Lenten Meditation Booklet 2016

Engaging with God

2016

Lent Meditations

Table of Contents

February 10 (Ash Wednesday) February 11 February 12 February 13 February 14 (First Sunday of Lent) February 15 February 16 February 17 February 18 February 19 February 20 February 21 (Second Sunday of Lent) February 22 February 23 February 24 February 25 February 26 February 27 February 28 (Third Sunday of Lent) February 29 March 1 March 2 March 3

7 8 9 10 11 12 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30

March 4 March 5 March 6 (Fourth Sunday of Lent) March 7 March 8 March 9 March 10 March 11 March 12 March 13 (Fifth Sunday of Lent) March 14 March 15 March 16 March 17 March 18 March 19 March 20 (Palm Sunday) March 21 (Monday of Holy Week) March 22 (Tuesday of Holy Week) March 23 (Wednesday of Holy Week) March 24 (Maundy Thursday) March 25 (Good Friday) March 26 (Holy Saturday) March 27 (Easter Sunday)

31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 52 53 54 55

Lent is upon us. I can think of at least four ways to “do” Lent. I’d encourage you to avoid doing three of them.

The first way is just not to take it very seriously at all. I knew one wag who every Lent gave up . . . watermelon! While he invariably drew a chuckle, the fact is he also communicated that he’d get absolutely nothing out of Lent; that he’d not grow at all between Ash Wednesday and Easter. I want you to get something out of Lent!

The second way to see Lent is as a season of penitence. While there’s good ecclesiastical and historical precedence for this, I’m less and less convinced that God is that concerned about most of what we think of as our sinfulness. If there’s some serious wrong that you’ve committed and which besets your soul, then I encourage you to contact one of our clergy, talk it out, confess, and then make what amends you can to make things right.

And please know you can talk with somebody other than the clergy! The 5th Step of the famous 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous is: “Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.” The importance of acknowledging to another human being “the exact nature of our wrongs” is that that person’s face and attentiveness keep us honest. Note that the other person does not have to be a priest, though she may be. A good friend, a counselor, a mentor will also suffice. The important thing is that this be a person you trust, who understands the importance of confidentiality, and who is willing to hold you accountable.

But what if there’s no particular sin besetting your soul? We all of us, every single day of our lives, do little things we know we ought not do and do not do things we know we should, but should we make Lent a special time of doing something about it? I’d argue that we should be attentive to our “sin” every single day of our lives. So why make Lent a special time of penance?

Christianity is about so very much more than what Richard Rohr calls “sin management”. Christianity is about transformation – about resurrection! That goes far beyond managing our little temptations.

And that brings me to the third way I hope you won’t observe Lent. Lent is not simply a time of dieting, though many of us (myself much included) treat it as such. Truthfully, if you do observe a traditional Lenten fast (e.g., giving up all processed sugar and animal products), you will lose weight. But, as is obvious,

if you then turn around on Easter and resume eating the way you did before, the weight will simply return. (On this pattern I’m an expert.) Wouldn’t it be better to discern a healthy way of living that you can continue after Easter?

That brings me to the fourth way, the way I hope you’ll observe Lent. Think of Lent as a time of preparing to be transformed, of preparing to be resurrected with Christ. As the Apostle Paul put it, “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” (Galatians 2:19-20) In Lent we’re preparing to celebrate not only Jesus Christ’s resurrection but our own as well. “[W]e have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:4) What if Lent is a time in which we prepare to walk in newness of life by actually practicing walking in newness of life? Fasting is a good thing to do. Jesus prescribes and expects it! (Cf., Matthew 6:16-18) And certainly confessing one’s sin and one’s sinfulness is a good thing to do. I encourage both!

But what if you used Lent, not as a season to give up something, but as a season to take on something - a new practice which lends itself to spiritual renewal and rebirth, a practice you can continue after Easter as part of a daily regimen of seeking to improve your conscious contact with God? Perhaps you could take on daily morning and evening prayer, or you might set aside 20 or 30 minutes a day for centering prayer (there’s a plethora of literature on it). You might undertake daily Bible reading. There are some fantastic programs out there that will take you through the entire Bible in a year.

Here’s my basic point: rather than seeing Lent as a time of sorrow I suggest we see it as a time of preparation for being transformed, for being thoroughly overwhelmed by the sheer depth and scope of a God who loves us so much that he gave His very life for us, a life which He now offers us as ours for eternity!

Doug Travis Interim Rector

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February 10 Ash Wednesday

Bill Murray

Joel 2:1-2,12-17 | 103:8-14 | 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 | Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

As a father cares for his children, so does the Lord care for those who fear him. - Psalm 51:13

It all started innocently enough. Whenever my mom changed diapers, she would refer to them as “stinky pants”- most certainly an accurate if not descriptive euphemism. Well, when you grow up, like I did, with a brother who is two and a half years younger and a sister who is three and a half years your junior, you tend to hear the phrase a lot. I cannot claim that I was so much older or wiser at the time, but I had made it through the potty training process and was, luckily, not old enough to actually have to deal with changing those “stinky pants”.

We lived on a street with a number of other kids and used to play together often. As long as the weather was good, we were outside playing. One day we were playing with the kids on the blockI cannot even remotely recall the game or what we were doing- and something happened. To be honest, I can’t even recall what happened. All I can remember is that one of the other kids on the block made my little brother angry- very angry. Well, when you are young enough to have your diaper changed, you are certainly not very adept at fighting or cursing or really anything that has to do with conflict, but my brother proved himself inventive if nothing else. In his rage for this now forgotten transgression, my brother created a curse that still makes my family laugh today. Quite simply he said, “I hope you and your whole family get ‘stinky pants’!!!”

Today we begin that desert of the Christian calendar called Lent. It is the 40 days leading to Easter in which every Christian is called upon to give up something and turn to God. In that 6 week period, we are all asked to remove those barriers in our life and clear the path to God. In a way, Lent is a time when we are all told that we have stinky pants. We are reminded that we have made mistakes, that we have put things between each other, that we have sought other idols- in short, that we have sinned. Lent is a 40 day spiritual diaper change if you will. The time has simply come to clean ourselves up before we reach that holiest time of year- Easter.

We have certainly failed. We have not hit the mark. We have hurt our friends and our families and everyone we love. We have to try to do better. Despite all of the mess we can make of things God calls to us, “As a father cares for his children, so does the Lord care for those who fear him.”

God loves us as children. To focus purely on our sin is to effectively throw the baby out with the dirty diaper. God does not desire our death. None of you would get angry at your child for making “stinky pants”. You certainly hoped and prayed and worked toward the day when potty training occurred. God wants the same for us. We make error after error. I am sure God grows weary of many of our mistakes, but God cares for us as God’s beloved children. God wants us to get up and try again.

So, the challenge is not necessarily to give something up as you might conventionally hear. On the contrary, the hardest part of Lent is trying to, back to my slightly twisted metaphor, getting our spiritual diaper changed and getting cleaned up. We are all called upon to make changes in our lives that will bring us closer to God- by getting the negatives out of our lives and adding things like prayer, thanksgiving and love. So, as we begin this season of Lent, let us all move to make our relationship with God closer and pray that the curse of “stinky pants” pass over us and our families!

7

February 11

Chris Wiley

Hab. 3:1-10, 16-18 | Psalm 37:1-18 | Philippians 3:12-21 | John 17:1-8 The 2016 lunar cycle dictates an early start to Lent. I am conflicted with this compression of the liturgical seasons. Favorably, I welcome Ash Wednesday early in February; no point in procrastinating – I find myself needing the self-examination and penitential atmosphere.

Unfavorably, I protest Lent’s pushy arrival thinking that moving through most of these 40 days during winter is doubly cruel.

Our Adult Formation lens for Lent 2016 is “Engaging with God”. This meditation will not “check any squares” for my Lenten engagement, by any means. Reading and praying on these two selections is more akin to the opening incision of a surgical procedure. The difference between a medical and a spiritual surgery might be best seen in the outcomes. With the former, my knee’s connective structures are intact again; with the latter, my heart and soul are recharged and reoriented to stay engaged with God. The engagement’s goal being that I avoid rebuilding the scar tissue of excuses and sins that prevent being still and trusting in the Lord.

Both readings are bluntly hope-filled though the reward in them is not free. The Psalmist knows well the challenge of patience and righteousness, encouraging us to remain faithful despite the seemingly unending string of wicked triumphs. While it is not plainly said in the psalm, the implication is that the wicked prey on the righteous out of fear. Despite their successes and riches, the evildoers know their course is doomed. However, their pride and drunkenness perpetuate their nastiness. The scary part for me is to admit that I too often identify among the wicked. I am selfish with my time, my resources, and my love. I have told myself for too much of my life that I earned my accomplishments and personally honed my skills. None of it was possible without God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and a legion of souls who fed, sheltered, taught, and loved me.

Moving on to my engagement with Jesus’ prayer to His Father, the frankness, and urgency of the Christ’s supplication hits me squarely in the chest. Jesus knows his earthly time is headed to a concentration of torture and suffering that maybe, he fears, will be more than he can bear. I sense in Verse 5 that Jesus is asking God to be all the closer to him during his looming trial and execution – to help him have the strength and grace similar to the faith described in the Psalm.

Jesus’ intertwined humanity and divinity are both here in these verses just as they were during his walk on Earth. He loves those in his flock, and he advocates for their eternal life. While not wanting to leave them yet, he knows that his works are cultivated and “the heritage of the blameless will remain forever”. The next step in growing His flock demands a series of events that lay the bedrock for the future generations of Christ’s Body.

Holy Father, please engage me to see more clearly my selfishness and to dissolve my resistance to Your Will. You know, as you knew with your only Son, how to defeat the forces of evil and wickedness. I pray for my mouth to close when my ears and heart should be open. Amen

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February 12

Anne Howard

Ezekiel 18:1-4,25-32 | Psalm 95 or 31 | Philippians 4:1-9 | John 17:9-19 A childhood of Sundays many decades ago filled with stories of God our Father and the life Jesus of Nazareth and his parables and astounding deeds; Vacation Bible School where dappled sunlight lit up my path and playground on warm sunny days, where hymns and games replace the every day of regular wintery school…surely my engaging with God began then.

In adolescence, however, my growing understanding of “reality,” studies of the cumulative knowledge of modern civilization, comparative religions, history and philosophy challenged the divine vitality of the Bible stories and teaching of Jesus. Like others, I began to experience the stunning unraveling of a child’s beautiful world order. Miracles defying physics? Unending war?

Other sources of wisdom? My faith betrayed. Again. Religion gone the way of Santa Claus, the Easter bunny, the tooth fairy? So it seemed a long time ago.

Nonetheless, in the illuminated arc of light we inhabit, our day to day existence, in this small portion of the great mystery whose beginnings and end are shrouded in darkness – or at least unknowable by us – life asks that we seek again our engagement with God. The “kingdom of God” is less a royal, magical place, but a domain of sorts – a state of being where the love of Jesus is lived out, where individual actions and daily transactions can be imbued with a touch of the divine. Over and over we learn of God’s love and protection. It is here, in the good times and the bad, we seek again and are led to the profound courtesy that is love and is offered the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit (Isaiah 61:4). Here we are “called to boldly serve our family, neighbors and our God” as Bob Dannals stated recently. Through Him, we learn there is multitude of rebirths, second chances, and divine forgiveness. Miracles may happen.

So we begin this Lent already knowing the end of the story, OUR story, of the divine.

And we rejoice!

Oh Brother, fold to thy Heart thy Brother.

Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there.

To worship rightly is to love each other.

Each smiles a hymn, each kindly word of prayer.

So to the calmly gathered thought, The innermost of life is taught, The mystery dimly understood, The love of God is love of good; That to be saved is only this – Salvation from our selfishness.

Two poems by J. G. Whittier

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February 13

Lee Taft

Ezekiel 39:21-29 | Psalm 30 or 32 | Philippians 4:10-20 | John 17:20-26 I just finished David Brooks’ book The Road to Character. For Brooks, life is essentially a moral drama, a struggle against sin and for virtue. We know what is important, yet we pursue things that are shallow and vain. We overstate our strengths, justify and rationalize our failures. Yet, Brooks notes, we are splendidly and uniquely endowed with the capacity to struggle with ourselves.

Moral theologians call this thing with which we are splendidly endowed – this thing that inspires us to struggle with ourselves – synderesis. Scholastic philosophers distinguish between synderesis and conscience saying that synderesis is the “spark from which the light of conscience arises.”

This spark is embedded in each of us in our creation. We can choose to override our conscience, but we cannot extinguish the light from which that conscience arises. It is a spark “not extinguished from the breast of Adam when he was driven from Paradise.”

