Holy peace - August 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14); PM Psalm 110:1-5(6-7), 116, 117
1 Kings 7:51-8:21; Acts 28:17-31; Mark 14:43-52

Sometimes when there is much heaviness going on, it is helpful for me to gain perspective. I feel called to look back. Way back. About 1,600 years. To Saint Augustine of Hippo, who died on this day in 430 CE. He was born in north Africa, near a port city upon the Mediterranean Sea, in modern day Algeria in 354 CE. He was a student of philosophy, taught rhetoric, and traveled to Italy to expand his horizons and make his fortune. Augustine was a prolific writer and perpetual learner; he sought to understand God through various religions and contemplative processes. Manicheeism. Neo-Platonism. His mother Monnica was a person of deep Christian faith and had raised him in the Church; it took Augustine a while to come around. Around the age of 30, he had a divine reckoning, realizing how vast the gap was between the reality of his indulgent life and the glory of what life could be living into faithful in God. For all his brilliance and esteem, nothing compared to God. Bishop Ambrose in Milan – another influential ecclesiastical icon and theologian of the 4th century – was able to field Augustine’s many questions. On Easter 387, he was baptized by Ambrose.

Baptism was a true new beginning for Augustine. He began writing and contemplating his own walk with Christ. He moved back to north Africa. At church one day in 391, the bishop in Hippo preached in the sermon, “This congregation is in need of more priests, and I believe that the ordination of Augustine would be to the glory of God.” As I understand it, people in the congregation – immediately – escorted him to the clergy, the bishop and priests laid hands on him, and he was ordained to the priesthood! (Can you imagine how memorable that day must have been?) This life-changing experience surely played a part in his musings of God’s work in our lives. For example, take the question, “Does a man come to God because he has chosen to do so, or because God has chosen him, and drawn him to Himself?” If you would like to know more about Augustine’s faith journey, his book Confessions is his personal account and one of his many written works.

Another work of Augustine which piqued my interest this morning was De Civitatae Dei (The City of God). While Confessions is a memoir of sorts, this next great work is a fascinating exploration of the role of the Church in the world. He disputes that it was not Christianity that had caused all of the evil in the world (as the Visigoths sacked Rome and the Holy Roman Empire was falling apart at this time). He also examines whether or not Christianity actually makes the world a better place, if this place we live in as the “earthly city” truly has a transcendent counterpart in the “heavenly city” or “city of God”.

Augustine hones his message about good and evil into this fine point in Chapter 4 of The City of God:

“If I am asked…what this City thinks of the supreme good and ultimate evil, the answer would be: She holds that eternal life is the supreme good and eternal death is the supreme evil, and that we should live rightly in order to obtain the one and avoid the other. Hence the Scriptural expression, “the just man lives by faith” (Gal. 3:11) – by faith for the fact is that we do not now behold our good and, therefore, must seek it by faith; nor can we of ourselves even live rightly, unless He who gives us faith helps us to believe and pray, for it takes faith to believe that we need His help.”

He breaks this down even more as he explores the virtues of temperance, prudence, justice, and fortitude. Rather than presenting them as human qualities, these virtues are gifts from God that help us bear the temptations and evil around us. Augustine eviscerates the Stoic concepts of finding good in this present life and that humans can be the source of their own happiness. Having lived fully (and self-indulgently) before his conversion to Christianity, Augustine understands that his own actions did not result in good. Through God’s grace, his eyes have been opened; he is adamant in the reliance upon God for goodness and joy.

Augustine also explores peace, calling it “our highest good”. He says of Jerusalem, “the mystical name which symbolized this City, means, ‘the vision of peace.’” Critiquing the ways we understand peace, the theologian observes that humans often pray for peace on earth – where life is fragile and time is fleeting. Nevertheless, peace is most desired. “Peace is so universally loved that its very name falls sweetly on the ear,” writes Augustine.

Everyone wants peace, and yet people often resort to violence to reach peace for themselves – not withstanding the havoc wreaked upon others. Augustine writes these words that ring true and uncomfortable: “Thus it is that all men want peace in their own society, and all want it in their own way. When they go to war what they want is to make, if they can, their enemies their own, and then to impose on them the victor’s will and call it peace.” (Chapter 12)

Friends, there is unrest all around us, with disease, natural disasters, conflicts at home and abroad. I do not have all of the answers, and neither does Bishop Augustine. However, he does write this about peace, and I share his ancient words of wisdom with you from Chapter 13 of The City of God in closing:

“The peace, then, of the body lies in the ordered equilibrium of all its parts; the peace of the irrational soul, in the balanced adjustment of its appetites; the peace of the reasoning soul, in the harmonious correspondence of conduct and conviction; the peace of body and soul taken together, in the well-ordered life and health of the living whole. Peace between a mortal man and his Maker consists in ordered obedience, guided by faith, under God’s eternal law; peace between man and man consists in regulated fellowship. The peace of a home lies in the ordered harmony of authority and obedience between the members of a family living together. The peace of the political community is an ordered harmony of authority and obedience between citizens. The peace of the heavenly City lies in a perfectly ordered and harmonious communion of those who find their joy in God and in one another in God. Peace, in its final sense, is the calm that comes of order. Order is an arrangement of like and unlike things whereby each of them is disposed in its proper place.”

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What do you believe about the sources of good and evil in the world?

What does happiness look like for you today? What does peace mean for you right now?

Daily Challenge

Join me in praying the Collect for Peace (BCP pg. 99):

O God, the author of peace and lover of concord, to know you is eternal life and to serve you is perfect freedom: Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries; through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Shipwrecked and Snakebitten - August 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; 1 Kings 5:1-6:1,7; Acts 28:1-16; Mark 14:27-42

Today’s Reflection

As we’ve been reading through the Acts of the Apostles these past several weeks in our Daily Lectionary, you’ve probably picked up on a central theme: those who follow the Way of Christ are called to a life that may seem very different than the people and cultures around them. The Apostle Paul is cast as being a very different kind of man than other characters we meet in the apostles’ stories, as told by Luke. Just the other day, in Tuesday’s reflection, I looked at how Festus, a local government official, said to Paul, “You must be out of your mind, Paul! Too much learning has driven you insane!” That’s how different Paul seemed from everyone else—that he was seen as being out of his mind.

People who go against the grain stand out to other people. In today’s reading from Acts 28 (the final chapter in Acts), Paul and his shipmates end up washing ashore on the island of Malta. Storms had set them off course for a while, but now they are on Malta, which put them back on course in their journey toward Rome. When they wash up on the island, it was rainy and cold, so Paul set about building a fire: “When Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks and put them on the fire, a viper came out because of the heat and fastened on his hand.” The Maltese islanders at first assumed this was a bad omen about Paul. Everyone is surprised, then when Paul “shook off the creature into the fire and suffered no harm. They were waiting for him to swell up or suddenly fall down dead. But when they had waited a long time and saw no misfortune come to him, they changed their minds and said that he was a god.”

A seminary classmate in the year ahead of me, Philip, was known around campus to be “the snake handler.” More than once when there was a snake either on campus or in the sidewalk or street near our family housing, Philip was always called to the scene. People took pictures on their phones, which were of course shared on social media and fed into the legend in the making of Philip the snake handler. This isn’t the only thing that marked him as different. I remember when I visited campus as a prospective student, he was the one who was wearing his black cassock around campus to classes and to lunch—and he was known to break out his authentic Scottish kilt for special occasions. Philip was different—but in so many good ways. He worked as a social worker before seminary, so he was a really good at listening and understanding. He walked my daughter to school a couple days a week the semester that my ethics professor was tired of me rolling into class late (the school bell rang at 7:45 a.m., and I needed to be in my seat in ethics by 8 a.m.). Philip and his family were our neighbors and some of the most warm and welcoming people we knew during our time in Austin. Being a snake handler was just one of the outward signs of his inward condition as a person who couldn’t help but be salt and light, spreading the love of Christ wherever he went. (And he’s still doing that today as a priest in a nearby diocese.)

Paul and Philip both remind me of that Apple ad campaign from back in 1997-98: Think Different. There are two versions of this television commercial, one narrated by Richard Dreyfuss and the other by Steve Jobs himself. The one-minute ad celebrates people from across time and place who went against the grain—Albert Einstein, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Maria Callas, and several others—and encourages others to follow suit. Setting aside the fact that this whole campaign was devised to get more people to think the same and buy Apple products (that’s gone pretty well for them), the television ads, magazine spreads, billboards, and posters left a strong imprint on U.S. and global pop culture:

Here’s to the crazy ones.
The misfits.
The rebels.
The troublemakers.
The round pegs in the square holes.

The ones who see things differently.

They're not fond of rules.
And they have no respect for the status quo.

You can quote them, disagree with them,
glorify or vilify them.
About the only thing you can't do is ignore them.

