Lenten Devotional 2021 - St. Paul's Memorial Church
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Lenten Devotional
2021February 17, Ash Wednesday: Psalm 51:1-17 • Joel 2:1-2,
12-17 • 2 Corinthians 5:20b–6:10 • Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
When I read these four passages, two powerful points appeared to
me from three of them:
First, the importance of the heart.
Create in me a clean heart . . .
Rend your hearts and not your garments . . .
Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also . . .
Second, what shows outside, what I do that others can see, has
meaning only to the extent it matches what is in the heart. God sees
what is in the heart, what my true motives are—even when I lie to
myself about those motivations.
I have heard the words in these readings so often that I may have
internally convinced myself that I am acting from some noble motive.
But as long as the focus is on me and my motive, I am off-target. I fear
that what God wants is that I feel unconditional love for the target
of my good act. Not just tell myself that I love my brother or sister
and feel good for having responded to the need. The response must
become instinctive, without any thought of the consequences, including
the consequence of feeling good or righteous. The unconditional love
that God has exemplified is not natural for us animals; it takes a lifetime
to learn.
Things I do out of unconditional love, especially if I do them
anonymously ( . . . your good deed must be secret . . . ) are what count, but—
here’s the catch—no one is counting, and I should not be trying to keep
track of the good I do. God’s love is unconditional, too, and will be
there to envelop me whether I do it right or wrong. As a child, I must
strive to be like that, as best I can. And, as a loved child, I trust that God
will keep loving me and offering me more choices along the path that
returns me to oneness with my Creator.
Thanks be to God, who in all things loves me.
— JT HineFebruary 18, Thursday: Psalm 37:19-42 • Deuteronomy
7:6-11 • Titus 1:1-16 • John 1: 29-34
“Wait on the Lord, and keep his way, and He will exalt you to inherit
the land.”
Man, oh man, do I hate waiting. There are some things in life that I am
incredibly patient about—students working their way to understanding
in class, slow check-out lines, rush-hour traffic. But waiting for big
things, things I need or want or dream, sets me on edge with anxiety
and fear. For over a decade, I’ve dealt on and off with serious, chronic
illness. It has sapped a lot of dreams, pushing me to the sidelines and
threatening plans and milestones or seeming to let them pass by. God
has been incredibly gracious in this, through the care of good people
and sometimes through bringing dreams to me when I couldn’t go after
them myself, so I can feel guilty about marking the losses. But they are
real and big.
We’ve all experienced that type of sequestered waiting some these past
months—sheltering in place as nature spun around the globe, waiting
for justice, wondering about the state of the nation and what the next
phase would be. When you’re really in need, waiting is scary, especially if
it’s not by choice. It involves risk and uncertainty and loss.
So when I hear “wait on the Lord” in church circles, sometimes bandied
about as advocating or sacralizing the passivity I’ve felt forced into, I
bristle. But today’s readings reminded me that when God tells people to
wait on God’s action, it’s not passivity at all—it’s assurance, cutting into
a broken world and saying that help—and hope—are on the way. “Hold
on,” it says, “I see and I am coming.” The “wait” in the Old Testament
is closer to John the Baptist’s “prepare the way for the Lord”—and in
today’s Gospel, John gets to see the fruit of his wait.
Sometimes hope is scary, but as we see in Lent and Easter, our God
specializes in bringing dead things back to life. Is there anything that
you are hoping for today? Might we bring those places into the presence
of the Lord, fear aside, and ask what God would like to do with them.
— Jessica LoweFebruary 19, Friday: Psalm 95 • Deuteronomy 7:12-16
• Titus 2:1-15 • John 1:35-42
I have always been so busy living my life I have taken little time for
reflection. Even after retiring, my life has been full and busy with what
and who I love. I have never really stopped long enough to actually see
my beloved little neighborhood or the wonderful dogs just waiting to be
petted or the glorious sunrises and sunsets and moonlit nights—such
treasures.
I have learned to let go of my sense of urgency about getting things
done, discovering, much to my delight, that things actually can wait, and
what pleasure lies in simply taking my time, in being, in watching the sky
and feeling the breeze and hearing the birds and children playing and
realizing what gifts my senses are.
Slowing the pace, savoring the moment, and simplifying my life—
rejoicing in the day that the Lord has made and saying thank you.
— Anna AskounisFebruary 20, Saturday: Psalm 42 • Deuteronomy 7:17-26
• Titus 3:1-15 • John 1:43-51
Do your best to come to me at Nicopolis, for I have decided to spend the winter there.
Titus 3:12b
I have climbed the outside slope of Arthur’s Seat. Hugging the rim with
my whole body, I slowly enter the crater. I slip off my backpack and sit
down. To the north is the Firth of Forth and to the east is the North
Sea. I feel giddy in a quiet joy. I retrieve my King James Bible from my
pack. My name is etched in gold on the front and the zippered cover
safely keeps the pages of my teenage years. Hear these words from
Psalm 42. “As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my
soul after thee, O God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God.”
“The stag at eve has drunk his fill where danced the moon on Monan’s
rill.” In the ninth grade, Mrs. DelGreco had us memorize the opening
verses of Sir Walter Scott’s The Lady of the Lake. The first line returns to
me with ease. Surrounded by the majesty of ancient geology, the hart
longs for thee, O God, and has drunk his fill.
“When the goodness and loving-kindness of God our Savior appeared,
he saved us, not because of any works of righteousness that we had
done, but according to God’s mercy, through the water of rebirth and
renewal by the Holy Spirit. This Spirit God poured out on us richly
through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by God’s
grace we might become heirs according to the hope of eternal life. The
saying is sure.” (Titus 3:4-8)
Today, it is 48 degrees Fahrenheit in Nicopolis. From where I sit, the
Ambracian Gulf is to the east and the Ionia Sea to the west. My soul
has thirsted for God, and I am washed by the water of rebirth and
renewal by the Holy Spirit.
I have decided to spend the winter here.
