What’s Monday Thursday?” I remember mumbling some reply about the Last Supper. Today, I’d like a chance to redo my response.

Maundy (not Monday) Thursday comes from the Latin word mandatum. It means commandment, and from that root we get the word “mandate.” On this day, always the Thursday before Easter Sunday, we begin the holiest days of our Christian year (the Triduum or Three Days) by celebrating Jesus’ new commandment for us. What was Christ Jesus’ commandment? “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”

On Maundy Thursday, we remember Jesus’ words to love one another, but more importantly we recall and rehearse his actions. On this night, the whole Church universal will take part in the embarrassing act of servanthood that is washing one another’s feet — just like Jesus did. What might be the most powerful aspect of Jesus’ action though gets left out of our selected text from John. 

In John 13:30, we read that Judas was at supper with Jesus, received a piece of bread from him, and left to go betray him. This means that Judas was present earlier in the evening during the foot washing. This means that Jesus stooped down and washed Judas’ feet. This means that on top of humbling himself to the place of a servant, Jesus did this for his betrayer. Come to think of it, all of Jesus’ disciples, in the end, deserted him. While Jesus lovingly serving these misfits might shock us, it is overwhelmingly good news! 

Our Lord’s humiliating act of servanthood wasn’t meant simply for ones who persevere. It wasn’t only for the followers who got it right or stuck with it. Instead, Jesus modeled a radical love for us — one that included him loving betrayers, deserters, and enemies. Then on top of that, he commanded us to love everyone in that same way PERIOD. Yes, love your family, friends, and neighbors. But, also love your betrayers and deserters, the cowards and the losers, the unloving and the unloveables. Love EVERYONE! That’s what this day is all about.

It’s the day when we remember Jesus’ love by taking part in the same embarrassing act he did. It’s the day when we see Jesus model what radical, inclusive, self-giving love looks like. It’s the day when Jesus commanded us to love everyone — even our most bitter enemy — in the same way he did, by becoming a servant of one another. Just as Jesus has loved us, we should love one another. By this everyone will know that we are Christ’s followers, if we have love for one another.

The Rev. Seth Olson

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 50:4-9a
New Testament: Hebrews 12:1-3
Gospel: John 13:21-32
Psalm 70

“… Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.” Hebrews 12:1

A pioneer is someone who goes ahead into unexplored country; this is dangerous business. I don’t have any experience trekking across large swaths of wilderness, but I did grow up playing Oregon Trail in elementary school computer lab and I can tell you many are the perils that beset my digital family. From typhus and smallpox to bears, robbers, and floods it took a stalwart third grader to navigate that game of strategy. In real life, not every pioneering expedition ended up like the Donner Party, but we can bet that they were almost always difficult.
However, the challenges of pioneering life had an impact: when brave pioneers opened new lands others soon felt emboldened enough to follow and make a life for themselves. Jesus is our pioneer; He goes ahead of us — through his sacrifice He goes ahead of us into the future and beyond death. When we are brave enough to follow Him, we find that with every step on our earthly pilgrimage we trust more and more that He is guiding us to the fullness of life. And with each act of trust our imperfect faith is being perfected through Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith.


The Rev. Geoff Evans

Tuesday, April 7, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 49:1-7

New Testament: 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

Gospel: John 12:20-36

Psalm 71:1-14

“Consider your own call, brothers and sisters….”  1 Corinthians 1: 26

So, here we are at Tuesday in Holy Week. The church this week focuses much of its energy on the events that once took place in Jerusalem. Jesus was in the holy city. Many of his friends were also there. They were daily visiting the Temple mount. Jerusalem was filling with people coming from all over Israel/Palestine and much of the Mediterranean area. 

The high holy days are again coming soon for both Jews and Christians. And so, in our own faith tradition, it might be the right time for us to pause for a few moments for spiritual reflection on this Holy Tuesday by listening to the words of Paul the Apostle… words spoken long ago to the small Christian house church in Corinth. These are also words to be spoken to the small parish of St. Andrew’s this holy week. So, let us listen to these words for just a few moments.

Paul the Apostle wrote to the church in Corinth… “Consider your own call, brothers and sisters.” Paul went on to say that most of the people would not consider themselves to be wise or powerful or even noble. But, he told the people that God had indeed chosen the foolish and the weak and the despised and the lowly to walk with God. And Paul reminded the small church in Corinth that God was the source of life in Jesus Christ, the very same source for all of our wisdom.

Now, consider your own call… that is something important to think about today. What is your call? What is the call for each and every one of us? Where are we today and how did we get to where we are now? How do we pray and what might we say to the God of Jesus? When do we keep silent so that the God of Jesus can speak to us? These are the questions that we might reflect on today when we think about our own call from God. While each of our calls are different, each of us are equal before the face of God. Each of our calls have come at a different time in our lives, but each call deserves the same value. Each of our calls might be viewed by others in a different manner, but each call carries with it the same worth. Some of us might sit up front and near the altar and seen by all while others sit in the back of the church and noticed by a very few. Did Jesus not tell us that “the first shall be last and the last shall be first.” (Matt. 20:16)

It is all of the calls by God that form the spiritual foundation of the community which we call the parish church. Authentic calls from God never divides the faith community, but rather any authentic call strengthens the entire faith community. This Holy Week is a good time for each of us to think about our own perceived call from the God of Jesus and how we can embrace our call from within the midst of our worshipping community.

God speaks to us all in very different ways but the voice of God is never far from any of us throughout our entire lives. Listen for the call of the God of Jesus that is coming our way. It is a gift not just for you or me, but also for the entire community in which we live our spiritual lives.

“Consider your own call, my brothers and sisters.”   

     

 (Note: The term “God of Jesus” is a term used by Henri Nouwen in his book, Home Tonight, Further Reflections on the Parable of the Prodigal Son.)                

The Rev. Bill King

Monday, April 6, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 42:1-9

New Testament: Hebrews 9:11-15

Gospel: John 12:1-11

Psalm 36:5-11

“Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” John 12:7

We are now at the start of a slowly unfolding Holy Week. As a community, and individually, we have gone through five long weeks of Lent. At Ash Wednesday services, Fr. Tommie invited us, using words of our Book of Common Prayer, to “the observance of a holy Lent by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.”

Some of us went through lengthy introspection. Some of us rued our bad habits and recognized downright wrongdoings. Some of us prayed, fasted, and gave up (or took on) foods, drinks, actions, or certain people. Some of us pondered scripture. Some of us did all of this. Some of us did none.

No matter the preparation or lack of it, we are all steadily moving toward the Crucifixion. John’s reading for today tells the story of Jesus’s visit to the home of Lazarus when Judas Iscariot scolds Mary for anointing her master’s feet with an entire pound of pure, expensive perfume. Jesus rebukes him saying, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial.”

