The Church
of the Ascension

Fifth Avenue at Tenth Street
New York City, New York

Mailing address:
12 W. 11th St
New York, NY 10011

v: 212-254-8620
f: 212-254-6520

Worship schedule
Sundays: 9am, 11am
Monday–Friday: 6pm


The Church of the Ascension in the City of New York



Wednesday, February 28, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Wednesday in the First Week of Lent

Psalm 51:11-18
Jonah 3:1-10
Luke 11:29-32

To read Jonah is to understand the workings of mercy among people — that God's love and concern is for all people. Anyone willing to repent and turn to God can find salvation. As an addict I became imprisoned by an ever-shrinking world that was finally reduced to my apartment, certain unhealthy Internet sites, the ATM machine, the drug-dealer's apartment, and the all-night Duane-Reade.

By turning my will over to God, I become free of the prison exacted by my addiction. By such surrender of self-will, and seeking God's will for me (and the power to carry it out), I leave the result in my higher power's hands one day at a time.

Although not evident in this reading — in which Jonah's obedience to God shines through — Jonah can be quite stubborn. On their intimate terms, he disobeys and grouses at God. In my own life I have been so stubborn about seeking fellowship and asking for help. One day at a time, I attempt to jump over the fence of my isolation — and "self-sufficiency." Only by connecting with others can I truly connect with myself.

One learns in recovery that resentments are deadly: As Jonah had to get over his resentment at God for showing mercy to the people of Nineveh, I must seek to have the horrendous burdens of resentment removed from my spirit. Judging the faults of others will never make me feel better. Rather, ridding myself of resentments' cumbersome burden will foster my spiritual development and increase my ability to forgive others their mistakes. By forgiving others, I can begin to forgive myself — enriching my life with good thoughts, kind words, and service to others.

Conversely, cumulative resentments — such as those Jonah felt toward the Assyrians — will make me feel uncomfortable in my own skin and leave me vulnerable to the siren's song of drugs.

Jon Nalley





Tuesday, February 27, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Tuesday in the First Week of Lent

Psalm 34:15-22
Isaiah 55:6-11
Matthew 6:7-15


How much can you let go of?

This was a challenge whispered into my brain when I was about 23 years old. I was living in Minneapolis, and one afternoon that question came to me as I walked across a pedestrian bridge above the Mississippi River. There was a tree, uprooted by a recent storm, which had been carried down the river, and it was caught in some rocks right below the bridge. The excess water from the rainstorm was powering along, causing whitewater to rise around the trapped tree.

It struck me. At the time I didn't know why. But it was beautiful, and sad, and frightening, and somehow deep. As I walked, staring at the tree and the water, I felt a chill and I heard the question: "How much can you let go of?"

That has become the question I always return to. In reading the lessons for today, the concept of forgiveness jumps out at me. "For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your father forgive your trespasses." (Matthew 6:14-15, KJV). At the delta of forgiveness is, I think, release.

Forgiveness is a dish best served piping hot. The longer we hold onto our resentment, the more firmly it affixes itself to our hearts. It becomes a part of who we become, infecting our choices and hopes.

But forgiveness is no easy thing. In fact, sometimes I feel as if it is truly more than we are capable of. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts" (Isaiah 55:9 KJV) saith the Lord.

Or to quote a Pope (despite the fact that we're Anglican): "To err is human, to forgive divine" (Alexander Pope in "Essay on Criticism").

I think what we are called to do is to turn our hurt and anger over to God and let him fill our hearts with compassion. I don't really understand forgiveness except to know that praying for the blessing and protection of people who make me mad puts my heart and mind in a better place. That said, we all know it's hard to shrug off the bad things people do to us. It's a lifelong process maybe, instead of a quick housecleaning.

I was that tree in the river, I think, when I was 23. It didn't occur to me at the time, but I guess that was why it was so affecting. Learning the value of letting go and forgiveness — or of at least trying to let go and trying to allow God to forgive me, and for me to forgive me, and for me to forgive the people in my life, and for God to bless the whole cast and crew – has allowed me to free myself from the rocks and continue my journey.

