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

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

Old Testament: Isaiah 1:2–4,16–20

Gospel: Matthew 23:1–12

Psalm 50:7–15,22–24

As I write this in early February, I have the scene of the recent National Prayer Breakfast fresh in my mind. It’s difficult for me to refrain from contrasting the instructions of Jesus with the very public displays of religiosity in contemporary time. I wonder if the people who originally began the breakfast event (in the 1930s) would even recognize it today. I wonder how it happens that a person can begin an activity with the best of spiritual intentions only to have that activity become so steeped in “religiosity” that its spiritual nature is threatened. I’m going to interrupt my laughter at the National Prayer Breakfast and ask the more difficult question: what are the implications in my own life?

It’s always easier to point out someone else’s short-comings than it is to examine my own honestly. My ego wants to be a full-service public relations agent at times. It can be too hasty in relegating the parts of my personality that need improvement to a closet and trying to shut the door. But denying those parts of myself will not result in a personality that is whole. I must remind myself that God created all of the pieces of who I am. My job is to assemble the puzzle so that it ends up as the picture that God intended.

In this passage from Matthew, I hear Jesus reminding me to keep God at the center of my spiritual life. Public posturing as well as its opposite, false humility, seeks attention for myself.

The activities that will nourish my spiritual needs are not always public. There are also times when it is important for me to be outspoken. I must prayerfully try to discern God’s will in each situation as it presents itself.

I will try to remind myself that my job is to do what I can to help bring the Kingdom of Heaven to this place right now.

Sharon Fugate

Monday, March 09, 2020

Old Testament: Daniel 9:3–10

Gospel: Luke 6:27–38

Psalm 79:1–9

“Remember not our past sins;

let your compassion be swift to meet us;

for we have been brought very low.” Psalm 79:8

Today’s readings would not let me get away from sin. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about sin over the past year, since I was asked to give my personal definition of sin. On the spot, I said something about how, as part of the condition of being humans in the world, we all trespass and transgress, adding that we’re also trespassed upon. I explained it mostly a matter of proximity: the nature of living close to one another. My answer sounded a lot like describing a rush hour ride on the Metro when I lived in D.C.

I got the chance to test the working definition of sin I’d offered very soon after, when I said something mean I wish I hadn’t said to someone I loved. I transgressed and trespassed, before I even realized it. My words hadn’t reflected how much I cared about the person. But now sin felt more painful and immediate than my easy, theoretical answer. Having come face to face with sin in my own life, I felt like Daniel in today’s reading, ready to don my sackcloth and ashes. His prayer of confession reminded me how painful sin is, no matter which side of it you find yourself on.

Jesus teaches, in today’s Gospel from Luke, the kind of forgiveness I hope all my transgressions will be met with: “Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.” I want to be part of a community like the one Jesus describes, where forgiveness is practiced in abundance. 

I’m lucky in that I’ve known forgiveness, and that when I work through problems like sin in my own life, I have a great community of people in my life who remind me of grace, of who I am. I’m also grateful for Mary Oliver, whose “Wild Geese” is was a comfort to me, and a perfect poem for Lent. I wish I could share the whole poem with you now, but as I close, I’ll just get us started:

“You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

For a hundred miles through the desert repenting.” 

Whitney Williams

Sunday, March 08, 2020

Old Testament: Genesis 12: 1-4a

New Testament: Romans 4: 1-5, 13-17

Gospel: John 3: 1-17

Psalm 121

“For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, as it is written, “I have made you the father of many nations”) —in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.”  Romans 4:13-17

“God Keeps His Promise.” I always love reading these headings in the Bible: they kind of tell you the direction you will be going while reading the verses. And these verses make it very clear, or at least for me, that faith has more weight than the law. These lines are about Abraham, but down through the ages, it seems that the battle between “The Law” and “Faith” never ceases, and it was a plague even unto Jesus. How often did he have to address issues concerning the law during his ministry? Well, we know it was a lot. And Jesus was not shy when addressing the lawyers of his time, the Pharisees. They were way more concerned with following the law than with faith.  

I like rules and laws, and I am sure they are comforting for most of us when they are not scaring us! So I am joyful when I get to be reminded that my faith rules and trumps The Law. Our Faith is a Journey, and Jesus said, “Your Faith Has Saved You!” Whew! What a relief!!!! Thanks Be To God!

Ty Walling

Saturday, March 07, 2020

Old Testament: Deuteronomy 26:16–19

Gospel: Matthew 5:43–48

Psalm 119:1–8

The theme for today’s lections is the law. The Old Testament lection recognizes the covenant established between the Lord and his people Israel who are commanded to observe the law. The psalm also carries forth this theme. This is the initial portion of Psalm 119, the longest psalm in scripture. It is an acrostic psalm. Each of its twenty-two stanzas of eight verses each begins with a Hebrew letter (here seen at the beginning of the Latin incipit for the psalm, in this case the Hebrew letter, aleph). According to tradition, David used this psalm to teach young Solomon the Hebrew alphabet, both a literal alphabet and the alphabet of walking spiritually.