Jesus’s beating, hanging on the cross, brutal death, and committal: Holy Week has a dark solemness, a deep sadness, an overwhelming heartache to it. Intellectually, we know we will come out through the gloom to a glorious Resurrection. But it doesn’t feel that way now in our hearts or guts.

Startlingly, the other readings for this day are joyful. Isaiah says (like our Stewardship theme), “See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare.” Hebrews 9:14 exhorts, “Christ’s blood [the very blood about to be spilled] will purify our conscience from dead works to worship the living God.” And Psalm 36 remind us that God is the well of life, in God’s light we see light, and God’s love reaches to the heavens. Somehow, say these passages, God always wins. Our view of Reality may be limited, but God’s sight is expansive, eternal.

As The Most Rev. Michael Curry said in his 2017 Easter message, “Jesus came to show us there is another way. The way of unselfish, sacrificial love. That’s why he entered Jerusalem. That’s why he went to the cross. It was the power of that love poured out from the throne of God, that even after the horror of the crucifixion would raise him from death to life… That not even the titanic powers of death can stop the love of God. On that Easter morning, he rose from the dead, and proclaimed: love wins.”

Barbara Sloan

Palm Sunday Sunday, April 5, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 50:4-9a

New Testament: Philippians 2:5-11

Gospel: Matthew 26:14 - 27:66

or Matthew 27:11-54

Psalm 31:9-16

Jesus triumphant entry into Jerusalem was a perfect moment of civil disobedience. He entered through the same gate as the victorious generals of the Roman army but instead of a golden chariot with a prancing stallion and marching soldiers he came riding on a donkey led in procession by the poor, the outcast, the unwanted. They cast palm leaves before him because these were available to those who could not buy the flowers that would have lined the path of the Roman leaders. Jesus came as a “man of the people”…. no power to wield… no social status to demand attention. He was the Son of God but his glory was not revealed in power rather in humility and love. He tried to remind the people of God’s desire to be with them… intimately, compassionately, immediately accessible. Immanuel… God with us. 

In that moment of Jesus’s grand entry into the City, he embodied all of the desperate hope of those who followed him. They had waited for generations for God’s chosen Deliverer to come and here he was… the means of their liberation from years of oppression. The people projected on Jesus all of their expectations for a militant Messiah who would lead their revolution. The spectacle of this charismatic man welcomed by cheering crowds of those who existed at the fringes of society… the bottom rungs of the social ladder must have caused terror to rise in the hearts and minds of those in power, both the religious and political leaders.  

But the structures of authoritarian society can be indomitable, held in place by the power of the oppressors and the accepted powerlessness of the oppressed. In a brief moment the shouts of joyful “Hosanna” became angry, cries of “Crucify him.” This Messiah was just another in a long line of disappointments. He did not rally the people to strike against the powerful. Rather he spoke of his own death… of sacrifice…. of the true cost of love. He spoke of peace to a people who craved violence. He spoke of forgiveness to a people who wanted vengeance. God had come among them but he was not as they expected him to be, so they rejected his message of hope and transformation. 

We live in a time of social chaos… an age of political and religious polarization…. of disinformation and a narcissistic obsession with being famous. Jesus’s lessons of humility… of self-sacrifice…. of unconditional love are either unappreciated or perverted into a false religion where wealth and power are considered evidence of God’s approval. We still attempt to create a Messiah in our own image… We want the emotional high of that grand parade but turn away from the suffering servant as he makes his way to Golgotha.

My prayer is that as the Church gathers together to remember this day… as we wave our palms and sing our hymns of praise… that with eyes and hearts wide open, we truly perceive the man who leads us…. in all of his humility… his sacrifice… his love. And that we have the faith and the strength to continue to follow him… even when the crowds have dispersed and the shouting has ceased … and we stand on a lonely hill in the shadow of a Cross.

The Rev. Robyn Arnold

Saturday, April 4, 2020

Old Testament: Ezekiel 37:21–28

Gospel: John 11:45–53

Psalm 85:1–7

“I will make them one.” Ezekiel 37:22

Since Christmas I have sung my child to sleep with the sweet Advent hymn, “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” I do not know all 7 verses, so I take my lyrical liberties with faith that the Creator of all allows some creative work on my end. Of all the verses though, it is the 7th that touches my heart every time: 

O come, O king of nations, bind 

in one the hearts of all mankind.

Bid all our sad divisions cease

and be yourself our King of Peace. 

It seems odd leading up to Holy Week that our reading from Ezekiel would harken back to lyrics from this classic Advent hymn. Ezekiel’s prophecy involves gathering a divided people into one as God saves them “from all the apostasies into which they have fallen, and will cleanse them. Then they shall be my people, and I will be their God.” 

It feels difficult to hold this encouraging and reassuring text next to today’s Gospel reading where Caiaphas calls for the killing of Jesus almost flippantly. Who is helping to “bid all our sad divisions cease” and where has the “King of Peace” gone? Following the bright high of Jesus raising his dear friend, Lazarus from the dead (right before today’s text), the Gospel has taken a dark and fearful dip. What now?

As we walk into Holy Week, may we intentionally enter together, laying down our sad divisions, remembering our hearts are tightly knit together in God, our King of Peace.

Kimberly Meuth Olson

Friday, April 03, 2020

Old Testament: Jeremiah 20:7–13

Gospel: John 10:31–42

Psalm 18:1–7

The gospel for today delves straight into the fire of what it means to inhabit (and be inhabited by) God. Jesus tells the men with stones to “believe the works” even if they cannot believe in their divinity. He is making a case for wonder and awe as a vehicle into faith. 

For how can we believe miracles without being enticed by the miraculous? How can we speak of Christ without tumbling into poetry?

Undevastated Sanctus

with Simone Weil

Because winter arrives. 

Advent’s parched undertow

humbles herself, mid-throat. 

Table set for a fist of white iris. 

If liberty is this ability 

to choose, I lack formal instruction. 

Hobbled by swollen tonsils, I watch 

the season’s intimate malefice reorder the room. 

Ignore the song for the sight 

of mother wren assembling a nest 

without socialization: 

I don’t know how we know. 

Or whether. 

Success: too frail 

a construct for the weight of life 

breaking open. 

A beak’s silence shawls me. 

We stake so much on what 

seems natural.

And who can believe

a black bear gives birth 

to live cubs without 

waking from sleep?

Alina Stefanescu Coryell

Thursday, April 2, 2020

Old Testament: Genesis 17:1-8

Gospel: John 8: 51-59

Psalm 105

“...The fact is, before Abraham was born, I AM.”  John 8:58

I AM who I am, with no beginning and no end. It is I (God). I AM that I am (God). I AM is God, the Great I AM.

I AM is a subject and a verb. A linking verb, it links “I am” to (fill in the blank).