Because they change things.

They push the human race forward.

While some may see them as the crazy ones,
we see genius.

Because the people who are crazy enough to think
they can change the world, are the ones who do.

As we consider the life and travels of Paul—especially his great turn-around from persecutor of Christians to becoming the chief evangelist and missionary of his time—it’s important to reflect on the ways his words and actions went against the grain, the ways in which he struck others in the ways he thought differently. Even when bitten by a viper, Paul’s reacted differently—he was not overcome by fear, but in confidence he believed he was fully protected by God.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When have you felt like you didn’t fit in with the people around you? When has that been a good thing? When has that felt like more of a challenge?

Daily Challenge

You can see the Think Different ad campaign here.

The Blessing Business - August 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 18:1-20; PM Psalm 18:21-50; 1 Kings 3:16-28; Acts 27:27-44; Mark 14:12-26

One of my favorite conversations to have with people is to share what I love about our tradition as Episcopalians.  A person recently asked about our upcoming Blessing of the Solar Panels.  On September 29 at 6 p.m., we are going to hoist the bishop above our church, and she will sprinkle water on our newly installed solar panels.  We will sing a song or two, say some prayers, and celebrate something beautiful and incredible including becoming the first church in Birmingham harnessing God’s awesome gift of energy through the sun. 

Our planning for this event has me thinking about blessings, or what is really the acknowledgment that what is ordinary to some has become a sacred and blessed gift from God.  We bless animals around the feast of St. Francis because our pets bring us joy, companionship, and life.  We bless backpacks around the start of school because learning is a gift from God and a new school year can be an opportunity to use our gifts of creativity bestowed upon us by our creator.  We bless relationships because they teach us about God’s love for us through our commitment to each other.   I like to joke (but it is also true) that “We are in the blessing business!”

There is an important pattern shared in the last supper that we hear each week in the Eucharist and specifically in Mark’s Gospel passage for today.  Jesus takes bread.  He then blesses bread, breaks it, and shares it with the disciples.  It is the pattern of blessing that we are instructed to do each week.  Many write about it as the four-fold action of the Eucharist of taking, blessing, breaking, and giving.  This action is significant because it goes so far beyond just learning that something is a gift from God but making it sharable (breaking it) and then giving it away.

We are in the blessing business.  Our theology of seeing what God has done and made holy and then naming it is so important.  And yet today’s reading is also a reminder that just naming something as holy is not the complete action of what we are called to do.  This four-fold pattern could be our model for not just the Eucharist but how we share God’s gifts in the world.  How are we taking what God has made that is Holy, breaking it (making it sharable), and giving it away?

Another parishioner brought some St. Christopher medals by the Church to be blessed the other day.  Yes, we Episcopalians can do that too.  They were gifts for a child and some friends’ children.  She saw the medals as a pledge of protection for young drivers.  And as I read the words of institution in Mark’s Gospel, it reminds me too that, she has made a gift of seeing our young people’s responsibility of driving as holy, and in this little act shared that gift with a few others. 

That’s our charge too.  We’ve got a lot of work to do in naming what God has done, and what God is still doing.  But we have to do it in a way that extends far beyond our own lives.  We take what we know and what we have been given, and we give it away.  Our lives are enriched, and so are others.  Friends, let us be in the “Blessing Business” a business that only grows when we give everything away!

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What in your life has been blessed?  How do you think about God’s blessing?  How do share God’s blessing?

Daily Challenge:  If you were to create a blessing service for the church of something that we don’t already bless, what would it be?   Email me and share your idea. 

Revelations in a mighty wind – August 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; 1 Kings 3:1-15; Acts 27:9-26; Mark 14:1-11

Our ten-year-old came home sick last week from school and tested positive for COVID-19. Her symptoms have been mild and we anticipate she will make a full recovery. Her diagnosis means quarantining in the house and in isolation for 10 days. A few days into her room-bound situation, I remembered the setting of a movie I first watched when I was Josephine’s age…a grandfather (played by Peter Falk) reads a story of adventure to his recovering grandson (played by Fred Savage). I loved the movie so much that for Christmas, I also received the book by the same name, The Princess Bride by William Goldman.

As Josephine was cooped up, I had visions of sharing the tale of “fencing, fighting, true love, miracles”, and so I set up in the hallway outside of her room, propped against pillows. I began to read aloud. Page after page. She is entranced by the story (a little different from the movie) and I am thrilled to get to read it with her. Last night, we read a passage about a princess from the neighboring country of Guilder visiting the country in question, Florin. Princess Noreena was a potential bride for the pompous Prince Humperdinck. As they are having a stately and festive meal, a huge wind sweeps through the great hall – so powerful that it is referred to as a nor’easter – creating havoc by ultimately ripping off the princess’ hat, only to reveal she is bald.

As I relish reading this book to my daughter, I thought it would merely be funny to work it in to a reflection at some point. What I did not realize was that this very morning in the Acts of the Apostles, we would be reading of a steady south wind that began to blow, that then turned into a northeaster. Paul and his compatriots on the boat were whisked out of their planned path and tossed about savagely. Without food and tackle, as they tried to lighten their load by all means, Paul gives a speech. First, he admonishes them, saying that he wished they had heeded his warnings against travel. Nevertheless, he encourages them to stay strong and “keep up your courage, for there will be no loss of life among you, only of the ship.” (v. 22) He then tells them of an angel from God who came to him and imparted words of encouragement, “Do not be afraid, Paul; you must stand before the emperor; and indeed, God has granted safety to all those who are sailing with you.” (v. 25)

The days around us are windy. We get diverted down paths that we had not intended. Plans change and we feel afraid. Or irate. Or devastated. So, if you are on an unwanted pathway or part of the ocean today, hear Paul’s words to those sailing with him: “So keep up your courage, [folks], for I have faith in God that it will be exactly as I have been told. But we will have to run aground on some island.”

Hang in there, friends. Pick up a good book to read and keep saying prayers to our God who is always present when we are in need.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What is a memory you have of being sick? Who helped care for you? What nourished you?

Who is someone you have cared for?

Daily Challenge
Think of someone who is going through an unexpectedly hard time. Take twenty minutes to do two things: first, pray for that person. Ask God to guide your hands and heart in ways to bring stillness and encouragement. Second, reach out to that person through a card or phone call. Let them know you are praying for them.

Too Much Learning?! - August 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 5, 6; PM Psalm 10, 11; 1 Kings 1:38-2:4; Acts 26:24-27:8; Mark 13:28-37

Today’s Reflection

“While he [Paul] was making this defense, Festus exclaimed, ‘You are out of your mind, Paul! Too much learning is driving you insane!’” (Acts 26:24). This line really jumped out at me as I was reading the Acts passage for today. I mean, can you really ever have too much learning? (I know I’m strongly biased on this subject, but I truly think it’s impossible to learn too much—though it’s certainly possibly to overthink things.)

To set this colorful quote in context, Paul has just shared again the dramatic story of his conversion on the road to Damascus. He really did “see the light,” and so much so that he was physically struck down and temporarily blinded. As Paul heard and took to heart the voice of God speaking to him, his way of life and outlook on himself and other people was totally changed. To have a conversion experience means to be turned around, to begin walking in a new direction—turning away from sin and darkness, turning toward God’s way of love and light.

Now considering that, prior to his conversion, Paul was well known and respected for his knowledge of the Jewish scriptures and laws—“a Pharisee among Pharisees” as Paul described himself later—it may be that some people, like Festus, a local Roman official, interpreted that Paul had taken his love of learning and the law several steps too far. Here is Paul, known for his strict adherence to the Jewish faith—someone who took these beliefs to an extreme, to the point of tracking down and punishing people who were turning their lives toward the Way (as the new Christian beliefs were known at the time). Maybe, people like Festus thought, Paul has just gotten so caught up in the life of the mind, of studying the scrolls, that he has finally just lost touch with reality: “You are out of your mind, Paul! Too much learning is driving you insane!”

The truth is, all those years of studying the Jewish holy scriptures had primed Paul for seeing the light of Christ on the road to Damascus. In his conversion experience, everything finally clicked, and Paul was able to see very clearly how Jesus was the fulfillment of centuries of prophetic writings about a long-awaited Messiah (or one sent by God to save his people). While from the outside looking in it seemed (to people like Festus) that Paul was out of his mind, in truth Paul’s major life turn was a moment of clarity. Once Paul had this moment of clarity, he felt called to share this good news with everyone he could meet—and began traveling the region doing just that.

As Paul explained this turn-around, Agrippa sensed that Paul was trying to persuade him to make a turn-around in his own life: “Agrippa said to Paul, ‘Are you so quickly persuading me to become a Christian?’ Paul replied, ‘Whether quickly or not, I pray to God that not only you but also all who are listening to me today might become such as I am—except for these chains’” (Acts 26: 28-29).

