Psalm 126 / Romans 10:1-13 / John 9:18-41

In trying times like these, our faith offers solace, comfort and a promise that all will be well.

"For man believes with his heart and so is justified, and he confesses with his lips and so is saved" (Romans 10:10). It is doubly trying to believe today; the world seems to be working against us.

We are offered solace and also the promise of delivery from a time of trial. "He that goes forth weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him" (Psalm 126:6). We all have those "seeds" in our talents and skills. We must remember to make ourselves go out and plant those seeds.

"When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.' The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad" (Psalm 126:1-5). The Lord has indeed done great things for us Ascensionites, and we must remember this to survive times of trial.

We must persevere. "The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight, until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight, and asked them, ‘Is this your son who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?'"

— Frank Mackey

Psalm 35 / Romans 9:19-33 / John 9:1-17

At the end of today's Gospel reading the Pharisees disagree with each other about the nature of Jesus' power after he gave a blind man sight. To resolve the disagreement they ask the blind man, "What do you say about him, since he has opened your eyes?" The blind man replies, "He is a prophet."

It seems to me the Pharisees want to ground prophecy in experience. They assume that the beggar will know whether Jesus is righteous because he has personally experienced Jesus' miraculous power. However, as we read on, we learn that the Pharisees are not persuaded by the blind man's testimony about Jesus. They refuse to accept what he can teach them.

Like the Pharisees, we are confronted with the choice between the evidence of faith and the evidence of the world; and like the Pharisees, we must choose which we believe.

For me, this reading brings to mind the words of "Amazing Grace": "I was lost and now I am found, was blind and now I see." The price for true sight — grace — is high: you may be cast out. But the reward is greater: the gift of revelatory, redemptive vision.

— Martha Mitchell

Psalm 107:33-43 / Jeremiah 23:9-15 / John 6:60-71

What a crazy world the Lord has made. Who has the wisdom to understand it? A mentor of mine loves to call it the plane for the spiritually retarded.

In Psalm 107, David speaks of the inevitable vacillations of the physical world and says "by observing these things, we will understand the loving-kindness of the Lord." Jeremiah, a prophet himself, vehemently warns us not to listen to the prophets and priests. And finally, in the book of John, even Jesus seems to be intentionally trying to push us away with divisive, confusing and frightening parables filled with "hard sayings." He seems to say in verse 65 that we are predestined for heaven or hell.

I sat with these sayings for days waiting for some comfort and solace and only two things came to me.

When everything in Job's life had been destroyed or taken from him and he is sitting, literally on a dung heap, a passerby asks him what he thinks about God now. "The Lord God giveth and the Lord God taketh away" he says and continues, "blessed be the name of the Lord." Now there's a spiritual goal.

And when Jesus was asked, slyly, which is the greatest commandment, he responds unhesitatingly, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, with all thy mind and with all thy strength. And the second is like unto it, thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these things two hang all the law and the prophets."

So I guess the goal of life isn't to acquire and hold on to things...nor is it to seek wisdom, particularly from outside oneself. And even, finally, if I'm not chosen by God, and end in hell, I will still love. Love, love, love. Easy? No. Possible? Intermittently.

— Lewis White

Psalm 107:1-32 / Jeremiah 23:1-8 / John 6:52-59

All three readings set for this day center on giving thanks to God.

Only the first reading from the Psalms does this in an obvious way, cataloging a veritable litany of demonstrations of God's power and love for us. "So they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he rescued them from their distress" (REB) is repeated twice after its initial statement. Whether they are imprisoned for their personal misdoings, storm-tossed at sea, caught up in the national tragedy of Diaspora, or lost, hungry and thirsty in the desert wastes, the Lord sets them free, calms the storms, brings the exiles home and satisfies both hunger and thirst. The result is the injunction to all to "give thanks to the Lord for his enduring love and for the marvelous things he has done for mankind."

