Saturday, April 15, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Holy Saturday
Psalm 27
Lamentations 3:37-58
Hebrews 4:1-16
Romans 8:1-11
This is the bleakest day of the church calendar. As we follow the story of Jesus's life, it's the only day with a whole twenty-four hours that Jesus is not with us. The Holy Saturday liturgy in the Book of Common Prayer reflects this: "There is no celebration of the Eucharist on this day," says the rubric. Can you imagine being one of the apostles or disciples? Generally, they were people of great faith, but what were they to think with the big stone covering the tomb entrance?
Lamentations captures the pain, as the writer howls to God in this wonderful image: "Thou has wrapped thyself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through." And worse, whose fault is it if God has turned away from us? "We have transgressed and rebelled, and thou hast not forgiven."
I find two possible responses for us in today's Old Testament readings (interestingly, this Daily Office does not provide a Gospel.):
One -- on the day Jesus descended to the dead -- is the message of the night of his birth: "Fear not." From Psalm 27: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?" From Lamentations: "Thou didst come near when I called on thee: thou didst say, 'Do not fear.'"
The other consolation for us is, for lack of a better expression, the presentness of God's presence. "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." "Thou has taken up my cause, O Lord, thou has redeemed my life."
The older I get, the more I believe the kingdom of God is about the here and now, that it's not something we experience after we die, but something more like a continuum that we can begin to sense and work for now.
One of the most-asked Easter questions remains why Jesus had to come back to us. Why didn't he just soar off and live at the right hand of God, and wait to greet us when we get there?
What today's Old Testament lessons are telling us, it seems to me, it that Jesus still had a role to play in the here and now. That the present is important. And so, on the evening before Easter, we read these words: "Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yea, wait for the Lord!"
Lamentations 3:37-58
Hebrews 4:1-16
Romans 8:1-11
This is the bleakest day of the church calendar. As we follow the story of Jesus's life, it's the only day with a whole twenty-four hours that Jesus is not with us. The Holy Saturday liturgy in the Book of Common Prayer reflects this: "There is no celebration of the Eucharist on this day," says the rubric. Can you imagine being one of the apostles or disciples? Generally, they were people of great faith, but what were they to think with the big stone covering the tomb entrance?
Lamentations captures the pain, as the writer howls to God in this wonderful image: "Thou has wrapped thyself with a cloud so that no prayer can pass through." And worse, whose fault is it if God has turned away from us? "We have transgressed and rebelled, and thou hast not forgiven."
I find two possible responses for us in today's Old Testament readings (interestingly, this Daily Office does not provide a Gospel.):
One -- on the day Jesus descended to the dead -- is the message of the night of his birth: "Fear not." From Psalm 27: "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?" From Lamentations: "Thou didst come near when I called on thee: thou didst say, 'Do not fear.'"
The other consolation for us is, for lack of a better expression, the presentness of God's presence. "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." "Thou has taken up my cause, O Lord, thou has redeemed my life."
The older I get, the more I believe the kingdom of God is about the here and now, that it's not something we experience after we die, but something more like a continuum that we can begin to sense and work for now.
One of the most-asked Easter questions remains why Jesus had to come back to us. Why didn't he just soar off and live at the right hand of God, and wait to greet us when we get there?
What today's Old Testament lessons are telling us, it seems to me, it that Jesus still had a role to play in the here and now. That the present is important. And so, on the evening before Easter, we read these words: "Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yea, wait for the Lord!"
Isabel Spencer
Friday, April 14, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Good Friday
Psalm 22:1-21
Genesis 22:1-18
John 18:1 - 19:37
I have been teaching Sunday School for over six years now and it never ceases to amaze me the wonderful insight that the children sometimes share with me when we discuss a bible story. Last October, when we returned to the classroom after the Children's Greeting, I reached for the copy of the children's bible I had marked with the story I was going to read and discuss with them that day. I had a small class, just two children. As I flipped through the pages, Judy Cope's son, Alex, asked if I would read to them the story of Jesus on the Cross. It was not what I had planned to teach that day, but I figured if the children are engaged enough to make a request, I should entertain it.
In this particular bible, there was a watercolor illustration of the Crucifixion, with the Roman centurions, the two men who were crucified with Jesus, and Jesus on the cross. As I told the story, I pointed out the different characters depicted. The comments and questions I received were wonderful. Both children pointed out that Jesus was bleeding in the picture, and rather than being fascinated by the gruesomeness, they were truly concerned. When I explained to them that there were nails in Jesus, they were very sad and talked about how horrible it would be to have to die that way.
Alex asked me, "Where is God in this picture?" Impressed and caught a little off guard by what seemed a simple question, but was quite profound, I did the usual thing I do -- I punted, and asked where they thought God was in the picture. We talked about how the crowd had mocked Jesus about how if he was the son of God, why he didn't save himself. We also talked about how there are times when we feel very lonely and sad in our lives, and we all might wonder where God is, and that Jesus suffered and also appeared very alone and vulnerable, especially in this illustration. I explained to the children that the question about where God is in Crucifixion is a great one, and that people could probably write entire books about the presence of God during Jesus' death.
One thing that particularly struck me during my conversation with the children was how affected the children were by the violence of crucifixion. When I thought about how desensitized children and adults can be to violence these days, I found a glimmer of hope that the story touched the children at all. At a time when I have personally noticed that filmmakers feel they need to depict a violent scenario more and more graphically, especially if they want to have the horror and pain really sink in to what is a more and more desensitized audience, it is reassuring to know that words and a more subtle description or illustration can hit the mark as well.