— Betsy DanielFebruary 21, First Sunday in Lent: Psalm 25:1-9
• Genesis 9:8-17 • 1 Peter 3:18-22 • Mark 1:9-15
Genesis 9:8–17; 1 Peter 3:18–2; Mark 1:9–15
These three passages have special resonance in 2021, as we mourn
so many people and lives lost, and dare to hope for emergence from
a very dark time. In Genesis, following the disaster of the Flood, we
move from darkness to hope as the waters recede and God establishes
his first biblical covenant with us. In Peter, we are reminded of Christ’s
suffering for us “in order to bring you to God.” In Mark, the Spirit
descends and blesses Jesus—“with you I am well pleased”—following
Christ’s baptism by John, who will soon be imprisoned.
Darkness, floods, Christ’s suffering in the wilderness and soon-
to-come suffering on the Cross, John’s arrest. The world is broken.
The Spirit even sends Jesus into the desert to be tempted for 40 days!
Suffering feels encompassing, and even, perhaps, God’s will for us?
Must we suffer to be saved? Or is the message that Jesus must suffer
and be tempted to be fully human as well as fully divine?
And yet. And yet.
God places his bow, a symbol of war, in the heavens facing away
from the earth and promises no more life-extinguishing floods. Peter
reminds us that the “righteous” (Christ) spared us and suffered for the
“unrighteous” (us). Jesus is baptized, sin is washed away, and we hear
“the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good
news.”
In this season of repentance, we are reminded by Father, Son, and
Spirit that forgiveness, redemption, and hope, are at hand. They require
effort—they require belief—they require our longing hearts to hear the
Good News—but they are here.
Covid and the news aside, we can indeed hear “the good news”
and work to live into that bright, glorious message. I know I’m going to
keep trying.
— Rebecca Argon
P.S. With thanksgiving for my friend, Anne Cressin, whose birthday is
today, this first Sunday in Lent.February 22, Monday: Psalm 52 • Deuteronomy 8:11-20
• Hebrews 2:11-18 • John 2:1-12
All four of today’s readings convey more or less overtly the well-known
directive to put our trust in God. Psalm 52 describes in painful detail
various forms of evil—for example, “Your tongue is like a sharp razor,
you worker of treachery”—which can only be overcome by trusting in
God’s steadfast love. This love is available to us despite all our history
of wrongdoing. The verses from Deuteronomy tell us the various ways
God took care of the Israelites, leading them out of Egypt and through
the wilderness, providing water and food for them. We must trust the
Lord who has promised to care for us. The Hebrews passage reminds
us that we are God’s children, God overcame the power of death for
us: “I will put my trust in him” (2:13). And finally, John’s gospel tells of
Jesus’ first miracle, turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana. Mary
noticed that the wine had run out and told Jesus, trusting him to know
what could be done.
Our current situation, as we live through the COVID pandemic, can
be understood as in-between or liminal time. A defining characteristic
of liminal time is uncertainty. We experience tremendous uncertainty
about what to expect—in terms of the illness itself, the vaccine, how
long this liminal time might last, what our lives might be like afterwards.
What can we depend on? We urgently need somewhere to go with our
uncertainty, something or someone to entrust with our hopes and fears
for the present and the future. In today’s readings, we are repeatedly
reassured that we are safe in God. It is God to whom we turn in our
doubt and insecurity, God in whom we can trust. And in the presence
of such trust, liminal time can also become a time of growth.
As the Psalm says: “I am like a green olive tree in the house of God. I
trust in the steadfast love of God for ever and ever.”
— Deborah HealeyFebruary 23, Tuesday: Psalm 47 • Deuteronomy 9:4-12
• Hebrews 3:1-11 • John 2:13-22
John 2:13-22
This passage from the Gospel of John is rich and deep. It is also a bit
cryptic, and even perhaps a little disturbing. First Jesus whips and drives
out people and animals from the temple, then he justifies these actions
to his critics with arcane claims about “this temple” being rebuilt in three
days. There’s much to wonder about here, and it would be impossible to
comment on everything in this passage in a short reflection. So instead,
I want to point to the final verse. We discover at the end of the passage
that Jesus’ disciples were also left wondering after this event. Though
they were regularly with Jesus, listening to him and following him, they
were still left uncertain about what he may have meant and why he
may have acted as he did. We read that it wasn’t until “after he was
raised from the dead” that the disciples were able to reflect and finally
“believe the Scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.” Though they
had been with him, seen what had happened, and listened to his words,
the disciples were unable to know or understand what Jesus had meant.
It would take an act of God, combined with time and reflection, for the
disciples to finally begin to understand and to truly believe.
In this time of Lent, I find the example of the disciples comforting. Our
life with Jesus is often riddled with uncertainty and confusion. We read
the words and deeds of Jesus, but often find ourselves uncertain of their
meaning. We believe the Lord is at work in the world around us, and
even in our hearts, but we are more often mired in disorientation and
ambivalence. Like the disciples, we may have to simply wait. Perhaps it
will only be after we have seen him “raised from the dead,” remembered,
and reflected, that we will be able to truly know.
— Peter Fraser-MorrisFebruary 24, Wednesday: Psalm 53 • Deuteronomy
9:13-21 • Hebrews 3:12-19 • John 2:23–3:15
Today’s readings from the Psalms, Deuteronomy, and the letter to the
Hebrews offer a pretty grim picture of humanity.
In Psalm 53, the psalmist speaks bitterly: “The fool has said in his heart,
‘There is no God.’ / All are corrupt and commit abominable acts/. . . .
/ There is none who does good; no not one.”
In the reading from Deuteronomy, the people rescued from slavery,
waiting for Moses to descend from Mount Sinai, embrace idolatry while
on the very cusp of receiving the Ten Commandments, being “quick to
turn from the way that the LORD had commanded. . . .”
And in the reading from Hebrews, the author, fearing that the brothers
and sisters to whom he is writing may be as prone to sin as their spiritual
forebears in the wilderness, warns them solemnly. “Take care,” he says,
“that none of you may have an evil, unbelieving heart that turns away
from the living God,” and beware “that none of you may be hardened
by the deceitfulness of sin.” Paraphrasing from Psalm 95, he cautions:
“Today, if you hear his voice, / Do not harden your hearts as in the
rebellion.”
The observations, indictments, and warnings of these readings seem
uncomfortably timely in our “today.” What might we do with them?