Jeremiah begins with the denunciation of those leaders who have brought calamity upon the nation by neglecting their duties as shepherds of the people. Yet even the denouncing prophet follows up with the declaration that the wondrous deeds of the Lord of the return from Egypt will be so exceeded by His hand's bringing the exiles to live on their own soil again. The thanks of the people will be so great that they will swear by the Lord who brought them home again, superseding swearing by the Lord who brought them out of Egypt. The Lord will appoint new shepherds, who will abolish fear, dismay and punishment.

John gives us a statement of Jesus proclaiming the Eucharistic feast as God's great gift, real manna from heaven, giving eternal life, not merely temporary sustenance. It is this Thanksgiving to the Father, the meaning of the word "Eucharist," that completes the daily readings. Enduring love, return from exile, dwelling in Christ and the Father, all this should certainly evoke in us the praise of God with thanksgiving for his love that endures forever.

— Dennis Weiscopf

Psalm 69:1-23 / Jeremiah 22:13-23 / John 6:41-51

In the age of airplanes, it is not easy to understand a religion whose founder got around by donkey. To me, the problem of grasping the Gospels' concepts is twofold:

There's the challenge of understanding how the people lived and the meaning of their stories and their figures of speech. I mean, how much do we really know about sheep? When I was teaching a second-grade Sunday school class, one of my favorite ideas was a unit on sheep. We talked about how stupid they are, how a shepherd protects them and keeps them moving. We manipulated samples of wool, ate lamb sausage, attended a sheep-shearing. And so one comes to understand this, from today's Jeremiah passage: "The wind shall shepherd all your shepherds." How much more desolate can it be?

The second is more difficult. I have trouble understanding the concept of sacrificing live animals to our God. The practice is bloody and violent. Even more violent to me is the idea that our God insisted on the very, very bloody death of his own son as a sacrifice. And the idea that Jesus knew that he was to be that bloody sacrifice. The only sacrifice story I relate to is the one about Abram and Isaac, and in that one God let the sacrifice escape. So why did His son have to die?

The passage from John makes so much more sense to me: Jesus is not the flesh and blood of the bloody sacrifice, but his flesh is the Bread of Life. Once again, we are called upon to understand a metaphor based on life two millennia ago. Bread was not just something to spread butter on: it was the staff of life. And when we read that the Israelites died even though they ate the manna from heaven, we understand that this is not just literal bread but "the spirit that gives life."

— Isabel Spencer

The Feast of the Annunciation
Psalm 110:1-5, Psalm 132 / Book of Wisdom 9:1-12 / John 1:9-14

Salvation to all that will is nigh;
That All, which alwayes is All everywhere,
Which cannot sinne, and yet all sinnes must beare,
Which cannot die, yet cannot chuse but die,
Loe, faithfull Virgin, yeelds himself to lye
In prison, in thy wombe; and though he there
Can take no sinne, nor thou give, yet he will weare
Taken from thence, flesh, which deaths force may trie.
Ere by the spheares time was created, thou
Wast in his minde, who is thy Sonne, and Brother;
Whom thou conceiv'st, conceiv'd; yea thou art now
Thy Makers maker, and thy Fathers mother;
Thou hast light in darke; and shut'st in little roome,
Immensity cloystered in thy deare wombe.

— John Donne (1572-1631) from "La Corona"

Psalm 97 / Jeremiah 17:19-27 / John 6:16-27

"It is I; be not afraid," Jesus says to his terrified disciples as he walks across the turbulent sea and steps into their small craft. This episode, from the Gospel of John and described with an economy of means, has come down to us as one of the archetypal miracles of the Jesus story. It shows Jesus, defying natural law, joining his followers to offer them comfort and protection.

In Psalm 97 we are presented with a stern and ferocious lord, described to us in detailed visual terms. He is surrounded by clouds and darkness; a fire proceeds him and burns up all his enemies; he melts mountains like wax.

Finally, in Jeremiah, the lord gives a strict admonition not to work or carry any burden on the Sabbath day. If it is observed, then kings and princes shall enter the gates and the city shall remain forever. But if disobeyed, a "fire will be kindled" and "shall devour the palaces" and "not be quenched."