What is so wonderful about teaching Sunday School to the younger children, in my opinion, is that they hear a story, look at the images, and point out things and ask questions that, I think, we may take for granted as adults, or perhaps not even notice. The questions and insight I get from the children often bring me back to what would appear to be basic questions, but also might be difficult questions that we set aside to get to the problems and challenges that the stories present to us that make more sense to us or that are not so elusive.
As I attend a Good Friday service and/or do the readings this year, I know I'll be returning to some of the questions and comments that came up during this class that seem worth reflecting on. Where is God in this picture and in these readings? As we reflect on Jesus' death and the human suffering he endured, what meaning does that hold for us and where we look for God in our most difficult and painful moments? What this experience also revealed to me is to not take for granted, or leave unnoticed the questions that seem simple or whose possible answers seem too elusive or painful or challenging to explore.
Genesis 22:1-18
John 18:1 - 19:37
I have been teaching Sunday School for over six years now and it never ceases to amaze me the wonderful insight that the children sometimes share with me when we discuss a bible story. Last October, when we returned to the classroom after the Children's Greeting, I reached for the copy of the children's bible I had marked with the story I was going to read and discuss with them that day. I had a small class, just two children. As I flipped through the pages, Judy Cope's son, Alex, asked if I would read to them the story of Jesus on the Cross. It was not what I had planned to teach that day, but I figured if the children are engaged enough to make a request, I should entertain it.
In this particular bible, there was a watercolor illustration of the Crucifixion, with the Roman centurions, the two men who were crucified with Jesus, and Jesus on the cross. As I told the story, I pointed out the different characters depicted. The comments and questions I received were wonderful. Both children pointed out that Jesus was bleeding in the picture, and rather than being fascinated by the gruesomeness, they were truly concerned. When I explained to them that there were nails in Jesus, they were very sad and talked about how horrible it would be to have to die that way.
Alex asked me, "Where is God in this picture?" Impressed and caught a little off guard by what seemed a simple question, but was quite profound, I did the usual thing I do -- I punted, and asked where they thought God was in the picture. We talked about how the crowd had mocked Jesus about how if he was the son of God, why he didn't save himself. We also talked about how there are times when we feel very lonely and sad in our lives, and we all might wonder where God is, and that Jesus suffered and also appeared very alone and vulnerable, especially in this illustration. I explained to the children that the question about where God is in Crucifixion is a great one, and that people could probably write entire books about the presence of God during Jesus' death.
One thing that particularly struck me during my conversation with the children was how affected the children were by the violence of crucifixion. When I thought about how desensitized children and adults can be to violence these days, I found a glimmer of hope that the story touched the children at all. At a time when I have personally noticed that filmmakers feel they need to depict a violent scenario more and more graphically, especially if they want to have the horror and pain really sink in to what is a more and more desensitized audience, it is reassuring to know that words and a more subtle description or illustration can hit the mark as well.
What is so wonderful about teaching Sunday School to the younger children, in my opinion, is that they hear a story, look at the images, and point out things and ask questions that, I think, we may take for granted as adults, or perhaps not even notice. The questions and insight I get from the children often bring me back to what would appear to be basic questions, but also might be difficult questions that we set aside to get to the problems and challenges that the stories present to us that make more sense to us or that are not so elusive.
As I attend a Good Friday service and/or do the readings this year, I know I'll be returning to some of the questions and comments that came up during this class that seem worth reflecting on. Where is God in this picture and in these readings? As we reflect on Jesus' death and the human suffering he endured, what meaning does that hold for us and where we look for God in our most difficult and painful moments? What this experience also revealed to me is to not take for granted, or leave unnoticed the questions that seem simple or whose possible answers seem too elusive or painful or challenging to explore.
Jennifer Landis
Thursday, April 13, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Maundy Thursday
Psalm 78:14-20, 23-25
Exodus 12:1-14a
1 Corinthians 11:23-32
John 13:1-15
How many of us could live without our stories, whether they are about our family or our place of birth, or some hardship experienced? And how many of these stories elicit difficult questions for us? Why was my family that way, what does it mean to be from the place where I was born or how did I learn to live with that experience?
The Torah scholar, Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, suggests that the event of the Passover in Exodus happened so that the Jewish people would have a story to retell (see verse 14, "This day shall be a day of remembrance for you") and not the other way around (i.e., they have a story to tell because of the events that occurred). And it is a terribly disturbing story, full of fear of Egypt and fear of God. And yet it is this story with all its complexity that Israel is instructed to remember, to celebrate and to make of a perpetual ordinance. And Jewish ritual around these events to this very day includes the provoking of questions. "Why the bitter herbs on the Seder table? "They are symbolic of the bitterness of slavery." Or the wonderful, "Why is this night different than all other nights?" It is a reminder to us that Scripture is not just given as some sort of rulebook providing us with readymade answers, but is full of immense and often disturbing stories of people's experience with God.
Paul's letter to the Corinthians gives us one of the earliest accounts of the Last Supper. And verses 27-32 provide a slightly unsettling coda to this account, e.g., "For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves." If you read it quickly, you don't quite know whose "body" Paul is talking about. Are we supposed to discern the "body of Christ" present in the Eucharist? Or are we to discern our "own bodies" and how we make use of them? Or is it more a question of knowing our (un-)worthiness to receive the body of Christ? And how exactly does communion become a "judgment against oneself"? These are demanding questions not only for those to whom Paul was writing, but also for us who read it today.
In the passage from the Gospel of John, we are given the wonderfully intimate story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. And after Jesus has acted, he asks them a question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" This is such a seemingly innocent but also frightening question. I still wonder if we, like Peter, do not know what Jesus was doing in this story. And yet, hundreds of years later, we continue to reenact these very things -- washing of the feet, celebrating the breaking of bread -- precisely because Jesus asks this of us: "For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you." And as with a friend or lover, the asking is reason enough.
