God Connects the Dots - November 9

They forgot what he had done,
and the wonders he had shown them.
He worked marvels in the sight of their forefathers,
in the land of Egypt, in the field of Zoan.
He split open the sea and let them pass through;
he made the waters stand up like walls.
He led them with a cloud by day,
and all the night through with a glow of fire.
He split the hard rocks in the wilderness
and gave them drink as from the great deep.
He brought streams out of the cliff,
and the waters gushed out like rivers.  –Psalm 78: 11-16

I was reminiscing with a friend yesterday about many of the different places where we had lived over the years, stops along the way where God had called each of us to be for a time and how God had provided for us in those places. We noticed how we had been, as it turns out, at some of the same places along the way, but at different points in time, and how we have known some of the same people along the way, though many years (and even decades) apart. When we remember to look back at our lives (so far) from the vantage point of time and the perspective of people who believe in God’s shepherding, guiding presence in our lives, it can be easier to see how God has worked (as is working) in us and through us—if only we are willing to keep walking, tentative step by tentative step, down the path God has appointed for us. We may not know where God is leading us at that time, but we can always find assurance that God is right there with us at every step along the way.

But as we hear the psalmist writing in Psalm 78 today, through the generations God’s faithful people often have lost sight of how God has faithfully led them, provided for them, and protected them over the years: “They did not keep the covenant of God, and refused to walk in his law; They forgot what he had done, and the wonders he had shown them” (v. 10-11). It’s a familiar pattern: we stray off course or encounter unexpected obstacles, we forget how God has guided and provided for us, and then we grow anxious and think we have to hustle and scheme and make everything happen for ourselves.

God, as our loving heavenly Father, knows how we humans work, though. And so, again and again, he gently calls out to us and reminds us that he is there—and has been there at every stop along the way. Sometimes God gives us little nudges and stirrings of the Spirit, be they signs of his beauty and faithfulness in nature (like seeing a rainbow or bird flying overhead at just the right time) or those God-incidences in which it seems like only God could scatter and then connect those dots in just the right way at just the right time.

Even though we are flawed and human, God keeps calling us to return—as we pray in Eucharistic Prayer C, “again and again, you called us to return.” As we hear the psalmist reflect, though we keep straying and keep forgetting that God is God and we are not, God remains ever-loving and ever-kind. He knows that we are ever in need of his tenderness and mercy, and he will provide all that we need, beyond what we in our human finitude can even ask or imagine.

For they had no faith in God,
nor did they put their trust in his saving power.
So he commanded the clouds above
and opened the doors of heaven.
He rained down manna upon them to eat
and gave them grain from heaven.
So mortals ate the bread of angels;
he provided for them food enough.  (Psalm 78: 22-25)

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

“When I pray, coincidences happen.

When I don't, they don't.”

—Archbishop William Temple

Ponder these words in light of today's Psalm and reflection. How does being connected through God in prayer allow us to be attuned to the ways God is guiding us and providing for us, and to those moments that seem like God-made coincidences.

Daily Challenge

Make a timeline or journal about the long and winding road of your life so far. At what points along the way, looking back now, do you see God's guiding hand and provision more clearly now?

The Ineffable God - November 8

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; Neh. 9:1-15(16-25); Rev. 18:1-8; Matt. 15:1-20

Yesterday was the conclusion of our Inquirer’s Class at Saint Stephen’s, six weeks of Episcopal theology, and a class that is often a tool for preparation for Confirmation or when people make a mature affirmation of faith. In this case, preparation for the Confirmation process led four people (two teenagers and two adults) to be Baptized yesterday as a requirement for Confirmation.  Yesterday, we witnessed four people choosing the way of love that we have come to know through Christ and it was especially moving for me. 

One of the ways I like to teach the class is to present paradoxes that are unresolvable as ways of understanding our tradition.  For example:  Is God timeless, simple, unchangeable (the classical understanding of God) or can God change as evidenced by suffering on the cross?  While this might not seem like a big deal, this is the kind of dilemma that leads to wars and churches fracturing.  These are contradictory understandings of God and only one could be true. And yet, when this question was posed in a room of ten people, there were at least eleven opinions!  And this is where I get excited, usually jumping up and down, to point out the nature of the Episcopal Church isn’t resolving these challenging questions but being bound together by common prayer. 

Robin Williams famously said in his top ten list about the Episcopal Church that” no matter what you believe, there is bound to be at least one Episcopalian who agrees with you.”  People seem drawn to a tradition that can be intellectually honest. 

Yesterday we concluded our class, where I answer questions and tell jokes (about the Church to prompt more questions).  After some challenging questions on the nature of evil, we concluded with a simple statement that would be problematic in most traditions.  I told the group that at the end of the day, I’m not concerned in the least with what they believe as long as their faith leads them to love God and their neighbor more deeply.  I believe that is all that really matters. 

Jesus is being questioned by the Pharisees and scribes, people who are pretty good at making theological arguments.  They know the commandments and the laws, and they are good at reminding people when they miss the mark and so they lure Jesus into a conversation about the teachings, noticing that Jesus has not been following the handwashing tradition (he obviously hasn’t lived through a global pandemic). 

Jesus’s response is essentially that it doesn’t matter what you do if your heart isn’t changed. Your heart is what really matters.  The Pharisees had all of the right theological answers, but they didn’t actually care about people in the way that Jesus called us to love.  

We heard a word in the All Saint’s collect that I only hear on that day but probably should use more often – ineffable.   It means “too great or extreme to be expressed in words.”  While the collect referred to the ‘ineffable joys’ I wonder if that might be a better description of God’s own self.  God is too great to simply be described by words!    

The Good News is that it doesn’t matter.  We are not required to give an account of our understanding, to get it right as so many people are worried about.  All we have to do is love.   And we learn about that love from each other, and then we all get it chance to practice it.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What theological questions do you have?  Are there certain things that you believe must be true?  Why are these important to you?  Have you changed your opinions over time?

Daily Challenge:  Here are the Contemporary Collects for the Church Year.  See if you can find All Saints.   

God Gives Us What We Need - November 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73; Ezra 7:27-28, 8:21-36; Rev. 15:1-8; Matt. 14:13-21

Today’s Reflection

Back at the end of July, we had planned another of our summer Wednesday nights of food truck, live music, and Vacation Bible School. When I arrived at the church to help get things ready and be there to greet people as they arrived, immediately I noticed something very important was missing. No food truck was in sight. I started asking others on staff what was going on, and began hearing the updates on the mystery of the missing food truck. Minutes continued to pass, and more and more people were beginning to arrive, expecting to quickly grab their dinner and sit down to enjoy some music and conversation out with us in the parking lot. It was hot outside, and after all the heavy rain earlier that afternoon, it was very, very humid.

As more and more people began to arrive and were milling around that humid late afternoon, waiting for the food truck to finally arrive, it felt kind of like the story we hear today in Matthew 14: “When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’ Jesus said to them, ‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’” On Wednesday night, we had no backup food prepared, we had no chilled bottles of water waiting in the wings for such a time as this. What could we do to offer hospitality to this very patient, yet still hot and hungry crowd? —including lots of little ones who needed to fill their tummies so they could have a good time at VBS.

Let’s look again at today’s Gospel account and how this exchange continued to unfold between Jesus and his doubting disciples: “They replied, ‘We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.’ And he said, ‘Bring them here to me.’ Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”

What did we have easy access to here at Saint Stephen’s on that Wednesday night? Well, we had a secret stash of popsicles and ice cream bars left over from an earlier event. And we could get some ice and water and we could bring out some cups. And maybe most importantly, we had the number to the closest Domino’s Pizza. And so, while there were some moments of wondering, “How are we going to provide dinner to this crowd?” so that they would stick around for music and VBS with us, in the end, God gave us just what we needed: which, in this case, was a basket full of popsicles and Anne arriving with her Honda full of pizza boxes. God gave us what we needed—and then some. Just as in the Gospel, we didn’t run out of popsicles or pizzas—and at the end of the night, we still had at least 12 extra pizzas that we were giving away to anyone who would take one home.