Paul’s long-time love of learning the laws and scriptures, and then his embrace of a new Way of life and of thinking about those scriptures, puts me in mind of what happens when we read a book that changes us—or when we have a conversation with someone that gives us such a different perspective that we see something or someone (or even ourselves) from a totally new point of view. For those who are open to it, we have an opportunity to have our own conversion experiences when we allow ourselves to continue to be formed through reading books and scriptures, having honest conversations, and embracing new experiences of living in community with others.

Paul found that, far from going out of his mind, opening his mind and heart to a new Way of believing had set him free—and he wanted to see others open their minds and hearts to being set free and set upon a new path, too. As we look toward the beginning of our fall program season here at Saint Stephen’s, I hope that you will consider reading a book, joining a Bible study, or a committing to a small group that will help you as you continue to walk in the Way of Christ’s life-changing light and love. And, with the Apostle Paul, I promise that too much learning will not drive you insane.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What is a book you have read or a class you have taken that stands out as one that changed how you see the world, other people, or yourself? Why?

Daily Challenge

Take a look at our Fall 2021 adult learning program guide and pray about which group (or groups) God may be leading you to share life and learning with this year. If you feel overwhelmed by the choices, connect with me to have a conversation about which small group might work best for you.

The God that Raises Jesus from the Dead - August 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; PM Psalm 4, 7; 1 Kings 1:5-31; Acts 26:1-23; Mark 13:14-27

The last few weeks feel quite a bit heavier than usual, and that is probably saying something considering how challenging the last year and a half have been for so many.   There are a few Articles in The Atlantic that capture this but the headline for one was especially striking: “Parents Are Not Okay” and the author’s tagline is “We are not even at a breaking point anymore. We’re broken.”  That’s a tough one to swallow, and it hits a little too close to home.  Wildfires are raging in the west, the border is a mess in the south, an earthquake and political turmoil have ravaged our friends in Haiti, and the tragedy in Afghanistan is a nightmare for millions of people.  And like every other day, countless people have challenges that they face, and yet it almost feels like we collectively are less empathetic than we were a few months ago.  Is that what it means to be broken?

In the twenty-sixth chapter of Acts, Paul is imprisoned in Caesarea, and he is brought before King Agrippa.  He is grateful to King Agrippa because the king understands his Jewish faith with which Paul has been accused of violating Torah.   I love the question that Paul asks King Agrippa.  “Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead?”  Paul is in jail and has started an entire revolution over this one fact: that God can raise the dead.  Of all the controversial things we get upset about, this is what brings about Paul’s imprisonment and a worldwide revolution.

There is a pendulum in Christianity, especially in more mainline Christianity.  The thrust of our faith is so often focused on love of neighbor.  Much of the teachings of the Gospel are on expanding the notion of who is neighbor.  For example, the parable of the Good Samaritan is not about a good deed done by a stranger, but the story goes much further to remind us that even the enemy is our neighbor.  And yet, a consideration that I am wrestling with is how do we love when our well is dry?  How do we love when our empathy is gone (an Alabama Doctor made national news by lamenting that he is refusing to treat unvaccinated patients)?

The other end of the pendulum is the incredible power of God.  Maybe this morning more than ever, we need to be reminded that we don’t follow Jesus Christ or the sole reason that it teaches us to have love and empathy for every human being.  And yes, that is an incredible and one of the most important tenets of the faith.  But if we are broken, our empathy and love have limitations.  We follow Jesus because God raised Christ from the dead and gives life to us as well.

It feels heavier today, but our faith is a reminder that God’s power and agency are the greatest force in this world.  It might be heavier today, but it won’t always feel this way.  This was hard to believe for the Jewish people who had Paul imprisoned.  But Paul knew that God could bring life to any situation.  And we follow Jesus because we believe that too.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Do you pay attention to your own levels of empathy?  How have the last few months felt to you?  

Daily Challenge:  Read the articles that are referenced in the article.  They are tough to read, but then consider how our faith in God’s work in Christ can change our outlook.

Reflections on Sunrise at Sunset – August 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 137:1-6(7-9), 144; PM Psalm 104; 2 Samuel 23:1-7,13-17; Acts 25:13-27; Mark 13:1-13

I remember as a kid there were many times I would go to a window in my room and look out at the world around me. I would look out into the pecan trees and watch squirrels race up and down the limbs. I would look out and see our neighbor Steven mowing the grass, or tending the lovely gardens. I would look down to see what was growing on the ground just below, taking stock of perception and what can be seen from a second-story window. I would look up to the sky, remembering the nautical wisdom oft repeated in our house, “Red in the morning, sailors take warning; red at night, sailors delight.” I guess I still take a little time each morning to look out the window and behold the morning sky. It is almost as if looking around helps me begin the day with a new breath, a new perspective, and a grateful heart.

In 2 Samuel today, we are in the penultimate chapter of this book, and nearing the end of King David’s life. We have presented before us the “official” last words of David. I have read them and re-read them this morning. I feel a mixture of appreciation and sadness for David. He has lived this life of beauty, of battle, of betrayal, of loss. These last words are delivered from a different prospect than the shepherd boy or the valiant fighter. David is keenly aware of God’s movement in and influence upon his days, but his physical beauty is not a factor, as we often read from earlier in his life. His words are lyrical, yet they are not composed exactly as psalms (see this excerpt from 2 Samuel 22 for comparison). David begins like this:

The oracle of David, son of Jesse,
   the oracle of the man whom God exalted,
the anointed of the God of Jacob,
   the favorite of the Strong One of Israel:

The spirit of the Lord speaks through me,
   his word is upon my tongue.

Continuing, David delivers wisdom from Yahweh that perhaps resonates with what he has gleaned from his own long-lived experience:

The God of Israel has spoken,
   the Rock of Israel has said to me:
One who rules over people justly,
   ruling in the fear of God,
is like the light of morning,
   like the sun rising on a cloudless morning,
   gleaming from the rain on the grassy land.

I imagine the aging king brings wisdom and gravitas in his final words, noting that these are the words God is telling him to say. The words pouring from David’s mouth surely ring in truth with his own life. When he led justly and centered upon God, beauty beamed forth from the land, “like the sun rising on a cloudless morning”. Dewdrops reflected the glory of the Lord in the shimmering light. Sitting with these words, I can feel the stillness and peace in this kingdom.

David closes with these three final verses, moving from speaking God’s word to his own insights:

Is not my house like this with God?
   For he has made with me an everlasting covenant,
   ordered in all things and secure.
Will he not cause to prosper
   all my help and my desire?
But the [worthless] are all like thorns that are thrown away;
   for they cannot be picked up with the hand;
to touch them one uses an iron bar
   or the shaft of a spear.
   And they are entirely consumed in fire on the spot.

As the king looks back on his life, he sees that on a high level, he lived and reigned like this hopeful image of sunrise. David knows that God was present with him, bringing growth and help in times of need. God has been a source of security for David’s strong house. David then makes a statement about those who live apart from God – called the godless in some translations, or the evil ones or the worthless in other versions of the Bible. David concludes that these people are prickly and problematic, prone to be involved in fights, and perhaps perish in fire.

Rather than pointing at others who were in this “sinner” category, I believe that David is attuned to how he was amid the worthless at times in his own life. He was pugilistic. He was a philanderer. He sent another man intentionally to his death. And yet, David confessed his sin. He repented and knew that there was great cost to be leveraged against him. Knowing all that, David could also point to when he was in concert with God. He could feel when he was living into the covenant with the Lord. He could see the beauty of the sunrise, knowing that the light of the morning was affirmation of his faithfulness to the living God.

Friends, as I sip fresh coffee on this Saturday morning, I pray that we may end up at the place that David did…seeing and speaking the truth. Knowing God’s work of empowerment and redemption in our lives. As such, let us live in awe and wonder of God, and order our lives accordingly.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What moves you about a sunrise or a sunset?

What would you want your last words to be? How would they reflect what is important to you?

Daily Challenge

Take a moment to welcome the light of this morning. Name some of the beautiful gifts of God around you. Sit in prayer for several minutes, giving thanks to God. Ask for guidance about what aspects of your house need God’s handiwork and your attention. Write down what comes up for you. Prioritize and make a plan. Ask for God’s help, and that of others.

Soft Hearted - August 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 140, 142; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12); 2 Samuel 19:24-43; Acts 24:24-25:12; Mark 12:35-44

Today’s Reflection

As he taught, he said, ‘Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.’

He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, ‘Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.’ –Mark 12: 38-44

            Oftentimes the passage we read today from Mark 12 gets used to explain tithing and stewardship. Something along the lines of “no gift is too small,” or that what matters is that we give sacrificially. The principle often focused on when discussing this passage is that all of what you have when you have a very little is considered more sacrificial in Jesus’ eyes than giving just a little when you have greater wealth.

