Psalm 67

1 May God be merciful to us and bless us,
show us the light of his countenance and come to us.

2 Let your ways be known upon earth,
your saving health among all nations.

3 Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the peoples praise you.

4 Let the nations be glad and sing for joy,
for you judge the peoples with equity
and guide all the nations upon earth.

5 Let the peoples praise you, O God;
let all the peoples praise you.

6 The earth has brought forth her increase;
may God, our own God, give us his blessing.

7 May God give us his blessing,
and may all the ends of the earth stand in awe of him.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

A DEI Psalm

I’ve been told that the preacher is supposed to have the Bible in one hand and newspaper in the other. So when I read the psalm heard in church yesterday (reprinted above) and noticed the reference to equity, I wondered how that intersects with current concerns about diversity, equity, and inclusion. Those three values have been presented by some as pernicious threats to our common life. So I was struck with how the call to equity surfaces not only in this psalm but in several others (Psalm 9, 45, 75, 96, 98, 99, as well as Proverbs 1, 2, 29, and Isaiah 11.9). When the psalm calls for equity, it is not simply earthly powers that are to practice this virtue. Equity is also an attribute of the Holy One.

I looked into what equity means. It’s not the same as equality, though equality is obviously an important value in a world where many say that some are more equal than others. Equity is essentially about fairness. It therefore involves consideration of the other. It calls for compassion, which scholar Karen Armstrong has described as the central virtue in all the world’s religions. News of the day indicates that equity, fairness, and compassion seem to be in short supply, seen by some as wokeness or weakness or both.

Psalm 67 also seems to value inclusion, even if that word is not used. Note the references to all the ends of the earth, to all peoples, etc. This message of inclusion carries through all of scripture. Jesus’ words to his disciples near the end of his earthly ministry, for instance: When I am lifted up, I will draw all people to myself.

And with a message of inclusion, there’s an implication of diversity. If all are included, then differences between us don’t separate us. The image of the body of Christ, repeated by St. Paul in several letters, speaks of many gifts brought together. It’s a vision of unity, not uniformity.

I’m grateful to worship in a tradition that celebrates equity with the baptismal promise that we seek Christ in all persons and respect the dignity of every human being. Note: all and every. I’m grateful to worship in a tradition that celebrates inclusion, with that aspirational sign that appears on street corners and can be read by anyone: The Episcopal Church welcomes you. I’m grateful to worship in a tradition that recognizes the stunning beauty of diversity and the richness that diversity adds to our common life.

After decades in the church, I know all too well that we don’t always get those things right. More than 70 years after Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. noted that Sunday morning at 11am is America’s most segregated hour, we have not changed all that much. We’ve got work to do.

But in the current political climate, I’m grateful for commitments made by leaders in the church to embrace diversity, equity, and inclusion, to see them as biblical values. Matthew Heyd, Bishop of New York, announced last month that the diocese had approved a commitment to diversity, equity and inclusion, admitting that now is time for our practices to reflect our prayers, for our common life to reflect our deepest commitment, even and especially if it moves in the opposite direction from our culture. He said that diversity is God’s own beautiful creation, and that equity and inclusion are the call and way of life for every Christian community. 

You can breathe a sigh of relief that I have absolutely no influence on the making of public policy. Those who have brought this issue to the political forefront can battle that out. But I do think that each one of us can focus on how we treat other people with equity, mindful of challenges, systemic and otherwise, that others may face. We can all work on inclusion, looking for those who have been excluded by race, economic standing, or point of view. And we can all give thanks for diversity, indeed a gift of God’s creation. Those are things that followers of Jesus do.

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 148

1 Hallelujah! Praise the Lord from the heavens;
praise him in the heights.

2 Praise him, all you angels of his;
praise him, all his host.

3 Praise him, sun and moon;
praise him, all you shining stars.

4 Praise him, heaven of heavens,
and you waters above the heavens.

5 Let them praise the Name of the Lord;
for he commanded, and they were created.

6 He made them stand fast for ever and ever;
he gave them a law which shall not pass away.

7 Praise the Lord from the earth,
you sea-monsters and all deeps;

8 Fire and hail, snow and fog, tempestuous wind, doing his will;

9 Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars;

10 Wild beasts and all cattle, creeping things and winged birds;

11 Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes
and all rulers of the world;

12 Young men and maidens,
old and young together.

13 Let them praise the Name of the Lord, for his Name only is exalted,
his splendor is over earth and heaven.

14 He has raised up strength for his people and praise for all his loyal servants,
the children of Israel, a people who are near him. Hallelujah!

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

I could be wrong

I am never free from the possibility of being mistaken.

-Howard Thurman

My hero, Charles Schulz, said that cartooning is preaching. One of his most compelling sermons showed Snoopy at the typewriter on top of his doghouse. Charlie Brown approaches and asks what he is writing. Snoopy answers that he’s writing a book on theology. Charlie Brown responds: “You have to have a good title for a book on theology.” Snoopy smiles smugly: “I have the perfect title.” The title of his theology book? “Has it ever occurred to you that you might be wrong?”