As we navigate our small crafts through the great river of life, watching as a political and economic firestorm melts our palaces of commerce like mountains of wax and threatens our established social order with anarchy, it might be comforting to keep in our minds an image of Jesus, walking towards us across a storm-tossed sea, urging us not to be afraid, as he lightly steps into our little boat and stirs us towards dry ground.

— Matthew Snow

Psalm 89:1-18 / Jeremiah 16:10-21 /
John 6:1-15

Did God change?

Somewhere between the Old and New Testaments, did he suspect he was messing up as a parent? Did he have a symposium with Benjamin Spock and Lee Salk and decide to give up on corporal punishment and send us a little love instead?

In Psalm 89, the writer extols God's "steadfast love." His "faithfulness ... as firm as the heavens," praising Him for David and the covenant with His people. But, suddenly, at verse 38, God has "renounced the covenant," "spurned and rejected" David and the people. Yoiks!

Another example of apparently horrifying, capricious parenting comes up in our section from Jeremiah: "because you have behaved worse than your ancestors refusing to listen to me ... I will hurl you out of this land into a land that neither you nor your ancestors have known ... for I will show you no favor." However, in the next breath, God says that later, after the Babylonians and Egyptians finish bashing the Jews, he "will bring them back to their own land" that he "gave to their ancestors."

Segue to the New Testament, to John's account of the loaves and the fishes. Could there be a more generous, loving Father? He sends Jesus, not to knock our heads together, but to miraculously feed us — with love and compassion and forgiveness for our "stubborn evil will." Then again, there was Jesus' hideous murder — was that God ... or was that us?

Did God really change? Or is it our perception? There are still devout people who perceive a punishing, retributive hand in natural disasters, wars and disease. When "stuff happens" to me, personally, is it God? Is it me? Where do we draw the line? Do we draw a line? Or ... is there a devil in these details?

— Gretchen Dumler

Psalm 90 / Romans 6:12-23 / John 8:47-59

It's easy to think Paul is obsessed with sin and even sex when we hear this Epistle lesson. But in all likelihood, it's our Western minds that turn his arguments and analogies into the Church Lady's finger-wagging.

I think more than this, however, Paul's actually telling us not to obsess over sin, whatever form it takes. He's saying neither "if it feels good, do it" nor "if it feels good, you can't do it." Instead, Paul says to "not let sin exercise dominion in your mortal bodies." He's arguing against two points of view here, it seems to me. On the one hand, he pretty clearly says that, while no one may be in service to sin in hope of death, death is still the fatal result of a life dedicated to sin, whether in its practice or its avoidance (which should give the Church Lady some pause). Conversely, the point of becoming a slave to righteousness is not to avoid sin (although that seems to be the result) but to rejoice in sanctification. We don't follow Jesus to avoid death; we follow Jesus to embrace life.

While we can disappoint God or even break God's heart by our actions, nothing we might do can separate us from the love of God. Once I truly accept that, perhaps I'll quit trying to prove otherwise.

— Derek Baker

Psalm 91 / Romans 6:1-11 / John 8:33-47

A typical reaction when I tell people that I believe God will save everyone, no exceptions, is a question: Well, then, why bother being good, if you can do whatever you want and still get to go to heaven?

Paul must have been accustomed to this same kind of question in all his exhortation about the bountifulness of God's grace in Christ: "Should we continue to sin in order that grace may abound?" (Romans 6:1) You can just imagine Paul biting his lip and wanting to tell the questioner that he is a complete idiot. This just confirms a lurking suspicion of mine that we continue as Christians to take sin more seriously than we take grace. How do I know this to be true? Because we all would much rather believe that no one gets a free ride instead of everyone, and that a person who starts work later in the day shouldn't be paid the same as the person who got to work early in the morning (Matthew 20:1-15). Just another reason I am glad God doesn't have my sense of justice!