Perhaps the story of Nicodemus’ nighttime visit to Jesus in today’s
reading from John offers some suggestions. Nicodemus has been paying
attention to the signs of his times, the works and words of Jesus. He
hears, he notices, and he comes to Jesus affirming that Jesus has come
from God, opening himself to a conversation, to fuller understanding,
to fuller discernment. Unsure of what to make of Jesus’ words about
being born again, about water and Spirit, Nicodemus perseveres. He
does not harden his heart. By the time of Jesus’ death, his heart has so
softened that, along with Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus cares for
Jesus’ body and lays it in the tomb.
— Karen MawyerFebruary 25, Thursday: Psalm 50 • Deuteronomy
9:23–10:5 • Hebrews 4:1-10 • John 3:16-21
This liturgical season gets its name in most languages either from the
forty days (Carême) or the custom of fasting (Fastenzeit). The English
Lent is a more dynamic word, one related to the inexorable lengthening
of the days, the increase of light and life and the shrinking of darkness
as spring approaches in the Northern Hemisphere. Trees bud out,
crocuses push up through the soil, and goldfinches turn gold. They
can’t help responding to the light, the material expression of God’s
irresistible power:
The mighty one, God the Lord,
speaks and summons the earth
from the rising of the sun to its setting.
Out of Zion, the perfection of beauty, God shines forth. . . .
I know all the birds of the air, and all that moves in the field is mine.
Unlike the goldfinches, we have a choice about responding to the light.
“And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and
people loved darkness rather than light. . . . Those who do what is true
come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have
been done in God.”
The light of God! Where do we find it? I’m reminded of The Screwtape
Letters. Screwtape is describing prayer from the devil’s point of view.
“. . . the Enemy will not meantime be idle. Wherever there is prayer, there
is the danger of His own immediate action. He is cynically indifferent
to the dignity of His position. . . and to human animals on their knees
He pours out self-knowledge in a quite shameless fashion.” To the devil,
God’s presence is “that ghastly luminosity, that stabbing and searing
glare. . . .”
May we all have the courage to open ourselves to the strong and loving
light revealed in prayer and in “deeds done in God.” May we all grow
into the light of Lent.
— Vickie GottlobFebruary 26, Friday: Psalm 54 • Deuteronomy 10:12-22
• Hebrews 4:11-16 • John 3:22-36
Dear old Revised Common Lectionary. How did these four passages get
grouped together? Are they all talking about the same Deity?
King David goes to God for vindication. “Come on God, help me out
here. I’ll make sacrifices to you.” John the Baptist tells his followers to
believe in God and have eternal life, but disobey Him and endure his
wrath. Both sound transactional in a bad way, to me.
Moses’ God takes no bribes. Given all of God’s good works, Moses
commands that we keep God’s commands. If God takes no bribes, there
cannot possibly be anything transactional here, though Moses seems a
bit of a conductor on a guilt trip.
My 3rd millennium, C.E, soul feels uninspired by tales of Deities who
are vindictive, threatening wrath, or demanding awe of their work.
These Gods are all too human.
However, Saint Paul’s God I can go to for comfort. His God inspires
me to face judgement. Since we have a great high priest, Jesus, who
“in every respect has been tested as we are, yet [is] without sin,” not a
priest who is “unable to sympathize with our weakness” then “Let us . . .
approach the throne of grace,” the “eyes of the one to whom we must
render an account,” who “is able to judge the thoughts and intentions
of the heart,” “before [whom] . . . all are naked and laid bare”—Let us
go before that God “with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and
find the grace to help in time of need.”
Here we see two aspects of the miraculous Trinity. The word of God,
who is an all-discerning judge, and Jesus the man, our experienced
and sympathetic advocate. I can indeed go before this God with self-
confidence, to find mercy and grace in my time of need.
— Patsy GoolsbyFebruary 27, Saturday: Psalm 138 • Deuteronomy
11:18-28 • Hebrews 5:1-10 • John 4:1-26
It is the middle of the day, the white sun scorching the stones, the dust
of the road, the backs of all who are laboring because they haven’t sense
or means enough to find shade. The woman comes to the well at noon,
when she is less likely to meet anyone. No one else should be there,
since the majority of the women come early, in the cool of the day, to
collect their supply of water. Her water jar is large and heavy and will
be heavier still once it is filled, making the return in the heat yet more
tiring. It is worth it not to meet the stares and the comments of the
other women who gather. She slows as she approaches the well, for she
sees a man there, a stranger, a Jew. She averts her eyes from him as she
lowers the bucket into the well but is startled when she hears him say,
“Give me a drink.”
With those few words, Jesus engages this unnamed Samaritan woman
in a conversation that will open her life in ways she’d never imagined.
This passage in the Gospel of John continues in its revelation of what
Jesus Christ is and means. There is no one so lowly or beyond the
fold that Jesus will not engage with her. By inviting her questions, her
participation in this conversation, He is already giving her a sense of her
beloved-ness. And if she fears that He has somehow mistaken her for
someone else, someone more worthy, He shows her that He sees her.
Never having met her before, he nonetheless knows the scandals and
disappointments of her life and tells her so. She need never worry that
there is something that will disqualify her from what He offers if He
learns about it because he already knows. And what is this something that he
offers? John’s Gospel tells of the living waters that have no end, waters
that “will become . . . a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” It
is a promise of such generosity that the woman races, weariness and
wariness forgotten, to gather all those people she avoided before. She
cannot keep this revelation to herself; she wants them to share in this
bounty. That is the heart of the Good News—the limitations that have
circumscribed the life of this woman, of everyone, no longer apply. The
generous blessings that God has revealed through Jesus Christ must be
shared just as generously.
For God so loved the whole world.
— Michelle AllenFebruary 28, Second Sunday in Lent: Psalm 22:22-30 •
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16 • Romans 4:13-25 • Mark 8:22-38
Mark 8: 22–38
~ Adaptation ~
In Mark, the theme of blindness and healing is referenced. Jesus met
with a blind man. He “. . . put saliva on the man’s eyes, and laid his hands
on him.” Jesus asked the man if he could see. The man answered: “‘I see
people, but they look like trees walking.’ Then Jesus laid his hands on his
eyes again.” The man reported he could see clearly.