I mention this cartoon in response to a line in the psalm you may have heard in church yesterday, a psalm printed above. It’s a hymn of praise. Everything in creation offers praise for God. Among all the things that offer praise are waters above the heavens. It’s one of several places in scripture where we get a glimpse of biblical cosmology. In those days, people believed that above the sky there was water, as if the sky were a big dome. We now know that is not true. In other words, those early faithful people were wrong.

Throughout the history of the church, people have been wrong about all kinds of things. The church persecuted Galileo for pointing out that the earth was not the center of the universe. More recently, the church has come to admit it has been wrong about many issues. About excluding women from leadership. About the biblical sanction for slavery. Richard Hays, a brilliant New Testament scholar who taught at Duke Divinity School, recently passed away. At the end of his career, he wrote a book with his son (also a biblical scholar) entitled The Widening of God’s Mercy. In this book, Richard Hays acknowledges that he (along with many in Christendom, however well intentioned) had been “wrong about the most essential point of theology: the character of God. In recent years, that is nowhere more apparent than in ecclesiastical debates on sexuality.” He describes how he changed his mind about same-sex relationships. He continues: “We need to return to a more expansive reading of the biblical story as a story about the wideness of God’s mercy.”

Another stellar theologian, James Allison, wrote a book with this captivating title: The Joy of Being Wrong. It’s a rich book which recognizes that grace is available to us, even when we might be off track. He writes: “Representations of God, all of which are marked by a human culture in which death appears as, at the very least, inevitable, are wrong, as Jesus remarked to the Sadducees: “You are greatly mistaken.” The resurrection of Jesus, at the same time as it showed the unimagined strength of divine love for a particular human being, and therefore revealed the loving proximity of God, also marked a final and definitive sundering of God from any human representational capacity…The complete freedom and gratuity of God is learned only from the resurrection, not because it did not exist before, but because we could not know about or understand it while our understanding was shaped by the inevitability of death.”

All of which is to say that religious people need to pay attention to Snoopy and recognize that in the face of holy mysteries, we are called to humility. We need to embrace what St. Paul said: We see through a glass darkly. We know in part. And so we regularly experience the joy of being wrong in our liturgy, when after confession, after we admit we’ve been wrong, we hear most gracious words of absolution.

Some years ago, one day after church, my daughter told me that when I stood behind the altar with arms raised, celebrating the eucharist, it looked as if I was shrugging my shoulders in a way that said: “I don’t know.” She was tapping into something truer than she may have known. The longer I’m on this spiritual journey, the more I believe we approach (on bended knee) mysteries transcending our limited understanding. That means we will be wrong about stuff, like those folks who thought there was tons of water above that blue sky. It makes me wonder (and occasionally fret) about what I’m wrong about that I don’t or won’t realize or recognize.

But fear not. We can still be faithful. In the end, what we know is what St. Paul said at the end of his famous hymn to love in I Corinthians. He said that what remains is faith, hope and love. So we have faith, which is trust that can sometimes feel like a leap. We hope, even if we don’t know what lies ahead. We show love, because that is the power that sustains us, the power at the heart of all creation. There’s nothing wrong about that.

-Jay Sidebotham

PS: If there was such a thing as Tuesday Matters, I’d write more about this psalm and particularly about how all of nature, animate and inanimate, praises the Lord. If you want to think more about this rather amazing concept, I commend to you a new book I’m reading by Karen Armstrong. Title: Sacred Nature.

Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul and guides me along right pathways for his Name's sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil;
for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me;
you have anointed my head with oil, and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Shadows

Psalm 23. You may have heard it yesterday in church, the Fourth Sunday in the Easter season often referred to as Good Shepherd Sunday. In a culture where biblical literacy wanes (to put it mildly), this psalm is widely known, and for good reason. It’s wonderfully pastoral in many senses of the word.

For this reflection, I tried to read it as if I’d never heard it before. Give it a try. See what strikes you. As I looked at the psalm this way, I wondered what is meant by the valley of the shadow of death. Not the valley of death, but the valley of the shadow of death. It got me thinking of the ways we live with that shadow looming, blocking the light on our pathway.

A shadow is cast by awareness of our own mortality. How do we navigate that valley? In my ministry, I’ve been struck with the way one particular blessing resonates with people. It begins: Life is short and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us. So make haste to be kind. In the shadow of the shortness of our lives (a theme repeated in scripture and especially in the psalms), we are made to realize our own limitations. We are called to number our days (Psalm 90:12). That can help us recognize what really matters. We shape our actions accordingly. The good news of Easter offers this illumination: the limits of our earthly lifespan are hardly limits to the Holy One.

A shadow is cast in our acquaintance with grief, especially as we advance in years. We live in the shadow of loss, missing those we love but see no longer. How do we navigate that valley? It happens as we embrace the wisdom of the burial office which affirms that in death life is changed, not ended. That’s why in the Easter season, the theme of resurrection brings the light of comfort and hope.

We know the shadow cast in our broken world, as news of the day speaks of the powers that aim to bring life to an end. We learn about cruel tragedy unfolding in Gaza, nations imagining they can solve conflict with deadly violence, children in impoverished nations facing death by starvation as aid is abruptly cut off.