"The Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate" (Psalm 34:22).
Sarah Johnson






Monday, February 26, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Monday in the First Week of Lent

Psalm 19:7-14
Leviticus 19:1-2,11-18
Matthew 25:31-46

Seated around the dining room table, the children and I (and hard-working Olivier in absentia :-) ) contemplate the observance of Lent in the hustle, bustle of 21st century New York City. What can we learn from today's readings? How do they guide us during this Lenten period of prayer, a season of soul-searching and repentance, a time for reflection and focus on our relationship with God?

In Leviticus we learn that God is "good" and he wants us to be good, too. He wants peace and happiness, and he suggests a way of life in which we can enjoy peace and happiness, too. He sets forth some basic ideas, really rules for us to live by. These are our commandments — do not steal or lie, be kind to those less fortunate than yourself, be just, and "love your neighbor as yourself." This is God's wisdom and he shares it with us to consider in our day-to-day life.

In Psalm 19, we are told the way of the Lord is perfect, fine and sweet, and if we follow the rules of the Lord, we will be rejuvenated and lead a happy and rewarding life. We may be tempted to waiver from the ways of the Lord, but following his rules will have sweet reward.

Matthew tells us a story in which all people are divided in two groups — the people "on the right-hand side of the King" who follow the way of the Lord, who will inherit God's kingdom and enjoy eternal life because they've been generous to all people, they have treated their fellow human beings as they would want to be treated. Are you hungry? I will give you food. Are you cold? I will share my warm clothing with you. But what happens to the people on the left of the King? They suffer eternal punishment because they did not take care of the hungry and the less fortunate. They turned the other way and did not help those who were suffering and in need. This is not the way of the Lord, this is not how God wants us to live on this Earth.

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer." Through today's readings we are reminded of God's precepts, his rules of conduct for us, the ways in which to live a just, holy and rewarding life that will lead to eternal peace. We are reminded that he sent Jesus to teach us how to lead a good life, how to be a good Christian. Applying all of these proclamations to the letter may prove a challenge but keeping them in our mind and remembering the beauty of a life with God is rewarding to our souls.

Finally, Lent is also a time of abstinence and for our family it means no chocolate, no ice cream: we can't wait for Easter!

Claire, Alex, Jennifer and Olivier Lemaigre







Saturday, February 24, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Saturday after Ash Wednesday

Psalm 86:1-11
Isaiah 58:9b-14
Luke 5:27-32

Today's readings testify to the boundless gifts of God and to his expectations for our work in the world, caring for others and striving to follow God's teachings.

Much of the passage in Psalms is devoted to praise of God and thanksgiving for his "steadfast love." The Psalmist also expresses confidence that God will answer his call for help in times of trouble. But he asks for more: to learn God's ways, so that he may walk in truth. And he directs his prayer to a specific goal, asking for an "undivided heart" to support his worship of God. The request brought to my mind the many demands of the world that can divide my attention and my heart, and keep me from devoting as much time to thoughtful prayer as I intend (and require!).

Isaiah sets up a clear exchange: If we avoid certain actions, we will be rewarded by God. We are to turn away from "speaking evil," and from neglecting those who are in need. The blessings to be realized in return range from the general (continual guidance from God) to the extravagant and far reaching (becoming like a life-giving spring of water, and standing as one who "restores the streets to live in," i.e., is the source of practical help for many).

The familiar passage from Luke recounts one of the occasions when Jesus defined his mission. At a banquet given for him by the tax collector Levi, he responds to challenges from the religious leaders who question his dining with tax collectors and "sinners." Jesus replies emphatically: he has come among people not to associate with the "righteous," but to help sinners in need.

Dori Dinsmoor





Friday, February 23, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Friday after Ash Wednesday

Psalm 51:1-10
Isaiah 58:1-9a
Matthew 9:10-17

These three passages are about repentance, essentially. What does it mean to repent? This is an important question.