Exodus 12:1-14a
1 Corinthians 11:23-32
John 13:1-15
How many of us could live without our stories, whether they are about our family or our place of birth, or some hardship experienced? And how many of these stories elicit difficult questions for us? Why was my family that way, what does it mean to be from the place where I was born or how did I learn to live with that experience?
The Torah scholar, Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg, suggests that the event of the Passover in Exodus happened so that the Jewish people would have a story to retell (see verse 14, "This day shall be a day of remembrance for you") and not the other way around (i.e., they have a story to tell because of the events that occurred). And it is a terribly disturbing story, full of fear of Egypt and fear of God. And yet it is this story with all its complexity that Israel is instructed to remember, to celebrate and to make of a perpetual ordinance. And Jewish ritual around these events to this very day includes the provoking of questions. "Why the bitter herbs on the Seder table? "They are symbolic of the bitterness of slavery." Or the wonderful, "Why is this night different than all other nights?" It is a reminder to us that Scripture is not just given as some sort of rulebook providing us with readymade answers, but is full of immense and often disturbing stories of people's experience with God.
Paul's letter to the Corinthians gives us one of the earliest accounts of the Last Supper. And verses 27-32 provide a slightly unsettling coda to this account, e.g., "For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves." If you read it quickly, you don't quite know whose "body" Paul is talking about. Are we supposed to discern the "body of Christ" present in the Eucharist? Or are we to discern our "own bodies" and how we make use of them? Or is it more a question of knowing our (un-)worthiness to receive the body of Christ? And how exactly does communion become a "judgment against oneself"? These are demanding questions not only for those to whom Paul was writing, but also for us who read it today.
In the passage from the Gospel of John, we are given the wonderfully intimate story of Jesus washing the feet of his disciples. And after Jesus has acted, he asks them a question: "Do you know what I have done to you?" This is such a seemingly innocent but also frightening question. I still wonder if we, like Peter, do not know what Jesus was doing in this story. And yet, hundreds of years later, we continue to reenact these very things -- washing of the feet, celebrating the breaking of bread -- precisely because Jesus asks this of us: "For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you." And as with a friend or lover, the asking is reason enough.
Stephen Hagerty
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Wednesday in Holy Week
Psalm 69:7-15, 22-23
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Hebrews 9:11-15, 24-28
John 13:21-35
I cry easily -- not great sobbing, but tears come to my eyes. It can happen at times of tragedy, cruelty to animals, someone doing something wonderful for another, a great piece of music, someone winning an award. When I first read the readings for today, tears came to my eyes while reading the passage from Hebrews. This was quite spontaneous, and I put a lot of trust in spontaneity as a true mirror into one's feelings. Clearly, the passage was very moving and as a result this reflection is only about Hebrews (there doesn't seem to be an edict against this).
The book of Hebrews is so platonic in this section. There's the Holy of Holies that the priest enters once a year on Yom Kippur (I think), a shadow of the greater and perfect tent in heaven. There's the flesh of goats and heifers for sacrifice and there is Jesus in the flesh on the cross. Then there is the blood of those animals, a dim shadow of the blood of Christ. The sacrifice of those animals is so powerfully contrasted with the sacrifice of our Lord. It's not a sacrifice like the high priests did year after year, but a great, loving sacrifice of the real blood that brings eternal redemption. It's not again and again, but once and for a much greater sanctification.
Christ's love, this great sacrifice for us, is why tears came to my eyes. It is so wonderful that God so loved us that he did this for us. Sometimes the thought of this love is overwhelming.
In a few days we will commemorate this sacrifice, and I will probably cry as I always do, thinking of the sufferings of Christ. But, as a friend reminded me last year, the day is called Good Friday, not Bad Friday. Maybe I will be able to reflect instead on the great love shown by Jesus on that day.
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Hebrews 9:11-15, 24-28
John 13:21-35
I cry easily -- not great sobbing, but tears come to my eyes. It can happen at times of tragedy, cruelty to animals, someone doing something wonderful for another, a great piece of music, someone winning an award. When I first read the readings for today, tears came to my eyes while reading the passage from Hebrews. This was quite spontaneous, and I put a lot of trust in spontaneity as a true mirror into one's feelings. Clearly, the passage was very moving and as a result this reflection is only about Hebrews (there doesn't seem to be an edict against this).
The book of Hebrews is so platonic in this section. There's the Holy of Holies that the priest enters once a year on Yom Kippur (I think), a shadow of the greater and perfect tent in heaven. There's the flesh of goats and heifers for sacrifice and there is Jesus in the flesh on the cross. Then there is the blood of those animals, a dim shadow of the blood of Christ. The sacrifice of those animals is so powerfully contrasted with the sacrifice of our Lord. It's not a sacrifice like the high priests did year after year, but a great, loving sacrifice of the real blood that brings eternal redemption. It's not again and again, but once and for a much greater sanctification.
Christ's love, this great sacrifice for us, is why tears came to my eyes. It is so wonderful that God so loved us that he did this for us. Sometimes the thought of this love is overwhelming.
In a few days we will commemorate this sacrifice, and I will probably cry as I always do, thinking of the sufferings of Christ. But, as a friend reminded me last year, the day is called Good Friday, not Bad Friday. Maybe I will be able to reflect instead on the great love shown by Jesus on that day.
Ted Kneisler
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Tuesday in Holy Week
Psalm 71:1-12
Isaiah 49:1-6
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 12:37-38, 42-50
The main themes for today's readings are trust and belief in God.
Psalm 71:1-12 -- The psalmist is an elderly man who pleads with God to rescue him from his enemies. He states that all during his life God has never failed him and is still his refuge and strength. Now that he has reached old age he is not able to defend himself against violent foes. He pleads that God be not far from him and to come quickly to his aid.