God gives us what we need. God knows exactly what we need in the now, to keep us going from day to day, and from week to week. We need food and drink and shelter. We need work to occupy our hands and engage our minds. We need friends and family to stick by us and encourage us. We need all of these to “pass through things temporal” —the circumstances of this world that are passing away, the things that won’t last—in order that we may lay claim to the eternal: God’s love and peace that are from everlasting to everlasting, those things that will last.

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Recall some moments in life, whether recently or in the distant past, when you feared you would not have enough—whether money, or time, or the strength needed to get through a challenging time. Looking back on it now, how were your needs provided for? In what ways do you see now how God made something out of nothing, or made a way out of no way?

Daily Challenge

Today’s reflection is drawn from my sermon given on July 25, 2021. You can listen to the full sermon here on our Saint Stephen’s YouTube channel.

Take us, Renew us, Remake us - November 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; Ezra 7:(1-10)11-26; Rev. 14:1-13; Matt. 14:1-12

Since a few of my last reflections have taken you back thirty years or so, I thought I would keep up the trend!  Thirty years ago, or so, I was in 4th grade, Mrs. Gray’s class to be specific.  One of my classmates showed up to school with the latest and greatest hairstyle, a giant perm.  Our class wasn’t too kind.  I don’t remember laughing, and I don’t remember saying anything specifically, but I do remember the principal sitting with our class and talking about how upset he was that we had allowed each other to say mean things.  I do remember some students being upset because they felt, it was really only the actions of a few, and everyone was being blamed.  

In our Celtic service of Holy Eucharist, the confession that we have been saying lately comes from one of the Episcopal supplemental resources.  The words we say together are:

God of all mercy, we confess that we have sinned against you, opposing your will in our lives. We have denied your goodness in each other, in ourselves, and in the world you have created. We repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf. Forgive, restore, and strengthen us through our Savior Jesus Christ, that we may abide in your love and serve only your will. Amen.

When I first read this prayer, I struggled some with saying such a strong word as evil and the connection to our own lives.  But as I have continued to offer that prayer, it has been helpful for me to acknowledge “evil done on our behalf.”  By being human we are a part of broken systems, in need of God’s redemption.  I tend to believe that the vast majority of people have really good intentions almost all of the time, and yet that doesn’t mean that we aren’t entangled in something in need of God’s redemption and grace. 

Today’s Gospel reading from Matthew recalls Herod’s action of the beheading of John the Baptist. Herod makes a promise to his niece, the daughter of Herodias and Philip.  In other Scriptures, it is evident that Herod is trying to claim that he has no choice, but has to keep his promise.  When I read the story, it seems to me that the whole family is caught up in something pretty nefarious.  It makes me wonder sometimes how hard it is to distance ourselves from the actions of others, even when we don’t think we have done something wrong.

I’ve also been drawn lately to the post-communion prayer of the Celtic service.  One of the primary reasons for us gathering on Sundays is to be reminded that God is renewing our lives, and even taking the things we have done and left undone, and still sending us forward renewed and restored.  It never ends with our part in the story, but with where God is leading us into. No matter what, we entrust our lives to God and the actions of the past do not get to be our defining moments.  At the conclusion of the Celtic Service, we offer this post-communion prayer.  And it’s my prayer for all of us today.

Lord Jesus Christ,
you have put your life into our hands;
now we put our lives into yours.
Take us, renew us and remake us.
What we have been is past;
what we shall be, through you, still awaits us. Lead us on. Take us with you. Amen.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are your thoughts about participating in evil?  What are some examples? When you offer the confession at church do you mostly focus on your own actions or the actions of others?  How can a broader view be helpful to you?

Daily Challenge:  Write down the post-communion prayer written above.  Try offering this prayer throughout the day as a reminder of God’s work in our lives.

Birth pangs and chaos monsters - November 3

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Neh. 13:4-22; Rev. 12:1-12; Matt. 13:53-58

This morning, the reading from the Revelation to John is one that sends my imagination into overload. Visual images of a vivid drama jump off of the page. A sign appears in the sky: a woman clothed with the sun and the moon at her feet, adorned with a crown of twelve stars, pregnant and crying out in labor pains. Another sign appears in the sky: a huge red dragon with seven crowned heads and ten horns. Its tail swipes at the stars and takes down four of them. The chaos monster postures in front of the pregnant woman, as if to devour her child upon its birth. The boy-child is born, whisked away to God, and the woman is left to flee to a safe place hidden in the protection of the wilderness for 42 months…nearly 3 1/2 years. These are not verses we read aloud in Sunday services.

The motif of the pregnant woman being pursued by a dragon was akin to the Greek myth of Python the terrible monster hunting the Titan Leto while she was pregnant with Apollo (and Artemis). This oracle – this prophetic vision – in John’s revelation is grounded in a story familiar to people of the region. It means that this story resonated with the audience, triggering understanding and appealing to their senses on various levels.

While I studied mythology in middle school, this story had faded from my recollection – so what comes up for me when I read this scripture is memory of bearing my own two children. Labor and pain and upheaval. Those big breaths of release between contractions. The relief when all had subsided, and the gift of a tiny new person was laid upon my chest. Truth be told, there was no way I was fit to be fleeing from a dragon after those bundles of joy arrived. No way, no how.

The tale of the cosmic goddess and the Devil-dragon is a stirring one to wake us up on this Wednesday morning. The oracle serves in history and in today as a reminder of the battle we feel when the goodness of God feels threatened by the powers of evil around us. In talking with someone recently, they intimated something to this effect: Just when things start falling into place, something comes along and upsets the apple cart of healthy, joyful rhythms. That happens sometimes, doesn’t it? We work and pray for stillness and beauty in the garden, and storms come through littering the lawn with leaves and limbs. In the end of this piece of the oracle in Revelation, let us remember that the woman clothed in the sun was protected in the wilderness, for she found the place prepared for her by God – and in that space she was nourished.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Who is someone who has nurtured and nourished you, following a traumatic time? What did that look like and feel like? Who around you needs nourishing today?

Daily Challenge

Richard Hooker, famed Anglican theologian, is remembered this day. He was instrumental in the birthing of the Episcopal Church, as it is today. Spend a little time reading about Hooker, to appreciate his influence in our Anglican practices.

http://satucket.com/lectionary/RHooker.htm

https://www.britannica.com/biography/Richard-Hooker

Knowing Your Roots - November 2

Today’s Readings: Psalm 130; Wisdom 3:1-9; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18; John 5:24-27 

Today’s Reflection

Today is All Souls’ Day, known in Mexican and Mexican-American culture as la Día de los Muertos. For those who celebrate this day, a pilgrimage to the cemetery where family members are buried is one part of the celebrations. It is a day to celebrate the memories of those who have been a part of our lives as well as our family’s history through the generations—a day to give thanks for knowing who we are and where we come from.

Since moving to Alabama, my daughters and I have twice driven the 10+ hour drive to visit my parents in Florida. In March, on our way back to Birmingham, the route I chose took us on small Georgia state roads, one of which went right through the town where my dad grew up, Cuthbert, a very small town in rural, southwest Georgia. I wanted my daughters to see where Poppy grew up, and where I used to go a few times a year to visit my Granny and Granddaddy Bridges. As it turned out, the Georgia highway we were following went right by the cemetery where they are buried. Since there was still some time before sunset, we decided to get out of the car and walk through the cemetery to find their gravesite. We ended up walking all around it for about half an hour and never could find their marker, but it felt important to make the effort.