In the New Testament, the word that is translated into English as "repent" is the Greek word, metanoia. Metanoia in Greek means literally "change of mind." It does not have the negative connotations associated with it that "repentance" generally does to our ears. It means that one is willing to change one's ways of belief and thinking, to be transformed somehow, to be willing to reconsider – to give up one way of thinking for another.

So, metanoia, "repentance", is a way of being reborn in Spirit. Allowing the Spirit to "loose the bands of wickedness," "to undo the heavy burdens and to let the oppressed go free," "and break every yoke" – the burden of sin and error is something that we are relieved of as we cooperate in this spiritual rebirthing process, hopefully, through a life of prayer. Jesus tells us elsewhere that "His yoke is easy and His burden is light" – metanoia means exchanging the "worldly" yoke for Christ's.

Also, there is the fundamental concept of mercy inherent in these passages. Christ says He is here for the sinners, to save those who were lost. Isaiah writes that the Lord teaches us that a suitable sacrifice, a suitable – or rather, an "acceptable" fast is one wherein we clothe those who need clothing, we take in those who need taking in – in short in which we show mercy. Going to the Greek again, "mercy" is translated from eleison. Eleison is related – at least in form and sound – to the word eleos, olive oil. In biblical times, olive oil was used as ointment, medicine, balm – to heal wounds. So "mercy" is thought of as something much deeper than simply giving someone a break. It is healing, therapy, to be restored to wholeness. This rebirth that comes through mercy is something that restores us to health and is essentially therapeutic: spiritual, mental, physical, emotional and any other dimension in which Spirit can penetrate and create its transformation in us.

But our repentance opens the door. Or rather, it's our way to open the door to Christ who stands at the door and knocks – that willingness to reconsider, to change one's mind. As we think of mercy this Lenten season, I'd suggest we think of it in terms of how it can help to heal and transform us, open us up to new ways of thinking and believing, to ways in which we can accept to change for the better. Christ says clearly that His way is not the predictable way. Isaiah teaches us that the Lord tells us what His point of view is on the acceptable fast, not ours. We need to hold that door open to ways in which the Lord will teach us to think, opening the door to that absolute Other that we can only come to know through grace. Isaiah speaks of the acceptable sacrifice as that of the practice of mercy – the breaking of every yoke, but Jesus takes that one step further and asks us to make an acceptable sacrifice within ourselves: we lift our own yokes and exchange them for His, we give up one way of thinking, and accept His, we empty in order to be filled. This is metanoia, "change of mind." It is the rebirth in Spirit that goes on for a lifetime of faith. Open the door in prayer to the idea that God may have ideas for you which require that you be willing to reconsider your own certainties, that He may be calling you to think outside your own box. That – as far as I know – is what the process of salvation is all about, is what it means to be redeemed.

Janine Economides






Thursday, February 22, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Thursday after Ash Wednesday

Psalm 1
Deuteronomy 30:15-20
Luke 9:18-25

"See, I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity…Choose life."
Deuteronomy 30:15-20

"For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it."
Luke 9:24

The Old Testament lesson and the Gospel reading for today at first seem somewhat at odds. The former exhorts us to "choose life" while Jesus says we need to give up our life in order to save it. Choosing life would seem an easy enough proposition. Confronted with the options offered in the lesson, who wouldn't pick life and prosperity over death and adversity? On deeper reflection, though and speaking only for myself, I find that it is often easy for me to confuse choosing life with being acquisitive, trying to grab on to as much as I can. The phrase "retail therapy" comes to mind. How easy it is when we're down in the dumps to believe that a shiny new toy will cheer us up, enrich our lives, make us feel more, well, alive. I think at least part of what Jesus is saying is that that kind of materialism can blind us to the real life we should be choosing to live. If we can let go of some of the things we think are so important, we will likely find that we get along just as well, if not better, without them, which I suppose is one of the main purposes of Lent. Call it "spiritual therapy."