This incident is noteworthy because Mark records a time when Jesus
initially did not obtain the results he wanted. Jesus adapted to the
situation and tried again. How many times have we attempted a new way
of thinking—such as exploring an unfamiliar highway while traveling,
or attempting a behavioral change—only to stop when gratification
is delayed, or, seems unobtainable. We tell ourselves that we are “too
busy” or “don’t have time for that.” Later, in retrospect, we realize that
we have played a part in limiting our own potential opportunities, or
contributions to others.
While reviewing the reading in Mark, my thoughts returned to my
experiences as a residential teacher trainee at Perkins School for the
Blind in Boston. An aspect of my work was observing children adapting
to their permanent loss of vision with their demonstrated use of their
hearing, smelling, tasting and touching. A poignant experience, for
example, was watching a young child touching the raised dots on a page,
while excitedly “reading” a story, written in braille, to her classmates.
Also, it was not unusual to see a child listening to footsteps coming down
the hall, then calling out the correct name of the person walking nearby.
In the Biblical passage cited above we read of Jesus—his attempting
to heal a blind man, not obtaining the desired results, and subsequently
trying again. We can find restorative comfort in our association with
Jesus’ example. His adaptive behavior can provide reassurance and
guidance in times of our own indecision in our lives.
— Margery DanielMarch 1, Monday: Psalm 57 • Jeremiah 1:11-19
• Romans 1:1-15 • John 4:27-42
In this passage from John, Jesus ignores two cultural mores:
prejudice against Samaritans and the prohibition against a holy man
meeting a woman in a public place. He speaks to the Samaritan woman
at the well, inquiring about her husband. When she replies that she is
not married, Jesus reveals what he already knows: “. . . you have had five
husbands and the one you have now is not your husband.”
The woman, astounded that this stranger knows her shame, concludes
that he must be a prophet. As she continues to speak about her people’s
practice of praying on the mountain versus the current preference of
Jerusalem, Jesus affirms that God can be worshipped anywhere. Perhaps
dubious, she surmises that all will be revealed when the messiah comes.
In what must have been a jolting response, Jesus says, “I am he, the
one who is speaking to you.”
Jesus, in recognizing this woman’s situation, did not chastise,
condemn, or provide pastoral counseling. Instead, by reaching out, he
affirmed her worth and also revealed to her, a Samaritan, his incarnation
as the Messiah for all people.
In this context, Psalm 57 comforts those of us who—like the
woman at the well—face our insecurities by looking to a relationship,
social status, or material possessions to validate our being rather than
realizing that our intrinsic value and worth is being loved by God.
The Psalmist says: “in the shadows of your wings will I take refuge
until the destroying storms pass by. I cry to God Most High, to God who
fulfills his purpose for me. . . . God will send forth his steadfast love and
his faithfulness.”
May we like the Psalmist pray, “For your steadfast love is as high as
the heavens; your faithfulness extends to the clouds. Be exalted O God,
above the heavens. Let your glory be over all the earth.”
Know that you are loved.
— Kay SlaughterMarch 2, Tuesday: Psalm 62 • Jeremiah 2:1-13
• Romans 1:16-25 • John 4:43-54
“For God alone my soul in silence waits.” (Psalm 62:1)
This perilous, protracted time of pandemic and political upheaval is,
among other things, an experience of waiting. The definition of “wait”
does not actually include twiddling thumbs, glancing at the phone again,
huffing in impatience, although I fear those activities are too often a
major part of any waiting I have to do—even waiting for God, alas.
Rather, to wait is to be on watch (the two words are close cognates), and
on watch we have surely been these many months, even hyper-vigilant
in some necessary ways. We wait for, watch for symptoms, news, more
changes, a vaccine, relief. Have I, have we also been waiting for God,
on watch for God’s presence, God’s action, God’s beckoning to us in all
that this time has held and revealed?
In today’s Gospel reading, a royal official begs Jesus to come heal his
dying son. Jesus’ initial reply is a verbal eye-roll. But the official waits
for the healing response he believes Jesus will offer and then, on his
way home, watches for the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise. He is not
disappointed, and his faithful waiting blossoms into faith itself.
I am reminded that I not only must wait—wait for my turn to be
vaccinated, for our return to in-person worship, communion, and
community, for justice to roll down like waters in our country. I also
must be on watch so I may see how and where God is acting and
healing, calling me to love and work, turning my hopeful waiting into
more certain, more responsive faith.
“For God alone my soul in silence waits;
truly, my hope is in God.” (Psalm 62:6)
— Margaret MohrmannMarch 3, Wednesday: Psalm 72 • Jeremiah 3:6-18
• Romans 1:28–2:11 • John 5:1-18
When I first read Psalm 72 to write a meditation for this year’s Lenten
booklet, memories of the past year and beyond ran through my mind.
Verses such as “The mountains shall bring peace to the people, and
the little hills, by righteousness” summoned images from Shrine Mont.
I remembered our fellowship and community as a parish surrounded
by nature’s tranquility and slower pace. I thought how different 2020’s
Shrine Mont weekend was in the face of a global pandemic and the
things that we cannot enjoy together as a church.
The psalm then reminded me of the challenges that we have experienced
firsthand—in Charlottesville, arising from the racist rally of August
2017; in our country, divisions signified by the attack on our Capitol and
continuing calls to end racism, sexism, homophobia, xenophobia and
anything that spurs divisions among us; and across our world, as these
same rifts and a surging pandemic threaten to tear us apart. God sees our
inhumanity towards one another and wants us to change our ways: “He
shall save the children of the needy and shall break in pieces the oppressor.”
Finally, I discovered hope in the words of Psalm 72. I found the
possibility that we may rise above these divisions, pain and oppression,
and the challenges that we face. I heard the refrain of so many other
Bible passages that our souls can find comfort through God, who can
help us confront evil and discord with sanctity and peace. Indeed, if
we are to move past what divides us to find the love that connects and
sustains us, we must focus on the hopes and compassion that bind us
to one another. Simply put, we must welcome God into our hearts to
renew our lives as a summer thunderstorm can renew even the most
humid summer day: “He shall come down like rain upon the mown
grass: as showers that water the earth.”