Once we gave up searching for their grave, we took a little detour to drive through the town square and then over to Highland Avenue, where they lived. As we kept driving toward Birmingham, the road also took us through Eufaula, where my grandparents met and married back in the 1940s, just before Granddaddy enlisted in the Army in World War II. On another trip to Florida this fall, my daughter and I drove home through Richland, the even tinier town where Granddaddy grew up, also in southwest Georgia. I pointed out buildings, including the small downtown, that had stood when he grew up there, and tried to picture what it had been like for him there in the 1920s and 1930s. It’s very important, as I told my daughters that day, to know where they come from, and to be able to imagine where their grandfather grew up and where their great-grandparents used to live.

That little cemetery detour reminded me of the times my dad would take us on detours into cemeteries when my dad went through a long genealogy phase for several years during my growing up. We went to the cemetery in Richland, Georgia, where several generations of the Bridges side lived in the 1800s and 1900s, and we went to some cemeteries in northern Louisiana, where some Bridges relations moved after getting a land grant after the Civil War, and to graveyards in Kentucky where my mother’s family has lived for many generations.

The result of all this genealogical detective work is that my dad made these two thick books, one for me and one for my brother, that gives us many specific details of who our people were in generations past. I know that relatives on my Granny Bridges’ side (the Pugh side) ended up in south Alabama, but they came there from South Carolina and before that Virginia and Wales. I know that another ancestor was a spy in the Revolutionary War, and that I had ancestors who served on both sides in the Civil War And I know that relatives on Grandpa Barrick’s side (my mom’s dad’s family) came to Virginia from England in the 1620s, and that one of them may have been a captain on one of the boats that brought people there.

One fact that was especially fascinating for me to learn, as I re-read my family tree book several years ago right before I left for seminary, is that it turns out that I am not the first Anglican person in our family of Methodists and Baptists. Thanks to all the genealogical work of my mom’s uncle, we know of Barrick relatives who were baptized in Christ Church Middlesex, a Church of England congregation in the Virginia Tidewater so long ago that the Episcopal church didn’t yet exist. Today that church is part of the Episcopal Church. Presiding Bishop Michael Curry made a visit there to help them celebrate their 350th anniversary back in 2016. I would love to visit that church next time I am in Virginia, to give thanks for those long-ago relatives who shared the same faith that I have today.

Today I give thanks for the souls of all those who have gone for us, and especially those who have laid the groundwork for the faith we now share.

—Becky+

Collect for All Souls’ Day

O God, the Maker and Redeemer of all believers: Grant to the faithful departed the unsearchable benefits of the passion of your Son; that on the day of his appearing they may be manifested as your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and ever. Amen.

Questions for Self-Reflection

Who comes to mind for you when you think of remembering people from generations past? What aspects of their lives do you see living on in you and later generations? What aspects of your life do you hope that people will remember about you and live on in the memories and lives of those who follow?

Daily Challenge

As we reflect on the scriptures appointed for All Souls’ Day, take some time today to look back at family photos and maybe even your own family tree. Reflect on the faces you see, the names and dates, the births and baptisms, and all the other details that led to you to being who you are and where you are today.

Proving a Point - November 1

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; Neh. 6:1-19; Rev. 10:1-11; Matt. 13:36-43

I can’t believe I am going to admit this story, but it’s the story that came flooding back when reading today’s Gospel.  When I was in fifth grade, I had a mechanical pencil, one of those black Bic pens, with the colored pocket clip and white eraser.  Someone in my class said something about pencil lead causing lead poisoning. Adamant that this was ridiculous, I clicked the pencil several times and took a big bite of the long tube of mechanical pencil offering.  I couldn’t stomach other people being so wrong, and I was so sure that this was just a little graphite used to record mathematical equations and diagram sentences.  And someone had to set these uninformed fifth-graders straight.  Yes, I was probably more than a little annoying and this likely explains much more about me than the aptitude of my classroom.

I was rightly ridiculed for some time for just how far I would push limits and the need to be right, something that I have been working on for my whole life. Maybe this is why my ears perk up when I read the disciples asking Jesus to teach them the meaning of a parable. In this small request, there is an implication that they have already heard the parable, they do not understand it, and this is after intimately traveling with Jesus. I’m pretty sure that this isn’t one of my favorite parables that we hear this morning (you will hear much more comforting Scripture tonight at the Feast of All Saints), but it is a reminder that I have much more to learn.

When I think over the past 19 months, of all that I have learned (spanning from Public Health metrics to Livestreaming technology capabilities), what is really apparent is how much I don’t know.  Maybe the gift of the disciples’ questions, is the reminder we get to question too.

Today’s parable stands in stark contrast to the vision of the Company of Heaven that have gone before us, that we draw upon in the Eucharistic vision as gathered at the feast.  But when you read the two together, it leaves a lot of room for uncertainty.  I have to think that’s a good thing.

 Not all of our questions can be resolved with an easy answer.  I’ll try to remember that.  And don’t worry, I’ve given up pencil lead for more than just Lent.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What is the farthest you have gone to prove a point?  How would you handle that same challenge today? 

Daily Challenge: Read this fun article about opinions that our staff read last week.

Real and honest prayer - October 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 138, 139:1-17(18-23)
Neh. 4:1-23; Rev. 7:(4-8)9-17; Matt. 13:31-35

Each year, the diocese plans a time at Camp McDowell called the Clergy and Spouse retreat. It is during the week, since clergy usually have weekend responsibilities; clergy spouses who have flexibility in their schedules sometimes come along. Meant as a time of respite and reconnection, the gathering builds community among the clergy and families across the diocese. I arrived at Camp McDowell near the end of dinner Thursday, as there were work things to tie up, family time and hugs, and then the drive on wet roads through rural counties to Nauvoo, Alabama. Gatherings of clergy families often feel a bit like “old home week” for me, having grown up in the Episcopal Church in Alabama. Even so, there were moments yesterday that I looked around and felt out of my comfort zone. For those who come from other dioceses to serve parishes in Alabama, it may feel exclusive or awkward at times – like a new kid in the noisy lunchroom, only seeing unfamiliar faces.

As I read Psalm 55 this morning and ponder the scriptures, I wonder about the prayers sprinting through the minds of those who find themselves in uncomfortable spaces. When in a circumstance that is stretching me, it is not parables and pondering that keep me rooted. It is prayer to God, asking again and again for divine companionship and solace, though the holy comfort can feel as though it slips through my fumbling fingers.

Take a few moments and wander through a portion of Psalm 55 with me:

The psalmist prays, “Hear my prayer, O God; do not hide yourself from my petition.” Clear, real, and concise.

Next is the honest appeal: “Listen to me and answer me; I have no peace because of my cares.” There is a purity and simplicity to this call for God’s help.

What follows are several ways that those cares and concerns are manifesting themselves in the person’s life as they turn to God for support: “I am shaken by the noise of the enemy and by the pressure of the wicked; for they have cast an evil spell upon me…my heart quakes within me…fear and trembling have come over me, and horror overwhelms me.” What a low and terrifying space.

The next three verses show a glimpse of the psalmist’s stress response: “Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest. I would flee to a far-off place and make my lodging in the wilderness.” Each who has prayed these verses can surely understand the wish to sprout wings and escape to a quiet, distant place.

From there, the psalm goes darker. If verses 7 through 9 highlight the “flight” response, then verses 10 and beyond contain “fight” responses: “Swallow them up, O Lord…let death come upon them suddenly; let them go down alive into the grave.”

Psalms hold this gift of encapsulating the myriad of fleeting thoughts and feelings that well up inside of us. Psalm 55 is proof that all that heaviness truly can be dumped upon God…the disappointment of being betrayed, the sinfulness we feel in ourselves and see in others. All of it. These ancient words of prayer remind us to cast our burdens upon the Lord, for God will sustain us (v. 24), even in really hard times.