I left my law practice twenty years ago in order to enter divinity school. The decision to leave law included a difficult moral struggle. The struggle was not moral because of an inherent difference in value between law and ministry. After all, “there are heroes and schmucks in both worlds.” The struggle was a moral one because what held me to the law were the status, power and financial privileges I enjoyed as a lawyer. I felt engaged with God in that struggle, and I felt God’s tireless engagement with me. It seemed the harder I tried to hold on to the life I had, the more relentlessly the spark lit up my conscience. In the end, I left and went to school. My fears were realized – I have been downwardly mobile for nearly twenty years. And, still, I would never trade the life I have now for the life I had then, for my dreams to teach and write and dive deeply into life were realized too.

When I am struggling I am also praying, which is itself a challenge for a prayer cynic like me.

It is sometimes hard for me to get from my head to my heart; my intellect is sometimes more hindrance than help. And still I pray.

I’ve been wondering if there is more to synderesis than the Scholastics realized. Does its spark ignite more than my conscience? Could synderesis explain the efficacy of prayer? Could the spark in me call to the spark in you? Could your spark call mine, call those who have the power to help?

Several years ago a whale was caught too close to shore and beached. No one noticed. Other whales came to help but they, too, were beached. Soon there were so many beached whales that their sheer number attracted the attention of some humans. Rescue efforts were launched, and the beached whales were saved. Experts said that the whales were responding to the sonar emitted by their brother. Do whales pray?

Moral struggle. Prayer. Action. Here is where I engage with God, and where God engages with me.

Why do people keep asking to see God’s identity papers when the darkness opening into morning is more than enough?

-Mary Oliver

10

February 14 First Sunday of Lent

Kathy Jenevein

Deut. 26:1-11 | Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16 | Romans 10:8b ? 13 | Luke 4: 1-13

You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, Will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.”

Because you have made the Lord your refuge, the most High your dwelling place, no evil will befall you, no scourge come near your tent.

For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.

On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone. You will not tread on the lion and the adder, the young lion and the serpent you will trample under foot.

Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name.

When they call to me, I will answer them With long life I will satisfy them.

And show them my salvation.

This past year, I have engaged with God more than ever, for many reasons, but mostly through you, the living members of our beloved Parish. I have engaged with God in that I see Him in your faces. People speak of St. Michael as the Big Tent parish that makes room for folks of myriad viewpoints, and all thrive together and appreciate the differences. Perhaps Psalm 91 addressing God’s protection is perfect for us as we join together “in the shelter of the Most High.” St. Michael is a strong and positive community actively engaging with God in most delightful ways.

Our St. Michael community is actively engaged with making other, less blessed communities better. A shining example is found in Jubilee Park, where it is a treat to see the face of God in the people there and in the faces of the St. Michael parishioners working there. This happens over and over in our works outside, as well as inside, the walls of our church. We are a community of hope and expectation with every reason to be optimistic. Jesus taught us to pray “OUR Father, …”, and our works demonstrate our desire to bring ALL into the shelter of the Lord, to engage with God. Internally at St. Michael, we face the important task of seeking a new leader for our Parish.

Churches everywhere face a culture that repeatedly turns away from engaging with God at houses of worship. The comfort of Psalm 91 is almost as important to us in our task as it has been for centuries to soldiers in the battlefields. While we don’t encounter soldiers’ battlefield traumas, we do confront a significant change in the life of our church. Psalm 91 lifts up me, a meager soldier in the struggle to “not dash [my] foot against a stone” during our search. “I will protect those who know my name. When they call to me, I will answer them.” I know God will respond, and I find that our Parish is God’s hand holding mine as we call to the Lord for our answer.

Those parishioners who pray, thoughtfully, the prayer for the Rector search in church, and those who visit the Bishop Moore Chapel to light a candle and pray for our search, lift me up. They are as “angels concerning us to guard us in all our ways.” The parishioners who answered our fall survey and those who attended our town halls represent our beloved community that “bears us up” to God for deliverance. As Jesus bids us in Luke 4, we will not test the Lord; those of us commissioned to find our next Rector will indeed do the hard work tasked of us with diligence.

With the faith of this wonderful community, God will deliver to us the right leader. And St. Michael will continue its long life as the loving, strong community that is the “refuge and fortress” of so very many.

11

February 15

When despair for the world grows in me

And I wake in the night at the least sound

In fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

Rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

Who do not tax their lives with forethought

Of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

Waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

-The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry I recently read an op-ed letter in the Wall Street Journal written after the Paris bombings. The writer cited the many bombings around the world, the prevalence of guns, the violent fanatics everywhere – and then suggested that we acknowledge that the world is a dangerous place and proceed to live our lives.

It was not a Pollyanna, facile piece. It simply suggested an attitude toward a life based not in fear and reactive anger, but one based in hope, trust, and affirmation.

I have no idea how to make the world a safer place. I do know that bad things happen. And most worrisome things are just a part of everyday life: health, finances, security, loves ‌.

12

Shelly Vescovo Genesis 37:1-11 | Psalm 41 or 52 | 1 Corinthians 1:1-19 | Mark 1:1-13

But, as one of my favorite essayists, Monica Furlong has written (and I paraphrase): There are very few Christian certainties except that the pattern of crucifixion and resurrection are written across our lives.

When lying awake with concerns for myself, for loved ones, for the world, how do I break the spell that fear has over me? How do I find that still and trusting place? How can I possibly experience the freedom that grace is?

I believe that it comes to me in part because of years of practice: prayers, reading scripture, reading poetry, friendships, worship, journaling, questioning, finding solace in nature, conversing and trying to live life consciously. It comes to me because, in good times and bad, fruitful times and dry, I have found that the theme for Lent – Engaging With God –more reliably comes when I have practiced. Sometimes well. Often times not. Never with perfection or even reliability. But enough.

Fearfully hiding in a cave from the assaults of life, Elijah finally heard God in a “still quiet voice”.

When I find myself consumed by reliving or regretting the past or fearing the unknown that is all of our future, I realize I can only find peace in the moment. Now is when I can engage God, and God engages me. Now is when I can open myself to the experience of grace. And only now.

Ever present God, when life seems to be overwhelming, help me to remember that you are a God of resurrection, especially when it is so easy daily to forget. Help me remember that you are the final word, and we can trust ourselves and all we love to you. Amen

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February 16

Kate & Dana Juett

Genesis 37:12-24 | Psalm 45 | 1 Corinthians 1: 20-31 | Mark 1:14-28

Engaging with God – We are told we are created in the image of God, the divine. When people bow and say “Namaste” they are honoring the divine within the other person. Sometimes that is no easy task, and yet at other times, it is a great privilege. Accepting that God lives inside each of us is certainly a way of engaging with God. Sometimes it is far easier to grasp the divine in others than it is to find it in ourselves. Most often, it takes years of exploring and digging to discover and embrace this God-given gift.

We must remember that Jesus was both human and divine, and it is his life that we model and from which we learn. There are certain people that Christ’s light shines through brightly and others that have, unfortunately, hidden, or don’t even recognize, the precious gift.

During this Lent, when we engage with each other, may we try to remember that every encounter we have with one another is time spent with God. In doing so, may we each find our own Easter song.

Lead Me On Take me as I am.

Lead me on.

Lead me on through the Lenten wilderness into the Easter song.

Take me as I am filled with hope, filled with fear.

Take me as I am, and lead me on.

If I stumble in the dark sing the notes loud and strong.

Sing ‘em out.

Sing ‘em clear.

Sing the notes so I can hear.

Lead me on.

Lead me on through the Lenten wilderness into the Easter song.

-Alice L. Smith

14

February 17

John Lang

Genesis 37:25-36 | Psalm 119:49-72 | 1 Corinthians 2:1-13 | Mark 1:29-45

Then they sat down to eat, … and Judah said, “What profit is it if we kill our brother and conceal his blood? Come let’s sell him …” …(they) took Joseph’s robe, slaughtered a goat, and dipped the robe in his blood …and (took it) to their father …”MY SON’S ROBE” …all sought to comfort him …but … (He said,) “No I shall go down to Sheol to my son, mourning …”

O Lord, was it I who so wanted approval of my father that I could not see how my brothers were offended?

O Lord, was it I who was so jealous of my brother and so wanted the love of my father that I could sacrifice their happiness, could be an instrument of their hurt?

O Lord, was it I who so feared my brothers’ ostracism that I could not challenge a collective act whose evil would infect my heart for eternity?

O Lord, was it I who was so enamored of my favorite son that I was blind to the harm surrounding me, to those unloved and neglected?

And was it You, O Lord, who so watched over me that despite myself I prospered?

And was it You, O Lord, who planted love in my heart, quenching the world’s anguish, and empowered me to share Your spirit?

And was it You, O Lord, who so mysteriously numbered our days that in our ignorance we would remember the power was never ours, but Yours?

And was it You, O Lord, who so loved us that in our deepest despair we might find reconciliation and hope?

15

February 18

Mary Ann Wester

Genesis 39:1-23 | Psalm 50 | I Corinthians 2:14-3:15 | Mark 2: 1-12

When I first think of the season of Lent and all that we may think of giving up or all we might contemplate taking on, I remember the addition of the Great Litany to the beginning of our liturgy.

(Pp. 148-152 BCP) That Litany is so all encompassing about where we go wrong, what God desires, and it covers the multitude of things that our lives should demonstrate as well as all our prayer lives should contain. We might possibly just work with those five pages and find ourselves a challenging Lenten season.

The Scriptures appointed for today called to mind similar thoughts. Some of them get quite specific and thus force me to a greater honesty with myself. When you are doing an examen at the end of a day or for a pre-Easter confession, do you have a hard time remembering your transgressions?

Sometimes I seem to be able to let myself off pretty lightly. As I read Psalm 50 today, I initially get comfortable when the sacrifice for which God asks is the sacrifice of thanksgiving. God goes on, “Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you and you shall glorify me.” Sure, I think, this sounds great.

And then just like some of the verses of the Litany, here come some specifics: my lack of discipline, casting God’s word behind me, making friends with a thief, keeping company with adulterers. Ok, some of those are not going to be on my list, but the best must have been saved for last: a mouth given free rein for evil, being deceitful, sitting and speaking against my kin even slander against your own mother’s child. Some of these I can recognize too well. But the relationship with God is set out succinctly in vs. 22-23: when you forget God, there will be no one to deliver you; if you maintain the relationship with thanksgiving and honoring God, you will be shown salvation.

The God shown in Psalm 50 is powerful. Our fate is in the hands of God, and yet it all comes down to God’s desire for a relationship with us. And like the Great Commandment, the complete love of God is commanded along with loving our neighbors as we love ourselves. The power of God demonstrated by Jesus in Mark’s story of the healing of the paralytic is the same power as the God of Psalm 50: the power to forgive sins - being shown in the making whole or full physical healing of the paralytic. Those observing that day knew that God was the only one with the prerogative to forgive sins; so, who was this Jesus who performed a healing miracle and then equated calling the man to health and the forgiveness of his sins? The story in Mark brings to mind the power of loving one another as part of our love of God. Those friends who first cut a hole in the roof of the home and then lowered down their friend in need of healing show strong confidence in the power of Jesus. A theme of relationship evolved as I read these Scriptures. We likely feel we need to strengthen our relationship to God during this season, but the paralytic’s friends bring to mind how essential to the coming of God’s Kingdom is the care and love we show to one another.

Gracious God, help us always to remember that you, our Creator, desire relationship with us.

Give us the wisdom in accepting this great gift so that we remember to give you thanks. Knowing, too, that you desire our love for one another, keep our eyes on that knowledge and help us guard our speech so as to guard both the relationships among us but also with you. AMEN

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February 19

Scott Wilson

Genesis 40:1-23 | Psalm 95 or 40 or 54 | 1 Corinthians 3:16-23 | Mark 2:13-22

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? . . . Do not deceive yourselves. If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise. For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God.” — My kids are about to leave elementary school, and I can tell they are growing up fast. As parents, we want to teach our kids to survive in the world. But as Christians, we are called to stand apart from the world—to be in the world but not of the world.

I think back on some of the neat, thoughtful things we read in school. Perhaps my kids will read some of them as well someday soon: works that encourage one to step back from the world of individual trees and see the forest. Things like the wonderful short story “The Other Side of the Hedge” by E. M. Forster. Or the cautionary dystopian novels like “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin and “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley. In each, the reader is compelled to reflect on the nature of the world, one’s place in the world and one’s reaction to the world.

Our modern culture is pretty dispiriting. With each technological advance, we seem to become more separated from meaningful interaction with each other. We are also inundated with media (both traditional and self-generated so-called social media) that reinforce the idea that we will never be attractive enough, rich enough, well-travelled enough, etc. But what does our culture suggest is the remedy? Answer: Strive to become rich, beautiful, young (ha!) and famous!