I am that I am. I am who I am. I am God. So who are we, you and I? We should recognize who we are at our beginning and our end with the great I AM.

We are chosen. We are God’s children. We are loved. We are forgiven. We are born of the great I AM. We are given much, and all he asks is that we obey his commandments.

I will give you this land forever, and I will be your God. Genesis 17:8.

How is it possible to obey his commandments when life is so very hard? It is possible because we were born of the great I AM. We need only? to

Depend on the Lord for strength (and to) always go to him for help.  Psalm 105:4.

He is ours at our beginning and our end. He is I AM.

Faye Knopf

Wednesday, April 1, 2020

Old Testament: Daniel 3:14–20, 24–28

Gospel: John 8:31–42

Canticle [2] or 13

“Nebuchadnezzar said to them, ‘Is it true, O Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, that you do not serve my gods and you do not worship the golden statue that I have set up?’” Daniel 3:14 

I’m compelled to begin this meditation with an account of how my cousins’ dog came to be named Nebs. The name Nebs came from a character in today’s reading, King Nebuchadnezzar. My cousins, aunt, and uncle weren’t regular churchgoers. They lived out in the country, but somehow came to know this Old Testament story and were impressed by the King’s name. My aunt Martha is the likeliest candidate for the name choice. 

After I had read the passage a few times, I began to be impressed with The King as well. From what we know, he had total power in the land, and with considerable ego had ordered a gigantic gold statue to be made which would serve the need for pagan worship. So then this statue was placed in the plain of Dura in Babylon and King Nebs ordered his subjects to worship said statue, or else. I believe the statue was his alter-ego, and for the King, served his need for a sense of permanent adoration from his subjects. 

Enter Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, Jews who held positions of authority in Babylon and would be held to obedience of the order to bow before the gold statue. In fact, the king told them if they did not worship his likeness, they would be thrown into the fiery furnace. Word gets back to the King that Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego aren’t doing as ordered, and King Nebs has them brought in so he can make sure these valued fellows understand that the order applies to them, same as all the others. 

Well, you might know how this plays out: they refuse to follow the King’s order, are thrown into the furnace, heated seven times greater than is customary, and yet, are spared a burning death, protected by Yaweh. 

Here is the point that I am impressed with concerning the king. Humans with authoritarian inclination and powers do not appreciate being subjected to another power, especially one greater than their own. When King Nebs is faced with the disobedience of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego and is shown the saving power of Yaweh, he finds it possible to change his mind. What an amazing act of self-awareness this is! He saw the events that had transpired before his eyes, and accepted the reality that what he had come to believe about himself was not the final truth. He made room in his reality for something outside himself that he didn’t fully understand.

    I pray that, during Lent and ever after, we all may grow in self-awareness, becoming more conscious, leading us to greater compassion and peace. 

Roger Conville

Tuesday, March 31, 2020

Old Testament: Numbers 21:4–9

Gospel: John 8:21–30

Psalm 102:15–22

from John 8: 21-30

Entering into this text, we come into contact with Jesus’ humanity, divinity, and his unwavering commitment to his mission, as he engages in conversation with the Jews to whom he is speaking. Jesus is expressing his truest identity. He shared with those around him, that he knew then, what we know now will happen to Jesus, through the story of Scripture.

The Jewish people will find a way to kill him. They will accomplish this through Judas’ betrayal, which will lead to Jesus being handed over to the Roman Authorities to be crucified.

Jesus will commend his Spirit to His Father, while upon the cross. History will reveal that He was, and is the Son of God.

I may first be tempted to see this scriptural text as just a story, which is read in Church, or studied in a Bible Study. It is, however, what I understand to be the Living Word.

Make no mistake, Jesus was also killed, because his love extended to everyone, no matter what their faith tradition, human condition, or individual difference happened to be. He moved beyond comfort to total human inclusion of who God’s love was to be given. It was not to be restricted to a particular group of people.

My Brother Jesus commends me to actively identify with his radical mission of sacrificial love, and share it with my other brothers and sisters, even if it costs me my life, as I know it. I must, like him, depend upon God’s present and everlasting love for me.

This commission leads me to some ongoing internal questions that I will continue to discern through this Lenten season. Please join me in reflecting on them also.

How do I join my Brother Jesus, in the mission of radical love he commends me to live in my daily life, work, and ministry? 

How will I create and cultivate relational connections with my other brothers and sisters, which follow the commands of our Brother Jesus?

As I discern these questions I gain strength in the knowledge that Our Brother Jesus affirms that God is faithful. God will always speak to us beyond what the world completely understands because God is not of the world. Our Brother Jesus assures us that God will never leave us alone. It is with God’s help that we will faithfully carry out what God commissions us to do.  

Griffith Still

Monday, March 30, 2020

Old Testament: Susanna (Book of Daniel) [1–9,15–29,34–40],41-62

Gospel: John 8:1–11 or John 8:12–20

Psalm 23

Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for his Name’s sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

What part of the 23rd psalm do you remember most?

Arthur: The green pasture. A pasture only has good things. Good places. Good things. Like no poisonous snakes. ‘at’s because only good snakes will be there. No poison ivy or bugs either. 

George: I remember the dark valley part. That’s the part with Jesus. He gives you power that you could need in that part. 

What about the shepherd?

George: A shepherd herds sheep and takes care of them. Maybe it’s like that: God takes care of us.

What do you think about “you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over”?

Arthur: Oil makes you holy, I think. About the cup, it sounds like you have plenty and more.

Or spreading a table before us?

Arthur: God will give you whatever you need. Like a drink or snack. It’ll just be there for you. 

What about living in house of the lord? What does that look like?

George: The church, of course. 

George and Arthur Glenn

Sunday, March 29, 2020

Old Testament: 37:1-14 

New Testament: Romans 8:6-11 

Gospel: John 11:1-45 

Psalm 130 

“I am the Resurrection and the Life”

While the New Testament is quite clear regarding the future resurrection of the body, it is, in point of fact, the Old Testament that lays the ground work for the New Testament teaching. This is, in particular, to be found in Ezekiel 37:1-4.

In this passage, God shows to Ezekiel a vision of the Valley of the Bones, and challenges Ezekiel to tell him if these bones can live. Although somewhat hesitant to answer, nevertheless, Ezekiel knows well that God (Yahweh) is capable of making the bones live. The God of Israel accomplishes this by breathing life into the bones, just as He had breathed life into Adam (Genesis 2:7). Of course, there was one major difference, seeing that Adam was new life, while the bones in Ezekiel were brought back to life, thus resurrected. Here, too, resurrection becomes a metaphor for the return of Israel, and to bring Israel out of captivity, in Babylon, and into the promised land.

In Ezekiel, there is also a hint at future bodily resurrection. But, in the New Testament this is reflected in the story of the raising of Lazarus. Martha reflects this belief in her response to Jesus regarding her brother Lazarus, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” (John 11:24). The doctrine of the resurrection was, therefore, not invented by the Apostles, but found in the teaching of the Old Testament.