Until the day that we mutate beautifully with wings that can carry us away from dangers with our feathered friends, join me in praying honestly and faithfully to God, who is strong enough to bear all of our concerns and generous enough to extend boundless grace to cushion us when we fall.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When have you taken time to rest and play this week?

What has been the content of your prayers this week?

Daily Challenge

Write down three words to describe your prayer time. In the week ahead, make notes of the trends of your prayers. When do you pray during the day? Do you pray for yourself? Others? What are you saying to God? What are you asking of God? When in your days are you feeling connected to God?

Pausing to Pray - October 29

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Neh. 2:1-20; Rev. 6:12-7:4; Matt. 13:24-30

Today’s Reflection

“Then the king said to me, ‘What do you request?’ So I prayed to the God of heaven. Then I said to the king, ‘If it pleases the king, and if your servant has found favor with you, I ask that you send me to Judah, to the city of my ancestors’ graves, so that I may rebuild it.’ The king said to me (the queen also was sitting beside him), ‘How long will you be gone, and when will you return?’ So it pleased the king to send me, and I set him a date.” Nehemiah 2: 4-6 

I’ll be honest—before yesterday in Morning Prayer, I don’t think I had ever read anything from the Book of Nehemiah. Maybe I have at some point, but if I have, I don’t remember it! All I knew about it before that it is an Old Testament book that comes after Ezra and before Esther.

But as I’ve read the first couple chapters this week, I’m discovering that Nehemiah is more interesting than I would ever have guessed. Nehemiah is a book about a hero and his quest to find the resources and the companions needed to fulfill a very important mission: to rebuild the walls of his hometown, Jerusalem.

When we first find Nehemiah is yesterday’s reading, chapter 1, Nehemiah has learned from his brothers, who are returning from their travels, about what has happened to the Jews who were living in exile and what had unfolded in their beloved Jerusalem. When Nehemiah heard the news that “The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates are destroyed by fire,” his response was deep and from the heart: “I sat down and wept and mourned for days, and I continued fasting and praying before the God of heaven.” Nehemiah is pouring out his heart to God, acknowledging his shortcomings and those of his people, and asking for God’s love to continue to be extended to them anyway. He is confessing and seeking forgiveness. And he is also praying that God, in his great mercy, will somehow make a way for his people to be gathered again to the place that he has chosen and allow God’s name to dwell there. Nehemiah is praying for God’s help: “O Lord, let your ear be attentive to your servant today, and grant him mercy in the sight of this man.”

“This man” is King Artaxerxes of Persia. At the very end of chapter 1, after Nehemiah’s long prayer, we learn this: Nehemiah is serving as the cupbearer to the king. He is the one who bringing the king and queen their wine, so one can imagine that he has very personal access to the leader on a daily basis. And as a result, the king has gotten to know Nehemiah well enough to notice when something is wrong—and to care about how things are going for Nehemiah: “And the king said to me, ‘Why is your face sad, seeing you are not sick? This is nothing but sadness of the heart.” Nehemiah felt afraid—someone in his position was supposed to keep up appearance, to be a pleasant person with a smile on his face when he brought the king his cup.

But in that moment, Nehemiah decided to be honest, and shared the bad news he had learned about Jerusalem. The king’s response was not the one Nehemiah had been fearing, but instead was a supportive response: “What are you requesting?” This threw Nehemiah for a second—he didn’t know quite what to say! In that moment, Nehemiah quickly realized that the king could provide help to Nehemiah that would allow him to help attempt something huge: to rebuild the walls! But instead of just blurting out an excited response, we learn that Nehemiah took a moment to ask for God’s help, too: “So I prayed to the God of heaven.” And after that pause to take a deep breath and ask for God’s wisdom, Nehemiah began to speak—and when he did, Nehemiah spoke boldly, and he asked for exactly what he needed: to be sent to Judah, to be given letters to allow him to pass through the lands between Persia and Judah, and to be given all the timber needed to rebuild the walls. Nehemiah stepped out in faith and made the big ask—and in response, “the king granted me what I asked, for the good hand of God was upon me.”

As Nehemiah unfolds over the next several days in our lectionary readings, we’ll continue to follow the adventures of this hero as he arrives in Jerusalem, overcomes opposition, works on behalf of the poor, and responds to conspiracies. Nehemiah’s story is most heroic not because of what he builds for God and his people (though that, too, is important), but because of the way he goes about it: by devoting himself to God, and always seeking God’s wisdom and purpose through prayer.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When has someone noticed your feelings, despite your hope to hide them? How did it change things to know that someone else noticed and cared enough to ask how you are doing? How do you respond when someone unexpectedly offers you help?

Daily Challenge

Read more about why Jerusalem held such spiritual importance for people like Ezra and Nehemiah.

Community: The Good Soil - October 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 50; PM Psalm [59, 60] or 103; Neh. 1-1:11; Rev. 5:11-6:11; Matt. 13:18-23

At the conclusion of last night’s Trunk or Treat event, I was walking through the building with a parishioner, reflecting on both the beauty and joy of the evening and the challenges of earlier in the day, and arguably the last eighteen months.  He remarked, “John, I’m guessing you didn’t get the pandemic handbook in seminary.”  It was a warm response and the simple acknowledgment and support set me at ease and reminded me how important the support of each other can truly be. 

There has been a lot of reflection lately about Christian community and the long-term effects of the pandemic.  Being able to stream and worship from home has been an absolutely remarkable gift.  Some are critical that it keeps people from being in community and we still have to live out our faith in community and caution that it can further drive the idea that our faith is something we can consume. I strongly believe that faith is about changed hearts, and changed hearts truly change the world, so a whole lot of good can happen through technology and livestreaming.  But it does beg the question of how do we continue to build community as the Body of Christ if that is such a critical component of our faith?

Today’s Gospel reading is the parable of the sower.  Jesus casts an image of scattering of seed and the seed’s success is dependent upon the ground that it lands.  The parable is set not just about our faith, but how we hear the word of God.  Jesus suggests that even those who hear the word of God and receive it with joy, when they have no root, it is like sowing seed among thorns that choke the word.  The parable is not just about how we hear the word of God, and what we believe, but the soil necessary to receive the word of God.  When we hear the Word of God in good soil, we flourish.

Often when talking about discernment in church, we cast a vision of the role of community.  Understanding God’s call is not something we do on our own, but something that we do together. It’s why the Gospel is often read from the middle of the people on Sunday mornings.  We hear it together.  And then when life challenges us, we face those challenges together through our support, prayer, reflection, and encouragement.  Maybe the good soil is a community of faith that works together for the Glory of God.

No matter where you are reading this, or how your worship is lived out, know that you are a part of the body of Christ.  And we need each other to make sense of the word of God.  I’m grateful that each of you helps me to do that.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How has someone in your faith community supported you lately? How have you supported someone else?  How has this changed over the last eighteen months?

Daily Challenge:  Here is last week’s Prayer list.  Pray for the people on the list today.  If you know someone, reach out and share that you prayed for them, or you can reach out to someone on the birthday list and wish them a happy birthday. 

Communication problems - October 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; Ezra 6:1-22; Rev. 5:1-10; Matt. 13:10-17

One of my favorite “Fawlty Towers” episodes was called “Communication Problems”. The BBC sitcom was set in a hotel on the English Riviera. A guest named Mrs. Richards came to stay, and while she had hearing aids to supplement her diminished hearing, she refused to keep them turned on, for fear that she would run the batteries down. This quirk caused great grist for the comedic mill of John Cleese and his hotel staff.