Remain that way as long as possible!

Christianity is fundamentally countercultural. That is the reminder in the epistle reading for today.

What the world values is not what God values. A Christian remedy to our culture is to be reminded that these worldly concerns do not ultimately matter. They are, in fact, foolishness. God wants to be connected to us – to hear our prayers, to be with us in our darkest valleys, to give us strength in the face of adversity, to bless us when we help those less fortunate than ourselves, to move among us when two or three are gathered in His name, to help us be a light in the world.

God’s Spirit dwells in us! Disentangle yourself from the foolish values of this age. Work to discern why God has placed you on Earth at this time and in this place. You are here for a reason, and your loving God awaits you.

Dear Lord, help us to step back from the values of current culture. Fill us with a sense of your indwelling Spirit. Guide us to lead meaningful, fulfilling lives. To the glory of your Name. Amen.

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February 20

Jennifer Alexander

Genesis 41:1-13 | Psalm 55 | 1 Corinthians 4:1-7 | Mark 2:23-3:6

When my husband’s younger sister, Elizabeth, asked him to donate a kidney to her, I simply couldn’t help but see that God was engaging us. Profoundly.

For the transplant, John and I would travel to her - to the University of Virginia hospital -and be gone from home for almost four weeks. We would have to find someone to take care of our younger son, still at home and at a school new to him. Who would help us? Teachers who had never met him (or us) volunteered to stay at our house. To this day, we count them not just as friends, but as family.

Our plans all organized, I welcomed the opportunity to be in a place where no one knew us.

Things were well beyond my control. Surrounded by strangers, I might more easily process what was happening - in solitude. It’s hard to be the patient; but in a different way, it is hard to be the one who watches and waits.

A very special friend sent us off with what she called the “nurse magnet” - a basket filled with chocolates, so that day or night, someone on staff would drop by John’s room for a piece of candy and check to see if he needed something. We were grateful that we rarely had to ask for help.

Precious others sent notes, cards, emails, and called as well. What a comfort! We also marveled at people (we had never met) who sent encouragement and at churches (we didn’t know) that had placed John and his sister on their prayer lists.

The evening before the transplant, John and I went to a service at an Episcopal church on the edge of the UVA campus. When it was over, the priest caught us to ask if we were the Alexanders. So much for my cherished anonymity! He had received a “note” about our visit there and had been looking everywhere for us. He said they would come to the hospital the next day.

And indeed, they did. And the day after that. And so on.

I did not meet John’s doctor until after the transplant was complete. Both surgeries were successful.

Although the surgeon had been operating for well over six hours that day, he talked to me as if he wanted to do nothing else but answer my questions and concerns. Clearly he was passionate about this life-giving ministry; he told me he never ceased to be in awe of transplantation, how it could turn sickness into health. But this doctor also understood that his healing skills came from beyond himself. He felt privileged to play the part he could in his patients’ lives. And I, for one, was ever so thankful for this humble man!

Why had I so stubbornly held onto my doubts?

As we all are faced with our own challenges, health-related or otherwise, I pray that each of us might be granted the courage and strength to trust God like the Psalmist in today’s reading and the wisdom to engage with our loving God.

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February 21

Second Sunday of Lent

Diana Newton

Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18 | Psalm 27 | Philippians 3:17-4:1 | Luke 13:31-35 It is in my nature to stay busy. Obviously, I like being engaged on myriad projects, working with teams, and juggling multiple tasks; but I usually fail at slowing down, even when my goal is to do less. The technology that has evolved exponentially over my adult life does not aid me in my battle to tame my nature. The instantaneous “read and respond without thinking” aspect of daily communications both at work and in my personal life threaten to deluge my efforts to slow down with a tidal wave of MORE, and much of it, trivial.

For me, Lent is an oasis in this crazy, go-go paced world we live in. I look to Lent as a chance for me to try to reclaim thoughtfulness in my life, along with a quiet space where I can meet God. Lent reminds me not only to stop and think, but also to pray AND listen to God’s response! The listening can sometimes be the most challenging part. This Lent, I am making an effort to engage in prayer more vigorously, more intentionally, and more quietly. I strive for a quiet listening to God and less talking by me. This listening is not only necessary for my walk with Christ, but it is also fundamental for my role on the Rector Search and Transition Committee as we try to discern who God wants us to choose as the next Rector of our parish.

I seek the spiritual freedom to surrender the anxiety of too long a to-do list and too many emails to read, let alone return to God, so that I can be available to Him in the moment. I hope for the spontaneity of prayer throughout my day. I look for the constancy of a prayer life that embraces the whole of my life and not just my Sunday life. Join me this Lent in slowing down and making quiet space in your daily life for God to speak to you.

“Hear my voice when I call, O Lord; be merciful to me and answer me.” Psalm 27, v.7

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February 22

Greg Pickens

Genesis 41:46-57 | Psalm 56, 57 | 1 Corinthians 4:8-20(21) | Mark 3:7-19a

We all have events in our lives that make us question our beliefs. I am old enough now to have experienced many of these. I was already a friend of death early on, so the passing of a parent, two friends, and many relatives never had the power to push God out of my grasp. The circle of life was more comforting to me than problematic to my faith for whatever reason.

My first two years in seminary were wonderfully challenging. Grappling with languages long since reduced to academic study produced a satisfying exhaustion. It was not an issue with my studies that sparked my trouble with God; human beings were responsible.

I was to graduate early so my Bishop could send me to minister in Africa, and so my fifth and final semester I was very social. I had put in the work and I felt like now was the time to really enjoy the people who surrounded me. I had a friend from another diocese who was unmarried, as was I. We were as close as the efforts to earn a Master’s Degree would allow. It turned out that my friend had decided to pursue the wife of a married student. No need to go into the specifics but just know that the end was very public and very painful for a small cloistered faith community. The aftermath was so white-hot that the woman needed a doctor’s care for several months afterward.

I was so shocked about this – the whole community knew each other rather intimately. We might not all have been best friends but we spent so much time together in class, chapel, and social settings on campus it just didn’t make sense. I asked the same questions that you might come up with as you read this. Why? How could a strong faith community have such a cancer as this?

Where was God? To confound us even more, my friend still publicly claimed he was called to the priesthood.

All this had made me sick to my stomach. I carried all to prayer, and I received…nothing. No word of wisdom, no answer, no response in that season of pain. God did respond, but in a time when I could hear wisdom again. When humans sin intentionally, it is almost as if he or she shoves God out of the way. Of course, God is still very much present, even when we want what we want. But it turns out that, even in the hardest of times, God finds a way to soak back into a person’s life. Romans chapter five has this wonderful verse, “…God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us.”

We all do things that do not honor God, even priests. And yet in the middle of our silliness, our brokenness, and even the evil we participate in, God continues to call us to love and reconciliation and healing. It is different for everyone, but this remains the hardest truth for me, the most confounding promise to get about God. I still wrestle with it because I don’t understand it, but I am so grateful for God’s grace in Christ. “But there for the grace of God go I.”

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February 23

Ross Badgett

Genesis 42:1-17 | Psalm 61, 62 | 1 Corinthians 5:1-8 | Mark 3:19b-35

Joseph is a man of strong conviction. He’s been through numerous trials, including being sold into slavery by his own family and being falsely accused of adultery and put into jail. Trials that harsh would change an average man. An average man (or woman) might suffer from depression or have self-esteem issues. He or she might give up on life or abandon religion. Not Joseph.

As we meet him in today’s passage from Genesis, he’s risen to the top of Egyptian society. He is the Pharaoh’s trusted advisor, his second in command, with the foresight to protect Egypt from starvation during a seven-year famine. And, at a basic level, Joseph is the same as he’s always been, with the same sense of morality.

That’s what makes some of his behavior with his brothers so curious to me. To this point in Joseph’s life, his actions have been above reproach. He’s demonstrated an intense desire to do what he believes is right, even when the consequences negatively affect his situation.

While I can only imagine all the raw emotions tumbling through Joseph’s mind in this moment, it’s like Joseph forgets himself upon seeing his long-lost brothers in Egypt. Joseph interrogates them and concludes, abruptly, that they must be Canaanite spies. Their door prize is three days in prison, and their party favor is an extended stay for Simeon while the rest of them make the long journey back home, only to quickly turn around and make the journey back to Egypt again.

On one hand, this seems so incongruous with everything Joseph stands for. If his M.O. is simply to be the best person he can be, how is this right action?

On the other, imagine how much worse Joseph could have made things for his brothers. A lesser man (or woman) in Joseph’s position might have sent them away without food or sold them into slavery. Joseph is fully justified for not welcoming them with open arms. Heck, lex talionis for being sold into slavery leaves a wide range of possibilities for the vengeful.

So, what can we make of Joseph’s actions here? Is he playing a prank on his brothers? Is sending them to prison a moment of catharsis after years of carrying deep emotional scars?

Perhaps something in between?

While I can’t speak to Joseph’s motives, I think one important takeaway from this story is simply that Joseph is human. To this point in his life, he’s mostly exhibited a superhuman capacity for forgiveness and for acting in accordance with his moral compass, but he’s really no different from the rest of us. He has an out-of-body reaction to the situation like any of us probably would, but in the end he realizes that he doesn’t get to be the ultimate arbiter for his brothers’ actions.

We all strive for self-betterment, and we’re going to make lots of mistakes along the way. We’re human, after all. But God is always walking alongside us, and there are no wounds too great to be healed. We spend too much time passing judgment, and not enough time working to put aside that sense of self-righteousness that enables judging, while inhibiting forgiveness and graciousness. Joseph stands as an example of how we can recognize and make up for our bad moments graciously, as we’ll see later in the story.

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February 24

Celise Stephenson

Genesis 42:18-28 | Psalm 72 | 1 Corinthians 5:9-6:8 | Mark 4:1-20

We are at the communion rail in the early morning in the little red church parked in the black dirt out in the farms. My father is kneeling. The sun comes in yellow through the windows and shines on me. My father holds me in his arms, waiting his turn. I try to see along the rail around the people kneeling in a line. I can see the white robe the priest wears and hear it swish. I can see his fingers, then his face. He is the one my father calls Paul when they are alone at the meadow with their boots on the fence.

I lean forward. My father’s hand comes in surprise-warm and soft over my mouth. So I stick out my tongue and he moves his hand. But Paul has passed me by, and I miss my turn. I watch my father up close.

I think they will shake hands over the rail in the yellow sun, but instead, Paul has a blank eye and he holds out the flat dry thing. And I do not want it now, but my father sticks out his tongue anyway. I turn away. +++ Even when I do not know the ones who come along the rail, I look them full in the eye, and I take the flat dry thing in my hand and eat it. I am grateful not to be passed by. I am relieved not to stick out my tongue. I do not turn away.

I can cry, if I want, at my turn at the rail. God will take me as I am and echo my intention. God and I are bound together at the rail, I in my father’s arms and God in the sun, both howling, aching to be known.

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February 25

Tom Rhodus

Genesis 42:29-38 | Psalm 70, 71 | 1 Corinthians 6:12-20 | Mark 4:21-34

And Jesus said, “What shall we say the Kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it?” With many parables, Jesus spoke the Word to them, as much as they could understand. He did not say anything to them without using a parable.

Why did Jesus always speak in parables? When we don’t have words sufficient to describe something, we fall back on metaphors and similes to get the point across.

When Jesus talked about God the Father or God’s Kingdom (as he frequently did), he knew that none of us could possibly understand. So Jesus fell back upon imperfect comparisons, trying to find things familiar to his audience that shared some similarity to God or to God’s Kingdom.

So (for example) Jesus said that the Kingdom of God is like . . . a mustard seed! Not that the Kingdom of God and a mustard seed are very much alike, but they do have this in common: both the Kingdom of God and a mustard seed grow in unlikely places and give unexpected shelter to creatures in need of help.

Of course, I cannot describe God. But I can tell you a little what God’s healing grace feels like.

It feels like electricity.

A long time ago, when my younger son was just a baby, he had spinal meningitis. It is a dreaded disease. He was in Children’s Hospital for about two weeks. For a while, his life was in the balance. Then the doctors said that even if he survived, he might be blind or mentally impaired.

At that time, St. Michael’s had a priest by the name of John Drake. Fr. Drake knew everyone and called them by name at the communion rail: “Tom, the Body of Christ. Debbie, the Body of Christ.” And so on.

During one of those dark days at Children’s, Fr. Drake stopped by the hospital room. After chatting a few minutes, he asked us to join hands for a prayer for healing. In the midst of a prayer, I felt something like a small jolt of electricity in both hands. I asked Fr. Drake if he felt it too. He just smiled.

From that day forward, things started looking up. Not a single one of the doctors’ grim predictions came to pass. I am happy to report that the little baby is now a healthy six and a half feet tall, earned degrees from some of the world’s best universities and has a wonderful a family of his own.