Isaiah 49:1-6 -- This reading is known as The Second Servant Song. The Servant is Israel who is to bring God's message and restore justice to the nations. By serving God Israel will be glorified. Though his ministry seems futile his trust is in God who says he will make him a light to the nations so that God's salvation will reach to the end of the earth.
I Corinthians 1:18-31 -- Paul's message is that the gospel as preached by Christ Jesus is to be accepted and believed. He tells us that the saved are not the wise, or the powerful, or the noble, but those who believe in the risen Christ.
John 12:37-38 & 42-50 -- This portion of John's gospel deals with the conclusion of Jesus' public ministry and the refusal of the people to believe in him. Jesus addresses the spiritual blindness of the people and tells them that those who believe in Him believe not in Him but in God. He also states that he doesn't speak on his own authority but on God's who has told him what to say and speak.
As we conclude our Lenten journey may our trust and belief in God have been strengthened.
Isaiah 49:1-6
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 12:37-38, 42-50
The main themes for today's readings are trust and belief in God.
Psalm 71:1-12 -- The psalmist is an elderly man who pleads with God to rescue him from his enemies. He states that all during his life God has never failed him and is still his refuge and strength. Now that he has reached old age he is not able to defend himself against violent foes. He pleads that God be not far from him and to come quickly to his aid.
Isaiah 49:1-6 -- This reading is known as The Second Servant Song. The Servant is Israel who is to bring God's message and restore justice to the nations. By serving God Israel will be glorified. Though his ministry seems futile his trust is in God who says he will make him a light to the nations so that God's salvation will reach to the end of the earth.
I Corinthians 1:18-31 -- Paul's message is that the gospel as preached by Christ Jesus is to be accepted and believed. He tells us that the saved are not the wise, or the powerful, or the noble, but those who believe in the risen Christ.
John 12:37-38 & 42-50 -- This portion of John's gospel deals with the conclusion of Jesus' public ministry and the refusal of the people to believe in him. Jesus addresses the spiritual blindness of the people and tells them that those who believe in Him believe not in Him but in God. He also states that he doesn't speak on his own authority but on God's who has told him what to say and speak.
As we conclude our Lenten journey may our trust and belief in God have been strengthened.
Lillie Burkhardt
Monday, April 10, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Monday in Holy Week
Psalm 36:5-10
Isaiah 42:1-9
Hebrews 11:39 - 12:3
John 12:1-11
The Head Start Web site states that "continuity of care provides the time and intimacy babies need to learn about themselves and form meaningful relationships." We may not wish to consider ourselves infants, but all of us truly are children of God. No matter how sophisticated we become in our own estimation, the continuity of the love God provides gives our existence true definition and meaning. It is the primary relationship of our lives, superceding all of our family ties and friendships, and even the great loves that we may sometimes experience. "How priceless is your unfailing love!" the Psalmist declares. That constant, irreplaceable love of God must inform how we know ourselves and live our lives.
Our reaction to that loving influence is variable, from moment to moment, throughout our lives. In the raising of her brother, Lazarus, Mary experienced the full abundance of Christ's continuing love, in this instance literally reaching to the heavens. She is extravagant in returning that love toward Christ, throwing caution and decorum to the wind. Her love is sensual and sacrificial, an uneasy mixture for those witnessing it firsthand and for modern day readers alike. Her example shines with the reflected light of Christ's risen and redeeming visage, and too often we look away rather than view and comprehend such manifestations.
The continuity of God's love helps us deepen this most meaningful relationship of our lives, and we live as one of the great cloud of witnesses to the world of humanity around us. Our response may never reach the heights evidenced by Mary, but despite the quantity or quality of our efforts, God is ever with us. It often is through our acts of simple service and fellowship that Christ is most in evidence, spreading God's kingdom through the gentle breeze rather than the windstorm.
My mother called recently to tell me that the last of the three grande dames of my childhood church choir had died. I remember listening to Ida, Laverne and Rosalie boldly holding forth on the soprano line. There was no greater thrill than when my boy soprano joined with their voices on festival Sundays. It was sad personal news for me but also a gentle reminder of my own mortality. Days later, I happened upon a recording of the Westminster Choir performing Peter Lutkin's "The Lord Bless You and Keep You," and I was instantly transported back to my childhood, laying quietly on a pew and listening to that same choir close with this beautiful choral benediction, as they did every rehearsal. It was another gentle reminder that God always has and ever will "make his face to shine upon" me, even to that day when my voice will join the chorus of angels in an eternal hymn of praise and thanksgiving.
Isaiah 42:1-9
Hebrews 11:39 - 12:3
John 12:1-11
The Head Start Web site states that "continuity of care provides the time and intimacy babies need to learn about themselves and form meaningful relationships." We may not wish to consider ourselves infants, but all of us truly are children of God. No matter how sophisticated we become in our own estimation, the continuity of the love God provides gives our existence true definition and meaning. It is the primary relationship of our lives, superceding all of our family ties and friendships, and even the great loves that we may sometimes experience. "How priceless is your unfailing love!" the Psalmist declares. That constant, irreplaceable love of God must inform how we know ourselves and live our lives.
Our reaction to that loving influence is variable, from moment to moment, throughout our lives. In the raising of her brother, Lazarus, Mary experienced the full abundance of Christ's continuing love, in this instance literally reaching to the heavens. She is extravagant in returning that love toward Christ, throwing caution and decorum to the wind. Her love is sensual and sacrificial, an uneasy mixture for those witnessing it firsthand and for modern day readers alike. Her example shines with the reflected light of Christ's risen and redeeming visage, and too often we look away rather than view and comprehend such manifestations.
