Monday, April 14, 2014

Palm Sunday

Psalm 31:9-16  •   Isaiah 50:4-9a   •   Philippians 2:5-11   •   Matthew 26:14 – 27:66

Today’s readings portray two individuals wracked by guilt. Peter, ever passionate, declares that he will “not deny or disown” Jesus (Matthew 26:35). But when the moment comes and his safety is threatened, he fails—and again, and again. The cock crows, and Peter descends into bitter tears.

Shortly thereafter, Judas, overwhelmed by the enormity of “betraying innocent blood” (Matthew 27:4), returns his payoff of silver to the chief priests. They give him neither solace nor recourse: “What is that to us? See to that yourself.” He does so by hanging himself.

I transgress every day, in ways small and large. Faced with my iniquity, I join the psalmist in feeling like “a reproach . . . a dread . . . a broken vessel” (Psalm 31:11–12). My transgressions betray Christ, hurt people, and leave me subject to guilt—sometimes pinpricks of conscience, sometimes bitter tears. Then I want in vain to give back the silver, to turn back time.

What is to come of the likes of me? Thankfully, I am not left to “see to that myself.” Christ did not say, “What is that to me?" He “abased and humbled Himself” (Philippians 2:8) to meet me where I live, in the brutishness that so often marks human life—and all too often is of my own making. He submitted Himself even to the extreme of death on the cross, where His blood was “poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28).

I hope that Judas, like the repentant thief crucified beside Jesus, opened his heart even as he died hanging. Peter, of course, lived through his repeated failure. Having followed Jesus as best he could, having sat at Jesus’ last meal, he then sat with his guilt-ridden grief until he could move forward. He had failed, but he had also drunk from the cup of salvation, and he became a rock on which the church was built. I am no Peter, but the church is still getting built, and rocks―large and small―are still needed. Praise to you, Lord Christ!

— Tom Tiller

Saturday in the Fifth Week of Lent

Psalm 42      Exodus 10:21 – 11:8      2 Corinthians 4:13-18      Mark 10:46-52

The readings spoke to me of faith. Longing for faith (my soul thirsts for God), trusting and having faith (Moses doing as God bids and finding that it is as God said), faith spoken of in a letter (It is written I believe. . . since we have the same spirit of faith), being healed simply by having faith (Rabbi, I want to see . . . Jesus said, ‘Go, your faith has healed you’)
And so I wonder—what of my own faith? It is easy to believe and have faith when things are going smoothly. I am full of thanksgiving and simple prayers for others. Perhaps this is not so when faced with a challenge. Then I am feeling abandoned by God, often lost in anger, fearful of the outcome. Yet this is when I find I most deeply get in touch with my faith. When I cry out to the Lord and He gives me direction, leading me out of the darkness. When I can articulate my faith and am assured that all will be well even if it may not appear so. When I feel whole once again, simply because I believe. . . .

The storm comes
Without warning
A torrent of
Despair
Anger
Fear
Faith falls
Shattered by the power
Lost, I grasp for hope
Seeking answers
Finding none
Finally EGO turns away
Exhausted
Allowing God
I see at last
Faith standing by the door,
Welcoming me home.



— Anne Cressin

Friday in the Fifth Week of Lent

Psalm 143      Exodus 9:13-35      2 Corinthians 4:1-12      Mark 10:32-45

Quoted and adapted from
the readings

A Servant’s Prayer

Hear my prayer, O God; in your faithfulness,
     let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
          for I put my trust in you.

Teach me the way I should go, for I lift up my soul to you;
     for I am your servant.
There is no one like you in all the earth.
     Your power and your name resound through all the earth.

It is by your mercy that I commend myself to your ministry;
     for it is your light that shines out of the darkness
          and shines in my heart to give the light of the knowledge
          of your glory in the face of your Son, Jesus Christ.

Show me the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ,
     who is the image of you.
Teach me not to proclaim myself; but to proclaim Jesus Christ as
     Lord and myself as a servant for his sake.

Hear my prayer, O God; in your faithfulness,
     let me hear of your steadfast love in the evening,
          for I put my trust in you.


  Betsy Daniel

Thursday in the Fifth Week of Lent

Psalm 133      Exodus 7:25 – 8:19      2 Corinthians 3:7-18      Mark 10:17-31

The gospel reading for today from Mark is a storehouse of hard sayings, perhaps particularly hard for prosperous Episcopalians. “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.” Not being particularly prosperous myself may make it too easy for me to look past this saying, yet it speaks to all of us, as does this later statement: “But many that are first will be last, and the last first.” 

The context of the passage is the young man who asked Jesus what he must do to inherit eternal life but was not willing to give up his possessions to help the poor. I suspect that Jesus saw through him immediately. (“Why do you call me good?”) Don’t ask a profound question unless you (we) are really serious about receiving an answer!

We should not pretend to resolve this passage in any comfortable way. Certainly it is asking where we have placed our hearts. And what are we willing to put at risk for the sake of the gospel? Money? Power? Prestige? Even family (see verses 29-30)? We are all imperfect, with feet of clay, but that does not excuse our falling short.

Various attempts have been made through the centuries to ignore or explain away the hard sayings of the New Testament. The simplicity and love for the poor shown by Pope Francis come across as a fresh renewal of the gospel. But it does not follow that Jesus would tell each of us to sell all we have and give everything to the poor. We see through a glass darkly. It is often hard to know what we are called to do.

This Lenten season should remind us to seek discernment, to strive to do God's will in ways that are challenging and self-giving. But if we can grow in acting out of gratitude to God and compassion for others, we may also remember that our imperfections are not the last word. That word is God’s reconciling love for his whole creation: the Word of Easter morning.


  John Zuck

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Wednesday in the Fifth Week of Lent

Psalm 128   •   Exodus 7:8-24   •   2 Corinthians 2:14 – 3:6   •   Mark 10:1-16

Today’s readings in Exodus and 2 Corinthians give examples of needing to find external validation and “proof” in order to act or believe in something. This is still commonplace today, whether it is seeking approval from a boss or mentor, a loved one or stranger, or looking for a sign that something is meant to be or not meant to be. We often look outside of ourselves for direction that informs our actions and beliefs.

In Mark’s passage we receive a reminder about how to escape that sometimes damaging and often exhausting quest for confirmation. We are instructed to receive the kingdom of God like a child. Imagine if we went through life with the lens we have as children: unbiased and open to all truth and possibility; an outlook of abundance rather than scarcity; and certainty rather than fear.

Today is my baptism birthday and I am reminded of the gift we are all given in baptism: the holy waters of baptism, the promise of God’s eternal presence among us. Stardust and Spirit that we can turn to inside of ourselves—what greater validation do we need?

Creator God,
You have blessed us with your love.
            You have brushed us with stardust.
            You have called us to live for others.
            You have given us the challenge of plenty,
                        resources beyond our needs.
Instruct us how to be a blessing,
            how to usher in a world of peace,
            how to craft from the stardust
                        a bright future for all of our children.
Thank you, God, for your blessing.
            Teach us to bless one another.

                        Joan Brown Campbell, “Prayers from Chautauqua”


— Erika Viccellio