This did not happen by accident. It was God’s work. God was in the hospital room that day, and he left his presence be known -- a sign so that I would know it and not forget it.

Father, help us to feel your presence in the miracles, both small and great, that surround us daily.

Amen.

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February 26

Byrd Teague

Genesis 43:1-15 | Psalm 95, 69:1-23, 31-38 | 1 Corinthians 7:1-9 | Mark 4:35-41 me, the closest I have ever felt to God was at the monastery of Saint John the Evangelist in To Cambridge, MA. I went there several years ago on a verger retreat. It was my first time to go, and, right before I left, I had feelings of apprehension and a sort of fear. I think it was the thought that there would be no talking, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to accomplish this. When we arrived, the noon service was going on. We went in and listened. The church, which was fresh from a big re-do, was spectacular. The mica in the stones sparkled because they had just been cleaned and a feeling of peace overwhelmed me.

We stayed about three of four days and it was one of the most magnificent experiences I have ever had. There were many church services each day (about 6, I think). The brothers chanted all the psalms and other parts of the service, and there was truly an amazing spiritual feeling. During communion, the priest would start by giving the bread to the first communicant and then he or she would offer it to the next person. The wine was passed in the same way. It was truly the sharing of the body and blood in community with others. The brothers make the bread in the monastery, which made it even more an experience I had never had.

When we weren’t in a church service, we were either in a conversation with Brother Robert discussing the first verse of John, “In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was God.” If not in our study group, we would be in our rooms: tiny cells with a single bed, a desk and a lamp. I went to the library and took some spiritual books to read and sat there experiencing the message of the book. The feeling of peace was amazing. Or you could go outside - which was freezing in January - and take a walk. There was no snow, but it was very windy on the banks of the Charles River – not like our 60 degree days in Dallas.

The meals were all silent. We had plain but delicious meals while one of the brothers read to us from a current book, one I had already read but loved hearing again.

The entire experience of many church services a day, quiet meditation and reading and just being away from the rat-race of every-day living was an amazing experience. I long to go back for another dose of it.

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February 27

Matt Waller

Genesis 43:16-34 | Psalm 75, 76 | 1 Corinthians 7:10-24 | Mark 5:1-20

Mark’s Gospel provides a model for “Engaging with God,” our meditation theme this Lent.

Just as Jesus arrives, a demoniac runs to him, as if called, and his demons inside beg Jesus to let them be. Jesus calls the demons out, sends them into a swineherd and casts them off a cliff into the sea. The demoniac, now healed, begs to stay with Jesus, but Jesus commands him to go to his friends and tell of the Lord’s power and mercy.

Like the demoniac, we too are inhabited by demons, perhaps a legion of them. When they overwhelm us and we can manage them no more, we come to a crossroads – hopefully to Christ.

Our demons may not have outward manifestations, and we may not be chained physically, but we howl and are bruised by them just the same, like the demoniac.

We think we come to Christ by our own choosing, but we have been called. In all we do, if we get quiet and look, we will find a seed planted in our hearts by the Holy Spirit calling us to Christ.

Even as we come to Christ, we will resist his call to throw out our demons. As much as we hate them, we know and are comfortable with them as compared with the unknown to which we are called.

When we finally Engage with God, give up our will and accept God’s will and healing power, much like the herd of swine plummeting into the sea, we will experience healing, grace and a calmness of Spirit.

But that isn’t the end of the story. As we Engage with God, we want to stay close to God and bask in the glow of his power and love, but instead we receive our marching orders – to “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.”

So as we prayerfully Engage with God this Lent, let us offer up our demons and receive God’s graceful mercy, but then, most importantly, respond to our Lord by going out into the world and witnessing to Christ’s loving and merciful movements in our life, and, by doing so, plant the seeds that may draw our friends to Engage with God. Gracious God, We thank you for planting the seed that calls us to you and for the Holy Spirit that assists us to respond. Help us to heed your call to engage with you, to allow you to cast out our demons, and to claim your strength. Give us the courage to go out and proclaim your loving mercy and grace to our friends. We ask in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, Amen

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February 28

Third Sunday of Lent

Mary Kardell

Exodus 3:1-15 | Psalm 63:1-8 | 1 Corinthians 10:1-13 | Luke 13:1-9 reading the parable of the fig tree, I am reminded of the importance of patience in our daily lives.

In The questions “when are things going to change” and “why haven’t they changed when I want them to change” are on our minds. Engagement with God in our lives takes time, nourishment, study, and worship to truly bear the fruit of faith in Jesus Christ. If we dedicate ourselves to growing in our spiritual lives, we will see God’s hand everywhere we turn.

Thinking about the short-sightedness of the landowner in the parable, I sometimes think we don’t give ourselves or others enough time to bear fruit in our own lives. We get caught up in what stands in our way and lose sight of what God is trying to show us.

O God, thou art my God, I seek thee early with a heart that thirsts for thee. I am safe in the shadow of thy wings, and then I humbly follow thee with all my heart. Amen

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February 29

Connie Webb

Genesis 44:18-34 | Psalm 80 | 1 Corinthians 7:25-31 | Mark 5:21-43 was a dark and stormy night. Snoopy, the World Famous Author, is nowhere in sight.

It The clock reads 4:14 a.m.

From the sixth floor, propped up in bed, a fresh cup of coffee in hand, I am looking out through a wall of glass, the audience to one of the greatest shows on earth. How small yet grateful am I? Earlier, the air in the room had changed, awakening me as the front moved in from the west- the softer rains just beginning.

As the level of downpour and the wind speed change, the live oaks nod to the invisible power, massive canopies alternately upright and bending wildly. These magnificent trees – we depend upon them for life itself. How small yet grateful are we?

Lightning occasionally splits the greenish sky and thunder claps unrestrained. My senses are heightened and I am caught up in the transcendence of the moment.

In the storm, God is at hand. A beautiful, fearsome, life-giving power emanates, reminding that we are in control of nothing. How freeing is that? Just how small yet grateful are we?

Like Snoopy’s other alter ego, the World War I Flying Ace, we all have dreams of significantly changing the course of world events while sitting atop our tiny domains - scarves blowing in the invisible wind. Our actual lives are much smaller and not nearly as exciting. That we exist at all is a miracle to which satisfying responses are to be grateful now, and, when presented with the creative power beyond ourselves, sit back, be aware, and be awed.

If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown!

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

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March 1

Charlie Stobaugh

Genesis 45:1-15 | Psalm 78:1-39 | 1 Corinthians 7:32-40 | Mark 6:1-13

How is God using me today?

What is God’s great plan for me and how can I access the faith, courage and strength necessary to meet challenges that oftentimes seem unfair and insurmountable.

To Joseph, it must have seemed like God had turned away and forsaken him when, at a very young age, he was sold into slavery by his brothers. His fear and grief must have been devastating.

Surely he was angry at God for allowing such a tragic circumstance to befall him.

To us it can seem like the worst thing that could ever happen when life unfolds before us and we have to join a 12 Step program, suffer through a divorce or death, or face a difficult diagnosis that frightens us beyond words. Our fear and grief and anger at God in those times can be as great as Joseph’s was, and we can feel as abandoned by God as Joseph did.

But many times difficult circumstances are part of God’s great plan for us - a plan that we cannot foresee or understand - oftentimes for many years. It was many years before Joseph was able to see how God was using him. Joseph was being used for the greatest good of many…..for ultimately saving the lives of his people and to ensuring a remnant and a great band of survivors.

Could Joseph have ever guessed how God was using him when he was first sold into slavery in the middle of his grief and pain? I think not.

And so God uses us too in ways we can never imagine. Many times I have been bewildered about why the challenge? Why me? Why now? It can be years before I am able to see God’s plan for the greatest good for all and, yes, even for me. It might be that I am going to be present for others experiencing similar difficulties. Or it may be that I am to be an example of how to face difficulties with dignity and grace.

What life has taught me is if, like Joseph, I am willing to suit up, show up, and do the next right thing, with the rigorous help of my faith community and through the power of the Holy Spirit, I can find the faith, courage and strength to trust in God’s plan and be sure that I will be given exactly what I need to triumph in the face of adversity. And more will be revealed to me as needed and as I become ready to know. As the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous tells us “Just to the extent that we do as we think He would have us, and humbly rely on Him, does He enable us to match calamity with serenity”.

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March 2

Oliver Butler

Genesis 45:16-28 | Psalm 119:97-120 | 1 Corinthians 8:1-13 | Mark 6:13-29

“Hey! Am I talking to a brick wall? For the third time, did you or did you not flood the swim team locker room on purpose?” Once again, we all just stood there in the principal’s office looking at the floor in fear. Finally, one of the older students sheepishly let out a “huh?” The principal followed with, “Well, I guess you’ll all be suspended and kicked off the swim team. I can’t have this conversation by myself.” We all wised up, and frantically and apologetically confessed at the same time. Luckily, we were dealing with a seasoned educator who decided a stern warning and a thorough cleanup would teach us enough of a lesson – this time. We later found out he had been dead serious about the suspension and removal from the swim team. For a couple of the seniors, that would have meant not getting a swimming scholarship – the greater consequence.

For the team, the decision (albeit through persuasion) to engage the principal in his office worked out better than not returning a dialogue about a (successful!) juvenile prank. The benefits of mutual engagement opened up the possibility of a different result. Of good news.

God decided to engage his people long ago, and he did – all the way back in the book of Genesis in the garden. Throughout the Old Testament, God engages Israel again and again through various covenants: with Noah, Abraham and Sarah, Moses, and David – in the hopes of restoring his relationship to Israel. None of these covenants were particularly helpful because they failed to permanently accomplish that goal. In fact, the prophets came to try and get Israel’s attention and convince Israel to engage God through these covenants, but their lack of faithfulness was too much (Jeremiah 7:1-15). Jeremiah prophesied about a new covenant, a King who would usher in God’s kingdom. This new covenant (new “testament”) would be ushered in by Jesus – the King/ Messiah/Christ. In him, we have a new engagement of God – one that is even more personal and permanent. God comes to us in person, this time, to save us.

As Christians, we have a God who has always engaged us. But we have also always been free to ignore God, or to put God in a drawer or on the back burner until we need something. Part of this is human nature. But part of the truth in this is that engaging God is on us. God has done and continues to do His part. There is a direct correlation between our sense of spiritual fulfillment or peace/joy and how we purposefully engage our Lord. The more we say “yes” to the invitation to walk through life with Jesus – not just when our religious civil duties beckon us two or three times a year, or even on Sundays – the deeper our relationship with him goes. The less we engage him, the more we’ll feel like we are just going through the motions when we do decide to reach out. He desires us – our whole selves - not a thoughtless religious obedience. Religious acts are part of our worship of Him, but should be understood as part of the larger life of relationship with God. He wants our hearts, our hopes, our doubts, and our faith.

Lent is a perfect time to remember that God went out of His way to engage us, to make it easier for us to return that engagement. It was costly, as we’ll remember vividly on Good Friday. On Sunday, we proclaim His resurrection. Yet, that is just the beginning. He calls your name like did Mary’s as she stood in the empty tomb (Jn. 20:16), wants to meet us on the beach for breakfast, like He did with his disciples (Jn. 21:1-14), and show Himself to you like he did to Doubting Thomas. (Jn. 20:24-29). He came into the world to engage the world. He was resurrected so the world – then and now – could engage him back. This is the Good News, worthy to be taken off the shelf, moved from the back burner to the front, and into your life, your heart, and daily walk.

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March 3

Judy Cole

Genesis 46:1-7,28-34 | Psalm 83 or 42, 43 | I Cor. 9:1-15 | Mark 6:30-46 The Gospel reading for today is Mark 6:30-46, the first Miracle of the Loaves. Most of us probably remember that miracle as the feeding of the five thousand with only five loaves of bread and two fish. Surely that is something that only God and Jesus can do.

But what does that say to us? How does that small amount of food feed all those people? Jesus blessed the food and gave it to the disciples to distribute. Are we to do the same? What is the food we are to distribute and to whom?

For me, there is a message about the power of faith, faith to follow what God has given us to do no matter how impossible it seems. And there is faith in our fellow man since, like the disciples, we are often just a part of the story.

Sometimes we do not even know until afterward that God has used us to his purpose. It is only in looking back that we know that God’s hand was guiding us. He has put us in a place or situation for a reason. We may never know the reason but we can sometimes see the result.

My prayer is for God to open our hearts to his call and to use us as instruments of his love. I pray he will forgive us when we fail and help us to know that his love extends to all.