In John’s Gospel (11:1-45), the account of the raising of Lazarus, although Jesus had previously raised up others, in none of these occurrences had the power of death fully taken place. And, although Lazarus is brought back to life, Jesus waits for four days to do so, thus not allowing this miracle to overshadow His own three day resurrection.

In fact, Jesus specifically waited for four days before going to Bethany to assure that there could be no question that Lazarus was dead and his body in a state of putrification.

So, why did Jesus act in this manner? He wanted to not only make it perfectly clear that Lazarus was dead, but, also, to use the raising of Lazarus as a perfect prefiguration of His own death and resurrection. It might even be said that it was essential that Lazarus die so that the faith of the disciples might also be raised from the dead.

Finally, the raising of Lazarus is also not just another miracle story of Jesus but, indeed, the beginning of our new life in the risen Christ. Alleluia, Alleluia.

Richard Thames

Saturday, March 28, 2020

Old Testament: Jeremiah 11: 19-20

Gospel: John 7: 37-52

Psalm 7: 6-11

When I started looking over the readings for today, I was troubled with the adversarial tone of all three. Enemies seemed to be everywhere and pleas for the destruction of them filled the verses. I know that we have to be wary of evil, but I prefer to be able to look for the good.

The Pharisees, like many in the establishment, are naturally suspicious of someone whose teachings make theirs seem petty and pettifogging. They refuse to acknowledge how the crowd is taking nourishment and encouragement from Jesus’ teachings. They berate the police who see no wrong in Jesus (a foreshadowing of what will happen at Jesus’ final Passover). They make fun of Nicodemus and accuse him of being a bad scholar — perhaps because they haven’t bothered to find out Jesus’ early origins. They look for the bad, not the good.

As I said, I prefer to look for the good in life, and there is good in the reading from John. We just have to shift the focus. There are many people willing to hear Jesus’ message of living water. The police are not just blindly following orders, but are listening and using their minds. Nicodemus, himself a Pharisee, has heard and believed Jesus. He defends him, insisting they follow their own rules about accusing people.

Sometimes, it seems very hard when one is surrounded by evil, to find the good in the world, but indeed it is there — there are always persons helping others in need, even the needy themselves helping those who need help. I work the greeting desk for St. Andy’s Pantry and more than once, 

people have come in saying they will need help filling out the forms. As I am about to direct them to one of our helpers, another one of our clients will speak up and say, “Come with me. I’ll help you.”

That is the true meaning of Christ’s ministry: “Come with me, I’ll help you” — either filling out a form or sharing the living waters of Christ. We just have to look for and work for the good in life.

Barbara Patterson

Friday, March 27, 2020

Old Testament: Wisdom 2:1a,12–24

Gospel: John 7:1–2,10,25–30

Psalm 34:15–22

Lord, are you trying to tell me something? Is this my time? How long, then, Lord Jesus, how long until it is near?

Lord, who or what will take hold of me and take me to where I belong?

Lord, make your purpose for me clear. Make it useful and make me a servant to that purpose in your name.

Lord, give me your guidance, speak to me and give me your counsel.

Lord, give me the backbone to do your work.

Lord, give me the soft compassion of your spirit.

Lord, I want to move with power, but also with love.

Perry Cox

Thursday, March 26, 2020

Old Testament: Exodus 32:7–14

Gospel: John 5:30–47

Psalm 106:6–7,19–23

“And the Lord changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people.” Exodus 32:14

“George Glenn, if I hear that bouncy ball one more time I am going to throw every round object in this house away!”

“Emmeline Glenn, if you leave all of your clothes all over the floor of your room, you can just not have anything clean for school and go in your pajamas!”

“Arthur Glenn, if you if you don’t put your bike back on the rack I am going to take the front wheel off for a week!”

And then the Mom changed her mind about the disaster that she had planned to bring on her children.

Because in George she saw her lack of planned activities in his boredom.

And because in Emmeline she saw her own lack of guidance on storage options in her messy room.

And because in Arthur she saw a mess in front of the bike rack hampering putting that bike away when he was excited to see his friends.

Dear Lord, help us to follow your example of backing off of our wrath and disaster-bringing.

And see George’s curiosity.

And Emmeline’s creativity.

And Arthur’s friendliness.

And our own ability to change.

AMEN

Elin Glenn

Wednesday, March 25, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 7:10-14

New Testament: Hebrews 10:4-10

Gospel: Luke 1:26-38

Psalm 45

or Psalm 40:5-11

or Canticle 15 (or 3)

It’s odd to think about the Annunciation during Lent. Just as we barrel head first toward the story of the end of Jesus’ short life…we’re transported back in time to the beginning. Back to the dream, the surprise, the invitation, the courage and the world-changing “Yes” with which it all started.  

I experienced my own private little Good Friday about nine months ago, when one of my best friends relapsed on drugs and we made the painful decision to close The Abbey’s coffee business. I’d invested an awful lot in that shop. I believed in the power of radical hospitality as a tool for building beloved community, and I was excited by the risk involved. I memorized all the health codes, I practiced latte art, I invested in the staff, and I lost sleep over the financials. On the last day, it was me who made the decision to “pull the plug.” I anointed the body, and laid our dream — temporarily — in its tomb.

A couple of weeks later, as I was sitting in that Abbey tomb, a man in his late 30s named Jeff came and joined me there. At first, he just wanted to help serve breakfast for the community (food and hospitality were Jeff’s love language). Then he started telling me more about his life, and his nine year old step-daughter who had died of cystic fibrosis twenty years ago. In the last few days of her life, Jeff offered to cook her anything she wanted to eat. She replied that she’d always wanted to try marijuana. Figuring it was harmless at this point, Jeff baked pot into everything he served her from then on. “She ate more in those last seven days than she had in the last seven months!” he proudly told me.  

Later, it occurred to me that, when his step daughter died, Jeff would have been about the age of Joseph of Nazareth at the time of the Annunciation. In the midst of pain and death, there is life and joy abundant. Jeff’s words, and the deep, holy connection created when sharing them with me, were as startling as cold water! I was sitting in an empty tomb, and the dream and vision lived on right outside it. Looking back, my entire understanding of God’s mission, has been transformed by the birth, life, death, and resurrection of The Abbey dream.  

If Mary knew what was coming on Thursday, Good Friday, and early Sunday morning, would she still have said, “Yes!” those 33 years ago? 