            It’s not that the above principles aren’t the point, because on one level this is what Jesus hoped his listeners would take away from his parable. The crux of this teaching from Jesus, though, seems deeper than principles of relative amounts and percentages when it comes to tithing and stewardship. To me, this parable—and much of Jesus’ teaching and life—has to do with motivation, with purpose. Jesus is interested in the state of one’s heart. Is your heart in the right place? Are you going through life with a basic orientation of being hard hearted or soft hearted?

            Why is Jesus warning us about the scribes? He’s warning us about the scribes because they’re going through life concerned with keeping up appearances and gaining positions of influence. The scribes are all about looking out for themselves at the expense of others. They are hypocrites who in one moment are “devour[ing] widows’ houses” and the next moment “for the sake of appearance” are “say[ing] long prayers.” Jesus is warning against hypocrisy, looking out for the needs of oneself over the needs of others, being more concerned with keeping up appearances than doing the genuinely hard work of being transformed through a life of sacrifice and prayer. Jesus is warning against a life of hard-heartedness, of being able to walk through life unaffected by the pains and sorrows faced by others.

            Jesus is calling his followers, his children, to be better than that. In a world that for centuries has privileged the people who look out for themselves and emphasizes keeping up appearances, Jesus turned all that upside down. Jesus lifted up the lowly. Jesus saw beauty in the widow’s decision to give out of her scarcity, beauty in her willingness to give everything. This widow, who had next to nothing, looked around and saw a world in need—she looked around and maybe noticed some people who needed two copper coins more than she did. The widow was walking through the world with a soft heart—a heart that couldn’t help but notice and be affected by the pains and sorrows of others. Instead of saying I don’t have anything, I can’t do anything, the widow essentially was saying, through her gift, “I can’t do much, but at least I can do this.”

            In yesterday’s Gospel reading, Jesus quoted the Shema, which captures what is most important in life: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your mind, and with all your strength. And love your neighbor as yourself.” Love God—and live with others in a way that shows radical empathy. Go through life with a soft heart rather than a hard heart. Go through life with an ethic of mutual encouragement and respect for others’ experiences. Be vulnerable—share your soft spots, and be open to being touched by the soft, vulnerable spots of others. Be soft with others in the way that you go through life—but also be soft with yourself.

            Last night, I was reading a poem that a friend shared about this experience of going through life hard-hearted or soft-hearted. I’ll close the reflection for today with some lines from this poem by John Roedel (and if you’d like to read the whole thing, you can find a link in the Daily Challenge below):

don’t be so hard

that you break down so easily.

be soft

like wet clay

in the hands of a potter

be soft like

river water

in the summer

be soft like

the breeze through

a row of tall pines

all of those things

survive no matter what

happens to them

they endure because

they haven’t built their

existence out of hard

materials

be soft with other people

don’t break them

with your words

and don’t let them break you with theirs

be soft with yourself

your heart is more cotton

than iron

Questions for Self-Reflection

Looking back, when were some moments you experienced someone’s hard heartedness? When have you been hard hearted? And when were some moments you experienced someone’s soft-heartedness? And when have you been soft-hearted? What would it look like to be softer with others? What would it look like to be softer with yourself?

Daily Challenge

Read the rest of John Roedel’s poem through his public Facebook page, and other poems and reflections by him on his website.

Loving God with All our Heart, Mind, Soul, and Strength - August 19

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 131, 132, [133]; PM Psalm 134, 135; 2 Samuel 19:1-23; Acts 24:1-23; Mark 12:28-34

One of my absolute favorite classes in seminary was Hebrew language.  We spent a semester learning the alphabet and the basics of the language and our first translation piece with the Shema, a prayer that is the cornerstone of Jewish daily prayers.  By those who are especially observant of the Jewish faith, the Shema is recited twice a day, every day.  The prayer can be found beginning Deuteronomy 6:4 and in Numbers and begins with “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” Each day observant Jews remember that there is only one God.  And then the prayer continues with the command to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength.  It is the prayer that Jesus recalls in today’s Gospel when asked what the most important commandant is.

As good Episcopalians, most people get drawn to the next statement about loving our neighbors as ourselves.  At the end of the day, I can’t disagree that if we fail to do this, we probably have missed the whole point of Holy Scriptures.  Regardless of what anyone believes, when we love our neighbors (another word for all other human beings), we are living the way that God invites us to live. 

But I am left wondering this morning, why is it that we so often skip the first part of the Shema when we discuss the thrust of Christianity? It’s all about love, but it starts with love of God.  For the Jewish people, reciting the prayer twice a day ensures that they live into that ethic. 

What would our lives look like if every morning and evening, we too remembered that there is one God and our earthly lives are about loving God and each other?  Would we live differently, love differently, and look at the world differently?  Christianity often seems like it focuses more on belief than practice.  However, spiritual practices can shape what we believe.  Waking up each morning to remember that we love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength.  And then ending the day with the same reminder.  Seems more important than getting all the belief stuff right. 

We send these emails every morning.  If it’s the morning where you are, please join me in praying the Shema from Deuteronomy, “Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” The author of Deuteronomy continues, “Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”  Not a bad way of living at all!

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: How do you begin and end your day?  Are there certain things that you do that help you connect with God?

Daily Challenge: Spend two minutes listening to the Shema in Hebrew here.

Big feelings - August 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:145-176; PM Psalm 128, 129, 130; 2 Samuel 18:19-33; Acts 23:23-35; Mark 12:13-27

There is a children’s book called The Boy with the Big, Big Feelings about a kid who feels lots of emotions – from joy to anger to sadness. The boy feels lonely sometimes, as other kids do not always know about his sensitivities. The other kids are playing and laughing, wrapped up in their own activities. The boy’s big feelings of fear well up in his chest, of joy shine on his cheeks, and of sadness pour out of his eyes in tears. He comes to realized that all kids (and people, for that matter) have big feelings…we feel them at different times and show them in various ways. It is a sweet, tender book for any kid, and it is one that we have enjoyed sharing in our house.

This book comes up for me today as I think of what is going on in our world at this moment. Natural disasters in Haiti. Unrest in Afghanistan. COVID positive cases rising due to the delta variant. Vitriol between divergent opinions around wearing masks in schools. And yet, I feel the great love and appreciation in my own family and social bubble in the wake of a birthday. To take in the whole spectrum of events and occurrences is a lot, leaving me feeling fractured and jumbled like a disassembled puzzle.

I look to the psalms appointed for this afternoon, which reflect a similar array of perspectives. Psalm 128 begins, “Happy are they all who fear the Lord, and who follow in his ways! You shall eat the fruit of your labor; happiness and prosperity shall be yours.” These first two verses are declarations of someone proclaiming wisdom from the posture of experience, seated far away from the intricacies and messiness of daily living. The psalm ends with words that sound like a good tiding offered to someone at a birthday party, “May you live to see your children’s children…” This psalm has words of hopefulness and assurance.

Psalm 129 is delivered in a space of anger and hardship, yet still offered from a distance. ‘“Greatly have they oppressed me since my youth,” let Israel now say’. Though hard times are upon God’s people, “The Lord, the Righteous One, has cut the cords of the wicked.” Those who are enemies will be shamed, and further, they will dry up and amount to nothing, “Let them be like grass upon the housetops, which withers before it can be plucked; which does not fill the hand of the reaper, nor the bosom of him who binds the sheaves”. By the end of this psalm, the tidings issued are far from those of the previous psalm; people will not even wish the enemy well in the Name of the Lord.

And then, Psalm 130. “Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice”. We come to a prayer that is far from aloof. It is intimate and visceral. The words are first person, singular: I wait for the Lord. We have a personal account of what it is like to wait for God in a time of despair, hoping for the Lord’s mercy to be demonstrated. While the supplicant (person praying) is pleading for God’s presence and assurance, there is hope. The hope is upon God’s word. God’s story of faithfulness with Israel. It is not a path of ease, and yet, it is a path of redemption, of reconnection, of restoration, and of the joy that comes in the morning. I love that verse, “My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.” I know that waiting. I know that anticipation. Knowing that it is dark right now. Knowing that it is scary and uncertain. Knowing that it feels that time has stopped and nothing will ever be right again in the world. And yet, those on night watch know that their shift has an end…with the dawn. The light will break over the horizon. The waiting is not forever. We may wage words. It is God who brings the light. It is God who brings the redemption.

Let us join in prayer. Let us call to the Lord when we are in the depths. And may God move us to act in the darkness, until the Son rises again.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What words of pleasant wishes do you share with people for a birthday or other life event?

What are the words you have uttered (directly or indirectly) toward someone in anger or bitterness? 

What are the words of encouragement you need to hear today?

Daily Challenge

Call someone who you have not spoken with in several months. Take time to hear from them the good and hard things going on. Invite them to share spaces of tension. Ask how you can pray for them.