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March 4

Sallie Plummer Genesis 47:1-26 | Psalm 95, 88 | 1 Corinthians 9:16-27 | Mark 6:47-56

A small bronze plaque has hung on our hearth for years. Written in Latin, it translates to Bidden or unbidden, God is always present. That has never been more evident than this last year.

December 2014, my husband, Brown, was in the hospital in critical condition. Emergency surgery stopped the bleeding, and Christmas in the hospital gave new meaning to the miracle of the season. Home for New Years and then a rushed return to the hospital for forty days. Brown and I both felt God’s warm embrace, carrying us through the long days and nights. It was joyous to have him home.

God is present!

The respite was short lived.

Shrove Tuesday found me back in a hospital with my son in critical condition. A law student at SMU, he had a high fever from a viral infection resulting in a seizure. Standing at the top of his stairs at the onset, he fell fracturing his back in four places. The ensuing fourteen days found me moving through a gamut of emotions. A brilliant young man with a servant’s heart. Why? God patiently carried us through as prayers were answered.

God is present!

May brought a diagnosis of terminal cancer for Brown and home hospice became our new normal. Plans were put in place, conversations were had. God mercifully had given us the peace to accept what was to come. The walk home had begun.

God is present!

October that peace was shattered by a phone call that jd, my son, was back in Baylor and was being rushed to surgery: another seizure on his way to class ending with his head hitting a concrete curb. A spiking fever added to the complications. The first surgery was to remove a portion of his skull to allow for swelling of the brain. The second, twenty hours later, was to stop the bleeding that had continued. Nineteen days in ICU, six days in a coma, pneumonia, three times we were told he would not survive, two more surgeries. The list grew daily. God, what could you be thinking? “Be still.” God patiently walked each step with me and carried me when I could not go another step. I was surrounded by loving friends and a caring Church family. The mighty prayer warriors of my Bible study continually prayed me into the light as “I walked in the valley of the shadow of death.” The miracle for my precious boy was in motion.

God is present!

Christmas miracles abounded in December 2015. Brown was here to celebrate and to welcome in the New Year. jd was walking perfectly and running once again. His trauma team calls him the miracle man. There are still miles to go but hope fills the air.

God is present!

My walk in the wilderness of hospital corridors and the breathtaking unknown has reaffirmed for me that it is only through Him all things are possible. I have surrendered my overwhelming desire to fix what is broken and entrusted what is to come to God. I am weak. He is strong. I give thanks.

God is present!

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March 5

Jeff Rice

Genesis 47: 27-48:7 | Psalm 87, 90 | 1 Corinthians 10:1-13 | Mark 7:1-23 April of last year, our first grandchild was born. As she has begun to develop, her parents have In started taking her to the Joy Mass. As a member of the altar guild, I have had an opportunity to serve at the Joy Mass on many occasions and have always enjoyed it very much. I appreciate the understanding that the children get by hands-on participation in the liturgy and thereby engaging with God. They are enthusiastic about everything!

Now that I can attend it with my granddaughter, it has taken on an even deeper meaning because I can see her develop and see the happiness she shows in being there. She is totally engaged and seems to know in her baby way that God and everyone else love her for sure! The opportunity that this provides for her to grow in that knowledge is special.

My daughter and son in law have commented on how engaged the little children are with the liturgy when they lead the prayers of the people, share God’s Holy Meal and process the Jesus Book.

Throughout the week, we all are bombarded with sadness and consternation on a regular basis.

We suffer stress and have fears and anxiety. Yet a little child can help us calm down and focus on what is important. We are all important to that little child, and we are all children of God and important to Him. I can see and feel and engage with God when I am in the Joy Mass in the presence of these wonderful Children of God.

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March 6

Fourth Sunday of Lent

Pamela Theodore

Joshua 5:9-12 | Psalm 32 | 2 Corinthians 5:16-21 | Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Sin, it seems to me, is being separated from God, separated from others, and separated from my own true self, which is made in the image of God. To be forgiven of my sin, I must first be honest with myself. Yet I am very good at rationalizing, justifying, and blaming others for my actions. I am like ‘a horse or a mule, without understanding’, stubborn in my denial.

And yet, I can relate only too well to the Psalmist; “while I kept silence…Your hand was heavy upon me…” I don’t want to look to the truth; You won’t leave me alone in my sin.

Even in my self-justification, God lays a heavy hand on me night and day, pushing me down to the truth that I bury deep inside. Because even when I separate from God, others, and my true self, God never separates from me.

When I finally tire of the suffering of self-deceit and acknowledge to myself the actions that I, and only I, have done, I find the strength to acknowledge my sin to God. As a Christian, I confess my sin. In the words of the Psalmist, “I acknowledged my sin to You, and I did not hide my iniquity; I said, I will confess my transgressions to the Lord, and You forgave the guilt of my sin.”

Once I confess, and God forgives, I experience anew the joy of relationship, not only with God, but with others whom I have harmed, and with my true self-made in God’s image.

The words of the Psalmist here voice the experience of one who knows she has been forgiven, “Happy are those whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. Happy are those to whom the Lord imputes no iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit.”

The only appropriate prayer at this time is a prayer of thanksgiving: Holy and gracious God, thank you for laying Your heavy hand on me while I was stubborn in my sin and denial.

Thank you for forgiving me of my sin, once confessed.

Help me to stay close to You, that I may not suffer the loneliness and burden of self-deceit.

Amen.

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March 7

Irwin Sentilles

Genesis 49:1-28 | Psalm 89:1-18 | 1 Corinthians 10:14-11:1 | Mark 7:24-37 I usually shy away from Paul -- not sure why. But I am drawn to the reading from First Corinthians, and I cannot seem to shake it off. I find there three passages that strike me: a famous one, “we who are many are one body”; one that could be a school motto, “Do not seek your own advantage, but that of the other”; and a puzzling one, “do everything for the glory of God.” They somehow must fit together. But how?

I am impressed that Paul is addressing a real-life issue here, even if there may be metaphorical overtones in the passages. In the Corinthians’ world, where much of the food was made available from cultic sacrifices to idols, what could a Christian eat? Put another way, more applicable to our times I guess: how is a Christian to live in a society organized around “worldly” values?

Interestingly, Paul does not provide one answer, but many. His fundamental insights are played out in varying circumstances and lead to differing actions. Paul’s ethic is principles-based, not rules-based, with his principles (the passages above) invoked by him when appropriate over the course of his reflection.

Look at the Christian community, Paul says. Central to its life is the sacred meal. Whatever separates individuals is somehow overcome in the sharing the meal entails. This is a comforting notion, but how does it provide an orientation for action in the world?

Ever realistic, however, Paul understands that any community, even a Christian community, involves differences. Paul says that whatever those differences, our orientation should be first to others. How we do that, of course, is not necessarily intuitive or free from uncertainty.

So Paul then invokes the “glory” of God as another orienting principle. I doubt that attending to this “glory” is about praising the divinity. The glory of God is, as I picture it, more about what radiates from God that illuminates the reality we call God, perhaps even participates in some way in that reality. And what is that reality? Throughout the scriptures, it seems to be characterized as love. The Psalm for this day makes sure I do not miss this by referring often to God’s “steadfast love” and “faithfulness.”

So, whatever the circumstance, I must always act out of love, not to the exclusion of myself, but with an orientation beyond myself to the other, including the possible differences there. Knowing what to do out of love, of course, can itself be difficult. Individual relationships can be messy.

What seems instinctively right may be wrong. And relationships that create communities can be complicated. And community-oriented action can be prone to unintended consequences.

Thankfully, Paul’s reference to the glory of God may present not just an ethical orientation, but some comfort, too. Paul may be saying that if I am oriented in love in all things, my orientation is at least rightly aligned -- in line with the loving reality underlying everything -- even if I often act less than optimally.

Lord, may our orientation always be to the ultimate reality of love. Amen.

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March 8

Karen Wiley

Genesis 49:29-50:14 | Psalm 97, 99 | 1 Corinthians 11:17-34 | Mark 8:1-10

Father, we thank thee who hast planted thy Holy Name within our hearts.

Knowledge and faith and life immortal Jesus thy Son to us imparts.

Thou, Lord didst make all for thy pleasure, didst give us food for all our days. giving in Christ the Bread eternal; thine is the power, be thine the praise.

-Hymn 302, verse 1

The ancient Greek text, circa 110, of this familiar Communion hymn, captures many of the themes of today’s readings. It is in the sacrament of the Eucharist that we communally engage with God most intimately, receiving the Body and Blood of our Savior Jesus Christ. The good news is that this encounter is available to all on a daily basis at Saint Michael.

The Psalter is the hymnbook of ancient Israel though no trace remains of the tunes to which the verses were set. The psalms are of many types: songs of praise, trust, penitence, thanksgiving, lament, teaching devices and salvation history, royal psalms and those like today’s which extol the Lord as King. In Psalm 97, despite fearsome descriptions of God’s presence, we are encouraged to rejoice in the Lord and give thanks to his Holy Name. Psalm 99 continues the theme with the repeated refrain “He is the Holy One.” Both are reminders of God’s power and are a call to worship.

In the passage from Mark, the feeding of the four thousand, Jesus has compassion on the crowd because they have been with him for three days and had nothing to eat. There in the desert, undaunted by the scarcity of resources and the doubts of his disciples, he blesses and breaks the seven loaves and distributes a few small fish. The result is abundance for all, a foreshadowing of the abundance of God’s grace available to all in the Eucharist.

Paul’s letters to the congregation at Corinth provides instruction and in some cases correction for things done and left undone. He had heard of their divisions and factions; nothing new to us today! The common meal was being celebrated in an unworthy fashion, so Paul reminds them and us of the origin of the meal. “For I received from the Lord what I also delivered to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it, and said ‘This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me. This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.’ ” Let us pray: Watch o’er thy Church, O Lord, in mercy, save it from evil, guard it still, perfect it in thy love, unite it, cleansed and conformed into thy will.

As grain, once scattered on the hillsides, was in this broken bread made one, so from all lands thy Church be gathered into thy kingdom by thy Son. -Hymn 302, verse 2

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March 9

Lowell Duncan

Genesis 50:15-26 | Psalm 101, 109:1-4, 20-30 | 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 | Mark 8:11-26

Isn’t it wonderful that we’re all different? This world would be a mighty boring place if we all looked alike, thought alike, enjoyed the same things. Variety, it’s said, is the “spice of life.” But our differences sometimes lead us into conflict and controversy.

That’s pretty evident in this season of presidential politics. Isn’t it interesting to see which friend or neighbor is drawn to which candidate, to which philosophy. But, what happens when our neighbor’s opinions are totally opposite of ours? All of a sudden, they weren’t as smart as you thought they were. They are the “L” word or the “C” word. “Oh, if they only saw things the way I see them... support the candidate I support.”

Consider that maybe God uses our differences, our conflicts, to help achieve His purposes. As Joseph (of the coat of many colors fame) told his brothers, “you planned evil against me but God used those same plans for my good...life for many people.”

• If the Puritans hadn’t been persecuted for their religion in England, maybe what is now the United States of America wouldn’t be ... “one nation, under God, with liberty and justice for all.”

• Candy Lightner’s 13-year-old daughter was killed by a repeat DWI offender in 1980. She formed Mothers Against Drunk Drivers. Before MADD, there was little or no legal consequences for driving while intoxicated. Today “designated drivers” are commonplace, new businesses have been formed (Uber), and thousands upon thousands of lives have been saved.

None of us really like conflict, or hard times, or tragedies, or uncomfortable situations. But they visit all of us from time-to-time. I am convinced that God does not cause evil, bad things, to happen. And, I know that God is there to walk with us with comfort, reassurance, compassion, and love when they do. And, it’s really comforting to realize that God just might be able to use those times of turmoil for something good.

As the psalmist says, “My mouth’s full of great praise for God, I’m singing his hallelujahs surrounded by the crowds, for he’s always at hand to take the side of the needy, to rescue a life from the unjust judge.”

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March 10

Elizabeth Keogh

Exodus 1:6-22 | Psalm 69: 1-23, 31-38 | 1 Corinthians 12:12-26 | Mark 8:27 ? 9:1

Recently I attended a service almost unthinkable to most - the funeral of a freshman girl who had taken her own life. I sat in that holy space and listened to Rabbi Stern speak poignantly not only to her family, but to all of the children, teachers, and friends who had come to honor and mourn her.

His words touched everyone’s heart directly and sincerely as he basically said that no one was to blame. No one could have loved her more, no one missed a sign and it wasn’t that her friends weren’t listening. It was that there was a pain so deep that no one else could see it or know it. This brought the room to tears as he also spoke glowingly about her talents in music, her passions and her smile that could “bring peace to the Middle East.”

Even the Rabbi could not get through his words without a long pause. He also read Psalm 15 that day which seemed written for that very day. It was indeed a very engaging day with God as we all wondered “why?”. Rabbi Stern said that we might never really know.

