Words Matter: Speaking the Truth in Love - January 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; Isa. 44:6-8,21-23; Eph. 4:1-16; Mark 3:7-19a

Back in my youth ministry days, we used to watch these videos by Rob Bell who at the time was a pretty popular Christian author.  I think he has a podcast these days and for a while had a show on Oprah’s television channel.  The videos were kind of like sermons with beautiful cinematography and music playing in the background.  In one of his videos, he was sitting in a diner with a cup of coffee sharing a reflection on flowers. 

In the story, Bell asks us to consider how meaningful it would be to come home one day to our loved ones with a gift of beautiful flowers.  Imagine saying to someone special, “Here, these flowers are for you.  I was thinking of you today.”  I think most of us would recognize this as a beautiful and touching moment that would probably make just about anyone feel special.

Now imagine if that same person, then followed up with the following statement.  “Well, I was walking by a place that sold flowers, and some yelled out and said you should buy flowers, and it really wasn’t a big deal.  I mean it didn’t take any effort on my part, and it’s just not that big of a deal.  I mean, I didn’t have to do any big thing.”  The gift of flowers wouldn’t be so special now, would they?  The gift would be lost.

It’s interesting how just a few words can change the meaning of a simple action.  Our words matter.  A truth that can be hopeful for one person can also be painful for that same person just by the way we share that truth.  Paul writes to the community in Ephesus that part of growing up is learning how to speak the truth.  Paul casts a vision of the body of Christ as people who are no longer children, but they understand God’s love and hope for the world.  But he cautions the community when he says, “but speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head.”  If it’s the truth, why does it matter how we share it?  Because words matter.

It’s hard to figure out what exactly is true these days.  Most of us think we know what is true and what is not and today it feels like we will defend that truth at the cost of our friendships and family.   I wonder if there is some work for all of us in how we grow in learning to speak our truths in love.  At the very least, it might help us to be heard by those who might disagree with us, and at start, that sounds like a very good thing.  So, speak in love.  Why?  Because words matter.  And Paul tells us so! 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Have you ever shared something necessary that brought pain to someone?  How did you move forward?  Looking back, would you have changed the way you offered advice or truth?

Daily Challenge: Think of one thing you have been meaning to share with someone but haven’t figured out how to share.  Write down three different ways of sharing that news and consider how love can impact how you share it.

And the people say, AMEN! – January 16

Today’s Readings: Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14); Isa. 43:1-13; Eph. 3:14-21; Mark 2:23-3:6 

I recently read a reflection on the importance of telling our stories, reiterating a point that is not new news. Sharing stories foments deeper relationships, inviting us into someone else’s lived experience and reminding us of our own. I think about our parish’s shared experience of prayer that has shifted greatly in the last year. One year ago, parishioners emailed or called the church about a prayer request, or they told a member of the clergy at Wednesday night dinner, or on a Sunday morning during the passing of the Peace or after church. There were healing intercessors, parishioners in the transept waiting to pray with people during Eucharist. Pastoral care volunteers reached out to folks in need through cards, phone calls, and meals. Some of this is the same, and yet there is something that is fresh and new.

We witness prayer in action in a different way on Sunday mornings and during streamed weekday services. We watch our clergy and parish family praying for thanksgivings and concerns, births and deaths, hardship and unity – as church does. And now, requests are offered through typed requests in our livestream comments. We lift them up corporately in real-time. What has not changed is that we participate as a community – even when gathering via internet with names scrolling in the comments section – to praise God and grow in faith.

At its heart, prayer is a multi-level dialogue. It is a dialogue between the intercessor – the one speaking the prayer – and the respondents who say, “Lord, have mercy” or “Amen.” It is simultaneously a dialogue between the congregation’s lips and God’s ears. Alexander Schmemann says that “prayer is ‘sealed’ by the gathering with one of the key words of Christian worship, ‘amen’.” If the prayer is said solo by a priest or a lay person, it is still said on our behalf, and with the whole church in mind. Whether on our knees praying (as the apostle Paul alludes today), standing in the Nave of Saint Stephen’s, or sitting comfortably on the sofa, we all say amen.

How are we to pray? There are many who have offered instruction. In scripture, there are many avenues. We have the psalms, those 150 rollercoasters of joy and conflict. We have Jesus’ directive to the disciples in a model of how to pray to God (which we call The Lord’s Prayer) in Luke 11:

He said to them,

“When you pray, say:

Father, hallowed be your name.

Your kingdom come.

Give us each day our daily bread.

And forgive us our sins,

For we ourselves forgive everyone indebted to us.

And do not bring us to the time of trial.” (v. 2-4)

In Paul’s letter to the Christians at Ephesus, the apostle offers instructions to his audience, sharing how he prays for them. This excerpt from Ephesians 3 that we read today, Paul also offers a model for how they can pray for others. While his language is a little flowery, the nuts and bolts of how he prays for his friends are these:

1.     Pray for their spiritual strength through the Holy Spirit;

2.     Through faith, may Christ dwell in their hearts.

3.     May they have a foundation made of God’s love;

4.     See, feel, and know the love of Jesus;

5.     Be satisfied fully in the greatness of God;

6.     And, glorify God through the work of the church forever.

As we aspire to know, believe, and experience the “breadth and length and height and depth” of God’s love, we join in this prayer by saying together, “AMEN!”

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

The apostle Paul says he kneels in prayer. What posture feels most prayerful to you? Do you pray differently at home than you do when you are in church?

Daily Challenge 

Write (or say) a prayer for a friend, based on Paul’s prayer in Ephesians 3:16-21.

Bird Church - January 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; Isa. 42:(1-9)10-17; Eph. 3:1-13; Mark 2:13-22 

Today’s Reflection

“Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places.”—Ephesians 3: 8-10

One of the ways I hold onto hope and connect with God is through spending time outside observing nature. This has always been true for me, but I have felt this even more keenly over this past year. When we started out this pandemic year, I lived in a subdivision in College Station, Texas, with a big covered back porch that looked out onto a tiny, treeless backyard. The view from our porch was of a wooden fence and the rooftops of the tightly-spaced surrounding houses. I spent a lot of time looking up toward the sky and clouds, as there was not much else to look at nature-wise. One saving grace is that we did have a nest of starlings in the top of a hollow column that supported the porch. Their eggs hatched not long after we moved in, so we enjoyed watching these starlings grow and fledge and continue to call our porch home over the year we lived there.

Then, one weekend last February, my younger daughter and I decided we needed to go to Lowe’s with the goal of bringing home a few new plants and a birdfeeder. She found what we both agreed was the perfect feeder—a metal one fashioned to look like a church with clear, arched glass windows and a steeple—and a big metal shepherd’s hook to hang it on, since we had no backyard tree for it. We wondered what other birds might come to visit us now.

Not too long after that, when we found ourselves together all day, every day, working and learning from home, I felt so grateful that we had brought that birdfeeder home when we did. Once we put our church for birds out in the middle of our little back yard—and committed to keeping it stocked with seed—we found out that there were many other birds in South College Station besides starlings. Once we put out the feeder with all different types of seed in the mix, we would still see the starlings. But we also began to see those big, iridescently beautiful boat-tailed grackles—and common grackles, cardinals, finches, sparrows, red-winged blackbirds, and blue jays. While we humans could not go anywhere, these birds would fly in and out, unfazed by a global pandemic—and we could live vicariously through their ability to fly over fence lines and socialize with all manner of fellow birds as they came to share the seed at our little bird church.