The continuity of God's love helps us deepen this most meaningful relationship of our lives, and we live as one of the great cloud of witnesses to the world of humanity around us. Our response may never reach the heights evidenced by Mary, but despite the quantity or quality of our efforts, God is ever with us. It often is through our acts of simple service and fellowship that Christ is most in evidence, spreading God's kingdom through the gentle breeze rather than the windstorm.
My mother called recently to tell me that the last of the three grande dames of my childhood church choir had died. I remember listening to Ida, Laverne and Rosalie boldly holding forth on the soprano line. There was no greater thrill than when my boy soprano joined with their voices on festival Sundays. It was sad personal news for me but also a gentle reminder of my own mortality. Days later, I happened upon a recording of the Westminster Choir performing Peter Lutkin's "The Lord Bless You and Keep You," and I was instantly transported back to my childhood, laying quietly on a pew and listening to that same choir close with this beautiful choral benediction, as they did every rehearsal. It was another gentle reminder that God always has and ever will "make his face to shine upon" me, even to that day when my voice will join the chorus of angels in an eternal hymn of praise and thanksgiving.
David Cholcher
Saturday, April 08, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Saturday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 42, 43
Exodus 10:21 - 11:8
2 Corinthians 4:13-18
Mark 10:46-52
I have begun writing this devotional just as dusk is beginning to fall at the end of a winter's day. The grey clouds are beginning to darken and the light of the sun is waning. I know if I get up and turn on the light switch, there will be bright 21st century light to help me get through the growing darkness. Now what does this have to do with the Lent or the readings?
The reading from Exodus tells us the story of the last two plagues. The 9th plague, that of darkness, is caused, as all the others are, by Pharaoh's stubbornness. He rejects his role in God's plan for humanity. He is literally blind to God's will. Following this same visual theme, we find Bartimaeus, a poor blind man from Jericho. He, however, although physically blind, sees God's plan better than most. He calls out to Jesus. Although the disciples demand that he be silent, he doesn't listen, and continues his quest. What is the result? Jesus cures his blindness.
Light and sight are both themes in Corinthians. "What we aim for is not visible, but invisible." Visible things are transitory, but invisible things eternal.
God wants for us to turn on the light switch, call out for help, and not take no for an answer. The great lover of mankind wants us to open our eyes to God's love and to receive it with a thankful heart. God wants us to be proactive in seeking the divine presence, as was Bartimaeus.
Yes, I have now turned on the light switch. I can see what the psalmist was praying: "Send out your light and your truth: they shall be my guide, to lead me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell." May God help us overcome the darkness to find his love.
Exodus 10:21 - 11:8
2 Corinthians 4:13-18
Mark 10:46-52
I have begun writing this devotional just as dusk is beginning to fall at the end of a winter's day. The grey clouds are beginning to darken and the light of the sun is waning. I know if I get up and turn on the light switch, there will be bright 21st century light to help me get through the growing darkness. Now what does this have to do with the Lent or the readings?
The reading from Exodus tells us the story of the last two plagues. The 9th plague, that of darkness, is caused, as all the others are, by Pharaoh's stubbornness. He rejects his role in God's plan for humanity. He is literally blind to God's will. Following this same visual theme, we find Bartimaeus, a poor blind man from Jericho. He, however, although physically blind, sees God's plan better than most. He calls out to Jesus. Although the disciples demand that he be silent, he doesn't listen, and continues his quest. What is the result? Jesus cures his blindness.
Light and sight are both themes in Corinthians. "What we aim for is not visible, but invisible." Visible things are transitory, but invisible things eternal.
God wants for us to turn on the light switch, call out for help, and not take no for an answer. The great lover of mankind wants us to open our eyes to God's love and to receive it with a thankful heart. God wants us to be proactive in seeking the divine presence, as was Bartimaeus.
Yes, I have now turned on the light switch. I can see what the psalmist was praying: "Send out your light and your truth: they shall be my guide, to lead me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell." May God help us overcome the darkness to find his love.
Jeffrey Truglia
Friday, April 07, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Friday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 141, 143:1-12
2 Corinthians 4:1-12
Mark 10:32-45
Whenever I hear or read today's passage from Mark where James and John ask to sit with Christ in his glory, my immediate reaction is amazement. I'm amazed at their fearlessness and confidence in requesting so lofty and, seemingly, unattainable an ambition. It almost takes my breath away that they so firmly believe they have what it takes to hold positions of special dignity along side the Son of God that they would ask Christ to grant them this wish. If I had a time machine and could transport myself to that very time and spot, I'd be the quiet one thinking that I'm but a mere mortal and, therefore, too weak and flawed to even entertain such a goal but I would be wrong.
Fear that comes from the lack of self confidence and/or self love is a destructive emotion. It can rob us of joy, of abundance in our lives, of connecting to our talents and intellect; none of which is God's plan for us. How many of us have succumbed from time to time to our fears of not having the right stuff; not having enough education, talent, social standing, money, looks, experience, etc., thus, detouring us from asking for what we want, taking that chance, "following our bliss." James and John certainly didn't suffer from this affliction and if any doubts existed they weren't apparent. These men were bold enough to ask for what they wanted and while Christ's response wasn't exactly what they were hoping to hear, from that day forward they steered the course of their lives in the direction of their choosing, the course God intended.
Carpe diem (seize the day), how I love that saying, it's filled with so much energy, possibility and inspiration. As I look at it, I realize it doesn't say seize the week or the year or the next five years but the day, one day, a day at a time. If I think about overcoming my fears and self doubt a minute at a time, an hour at a time, a day at a time it seems so much more manageable, and how wonderful to have more power over the direction my life's journey is taking and knowing that in small steps I'm moving closer to being the person God has always intended me to be. Margaret Sanger said it very well I think: "Some lives drift here and there like the reeds in a stream, depending on changing currents for their activity. Others are like swimmers knowing the depth of the water. Each stroke helps them onward to a definite objective."