It was that hour that taught me, a 43-year old woman, that you never truly know what is inside the head, heart, and soul of someone else. The night before I learned of her death, I had seen a re-post from a Facebook friend that caught my attention. In fact, I saved it to remind my girls, not knowing that it would happen in a conversation that very next day regarding a classmate who was gone.

“Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be Kind. Always.”

And it is through being kind to others that we are also engaging with God, even in the smallest of situations. We are strengthening our relationship with God in choosing positive words and actions.

We can’t know how one small act of kindness might greatly affect one person. It is also our words that can make a very positive or negative impact on someone and shape that relationship.

In closing, I invite you to read Psalm 15: A psalm of David.

1 LORD, who may dwell in your sacred tent?

Who may live on your holy mountain?

2 The one whose walk is blameless, who does what is righteous, who speaks the truth from their heart; 3 whose tongue utters no slander, who does no wrong to a neighbor, and casts no slur on others; 4 who despises a vile person but honors those who fear the LORD; who keeps an oath even when it hurts, and does not change their mind; 5 who lends money to the poor without interest; who does not accept a bribe against the innocent.

Whoever does these things will never be shaken.

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March 11

Anne Coke

Exodus 2:1-22 | Psalm 95, 102 | 1 Corinthians 12:27-13:3 | Mark 9:2-13

I’ve been thinking about the assignment given me here: to write about engaging with God. What does that mean? I think of the word “engagement” and it suggests two people making a commitment. It suggests to me a dialogue, not a monologue. It is a two-way street flowing to and fro in both directions.

So how do we engage with God? Immediately I think of the Psalms, those voices from ages past engaging with God which can speak to and for us today.

One of the Psalms assigned for us today is Psalm 95, which begins, “Come let us sing to the Lord; /Let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.” Psalm 102 asks for help; “Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come before you; / hide not your face from me; when I call answer me.”

The Psalms run the gamut of human experience vis-á-vis God; they ask, they thank, they praise, they beg forgiveness, they try to bargain, they ask for mercy, they retell past mercies. And being human songs, they can exhibit schadenfreude, wishing ill befall enemies. They show humans engaging with God; “I praise you, I thank you, you are with me, you comfort me, you accompany me, I’m sorry I messed up again, forgive me.”

And how does God engage with us? In myriad ways. One way is his engagement of our eyes and hearts. William Everson, a poet also known as Brother Antoninus, writes of God’s notes strewn about his creation for us to read. He speaks of “The matchless God-writing calligraphed unendingly on trees, peaks, rivers, oceans, lakes.” Here is a “note” sent to me: I remember some years ago, a time when I was on the border of despair (surely where God did not want me to be), I was walking in our neighborhood by a large green grassy field, and saw a rabbit leaping in bold parabolas, nothing pursuing him, just exuberant bounding. It was, it seemed to me, as if he felt wonderful being a rabbit, taking pleasure in his rabbitness. And this not only made my day different, but infused me with joy, the despair evaporated, and I was given a renewed thankfulness for God’s word, his creatures, and his glorious Creation. This is one way God engaged me, by way of my eyes and heart, saying, “Take cheer.”

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March 12

Mark Demler

Exodus 2:23-3:15 | Psalm 107:33-43, 108, 1-6 | 1 Corinthians 13:1-13 | Mark 9:14-29

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love. (emphasis mine) 1 Corinthians 13:4-13

Chapter 13 of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians is one of the best-known and most popular of all scripture passages. If you are like me, you immediately think of these verses being read at weddings and a sentiment given to the new bride and groom to help memorialize their union. In fact, Terry and I have a framed piece of art with these words that was given to us as a wedding present. Although the marriage union signifies love between couples, there are countless ways love permeates our lives regardless of marital status. My life is enriched by many family and friend relationships that have love as its foundation. My hope is that yours does too!

But Paul says, “Love never ends”. This statement in Verse 8 changes the perspective, because, often, as much as we try, our love has boundaries, limitations.

As humans, our relationships can ebb and flow with the intensity of love we choose to apply.

Paul’s words in Corinthians speak of a different kind of love: God’s Love. God’s love is the ultimate and only enduring love. In our daily worship and every time we recite The Nicene Creed, we profess our belief in this love: the love of a merciful God who forgives the sins of those that are penitent. This Lenten season offers us yet another opportunity to reflect upon our relationship with God and how we engage with Him each day. The result of this relationship and His enduring love is salvation!

Paul’s message in Verse 13 is an important summary: Only three things unite us everlastingly with God: Faith, Hope, and Love; “and the greatest of these is love.”

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March 13

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Kalita Blessing

Isaiah 43:16-21 | Psalm 126 | Philippians 3:4b-14 | John 12:1-8

From the readings today, the one that struck me the most was the gospel reading in John 12:1-8.

Mary, in her gratitude for Jesus having saved her brother Lazarus’ life, chose to honor Jesus by bathing his feet with the most expensive and exquisite perfume. By some estimates this perfume cost as much as a year’s wages - a small fortune.

Mary gave all that she had and with selfless devotion. What gratitude she exhibited!

Mary bathed Jesus’ feet. In those days it was the lowly task of a servant to wash a guest’s feet.

What great humility, Mary exhibited!

Mary wiped Jesus’ feet with her long hair. In the day, respectable Jewish women never let down their hair. What lack of self-consciousness and pride!

We are called to give all that we have to honor Jesus with gratitude and selflessness, and Mary did just that.

Where do I see myself in this story, as Bill Power often pressed us to consider in his Bible study?

Truthfully, and sadly, I identify more readily with Judas - the one who judges. Judas asked why would one waste such an expensive treasure on bathing Jesus’ feet? Why not sell that perfume and give those dollars to the poor?

Many times, great faith requires us to be bold.

This passage causes me to consider again how far am I willing to go to honor our Lord?

“Grant us such awareness of your mercies we pray, That with truly thankful hearts we may give you praise, Not only with our lips but in our lives, By giving up ourselves to your service And walking before you in holiness and righteousness All our days.”

Prayers of the People, Book of Common Prayer

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March 14

Hunter Ruffin

Exodus 4:10-20, 27-31 | Psalm 31 | 1 Corinthians 14:1-19 | Mark 9:30-41

Today, we are near to the beginning of Holy Week. Our Lenten journey is drawing to a close, and yet the road that we must walk still seems so far from our destination. We find ourselves 6 weeks into our Lenten disciplines, and we may also have a sense of wondering where we are being led.

In the Gospel according to Mark, we are given a reading that includes a passion prediction as Jesus and the disciples journey up to Jerusalem. Within Mark’s text, there are three passion predictions that are nearly identical in their structure. This particular passion prediction is the second of the three and marks the halfway point of their journey up to Jerusalem and the start of the passion narrative in Mark’s text. Within the narrative, Jesus tells his disciples, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” Of course, as is predictable within Mark’s text, the disciples do not understand what Jesus is talking about and are afraid to ask him what he means by these strange words.

As the narrative continues, we are given one of Mark’s definitive teachings about discipleship and what it means to follow Jesus. As they near the end of their journey for that day, Jesus asks them what they were arguing about on the road, but the disciples were silent and did not want to tell Jesus that they were arguing about who was the greatest among them. Here, Jesus gives us clear directions for what it means to be his disciple. We, like the disciples, are called to become servants by welcoming the least in our midst. Children, in the first century, were meant to be invisible. They had no voice within society until they reached adulthood, and they were one of the most vulnerable groups of people within society. Thus, Jesus’ statement that “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me” is a call to become servants of the vulnerable in our midst.

The call to discipleship is just as countercultural today as it was during the first century. The call to discipleship is a call to de-center the self in order to hear the call of the vulnerable, the poor, the hungry, and the sick. It is a call to practice the virtue of humility if we understand humility as knowing the truth of one’s place within creation. We are called to practice the virtue of humility in such a way that, through the power of love, we are able to exercise our power within creation while also respecting the power of another. If we hope to be successful in practicing humility, we must know the gifts that we have been gifted by God and share those gifts in such a way that we are able to celebrate the giftedness of our neighbor. It is through humility that we are able to truly love our neighbor as ourselves.

What are the gifts of the Spirit that have been gifted to you? Can your giftedness become the answer to another’s prayer? Can you welcome another’s gifts of the Spirit as an answer to your prayer? How is Christ calling you to practice your gifts through the virtue of humility?

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March 15

Kay Whelan

Exodus 5:1-6:1 | Psalm 121, 122, 123 | 1 Corinthians 14:20-33a, 39-40 | Mark 9:42-50

Typically the Psalms are the first place I turn to in the Bible. Their poetic beauty resonates in my heart, and I love to hear them sung during our worship services. Over the years, I have found my favorites, some of which I can recite from memory and some that I often turn to as prayers.

One of the most special to me is Psalm 121 with its beautiful assurances of God being the true source of help and our Protector from all of the dangers of the day and night. The psalmist encourages us to put our trust in God and not to rely on ourselves or others to solve all of our problems - so hard for those of us who want to take charge and sometimes fall into the trap of believing that we can fix everything!

When hiking in the mountains and surveying God’s wondrous creation, I often have verse 1 pop into my head in both a very literal and majestic sense: “I lift up my eyes to the hills/ from where will my help come?” As I am going “up” those hills I climb, whether it be the hills of challenges in Dallas life or the steep terrain of a mountain in Colorado, I find great comfort in being reminded that “My help comes from the Lord/ who made heaven and earth.” What a powerful answer to our anxious thoughts about challenges we or our loved ones face – there is no other true help in the midst of the most difficult moments in life that is not from God. When we offer our help and compassion to others in crisis, we have the opportunity to act as God’s messengers.

In verses 3-4, we are reminded that He will provide a strong foundation and will keep our feet steady if we trust in Him and open our hearts to His protection. “He who keeps you will not slumber nor sleep” is the assurance that God never sleeps but is watching over us by both day and night.

The Lord is our “keeper” who shades us from all harm in the day or the night, and in verse 7 we read that He “will keep you from all evil/ he will keep your life.” These comforting words speak to the profound and constant presence of God throughout our lives, echoed in the final verse: “The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.”

Reading this Psalm to my mother during her final hours helped me to calm my own anxieties, and I hope helped her to feel God’s protective loving presence and peace through that part of her life journey.

In the context of our Lenten theme of engaging God, the challenge for us in our daily lives is to develop a continuous awareness of God’s protective loving presence and peace through every moment of life. This requires making time for God - to engage with him in the busy-ness of our lives, not just when we are participating in our lovely worship services, but also in regular daily prayer as well as shifting our swirling thoughts to God’s presence throughout each day.

Heavenly Father, may you dwell in us and us in thee throughout our Lenten journey. May you bind us to your presence, as close to us as our every breath. Help us to be ever aware that we are always wrapped in your loving care. Amen

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March 16

Ruth Mason

Exodus 7:8-24 | Psalm 119:145-176 | 2 Corinthians 2:14-3:6 | Mark 10:1-16

The variety of scriptures offered for today ranges from the magic tricks of Moses and Aaron in dealing with Pharaoh’s stubbornness to the Psalmist’s desperate pleas for re-engagement, rescue, and assurance. In addition, the writer of Mark includes the Pharisees and their on-going attempts to trick Jesus with questions on the law and includes Jesus’ own remonstrations when his disciples tried to keep the children away from him. Paul continues in his Corinthian letters to urge his readers to move away from the rigidity of the law into the life affirming Spirit.

Engagement requires forward movement. We engage by acting with spontaneity and courage.

There is no room for indifference, callousness, or hostility. Through such an encounter with God, we have no need to turn sticks into serpents, or stress out with pleas to be closer to The Holy. We know “the children” of all faiths - and no faith - can with certainty encounter God. Jesus, through Mark, speaks of “hardness of heart”, the roadblock to the yearned for engagement.

The Pharisees, caught up in the rigidity of The Law, only can see legal/illegal and proper/improper, thus never seeing the glory of an open encounter with empathy. Their hearts are hardened by bigotry, elitism, and fear.

Which brings us to Pharaoh: his refusal to hear the pleas of Moses and Aaron, in spite of their magic tricks, kept his heart cold and indifferent, hardened to the plight of the Hebrew people.

Even the disciples failed to see that the children were naturally engaging with God-throughJesus. The disciples’ irritability was the hardness that compelled Jesus to hold the children, blessing them and opening the Kingdom to them.

The ingredients for hardness of heart are fear mongering, hatred of the “other”, and indifference.

Walk away from this load and engage with God.

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March 17

Richard Kilgore

Exodus 7:25-8:19 | Psalm 131, 132 | 2 Corinthians 3:7-18 | Mark 10:17-31

It is well known that Christ consistently used the expression “follower”. He never asks for admirers, worshippers, or adherents. No, he calls disciples. It is not adherents of a teaching but followers of a life Christ is looking for.