When we moved here to Birmingham this past July, the bird church was one of the first things we unpacked that made our new, more spacious and tree-filled yard here feel like home, finding the perfect spot for it on a low branch of the massive camellia bush by our back deck. In the seasons we’ve experienced here so far, we’ve welcomed cardinals, robins, bluebirds, house finches, chickadees, thrushes, and doves to the feeder—and felt moments of surprise when tiny hummingbirds and massive barred owls have flown through, too. Every single day, I allow myself to get lost in prayer and thought as I watch the colorful diversity of birds who come to the bird church. Yes, we always see the cardinals the most (they may even have their nest there in the camellia bush)—but it’s especially lovely to see how they don’t mind when the house finches and the bluebirds and the others stop through to share in the feast.

Both the Gospel passage appointed for today from Mark 2 and the Epistle passage from Ephesians 3 remind us of our call to invite everyone to share with us in our communion around God’s boundless (and boundary-less) table. Jesus wanted to sit side-by-side and break bread with all manner of people, but especially those at the margins. Later, when the Apostle Paul wrote to his friends in Ephesus, he emphasized that the mystery God had revealed to him was this: that the riches of Christ are “boundless” and meant for everyone, Jews and Gentiles. The mystery of Christ is that all have “access to God in boldness and confidence.” Paul’s mission, and ours, is “to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known” to all people.

—Becky+

Question for Self-Reflection

Where in your daily life do you see gentle reminders that God’s love is boundless and intended for all?

Daily Challenge

Learn more about how Jesus connected more with marginalized people than with those in any other group in his extended social network by watching our Sunday morning forum from January 10 and our upcoming ones on January 17 and 24. You can view Dr. Jennifer McClure’s next presentation on YouTube this Sunday morning from 9:00-9:50 a.m. by clicking here.

Enthusiastic Hospitality

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 18:1-20; PM Psalm 18:21-50; Isa. 41:17-29; Eph. 2:11-22; Mark 2:1-12

One January, fifteen years ago, I was traveling in central India with some members of my church. I had organized a trip to learn about Christianity, specifically in a place where it was not the dominant religion.  It helped that my friend, the Rev. Milind Sojwal, was from Pune and loved to help people visit and learn more about his country of origin.  He agreed to lead our trip and off we went, halfway around the world to spend three weeks traveling and learning all we could about the world’s second most populated country. 

Our trip led us to spend time in Pune, Chandrapur, Nagpur, wrapping our trip up in New Delhi and Agra.  You can’t travel all the way to India and not visit the Taj Mahal!  Our trip included time at a Christian seminary, visiting famous Hindu sites, an entirely new palette for food, and meeting more people than I could ever remember. 

However, the most interesting part of the trip was the few days we spent visiting rural villages that the Church had been successful in converting to Christianity.  These rural churches had no running water, no electricity, and the people there had never met a Westerner or person with white skin.  We would go and share, often eating rice out of giant teak leaves careful not to consume anything that hadn’t been cooked well.  Sometimes I would share a story and Milind would translate into Hindi and then one of the missioners traveling with us would translate into the local dialect.  With two translations taking place, I am sure that a lot was lost.

Even fifteen years later, I am moved by how we were welcomed by these villages and communities.  One village waited several hours after we were supposed to arrive and greeted us with a vibrant drum circle and festive meal.  We were welcomed for no other reason than being fellow Christians, affirming their new hope in Jesus Christ and renewing our own.  We were welcomed because of our shared identity in Christ.  It is almost haunting how beautifully these communities extended hospitality and something I have rarely experienced or extended to others here in the United States.  We might feel welcomed when we share a friend in common or even our denomination, but not usually because of our Christian identity.  Especially not if we are coming from different traditions that seem at odds.

Listen to the words of the letter to the Ephesians: “You are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone.”  Earlier in our reading, the author talks about how the community is brought together through this shared identity.

I would be lying if I told you I didn’t have some serious reservations with how some people understand God and their Christian faith.  While I have a lot of pride for our country, I am troubled by what I see as a surge of Christian nationalism.  However, what I find encouraging in our text is the author of Ephesians speaks wisdom about not taking an “us and them” approach.  Where I might be able to do work of reconciliation and healing, is to first see a shared identity with those whom I disagree with and even consider problematic as members of the Christian faith.  As many of us have discussed heavily over the past few weeks, the “us and them” approach is not working.  How different would the world be if we learned to truly welcome each other into our lives when we encounter those we disagree with by beginning with what we share in common and then move from there? What if we learned to welcome people into our lives with the same enthusiasm as the villagers in central India?  Could our world like different?

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have you felt truly welcomed into a new environment? 

Daily Challenge:  Do you have a nemesis or person whom you can’t stand?  Create a list of five to ten things that you have in common with that person. 

I dare you to feel - January 13

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; Isa. 41:1-16; Eph. 2:1-10; Mark 1:29-45 

A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, ‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, ‘I do choose. Be made clean!’ Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. (Mark 1:40-42)

One early morning recently, our five-year-old woke with a stomachache. He was writhing in pain and inconsolable. It was unsettling for Sam and for me, as there was not much in that moment we could do to comfort or distract him, as the abdominal cramping took over his little body. Soaking in a warm tub brought some relief. And, then the vomiting started. He had a stomach virus, as school-aged kids often catch. Thankfully, after a day or two of Gatorade, applesauce, and dry Rice Krispies, he was feeling much better and back to his normal antics.

As I sit with today’s scripture, I cannot get past how Jesus responds to the need of the man with leprosy in Mark 1. The begging man asks, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” The man recognizes the healing ability of Jesus, who has been on a traveling salvation show, casting out demons and proclaiming the message of Good News. The man has heard of others’ lives restored and hopes that he, too, can be renewed and healed. Jesus is moved with pity by the man and his plea. The word in Greek used to describe Jesus’ reaction is splanchnistheis (how’s that for a mouthful!) – and it means moved with compassion, from your gut. That writhing pull in your stomach that is hard to ignore. Maybe Jesus does not feel the same agony as someone with a stomach bug, but the word here is visceral and intense. It is worth noting that in his display of compassion and concern for the leper, Jesus stops his movement and remains present for a moment. He reaches out his hand, extending his fingers, and he touches the man seeking help. Then he speaks, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Through the divine power that Jesus wields, the man is immediately cleansed and healed.

I wonder who along each of our paths might need compassion today. Who in your life already has your guts in a tangle of concern, anger, and love? Or maybe, because it hurts so much, we move on past those spaces in our own hearts, or in those of others’ lives, that are broken beyond repair. We ignore them or block them out, in denial that their messes affect us. Or, the pain is so big and frightening that we cannot begin to look at the reality around us, because yes, the realities in our world are hard and heavy.

So, what are we to do? Our job today is to continue as good stewards, striving to walk in Jesus’ footsteps, one step at a time, and one day at a time. Through prayer and study, we get to summon the courage to connect and empathize with someone else, listening to their story, seeking to understand what it is that they really want. What is hurting? What relief is available? We can pray for one another. We can reach out in a myriad of ways. And we can dare to feel deep compassion in this broken and hurting world – and in doing so, Jesus stretches out his hand to bring assurance and healing.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What friend or family member comes to mind as someone who is easy to connect with? Who is more of a challenge?

When seeking support, do you prefer someone to extend words of care (like a card), actions (like a meal), or touch (like a hug)? 

Daily Challenge 

Think of someone who is challenging to connect with. Pray for that person. Allow yourself to be moved to compassion for that person…and if that is hard, keep that person in prayer this week.  