The Rev. Katie N. Rengers

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Old Testament: Ezekiel 47:1–9,12
Gospel: John 5:1–18
Psalm 46:1–8

“Shall we gather at the river
Where bright angel feet have trod?
With its crystal tide forever
Flowing by the throne of God?”
Robert Lowry, c. 1864

The image of a river, I suspect, takes up more than half of my brain’s synapses, as I’ve always viewed life as a river. I grew up on the Tennessee River, in Decatur, Alabama (actually, IN the Tennessee River a good bit of time). Our parents saw that my two brothers and I learned to swim at an early age. They encouraged us to water ski and swim competitively on our school teams. We had as our playground the backwaters of the river in the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge near our suburban home.
  My late husband Lynn Daniel was also acquainted with a river, the one near where his ancestors settled in 1820 in northeast Alabama in the foothills of Appalachia. Now called Little River, it was known by the native Americans as Wolf Creek. From the high falls on its northern end to the sunny shoals at the canyon mouth, where his ancestral property has become federal parkland, we were intimately familiar with this river. 
Life is one Big Flow. Sometimes we float. Sometimes we flail against the current. Of course, we are all at least 60 percent water, so I know I’m not the only one for whom the image and physical properties of water are powerful. In the Church, our baptism (death/rebirth) is an outward sign of an inward and spiritual grace, and its ritual is the beginning step in our spiritual journey as Christians. We are received into the fold of all other followers of Christ and make promises that will take a lifetime or more to carry out.
Ezekiel’s image is a delightful one: living water, crystal clear, with trees hanging with fruit on either side of its banks, flowing from the temple of God. I can see myself floating downstream in an inner tube, and that would be my idea of heaven. Splashing in the fountains of water that came down from the temple, yes, that would be me. The healing and cleansing properties of water are formidable, and the experience would be the ultimate refreshment. Just as Jesus healed the man at the pool of at the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem, my body will be restored to wellness. I look forward to rejoicing in the living water of Christ our Lord!

Martha Jane Patton

Monday, March 23, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 65:17–25

Gospel: John 4:43–54

Psalm 30:1–6,11–13

“Weeping may spend the night,

but joy comes in the morning.” Psalm 30:6

All the readings for this day are about sickness and health. This line from Psalm 30 really stood out to me because I usually sleep very well. But sometimes, I wake up and feel sad or sick. 

In the Gospel today, Jesus arrives in Galilee right after his first miracle of changing water into wine. A father comes to Jesus and says, “Come down before my little boy dies.” Jesus replies to him, “Go; your son will live.” And he heals the child from afar.

I recently had strep throat and I woke up crying in the night because I had a fever and felt so bad. I had a headache and muscle aches. I was sweating and felt nauseous. I went downstairs and woke up my Mom. She gave me Advil and some water, and I went back to bed. When I woke the next morning, my fever had broken, but my throat was very sore, so we went to the doctor.

Almost everyone in the world gets a fever at least once a year. Some fevers are mild, and some are very high, in the 104 - 108-degree range. I read an article from The Atlantic that says through most of history, fever was considered supernatural. People thought it came from the outside to torment the sick person. But really, it is just a rise in temperature, and a way for our body to tell us something is going on like a virus or bacteria attack. Fever can even get our immune system going and help burn off infections. But fever does make you feel terrible.

Back to the Gospel: The dad has faith that what Jesus tells him is true and that his son will live. Near home, his servants meet him with the news that his son is healed. He asks them when the boy began to recover, and they say the fever left him at the very time the man spoke to Jesus.

We don’t know what disease the boy had, or how Jesus cured him from such a distance. But we know it was his second great miracle.

Emmeline Glenn

Sunday, March 22, 2020

Old Testament: 1 Samuel 16:1-13

New Testament: Ephesians 5:8-14

Gospel: John 9:1-41

Psalm 23

When I was in first grade Sunday School my friends and I memorized Psalm 23 and I have never forgotten it. Psalm 23 is the most familiar of all the psalms, and well it should be. It teaches us to trust in God’s protection and provision for us. The two metaphors of the poem are God as shepherd and God as host. 

God is our shepherd and therefore we should want for nothing. I have never tended sheep, but I understand that they are not very smart and must have a protector to keep them safe. King David, the credited writer of this poem, was a shepherd himself so he was very acquainted with tending sheep. So we, like the sheep, are led to rest in green pastures by still waters, where we are protected and safe. I imagine myself in this idyllic setting and my soul feels revived. It is the perfect place to be. It makes me want to be guided in right pathways.

I know that the psalms were written for ancient Hebrews in their worship, and I do not want to take the poem out of context. But, it speaks to me, today, in my life, and I think it is appropriate to use it for my worship, too. Psalm 23 is read at both Jewish and Christian funerals, and though it is a reflection on loss, I think it is much more for the living. The common translation “the valley of the shadow of death” is better rendered  “the valley of deep darkness.” Most people have experienced the valley of deep darkness. I certainly have. Whether it is clinical depression, great loneliness, or other terrible pains of this life, both mental and physical, we can identify with the debilitating emptiness of deep darkness. But Psalm 23 tells us not to fear this evil, because God is with us. He even offers comfort with his rod and staff, the shepherd’s tools of protection. The rod was a sturdy club to use against wild animals who would otherwise prey on the sheep. The shepherd’s staff with its crook on the end guided the sheep and pulled them away from danger. I am glad that Episcopal bishops carry this wonderful symbol.

The center point of the psalm is God’s saving presence “for you are with me.” The psalmist now speaks in the second person. He is no longer speaking about God, but instead is speaking to God. I have read about Fred Shuttlesworth, our Birmingham hero. I wish I had met him because he is the bravest man I know of.  He was utterly fearless. He said that he knew that God was with him and would protect him. I bet that Fred Shuttlesworth had Psalm 23 memorized. My husband Jack is fearless, too. God protected him in the days of his civil rights law cases when his life was threatened, and has continued to protect him. As He does for Jack and  Fred Shuttlesworth, our gracious host offers us a table in the presence of those who trouble us. God prepares for us a meal of good things to eat, anoints our heads with oil, and gives us an overflowing cup of wine, the symbol of abundance. These three provisions are all we need for a happy life. 

In verse 6 is the great Hebrew “hesed,” a word hard to translate in English. Hesed is God’s goodness and mercy, His steadfast love, His zeal, grace and compassion.  Hesed will follow us all the days of our lives and we will dwell in God’s house for as long as we live. In this house we are secure, safe, and in harmony with the divine God. Today in our materialistic and narcissistic society, this poem’s theme speaks loudly. Though we think our needs are great, they are not. God is our shepherd and our host and we have need of nothing else.

Rebecca Drake

Saturday, March 21, 2020

Old Testament: Hosea 6:1–6

Gospel: Luke 18:9–14

Psalm 51:15–20

“Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” Luke 18:9 (NRSV)

The Gospel appointed for today is a familiar one. Jesus, speaking to some who were self-righteous, popped their happy little bubble (if they listened to Him) by talking about a tax collector and a Pharisee praying in the Temple. The tax collector admits he is a sinner and cries out to God for forgiveness, while the Pharisee looks on him with contempt, and spends his time in prayer thanking God he is better than that sinner. Jesus concludes that the tax collector/sinner went home justified with God while the Pharisee, sure in his self-righteousness, did not.