— Stephen P. Hagerty

Psalm 85 / Romans 5:12-21 / John 8:21-32

"Now is the winter of our discontent." The Bard's words are clearly out of context, and yet they seem to express a collective sentiment gripping our city and the wider world. Anxiety pervades our collective psyche, and I find myself looking for signs of relief, particularly for those around me who have suffered from our current economic crisis.

I think it no accident that I experienced something of a shock when from the pulpit Fr. Mark explained that God's plan for us most likely is not seventy-five or eighty years of pain-free life. Of course it isn't, but that reality usually remains hidden, just out of reach. It's easier to think happy thoughts, that better days are just around the corner.

As I watched the 60 Minutes article regarding the US Airways crash in the Hudson, I was moved by the simple, very human words of the pilot, his crew and family in describing the incident and its aftermath. It was humble and hopeful, but more than that, it reminded me of some other words from Fr. Mark, that God is always here to help make us brave. Brave to face down the small injustices and the larger crisis of life, brave to show love unconditionally to everyone who crosses our path, brave to strive to give of ourselves unstintingly, and brave to answer God's call when we hear it.

If there is a message for these times, it is that the love of God, as perfectly expressed in the person of Jesus Christ, will anchor us through the storms of life and keep us humble and grateful in the times of plenty and triumph. The knowledge of God's love will truly set us free to be his beloved children and witnesses to his grace. And as our troubled, tempestuous, pain-filled lives draw to a close, may he grant us a perfect end.

— David Cholcher

Psalm 82 / Romans 5:1-11 / John 8:12-20

Judging links these readings.

The Psalmist cries out to judges, How long will ye judge unjustly? He accuses them of walking in darkness and accepting the wicked when, instead, they should be defending the poor, the fatherless, the afflicted, the needy and all children of God. He prays: "Arise, oh God, judge the earth." In John, Jesus' teachings have a new message. He rejects a call to judge the woman caught in adultery. "He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone. ... Ye judge after the flesh. I judge no man." Paul widens the frame by talking not just about the troubles arising from the failings of judges but addressing all tribulations: "tribulation worketh patience; and patience, experience; and experience, hope."

When faced with tribulation, rather than looking for others to blame or judge, let us ask: "What is trying to happen in my life?" Let us remember and know that the way will open.

Every experience, if accepted, examined, and understood, makes us more able to love, to have empathy and understanding for all men. It opens us to hope.

All are children of God. No one starts life wanting to be a jerk. When we have an impulse to judge another and label someone destructive or dumb or dysfunctional or selfish or greedy or psychotic — whatever — let us all stop and know that God's will is trying to happen through that person. Though they are a tribulation to themselves and to us, let us be patient, open to their experience and ours. Let us not cast the first stone.

Let us join in a commitment not to judge, not to point fingers, not to ridicule, blame or shun any human being. Jesus died for the sinners. He judged no man.

— Connie Heginbotham

Psalm 78:1-39 / Romans 4:13-25 / John 7:37-52

"You will search for me and will not find me; and where I am, you cannot come." (John 7: 34)

I believe that what keeps me stronger is the awareness of myself as a very frail human being, with such a frailty that even faith in God sometimes is hard to accept because of the obstacles of daily life. These are the moments in which hopelessness replaces any form of belief.

But faith in God is different. It is stronger than any kind of belief: it can't make you hopeless.

After reading the Scriptures, I feel much stronger, considering that having Faith is like being part of a whole, a common place in a compelling culture, so deeply inherited by human kind for centuries, that its acceptance is beyond any imagination.

That is why:

"Out of the believer's heart shall flow rivers of living waters." (John 7:38)

— Vittoria Chierici

Psalm 80 / Romans 4:1-12 / John 7:14-36

We begin with the Psalm, addressed to the One who is enthroned between the cherubim. This is the One who is so unknowable that we cannot name his name and his image can't be fashioned — the mysterious Lord in the mercy seat.