God Sees You - January 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 5, 6; PM Psalm 10, 11; Isa. 40:25-31; Eph. 1:15-23; Mark 1:14-28

Today’s Reflection

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, ‘My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God’? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless” (Isaiah 40-27-29).

Each time I fly somewhere (though it’s been a while now due to the pandemic), looking down on the earth from the windows of my plane, I’m reminded of the need to reconnect with God and his divine perspective. We can get a limited sense of this when we fly, high up in the atmosphere, as we look down and see how humankind, and all the things we have built, seem very, very tiny—from this higher point of view.

Even just a few minutes connecting with God through a prayer, or silence, or a scripture passage, or nature can help us gain a new perspective. God’s vantage point is like that of someone looking down from above—a very different point of view from our default perspective, which tends to be stuck down amongst the weeds. God has the eternal perspective of the Creator in that God’s understanding transcends our limited human understanding of time and space, not to mention of ourselves and our place in it.

Just a few verses earlier in Isaiah 40, we read this: “Have you not known?... It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers” (Isaiah 40:21-22). As little, green grasshoppers looking up from down in the weeds where we tend to spend most of our time, it can seem like God doesn’t see us. In fact, it is we who cannot see God—all we see are all these weeds that are holding us grasshoppers back from leaping up into the sunshine and fresh air—into the freedom from worry and want—that we all seek. However, rest assured that God sees us and knows us, and all his creation to the ends of the earth. In other words, we cannot fall off God’s radar—he cannot not see us, he cannot not know us.

Not only that, but God does not grow weary—he does not get tired of us. God understands us better than we can understand ourselves. And not only is he always there for us as our everlasting God, but he empowers us: “He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.”

When we feel our way is hidden from God, when we feel powerless and in need of renewed strength, those are the moments when we most need to step away to reconnect with him through solitude and prayer—just as Jesus did again and again throughout his public ministry. As we build in these moments of purposeful disappearing, we can re-appear—as Jesus did—with renewed commitment to live into the call that God has given to each of us: to go where God has called us to go, and to proclaim his message of grace, love, and peace to all those whose paths cross ours along the way.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Recall a time when you felt like your way was “hidden from the Lord.” What about being in that situation made you feel unseen or disconnected from God’s loving gaze? What happened—or who intervened—to help you feel reassured that you are always seen and cared for by God?

Daily Challenge

Consider how you might give up time normally spent on something else in favor of using that time to disappear—as Jesus did—for the purpose of re-appearing refreshed and renewed, ready to take on the next challenge God has in store for you.

Starting Over - January 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; PM Psalm 4, 7 ; Isa. 40:12-23; Eph. 1:1-14; Mark 1:1-13

There have been more than a handful of times in my life wherein just a matter of seconds, I realized how profoundly life had changed.  Usually, it happens when I say something that I can’t take back that changes the nature of a relationship.  It’s also has happened when I have typed something and hit the send button and regretted it for longer than the person on the receiving end could ever have imagined, although I am sure that the relationship is still different today.  I am betting I am not alone in carrying the guilt of what has been done and what has been left undone. 

I didn’t realize until preparing for this morning that we have once again hit one of those moments when we “start over.”  We begin working through the Psalms again starting with Psalm 1.  I think this is the fifth or sixth time since we begin this practice of daily prayer and reflection.  We begin working through the beautiful letter to the Ephesians with an ancient baptismal prayer.  And then we also begin working through the Gospel of Mark which tells the same story we heard at church the day before.

Starting over is important, but only because it points us to a much deeper truth – God’s grace is always available.  It’s the grace that is promised through the Gospel of Mark, a spirit we receive at baptism.   

One of the gifts of Morning Prayer has been reading the Lord’s Prayer multiple times a day.  I keep hearing the words of Jesus, “May God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”    This is not only what we long for, but what we strive for as Christians.  We work for the kingdom to be on earth as it is heaven.  But to do this work, we must not only know God’s grace, but be willing to profess it for others as well. While there are always consequences for our actions, there can also be grace in the love that we feel from God and each other. May today be a day to start over for us all.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where in your life do you need God’s grace?  Are there things you have said or done that you wish you could take back?

Daily Challenge:  It can be equally challenging both to receive grace and extend it.  Pick one event in your life in need of grace, and one person in your life and commit to working on extending grace today.

Why psalms? - January 9

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 121, 122, 123; Isa. 63:1-5; Rev. 2:18-29; John 5:1-15

A parishioner asked this week about the psalms, as they have tried to read them all in a period of time; they got bogged down in the middle and felt frustrated. So, why do we sing, pray, and quote psalms? Our Holy Scriptures include 150 lyrical pieces from antiquity – called the psalter – containing emotive, expressive waves of praise and joy; weeping and lament; anger and regret. These ancient psalms are the backbone of Jewish and Christian prayer…offerings of words about God, for God, and with God. Think about it like this: the psalter is the compendium of poetry and songs of Jesus’ time. While we lack the first musical settings, they are melodic in composition. The Hebrew people probably memorized them, at all ages, and recited them during work, or walking, or worshipping. The psalms speak of, and call us to proclaim, God’s steadfast faithfulness and mighty glory.

In his book Praying the Psalms, Thomas Merton says of the psalms, in his own decadent language: “…we drink divine praise at its pure and stainless source, in all its primitive sincerity and perfection. We return to the youthful strength and directness with which the ancient psalmists voiced their adoration of the God of Israel…the Psalms are the songs [of those] who knew who God was. When we pray the psalms, we get to learn and unearth this Lord to whom we pray...the psalms are the songs of the whole Church, the very expression of her deepest inner life…soul, desire, longing, sorrow, joy.”

The psalms do hold for us this opening into raw emotions, unfettered by social niceties. In today’s vernacular, we could say that psalms “keep it real”. In one verse, things are peaceful and serene, and in the next verse, there is a flood of vomit and meanness. Perhaps your life has been on such a rollercoaster this week. But why must we revisit the hateful verses of psalms? In opening prayer to all depths of feeling, we incorporate those darker spaces of self-loathing, righteous indignation, and rage:

Because of all my enemies,
    I am the utter contempt of my neighbors
and an object of dread to my closest friends—
    those who see me on the street flee from me. (Ps. 31:11)

Let there be none to extend lovingkindness to him,
Nor any to be gracious to his fatherless children.
Let his posterity be cut off;
In a following generation let their name be blotted out. (Ps. 109:12-13)

Happy is the one who seizes your infants
    and dashes them against the rocks. (Ps. 137:9)

And why do we keep saying these psalms that feel awkward and indecent? Because those verses of Holy Scripture are words that capture how someone – maybe you – is feeling right now. Those words put into phrase the devastation of those too tired, too angry, too broken to pray to God.

I know that the psalms appointed for today are more mild and comforting…and perhaps they are even more so in comparison to the harsh language of those cited above. What I hold up in closing is the prayer offered in Psalm 122 for the peace of Jerusalem – and for all cities. Let us all pray this prayer for our world:

"May they prosper who love you.

Peace be within your walls
and quietness within your towers.

For my brethren and companions' sake,
I pray for your prosperity.

Because of the house of the Lord our God,
I will seek to do you good." (Ps. 122:6b-9)

Let us seek to do good because of the love of the Lord our God this day.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What psalms do you know by heart? What psalms are your favorites? Which leave you confused?

Daily Challenge 

Read more about the visceral psalms and others at The Psalms Project. Share what you learn with someone else…and share a story of when you were mean or less than graceful. See how God’s faithfulness redeems us, no matter what.