Brick-and-Mortar Faith - August 17

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [120], 121, 122, 123; PM Psalm 124, 125, 126, [127]
2 Samuel 18:9-18; Acts 23:12-24; Mark 11:27-12:12

Today’s Reflection

This past week, I started reading another memoir (see my reflection from last Friday for more on memoirs and the power of our stories). Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir is written by Stanley Hauerwas, who worked for many years as a theological ethicist at Duke Divinity School. He begins his memoir by telling of his working-class Texas roots, including vivid stories of his father Coffee Hauerwas, a bricklayer. When Stanley was about 7 or 8 years old, his dad started taking him out “on the job” over his summer breaks from school. Stanley started out as the one who caught the bricks that are thrown from ground level to someone up on the scaffolding, who then arranges the bricks in such a way that they will be easier for the bricklayers and their helpers to pick up to work with in building structures.

Over the years of working with his father and his entire bricklaying crew, Stanley worked his way up from brick catcher to brick thrower, and then to one of the helpers who “cut” the mortar and “made the mud. Eventually, he became one of those entrusted with carefully placing the bricks onto the mortar and amongst the other bricks to build a well-crafted, stable brick wall. But before Stanley was allowed to graduate to this final level in the work of bricklaying, his dad made him practice laying bricks in their backyard: “God knows how many four-foot-high walls I built, tore down, only to build again. That is the way you learned to lay brick.”

Reading this part of Hauerwas’ memoir has expanded my appreciation for the great craftsmanship that goes into building structures with brick and stone. Hauerwas himself makes connections between the skills and work ethic he learned on the job with his father and his crew and the work he has gone on to do as a theologian. He sees a parallel between the importance of intimately knowing the materials with which one is working, whether in masonry or in theology: “Like stonecutters and bricklayers, theologians must come to terms with the material upon which they work. In particular, they must learn to respect the simple complexity of the language of faith, so that they might reflect the radical character of orthodoxy.” The materials with which theologians—and all of us who want to know God better—work are the scriptures, our own experiences of faith, being in community with people of faith, and how all of this helps us to understand more deeply the God who made us and loves us.

In today’s Gospel account from Mark 11 and 12, we find people yet again questioning Jesus: “By what authority are you doing these things? Who gave you this authority to do them?” After reading through the Gospels together over this past year and a half, we are not surprised to hear that Jesus does not give them a direct answer. Instead, Jesus told them he would not give them an explanation and then pivots into another parable to make his point. This parable is a very violent parable in which a vineyard is left in the care of tenants, but when the landowner sends servants to collect the rent, each servant sent is killed. Finally, the landowner sends his own son, and the tenants kill him, too. Jesus asks, “What then will the owner of vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. Have you not read this scripture:

            ‘The stone that the builders rejected
             has become the cornerstone;
             this was the Lord’s doing,
             and it is amazing in our eyes’?”

Here, Jesus is referring his listeners back to one of the Psalms (118, verse 22. At every turn, Jesus is questioned and rejected—all the way to the point of crucifixion. But this rejection, and ultimate sacrifice of his human life on the cross, ended up being the means by which Jesus became the cornerstone of our faith. Jesus poured out his life for us so that we, in turn, would have life.

In our community of faith (and in our world overall), our lives are interconnected—like the bricks so carefully selected and arranged by bricklayers like Coffee Hauerwas and his son, Stanley. The mortar that holds us together is, I believe, the Holy Spirit, encouraging us in our love and sacrifice for one another. But at the very foundation there must be the cornerstone (or keystone), carefully placed to give stability and strength to entire structure. Though rejected by the builders (the leaders of the church and society in his own time), in the end Jesus became the cornerstone on which the entire church over the centuries has been built. Our faith community, Saint Stephen’s, is built on this cornerstone—and each time we do something to stay interconnected with one another and the world in which we live, we continue this work of holy bricklaying. Brick by brick we continue the work of building up the church and the kingdom of God in our own place and time.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What are the materials of your faith? How do you see your life as interconnected with others in a way that builds up the church?

Daily Challenge

Deepen your understanding of the craft of building a brick wall by watching this video about how to build a brick corner.

God's Immediacy - August 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; 2 Samuel 17:24-18:8; Acts 22:30-23:11; Mark 11:12-26

I have a confession to make.  I love gardening, and yet I do not have a garden.  I mean, I have thought about it a lot over the last three years.  I used to have a garden and a compost pile, and some plants that would do better some years than others, but I have yet to add that to my life in Alabama. 

You might be thinking, that doesn’t make sense.  “We do all these groovy creation care things around Saint Stephen’s.  John should at least have a basil plant or grow some tomatoes.”  I probably should, and I feel a little guilty for not having a garden.  My parents have always grown things.  My father’s parents had a large enough garden to can vegetables for the winter months and they were largely dependent on what they could provide for themselves.  My mom’s brother had a tractor that I would sometimes act like I was driving as a kid.  A rural Vermonter, Harold and his wife, Beth, also produced much of their own source of food from their own land. 

Maybe it is just the times.  We have better and more secure access to food at this time in our history.  But I also wonder if there is some correlation between my need for immediate results that play into this phenomenon.  We live in an age where can find the answer to nearly any question from a tool that most of us keep with us 24/7.   We can buy oranges when they are out of season.  Amazon will deliver just about anything in two days or less.  We aren’t accustomed to the long game any more.

Most of us would call this progress. I like my life and the relative ease to which most things come by. I can get a fig any time of the year.  And as much as I think I should garden, I wonder if I am being subconsciously resistant because of the amount of timing and planning that takes place, and what I could spend four months planning for, I could find at the store down the street right now.

Maybe that’s why I’m sympathetic to this bizarre interaction in Mark’s Gospel when Jesus sees a fig tree, Mark acknowledges that figs are not in season, for which Jesus doesn’t seem to care about. Since the tree has nothing but leaves, Jesus curses the tree saying, “May no one ever eat fruit from you again.”  And sure enough, the next day the tree is dead, and the disciples are amazed. Advice from this lesson:  Don’t get between a hungry Son of God and his food.  Just kidding. 

As I read the news this morning, my heart breaks for the people of Haiti and Afghanistan.  I wish more than anything those places could instantly be made whole. I wish the immediacy of God’s agency in this story was a lived reality of the people who suffer most in this world.  And yet Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, ‘Be taken up and thrown into the sea’, and if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you.  So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”   

For me, today’s Gospel provides a helpful reminder.  Life has seasons and takes time.  No one doubts that a fig tree should only produce figs at certain times of the year.  But that shouldn’t stop us from praying for God’s action now.   Problems will still exist in Afghanistan and Haiti tomorrow.  The Delta variant will still be affecting our daily lives, but we are reminded it is necessary to pour our hearts into prayer regardless because God does indeed listen.   Where that leads us, is to a people more committed to prayer, and maybe that is what the world really needs. 

So today I pray, with the fervency that God could change things this moment, knowing that the result is not what matters, but instead what the heart wills.  And trusting that is good enough.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where do you fall on the spectrum of immediacy?  Are you a planner?  What happens when you have to wait for something? 

Daily Challenge:  Make a plan to grow something today.  Here are some ideas for a little garden.

Listening and learning - August 14

Today’s Readings: Psalm 85:7-13; Amos 5:18-24; Luke 1:46-55

I will listen to what the Lord God is saying,
for he is speaking peace to his faithful people
and to those who turn their hearts to him.

Truly, his salvation is very near to those who fear him,
that his glory may dwell in our land.  (Psalm 85:8-9)

As I re-read a brief biography of Jonathan Daniels this morning, I was moved by how intentionally Jon listened. He listened for where God was calling him to serve in the world, as he wondered about his vocation. Jon felt drawn to ministry and the priesthood, but it was not a direct path for him. There were times when his faith was faltering. After graduating from Virginia Military Institute, he attended Harvard University to pursue a degree in English literature. Before completing studies there, he felt drawn back to theological studies. Jon enrolled at Episcopal Theological Seminary (ETS) in 1963. He listened to the call from Dr. Martin Luther King in March 1965, in which King put out an open invitation to students from far and wide to come to Selma, Alabama, to march and demonstrate for civil rights.

Jonathan Daniels was a perpetual student. He was ever in the process of learning. And because of this, Jon was curious and open. He was willing to hear the call of the Almighty God, “speaking peace to his faithful people and to those who turn their hearts to him”, as we read in the portion of Psalm 85 appointed for this feast day. In praying the Magnificat during Evening Prayer in the spring of 1965, Jon was moved by the words of the Virgin Mary’s song and felt called to be present in Selma, Alabama. While Jonathan Daniels was in Selma, he saw the beauty and possibility of ways he could grow and learn more…not just to “save” the people of the Black Belt through faith and social justice. He, too, was being changed by his time there.