And then we come to Jesus. He speaks with authority, having no earthly authority. He teaches without having been taught. He heals on the Sabbath and stands accused. He tells people to judge him with good judgment and not by appearances. To have faith in the will of God is to recognize that the works he does are true because the One who sent him is true. He says they know where he is from, but not where he is going.

Mystery is the key to Christianity and its central relationship with the mysterious Lord who is both unknowable and at the same time the God who's been made human. The only way to know that unknowable God is to participate in mystery through faith, love and trust. The Eucharist is the prime example. We approach it in whatever way we can, and it works in us both consciously and at levels we don't know. Jesus did not simply give us a prescription of do's and don'ts for a social order. Rather, he seeks our faith, a relationship of love and trust. This is the way to discern the good, the true and the beautiful. We must grow through relationship to "know" him just as we do with other persons.

— Janine Economides

Psalm 76 / Jeremiah 5:20-31 / John 7:1-13

It is hard not to tremble before the words of Jeremiah, a response that surely cannot be called unintended. God, through Jeremiah, asks: "Should you not fear me?" We pay a great deal of attention to God's love and all too often forget the fearsome majesty of God, who created all that is, seen and unseen. However, Jeremiah calls us back to the fear that inspires worship and reminds us that it is our stubbornness and rebelliousness that have separated us from the good things of God and his wondrous creation. And what better emblem of this sin of separation than the rich and powerful who have grown fat and sleek while forsaking the poor and the fatherless in their need? "Should I not punish them for this? ... Should I not avenge myself on such a nation as this?" We struggle to venture an answer, our voices muted with shame and embarrassment. And the most terrible question of all: "But what will you do in the end?" Terrible, yet so full of hope, for the answer is not foreordained, nor — great thanks to our stalwart friend and blessed Redeemer — is it ours alone to make.

— Michael Jones

Psalm 73 / Jeremiah 5:1-9 / John5:30-47

In my Bible — given to me, incidentally, by the Church of the Ascension upon my confirmation — the heading of Chapter 5 of Jeremiah is "The Utter Corruption of God's People." Reading the above verses, I could not help thinking about the current financial crisis in which we find ourselves. The theme of judgment runs throughout the Book of Jeremiah and, while I do not think many of us would suggest that this present situation is divine retribution, during this season of reflection and sacrifice it serves as a sharp reminder that actions have consequences. More to the immediate point, though, the actions of a few can have consequences for many in the larger community and, as we have seen time and again, throughout the world. Although it is true that irresponsible behavior — financial and otherwise — hurts many more people than those directly involved, so too can wise stewardship — personal, corporate and governmental — lead to benefits beyond its immediate circle. At this time of new leadership in our country, and when we at Ascension are in the middle of an important Capital Campaign, prayers for the thoughtful and careful use of our collective resources seem more important than ever.

— Vin Knight

Psalm 74 / Jeremiah 4:9-10, 19-28 / John 5:19-29

It was science project day. I had what I believed was the best project in my entire 8th grade science class, a working solar panel made from regular and random items found in hardware stores, garages and dumpsters. I was very proud of the project and gave what I thought was an A+ presentation. Basking in my glory as I walked back to my seat, carrying the rather large panel with me, I heard one of the other students whisper (in that type of whisper meant for all to hear), "I bet he didn't make that panel himself. I bet his dad made it."

My glory was gone. I was crushed, mainly because his whisper was true. My dad had done most of the work in the creation of the panel. He came up with the idea, found the plans, mapped out the building process and sent me on my way to gather the needed items. While I was very proud of this solar panel, I should not have presented it as only my doing and should have acknowledged my father's involvement.

When I read John's Gospel lesson for today, I was reminded of that day. Jesus has delivered his "keynote address," where he explains the relation of the Father and the Son: his equality to God. Jesus is completely dependent upon God. He does nothing by or from himself, and cannot act from himself alone. Jesus is totally at one with God, and even though he is human, he is beyond human existence and therefore both fully human and fully divine. Jesus' whole life, everything he does, comes from his oneness with God. While this revelation angered the crowds, it was necessary for Jesus to explain his oneness with God. Had he not, his credibility would have been at stake.