It is easy to see who we are in this parable when we look at it. We are the tax collector, of course. We recognize our sin and come before God humbly asking for forgiveness. The Pharisee is easy to locate, too, as our culture provides lots of examples, from people who asked for forgiveness once long ago, and are now focused like a laser beam on the sin and depravity they see in others. Beyond that, we even have a major figure who claims not to have asked for forgiveness because he has never done anything that needs forgiving.

I wonder, though. There’s more than one way to be self-righteous, and patting ourselves on the back about our brokenness before God and our prayers for forgiveness may just be another way. You see, we don’t know what that horrid Pharisee will do tomorrow. Perhaps, we wail for our sins in an entirely pro forma way. We may be the self-satisfied, self-righteous ones in the story, because while we acknowledge our sin, when was the last time we really felt the pain and even horror that our sin has caused, not primarily to us, maybe, but to those around us? And, we may be seeing the self-righteous Pharisee the day before he is seized with repentance and beats his breast in his distress at his sins. Or he may never do that. But the real question isn’t about the sinner distressed with his sins. No, we must cease measuring ourselves against either the tax collector or the Pharisee and instead ask ourselves, “Where is our distress at our sin?”

Ed Higginbotham

Friday, March 20, 2020

Old Testament: Hosea 14:1–9

Gospel: Mark 12:28–34

Psalm 81:8–14

from Mark 12:28-34

The Gospel for today reminds us that the two most important of God’s commandments are 1. love Him and 2. Love our neighbor as ourselves. Loving God is relatively easy for most of us; however, loving our neighbor is more of a challenge. For one thing, how do we love our neighbor if we do not even know who our neighbor is? Furthermore, how do we show our neighbor our love?

Last fall my dear friend Angela Williamson introduced me to a podcast called “Reclaiming Jesus Now with Jim Wallis.” The 10 episodes follow along with Wallis’ book Christ in Crisis: Why We Need to Reclaim Jesus.” The book and podcast were life-changing. Wallis tackles some very complicated issues and challenges us to look at them through the eyes of Jesus. Chapter 2 is entitled “The Neighbor Question” and Wallis reminds us of Luke 10:29: “But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, ‘And who is my neighbor?’” So with that in mind, I ask: Who is our neighbor? Is it just the people we know or live and work near? Or is it, as I believe, everyone, even those people we have never met and never will.  

Once we have identified our neighbor, how do we show our love? Is it enough to just pray for them? “Thoughts and prayers” seem insufficient and to be honest, when I hear people say that after some tragic event, I cringe on how cliché it sounds. However, when I think of the things I wish I could do I become paralyzed with all the possibilities. Wallis argues that, “The opposite of loving your neighbor is not always hating them, but just being indifferent to them” (Wallis, pg. 59).  In 2015 Pope Francis spoke about the “globalization of indifference” where we get so “caught up in our own interests and concerns, there is no longer room for others, no place for the poor. God’s voice is no longer heard…and the desire to do good fades” (Wallis, p. 60). The indifference comes when we no longer can or will open our eyes to the lives of our neighbors. 

My goal this lent, and always, is to be better at loving my neighbor as myself by reducing my indifference and showing more love. It is the most important thing God commands us to do after loving Him first. 

Mallie Steele

Thursday, March 19, 2020

Old Testament: 2 Samuel 7:4,8-16

New Testament: Romans 4:13-18

Gospel: Luke 2:41-52

Psalm 89:1-29 or 89:1-4, 26-29

from 2 Samuel 7:4,8-16

I’m always a little curious when things “fall into place” or “happen for a reason.” Such was the case in my options for this Lenten meditation. March 19 is the Feast of Saint Joseph, husband to the Blessed Virgin Mary and Jesus’ legal father. For me, both the reading I chose, and the namesake of the feast also, have special meaning to me.  

My father’s “christened” name, when he was baptized in the Catholic church was Joseph. Joseph, the Saint, was a carpenter. My father was a carpenter and a brick mason. He loved working with his hands, beginning a project and seeing it through to the end. Though he did his best to instill that in me, I don’t know if I’ve lived up to his standards, yet. He was very much a man of his word; was caring and tender, but hard when he needed to be. I came into the world late in his life, and some say that I was the reason he lived as long as he did. He fulfilled his four score and then some. His life was full with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren; some never knew him, but, know him through the many, many stories of his duty as a father, husband, and neighbor. His main goal was to take care of his family and to make sure all were fed, clothed, and never went without.

In this passage, God, through David, is taking care of the people of Israel. Of course David is full of questions because he’s concerned about his people. God tells David that he will “appoint a place for my people Israel” and “I will give you rest.” The people of Israel had been through wars, famine, disease and David wanted to make sure that God fulfilled his promise, which is what this passage is saying. God reaffirms to David that all will be well and that David can rest when his job is over. 

How reassuring it must have been to David, knowing that he was being taken care of while he was taking care of others. In the hustle and bustle of the holiday season we sometimes run ourselves ragged with shopping and parties and church and all of the things that go with the daily stresses of the season. Then, we come to Lent and all is black and quiet and plain — for 40 days. We turn inward, we meditate, we pray, we contemplate who we are and how we can let Christ into our lives, and then what we can do to bring Christ to everyone else. That is the love of Christ. 

My father, like David, wanted to make sure that we were all taken care of and he spent the better part of his life constantly worrying about all of his offspring, no matter the age. He, like David, took his rest and worried no more. 

Let us this Lenten season learn to be like David and learn to depend on and trust in Christ for our “rest.” 

Bernard Hufft

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Old Testament: Deuteronomy 4:1–2,5–9

Gospel: Matthew 5:17–19

Psalm 78:1–6

“Law and Love”

God’s story centers on the relationship of God to creation. The foundation of relationship with God is love which pulls the two together. When relationship with God navigates through struggle, it is often the boundaries or rules that help recalibrate the love that unites the relationship. Relationships need both love and law to continually unite

Moses in our Old Testament reading exclaims that other nations will reflect on God’s nearness to Israel based on the statutes or laws God had given. The Psalmist celebrates the law and Jesus in Matthew addresses that the law is a necessary part of God’s plan and it will ultimately be fulfilled.

Jesus would go on to say in other teachings that love is the fulfillment of the law (love of God and our neighbor). I grew up in a very law-driven tradition of rules which I was told were necessary to merit God’s love. If I could make a checklist and check all the boxes that I was obedient, then God would be near to me, but when I disobeyed, God would be distant. The struggle inherent with Law and Love is sometimes we as humans miss the point. The rules are not what unites the relationship, it is love that creates the truly human and divine relationship. The apostle Paul would allude to one who could obey all the rules but without love as a dissonant noise, not making beautiful music. It is in understanding the place of rules that help make rightly relating to God, healthy. A relationship without rules will not last, for boundaries are what keep it healthy. A relationship without love will become cold and indifferent and over time create distance. 