— Steve BoltonMarch 4, Thursday: Psalm 70 • Jeremiah 4:9-10, 19-28
• Romans 2:12-24 • John 5:19-29
Psalm 70 begins with a poignant plea for help. “Be pleased, O
God, to deliver me. O Lord, make haste to help me.” We can relate
to this desperate wish for help as we endure a worldwide pandemic, food
shortages, unemployment. The psalmist moves quickly into a desire for
revenge. He wants God to shame those who shamed him. This anger is
natural if not admirable. In the next stanza, the psalmist adopts a tone
that is at once placating and demanding. He announces, “God is great.”
He then beseeches God, “But I am poor and needy, incline your ear to
me and save me.” The psalmist wants God’s attention and intervention,
now. Many of us will admit a sympathy for our psalmist.
We progress from the Psalm to Jeremiah. We witness terrible
physical pain. Life seems worse than we could have imagined. Pain is
unbearable. The body reels with intestinal distress and heart irregularities.
“On that day, says the Lord, courage shall fail the king and his
officials; the priests shall be appalled and the prophets astounded.”
Who knew it could get this bad? It is an apocalypse! Misery prevails.
People who tried to obey the law surely feel betrayed.
We move on to the New Testament, reading from Romans. St. Paul
looks at the law and judgement. He suggests (I think?) that obedience is
more than a transaction between God and humankind. The Jewish people
will be judged by their obedience. Paul allows that other people (Gentiles)
may do what the law requires. By nature they know what is right and they
do it. The law is written on their hearts. We have moved from simple
obedience (which may be righteous or not righteous) to intent.
In John, we see the unity between Jesus and God. Jesus claims
equality with God! He cannot violate God’s will. He will make his own
decisions about the law. (For example, Jesus healed a crippled man on the
Sabbath, and he was deemed “disobedient”). We see a new relationship
between God and man. Jesus is of one mind with his father. They share
a consciousness. I hope they are in perfect communion. Through our
Communion, we share the body and blood of Jesus (his perfect sacrifice).
We offer to enter communion with all of life. We are approaching the
possibility of oneness. We look more for guidance than protection. We
may find joy even when we are suffering. You may be “astonished.”
— Nan MayerMarch 5, Friday: Psalm 73 • Jeremiah 5:1-9
• Romans 2:25–3:18 • John 5:30-47
“WARNING,” the reading for today is not for the faint hearted.
I am writing this on the day after the inauguration of President Joe
Biden and Vice-President Kamala Harris. One commentator I heard
compared the ceremony to a Church service. Perhaps that was because we
heard speakers including the President testify to the real, painful realities
we face as a nation. When we read Jeremiah today, he does not mince
words or worry that his readers will squirm and change the channel. But
that doesn’t mean it is easy to hear. This morning I read in the paper
descriptions of those Trump pardoned just as he was leaving office, and
the words of the psalmist rang true: “They are not in trouble as others
are; / They are not plagued like other people.”
But lest we start feeling too good about ourselves who didn’t get
a presidential pardon, here is Paul quoting scripture, those “oracles of
God.” “There is no one who is righteous, not even one; / there is no one
who has understanding, / there is no one who seeks God.”
Even John’s Gospel ends with the same dark note, “But I know that
you do not have the love of God in you.”
Is there such a thing as too much truth? Are we to be blamed for just
wanting to slam this book shut, not to mention skipping all those long,
gloomy articles in the New York Times? And yet . . . the inauguration wasn’t
all or even mostly gloom and doom, it offered the possibility of hope, of
a promising future.
In the first line from the Gospel reading for today Jesus says, “I can
do nothing on my own.” At the end of Psalm 75, the psalmist has looked
clearly at the world where the wicked prosper while those who, like the
psalmist, “wash their hands in innocence suffer.” Instead of going along
with those who think God is indifferent, the psalmist chooses to enter the
“sanctuary of God” and concludes simply, “it is good to be near God.”
“My flesh and my heart may fail but God is the strength of my heart and
my portion forever.”
One of the unexpected consequences of using Zoom for church
and other meetings is that I see not only the community but myself as
part of that community. (Is that really what I look like?) I am not “just
an observer” as Trump sometimes claimed to be, but part of something
larger, and perhaps with you a little nearer to God.
— Peggy GallowayMarch 6, Saturday: Psalm 76 • Jeremiah 5:20-31
• Romans 3:19-31 • John 7:1-13
Justification by Faithfulness in Establishing God’s Justice
In today’s Psalm, we read that God will take command, stop war,
and execute judgement in this world. Describing the arrogance and
the end of governments is certainly an apocalyptic worldview. The
literal definition of apocalyptic is uncovering; the uncovering of God’s
ultimate control.
In Jeremiah, we read how our world should be ordered. It is a call
to defend the rights of the poor. It is more than a call for us to do so
individually. Jeremiah is calling for this world to fear God and tremble
in the presence.
Whether or not you believe that God will, in an apocalyptic future,
literally rule this world, it is important when reading the New Testament
to understand that this was the worldview of Jesus and of Paul. It is
also important to recognize our limitations in understanding what those
worldviews were. Even something as simple as the word “faith,” the
correct but limiting translation of the Greek word pistis, can constrain
our understanding.
In my Thayer’s Greek lexicon, definitions of pistis and related words
take up over three and a half pages. Many of the example usages come
from New Testament scripture, and are imbued with New Testament
theology. But the earliest listed historical definition is trustworthy or
loyal, as in faithfulness. We could accurately interpret Paul’s writing as
‘justification by faithfulness,’ just as well as ‘justification by faith’. As
N.T. Wright writes in Paul and the Faithfulness of God, “Here
. . . we see part of the meaning of justification by pistis: strange
though it will seem to some, pistis is the badge that functions, within the
Pauline worldview, as the sign of membership in God’s people.”
Faith is not simply and only belief. Faith is not a hidden badge,
and God’s justice should not be hidden. And finally, as Jesus says in
John, “If you do these things, show yourself to the world.”
— Kelly CarneyMarch 7, Third Sunday in Lent: Psalm 19 • Exodus
20:1-17 • 1 Corinthians 1:18-25 • John 2:13-22
The law of the Lord is perfect
Reviving the soul
The precepts of the Lord are right
Rejoicing the heart . . . .