Vin Knight






Wednesday, February 21, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Ash Wednesday

Psalm 103
Joel 2:1-2,12-17
2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

Psalm 103, which opens and closes with the same exhortation ("Bless the Lord, O my soul") is one of the most beautiful passages in the Bible. We find here, on the day that reminds us of our own mortality and begins our penitential season, a long cry of praise and thanksgiving for God's goodness, his forgiveness, his love and mercy, his righteousness, his healing. This cry is made possible by the fact that God and the psalmist David "remembers that we are dust," and it anticipates the glorious outcome of the dark period we are entering. Some of David's language is very familiar to me; I can still hear our Methodist minister, in his frock coat and Cornish accent, as he intoned weekly,
For as the heavens are high above the earth,
so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him;
as far as the east is from the west,
so far he removes our transgressions from us."
Although the prophet Joel presents the day of God's coming as "a day of darkness and gloom…like blackness spread upon the mountain," his God also pleads, "Return to me with all your heart," for God is "gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love," echoing the psalmist's God. And so here too redemption rather than darkness and gloom is stressed.

I find it interesting and more than a little puzzling that these texts are more clearly related to the observance of Ash Wednesday and Lent than today's Epistle and Gospel. True, the Corinthian text asserts that "we have commended ourselves in every way" to God's service, but neither there nor in the Gospel passage, which is an appeal to seemly demeanor while praying, fasting, and giving alms, do we find much related to the observance of this special day and season.

Let us return to the psalm for real sustenance.

Charlie Hill






Sunday, February 18, 2007

 
From AscensionNYC

Editor's Preface to Printed Edition

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.
1 Corinthians 13:1

I've been thinking a lot about Paul. For many years, I thought of him as a bit of a prig and a misogynist, but lately I've been enjoying his almost legalistic wrangling, the echoes of logical and rhetorical devices being applied to matters of faith.

And then about a year ago, I started studying Greek. Very very slowly. I read about one sentence a week of the New Testament in the original and learn the vocabulary that is found there. It's a completely unscientific way to proceed: I can't actually conjugate the simplest verb, but it's got me engaging with the language of the Bible in a whole new way, and I'm loving it.

A couple of weeks ago, Ron Young read the 1 Corinthians 13 passage at the
11 am service. It's sometimes hard to hear the most familiar texts in a fresh way, they get oddly more distant the better we know them, but Ron's beautiful reading sent me home with the certainty that I wanted to look at the passage in Greek.

At the rate of one sentence a week, it's going to take a while to read the whole passage, but the first sentence alone has so many pleasures that I don't mind a bit!

First off, Paul uses the word laleo for speak, instead of the more common lego. Laleo does primarily mean to speak, but it also means to make sounds with the tongue, or even to babble, whereas lego is more directed and contains the ideas of exhorting or affirming or teaching, not just uttering.

And the word for clanging, that clanging cymbal? It's alalazon, which means shouting out (like when entering battle) or wailing, along with clanging. I can't tell for sure if the two words are etymologically related, but I love the babbling echo of lalo and alalazon.

And speaking of echoes, the word eechon, is used to describe the gong. It means ringing, reverberating, resounding, and it happens to be echoed sonically by the Greek word for I have, which is pronounced echo, (well, sort of, I won't try to go into the whole pronunciation thing here…).

So Paul has set up a secret humble message between what he's exhorting us to avoid and the language he's using to tell us. After all, he's babbling and echoing at precisely the moment that he's telling us not to, which shows us how tricky it is to avoid. And the echoes multiply, because he will repeat the phrase "but if I do not have love" as a refrain in each of the first three sentences of the passage, with a rising intensity of meaning each time. The guy is an incredible poet on a really high level, and the irony that he's saying that none of it matters without love is perfect, because he couldn't possibly write so beautifully without love, or without the Holy Spirit, or both, if there is actually a difference between them.

So here are this year's devotionals to read with love, as they were written with love, and compiled and made into books with love. Lots of laleo, some lego, but no alalazo around here!

And many thanks to Liz Hill for editorial help, and to Matthew Snow for the artwork, design, and construction of the book you're holding in your hands.

Eve Beglarian




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