My prayer is that we, in our continued journey of relating to God and each other, may keep in mind the need for rules, but ever mindful that rules for the sake of rules are not the essence of relationship or closeness. Love is the completeness of the rules as glue which bonds objects together. May we endeavor to create beautiful music in understanding that law points us to our inherent need of rightly relating to God and love completes us in that relationship. The two are essential.

Colby Galloway

Tuesday, March 17, 2020

Song of the Three Young Men 2–4,11–20a

New Testament: Matthew 18:21–35

Psalm 25:3–10

“Then his lord summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked slave! I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not have had mercy on your fellow slave, as I had mercy on you?’ And in anger his lord handed him over to be tortured until he would pay his entire debt. So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.”  from Matthew 18:21–35

“Jesus Saves” - bumper sticker spotted on I-65 

I usually roll my eyes when I see those stickers, or when I see the same words on a placard nailed to a telephone pole on some county road. That’s probably because I’ve assigned certain attributes to the person responsible. “Homophobic religious kook!” I say to myself with unflinching self-righteous indignation about the total stranger with whom I’ve never actually spoken. 

When I look at my attitude now, I think, “what a tragically narrow way of going about life!” 

Now, what about those people I actually know, I mean the ones I know actually sinned against me? I can take the same self-righteous attitude I did with the bumper sticker folks. I can be just like the first slave in the gospel reading and go after them without mercy. Indeed, the revenge or indignation or whatever it is will provide me a temporary rush…only to be followed by a desperate emptiness. This is what Jesus meant when he said the unforgiving slave would be “tortured,” and it reminds me of Milton’s words in Paradise Lost: “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”

Of course, there’s also the unavoidable hypocrisy of my daring to render judgements or hold resentments. I don’t have the word count here to venture into the “ignoring the log in my own eye” territory, but believe me, I realize I’ve got a lumber yard there!

Anyway, thanks be to God, Jesus hands us the keys to escape from our ludicrous self-made hells:

“Peter came and said to Jesus, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.’”

Jesus Saves

Fergus Tuohy

Monday, March 16, 2020

Old Testament: 2 Kings 5:1–15b

Gospel: Luke 4:23–30

Psalm 42:1–7

Filled with rage. Oh, how I can identify with the good Jews of Nazareth. They were furious with Jesus for not giving them what  they wanted —  healing, miracles, a Messiah just for them — which is what they thought they were entitled to. Today’s Gospel opens just after Jesus has preached his first sermon, in his home town. He’s just come in from temptation in the desert and has announced himself to be the fulfillment of the scripture. No doubt there were some pretty high expectations of him, and also some serious doubt about his claim. Jesus immediately sets some boundaries his home folks don’t like, and then removes some barriers that they had always enthusiastically embraced. What? This Messiah’s miracles are not for them, the chosen ones?  This salvation includes the Gentiles? That can’t be right!

This Gospel makes clear that when you speak the truth, you risk alienation. In our times, like in Jesus’s time, there are some seriously self-righteous, judgmental people. It sometimes takes courage to be who we are known by God to be. No honor in your own hometown? No worries. 

Be brave and steadfast in your convictions. Continue to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every person. Speak the truth to power. Hear this story as encouragement to put your  trust in God, and to live into your baptismal promises, no matter what you think the cost may be.

Melanie Atha

Sunday, March 15, 2020

Old Testament: Exodus 17:1-7

New Testament: Romans 5:1-11

Gospel: John 4:5-42

Psalm 95

“The Woman At The Well” from John 4:5-42

The woman at the well had been looking for a man who could fulfill the longing in her soul. She had five husbands and was living with boyfriend number six. She was the woman people whispered about as she walked down the street. So instead of going to the well with the other women, she got water at the hottest part of the day when she would be alone. Then she meets Jesus. When Jesus asks for a drink, she’s shocked that a Jewish man is even speaking to her. When Jesus says his water will never leave her thirsty, she thinks he’s talking about actual water and is willing to do almost anything to stop carrying a heavy water jar to and from the well. 

But Jesus continues the conversation, wanting her to see that her real needs are spiritual not physical. When he asks the woman to get her husband, he is trying to help her recognize that her hunger will never be satisfied physically. Jesus exposes our sin, not to shame us with it, but to free us from it. Just look at the freedom the woman at the well experiences by the end of their conversation. The same woman who let shame dictate her schedule drops her water jar and runs toward the town. By leaving her water jar at the well, the woman symbolically leaves behind all the ways she’d tried to satisfy her soul before meeting Jesus. She had found living water, and she would not thirst again.

Tom Pachen

Saturday, March 14, 2020

Old Testament: Micah 7:14–15,18–20

Gospel: Luke 15:11–32

Psalm 103:1–4(5–8)9–12

“The Parable of the Prodigal Son” from Luke 15:11-32

The Gospel reading for today is the famous parable of the prodigal son. It’s a story that teaches us about God’s love for us and God’s willingness to forgive us no matter what we have done. The word “prodigal” is mysterious to us, its basic meaning is “wasteful.”

Jesus tells the situation of a father who has two sons, the younger of whom can’t wait for his inheritance. He asks his father to give him his share now. Despite the unreasonable request, the father grants it. The younger son then leaves his family and quickly squanders all that he was given. 

When the prodigal decides to return home he does so with the expectation that he will be treated as a servant. However, the father accepts the prodigal back into the fold and throws a party to welcome him home. The older son is understandably upset. He didn’t demand his inheritance and stayed faithful to his father and now he is angry and refuses to go inside and join the party. His father hears about it and comes to talk to him and we discover that he’s not just angry with his brother, he’s angry with his father, too. The father reassures his oldest son that the current celebration does not represent a threat to the older brother or his inheritance. Instead, it is a celebration of joy because of the return of the younger son. 

From this parable we can draw a number of spiritual lessons: We can be a genuine “son” of the Father and be we can be lost through sin. We can turn our backs on our heavenly Father and leave him of our own free will. We can return to the Father and be accepted by him with great joy: he is ready and eager to accept us back and forgive us, no matter what we’ve done. Christians who have never fallen should not resent those who come back, but share in their Father’s joy. Their own place is secure and their heavenly reward is not threatened. God loves them just as much as he loves those who come back.