The memory of Mrs. Richards and her refusal to keep her “ears turned on” came up for me this morning as I reflected on the Bible readings for today. We humans continue to have communication problems, interpersonally and in our dealings with God. We long to hear, and yet we do not listen. We long to see, and yet we do not see clearly. We seek to understand, and yet we just cannot get the whole point ingrained within us, or we forget.

The prophets like Isaiah and Jeremiah were sent to relay prophecies to God’s people – sharing illustrative forecasts of what was to come, based on what was happening in the here-and-now. There were times that the people listened. Often, the prophets’ words were ignored. Oracles and prophecies used figurative comparisons, sometimes as clear proverbs, and other times as obscure riddles. Rabbis used these teaching strategies, too, as they told parables – talking about one thing in terms of another. This technique challenges the hearer/reader to pay attention and draw connections, though all in the audience do not reach the same conclusion every time.

In Matthew 13, we find a conversation between Jesus and the disciples. They ask their teacher directly, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He answers them, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given.” He says that those who flock around him are missing the messages in every way possible. Jesus, paraphrasing from Isaiah 6:9-10, continues:

“With them indeed is fulfilled the prophecy of Isaiah that says:

“You will indeed listen, but never understand,
   and you will indeed look, but never perceive.
For this people’s heart has grown dull,
   and their ears are hard of hearing,
     and they have shut their eyes;
     so that they might not look with their eyes,
   and listen with their ears,
and understand with their heart and turn—
   and I would heal them.”

The ancient words from Isaiah remind me how our communication problems are endemic; they are generationally perpetuated.

Jesus shares reassurance with his friends about God’s role in their lives, reminding them that their eyes and ears are blessed – and they see and hear. Ironically, the disciples still have communication problems; they cannot fully understand and are quite obtuse in comprehending the messages Jesus imparts as he goes through ministry in Israel.

In spite of their ineptitude, Jesus remained faithful to his disciples. They stayed faithful to him, though they did not understand all that he did and said. The strength of these relationships can be a buoy when we find that we are not good listeners, or that we are not seeing the picture clearly. Remember: we are all afflicted with communication problems.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What is a recent conflict or tension in your life that was caused by a communication problem? What brought greater understanding?

Looking from the outside in, what was a miscommunication you witnessed among others?

Daily Challenge 

Research effective communication skills - both in speaking and in listening. Take a few minutes to remind yourself or learn a new thing or two. Then, revisit the reading from Matthew 13:10-17. Prayerfully consider what Jesus is saying to you.

Glimpses of Heaven - October 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 45; PM Psalm 47, 48; Ezra 5:1-17; Rev. 4:1-11; Matt. 13:1-9

Today’s Reflection

And the four living creatures, each of them with six wings, are full of eyes all around and inside. Day and night without ceasing they sing, ‘Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come.’ —Revelation 4: 8

In Revelation 4, John paints a vivid scene anticipating what heaven will be like. Heaven, as we read in these verses, is filled with such beautiful sights as a throne, encircled by a rainbow, surrounded by 24 more thrones, on which are seated 24 elders in white robes with golden crowns. From the throne emanates thunder and lightning, and lined up in front of the throne are seven torches (the seven spirits of God, John writes) facing a sea that seems as clear as glass or crystal. And not only all of this, but then around the throne are also four creatures, each with a different face, but all four levitating or flying with their six wings each and all four covered in eyes. This seems a strange scene to most of us, and one that might make some say, “This is not my idea of heaven!”

Of course, many commentators believe that the Book of Revelation is in the category of apocalyptic literature. This means that all these strange images and scenes are metaphoric—they were meant to point us toward either the historical circumstances with which John was struggling at the time, or toward a spiritual reality so beyond what we can grasp (or what our mere words can describe) that John’s attempt comes across as not only otherworldly but even unbelievable.

But I’d like to consider how we ourselves can experience something very otherworldly and inexplicably beautiful when we come together for worship. When I think of recent Sunday services in the Nave at Saint Stephen’s, I find myself recalling moments when we entered God’s time and I could gain even just the briefest glimpse of what heaven—or eternal life worshipping in the loving presence of God—could be like.

Here’s one such holy moment: Processing out the Gospel as the congregation sang “Amazing Grace.” I love when the acolytes and I get out to our place amidst the congregation and there is still a stanza or so left to sing. I love that moment of being surrounded by the congregation, singing the last stanza out in the middle of the pews, gazing up at the cross that was processed out as well as the cross on the back wall, then lifting the book high into air (so that we may, with reverence, acknowledge it to be the Holy Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ), and finally being able to boldly proclaim the words and deeds of Christ. It is meaningful to be able to proclaim the Word of God surrounded by all of you—the people who embody the Body of Christ. This is one glimpse of being forever in the presence of God.

Another set of holy moments: The way time slows down and my only thought and every focus is on praying the Eucharistic prayer. I am very aware of my surroundings, of who is near me, of who is gathered throughout the church, and I feel at peace. (Sometimes the lights above us will flicker off and on inexplicably. In those moments I cannot help but pause and smile, sensing that maybe God is winking at us in these moments of technical difficulty!) I feel so grateful for the privilege of leading us in these prayers that prepare us to receive Holy Communion together. When we sing together the Sanctus—reminiscent of the “holy, holy, holy” hymn we read of the winged creatures singing in Revelation 4—and we behind the table are bowing out of reverence for God’s holiness, this is a glimpse of what was, and is, and is to come. Or that brief, shining moment of deep clarity and silence when I raise the host and break it in half, declaring that “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.” The silence we hold in that moment makes the sound of breaking of the bread seem very clear, and reminiscent to me of Christ’s very bones being broken for us. And then, as the Fraction hymn begins, for me it is very meaningful to be able to sing “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of world, have mercy on us” while I am breaking the host into the pieces that will be shared with all those gathered. This reminds me of how Jesus took the five loaves and made sure there was enough for all gathered to share. These, too, are further glimpses of our being forever in the presence of God.

And then, as we make our way through the pews sharing “the Body of Christ, the bread of heaven,” to have that moment with each person is the best of all. (To be honest, I will kind of miss our ‘communion delivery service’ when we go back to the rail for all our services, as I have gotten used to this way of bringing the bread and the wine to where you are—and it is a good reminder that worship happens all around the worship space, not just up at the front!) Some make eye contact, some with serious eyes and some with smiling eyes. Some look down or close their eyes. Some say “Amen.” Some visitors, and especially younger ones, will say “thank you.” A few will lower their masks just before I offer communion, though most leave their masks on until after they intinct their wafer into the wine. One person usually lowers their mask to reveal an especially joyful smile as I place the bread in their hand. Some infants and toddlers, who do not yet fully understand what is going on, instinctually reach their hands out to receive the bread. Other little ones need a little nudge from a mom or dad or grandparent to put their hands out so that I may give them the bread. Others cross their arms across their chests to show that they would like to receive a blessing. Each time I turn to the next person to offer the bread of heaven is yet another glimpse of being forever in the presence of God—and of all those who want to share in God’s love and light for ever.

I pray that we may all be able to experience, in these precious times of worshipping together, a sense of being suspended together for a moment in God’s time—and that together we may catch a glimpse of what heaven is like in the here and now.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Recall a recent worship service in which you participated, whether in person or online. What moments stand out to you as ones when you gained a glimpse of being in communion with God and all the company of heaven?

Daily Challenge

If you want to dig deeper into the “eschatological nature of liturgy,” especially of how the service of Holy Communion is “a ritual enactment of the Last Day, a corporate enactment of our collective hope,” take a look at Nathan Jennings’ blog post, “The End Repeats the Beginning.”

Or for another take on the meaning and function of our liturgy, see my recent Sunday Forum presentation on “How Do We Keep the Gift Moving? A Quick, Deep Dive into Liturgical Theology.”