Decades later, as I reflect on the ministry and sacrifice of Jon and the many other martyrs for civil rights in Alabama, I think about something my husband holds up often. Education and critical thinking skills are imperative for the continued growth and well-being of our individual selves and for our communities. Just as prayer can open our souls to soar in God’s love, the gift of learning can open our minds to explore vistas far beyond our imagination. Jesus, ever the teacher, helped throngs of people during his travels, opening up their minds to scripture. As we live into a posture of faithful living, let us also embrace the gift of learning, for ourselves and for those around us. And, as we are able, let us support education efforts, as we empower young people to learn and grow!

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What was your favorite subject to study in school? What more can you learn in this field today?

When did you last intentionally seek out a topic to learn more?

Daily Challenge

The livestream of the virtual celebration of Jonathan Daniels and the martyrs of Alabama can be found here on YouTube. It begins at 11:00 a.m. CT on August 14.

To give to the offering designated for the Lowndes County Board of Education Scholarship Fund, click here and select “Jonathan Daniels Pilgrimage Offering” from the drop-down. 

Read more about the life of Jonathan Daniels here: http://satucket.com/lectionary/Jonathan_Daniels.htm

What's Your Story - August 13

Stories are powerful. Over the years, I’ve noticed in my reading how I’ve shifted from reading fictional stories more into the real-life stories of people’s lives. When I think back to the books I’ve invested the most time in reading the past few years, they have been memoirs. Michelle Obama’s memoir Becoming tells her story of growing up in Chicago and how her life unfolded since then as an attorney, community leader, and First Lady. Kate Bowler’s memoir Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved shares her story of cancer diagnosis and treatment as a 35-year-old mother, wife, and university professor. Shaking the Gates of Hell by John Archibald tells his story of growing up the son and grandson of Methodist ministers here in Alabama (excited he’ll be sharing some of these stories with us when he visits Saint Stephen’s on September 12).

This past Christmas, I received the first volume of President Barack Obama’s memoir, A Promised Land. It’s 700 pages, so between work and family responsibilities, I only just finished reading it a few weeks ago! As someone who studied presidential and organizational communication as part of my graduate program, I enjoyed getting a detailed, inside look at his campaign and then his first term in office, especially all the stories of how he worked with his team to develop strategies for leading and communicating with the people of our nation and the world.

When I was in Chicago last week for vacation with my daughters, our main destinations were educational in nature (even on vacation I always like us to keep learning!). A week ago today we spent part of the afternoon at the Field Museum of Natural History, and the exhibit I enjoyed the most was called Becoming Jane: The Evolution of Jane Goodall. Organized by the National Geographic Museum and currently touring amongst museums around the country, the focus of the exhibit is giving visitors an inside look at the life story of the famous primatologist and wildlife conservationist.

The exhibit begins by sharing photographs and accounts of her childhood and adolescence in a small English village. We see her favorite stuffed animal (a monkey). We learn stories about how even as an 18-month-old she was drawn to sitting in the mud observing earthworms, and about the birch tree she loved to climb up so much that her grandmother gave it to her as a birthday gift one year when they couldn’t afford to give her another gift. I was especially moved by the story of as a small child, Jane disappeared one afternoon. No one could find her, but eventually as it was getting dark she came walking back home from across the field. Where had she been? “Well, I’ve been in a henhouse, waiting ti watch a hen lay an egg. Nobody would tell me how a chicken laid its eggs, so I just sat down and waited. And now I know.” These childhood stories are great foreshadowing of exactly how she came to learn so much about chimpanzees in the field in Tanzania. We understand Jane Goodall so much better as a scientist and conservationist by learning these stories of her childhood, her young adulthood as a research assistant and graduate student, her life in the field as a young scientist and later how she balanced that as a spouse and mother. All that she accomplished and contributed to conservation, and our own understanding of the world, are now even more meaningful to me having learned these stories of how she came to be the person she is today.

In yesterday’s Acts reading, we encountered Paul as he was being seized and dragged from the Temple, and then was arrested and taken to the barracks by the soldiers as the crowd kept shouting “Away with him!” In today’s passage from Acts 21 and 22, Paul has the opportunity to share his story with the crowd.

Just as Paul was about to be brought into the barracks, he said to the tribune, ‘May I say something to you?’ … ‘I am a Jew, from Tarsus in Cilicia, a citizen of an important city; I beg you, let me speak to the people.’ When he had given him permission, Paul stood on the steps and motioned to the people for silence; and when there was a great hush, he addressed them in the Hebrew language, saying:

‘Brothers and fathers, listen to the defence that I now make before you.’ When they heard him addressing them in Hebrew, they became even more quiet. Then he said: ‘I am a Jew, born in Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly according to our ancestral law, being zealous for God, just as all of you are today. I persecuted this Way up to the point of death by binding both men and women and putting them in prison, as the high priest and the whole council of elders can testify about me.

Having shared the way of life he was raised in, which gave him common ground with his audience, Paul goes on to tell of his conversion experience on the road to Damascus. It’s a powerful story, one which not only changed Paul’s life and purpose forever, but one which gave him a message of hope to share as he traveled around the Mediterranean region, encouraging believers and winning new converts in the churches that were beginning to form in Philippi and Ephesus, Galatia and Corinth, Rome and Thessaloniki.

In more evangelical strands of Christianity, one tends to hear more emphasis on the power of knowing and being able to share with others your “testimony,” which is a the story or stories of how one has seen God at work in their life—especially stories of salvation and conversion. We in the Episcopal tradition can learn something valuable from their practice of being able to articulate and share our own “testimonies” with others—just as we hear from Paul in this passage from Acts. Each of our stories are compelling and powerful. What is your story? Where do you see God at work in it?

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What is your story? When you look back at stories of how you became the person you are today, how you see God at work in your life? How does storytelling help us to form bonds of friendship and community with others?

Daily Challenge

Make some time to write down an important story from your life, whether in a journal or in a letter to a family member or friend you want to know and remember this story. Or make a point to share a story from your life with someone in a conversation this weekend. How can sharing a story from your life change the tone and direction of your conversation?

Disrupting the Status Quo - August 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45; 2 Samuel 15:1-18; Acts 21:27-36; Mark 10:32-45

I was reminded of one of my favorite jokes about church this morning.

A man attending an Episcopal for the first time is moved by
something the priest says and shouts "AMEN!".

The people around him all turn and stare. A while later again he is again moved by something the priest says, and again he shouts "AMEN!".

This time an usher comes down the aisle, gets the man's eye and waves his finger and nods his head "no...no".

A third time the man is so moved that he shouts "AMEN!"

This time the usher comes down the aisle, bends over and whispers to the man, "Sir, we don't do that here".

The man says "But I've got religion!"

The usher says "Well, you DIDN'T get it HERE!"

I can imagine this happening in lots of formal churches, especially Episcopal churches.  Oddly, one of the most significant sources of stress and conflict in church communities happens when people who don’t “fit in” begin showing up.  It happened at an old church of mine when members of the feeding program began showing up at church.  It happened in churches across the country in the 50s and 60s during desegregation.  And I’ve seen it play out similarly in the last fifteen years when churches have shared their worship space with people of different faiths and traditions.   

It should also be noted, that probably most of us know this is true and want to be as inclusive and welcoming as possible. But I had to chuckle when in the story of Acts, the Israelites seize Paul and drag him out of church (the temple) because he let those horrible Greek people into their sacred space. The Israelites saw the church as defiled because those who were different were in their space. This is so different from our ethic of radical inclusivity and yet if Scripture is to challenge our assumptions today, then I have to wonder who I am in the story and how this story is still played out in our common life and community.

New people, new ideas, and new cultures have always disrupted the status quo.  And they usually cause conflict.  I wonder if part of that is playing a role in worshiping differently or remotely, or the loss of things that were important to us without recognizing what gifts these new ideas (or people) bring. 

One observation would be that resistance to change is normal and expected.  The best thing we can do is be prepared to acknowledge that resistance and then resist normal behavior by trying to open.  Or maybe we should be more intentional about what we want to preserve while allowing the Spirit to guide us in what is necessary for growth or change.  It is a delicate balance, for sure.  Hopefully, it will end better than it did for Paul when he was thrown out of the temple.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Have you ever worshiped with people that made you feel uncomfortable?  Why?  Were you an outsider or insider in that experience?  Has your own perception of that experience changed over time?

Daily Challenge:  Invite a person who is different from you in some way to have coffee or lunch.  Make the appointment and mark it on your calendar! 