I know nothing about how James and John were martyred, some prolonged, excruciatingly painful form of execution no doubt but while they lived, they LIVED. They were ready to drink from the same cup as Christ and live in God's ways because they were confident they could and brave enough to accept the consequences. I'm sure they accepted death as all the martyrs did content and at peace, not only, because they would be joined with Christ in his glory, but also, because they'd lived the good life on their terms with no regrets.
2 Corinthians 4:1-12
Mark 10:32-45
Whenever I hear or read today's passage from Mark where James and John ask to sit with Christ in his glory, my immediate reaction is amazement. I'm amazed at their fearlessness and confidence in requesting so lofty and, seemingly, unattainable an ambition. It almost takes my breath away that they so firmly believe they have what it takes to hold positions of special dignity along side the Son of God that they would ask Christ to grant them this wish. If I had a time machine and could transport myself to that very time and spot, I'd be the quiet one thinking that I'm but a mere mortal and, therefore, too weak and flawed to even entertain such a goal but I would be wrong.
Fear that comes from the lack of self confidence and/or self love is a destructive emotion. It can rob us of joy, of abundance in our lives, of connecting to our talents and intellect; none of which is God's plan for us. How many of us have succumbed from time to time to our fears of not having the right stuff; not having enough education, talent, social standing, money, looks, experience, etc., thus, detouring us from asking for what we want, taking that chance, "following our bliss." James and John certainly didn't suffer from this affliction and if any doubts existed they weren't apparent. These men were bold enough to ask for what they wanted and while Christ's response wasn't exactly what they were hoping to hear, from that day forward they steered the course of their lives in the direction of their choosing, the course God intended.
Carpe diem (seize the day), how I love that saying, it's filled with so much energy, possibility and inspiration. As I look at it, I realize it doesn't say seize the week or the year or the next five years but the day, one day, a day at a time. If I think about overcoming my fears and self doubt a minute at a time, an hour at a time, a day at a time it seems so much more manageable, and how wonderful to have more power over the direction my life's journey is taking and knowing that in small steps I'm moving closer to being the person God has always intended me to be. Margaret Sanger said it very well I think: "Some lives drift here and there like the reeds in a stream, depending on changing currents for their activity. Others are like swimmers knowing the depth of the water. Each stroke helps them onward to a definite objective."
I know nothing about how James and John were martyred, some prolonged, excruciatingly painful form of execution no doubt but while they lived, they LIVED. They were ready to drink from the same cup as Christ and live in God's ways because they were confident they could and brave enough to accept the consequences. I'm sure they accepted death as all the martyrs did content and at peace, not only, because they would be joined with Christ in his glory, but also, because they'd lived the good life on their terms with no regrets.
Candace Lombardi
Thursday, April 06, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Thursday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 140, 142
Exodus 7:25 - 8:19
2 Corinthians 3:7-18
Mark 10:17-31
The "rich young ruler," as we used to call him, fails at first to engage Jesus' whole attention. In fact, Jesus brushes him off, quibbling about who should be called good and reciting the Commandments as a standard recipe for salvation. But then something, perhaps the young man's sincerity, catches him, and he really sees the youth for the first time in their exchange. "Looking at him" leads directly to loving him, so that he honors him with a version of his own "new commandment." "Go, sell what you have and give the money to the poor" could easily be construed as "go and love others as I have loved you." This instruction to the young man makes one thing very clear: that to love as Jesus loves involves sacrifice, a giving up of what we treasure out of compassion for the other. But as this encounter also demonstrates, we do not love in that dangerous way until we see the other, as Jesus saw and so loved the youth, who he must have known would fail the hard test he had set him.
When we allow ourselves truly to see another, we put ourselves at risk. I could only defend myself when accosted by swarms of beggars in Varanasi, India, by not meeting their eyes. When I did I was immediately drawn into an abyss of compassion and suffering.
Simone Weil helps me to understand this: "To desire the existence of the other is to transport oneself into them by sympathy and as a result to have a share in the inert matter that is theirs." This clearly refers to the Incarnation undergone by Christ, but points also to the incarnations required of us if we are to attempt to love as God loves. We must be prepared for sacrifices when we truly will the good of the other, when we open ourselves to look at them and care enough to experience their state of being. The young man was not yet ready to open himself in this way. I ask myself how often I avoid the "eye contact" that leads to such love and sacrifice -- and to Love.
Exodus 7:25 - 8:19
2 Corinthians 3:7-18
Mark 10:17-31
"Jesus, looking at him, loved him."
The "rich young ruler," as we used to call him, fails at first to engage Jesus' whole attention. In fact, Jesus brushes him off, quibbling about who should be called good and reciting the Commandments as a standard recipe for salvation. But then something, perhaps the young man's sincerity, catches him, and he really sees the youth for the first time in their exchange. "Looking at him" leads directly to loving him, so that he honors him with a version of his own "new commandment." "Go, sell what you have and give the money to the poor" could easily be construed as "go and love others as I have loved you." This instruction to the young man makes one thing very clear: that to love as Jesus loves involves sacrifice, a giving up of what we treasure out of compassion for the other. But as this encounter also demonstrates, we do not love in that dangerous way until we see the other, as Jesus saw and so loved the youth, who he must have known would fail the hard test he had set him.
When we allow ourselves truly to see another, we put ourselves at risk. I could only defend myself when accosted by swarms of beggars in Varanasi, India, by not meeting their eyes. When I did I was immediately drawn into an abyss of compassion and suffering.