How do we take what we know and believe as Christians and show our credibility to the world?

— Ned Fitch

Psalm 72 / Jeremiah 3:6-18 / John 5:1-18

Our country gained its freedom by overthrowing the rule of a king, and I have always had a problem with the concept of the "divine right of kings." As a Christian, I believe that there is only one King, and He derives his authority legitimately from God His Father. But in today's readings, from Psalms and Jeremiah, I am reminded that kingship was a part of life and an accepted concept during Christ's lifetime and for centuries to follow.

Psalm 72 anticipates the reign of a righteous king, a king who defends the cause of the poor and gives deliverance to the needy. The Psalmist asks that the king's name endure forever and that all nations call him blessed. We as Christians know that this anticipation and longing will be fulfilled in Jesus.

In Jeremiah 3, the Lord calls on the faithless children of Israel to return to Him, their God and King. The cross that comes at the end of our Lenten fast accomplishes this by gathering us all together as God's children with Christ's outstretched arms and lifting our eyes to God from whom our help comes.

In the Gospel reading from John 5 we are clearly called to forsake the rule of man. This call is embodied in Christ, demonstrated in his acts and spoken in his teachings. In the reading the Jews are furious that Jesus heals the sick man by the pool of Bethesda and instructs him to "rise, take up your pallet and walk." To them, the law to honor the Sabbath is of more importance than carrying out God's work. Christ reminds them that as children of God we must all strive to do the will of the Father. To paraphrase Dr. King, it is always the right time to do the right thing. Christ set the example that we are not to put our faith in our own strength nor in the might of horses or kings but in God, our rock and our salvation.

— David Lehmann

Psalm 62 / Jeremiah 2:1-13 / John 4:43-54

In John's story, a father with a dying son asks Jesus to save his son and Jesus obliges. The father goes home and hears that his son has recovered. As if the cure weren't enough, the father asks around and finds out that his son's miraculous recovery happened in the hour when Jesus told him that his son would live. On this corroboration, the man came to believe.

I can't fault this man for needing proof of Jesus' powers. To have faith is one thing. To need proof of Jesus' ability to deliver and to be able to arrive at a place when one can comfortably attribute miracles to Jesus is another. It speaks to a human need for proof: In today's time, it's called evidence; in another time, it was called signs.

I have asked for many signs from Jesus — sometimes signs of Jesus himself. I've asked today for a good job in which I can be gainfully and happily employed. If this job and sign of providence were not to arrive in a timely way, would my faith falter?

My own faith admittedly rests on conditions of a good life — a life composed of elements X, Y, Z, for example. Jesus foresaw it all. I can hear him sighing as he utters this: "Will none of you ever believe without seeing signs and portents?"

— Vinh Do

Psalm 56 / Jeremiah 1:11-19 / John 4:27-42

I open up Psalm 56, and what's there? All that Old Testament stuff about being oppressed by enemies. Please! Haven't we outgrown this by now? I'm not interested in the sort of God that casts wrath upon the peoples, on my behalf or anyone else's.

But then in the very next verse we get:
You have kept count of my tossings;
put my tears in your bottle.
Are they not in your record?

You have put my tears in your bottle. The idea that God is gathering every one of my tears, keeping count of every restless night, is such a child's image of the all-powerful enfolding loving mother, the one who can rescue me from every scrape, every sadness, every fear, every loss. And I must admit, I have NOT outgrown that God. Even though my rational grownup mind regards the whole thing as faintly ridiculous, when I am afraid or lost I am comforted by imagining a God who gathers all my tears and keeps a record of them.

Something similar happened with the woman at the well in the Gospel reading, after all. "He told me everything I have ever done." She is convinced Jesus is the Messiah not because of any special miracle he performs, but simply because he knows her.

Perhaps it is indeed miraculous to be fully known. And perhaps it is not simply childish to imagine God knowing everything about me; perhaps it's absolutely central to my faith.