Soren Kierkegaard As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the Commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.’” He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” Jesus, looking at him said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then, come follow me.” When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

- Mark 10: 17 - 20

Viewed in a narrow, literal manner, our gospel reading for reflection today could be read as Jesus disdaining wealth and the wealthy. But Sondra Wheeler in her book “Wealth as Peril and Obligation” finds the treatment of wealth and possessions both more complex and more challenging in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament. So what do we find here in our reading from Mark for today? Read carefully, this challenging passage appears to address not only Christian purpose and our wealth, but our willingness to engage God by following Jesus rather than just admiring him. At this point in our gospel story, Jesus has been gathering disciples along the way. They have dropped everything – work, family, possessions – in order to follow Jesus.

So when the rich man asks Jesus what he must do, we are not surprised that Jesus asks of him what the others have already done and are doing.

So what does this mean to us today in our culture? What would following Jesus look like? What would engaging God require of us? What would it offer to us?

Some questions we might ask of ourselves: What has God been calling me to do?

What call have I resisted as too hard, too unfamiliar, too uncomfortable, too time-consuming, too costly in some way?

Is it possible to engage God, to follow Jesus, and not pay a price?

Am I avoiding learning more, praying more, worshipping more, contributing more, serving others more - although I feel called to do so?

Am I willing to try out some new ways of following Jesus during the Lenten season? Something more costly in effort and time – and more meaningful than giving up chocolate.

As for me, the area is prayer. During Lent I am spending time daily exploring the great variety of forms of prayer open to us as Christians to see what forms deepen my engagement with God1 Lord God, father of your son Jesus, help us to be followers of Him and not just admirers. Amen.

Michael, C.P. & Norrisey, M.C. Prayer and Temperament: Different Prayer Forms for Different Personality Types, Charlottesville, 1991.

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March 18

Emily Given

Exodus 9:13-35 | Psalm 95, 22 | 2 Corinthians 4:1-12 | Mark 10:32-45

The readings for today are filled with vivid stories and symbolism: the plague of hail in the Old Testament, as well as Jesus, predicting his own death in the New Testament, give us clear messages to ponder. I love stories, yet there was something about the Psalm that spoke to me this Lenten season.

The Psalms really are amazing. There is one for every situation or mood. (Isn’t that true of most modern songs too?) Psalm 95 is a song of praise and a message of God’s greatness. It is also a call to action for us. How are we to respond to the reality of such a remarkable creator God? Lent is a time to go deeper than we normally go in our life and devotion to God. It is fairly common place to give up or take on a practice for the season. What if God was calling you to do something different than take a vacation from Facebook or ease up on your chocolate intake?

What if God was asking us to come closer? Closer than ever before.

The Psalmist tells us to bow down in worship. When was the last time you bowed down to anything in reverence? In a “chin-up” society, it is rarely encouraged to bow down. How could you bow down and give God a rightful place in your heart, mind, and schedule this week? Most of us have lost sight of the old practice of kneeling next to our bed at night for prayer. Maybe it’s time to do it again (or try it for the first time).

I encourage us to take a cue from the Psalm and kneel before God. Literally. Get down. On our knees. There is freedom in letting go of our usual place in the world. I wonder what God might speak into our lives? Kneeling is about trust and stopping. I wonder what resting place it could offer? Kneeling is about giving up control. Where could we go together if we simply let go?

Let’s give it a try this week. Together.

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March 19

Nancy Somodevilla

Exodus 10:21-11:8 | Psalm 137:1-6, 144 | 2 Corinthians 4:13-18 | Mark 10:46-52

Have you ever had a teacher or mentor that captivated your imagination and heart and inspired you to learn more? I was so blessed to have Bill Power and Bob Ratelle as those people in my life.

Recently I was privileged to attend a class that Dr. Power taught here at St. Michael on Sunday morning. Something he said caught me as truly important, as he often does. Every Sunday we come to the Eucharist, but do we really know the importance and significance of what we are doing? This was the question he asked. That question grabbed me as the answer of how we engage with God and reminded me of the times that the kindergarten classes here at St. Michael reflected on that very question. I would like to reflect today on what the Eucharist means to me.

Nikos Kazantzakis, the author, states that, “To eat a meal with someone has always seemed to me a kind of communion – a mystical act, for all its ordinary appearances – which mysteriously unites souls. To eat bread, to drink wine with someone has always seemed a serious action to my prehistoric heart.” In the Middle East at the time of Jesus and even today, eating a meal binds people together as a family. It causes them to be responsible for each other, to care for each other. As we gather at the altar of St. Michael, look at the faces of your family. Remember the people gathered around the world at the Eucharist who are now our family. We may differ in looks, politics, and customs, but we are united in love for Christ who loves us.

The readings for today talk about the presence and power of God compared to the humility and smallness of human beings. Psalm 144 talks about humanity as “no more than a puff of wind” while God is able “to tilt the heavens and touch the mountains”. At the Eucharist, we Anglicans believe in the Real Presence of God. God is really present with us at the time we partake in Communion. This is truly a divine mystery and can touch each of us as a holy moment – every week. That is something to shake us into joy and thanksgiving and action as children of God. On Sunday, this moment is a time of gift giving. We accept the body and blood of Christ given for us, and we offer ourselves as a return gift as we walk down the aisle to the altar. No offering is tossed out as unworthy, neither are we turned away as imperfect. Each participant is accepted into the family of God. Eucharist links us to our brothers and sisters in Christ today and from generations long past. We receive this meal as did the earliest Christians – saints and sinners alike. We are connected to our parents, grandparents and all those who have gone before. Likewise, we are linked to our children and our children’s children in that great mystery of faith. What a miracle! I am a member of the family of God! Yes, the Eucharist is mysterious, wondrous, powerful, frightening, peaceful, reassuring and overwhelming. Thank you God for loving me; help me to love You and Your family.

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March 20 Palm Sunday

Elizabeth Lang Isaiah 50:4-9a | Psalm31:9-16 | Philippians 2:5-11 | Luke 23:1:49

“He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one.” “... the women who had had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance, watching these things.”

I live in a violent culture. Pax Romana, indeed! As a mere peasant woman from Galilee, I know that the “peace of Rome” is based on the might of arms, the power of death. Even in the midst of a busy harvest season, a soldier can compel one of us to carry his pack for a mile. What kind of justice is that? Without the threat of prison, would we be paying those taxes to a foreign power?

And what do we get? Pontius Pilate. Bah! Pilate thinks he is a legitimate authority, but what has he done with his power? Against the cries for the death of a man that he judged not guilty, Pilate abdicated. Pilate sent Jesus to Herod.

What did Herod do? He mocked Jesus, making sport of him. No wonder Pilate and Herod are friends. They are both alike. After Herod sent Jesus back to Pilate, what did Pilate do? Roman authority surrendered to local pressure and ordered crucifixion. Peasant lives don’t matter. This is abdication under threat of hostility, which supports violence. Who would have thought that resignation would be the response of an alien government based on force of arms?

I had thought that Jesus was the anointed one, Messiah. But you should have seen him after the brutal treatment the soldiers inflicted. Jesus was too weak to carry his cross. Simon of Cyrene was forced to do that. We, Galilean women followed, joined by women of Jerusalem. Such weeping, not that lamentation does much good in the face of cruelty. It was strange. In the midst of the humiliation and pain that he was enduring, Jesus felt compassion for us -- the wailing women.

Then with his wrists nailed to the cross and his body sagging under his weight, Jesus cared for a criminal and asked for forgiveness for those who tortured him. It was as though as an innocent victim, he breathed in and absorbed all the powers of fear, hatred, and death and breathed out compassion, forgiveness, and love. Love for friends and enemies alike.

In the midst of my own grief and dread in the face of senseless violence, I saw a miracle. I saw compassion taking in all of this horror and somehow transforming it. I’m still shocked, angry, and sad, but I’ve seen something else coming from Jesus in response to violence. I don’t understand it. It is engagement, not abdication; it is endurance, not retaliation. Something stirring, something mysterious, something amazing . . . I wonder . . . .

Gracious God, who sent your Son to save us from the power of sin and death, give us the courage and wisdom to withstand fear and to resist all forms of violence that destroy human dignity and life. Amen

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March 21

Monday of Holy Week

Joan Faubion

Lamentations 1:1-2, 6-12 | Psalm 51:1-18 | 2 Corinthians 1:1-7 | Mark 11:12-25 Holy Week is a wake-up call. I have to face myself. Lamentations exhorts heartfelt contrition.

Mark points out the price of an unforgiving heart. 2nd Corinthians is tender, calling our Lord the Father of Mercies – the God of all comfort who comforts us in tribulation.

I recall the Beatitudes, eight blessings stated as “conditions” and “results” and realize a curious thing. I want the results: to see God, to inherit the Kingdom, to be comforted. I don’t want the conditions: poor, poor in spirit, mourning / crying. Then Jesus says, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you”… I suspect the line to sign up for these is VERY short. How do we reconcile teachings about suffering, which often produces charity of thought and clarity of perspective? But, Lord, aren’t there easier ways?

Recently Dr. Bill Power said, “Put your hand in the hand of Christ. When challenges arrive -- if you’re holding your own hand – you’re without Divine Strength, Light, or Peace…”

Afterward, I embraced friends who had received devastating cancer news. Feeling somber as I drove home, an old memory surfaced.

As a teenager, on a blazing hot day, I visited a small frame house near our ranch. Without air conditioning and hoping for a breeze, she ironed on a screened-in porch. Her damp blouse and hair held back with a rag produced a wave of sympathy. I thought “What an awful job to have in this heat.” She looked up and gave me a big smile. Her joyful eyes and countenance riveted my attention. I do not recall the question I asked -- her startling answer I remember.

“Oh honey, I have Jesus -- when you have Jesus -- you have everything!”

Driving away I felt pensive. “How did she feel gratitude in her circumstances?” I thought -- she is full of what money can’t buy. Sometimes one visual is worth a thousand sermons.

So, where does Holy Week leave us? Does God draw us into the community for a much-needed workshop to learn love for the unlovely? Henri Nouwen said, “Community is the place where the person you least want to be with always lives.” Ouch! Jesus seems to prefer our efforts to “love those who are different” over our prideful “seeking self-righteous sameness.” I think of the Rev. Jim Web and his heart for those not at the table. Presiding Bishop Curry in Crazy Christians urges us “to love what unites us more than we dislike what divides us.”

Lord, we need a heart transplant.

Oh wait – you’ve already provided for that in Ps 51 we learned as children in VBS… “Create in me a clean heart, O God; renew a right spirit within me. Restore to me the joy of thy salvation.” This is my prayer for me – for us – Holy Week and every week. Amen

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March 22

Tuesday of Holy Week

Christi Hauser

Lamentations 1:17-22 | Psalm 6, 12 | 2 Corinthians 1:8-22 | Mark 11:27-33 I went through two of the Lenten readings for today, in Psalms and Lamentations, I noticed As that these readings were about a cry for mercy or complaining to God about what wasn’t fair. It seemed a lot more about whining and begging God than really trying to pray or engage with Him. Sound somewhat familiar? If I am honest, this has my name written all over it. I am an expert at complaining about the unfairness of life, but not so great at listening or taking action. Luckily God already knows this about me.

This particular set of verses, for me, was really about understanding that bad things happened to the early Christians, just like they happen to us today. We struggle against what isn’t right in the world or how our enemies have hurt us. We rail at how unfair a situation is and wonder where God’s presence is in the midst of it all. Our anger, selfishness, and self-pity get in the way of our connection to God. We are looking for God’s mercy and grace but can’t quite seem to connect to it.

Every year during Lent, I promise myself that I will do more for others, spend more time in prayer and meditation, and give up something that is really a sacrifice. How hard can it be to do something for a mere 40 days? Then, after what I see as a pretty good start, I get through the first week, maybe the second, and the wheels start to come off. All those sneaky little things start to creep into my intentions: work, worries, kids, commitments, “stuff “. These are the barriers that I allow to get in the way of my most important relationship. My Lenten promise is, once again, a bust; and I feel like I have failed. Now, here comes my complaining and whining. It’s just really harder than I thought … I don’t feel like it…I’m too busy.

As we enter Holy Week, I am trying again to be the Christian that God has intended me to be, perhaps not perfect but a little more present this year than last. It’s not about my performance in a measured way or having a complete understanding about my purpose or the meaning of everything. God isn’t grading me. For me, it is about showing up and recognizing when God presents me with an opportunity. If I don’t take this time every year and attempt to create some spiritual space, I might continue to speed through life and miss the miracles that God sets before me every single day. I will get caught up in that cycle of selfishness again.