My heart is troubled
For we have strayed so far
From the teachings of the Lord
The commandments are clear
Yet our transgressions are many
The path is sure
Yet we wander, confused
The way of the Lord is often challenging
Jesus demands respect in His Father’s House
Yet we fail to honor one another
Oh Lord, open my heart
Plant wisdom in my soul
Let me not be foolish
Reassure me and forgive me my transgressions
Give me guidance and show me the way
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart
Be acceptable in thy sight
May my soul be revived
May my heart rejoice
Amen
[Written 2 days after the storming of the Capitol]
— Anne CressinMarch 8, Monday: Psalm 80 • Jeremiah 7:1-15
• Romans 4:1-12 • John 7:14-36
John 7:14–36
At this point in the Gospel of John, Jesus is a man with a price on his
head. The authorities are threatened by his teachings, and displeased
that he heals people on the Sabbath, a sacred day of rest. The authorities
are plotting to have him killed. Knowing this, and saying it is not yet
his time, Jesus attempts to avoid notice. He sends his disciples (his
“brothers” in the NRSV) along without him to the Jewish Festival of
Booths. Next, the text tells us that he follows in secret. Then, half way
through the festival, “Jesus went up into the temple and began to teach.”
(v.14) The Jews are “astonished,” questioning the truth of his teaching.
They scoff at Jesus, because he lacks the usual credentials to teach in the
temple. Others hear his words and believe him.
Jesus says, “My teaching is not mine but his who sent me. . . . Those
who speak on their own seek their own glory; but the one who seeks the
glory of him who sent him is true, and there is nothing false in him.”
(vv.16–18)
Now, Jesus has hardly avoided notice, and the Pharisees double down
to have him arrested and killed. The authorities demand that Jesus’
astonishing teachings be squashed, blotted out, and silenced. The
authorities are unable or unwilling to hear a truth that does not seek its
own glory.
PRAYER: Eternal God, we are ever grateful for the example of
your son Jesus, who shows us a truth that reveals you. Uphold us as
we seek your truth, O God, and grant us the courage and wisdom to
manifest your truth in our daily lives.
— Jim Plews-OganMarch 9, Tuesday: Psalm 78:40-72 • Jeremiah 7:21-34
• Romans 4:13-25 • John 7:37-52
Scene (John 7: 37–52): The Festival of Tabernacles, where the Hebrews
remember the wandering of their ancestors in the wilderness of Sinai. Water is
ritually brought to the Temple for seven days. It is the last day, when Jesus shouts —
Jesus: “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in
me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of
living water.’” (vv. 37–38)
The Crowd: Who is this? The Prophet? The Messiah? But nothing good
comes from Galilee! Look to the scriptures—the Messiah must come from David’s
city, not Galilee. They know nothing in that backwater, Galilee!
Living water is a powerful symbol, slaking the thirst of those who long
for something more than the fleeting relief of a cool drink on a hot
day. And living water is available to all who ask, even the downtrodden
Galileans. Even to Samaritans:
Scene (John 4:7–26): A hot day in Samaria, on the road back to Galilee.
Jesus rests near Jacob’s well when a woman comes for water. Jesus asks for a drink,
and the astonished woman wonders aloud at a Jewish man asking a Samaritan
woman for anything. Jesus responds:
Jesus: “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that is saying to you,
‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living
water.” (v. 10)
The Woman: Where do you get this living water? Are you greater than our
ancestor Jacob who gave us this well?
Jesus: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those
who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that
I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” (vv.
13–14)
Here, Jesus is an outcast, hounded out of Judea by the authorities. Yet
in Samaria, he carries the identity of a Judean Jew, entitled to shun
Samaritans. Jesus again and again overturns the hierarchies of society,
shattering the rules and roles of ancestry, religious orthodoxy, and even
family. His gift: the living water of the Holy Spirit, available to all who
believe.
— Charles LancasterMarch 10, Wednesday: Psalm 81 • Jeremiah 8:18–9:6
• Romans 5:1-11 • John 8:12-20
Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces
endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope
does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts
through the holy Spirit that has been given to us. (Romans 5:3–5)
“Hope does not disappoint” were the words written on my heart
and spoken silently on my breath for several months in early 2019 and
remain an inhalation and an exhalation to me now. My grandfather had
just passed away, leaving an unexpected hole in my life, my awareness
of the world. His relationship with his family was complex, sometimes
fraught, but also deep and vital. I was surprised when I was asked to be
a reader at his funeral in the Roman Catholic church where he attended
mass nearly daily but where I had never been myself. “Will you read?
Here’s the reading we’ve chosen.”
Sometimes we look at our relationship with scripture as a doing:
carving time out for Bible study, listening to readers during a church
service. Someone who knew my grandfather well but whom I’d never
met assigned Romans Chapter 5 when I needed the words most. In the
train north, “hope does not disappoint” seemed to match the rhythm of
every person who walked down the aisle of the train, the flight patterns
of the water birds flying by the tracks after we went through Baltimore,
waves sliding by along the Connecticut shoreline, and the sound of car
traffic on 95 at the train station as I waited for my dad to pick me up.
I was practicing the words mostly hoping not to stumble or have my
fear of public speaking take over at the service. In practicing the words
outwardly though, they dug deeper, and even on the train home I was
still breathing “hope does not disappoint.” Romans Chapter 5 did not
wave away my grief like a verbal magic wand. Slowly though, over many
months, with each breathing of the words, it did bring me closer to the
love of God that is poured into my heart whether I’m ready for it or not.
What words are written on your heart today? Is there scripture
that you can breathe in this challenging time?
— Maya CabotMarch 11, Thursday: Psalm 43 • Jeremiah 10:11-24
• Romans 5:12-21 • John 8:21-32
Then Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my
word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth
will make you free.” (John 8:31–32)
Having consulted the major modern English-language commentaries on
this passage, I cannot but remark the trend toward an ugly spirit of exultation:
Jesus offers a NEW IDEA that is NOT TO BE FOUND anywhere in the
Hebrew Bible: Take that, Old Law! Thou art evanesced!
As one who recently married into Judaism I find such Christianist
condescension disgusting. With anti-Semitism on the rise literally everywhere,
and with American hate groups claiming to be acting in Jesus’ name (as on
January 6), our beloved community might consider being more humble about
how often we abbreviate and underreport and otherwise elide our ritual and
theological debts to the Law, the Prophets, and the Writings.