Everything In Between - October 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; Zech. 1:7-17; Rev. 1:4-20; Matt. 12:43-50

One of the peculiar challenges of the Saint Stephen’s nave (worship space) is the lack of kneelers in the Sanctuary (area behind the altar rail).  The sanctuary is designed to seat around sixteen people, but only if none of the three movable kneelers are used.  What this means or implies, is no one from the sanctuary can kneel unless they go down to the Altar rail or kneel on the plain hardwood.  If you have wondered why the Altar party almost universally sits or stands, this is why. 

However, the more common practices of the Episcopal church have been to kneel during the Eucharistic prayer (except during the 50 days of Easter), kneel during the confession and absolution, and kneel during the post-communion prayer and the blessing that follows.  At Saint Stephen’s, you will see any mixture of kneeling.  Serving as the Celebrant and facing the congregation, one sees the diversity in how people practice their faith. Some are kneeling, others make the sign of the cross as the priest offers a blessing.  Having brought the Eucharist out to the congregation over the past few months, some kneel, some stand, and even a handful remain seated.  

One of my favorite observations is seeing who also makes the sign of the cross.  Some people make the sign of the cross during the Nicene or Apostles’ Creed when the word ‘resurrection’ is mentioned at the end, others when a priest offers a blessing or absolution, and when a blessing is invoked during the Eucharist. A handful of people make the small crosses on their forehead, lips, and heart when the gospel is read. I’m guessing more of the people who cross themselves have a background in the Catholic tradition, although all of your clergy make the sign of the cross and that is not true for each of us. 

Another observation has been to hear how each of the clergy offer a blessing in a slightly different way.  Katherine+ often uses the words ‘you are covered in the Blessing.’  These are not words that I had heard often before, but when I mirror her actions and make the sign of the cross to the words she offers, it’s as if at each point of my body, I feel God’s blessing surround me.  My prayer becomes bodily as fingers touch my forehead and shoulders. 

As I reflect on these actions, I wonder if the sign of the cross helps me to remember that God is always with me.  God that was with me in the beginning and will be with me in the end, is also with me at this moment.  As we move to the end of the liturgical year, we begin today with the reading of Revelation, a challenging apocalyptic text that will be our New Testament reading for the next five weeks or so.  It is from Revelation, today’s reading particularly, that we get the image of God being the ‘Alpha and the Omega’ or the beginning and the end.

If God is the beginning and the end, it would make sense for us to see everything in between as a gift from God.  If we start with God and we finish with God, doesn’t everything in between belong to God as well?

I think the challenge as faithful people is not to see Sunday as our faithful playground, but our entire lives.  How we treat the people we work with, the relationships we build in the community, our families and friends, the early mornings we rise, and the late evenings we enjoy, our vocations, and certainly, our Sunday mornings are all shaped by the love of God.  The God that created all in the beginning and the God that will redeem at the end is still a part of everything else.  God has surrounded us with his blessing.  We just have to be paying attention.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are your postures in worship?  When do kneel and when do you stand?  Are your actions shaped by what others around you are doing or do you believe strongly in your posture?  Do you make the sign of the cross? 

Daily Reflection:  Plan to try a different posture at church this Sunday.  Whatever your practice might be, do it differently and see how that posture changes your experience of worship.  If you have never made the sign of the cross, try it this Sunday.  I suggest in the middle of the Eucharistic prayer when the priest crosses himself/herself.  You will have to pay attention to see when!

Saving grace - October 23

In reading the Bible, with a goal of getting through the whole thing, it feels like an accomplishment to finish one book of the Good Book. If you read the appointed New Testament Epistle today, Philemon 1-25, you will do just that. It is the shortest Pauline letter, coming in at 335 words in Greek. While it is short, this text brings up a topic laden with layers of complexity: slavery in a Christian household. As such, the Letter of Paul to Philemon has been a source of disagreement and discussion around its purpose and application to Christian living.

As I sit and reflect on this text, several memories bubble up. Jane Patterson is a priest and New Testament scholar who recently retired from Seminary of the Southwest. She is one of my role models, and time in her class was challenging and enlightening. I recall one afternoon when she walked through this letter of Paul, exploring the intricacies of Greek words and the arc of content, so that we might connect with the deeper story at the heart of this communication.

What comes up for me in remembering that session is that Paul is appealing for Onesimus: “Formerly he was useless to you, but now he is indeed useful both to you and to me.” (v. 11) Onesimus is the Greek word for useful or beneficial. Because of the time spent with Paul and being mentored by him, perhaps this young man has returned to the spirit of his true self, and to that of his name. He has become useful again. And in this change akin to metamorphosis, Paul is releasing Onesimus to Philemon – in the hopes that Philemon will also release the young man. A release from the bondage of debt, blame, and even slavery.

Have you spent time with someone before who helped you return to your true self – or realize who God has made you to be? What a gift such people are to us. I think of my grandmother Margaret as one of these people. She had a gentle presence and brought such delight, with her mirthful chuckle and hopeful air. I loved getting to sit down on the sofa next to her when we would visit. She would ask me of the things I was learning, doing, and thinking about. Even when I was older, I would call her to catch up, and talking to her was easy. The world felt calmer and more beautiful at Grandmother Margaret’s house. Upon leaving, she would open the refrigerator in her garage and offer us a chilled canned soda. It was a gift for our departure.

As I wrap up this wandering reflection and connect back to today’s New Testament text, Paul was giving Onesimus a gift upon his departure: a clear path to restoration, reconciliation, and reception as a brother in Christ. Perhaps that path would lead to manumission – a release from captivity. We are not left with certainty of the outcome. The pieces of the puzzle do not offer closure. And yet, let us cling to the closing of Paul’s letter as we each return to our lives, that are also lacking in certainty and closure in all things: The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Who is someone who can convince you to change your mind? How do they do it – through reason, humor, kindness, or something else?

What is something in your life that is lacking closure?

Daily Challenge

Take fifteen minutes today (or whenever you read this reflection) to wander through Philemon. What is clear to you in this letter? What is murky? Sit in prayer for five minutes, giving thanks for clarity and asking for your eyes to be open to the puzzles that remain in life.

Let All You Do Be Done in Love - October 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; Ezra 3:1-13; 1 Cor 16:10-24; Matt. 12:22-32

Today’s Reflection

Keep alert, stand firm in your faith, be courageous, be strong. Let all that you do be done in love.

–1 Corinthians 16-13-14

One of the things I love best about Paul’s letters is the strong sense of community that Paul describes existing amongst the believers in the churches to whom he is writing from afar. In today’s passage from the first letter to the believers in Corinth, Paul gives us a glimpse into some of the pillars of that faith community. We read first of two of Paul’s co-laborers for the Gospel, Timothy and Apollos. And then, as Paul continues, we hear of Stephanas and his household, and of Fortunatus and Achaicus, too. Paul is grateful that these friends from Corinth have come to see him, writing that they have “refreshed my spirit.” Paul is writing to the people in Corinth to encourage them to “put yourself in the service of such people, and of everyone who works and toils with them.” Likely, Paul has sent this very letter back with these three men in hopes that the people who receive it in Corinth will be refreshed in their spirits as they read his words to them.

Paul, at the time he is writing this letter, is with the churches in Asia. He is with fellow believers Aquila and Prisca. He wants the believers in Corinth to know that Aquila and Prisca “together with the church in their house” send warm greetings from afar. Paul and the believers in Aquila and Prisca’s church care for their fellow believers in Corinth. They want good things for them. The implication is that they are praying for them; it is important to Paul to let his friends in Corinth know that he is with them in spirit, even when he must be with people elsewhere. They send their greetings from afar.