Simone Weil helps me to understand this: "To desire the existence of the other is to transport oneself into them by sympathy and as a result to have a share in the inert matter that is theirs." This clearly refers to the Incarnation undergone by Christ, but points also to the incarnations required of us if we are to attempt to love as God loves. We must be prepared for sacrifices when we truly will the good of the other, when we open ourselves to look at them and care enough to experience their state of being. The young man was not yet ready to open himself in this way. I ask myself how often I avoid the "eye contact" that leads to such love and sacrifice -- and to Love.
Linda Julian
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Wednesday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 128, 129, 130
Exodus 7:8-24
2 Corinthians 2:14 - 3:6
Mark 10:1-16
Theme: Hostility versus Faith in the equality of us all. Faith ultimately seizes the day. Peace.
In the Exodus excerpt, God faces off against Pharaoh, through his agents Moses and Aaron. Moses urges: my people are your equals, not your slaves: let them go.
In Mark, it's Jesus versus the Pharisees. Jesus proclaims the equality of male and female. In marriage, "the two shall become one; so they are no longer two but one." Then, he admonishes the Disciples for shooing away the kids -- who were regarded by that society as the lowest among non-equals.
No one has the right to "lord" it over anyone else. We assume the disciples took on this Faith; and eventually societies began to pay attention to children's rights.
The Pharisees and Pharaoh probably never got the message...but where are they now??
St Paul was beset by hostility, whether from Romans or from Christian communities carping over details, much as we still do. The notion, raised by some Corinthians, that Paul should present "letters of recommendation" is bizarre. He soothes them with loving word-play, redirecting them to their own faith in God, to whom we are all equal and "commendable."
When our Faith in the value and equality of everyone routs Hostility, the result must be ....Peace! That Peace is so evanescent and hard for us to achieve, it "passeth understanding." We catch sight of it "through a glass, darkly." Christ lived and died "to leave it with" us; but the World still doesn't get it, to our peril.
Thank God, we do get glimpses; A driver in St Lucia bewails the turbulence and animosity he sees among people (even there); particularly among the young, "all the shouting and abuse." He told a story about a older married couple. The woman set a pot of tea on the doorstep, to stay warm in the sun. Her husband came home from work, and kicked it over (natch!). The woman: "Oh, it's my fault, leaving it in the passageway." The man: "No, it's my fault for not looking where I was going! I'll go get water to make more tea."
O Wow! No fight...respect for equality...lovely Peace.
Amen.
Exodus 7:8-24
2 Corinthians 2:14 - 3:6
Mark 10:1-16
Theme: Hostility versus Faith in the equality of us all. Faith ultimately seizes the day. Peace.
In the Exodus excerpt, God faces off against Pharaoh, through his agents Moses and Aaron. Moses urges: my people are your equals, not your slaves: let them go.
In Mark, it's Jesus versus the Pharisees. Jesus proclaims the equality of male and female. In marriage, "the two shall become one; so they are no longer two but one." Then, he admonishes the Disciples for shooing away the kids -- who were regarded by that society as the lowest among non-equals.
No one has the right to "lord" it over anyone else. We assume the disciples took on this Faith; and eventually societies began to pay attention to children's rights.
The Pharisees and Pharaoh probably never got the message...but where are they now??
St Paul was beset by hostility, whether from Romans or from Christian communities carping over details, much as we still do. The notion, raised by some Corinthians, that Paul should present "letters of recommendation" is bizarre. He soothes them with loving word-play, redirecting them to their own faith in God, to whom we are all equal and "commendable."
When our Faith in the value and equality of everyone routs Hostility, the result must be ....Peace! That Peace is so evanescent and hard for us to achieve, it "passeth understanding." We catch sight of it "through a glass, darkly." Christ lived and died "to leave it with" us; but the World still doesn't get it, to our peril.
Thank God, we do get glimpses; A driver in St Lucia bewails the turbulence and animosity he sees among people (even there); particularly among the young, "all the shouting and abuse." He told a story about a older married couple. The woman set a pot of tea on the doorstep, to stay warm in the sun. Her husband came home from work, and kicked it over (natch!). The woman: "Oh, it's my fault, leaving it in the passageway." The man: "No, it's my fault for not looking where I was going! I'll go get water to make more tea."
O Wow! No fight...respect for equality...lovely Peace.
Amen.
Gretchen Dumler
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Tuesday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 124, 125, 126
Exodus 5:1 - 6:1
1 Corinthians 14:20-33a, 39-40
Mark 9:42-50
I was grateful to have been asked to create a Lenten devotional this year. I always find it enlightening to search the texts -- both Old and New Testaments and the Psalter -- for a theme or thread that might guide me in my journey to follow Christ's example. I pray that some of you might actually find my search helpful as well.
From the texts for today -- April 4th, 2006 -- I have found that the lessons from both the New Testament and the Psalter are helpful in answering Pharaoh's question from Exodus 5. He asks: Who is the Lord that I should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go. I think one of our goals as Christians is to try each day to know the Lord better and to love Him more deeply in this new knowledge. Psalm 124 states clearly: Our help standeth in the Name of the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth. Paul tells us in I Corinthians 15: For God is not the author of confusion but of peace. In the Gospel according to Mark, chapter 9, it is said: And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged around his neck, and he were cast into the sea.
Each passage gives Pharaoh -- and each of us -- great insight into who God, the Father Almighty in whom we affirm to believe each Sunday, is: He is our Creator; it is He that has made us and not we ourselves. He is the source of our strength and of the peace that passeth all understanding. And He expects us to approach Him with the heart and mind of a child, with complete love and faith. Let us continue our journey today and throughout Lent toward a fuller understanding of the God who loves us and asks only that we seek to love Him and our neighbor in return. Thanks be to God!