Come, follow me – August 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144
2 Samuel 14:21-33; Acts 21:15-26; Mark 10:17-31

“And here we offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee; humbly beseeching thee that we, and all others who shall be partakers of this Holy Communion, may worthily receive the most precious Body and Blood of thy Son Jesus Christ, be filled with thy grace and heavenly benediction, and made one body with him, that he may dwell in us, and we in him.” (Book of Common Prayer, page 336)

These words from the Eucharistic Prayer, Rite I, were rolling through my head this morning. This portion of the Eucharistic Prayer is called the prayer of oblation. Engrained in my memory from childhood, the poetic nature of the prayer’s phrasing captures me. Even now, I find myself pouring over the words again: “We offer and present unto thee, O Lord, our selves, our souls and bodies”. Our selves, our souls and bodies. I am struck by how the words flow so smoothly in spoken word, and then I feel a bit stuck pondering how hard this is to do, to present our whole selves before God.

What does offering my life to God mean? Honestly, I get overwhelmed in imagining the totality of this question. I have to slow down, reel myself back in, and be present in the moment. Offering my life to God means first being centered upon God’s law and God’s love through the gift of Jesus. Becky+ explored this in her reflection yesterday.

A host of other questions bubble up about presenting my whole life to God. What are the implications for this? And, does God really want what I have to offer? There is some stuff in there I am not too pleased with. If I give my life to God, what about others in my life – will I have to sacrifice those relationships to belong solely to God?

This reflection will not address each of these swirling, sweeping questions. What I will point our hearts and minds toward is the gospel reading from Mark 10. Jesus is about to head out on another trip and a guy runs up and kneels in front of Jesus. Breathless, the man asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus responds like this, “You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’ ” 

The man nods and says to Jesus, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” 

Then, this beautiful thing happens that can get lost in the scripture, as it is subtle. After Jesus cites the law and the man assents to following these laws, Jesus gazes at the man and loves him. I imagine Jesus smiling at him with tender care and feeling warmth in his chest as he beholds the gleam of this beloved child of God. Perhaps he even reaches out a hand and touches the man on the shoulder. Jesus then speaks lovingly and honestly, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” 

Jesus asks the man to offer his whole life – his self, his soul and body. When the man hears Jesus’ words and realizes how hard this would be, he is shocked and goes away grieving, for we are told he has many possessions.

While during Sunday worship we usually use Rite II language for Holy Eucharist, I commend to you the prayer of oblation from our Episcopal tradition. Meditate on those words to God, in which we corporately offer all of our selves, all of our souls, and all of our bodies as a sacrifice to the Lord. We do this – we make this gift to God – not to be disposed of or set aside, but rather to “be filled with [God’s] grace and heavenly benediction” and joined in unity with God – that God may dwell in us, and we in God.

Friends, this life in Christianity is a wild journey. I do not always understand it. I am grateful that Jesus lovingly looks upon us as we fret and speaks truth to us. And I pray that the Holy Spirit continues empowering us to offer ourselves to God each day.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What does offering your life to God mean? What are the obstacles? What are the helps that keep you on track?

What would wisdom and truth would Jesus tell you?

Daily Challenge

Set aside about 12 minutes to listen to Brother Mark Brown from the Society of St. John the Evangelist, preaching on the prayer of oblation from a speaker series in 2010.

Jesus Receives Us As We Are - August 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; PM Psalm 94, [95]; 2 Samuel 14:1-20; Acts 21:1-14; Mark 10:1-16

Today’s Reflection

The Bible is a complicated book, one manifestation of the creative Logos or the Word of God. The Bible is one of the ways in which God speaks truth to us, his children, across place and time—truths that we may find both challenging and comforting, depending on the verses and the lenses through which we are reading them.

Our Holy Scriptures are not for the faint of heart. The Word of God is not an easy read. For one thing, the Scriptures are hard to read because they are like a mirror—we see ourselves reflected in them, and we do not always feel comfortable with what we see when we look into them with an open heart.

Another thing that can make reading the scriptures challenging for us is that it can feel like we are reading mixed messages. Some parts of the Bible seem more focused on the law, what we should do and not do. Other parts of the Bible seem more focused on love, on how God shows his grace to us, his dearly loved children, again and again. Sometimes these threads of law and love can be found interwoven together in a such way that we cannot pull them apart. And perhaps this is as it should be, because we cannot know the God of love without also knowing the God of laws.

Speaking for myself, I experience God’s love, mercy, and grace perhaps most clearly when I am reminded by the law (which I can never perfectly fulfill) that I can never earn God’s love. The law allows me to see my imperfect self in its mirror and thereby find reassurance that God gives love to me freely, with no expectation that I must do something to earn it. This is the beauty of God’s grace (the Greek word for grace is charis, which also translates as gift).

We see both of these aspects of God—law and love—evidenced in today’s Gospel passage from Mark 10: 1-16. Jesus is confronted by the Pharisees, who yet again are trying “to test him.” They were hoping to trip Jesus up by putting him on the spot about a widespread practice in their culture: divorce. The Pharisees are hoping to get Jesus to say something against Moses and the scripture they were quoting that day (the Hebrew text about men being able to ask for a certificate of divorce). Jesus, himself the Word Made Flesh (another manifestation of the Logos), knew his Holy Scriptures better than they did, of course. Jesus responded to scripture with more scripture, citing the principles that governed marriage from before Moses, going all the back to Genesis and its commands to ‘leave and cleave.’ Based on these scriptural precedents, Jesus is very clear: “Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate,’” beautiful, sacred words that we include in our own Episcopal marriage liturgy still today.

Jesus, as quoted both in Mark 10 and in a parallel passage in Matthew 19, takes a hard line on divorce. It’s not God’s ideal for marriage. Moses only allowed for it, Jesus said, because of people’s “hardness of heart.” Jesus then takes his pronouncement on divorce a step further, mentioning the consequences for those who divorce and then remarry. These can be hard words to hear—and also puzzling in light of the mercy and grace Jesus shows again and again to imperfect people of all kinds.

This is one of the ethical and spiritual conundrums with which biblical scholars and people of faith continue to grapple with, thousands of years after Jesus uttered these words and Mark (and Matthew) wrote them down. It’s a question I have personally pondered over the years, and more so lately as both a priest and as someone who has divorced. How do I square this life decision with today’s Gospel passage? To be honest, I don’t know that I have the best, most intellectually solid answer to that question, and perhaps I never will. Thankfully, I don’t believe that God requires a rhetorically sound justification from me—God just wants to show me (and all of us) some grace.

Because of my personal curiosity about this passage, I did what I often do to find wisdom and clarity—I decided to learn what others have to say about it. As I searched the seminary database, I came across articles that took a less charitable take on the issue. But then I came across an article that spoke to me both as a person who has divorced as well as a priest who needs to be able to support others when they go through this life transition. In his article, “A Hermeneutic of Pastoral Care and the Law/Gospel Paradigm Applied to the Divorce Texts of Scripture,” Lutheran pastor Mark Molldrem writes about the importance of interpreting scripture with the purpose of discerning what is the most pastoral response to people going through challenging life situations.

As we in the church consider how we respond to people who experience divorce and all manner of complicated relationships and life situations, Molldrem’s observations seem both helpful and wise:

The central concern to focus on is not a legalistic reading of the texts but the pastoral concern that lies behind the texts. In addition to this, the law/gospel paradigm provides a theological key to gain deeper understanding as to how God rules over this controversial issue. The law, as the left hand of God’s rule, identifies divorce as sin, a sign of the brokenness not only between human beings but also between God and human beings. The law stands and wields death when it is disobeyed. The gospel, as the right hand of God’s rule, creates life through the forgiveness of the sinner. The gospel, as the first and last Word of God, speaks the word of comfort and blessing that overcomes the law and makes alive, so that the penitent can experience faith, hope, and love once again.

It's wise to consider not only “What did Jesus say?” here, but also “What did Jesus do?” and “What would Jesus have us to do?” On the one hand, Jesus took a clear stance on divorce in what he said to the Pharisees and then later in his continued conversation with the disciples. But, on the other hand, we also personally know and experience Jesus to be motivated always by mercy and grace in his interactions with all those who come to him seeking help and healing.

Finally, it’s important to note the verses at the end of today’s Gospel passage—verses that remind us that Jesus wants us to become as little children in the way that we trust in his unconditional love for us, and how we are to extend this to others. As Molldrem points out, “We must allow God to be God. The law stands over against us (“for your hardness of heart”), while at the same time Jesus receives us as we are, like children being swept up into his blessing arms (Mark 10:13-16).”

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What are some passages of scripture that you have found personally challenging?

Which complicated or contradictory parts of the Bible do you feel curiosity to learn more about as a way of deepening your faith?

Daily Challenge

Pick a passage of scripture (or of theological writing) that you have found confusing or challenging and commit to reading and reflecting on it in prayer throughout the rest of this week. Seek out what others have written about this text, or seek out someone with whom you can share a conversation with about this challenging text. Write your own reflection about what you learned about the text, about yourself, and about God through doing this.