Paul wants the people in Corinth to share such warmth and love amongst themselves, urging them to “greet one another with a holy kiss.” In that cultural context, a holy kiss was likely equivalent sharing a handshake or a hug or perhaps a pat on the arm or the back. At some points over these past 18 months, we have been required to abstain from these reassuring gestures of warmth and friendship. As some of us grow more comfortable with sharing these tactile gestures of welcome, we have those awkward moments of asking if it is OK to share a handshake or a side hug at the Peace during the Sunday service—or when we run into someone we recognize, whether in the church hallway or somewhere out in the community. I have missed these ways of letting each other know that we share friendship and human connection in the body of Christ. But I also don’t want to overstep the bounds of what is comfortable for others during these times when many continue to be concerned about spreading illnesses through close proximity. So, we may continue to have these awkward moments where we make eye contact and try to figure out would you rather have a handshake, a side hug, or a peace sign at a safe distance.

We have been through a lot together—as families, as a church, and as a part of a global community—over the past year and a half. It’s been joyous to see so many people returning to church for worship and learning and celebrations like the Blessing of the Solar Panels. No matter how we choose to greet one another, know that together we are able to embody Paul’s admonition to the Corinthians to stand firm in the faith, be courageous, and be strong. We are better together—so let all that you do be done in love.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When you have been away from Saint Stephen’s at different points over the past year and a half, what have you missed the most?

What will refresh your spirit the most now that you are back (or that you look forward to experiencing again when you return)?

Daily Challenge

What is one way you can get involved in continuing the culture of warmth and welcome at Saint Stephen’s?

Consider whether you are meant to deliver flowers or meals, send notes and cards, make home communion visits, greet people as they enter the church on Sundays, or help people find their seats for worship.

Or maybe it is as simple as greeting the people next to you in the pews with a smile and maybe a handshake or a side hug at the Peace.

Rebuilding the Temple - October 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 37:1-18; PM Psalm 37:19-42; Ezra 1:1-11; 1 Cor. 16:1-9; Matt. 12:15-21

There are some pretty obscure books in the Bible.  Ezra is one of those, a book that I don’t recall ever being read on a Sunday morning in the Episcopal Church and only has three days of the daily lectionary dedicated to parts of its story.  Ezra is often read alongside Nehemiah since the same central characters are in both stories and they write about events that are linked to each other. 

For a little bit of background, the story takes place at the end of the Babylonian exile when Judeans were deported from Palestine to Babylon under King Nebuchadnezzar.  The exile begins when Nebuchadnezzar sacks Jerusalem and begins deporting the Jewish people where they are forced to live in a different culture and struggle to understand their own Jewish identity (this is what the book of Esther is about).  Our story today begins when Cyrus the Great rises to power and in the year 539 BCE, allows the Judeans to return to Jerusalem.  Cyrus of Persia sends out an edict inviting the Judeans back to Jerusalem and shares a vision of the restoration of the Temple.  It is a story of remarkable homecoming.

It seems serendipitous that today, I am drafting an announcement for next week that will help our congregation plan for the next phase in our Covid response as numbers continue to decline and it becomes safer to gather in some of the ways that we have gathered before.  Our staff has been working diligently to figure out ways to engage our congregation.  I don’t think it’s a stretch to compare the last 18 months to the Babylonian exile, where we have found ourselves without a physical temple, a way for many to know God, and we have struggled as in the story of Esther to lose our identity if we don’t remember who we are.

And as numbers continue to decline, I suspect that at some point, likely in the very near future, the Bishop, aka modern-day King Cyrus of Persia, will announce that we can take off our masks inside, and for some, that will feel like the ability to return to Jerusalem.  For others, as hopefully, Covid fades, and they find their own level of comfort growing, they might feel more comfortable in the nave. And I acknowledge, that many of us have been inside and worshiping for some time, and others may feel very grounded in their faith from their homes, but I think the metaphor still holds some weight.  We are all waiting for a sense of security, safety, and freedom all co-mingled to allow us to return to something that has not been fully restored. 

What is intriguing in the text is the invitation from Cyrus of Persia to invite the whole community to restore the temple.  It is not an action done by the religious king, or later in the story the priest, but it takes the actions of the whole community.  Each person has a responsibility to offer up what is theirs to the building of the Temple. 

Fortunately, at Saint Stephen’s, people have always been incredibly generous and sustained our community through the challenges we have faced, but it might be helpful to see each of the gifts of our time, talent, and treasure, our leadership abilities, and our relationships as integral to the restoration of the religious center of our lives.   It worked in 539 BCE and still offers us wisdom today.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: How does the story of exile help you process the past 18 months? Where does this metaphor have value and where does it fall short?   What are the gifts that you offer each day to the restoration of the religious center of your communities’ life?

Daily Challenge: Make an inventory of different ways you can help build up your faith community.  What are five different things you have to offer? 

Sharing the Love and Healing Power of Jesus – October 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; Lam. 2:8-15; 1 Cor. 15:51-58; Matt. 12:1-14

My moment closest to God on Sunday was a tender moment during the “in-between”. Following the funeral I officiated in Trussville at a funeral home, I was walking to my car to leave my vestments, consecrated communion box, and prayer book, prior to visiting at the reception with family and friends. The sun was shining brightly as I walked down the stairs into the parking lot. I heard a voice yell out, “Pastor!” I turned, confused, as I am not usually heralded in this way.

I saw a woman hurrying out toward me. She was a familiar face, as I had spoken to her before the service when she indicated that she was looking for a church home. I suggested she try Saint Stephen’s, as it is a warm and welcoming place. She said that she lived in Shelby County; that was just too far for her to drive. We continued that conversation and then a few minutes later, I got vested to begin the service.

Fast-forward to the parking lot, bathed in glorious rays of sunlight, the woman approached me and said, “I heard the Word of God’s grace and healing preached today. I really needed to hear about God’s grace and redemption. I am coming to your church.”

In preparation for this funeral service, I could not have guessed that a Rite I Burial of the Dead service, chock full of thee, thou, and thy, would become a vessel of evangelism. My prayer was that God would bring comfort to a grieving family. As I ponder God’s wondrous ways of weaving us together in love, I realize that the healing we seek in rites of saying goodbye can be a doorway into experiencing God’s love and grace when we need it most.

In a newsletter from Forward Movement this morning, the executive director Scott Gunn wrote these words, “I wonder if we would think of evangelism differently if we thought of it as a way of sharing the “love and healing power” of Jesus Christ.” When I read Scott’s words, I felt a resounding “YES” bubble up within me. Yes!! That is at the heart of ministry – sharing the love and healing power of Jesus Christ. I see it as so many of you send letters, deliver flowers, drop off meals, and pray for those in need – sharing the healing power of Jesus and the love of God. It is transformational … for those who receive it and for those who are on the giving end.

I am reminded of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, exploring what Jesus’ death and resurrection will look like, and then what resurrection will be like for all of us on the last day. He says, “Listen, I will tell you a mystery! We will not all die, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” We will be changed from perishable to imperishable. Death will be swallowed up, and the sting of death will be no more. Those are words of hopeful promise to us. And when we grieve, those are meaningful words of mystery, as the sting of loss and pain of death are so fresh and raw.

God’s grace and love are transformational. God changes us. What if we change how we see annual giving at Saint Stephen’s? Perhaps we can dare to experience stewardship not as charts and numbers, but as a piece of evangelism…sharing the love and healing power of Jesus Christ. I believe that when we see giving as a way of getting swept into the healing grace of God, we enter into this mysterious realm of welcome, where we will drive a long way to church, or give generously of our time and talents during parish work days, or commit a portion of our earthly gifts to the mission of building up God’s church, grounded in the healing love of Jesus.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection: For what are you hungering today? How can God bring you healing and peace? Who in your neighborhood is yearning for welcome or comfort? How will you intentionally pray for them?