Besides, in the first of the so-called Dead Sea Scrolls (1QS iv.20-21) we
read:
Then truth, which has wallowed in the ways of wickedness during
the dominion of falsehood until the appointed time of judgement,
shall arise in the world for ever. God will then purify every deed of
man with this truth; He will refine for Himself the human frame by
rooting out all spirit of falsehood from the bounds of his flesh. He
will cleanse him of all wicked deeds with the spirit of holiness; like
purifying waters He will shed upon him the spirit of truth to free
him of all abomination and falsehood (tr. Vermes).
Doesn’t that sound familiar?
Although these texts are not part of the canonical Old Testament, they
are irrefutably part of the intellectual inheritance of the Rabbinic community
in which Jesus lived and taught. We do badly when we ignore them—we do
even worse when we pretend that we are not ignoring them. In a year where
“truthiness” is the coin of the realm, I believe it is our Lenten duty to return to
the epistemological (and, dare I say, papyrological) foundations of our exegesis.
To quote from the great William Sloane Coffin an epigram familiar to
our parish: the world is too dangerous for anything but truth and too small for
anything but love.
May the verity of these words lead us to love, respect, and honor our
Jewish brothers & sisters.
— Matthew CarterMarch 12, Friday: Psalm 92 • Jeremiah 11:1-8, 14-20
• Romans 6:1-11 • John 8:33-47
Psalm 92:1 It is good to give thanks to the Lord
For many years our family celebrated Thanksgiving with two other
young families, all of us living at a distance from our original families.
The first year the hostess made name cards for each of us and on the
back printed a Bible verse related to giving thanks. With filled plates
before us, the host read his verse and then invited the person to his right
to do the same. The last person to the left of his father was five year
old David who had been coached by his mother. Instead of reading he
happily announced, “It is good to give thanks to the Lord,” invoking
joyful a cheer in the group. That passage continues in our home evoking
memories and making new ones.
This devotion is being written on MLK’s birthday beginning a week in
our nation unlike any we have experienced in our lifetimes. One year
ago on this day we began self-isolation beginning a year unlike any
other. It was clear from the beginning of the pandemic that this was an
opportunity to take stock of how life was being lived and consider how
we might reorder our lives. At times, true heartfelt thankfulness became
elusive. The Christian religion is one of love and is a summons to open
one’s heart to complete change.
Thankfulness in the context of current challenges requires special
attention. Dr. King taught and those who would listened. I learned, but
not nearly enough. The pandemic continues to teach. The year has been
a time to continue taking stock, to embrace the change demanded by
the current personal and societal challenges, all with a thankful heart
learning ever more what truly being thankful means and requires.
In sickness and in health It is good to give thanks to the Lord.
— Doris GreinerMarch 13, Saturday: Psalm 90 • Jeremiah 13:1-11
• Romans 6:12-23 • John 8:47-59
I, like many of us, often engage my faith as a respite—especially in recent
times. I read the stories, I listen to the sermons, I sing the hymns—
seeking that unfathomably deep peace that comes from the presence of
God. But oh, what anguish fills all four of today’s readings! What wrath,
what contrition, what conflict! Not one of these passages left me feeling
peaceful—at best, uneasy. God’s people beg for a few good days in their
brief, miserable lives. Jeremiah is shown God’s impending, destructive
anger against a stubborn and faithless people. Paul commands we
become “slaves” to righteousness. Christ, upon revealing his identity, is
labeled a demon and chased with stones.
The suffering of the world has been immense this last year. I will not
enumerate the reasons, as we all are acutely aware of them. It has also
been a lonely year for those who spent most Sundays of their lives in
the community of God, and I have longed for a way to share love with
my fellow Christians again. So I went to this meditation with joy in
my heart, expecting to find—and therefore, write—some promise that
things will be okay.
I did not find this promise. Instead, I found that life is short, we are
sinners who get what we deserve unless we obey, and that speaking the
truth might get you killed. Hardly that anything will be okay.
———
But if I know anything about God’s word, it’s that it is a blessing, even
when it is heavy. After some time, I returned to these texts with faith
that they held messages of guidance, if not comfort. And guidance I
found—to treasure the days I have on this earth, to stay alert to the
temptation of idols, to find freedom in submission, and to be ready to
risk everything for what is right. We are not promised “okay”—but we
will never, ever be alone. That is the promise.
— Virginia GreeneMarch 14, Fourth Sunday in Lent: Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
• Numbers 21:4-9 • Ephesians 2:1-10 • John 3:14-21
As we read this meditation, we are a year into the pandemic. Half a
million people have died. It has felt like one long Lenten meditation, one
long meditation on death. Overnight we lost communities and classrooms
and the intimacy of loved ones, and the joy of traveling and visiting. And
eucharistic communion! The litany of sorrows will never be exhausted. So
many sufferings and deaths have been experienced without someone to
hold our hand. Yet, we are promised, and we believe with a transcendent,
supernatural hope, that every pain and sorrow is held in the mind of God
as a mother holds her child.
What consoling words we read today in our holy Bibles, words that
issue from the mouth of our Lord and from beings inspired by God. In
Numbers we hear the children of Abraham, our antecedents, struggling
in the way of God, complaining of its difficulty. It is through the Red Sea
that they must pass. It is through the wounds of Christ, through the Cross,
that we must pass. It is so hard! Make it stop!
The children of God are being bitten by a fiery serpent that has been
“sent” by God. Many people of Israel die. In anguish they plead with
Moses, their heavenly mouthpiece, to ask God to send the serpent away.
What strange advice follows. God asks Moses to fashion a brass serpent
and put it on a pole. The author of John’s gospel tells us that the serpent
is risen on a pole, just as Christ is raised upon the Cross. And just as God,
through Moses, asks us to gaze upon the serpent and so be healed, we are
asked to gaze upon Christ and commune with his wounds. We are told that
these wounds are portals that lead unto Eternal Life.
What does all this mean for us? Perhaps there are infinite meanings.
One meaning we might glean from this allegory reminds me of a teaching
that Rumi, the great Sufi poet, gave his disciples. He said, “the cure for
pain is in the pain.” Look upon the thing you fear. Look upon the serpent.