I fondly recall this psalm’s use in Orthodox liturgy. It is used at every orthodox burial liturgy, and, more importantly, at the burial liturgy used for Christ himself at Holy Saturday Matins observed on Holy Friday Evening (the odd time used for this monastic hour reflects the universe tossed into chaos by the Passion of Our Savior). It is chanted as the body of the church stands around in adoration of the epitaphion (burial shroud) draped over his catafalque. Additionally, between each psalm verse is chanted the Lamentations of Mary. These poetic lines, with soul wrenching tones to match in Russian churches, profoundly express her anguish over the loss of her son. This is for me the most powerful liturgy of the Orthodox liturgical year.

Thus Christ in his self-emptying (kenosis), even in death, participates fully with the humanity he came to know in its flesh and save. Humanity, reciprocally, is elevated, in sharing its earthly burial liturgy with this Person of the Trinity. Thus the choice of the this lection in Lent is apropos as we journey toward the great events of Holy Week and The Resurrection.

Both the psalm and the Old Testament lection make use of the phrase, “with all their hearts.” The proper collect repeats this phrase which fits the theme of the law here. This also has meaning for me particularly this year. I am engaged in a new prayer practice in anticipation of the discernment process, and as a consequence of thinking theologically as a part of my EfM ministry. I feel most blessed to have been called to EfM and Catechumenate ministries. With a full heart I have embraced this process. And I have been wonderfully embraced by all at our EfM table as we journey through the year. With a full heart, just the other week, I drove home, using the newly opened decks of Interstate 20/59. The wideness of these new constructions astounded me. I also thought how astounded I was at the wideness of God’s mercy, as the hymn proclaims. This mercy has enfolded me since the time of my father’s passing. The new life begun since then, with new vocation, new ministries, and new companionship, continues.

A full heart. And one that is thankful. Near the close of the psalm, the psalmist speaks of an unfeigned heart. I recall this same redolent term in the General Thanksgiving near the end of Rite One Morning and Evening Prayer. This is one of my favorite prayers in the Book of Common Prayer. I pray I continue in these prayers and thankfulness through Lent and beyond.

Ken Floyd

Friday, March 06, 2020

Old Testament: Ezekiel 18:21–28

Gospel: Matthew 5:20–26

Psalm 130

As I was sitting down to read the scriptures for today, the noise in the background was the impeachment trial of our current president. Themes of truth, judgment, justice and values have been present during the past few months. When I read some Biblical commentaries on this passage from Ezekiel, I was struck by the themes mentioned which are timely. Lamar Eugene Cooper mentioned the sinfulness of humanity, the inevitability of judgment, individual responsibility, hope of restoration. Another commentary from Dr. Douglas Stuart mentioned individual responsibility, and the power of national leadership for good or bad, and God’s transcendence.  

In times of discordance especially of late, how can we focus on those positive aspects of restoration and God’s transcendence? Ezekiel was full of hope. Commentaries point out that this book was written in a dark time of exile for the Israelites and even as Ezekiel was in exile, he remained hopeful. Dr. Thomas Constable (2019) writes: “His perspective is the key to anyone remaining hopeful in the midst of very discouraging circumstances, even us.”    

This one phrase spoke to me in a powerful way. For several years, many of us have been discouraged over all the political turmoil of our nation. Many of us feel that our nation is in a dark place with tensions boiling over, racism and prejudice raging, and a political system that is broken. So, how can we remain hopeful like Ezekiel? 

Constable writes: “understanding God is the very foundation for hope. Where there is hope, there is joy, there is peace, there is love, there is faith, and there is ministry. In the times in which we live, a commitment to ministry by itself will not preserve a Christian from all the pitfalls that surround us. Only ministry grounded in and growing out of our personal understanding and appreciation of the character of God will do that.”

I specifically asked for this date because my husband and I celebrate 38 years of marriage today. Serendipity that understanding is a key word for today. How can we work together as a loving church community to grow our understanding of God with the goal of growing our hope?  Let’s work together to help understand God in our lives, grow our hope and restore our souls. 

Linda Foster

Thursday, March 05, 2020

Esther (Apocrypha) 14:1–6,12–14

Gospel: Matthew 7:7–12

Psalm 138

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. 8 For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened. 9 “Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him! 12 So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”  Matthew 7:7-12

This passage always reminds me of working at the bag lunch program at the Advent years ago. One of the volunteers shared a problem with the Canon. The volunteer wrestled with giving money to a homeless person. “If that person takes that dollar and buys cigarettes, alcohol, or drugs, I can’t do it.”  The Canon simply replied, “If a brother needs a dollar and you can help give.”

It’s not our business where that dollar goes. At some point, we all are in need. God gave us the most precious gift. Sometimes, we let light shine to be a beacon in the dark and sometimes we are in need. As we travel through this Season of Lent, kindle the flame in your heart. “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.”

God’s peace,

Scott Martin