Daily Challenge: Spend five minutes in prayer and reflection about sharing the healing love of Jesus with those around us. Then, invite someone to church at Saint Stephen's!

I Will Give You Rest - October 19

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39; Lam. 1:1-5(6-9)10-12; 1 Cor. 15:41-50; Matt. 11:25-30

Today’s Reflection

In the spirit of Jesus’ words in Matthew 11: 28-30, for today’s reflection instead of reading something I have written, use these 10 minutes to sit with these words and listen for how God is calling you to embrace rest as a holy, life-giving practice.  —Becky+

Come to me,

all you that are weary

and are carrying heavy burdens,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you,

and learn from me;

for I am gentle

and humble in heart,

and you will find rest

for your souls.

For my yoke is easy,

and my burden is light.

—Jesus in Matthew 11: 28-30

Questions for Self-Reflection

When do you find it hard to stop what you are doing to rest? Have you ever felt guilty or self-conscious when you have made time for rest?

What would it look like if you carved out dedicated time to not do tasks or errands and not keep tabs on emails and texts?

How might your life feel different if you begin to make small adjustments that allow you to prioritize getting more sleep and more time to just be?

Daily Challenge

If you need more evidence (besides Jesus’ own words and habits) that rest is a good thing, read more from the Harvard Business Review and the Theology of Work Project.

The Return of the Prodigal - October 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; Jer. 44:1-14; 1 Cor. 15:30-41; Matt. 11:16-24

This past month, I have found myself returning to a book that has been meaningful at two other junctures in life.  In my Tuesday readings group, we are exploring Henri Nouwen’s The Return of the Prodigal Son.  It is a series of reflections based on Nouwen’s own life and his time at the Hermitage in St. Petersburg in reflection with Rembrandt’s painting based on the story of the Bible about the prodigal.  This is the story where the younger brother returns from a life of squandering away all that he had, and the older brother is upset in the father’s welcome and loving embrace (Luke 15:11-32). 

One of the gifts of Nouwen’s series of reflections is his ability to weave his life through each of the characters in the story and to help the reader reflect on their own place in the story at different points in their life.  He begins with the youngest son, the prodigal who squanders everything and returns home to this boundless grace of God’s compassionate love.  Some of the same words spoke an important truth into my life when I first read this book fifteen years ago today as those underlined words come to life again.  “Leaving home is not a historical event bound to time and place but a denial of spiritual reality that we belong to God with every part of our being.”   And we leave looking for affirmation, or justification to wander with a profound sense of loneliness.   This is the easiest metaphor in the book.

In the second part of the book, Nouwen moves to reflect on the older brother, the one who stayed back.  He aptly recognizes in words that strike me more today that the story is also about the leaving of the older son, that while he is still on the farm, is unable to root out his resentment, that has become too deeply anchored so that he has also left home.  The older son is standing outside of the circle of love, refusing to enter back into the gift of the father.

In the final section, Nouwen helps the reader to learn to embrace the father as a way of being and to see our own capacity to love, to celebrate, and enter the joy that God’s love has invited others into.  While a logical progression to make, it’s amazing how easy it is to see ourselves as the brothers and ignore our own agency to be the one who receives homecoming. 

When we selected this book for my Tuesday reading class, I was looking for a classic that might have broad appeal.  Maybe God’s hand was a little more intentional than my own random selection.  I wonder how much of this next chapter of pandemic will be focused on homecoming.  As we welcome others back into our lives, the risk of resentment, as warranted as it might feel, and an ignorance to see our capacity to receive others as the greatest gift that can be offered, the story of the prodigal can give us much to consider.   

I hear the story underneath Psalm 25, read this morning in Morning Prayer.  There is a beckoning call for God to lead us and teach us, and for us to remember god’s love and compassion that extend far beyond “the sins of my youth and my transgressions… for the sake of [God’s] goodness.  The shift that Nouwen’s reflection offers us, and by extension, into the reading of Psalm 25, is the movement of focus from God’s welcoming home, to see ourselves as the ones who can extend God’s same welcome to others.  Will others know God’s compassion and love as everlasting, if that is not practiced by us?  Maybe.  But we certainly don’t want to get in the way!

My hope over the next year is that we find ourselves in a place or welcoming people back into our lives with the same compassion that God extends each of us.   

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What stories of homecoming come to mind after today’s reflection?  What does post-pandemic homecoming mean to you? 

Daily Challenge:  Read the story of the Prodigal in Luke’s Gospel.  Name all of the places you see yourself in the story.  Consider where you want to see yourself in the story and what it would take to get there.

Seek first to understand – October 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14); PM Psalm 110:1-5(6-7), 116, 117
2 Kings 25:8-12,22-26; 1 Cor. 15:12-29; Matt. 11:7-15

As I was about to head to bed last night, I saw a headline about the British singer Adele’s new single released this week, ahead of her album “30” that is to come out in November. Adele is a talented artist whose stirring lyrics and vocals hit me to the core. Though my better half Sam was ready to turn in, he sat with me as we watched the video and listened to the song. It is called “Easy on Me”. Adele walks through a vacant house, gathers a suitcase, and heads to a car to leave a property with a real estate sign in the front yard that has a sold rider on the top of it. She begins to sing as she drives away, pleading for the listener to go easy on her in evaluating her choices.

The singer/songwriter explained in an interview her hope to share a window into understanding her choices in ending the marriage between herself and her now ex-husband. Though the split has brought pain and complexity to their nine-year-old son’s life, Adele said of her latest work, "I just felt like I wanted to explain to [my son], through this record, when he's in his twenties or thirties, who I am and why I voluntarily chose to dismantle his entire life in the pursuit of my own happiness.”

While her voice is like platinum and honey, Adele’s life experiences have not been plush or easy. Perhaps like many of our stories, life gets messy and muddled. It is easy to idealize one’s being in a snapshot for this year’s Christmas card, or in an Instagram story from a beach trip last weekend. Those frames in time do not always capture the layers of humanity at play. The frustration. The discord. The tears. The pain. Adele’s song “Easy on Me” is opening the door to understanding the reality of her life.

Perhaps Jesus was trying to help the crowd get a more true, more accurate concept of John the Baptist in Matthew 11. Jesus has been preparing his disciples, and now is teaching and preaching in the region of Galilee. John, while imprisoned, hears of the work Jesus is doing and sends his followers to inquire of Jesus, “Are you the Messiah, or do we need to look elsewhere?” The Son of God responds in the mostly-affirmative: the proof is in the pudding. Actually, Jesus says, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor…”

As John’s friends depart to give him an update, Jesus is talking to the crowd about John, who is a legend of his own. People flocked to the wilderness to behold this man who baptized people in the river. Jesus examines the hearts of the crowd, asking, “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind?...A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes…and more than a prophet.” (v. 7-9) Jesus is completing the picture for the crowd, giving them a lens for the truth of who John the Baptizer is, and what his role in the larger picture is: a soothsayer and visionary, the Elijah of his day ushering in the truth, preparing the way for Jesus.

Not everyone in the 1st century was ready to hear or understand that message. Some of us are slower to come around to grasping that truth today.

Let us go easy on one another as we welcome those who dare to share their truths. And, let us report the stories of healing and restoration around us, so that the truth of God’s redeeming love may shine in our hearts and spring from our lips.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What is a truth about yourself, or perhaps a change in your path, that others wrestled to understand? How did you communicate the story? Looking back, what would you keep the same, and what would you change?

Daily Challenge

Today, three martyrs from the early days of the Anglican Church are remembered. Take a few minutes to familiarize yourself with Hugh Latimer, Nicholas Ridley, and Thomas Cranmer, all put to death by Queen Mary – a staunch Roman Catholic – in 1556.