Crafting Baskets and Hope - January 8

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 117, 118; PM Psalm 96:1-7; Exodus 2:1-10; Rev. 2:8-17; Matthew 5:1-12

Today’s Reflection

Today is the feast day of Harriet Bedell, someone whom I had never heard of before earlier this week. So, feeling curious about this unknown saint, who is described as “missionary and friend to the Seminoles” in Florida, where I grew up, I decided to learn more.

Harriet Bedell was an Episcopal deaconess and missionary who worked alongside Native Americans in Oklahoma, Alaska, and Florida. Born in Buffalo, New York, in 1875, she decided at age 31 (in 1906) to apply to the New York School of Deaconesses, where she was accepted into a year of formation to prepare to follow her call to be a deaconess. At that time, deaconesses were women who felt a call to a life of service, but were not ordained as members of the clergy as deacons are today.

Bedell was sent to a Cheyenne mission in Oklahoma where she served—though not yet officially recognized as a deaconess—for nine years. Then, in 1916, she was sent to serve in a new context, in Stevens Village, Alaska, and then was sent on from there to establish a boarding school in Tanana, Alaska, for rural students who did not live near a school. Finally, in 1922, Bedell was made a deaconess of the Episcopal Church. Unfortunately, the Great Depression made raising the necessary funds to keep the school open impossible, so she returned to the continental United States where she traveled around to speak of her missionary work. In 1932, Bedell traveled to Florida to speak at a Seminole reservation where she ended up feeling a call to live and work alongside the Miccosukee tribe, whose poor living conditions pointed toward a need to discover new ways of making a living.

While earlier in her ministry Bedell had focused on missionary work with an eye toward converting people to Christianity, over the years Bedell’s heart and mind changed. By the time Bedell worked with Miccosukee in South Florida, her focus shifted toward empowering people to improve their quality of life (especially their health and education) as she lived and worked alongside them in a spirit of respect and admiration for their culture.

What Bedell discovered about the Miccosukee culture is that they had rich traditions of crafting baskets, patchwork, and dolls, but that their artisan-elders were dying off and soon their valuable cultural knowledge and artistic skills would be lost. Bedell encouraged them to save these almost-lost traditions, which helped them to retain their cultural identity while they generated income to improve their daily lives.

The Exodus reading appointed for Bedell’s feast day is the story of baby Moses being floated down the Nile in a handmade basket: “When she could hide him no longer she got a papyrus basket for him, and plastered it with bitumen and pitch; she put the child in it and placed it among the reeds on the bank of the river. His sister stood at a distance, to see what would happen to him. The daughter of Pharaoh came down to bathe at the river, while her attendants walked beside the river. She saw the basket among the reeds and sent her maid to bring it” (Exodus 2: 3-5). Just as the basket Moses’ mother crafted kept him alive and carried him to a new life, so too did the baskets and other crafts made by these Miccosukee artisans provide a new-yet-old way for them to live and thrive in the Everglades. Bedell made the Everglades her home and her mission from 1933 through 1960, when Hurricane Donna destroyed her home and the mission buildings, forcing her to retire at age 85.

As a young woman growing up in the Victorian Era in Buffalo, New York, Harriet Bedell likely would not have predicted the many and varied roads she would travel—all the interesting people she would know and love and all the beautiful places she would live—as she followed God’s call. And she probably wouldn’t have predicted the way that her heart would be changed along the way, either.

—Becky+

Collect for Harriet Bedell

Holy God, fill us with compassion and respect for all people, and empower us for the work of ministry whether near or far away; that like your servant Harriet Bedell, we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, and by giving up ourselves to your service. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Questions for Self-Reflection

Recall a point in your life when you thought you had a good plan for how your life would unfold—what you would achieve, where you would live, and who you would know. Did life unfold according to your plans? Or did some parts of your plan end up changing? Looking back on it now, reflect on the actual course of your life and how those unexpected changes in plans have made you who you are today.

Daily Challenge

Learn more of Harriet Bedell’s life and work in the Everglades of Florida (as well as in Oklahoma and Alaska) by viewing some of her photographs now archived at the Smithsonian Institution. You can read more about her life of service through the Women in Florida History blog and see photos of her at work through the Florida Memory Project.

Vanquishing Fear - January 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 103; PM Psalm 114, 115 ; Isa. 52:3-6; Rev. 2:1-7; John 2:1-11

I find today’s readings incredibly hopeful following one bizarre and unsettling day in the history of our nation.  To set up today’s story in light of the liturgical seasons that shape our faith tradition, I need to go back to yesterday. 

On the feast of Epiphany (January 6), we so often focus on the journey of the Magi that come from the East bearing gifts to the Christ child.  But that is only part of the story.  At the time of Jesus’ birth, a man named Herod is afraid of losing power.  He hears the prophecy of a king being born who will replace him.  With the fear of losing everything tormenting his ego and desire for power, Herod plots to kill all of the children who are to be born.  The Magi know this.  The text in the Gospel of Matthew says, “And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road” (Matthew 2:12). 

I share this because to me, I think living out our Christian faith is always risky.  To truly love our enemy, to care for the prisoner, to feed the hungry, to empower the powerless, to give voice to the marginalized always comes at a cost. Yesterday’s story is not new.  It is the timeless tale of what happens when we fear losing power.  It may come as a surprise to many of us because our commitment to love each other and a humility that is often shaped by faith and love allow us to vanquish that fear.  In an ideal world, we don’t fear those who think, look, or act differently than us because of an undergirding ethic to love those people as we love ourselves (The Great Commandment) even when we disagree. 

When fear replaces love and a commitment to respect the dignity of each other, the end result is always violence.  This is the path of fear.  The reason Jesus is so radical is the power of love to vanquish all fear (end of violence) and it is the love that we as Christians seek to embody in the world.  Which is why I find the readings for today so hopeful.

Today’s Gospel is the miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee, the story of Jesus turning water into wine.  But like most stories, something else is taking place.  You might recall that in every Gospel except John, there is a story of Jesus holding wine and saying, “This is my blood. Drink this in remembrance of me.” But not John!  And to think, John was written all those years after the other Gospels.  Why would the author leave out that important story!

Well, what some people think is what you have read today is actually part of an Ancient Eucharistic liturgy.  The story of Cana is not about a wedding but the Eucharist.  Water is actually something else.  It is the great mystery of the faith.  How can bread and wine be God?  How can what is right before our eyes be so sacred and so special?  But that’s what Jesus does, not on a Sunday morning, but the real mystery of the faith is learning that everything is sacred.  To believe is to see what is ordinary becoming something extraordinary.  That cup of water could be wine.  That angry man over there could be (actually is) a beloved child of God.   

What does this have to do with our current state of affairs as a nation?  If we know that God is a part of everything, we do not need to be afraid.  And this is an important clarification – we must denounce the stoking of violence and hatred of other that have fueled the flames of our state of affairs.  But a confidence in God’s reign because we know that God is a part of everything and everyone, keeps us from perpetuating the cycle of violence. It keeps us from being afraid.  Because regardless of where you stand on political lines or theological lines, if we believe that God is above all else, then what really do we have to fear?

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How has your faith shaped your understanding of the stories of yesterday? 

 Daily Challenge: Julian of Norwich, who survived an uprising and pandemic, was famous for her prayer, “All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” Try this prayer today when worry seems to take over.