— Eve Beglarian

Psalm 139:1-17 / Hebrews 5:1-10 / John 4:1-26

As a child in Texas, I was an acolyte at my parish on the far side of town. Often after having served the 6 p.m. mass, I waited in a desolate parking lot alone under the one wooden lamppost.

But after about 15 minutes I didn't like this "aloneness." So this song came to mind from Glory and Praise, "Yahweh, I know you are near. Standing always at my side. You guard me from the foes, and you lead me in ways everlasting."

That was my first realization that I could never be alone. Singing that song in my head, I began to sense the presence of God around and within me. I still sing it today on occasion — when I want to honor that presence in the stillness of my surroundings — or when I'm just scared!

At the beginning of his ministry, Jesus' commencement into "aloneness" is girded by God's revelation that this is his son — and blessed on a mission. We continue in that legacy as sons and daughters of God.

In the reading about the Samaritan woman. Jesus, alone, approaches a perfect stranger. The Samaritan is not one of his "associates" yet she is familiar. He invites her to recognize the fact that she, too, is not alone. She is not alone in her sin. She is not alone in her struggles. And, as he is not alone on his journey, neither is she.

As we struggle along during Lent, may we remember we are never alone in our "aloneness." We have a companion in Jesus and the support and love of our God.

— Robert Brown

Psalm 51 / Hebrews 4:11-16 / John 3:22-36

In some ways, the Bible is a great comfort — John the Baptist's disciples are having a "discussion" with a Jew about purification, so they come running to John to deal with it. But actually, they really want to tell John how Jesus' disciples are baptizing people, and not only that, more people than he, John, is baptizing. It is comforting because the people in the Bible are so real and the topics so pertinent to our world today. We, too, squabble and argue and metaphorically stick our tongues out at each other: "Our version of Christianity is best because... !"

John's answer is simple. "I am not the Messiah," he says, "but I have been sent ahead of him. ... He must increase and I must decrease." How many people in today's world would be willing to say that?

He also reminds them that "whoever believes in the Son has eternal life, whoever disobeys the Son will not see life but must endure God's wrath."

Paul reiterates this: "Indeed, the Word of God is living and active, sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart."

The Psalmist tells us that "the sacrifice that is acceptable to God is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart."

Keep me from turbulence, Lord, and give me a contrite heart.

— Barbara Head

Psalm 46 / Hebrews 4:1-10 / John 3:16-21

I have to admit that I was not thrilled to see John 3:16 assigned to me for the Lenten Devotional. For me, it conjures up the images of pop culture and televangelism (e.g., the "John 3:16" sign at football games, bumper stickers, TV preachers). When I hear it used in the context of evangelism, it seems like a warning. It's as if God has sent a warning: Believe in Jesus, or face the consequences. However, the next verse (John 3:17) surprisingly warns against condemnation. "God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world." That verse is comforting because it disarms those who seek to use religion to condemn others.

The rest of the passage focuses on truth. Those who live by truth follow God and are in the light. These verses remind me of the importance of transparency. As our organizational systems (e.g., corporations, government) become larger, we need to remind ourselves that transparency from our leaders is a necessity. It is easy to follow the short cut and hide things in the darkness, but the lack of transparency makes corruption and dishonesty easier to hide. Part of being a leader involves welcoming input and providing others to discover the decision-making process. Unfortunately, today's leaders see that as a waste of time and money.

Some questions to consider. How can we demand more transparency from our leaders? How can we lead our lives by following the truth and light? How can we as a parish encourage evangelism without the condemnation?

— Steven Hubbard

Psalm 119: 49-72 / Hebrews 3:12-19 / John 2:23-3:15

I admire and envy the author of Psalm 119:49-72. He delights in God's word; it comforts and sustains him. Not only does he keep God's commandments but he hurries to do so. He rises at midnight to praise Him; God's statutes have been his songs. The Psalmist values God's law more "than thousands of gold and silver pieces." All he asks in return is for God to remember His word, His promise "to your servant." I think about my life as a Christian, my selective following of Jesus' teachings. I ask myself if "to love God with all my heart, soul, and mind, and my neighbor as myself" is my most valuable possession. I think of my attempts to follow Jesus and hope He will keep His promise to me.