Look unflinchingly at death. Look, O pilgrims, at my beloved Son, upon
the Cross of shame and infinite sorrow.
By the merits of the pain you suffered on the Cross, Lord Jesus, and
the ignominy you underwent to redeem us, give us each the strength, the
patience, and the courage to look at our sin and our shortcomings and our
death. Let us seek in the mystery of Your Cross our salvation. Bless us,
O Jesus, that we might always love you. Then, do with us what You will!
— Kevin WarrenMarch 15, Monday: Psalm 89:1-18 • Jeremiah 16:10-21
• Romans 7:1-12 • John 6:1-15
We are often invited to renew in one way or another. The resolutions
we might make at the turning of a calendar year, the initiatives and
aspirations of incoming legislative and executive administrations, and the
fresh faces, content, and hopes of a new semester at school might all
inspire us to “be our best selves.” Our worship reminds us that we need
not wait for a watershed moment to re-commit ourselves to follow Christ
as nearly as we can. As we confess our sin and ask forgiveness for our
shortcomings each week, and as we will one day again approach the Holy
Table for renewal, and not for pardon only, we regularly reaffirm our
baptismal covenant.
Today’s passage from Jeremiah 16 warns us of the consequences of
putting other gods before our Lord. Though we may be critical of another
who carries himself “after the imagination of his evil heart” (v. 12), we
would do better to look within ourselves to re-direct our own hearts. As
unkindness and injustice swirl around this land our home, can we model
kindness and be responsive to others who suffer injustice? Whether we
vote our consciences and encourage others to do likewise, contribute
coats or school supplies to those who need them, or simply offer a smile
and good word to a lonely neighbor, we must be “woke,” as some are
wont to say, to what God asks of us.
In the seventh chapter of his letter to the Romans, Paul writes that we
know sin according to the laws; trying to live up to a commandment such
as “Thou shall not covet” can lead one to “all manner of concupiscence”
(vv. 7–8) and other desires that draw us away from God. He rejoices
in our deliverance from the laws by the body of Christ, exhorting us to
“serve in newness of spirit” (v. 6). As we strive to uphold the earthly
laws that do justice for all, encourage change of those that fall short of
that standard, and, after Saint Francis, discern the wisdom to know the
difference, we “sing of the mercies of the Lord forever” (Psalm 89:1).
While we uplift all we might reach in our homes, workplaces, and
communities, we pray that, as John relates in the miracle of Jesus feeding
the five thousand (chapter 6), our goodwill might multiply in the hearts
of others, as the loaves and fish did on the grassy plain, and that our city
and nation might collectively renew our hope, promise, and calling as
children of God.
— Barry KeithMarch 16, Tuesday: Psalm 99 • Jeremiah 17:19-27
• Romans 7:13-25 • John 6:16-27
In a recent dream, I stood at the Holy Table, awaiting the wafer and
wine. Finally! To my left, parishioners I know and love circle around
towards the chancel. To my right, the space is empty: none from the
pews has joined me to complete the circle, and I am perplexed. Until I
realize with shock that I have no mask on.
I am confused. I don’t know what to do. I want to stay so that I may
receive, finally, the holy communion after these long months of waiting,
even though I also know it is not right for me to be here, unmasked.
I am caught between my desire—and shame, that I would insist on
receiving, regardless.
“Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures
for eternal life,” Jesus tells those who have found him mysteriously
transported to the other side of the lake in Capernaum (John 6:25-27).
I don’t know what will endure. I have been “making do” these many
months of living with the pandemic—not always faithfully—with
online offerings from St. Paul’s and other churches, with meditation
retreats, with the startling joy and grief in spiritual communion. I have
sought solace in the woods and fields, nourished by the rusty orange of
broomsedge streaking color into winter’s duff, my heart stirred by the
wild and tremulous call of the barred owl behind my house. I hope that
these wild things will endure, but this, too, is uncertain.
I have not always trusted in God that whatever is being made new in
me amidst the outer turmoil and in spite of my inner fears will emerge
from this chrysalis of longing. In my uncertainty, I am unmasked, caught
between the security of “before” and the invitation to trust that the
elements of my life are being reformed into a new, enduring life.
— Leslie MiddletonMarch 17, Wednesday: Psalm 119:121-144 • Jeremiah
18:1-11 • Romans 8:1-11 • John 6:27-40
Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go
hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
I always loved this passage. We find bread throughout the Bible.
Think of the Lord’s prayer—Give us this day our daily bread. Jesus
reminds everyone that the bread does not come from your neighbor
or your leader, such as Moses, it comes from the lord. The message is
that God provides. What is God providing? The entire passage may be
about bread but it is not about bread. Jesus’ message is about what bread
symbolizes—having faith.
Every day we go to work to earn a living. In effect, we put bread on
the table, pay the mortgage and the kids’ school tuition. Whatever it is.
What we need to understand, just like the crowd around Jesus that day
needed to understand, was that Jesus is present when we go to work if
we let that happen. How do we handle the day’s events? Jesus said to the
crowd that day he would be with each of us if we believed. Do you greet
those whom you deal with every day as if Jesus were there?
Some days when I was working in state government, I would get
very tired of the lack of progress in what seemed to me insurmountable
barriers to what could be simple solutions. Instead of leaning on Jesus,
I would just get ticked off and that did not help. Being angry did not
bring me closer to a solution. But if I took a deep breath, said a short
prayer, and asked myself, what does this person need in order for me to
go forward, I usually came up with a solution. The same was true when
I was a professor. When I was clearly annoyed at a tardy student or one
with too many absences, I lost that student. But if I paused, said a short
prayer, and talked to that student about what was going on in his or her
life, I sometimes helped the student resolve his or her difficulty.
Jesus came not to distribute bread but to distribute something
more enduring—belief in Christ. Jesus is the bread of life. And if we
let Jesus in, we can resolve issues that seem impossible. The bread is
the symbol of Christ’s body at communion. Jesus is with us Sundays
as we gather in his name and eat the bread and wine. What we need to
learn is that Jesus is with us every day, not just on Sundays when we take
communion. He is with us always if we let him in.
— Lynne WeikartYou can also read