Light Sabers and the Light of Christ – January 6

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 46, 97;  PM Psalm 96, 100; Isa. 52:7-10; Rev. 21:22-27; Matt. 12:14-21

On the twelfth day of Christmas, the godparents sent our kids two light sabers. Think Star Wars…Luke Skywalker…Yoda…The Force. These whimsical weapons are battery-powered and button-activated. One shines blue; the other shines green. And, they make noise. Pulling them out of the box, our five-year-old gasps with delight, “They gave me just what I wanted!” There is chasing, sparring, and general merriment around the living room and down the hallway. The light sabers’ radiating glow shines joy and wonder to our household.

And now, it is January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany – the day we celebrate the making known of Jesus the Messiah to the entire world. In the Christopher Wordsworth hymn “Songs of Thankfulness and Praise”, we sing of this beautiful mystery: God in man made manifest. God became present – embodied – with the world, meeting us in human form. The light of Christ is made apparent, and people are drawn to that light. In Matthew 2:1-12, we read of the bright star that shines and guides the way of the long-traveling magi (or the wisemen). When they see that the star has stopped, they are overwhelmed with joy. They are invited into the home of the holy family and kneel in front of the child Jesus and his mother Mary. The magi pay tribute to this one who is foretold to be the king of the Jews. Their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh are symbols of his royalty.

The glow and renown of Jesus continue to draw people to him – and to praise of the Lord. In the portion of Matthew 12 appointed for today, “many crowds followed him” (v. 15). Jesus heals all of them. Surely there are gasps of delight. Surely there is merriment and wonder. Surely those cured are beaming with the afterglow of holy refreshment. What a scene of joy to behold. What a space of good news and hope. Can you imagine it?

Across the experience of humanity, there is so much pain and loss. Holy Scripture reminds us that God’s power brings relief. We need that assurance that God is good and faithful; the imagery and encouragement in Isaiah 52 deliver that for us today:

How beautiful upon the mountains
   are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news,
   who announces salvation,
   who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’ (v. 7)

In this ancient proclamation, hard things are happening all around God’s people. Through the prophet, the Israelites are called to rely upon the Lord as their guide and source of hope, strength, and salvation.

Are you longing for healing and restoration today? Maybe you suffer from visceral pain in your soul or body. Perhaps there are insipid divisions in your family or work life. Or, you are troubled by toxic animosity in the world around you. Those spaces of darkness cannot withstand the light of Christ, announced to the entire world in the feast of The Epiphany. Jesus vanquishes the darkness and brings hope. Jesus delivers new life. Jesus brings a radiating glow that shines joy and wonder to all corners of the earth.

Let us bow down in gratitude, acknowledging God’s glory. Let us bask in the warmth of Jesus’ light. And may the Holy Spirit embolden us to share the Good News with everyone!

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Where in your living space do you need more light? How have new lightbulbs or a different light fixture changed the feel of a room?

What good news brightened your day in the past week? Who do you know who is needing some good news and hope?

Daily Challenge 

Think of a source of light that brings you peace – a candle, nightlight, lamp, etc. Sit with that image of illumination. Pray for a feeling of peace and restoration. Give thanks to God for the gift of Jesus’ light in the darkness. Then, share words of Christ’s hope with someone around you.

So Great a Cloud of Witnesses - January 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 2, 110:1-5(6-7); Joshua 1:1-9; Heb. 11:32-12:2; John 15:1-16

Today’s Reflection

“Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not, apart from us, be made perfect. Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with persistence the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews 11:39-12:2)

On July 29, 1974, eleven women were ordained to the priesthood at the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia. Those eleven women, and it’s important that we take a moment to remember their names—Merrill Bittner, Alla Bozarth-Campbell, Alison Cheek, Emily Hewitt, Carter Heyward, Suzanne Hiatt, Marie Moorefield, Jeanette Piccard, Betty Schiess, Katrina Swanson, and Nancy Wittig—are now known in the history of the Episcopal Church as The Philadelphia Eleven. Even after the Eleven were ordained, they continued to face barriers to living into the ordained ministry to which they had been called. Because the General Convention of the Episcopal Church had not yet revised the wording of the church canons, many called their ordination invalid.

It wasn’t just these eleven women who I consider to be in the “great cloud of witnesses” that opened the door to women to be ordained as priests. Four bishops—Bishop Daniel Corrigan, Bishop Robert L. DeWitt, Bishop Edward R. Welles II, and Bishop Antonio Ramos—were willing to use their places of privilege to promote equal opportunity for women to serve not only as lay leaders and deacons, but also as priests in the Episcopal Church. At the time, Bishop Ramos noted that this ordination “stands as a prophetic witness on behalf of and for the oppressed.”

The preacher at the ordination service was the vice president of the House of Deputies, Dr. Charles Willie. “It was an unjust law of the state,” he said, “that demeaned the personhood of blacks by requiring them to move to the back of the bus, and it is an unjust law of the church which demeans women by denying them the opportunity to be professional priests.” A few weeks later, when the House of Bishops declared the women’s ordinations invalid, Willie resigned his post as vice president of the House of Deputies in protest, explaining, “In terms of religious values, I believe that love is the basic principle that should govern all social relations, that justice and equity are the manifestations of love in our daily activities, and that freedom is a necessary and essential condition for loving relationships, including those in church and society.”

Dr. Willie, as an African American man, was himself in a group long marginalized in the Episcopal Church as in the rest of U.S. society. I appreciate his prophetic witness, his willingness to stand up and be counted, his willingness to speak out against the “institutional sins” of the Episcopal Church in his time.

It doesn’t really make sense, when we look at it now, that the church would prevent people from fully living into their call to follow Christ and help others to do the same. It would take two more years before women’s access to all orders of ordained ministry would be approved by the General Convention in September 1976. And it would be thirteen more years until the first woman would be ordained a bishop in the U.S. Episcopal Church, when the Rt. Rev. Barbara Harris was ordained and consecrated as bishop suffragan of Massachusetts in 1989.

For the first 30-something years of my life, I was in other denominations where I, as a woman, felt constrained in how I could serve my church. Now, as an ordained priest in the Episcopal Church, I continue to be grateful for the great cloud of witnesses, not only the women who serve as lay leaders, deacons, priests, and bishops, but also for the great cloud of men and women who have supported all God’s people being able to fully live into their baptismal vows and, if called to do so, to prepare for ordination as well.

Many of the great cloud of witnesses who came before us, such as those whose stories I have shared with you here today, took risks, put themselves and their status and their livelihoods and even their lives on the line, so that others would have more equal opportunities to experience all the fullness of Christ. I pray that now, as a priest, I would be willing to take those risks and do the same for others.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Have you ever faced a barrier to something you felt you were meant to do? How did facing that barrier influence how you perceived yourself at the time? Did facing a barrier in your own life change the way you perceived the barriers faced by others?

Daily Challenge

You can read more about the Philadelphia Eleven in this Episcopal church press release from 1974, what they went on to do in their lives post-ordination, and of a reunion of those who remain with us today.

New Year's Advice - January 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 85, 87; PM Psalm 89:1-29; Exod. 3:1-12; Heb. 11:23-31; John 14:6-14

On December 29, 2013, American author, Janet Rebhan, offered some wisdom for the New Year.  I came across her words for the first time this past New Year’s Eve, and like any good advice for how to live, it is often timeless.  Her words resonate powerfully for me as we live into 2021: “In this new year, may you have a deep understanding of your true value and worth, an absolute faith in your unlimited potential, peace of mind in the midst of uncertainty, the confidence to let go when you need to, acceptance to replace your resistance, gratitude to open your heart, the strength to meet your challenges, great love to replace your fear, forgiveness and compassion for those who offend you, clear sight to see your best and true path, hope to dispel obscurity, the conviction to make your dreams come true, meaningful and rewarding synchronicities, dear friends who truly know and love you, a childlike trust in the benevolence of the universe, the humility to remain teachable, the wisdom to fully embrace your life exactly as it is, the understanding that every soul has its own course to follow, the discernment to recognize your own unique inner voice of truth, and the courage to learn to be still.”