The author of Hebrews builds upon God's promise, trust, and what interferes with that trust. He tells me both my "brothers and sisters" and Jesus are here to support me, to help me not have an "unbelieving heart that turns away from the living God." The love and support of family and friends is a valuable part of what sustains me but only God knows who I truly am. And I have Him as a partner as long as I "hold our first confidence firm to the end," as long as I continue in an honest and trusting relationship with Him. I am misleading myself in believing I can keep a secret from God "from whom no secrets are hid." Rather isn't this hardening my heart if I hear His voice and still refuse Jesus' trust and love? Will I too be unable to enter "His rest" because of unbelief?

Jesus knows me just as He knew Nicodemus, and like Nicodemus, I come by night when no one can see me, asking my questions: questions that interfere with His promise, "that whoever believes in Him will have eternal life." This is the promise that the Lord gave the Psalmist who had loved and kept God's statutes and this is the promise He makes to me as long as I continue in a personal and trusting relationship with Him.

— Carol Conway

Psalm 47 / Hebrews 3:1-11 / John 2: 13-22

Purging and Holding Firm to the Ongoing Construction of the Heart

Jesus' physical challenge to the moneychangers and the cultural status quo in the temple is one of the most familiar and regularly dramatized episodes from the Bible. The eerie image of Jesus as quietly enraged (one could say he "went postal" on them) is at odds with the inane popular notion he is Mister Goody-Two-Shoes and squeaky-clean. For me this evocative scene provokes multiple readings, but chief among them is Jesus' eagerness to strip bare the intention of those who had become callous, cynical, and opportunistic. A later verse clarifies: he "would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people, and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone" (John 2:24-25). This earthy, incensed Jesus is literally tearing up the house, naming hypocrisy in his midst, and driving people not into the temple, but out: demanding change, a purging. This is a particularly relevant theme today in a time of social transformation brought on by the tectonic shift of the world economies.

Implied in John perhaps more importantly is a message for the individual about the "temple of the body," the inner life of the soul and spirit, or, if you will, responsive listening to the complex and subtle inflections of the human heart. The reading from Hebrews conveys a significant instruction about those inflections: if you harden in the face of present conditions you will become less than who you really are as a being. Opt to broaden and deepen faith, since "the builder has more honor than the house itself. … We are his house if we hold firm to the confidence and pride that belongs to hope."

— Jeffrey Johnson

Psalm 41 / Hebrews 2: 11-18 / John 2: 1-12

Psalm 41 is an assurance of God's help and a plea for healing. Isn't this just what this world needs at this particular moment in history? "Happy are those who consider the poor, the Lord delivers them in the day of trouble. ... The Lord does not give us up to our enemies."

Recognize that our enemies are those who do not believe in God, those who have no consideration of God's gifts to us. Loving God concerns loving God's work, his world, his creatures. The world is in crisis. The planet is in peril. We must change the way we deal with God's gifts. Think of the state of this country, the state of the world and think of how you can help. Consider the poor in spirit, those who have no faith. How can anyone look at the wonders of nature and not believe in the awesome beauty of God's gifts? We are stewards of those gifts.

John 2:1-12 tells the familiar story of the wedding at Cana, the first of the many of Jesus' miracles, when Jesus turns water into wine. In times when we are seemingly out of resources, we can call upon God to create miracles. We have wind, solar, hydro, and other of God's gifts to use in a more responsible way. Believe in miracles: we can turn this crisis around and heal our planet.

Hebrews 2:11-18: Put your trust in God. Jesus became a man to be a faithful and merciful servant of God. Each of us has the potential to live the life God wants for us. We are at a precipice in history: we must be faithful to our stewardship: we must believe in miracles. I believe.

— Sara Jones