Exodus 5:1 - 6:1
1 Corinthians 14:20-33a, 39-40
Mark 9:42-50
I was grateful to have been asked to create a Lenten devotional this year. I always find it enlightening to search the texts -- both Old and New Testaments and the Psalter -- for a theme or thread that might guide me in my journey to follow Christ's example. I pray that some of you might actually find my search helpful as well.
From the texts for today -- April 4th, 2006 -- I have found that the lessons from both the New Testament and the Psalter are helpful in answering Pharaoh's question from Exodus 5. He asks: Who is the Lord that I should obey his voice to let Israel go? I know not the Lord, neither will I let Israel go. I think one of our goals as Christians is to try each day to know the Lord better and to love Him more deeply in this new knowledge. Psalm 124 states clearly: Our help standeth in the Name of the Lord, who hath made heaven and earth. Paul tells us in I Corinthians 15: For God is not the author of confusion but of peace. In the Gospel according to Mark, chapter 9, it is said: And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged around his neck, and he were cast into the sea.
Each passage gives Pharaoh -- and each of us -- great insight into who God, the Father Almighty in whom we affirm to believe each Sunday, is: He is our Creator; it is He that has made us and not we ourselves. He is the source of our strength and of the peace that passeth all understanding. And He expects us to approach Him with the heart and mind of a child, with complete love and faith. Let us continue our journey today and throughout Lent toward a fuller understanding of the God who loves us and asks only that we seek to love Him and our neighbor in return. Thanks be to God!
David Lehmann
Monday, April 03, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Monday in the Fifth Week of Lent
Psalm 35
Exodus 4:10-31
1 Corinthians 14:1-19
Mark 9:30-41
God asks Moses to be his Ambassador, a great honor, but Moses wants none of it! He does not see in himself what God sees! So he tries to beg off.
I know what Moses is feeling! I want to stay comfortable and safe too, to avoid sweating and straining and struggling. To stay with what I know, even when I know I'm bigger than that, and the world is bigger than that. I want to shrink from challenges too big and risky, to shrink from the unknown. It's hard to have faith in one's gifts when the world says, "not good enough."
Lord, grant that I may see myself as your creation, and live up to your promise, a spark of divine life.
Exodus 4:10-31
1 Corinthians 14:1-19
Mark 9:30-41
"O Lord, please send someone else"
God asks Moses to be his Ambassador, a great honor, but Moses wants none of it! He does not see in himself what God sees! So he tries to beg off.
I know what Moses is feeling! I want to stay comfortable and safe too, to avoid sweating and straining and struggling. To stay with what I know, even when I know I'm bigger than that, and the world is bigger than that. I want to shrink from challenges too big and risky, to shrink from the unknown. It's hard to have faith in one's gifts when the world says, "not good enough."
Lord, grant that I may see myself as your creation, and live up to your promise, a spark of divine life.
MKR
Saturday, April 01, 2006
From AscensionNYC
Saturday in the Fourth Week of Lent
Psalm 33
Exodus 2:23 - 3:15
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Mark 9:14-29
In the candlelit church, every seat was filled for the Easter Vigil. After a dramatic reading of the Passover story, the congregation stood to sing Hymn 648, which is the spiritual Go Down, Moses. It's a hymn that people seem to know either well or not at all, but it's easy to pick up, especially the response at the end of each line, "let my people go." By the last stanza, that church was rocking, at least to the extent that any Episcopal parish is capable of such a thing. A hymn after a lesson is not supposed to be the highlight of the Great Vigil, but for me that year, I think that it was.
The liberation from Egypt resonates at so many levels, but we're not there yet. We are still near the beginning of the hymn: "The Lord told Moses what to do...tell old Pharaoh to let my people go." When I am having trouble discerning God's voice and how to get from where I am to where I should be (and it happens often), I think that it would be great if God's call in our lives were as clear as the call from the burning bush. God not only told Moses what to do and how to do it, but just in case there was any doubt, he made very clear that, yes, this really was God speaking. God was even visible: Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God.
While I have never had a burning bush experience, there have been many times when God's presence has been palpable, manifested in many ways. I usually realize it after the fact; like Jacob, I have said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it. My prayer is that the Spirit will give me an open mind and an open heart to discern God's call.
Exodus 2:23 - 3:15
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Mark 9:14-29
In the candlelit church, every seat was filled for the Easter Vigil. After a dramatic reading of the Passover story, the congregation stood to sing Hymn 648, which is the spiritual Go Down, Moses. It's a hymn that people seem to know either well or not at all, but it's easy to pick up, especially the response at the end of each line, "let my people go." By the last stanza, that church was rocking, at least to the extent that any Episcopal parish is capable of such a thing. A hymn after a lesson is not supposed to be the highlight of the Great Vigil, but for me that year, I think that it was.
The liberation from Egypt resonates at so many levels, but we're not there yet. We are still near the beginning of the hymn: "The Lord told Moses what to do...tell old Pharaoh to let my people go." When I am having trouble discerning God's voice and how to get from where I am to where I should be (and it happens often), I think that it would be great if God's call in our lives were as clear as the call from the burning bush. God not only told Moses what to do and how to do it, but just in case there was any doubt, he made very clear that, yes, this really was God speaking. God was even visible: Moses hid his face because he was afraid to look at God.
While I have never had a burning bush experience, there have been many times when God's presence has been palpable, manifested in many ways. I usually realize it after the fact; like Jacob, I have said, Surely the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it. My prayer is that the Spirit will give me an open mind and an open heart to discern God's call.
Walter Killmer