I will keep it simple this year with something as small as saying prayers with my family before we begin or end our day, bringing a sick neighbor a meal, listening to a friend who is struggling, or maybe just complaining less and accepting more. When I show up in community with others as my less than perfect and authentic self, God can actually get some real work done. That spiritual connection and intimacy I am searching for starts to appear through others. By being in community with each of you, God starts to mend that brokenness that is part of me. Together we become more whole, and His grace and mercy becomes real and healing. I am engaged with God as He intended, both alone and more importantly through others. My prayer is that you are able to create some spiritual space and engagement for yourself this week whatever that looks like for you.

God Bless

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March 23

Wednesday of Holy Week the Gospel reading, Mark writes of Jesus telling the Parable of the Tenants. What does Jesus’ In parable about an absentee landlord and his tenants say to us? The hills of Galilee were lined with numerous vineyards, and it was quite normal for the owners to rent out their estates to tenants. Many did it for the sole purpose of collecting rent. Why did Jesus’ story about wicked tenants cause offense to the scribes and Pharisees? It contained both a prophetic message and a warning. Isaiah had spoken of the house of Israel as “the vineyard of the Lord” (Isaiah 5:7).

Jesus’ listeners would likely understand this parable as referring to God’s dealing with a stubborn and rebellious people. This parable speaks to us today as well. It richly conveys some important truths about God and the way he deals with his people.

First, it tells us of God’s generosity and trust. The vineyard is well equipped with everything the tenants need. The owner went away and left the vineyard in the hands of the tenants. God likewise trusts us enough to give us freedom to run life as we choose. This parable also tells us of God’s patience and justice. Not once but many times, he forgives the tenants their debts.

But while the tenants take advantage of the owner’s patience, his judgment and justice prevail in the end. Jesus foretold both his death and his ultimate triumph. He knew he would be rejected and be killed, but he also knew that would not be the end. After rejection would come glory — the glory of resurrection and ascension to the right hand of the Father. How do we share in this glory? By submitting to Jesus’ kingly rule in our lives.

By staying engaged in a meaningful relationship with God, we tend to the vines he has so graciously given us, and Jesus promises us we will bear much fruit. However, the fruit will not grow unless we tend to those vines and do the work God has set out for us to do. He promises that our labor will not be in vain if we persevere with faith to the end. In Hebrews 11:1 faith is described as the “assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” and Paul says in 2nd Corinthians 5:7 “We live by faith, not by sight.”

My faith journey has taught me to “Let go and let God” do for me what I am unable to do for myself. When I put my trust in Him, I am letting go of the need to control the things that used to confound me. If things don’t go as I had envisioned, I try not to get upset but rather accept the fact that God may have a different plan for me. I try to be grateful and thank him for showing me this path. I have faith that God will lead me along this path even though I don’t know where I am headed. If I can stay focused on where I am right now, and not worry about what is up ahead around the corner, I can find God and engage with Him right then and there. By not having all of the worries of the future events floating around in my head I have more room to accept God’s grace and focus on things I can do right now, like being of service to others.

Heading into the last few days of Holy Week I often imagine the amount of faith Jesus must have had to know what was about to happen to him and yet be able to walk through it all for the glory of his Father: to be the son going to meet those tenants knowing what had been the fate of so many servants his Father had sent before him.

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Warren Houser Lamentations 2:1-9 | Psalm 55 | 2 Corinthians 1:23-2:11 | Mark 12: 1-11 I will leave you with a parable a friend once told me: There is a man walking along in the dark who stumbles over a cliff that is 500 feet to the bottom. On the way down he happens to grab onto a tree root that is growing off the side of the cliff. Beneath his feet, only a few inches is a ledge he could drop onto and climb to safety, but it is too dark for him to see it. He cries out into the darkness, “God, please help me. I’ve fallen and I don’t know what to do.” God replies, “Let go of the tree root.” The man replies, “Is there anyone else I can talk to?”

Would I have enough faith to trust God and let go? As I read Psalm 55 today here are some parts that really jumped out at me: Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea … 2hear me and answer me . . . Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken . . . But as for me, I trust in You. Amen

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March 24

Maundy Thursday

Erica Bower

Exodus 12:1-14 | Psalm 116:1, 10-17 | 1 Corinthians 11:23-26 | John 13:1-17, 31b-35 I read through the passages for today, I felt drawn to a few words or phrases that resonated As inside my heart: sharing, sacrifice, remembrance, to command to love one another. The visual of Jesus washing his disciple’s feet is humbling in the biggest sense of the word.

We each have our own dirt on our feet. While we may be a Christian people, baptized by the Spirit, we still each have our own issues - our own dirt. Those issues may be out for the world to see or they may just be the ones that are only visible to you and God. I know that I struggle with issues only God and I know. That is just some the dirt on my feet.

Jesus set the example of washing the feet of the disciples and charged us with the task. Do we always do it for each other? I’m not sure I always do. It’s not easy. In order to wash someone else’s feet, to love another, we need to see the dirt on our own feet and love ourselves. We must be willing to let someone wash our feet, to love us. We must be willing to show the world that we are disciples: to love one another.

How can you do this today? Even in the smallest possible way? A mountain can start with a grain of sand. What will your grain of sand be to someone else? A hug? A smile?

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March 25 Good Friday

Ann Sentilles

Isaiah 52:13-53:12 | Psalm 22 | Hebrews 10:16-25 or Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9 | John 18:1-19:42 The Gospel reading for today takes me back to the church of my childhood where, as you may also recall, the Passion Narrative was read on Good Friday and not, as it is these days, on Palm Sunday. (I have heard it said the lectionary was rearranged because of institutional and theological concerns that so few Episcopalians showed up at Good Friday services, the Passion Narrative was getting lost, ignored, or forgotten, a mere way-station, if you will, between Palm Sunday’s laud and honor and Easter Sunday’s triumph).

I, for one, am happy to have it assigned to Good Friday this year. I like the dramatic arc of the whole Holy Week story – the majesty of Jesus riding into town on a donkey, the intimate holiness of The Last Supper, the dark despair of the crucifixion, and the glory of Easter. And I like the political context and the contrast between the crowds that adore Jesus and the crowds that less than a week later demand that he be crucified. The narrative suggests the ephemeral nature of political popularity and power, not only for Jesus, but more especially in the person of Pontius Pilate who appears in John’s version of the Passion to almost grasp the meaning of what is going on, too. Pilate is able to articulate what’s right and what’s wrong, but in the end he lacks the character and courage to act accordingly. He lets the shouts of the crowd silence his sense of justice. He lets his truth be distorted by laws invoked by high priests, his judgment compromised by fear for his own standing in the empire. And at the end, wholly complicit, he not only provides for the crucifixion to proceed, but also joins in, mocking Jesus as the King of the Jews.

Pilate is the character who most challenges me. Like him, I have the opportunity to “get it,” and yet all too often, I don’t. What would I do, what do I do in the face of injustice? How do I respond to fear (and fear-mongering)? How often do I experience some perversion of the law (say, how one reads the Constitution or how one reads the Bible) and let others get away with it, instead of standing up or at least speaking up for more human, loving values? Why do I ask, as Pilate does, “What is truth?” as if I don’t really know, or it really doesn’t matter when I do know and it does matter? How much easier is it to just go along with the prevailing social, cultural and political order because, hey, the system works pretty well for me, and it’s really, really hard to go against the crowd? How many times have I encountered God in another person (as Pilate certainly did with Jesus) and turned away?

John’s Gospel doesn’t help me with this; it just puts it all out there for me to consider. But today’s lectionary also includes Hebrews 10:24, which does help: “And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some [Who? Me?], but encouraging one another...” This is Church, or what Church can be – should be -- in our troubled times: a coming together to encourage and to provoke one another to love and good deeds. Amen.

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March 26 Holy Saturday

Shelly Vescovo

Lamentations 3:37-58 | Psalm 95, 88 | Hebrews 4:1-16 | Romans 8: 1-11

But if Christ is in you, though the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his Spirit that dwells in you.

Romans 8:10-11 What does it mean to be alive?

And – conversely – what does it mean to be dead?

Every Ash Wednesday we are reminded “from dust you came and to dust you will go”.

As for mortals, their days are like grass;

They flourish like a flower of the field;

For the wind passes over it and it is gone…

But the stedfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting

On those who fear him,

And his righteousness to children’s children,

To those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments.

Psalm 103: 15-18 Jesus died. Period. He was not pretending. He, fully human, did not anticipate Easter morning.

He died. Just as we all do.

But God had in mind something different for Jesus from the very beginning. Just as God has for all of us.

What God has in mind is LIFE with a capital L. What God has in mind for all of us is the actual LIVING of a resurrected life. Paul calls this “life in the Spirit” or “life in Christ”.

It is not just that we wait for the Second Coming and the Resurrection of the Dead. It is that we live resurrection NOW. Even when we are in our darkest moments. Even when it is as dark as a tomb everywhere we look.

Jesus did not have an easy life. But he did have a life filled with the Spirit of God. And Jesus’ invitation to me, to you, at all moments of our lives, is to be alive to this Spirit which produces “righteousness”. Not righteousness defined as being right, but righteousness defined as being in right relation with God and with God’s creation.

That is a resurrected life. And I am convinced that – with God’s help – if I can live a resurrected life now – even when the walls are caving in on me and there seems no way out – I will know in my heart and soul what it means to have the stone rolled away to let in the light.

God of Light, illumine our lives so that we might be a reflection of your light. Amen.

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March 27

Doug Travis

Easter Sunday

Isaiah 65:17-25 | Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24 | 1 Corinthians 15:19-26 or Acts 10:34-43 | Luke 24:1-12

Living the Resurrection

Okay, first things first. It really happened. The tomb really was empty. Jesus really appeared to his disciples. The man who was totally unjustly executed was raised from the dead and appears to those who will accept him and be transformed by him. It’s nearly as if he’s saying, “All I did was tell you how much my Father loves you and how to live into that life. For my efforts you killed me.

But violence and evil cannot overcome peace and love. My Father has raised me. I’m still with you and I still love you. Now what are you going to do? I hope you’ll accept me into your hearts and be resurrected with me.”

As a rule when we think of justice we think of retributive justice – an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth – despite Jesus’ expressly telling us to do otherwise. (Cf., Matthew 5:43-48) What Jesus extols instead is restorative justice, a justice filled with mercy, more concerned with restoring the sinner to his or her God-given potential than with extracting a price for evil deeds done.

The power of such love is demonstrated precisely in the love the witnesses to the resurrection exhibited after having known the Risen One. The human response to pain inflicted is to seek revenge, yet we have not one single account of any of the witnesses to the resurrection striking back. And, so far as we can discern from the historical records, 10 of the 11 surviving disciples died martyrs’ deaths.

Which is significant. The Greek word from which we get our word “martyr” actually simply means “witness”, but so many early Christians chose to die for their faith rather than inflict violence that the word came to be applied expressly to those who died rather than deny their Lord.

Which raises a very stark question: How can you and I as disciples of the Risen One so open our hearts to His Presence that we can live with such confidence in God’s love that we’d rather die than do violence of any kind?

I think we may find a clue in the Gospel of John. “[T]he disciples rejoiced when they saw the [Risen] Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” (John 20:20-22) The resurrection of Jesus is not simply an historical event that happened 2000 years ago! It is the very breath of our God – God’s very life – flowing through our veins, breathing in our hearts, right now. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Breath of God (literally, in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin), and in the power of the resurrection that Breath is ours! If . . . we choose to live it now. This is what all the great saints and mystics throughout history have known and demonstrated.

(continued on next page)

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March 27 Easter Sunday

Doug Travis

Isaiah 65:17-25 | Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24 | 1 Corinthians 15:19-26 or Acts 10:34-43 | Luke 24:1-12 Here’s the thing: While I absolutely believe in the “historicity” of the resurrection – I really believe with all my heart that it happened – there’s no particular merit in that unless my cognitive belief opens my heart to profound transformation, the transformation which Jesus died to issue into our hearts and into the world. As the Apostle Paul put it (and as I noted in the opening entry in this booklet), “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” (Galatians 2:19-20) The resurrection of Jesus matters only as I allow the Risen Lord to dwell in me through the power of the Holy Spirit. As surely as the Resurrection of Jesus is not mere metaphor or mere symbol, so is the Risen Life not mere metaphor or symbol. For me the question regarding Easter has ceased to be: Did it happen? I’m confident it did. For me the question of Easter has become, have I opened my eyes, my ears, and my heart to perceive and discern the Risen Lord living within and through me for His purposes in the world? I hope that’s what Easter means for you as well.

Artwork by Celise Stephenson

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Saint Michael and All Angels Episcopal Church 8011 Douglas Avenue Dallas, Texas 75225 2016