John Vintson

Friday, March 13, 2020

Old Testament: Genesis 37:3–4,12–28

Gospel: Matthew 21:33–43

Psalm 105:16–22

As I suppose many do, I read the assigned readings several times over several days. The passages are stories about Joseph being sold into slavery by his brothers and raised to a powerful position by Pharaoh, and a parable about tenants killing the son of a vineyard owner for his inheritance. From the outset a vague idea moved around the edges of my mind—something about emissaries not being welcomed, not being accepted, not being wanted. Even being seen as an annoyance or a threat. It was a sort of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead impression.  Eventually though, the vagueness burned off like fog, and a fully formed idea emerged through the mist. The breakthrough came at the end of the Gospel reading with the words Jesus recites from the scriptures:

“The stone that the builders rejected

      has become the cornerstone;

this was the Lord’s doing

      and it is amazing in our eyes.” 

“And it is amazing in our eyes.” Our eyes just don’t see as the God sees. We are so humanly human. Jealous over Joseph’s coat with long sleeves, greedy to have the vineyard owner’s inheritance, we too easily, too often, see others through the filter of contemporary social values, values that might well have utilitarian expediency but have no fundamental merit. A fog creeps in around us. My point is not that in the grayness we mistake the messenger for the message (no Rosencrantz and Guildenstern here); my point is that we miss the message that is the messenger. We overlook the cornerstone, the Christ, in each other.  

Amazed at “the Lord’s doing,” we stand in the fog asking, 

Neither anointed nor appointed,

how could she come from heaven

bringing with her only open hands?

Susan Hagen

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Old Testament: Ezekiel 47:1–9,12

Gospel: John 5:1–18

Psalm 46:1–8

“Shall we gather at the river

Where bright angel feet have trod?

With its crystal tide forever

Flowing by the throne of God?”

Robert Lowry, c. 1864

The image of a river, I suspect, takes up more than half of my brain’s synapses, as I’ve always viewed life as a river. I grew up on the Tennessee River, in Decatur, Alabama (actually, IN the Tennessee River a good bit of time). Our parents saw that my two brothers and I learned to swim at an early age. They encouraged us to water ski and swim competitively on our school teams. We had as our playground the backwaters of the river in the Wheeler Wildlife Refuge near our suburban home. 

  My late husband Lynn Daniel was also acquainted with a river, the one near where his ancestors settled in 1820 in northeast Alabama in the foothills of Appalachia. Now called Little River, it was known by the native Americans as Wolf Creek. From the high falls on its northern end to the sunny shoals at the canyon mouth, where his ancestral property has become federal parkland, we were intimately familiar with this river.  

Life is one Big Flow. Sometimes we float. Sometimes we flail against the current. Of course, we are all at least 60 percent water, so I know I’m not the only one for whom the image and physical properties of water are powerful. In the Church, our baptism (death/rebirth) is an outward sign of an inward and spiritual grace, and its ritual is the beginning step in our spiritual journey as Christians. We are received into the fold of all other followers of Christ and make promises that will take a lifetime or more to carry out.

Ezekiel’s image is a delightful one: living water, crystal clear, with trees hanging with fruit on either side of its banks, flowing from the temple of God. I can see myself floating downstream in an inner tube, and that would be my idea of heaven. Splashing in the fountains of water that came down from the temple, yes, that would be me. The healing and cleansing properties of water are formidable, and the experience would be the ultimate refreshment. Just as Jesus healed the man at the pool of at the Sheep Gate in Jerusalem, my body will be restored to wellness. I look forward to rejoicing in the living water of Christ our Lord!

Martha Jane Patton

Thursday, March 12, 2020

Old Testament: Jeremiah 17: 5-10

Gospel:  Luke 16: 19-31

Psalm 1

Psalm 1 asserts that the blessed ones meditate on and delight in the Law of the Lord day and night. They can become like trees planted by streams of water, “bearing fruit in due season, with leaves that do not wither” (vs. 2-3). By contrast, the Psalmist also declares that those who linger in the crooked ways of the world with the scornful, the distracted, the sinners, are “like chaff which the wind blows away” (vs. 4). The Hebrew Prophet Jeremiah echoes the Psalmist’s foundational Torah admonitions (vs. 5-10).  Let us focus on the encouragement given us in the positive, life-giving images of streams, trees, leaves, roots, and fruit.

To be like a tree, grounded by deep roots, beside a stream or in a forest, is, over time in a storm-tossed world, to be kept stable, rooted in God.  The beloved American poet, Mary Oliver (1935-2019) shows us her way of grounding mind and heart: her regular, slow rambles in the Cape Cod woods. “When I am among the trees, especially the willows and the honey locust, equally the beech the oaks and the pines, they give off such hints of gladness. I would almost say, and daily.”  The trees call out to her: “Stay awhile.” Light is flowing to her through their branches. They say again, Mary, “It’s simple, and you have come into this world to do this, to go easy, to be filled with light, and to shine.”  

On Shades Mountain in Birmingham, each morning I greet the trees and the birds and God the Creator with thanksgiving (well, most mornings!) to remember to choose the delights of God’s Law, to seek advice for going forth nonviolently and with loving compassion into an increasingly distracted and conflicted world. So let us imagine flourishing fruitful trees: apple, fig, tangerine, apricot, pistachio, and olive: beautiful and life-giving, rooted and watered. Not like chaff which blows away with the wind. 

One of the early Christians from Rome, Hemas (100-160 AD/CE), in his treatise “The Shepherd” suggests some simple, challenging ways that we can be rooted and “fruitful” in our daily lives: “Do good, and with simple hearts share the fruits of your labor, which God gives to you, with all those who are poor, not wondering to whom you should give and to whom you should not give. Give to all, for God wishes that you give to all from [God’s] gifts to you.”

Stanley Rich

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Old Testament:  Jeremiah 18:1-11,18-20

Gospel:  Matthew 20:17-28

Psalm 31:9-16

“I am as useless as a broken pot.” Psalm 31:12b

“Life was not supposed to turn out this way,” a friend lamented to me recently. Those words, spoken with refreshing honesty in the midst of grief, have stuck with me.

I wonder how many of us would admit to a similar broken feeling, at least during certain times in our lives or on certain dreadful days. I wonder how many of us carry such thoughts within, even when all looks grand on the outside.

I am not made for this. I missed that opportunity. I made a mess of things. I took a wrong turn. Whether negligent or calculated, I squandered and surrendered. I am as useless as a broken pot.

But in today’s Old Testament reading, the prophet reminds me that I am in the Potter’s hands. I am fashioned and refashioned as the wheel continues to turn. What is spoiled is remade. And the merciful Artist calls it good (Jeremiah 18:4).

I don’t mean to make light of mistakes made by us or harms caused to us. Life can be hard and painful. Pots do indeed break, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.

Rather, teach me to trust in you, Lord, through my shame and sadness and regret. Guard my heart and redeem my thoughts, reminding me that what is broken is being transformed.

“You are my God. My times are in your hand.” (Psalm 31:14-15a)

Michael Barnett