I love her advice because it places our outlook and willingness to grow at the center of what we are to experience.  We have a choice – a choice to remain teachable, to have a ‘childlike trust in the benevolence of the universe,’ and the ability to listen to who we are as the people that God has created.   Regardless of what we are to face, the challenges, the hardships, the moments of wonder and awe, and everything between, we do have control of how we face what life throws at us.  While we can’t control what others will do, we can influence how we receive the world. 

I think this same idea resonates with the author of Hebrews who uses Moses’ faith as an example of our own agency, at least in how we can lean on our faith to embrace the challenges of the world.  Moses chooses ill-treatment with the people of God but is able to do so because of his faith.  It is the faith of Moses and his people that they are able to endure challenges such as the passing of the Red Sea, wandering in the desert and fleeing Egypt.

We have different hardships today, but we have a choice in how we embrace life.  My hope for this new year is that your faith will grow.  Maybe your faith will grow from reading our Daily Reflections, or your own study.  Or maybe through conversations with friends, family, or your church.  No matter what life brings, I hope you learn even more deeply to lean on your faith, and through your faith, we can all see the beauty and mystery of God’s love redeeming this world. Faith really does move mountains.  Happy New Year and I look forward to growing with each of you.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What New Year’s resolutions have you made?  How often do your resolutions last?  Why is that?  Are you overly ambitious or not ambitious enough?

Daily Challenge: Print a copy of Rebhan’s advice and put it in a place such as your wallet, purse, or desk and commit to reading it each morning for the next ten days.

The bold truth of Stephen – December 26

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 28, 30; 2 Chronicles 24:17-22; Acts 6:1-7; PM Psalm 118; Wisdom 4:7-15; Acts 7:59-8:8

During the season of Christmas excitement, my parents would turn on the record player. The sounds would fill our back living room, the cozy family space in the house where we had our Christmas tree. My sisters and I would dance, sing along, or play with our stuffed animals, trying to discern which wrapped presents contained our hoped-for gifts – and which were just pajamas. “Good King Wenceslas” by Bing Crosby is one of those standards that sticks in my head from those times. It was one of the few songs I enjoyed playing on the piano, for its jaunty tune and key progression were easy to remember (though I was never sure I was pronouncing Wenceslas correctly).

The history of the song tells us that Wenceslas was royalty from Bohemia (a region of modern-day Germany). He was the son of Charles IV, the Holy Roman Emperor in the 1300s. The song tells of an act of compassion: on the Feast of Stephen on a frosty, frozen night, the prince looked outside and saw a poor man who was hungry and in need. Wenceslas’ actions of folklore resemble those of Stephen, the first of the deacons and martyrs in Christian history.

In Acts today, we hear portions of Stephen’s story. There was tension in the proto-Christian community between the Greek and the Hebrew followers of the Way. Word on the street was that the holy people were not attending to the needs of the Greek widows who were hungry. Maybe they were overwhelmed. Maybe there was prejudice at play. Maybe they did not want to get their hands dirty. Whatever the case among these beautifully broken humans, God broke in, so that more might have a role in serving the causes of the Lord. Seven were appointed to attend to the temporal needs of the whole community. Stephen gets top billing – and for a reason.

When you read the entirety of Acts 6 and 7, you get a sense of Stephen’s passion, knowledge, and power, as he tapped into the gifts of the Holy Spirit through his ministry and proclamation of truth. He was full of grace and the power of God as he healed, fed the hungry, and preached the truth of God’s long-present call to faithfulness. Stephen also pointed to the lapses in faithfulness of the leaders of the Temple:

“You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are for ever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do. Which of the prophets did your ancestors not persecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, and now you have become his betrayers and murderers. You are the ones that received the law as ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it.” (Acts 7:51-53)

Stephen spoke God’s truth, and, unlike the lovely Wenceslas tune that heralds the Feast of Stephen, his words were not welcomed. He was stoned to death in the street.

And yet, as Christians, we follow in the footsteps of Stephen as a source of inspiration, and an example of what living into the life and ministry of Jesus looks like. We aspire to unabashed truth-telling. We aspire to compassionate care for the hungry. We yearn for the hope that in doing the work God calls us to do, we might be filled with grace and truth, like Stephen. And perhaps, some of you kind folks reading this reflection have worshipped at a parish that bears the name of this saint and martyr.

Living into the legacy of Saint Stephen, let us continue to understand and speak the truth, care for those in need, and share the love of God in all that we do.

Merry Christmas!

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When has someone spoken truth to you and you felt uncomfortable? What effect did that have on you?

When have you shared truth with another and it was not well received? Would you do it again?

Daily Challenge

Read Acts 6 and 7. Reflect on Stephen's telling of the history of God's people. Listen for where you have been faithful. Where might you grow in Christ's light to continue serving those in need?

Angels, Shepherds, and the Work of Christmas - December 25

Today’s Readings: Isaiah 9:2-7; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2:1-14(15-20); Psalm 96

Today’s Reflection

Not only did God come down to us in an unexpected way, as a baby born in the humblest of circumstances, but God also brought the good news of this in an unexpected way to an unexpected group of people. Jesus was born to a poor, small town couple, Mary and Joseph, living under the rule of an oppressive regime, the Roman Empire. The Romans ruled their vast empire through fear and intimidation. So, if the Roman governor said, “all the world should be registered” then you’d better believe “all went to their own towns to be registered.” If the Roman regime issued a decree, you followed it.

The shepherds, too, lived in these oppressive circumstances. And then combine that with the unexpectedness of being out in the fields in the darkness of the night with their sheep and being surprised by the bright light and loud voice of the angel of the Lord. When I hear Luke’s account of this, I picture some very fearful shepherds shaking in their sandals. The angel had to reassure them, “Do not be afraid.” Because people living in darkness and oppressed by authority needed reassurance. The angel of the Lord said to them: “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day … a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

What was the shepherds’ response? As we hear in the Gospel of Luke: The shepherds “went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.” As Sarah Snyder, the Archbishop of Canterbury’s adviser for reconciliation, reflects:

“Imagine the shock of the shepherds when their desert peace was shattered by bright lights and heavenly voices. And their surprise when they heard the words of praise, proclaiming peace instead of the unrest they knew existed beyond their campfire. How did they respond? They left their flocks to seek Jesus… The angel of the Lord did not announce the arrival of Jesus to all the world. He chose a little group of shepherds huddled around a single campfire. Then and now, the message of peace was spread person to person. From the angels to the shepherds, to the people they met on their journey, and beyond” (In this Light: Thoughts for Christmas, pp. 34-35, Justin Welby et al.).

The shepherds’ response to the good news brought to them by the angel (or messenger) of the Lord was to go and share that message with everyone they encountered. If you heard such a miraculous message, and then saw and experienced for yourself that it was true by meeting Jesus yourself, wouldn’t you want to share that message, that message of Love coming down to us, with everyone you meet?

Each Christmas, we hear that same message. Each Christmas, we meet that same baby Jesus again, face to face. And each new day we live as people who know the love of Jesus in our hearts and in our lives, we experience daily the reality of the good news that God first shared with humankind through an angel appearing to lowly shepherds, watching over their flocks by night.