Bound by our Shared Suffering - August 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; 2 Samuel 13:23-39; Acts 20:17-38; Mark 9:42-50

As I read Acts today, I am reminded of just how difficult life could be for those first Christians.  Paul has written the elders of the Church community in Ephesus reminding them of his time with them when he lived among them in humility and with “tears, enduring the trials that came to (Paul).”  Paul specifically reminds them that he didn’t shrink away from being helpful but instead relishes in how he continued to share the Holy Spirit.  When Paul is finished preaching, a few more tears are shed, they pray with him, and send him on his way as they realized that Paul has taught them how to serve and share.  They have learned one of the greatest lessons in life, that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” 

It’s that time of year when many people are embarking on something new.  College is beginning and with it, people are joining fraternities and sororities.  I did the same when I went to college, at a time when hazing was a regular practice of initiation.  I can still remember every Monday night, my freshman year, when my class would show up in our blue jeans and white t-shirts (the uniform of pledges) and would stand in the Great Hall of the Fraternity House where a bunch of others would yell at us and ask us questions.  We would try not to laugh or get angry, caught up in this bizarre cycle of storytelling and camaraderie.   

And then at the end of eight weeks or so, it was over. I think the idea was that we all had a shared experience of suffering that bound us together, although it was actually quite fun in many ways too.  Different pledges classes would all argue how their initiation was so much more difficult, but the focus was that we all shared something challenging and difficult.  I’m glad that much of this has gone away, as it is probably a much better idea to be bonded over ideals and values than shared sufferings, but for many years, this way was the way of the fraternity system, and probably still is in some places. 

As we enter almost a year and a half of pandemic living, of thinking about a virus and its impact on our daily life at almost every inflection point, I find it reassuring that Paul’s visit to the people in Ephesus is not about what Paul has endured, but what they have endured together.   In some ways what they have suffered together, is the focus of his visit.  He gives thanks for what they have learned and how it has taught them in how to serve and share and not to focus on what they can receive.  I wonder if the same opportunity is being presented to us?

It is far too easy to project blame and anger in our world today.  I’ve got some of that swirling around too.  But it is also reassuring to see how adversity can bind us together, and that seems like a more hopeful response.  It sure worked for Paul and the community in Ephesus.  I’m hoping it can bind us together too. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What is the most challenging part of the last year and a half?  Who are the others in your life that have shared that with you?  What lessons have you learned?

Daily Challenge:  Write (and mail) a thank you note to someone who has taught you something during the last year.  Bonus points if they have no idea they have given a gift to you.

Why say “no” when it feels so good to say “yes”? – August 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 87, 90; PM Psalm 136, 2 Samuel 12:15-31; Acts 20:1-16; Mark 9:30-41

Then Jesus took a little child and put it among the twelve disciples; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.’  (Mark 9:36-37)

A wise friend and pediatrician gave us parenting advice when our daughter was younger. He said, “Regardless of what else is going on or how tired you are, spend 30 minutes of uninterrupted time with your child each day, doing exactly what they want to do. It will be a point of connection and fulfillment for you both.” There are many days that I fail at this challenge. There are other days I forget about it all together. And then, there are the days when all things click, and Bryson’s words wander through my mind. Last night was one of those nights. Josephine wanted me to join her in watching an episode or two of the long-running animated sitcom The Simpsons, known for its satirical social commentaries about American life. It was late and I was tired, and I considered saying no and enforcing the time for bed. And then, I blurted out “yes”!

Josephine happily cuddled up in her favorite spot on the sofa and cued the show. To my amusement, one of the episodes featured a spiritual awakening of an unlikely character. Set around Christmastime, Krusty the Clown was seeking a reconciliation with his daughter Sophie. In an odd turn of events, he saw an image of Jesus Christ in Moe’s Tavern, the local watering hole, and decided to convert from Judaism to Christianity. As such, his crass comedy show experienced a change of tone: Krusty opted to feed the hungry rather than throw a cream pie in someone’s face. He highlighted a sober contemplation hour. He introduced the comedian lineup, including Larry the Fable Guy and Joe Piscopalian. The cartoon crowd was disappointed by the drastic shift. I was highly entertained by the puns and content…and even more pleased to watch with Josephine.

What a gift! All because I said yes to my daughter’s invitation to spend time together.

As I reflect on Mark 9, Jesus is dealing with heavy stuff. He knows what is ahead. And he sees what is around him right now: arguing, conflict, sickness, hunger. Jesus – always the teacher – takes a moment to instruct his friends about priorities. First, he sits down. He is making space to slow down. Then, he calls them to join him, inviting them to rest and get a different perspective, too. When sitting among them, Jesus does not reiterate his question about the topic of the disciples’ spat about favoritism. He speaks to them plainly to the heart of the matter, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Being first in line with Jesus is not easy…it often takes us to a posture of sacrifice and humility, rather than security and glory.

Then, Jesus brings a little child into their midst…one small enough to be held in a grown man’s arms, yet old enough to be placed among them. Holding the little person, he continues, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,” holding space for this child – whether wiggly, disinterested, or curious. Jesus is grounding his friends in what is important, showing hospitality and respect for the humanity of a child, just as they would for their teacher. In doing so, they are welcoming Jesus and God the Father, who sent him. It is a lesson in the interconnectedness of love and hospitality.

If you have the good fortune to be around young people in the next day or two, welcome them into your midst. Receive their ideas. Let them move and surprise you. And know that in doing so, Jesus is present, too.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Where in this story of Jesus’ interaction with the disciples do you see yourself? Where would you rather be in this story?

What is meaningful to you about the concept of welcome?

Daily Challenge

Take a moment today to sit. Invite someone to sit with you. Share stories of how being welcomed has revealed Jesus to you.

Shadow side - August 6

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92, 2 Samuel 12:1-14; Acts 19:21-41; Mark 9:14-29

We can patiently accept not being good. What we cannot bear is not being considered good, not appearing good. —  St. Francis of Assisi

Carl Jung was a Swiss psychoanalyst and psychiatrist who researched aspects of the human psyche in the first half of the 20th century. If you took a psychology course in college, it is likely that you were exposed to the work of Jung. He separated the parts of our personality into ‘that which we are conscious of’ and elements ‘that which we are unconscious of’. Our conscious mind holds the parts of our personality and identity that we are aware of. According to Jung, people express ‘personas’ that comes from a desire to please or be accepted by others. (If you have “put on” a social mask in specific situations, with friends, family or at work, then you will be able to relate to this.)

Jung pointed out an issue with personas, in that they can lead to aspects of one’s personality being unexplored, underdeveloped, and suppressed. Through a desire to live up to others’ expectations, we can focus on our qualities that we perceive to be acceptable by others, thereby hiding the parts of ourselves which we believe to be negative. Jung referred to this suppressed side of the personality as the ‘shadow self’ – the parts of ourselves that we think society will disapprove of, which are pushed away into our unconscious.

For Jung, the goal is a reconciliation of self – an accounting within oneself of the whole breadth of personas, hats, masks, roles. Integration is a term that comes to mind for me, accepting all aspects of one’s personhood, even when we wince in the mirror a little bit.

In chapters 11 and 12 of 2 Samuel, the shadow side of King David is revealed. It was painful to read the story of David and Bathsheba and Uriah the Hittite yesterday during Morning Prayer. I winced as I retold that story of David’s deceitfulness. And today, we read of Nathan, the prophet and advisor, confronting the king with the truth. Nathan holds up a mirror to David through telling him a parable. Beautiful, beloved David feels moved to anger by the injustice levied upon the underdog in the story…and then is crushed to realize that his own actions align more closely with that of the bad guy – the rich man – the one so stingy that he stole the only prized possession from the poor man, rather than draw from his own holdings.

Nathan spells out to David how he is like the rich man. He has so much, because of the Lord’s anointing and appointing him as king over Israel. He leveraged his power and seduced a married woman – Bathsheba – while her husband was away in battle. He then struck down her husband, Uriah the Hittite, and took Bathsheba to be his own wife, creating destruction in the way that the evil Ammonites wreak havoc.

After hearing Nathan’s retelling of the tale, David says, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’ Nathan responds, ‘Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die. Nevertheless, because by this deed you have utterly scorned the Lord, the child that is born to you shall die.’ 

This is hard stuff. And sad. When we see the shadow side of ourselves, it is painful. And so, David’s lesson to us today is this – repent of wrongdoing as soon as you realize it is wrong. Make amends as you can. Pray to God for healing, and learn from the consequences. And, keep a trusted and honest friend nearby who will tell you what you need to hear, not just what you want to hear.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What is it like to tell someone a hard truth? How do you receive a hard truth imparted to you?

What is something you have resisted acknowledging, even when someone pointed it out to you?

Daily Challenge

Take time to study more about getting in touch with your shadow self, whether that be through reading, journaling, or prayer. Remember that David had Nathan as a guide through this process, and talk with a friend about “shadows”, too.