How can we, like the angel of the Lord, and like the shepherds, continue to share this “good news of great joy for all the people”? How can we be more like the shepherds—who “went with haste” to see Jesus, then “made known what had been told them,” and finally went back to their own community “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen?” One answer is found in the words of a poem by the Reverend Dr. Howard Thurman, the eminent theologian, philosopher, civil rights leader, and mentor to the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Thurman’s poem is called “The Work of Christmas,” and these are fitting words to carry with us in our hearts and minds as we go forth this day and into the year to come:

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among others,

To make music in the heart.

 —Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

How can we continue to share this “good news of great joy for all the people”?

How can we be more like the shepherds—who “went with haste” to see Jesus, then “made known what had been told them,” and finally went back to their own community “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen?”

Daily Challenge

Read more of how shepherds are depicted in the Bible and art or view the Visual Commentary on Scripture’s online exhibition of three painters’ visions of the adoration of the shepherds.

Staying where you are - December 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 45, 46; Isa. 29:13-24; Rev. 21:22-22:5; Luke 1:39-48a(48b-56)

Merry Christmas Eve!  Tonight, we will celebrate Christmas in a very beautiful way with our children’s pageant at 3pm which is filled with breathtaking cuteness and joy.  At 5pm we will have our service of Lessons and Carols.  I have included the links if you would like to join.  I have been waiting for this moment and this festive celebration for some time which is why I am puzzled by a part of the story that I haven’t paid much attention to before.

Today’s lessons include the Magnificat which is one of the most powerful descriptions of how Mary understands God.  Mary proclaims this beautiful song when she is with Elizabeth and Zechariah.  Elizabeth’s child leaps in the womb when he hears Mary’s voice.  It’s a beautiful story.  And then Mary sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord.”  She shares a vision of God scattering the proud and lifting up the lowly and filling the hungry with good things.  She acknowledges that the rich will be sent away empty.  It’s a powerful witness to how she understands God especially restoring and lifting up people in need. And so, we proclaim her song often in Morning Prayer, read usually at least once a week, if not more. 

But what has me puzzled is the reality that she remains with Elizabeth for about three months. Luke wants us to know this little fact.  Maybe it is odd to me because often, when we are armed with new information, filled with the Spirit, we are eager to proclaim it to the world, to break free, and yet Mary is there to be with Elizabeth for three more months.   Why?  The very next passage is about Elizabeth giving birth, and I assume Mary has gone home just before this so why the waiting?  Maybe that was all too much. 

Maybe its an invitation to embrace this moment.  As we have been longing for what is next, we are reminded once again that God’s love is here, not somewhere far off, but already in our midst.  The challenge is learning how not to rush to what is next. With Christmas this evening and the next, how can we hold onto this moment, at the very least for the entire season of Christmas?  How can we all learn to sit with God and God’s joy, even when we are anticipating what is next?  It’s been a challenging lesson this 2020 but God’s love is always with us.  Learning to lean on God’s love is a practice in patience and mindfulness but as challenges arise in the coming days, may Mary’s practice of staying where we are, shape our own.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Are you more of a “savor the moment” or “eager for what is next” kind of person? Any thought as to why?

Daily Challenge:  Make a list of ten things that you are grateful for this very moment.

"Everyone is just trying to get home" - December 23

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 111, 113; Isa. 28:9-22; Rev. 21:9-21; Luke 1:26-38

Our dear friend Hollie gave Sam (my husband) a book recently called The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse. Sam was moved by its invitation to reflection and vulnerability. After hearing the two of them extol its virtues, I pulled the book from the living room shelf the other day and read it. What I saw in this work by Charlie Mackesy was a little bit of Winnie the Pooh, a little bit of Proverbs, and beautifully messy illustrations, like life. Among the many sage one-liners within the pages of this lovely piece of art, what resonated with me this morning was a line from the mole, one of the four characters in this book. The mole says, “I think everyone is just trying to get home.”

The people in Isaiah were in exile, far from their native home. Everything was different. Even the priests and others faithful to Yahweh were weary and tired, out of God’s land and away from their place of comfort and rest. The prophet called out to the Hebrew people, prophesying to them to open their ears. What they heard was drivel and noise; the words did not make sense and they were not paying attention. Their faith had waned. Their home in exile was a space of discomfort and trial. Yet, God’s promise continued: a home in Zion with sure foundation and level stones.

There is a Christmas standard I usually hear during this time: “There’s no place like home for the holidays…” As we bear down on the final days of Advent, before the breaking forth of Christmas morning and the celebration of the birth of a long-promised baby named Jesus, I am wondering where the home of your heart is today. Do you feel conflict or tension with the home of others’ expectation? Said another way: do those around you understand what home means to you? Do your family or friends have other hopes and visions of what “home for the holidays” looks like? There are spaces of stress during Christmas leaving us feeling torn and expected in multiple places – and this year, with COVID-19 cases skyrocketing and hospitals diverting patients to other facilities, many families and friends are revising what homes they will visit during Christmas. Maybe you feel heartbroken that the homes and people of your holiday routine are disrupted and absent. Perhaps that leaves you relieved that you are staying at your own residence in peace. Or, due to loss or change, your current home is no longer a place you recognize or want to be. If, as the mole says, we are all trying to get home, where are you longing to be today?

Regardless of where you find yourself right now, know these two things: you are not alone and you are deeply loved by God. Saint Stephen’s is holding a service for The Longest Night tonight at 6:30 p.m. to honor those spaces of emptiness, loss, and disappointment that collide with the gaity of the Christmas season. I invite you read a short reflection on The Longest Night service, and then join us online on YouTube or Facebook to find rest and refreshment in music, prayer, a short sermon, and knowing that our virtual gathering is a real gathering in the presence and home of God.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection



Where is home for you today? Who is in that home with you? Who do you miss? Who brings you most peace in that space?

Daily Challenge

Take three minutes to breathe deeply and imagine a space of home with God. Imagine a space of completeness and perfection. Let go of the clutter that impedes your movement in that home. Feel gratitude for the beauty and oneness in that space. Now, open your eyes and reconnect with what is presently around you. Continue that space of gratitude of the home of now, and cling to the hope of that more perfect home, with God’s help.

Expecting the Unexpected - December 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 66, 67; PM Psalm 116, 117; Isa. 11:10-16; Rev. 20:11-21:8; Luke 1:5-25

Today’s Reflection

Advent is a season of expectation. It’s that liturgical season in which we recreate the original waiting for the Messiah—both the centuries of waiting by the people of Israel, as well as the months of waiting by Mary for her baby to be born. Oftentimes when we wait for or anticipate something or someone, we think we know what we are waiting for—but then sometimes we find that whatever or whomever we were expecting ends up not being what or who we were anticipating. When this happens enough times, we may even learn to expect the unexpected or to anticipate the unanticipated. But I have also found that when what I had been expecting unfolds differently, that oftentimes that different outcome ends up being even better than what I had anticipated.

While Matthew introduces us to John the Baptist when he was a grown man, out in the wilderness of Judea, if we look at Luke’s Gospel account, we learn much more about John’s parents and how John came to be. John’s father was Zechariah, a temple priest, and his mother Elizabeth, also from a priestly family, was a descendant of Aaron. As Luke describes, Zechariah and Elizabeth “were both righteous before God, living according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years.” Elizabeth and Zechariah were at the point in life when they were no longer anticipating having children—they expected to continue as they were, a family of two.

So, imagine how unexpected it was for Zechariah, as he went into the inner sanctum of the temple to burn incense, to encounter an angel of the Lord. That’s unexpected enough, but then what the angel told Zechariah was even more unexpected: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John.” And not only that, but he learned from the angel that this as-yet-unborn son John “will be great before the Lord… and will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother’s womb. And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God.” And all that the angel said they should expect, as unexpected as it was, came to pass.

Several months later, when Elizabeth’s young cousin Mary came to stay with them, the baby in Elizabeth’s womb, whom we would later know as John the Baptist, “leaped” in Elizabeth’s womb. Baby John leapt in the presence of the other baby, the one in Mary’s womb, Jesus—and by this sign Elizabeth recognized that her cousin, Mary, was the theotokos, or the God-bearer. What could be more unexpected than that—that the long-anticipated Messiah would come to the people of Israel as a baby born of a poor young woman from Nazareth in Galilee.

Elizabeth and Zechariah’s baby, John, “grew and became strong in spirit” (1:80). Rough around the edges, John did not proclaim a gentle or easy-to-digest Gospel. This is consistent with the way he presented himself visually as well. As Luke describes later, “Now John wore a garment of camel’s hair and a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey.” That the coming of the long-expected Messiah, whose sandals John said he was not worthy to carry, would be heralded by this rough sounding, poor man of the desert, may have seemed unexpected. Surely the coming Messiah would be expected to be heralded by someone of higher social standing, someone with more polished appearance and demeanor.

And yet, the one preparing the way for the Lord was John—an unexpected son who became an unexpected prophet of a much-anticipated Messiah. Looking back from our vantage point now, John makes senses as Jesus’ precursor, because Jesus, too, was a most unexpected child who grew into a man who would save the world in a most unexpected way, giving up himself for our sake.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Think of something that has happened in your life, whether momentous or mundane, that has not gone to plan. What had been your expectation of how it would go? How did this event actually unfold? Reflect on how you navigated and made sense of the difference between reality and your expectations at that time. Then reflect on how you make sense of it all looking back now. What do you think you learned?

Daily Challenge

Take a few minutes to learn more about who Elizabeth was and how the experience of “barrenness” is often portrayed in Scripture as “a harbinger of the miraculous birth of a divinely chosen male leader.” Or take a look at the Visual Commentary on Scripture to see three artists’ depictions of Elizabeth with her cousin Mary.

Living in Harmony - December 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 61, 62; PM Psalm 112, 115; Isa. 11:1-9; Rev. 20:1-10; John 5:30-47

When Ruth Bader Ginsburg died a few months ago, one of the most popular stories shared on social media was about her deep and abiding friendship with fellow Supreme Court justice, Anthony Scalia.  I remember one of the headlines in USA Today, which included the phrase, “the unlikely friendship.”  The article, and many others, assumed that in this time of bitter partisan hostility, that people with drastically competing views shouldn’t (or couldn’t) be friends.  I’ll admit, I found this story especially comforting as well, a reminder that humanity is not held by an ideological silo. 

One of the views that I struggle with is advocating for our wonderful nation to be specifically a Christian nation. Many people refer to this as Christian nationalism. This might seem odd as a priest.  It is my identity to not only follow Jesus but to lead people to God’s radical way of love in Jesus Christ. And I do believe that if more people committed themselves to the life-giving way of Jesus Christ, our country would be an infinitely more loving and whole place.  But I struggle with the notion that we must universally conform to that character or ideal.  That should instead be the individual work of all of us who have proclaimed in our Baptism to commit to sharing by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. 

In today’s Old Testament passage, we hear the famous lines from Isaiah of the promise of the reign of God.  Isaiah uses some powerful imagery when he writes, “the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie die down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them” (11:6).  My favorite reminder continues in verse 9, “they will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.” It’s not surprising that Isaiah doesn’t imagine the kingdom of heaven as a place filled only with lambs and kids.  Instead, it is a place where the cow and bear, the nursing child and the asp can live in harmony.

The real Gift that we come to expect at Christmas is the mystery of God’s incarnation being recognized in all of creation. Just as Isaiah writes, the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD. The God that dwells with us, is still here among us, in a person and creature we meet.  We just need to learn how to see it (knowledge).  If Isaiah’s prophecy is to be fulfilled, all then that is necessary for the reign of God is learning to live together in harmony.  This year (and arguably every other year) has taught us just how difficult that can be. There will always be lions and calves, wolves and lambs, leopards and kids.  There will always be humans who see the world differently, but we are all children of God, and the kingdom invites us into living in harmony together.  Could it really be a simple as seeing God’s Incarnation in each other?

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Who do you struggle to imagine living in harmony with?  What steps could you take to change that?  Who do you identify within the passage from Isaiah?

Daily Challenge:   Go deeper by researching stories of radical forgiveness.  One incredible account has been the people of Rwanda choosing radical forgiveness after the genocide against the Tutsi’s 26 years ago.  Here is a starting place.

Dreams for the present and future – December 19

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 138, 139:1-17(18-23); Isa. 10:20-27; Jude 17-25; Luke 3:1-9

Several friends have welcomed new babies in this last quarter of 2020. As I see photos of these darling bundles of soft skin and squeaky grunts, there are parents in the wings who are simultaneously thrilled, confused, and overwhelmed. Whether or not you’ve raised children of your own, we all have a common connection here: we were all once those tiny people, vulnerable and fully reliant on someone else to raise us. Someone gazed upon you with a loving countenance and said our name. They spoke hopes for your future. They wondered what you would become. What do you know of those hopes and dreams others held for you?

And now, you are grown. Perhaps you have children in your life today and wonder what life will be like for them as they grow. Maybe you pray for those children to be smart and kind, healthy and accomplished, courageous and happy. What of those hopes and prayers do you write down or share with that child as she matures?

We hear the hopes of one child when we read Canticle 16 during Morning Prayer (page 92 in the Book of Common Prayer). This is called the Song of Zechariah and is a prophetic vision from the book of Luke (1:67-79). Zechariah was a priest of advanced age. He and his wife Elizabeth had no children, until one day when they were visited by an angel, who forecast the impact their child-to-come would make on Israel. Elizabeth did have a child, and they named the baby John. When the boy was eight days old, Zechariah had a moment of divine inspiration and proclaimed a prophecy about God and the path his son would take. John would be called a prophet of God, for he would “go before the Lord to prepare his ways”. He would open people’s minds to the saving grace of the Lord through calling them to repent and be forgiven for their sins. And always with God’s help, light would shine on “those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” and “guide our feet into the way of peace”.

Whew! That’s a tall order and high bar set for a baby boy…and yet, in Luke 3 today, that is exactly what we hear happening. Amid the esteem of earthly powers laid out, the author writes that the word of God came to John son of Zechariah. He proclaimed “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” – and not just to get right with Yahweh and neighbors, but for a bigger purpose: to prepare the way of the Lord. John recited prophecy from Isaiah to open the ears and hearts of those around him. He confronted people brusquely, that the ceremonial baptism they might be seeking was much more than that. God was calling for transformed lives, and for Israelites to bear good fruit – of care of the needy, of humility before God, and dedication to leaving behind the darkness to live in the light of salvation.

God’s work is not yet complete in you or me. The hopes and prayers of those who raised us, and of God who loves us, are still present. Whether or not your approach is like the firebrand John the Baptist, let us each pray about our role in making the path straight for the Lord. What in our lives needs redeeming? What stumbling blocks are littering the path of our relationships with God? Now is the time to make that path straight…and the promise is God’s saving grace.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What hopes and dreams did your elders have for you? What are the hopes and dreams you have for a child in your life?

Daily Challenge

Write down what prayers, hopes, and dreams you have for a child in your life. Set them aside, so that as they grow older, they can one day read these special words from you.