In the Easter season we are enlightened by the experience of the early church. Shadows lifted as good news was brought to the world with a spirit of equity and inclusion. The first followers of Jesus shaped a common life marked by generosity as described in Acts 2:  All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts. St. Paul wrote that in Christ there is neither male nor female, slave nor free, Jew nor Greek (Galatians 3:28-29).

I’m certain there are many other ways that shadows are cast as we navigate darkened valleys. The good news is that while it’s not given to us to avoid the shaded valley, we do not go alone. We have a presence with us guiding us through those passages, Jesus who knows our every weakness, Jesus who passed through those shadows himself. A good shepherd who brings us home rejoicing, so that goodness and mercy will follow us all the days of our lives, Jesus who is the light of a world marked by shadows.

I love how Nadia Bolz-Weber described this light, which came to her one Easter morning: “It happens to all of us. God simply keeps reaching down into the dirt of humanity and resurrecting us from the graves we dig for ourselves through our violence, our lies, our selfishness, our arrogance, and our addictions. And God keeps loving us back to life over and over.”

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 30

1 I will exalt you, O Lord, because you have lifted me up
and have not let my enemies triumph over me.

2 O Lord my God, I cried out to you,
and you restored me to health.

3 You brought me up, O Lord, from the dead;
you restored my life as I was going down to the grave.

4 Sing to the Lord, you servants of his;
give thanks for the remembrance of his holiness.

5 For his wrath endures but the twinkling of an eye,
his favor for a lifetime.

6 Weeping may spend the night,
but joy comes in the morning.

7 While I felt secure, I said, "I shall never be disturbed.
You, Lord, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains."

8 Then you hid your face,
and I was filled with fear.

9 I cried to you, O Lord;
I pleaded with the Lord, saying,

10 "What profit is there in my blood, if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you or declare your faithfulness?

11 Hear, O Lord, and have mercy upon me;
O Lord, be my helper."

12 You have turned my wailing into dancing;
you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.

13 Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing;
O Lord my God, I will give you thanks for ever.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Ordinary Resurrections

Of course, Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus, a central tenet of our faith. But it is also about the possibility of resurrection in each one of our lives.

One of the most important books I’ve ever read is by Jonathan Kozol, an educator who focused especially on children living in poverty in our nation. He spent several years hanging around a school and church in the South Bronx, listening to the stories of the children who lived in those disadvantaged environs. He writes about the work of a heroic Episcopal priest who served that community, facing great obstacles. It might sound like a depressing book. But the pages reverberate with hope. The book is entitled Ordinary Resurrections. It was from that book that I learned that the word resurrection literally means to stand again. So when I’m feeling kind of knocked down, I think about those children. I think about the prospect of finding a way forward.

The resurrection of Jesus is at the heart of the Christian faith. But it’s not the only place in the Bible where people find that way forward, where they are able to stand again. Abraham and Sarah, childless and according to the letter of Hebrews, as good as dead, have a child while they are in their nineties. Moses finds a way through the Red Sea. Daniel emerges from a lions' den unscathed.

My reflection on resurrection was prompted by the psalm you might have heard in church yesterday, reprinted above. The psalmist finds all kinds of ways to describe resurrection. God brought the psalmist up from the dead, restoring his life when he was going down to the grave. Weeping may last the night, but joy comes in the morning. Wailing is turned into dancing. Sackcloth becomes a garment of joy.

All of this points to the centrality of resurrection in our faith. As an Easter season discipline, spend some time reflecting on I Corinthians 15. St Paul makes the point that because Jesus was raised, we will be raised as well. He goes further and says that our faith makes no sense if we don’t believe resurrection happens. We believe that resurrection will happen as we transition from this life. But as Jonathan Kozol suggested, rather ordinary resurrections can happen here and now. Weeping may last the night, but joy comes in the morning, in the smallest ways, and in the midst of life’s greatest challenges.

It all comes back to the story of Jesus, which is the heart of the matter. Hear the gospel according to the New York Times, with an opinion piece by David Brooks, a column which appeared last Friday. As he looks around at our world contending with power-hungry paganism, he affirms the possibility of light shining in that darkness. In the face of current political currents, he ties it back to Jesus. He writes:

For the Romans, the cross was a symbol of their power — their power to crucify. The early Christians took the cross as their symbol, too, but as a symbol for compassion, grace and self-sacrificial love. Christianity is built on a series of inversions that make paganism look pompous and soulless: Blessed are the meek. Blessed are the poor in spirit. The last shall be first. The poor are closer to God than the rich. Jesus was perpetually performing outrageous acts of radical generosity, without calculating the cost.

Having passed through that cross, he was resurrected. He stood again on Easter morning. Because of that, we can stand again as well. In the weeping that marks our nights, that may be hard to believe. But as people of faith, as people of hope, we are called to hold on to that possibility. We are helped in that as we embrace the stories of the Bible. We are helped in that as we witness ordinary resurrections around us. We are helped in that as we help others to stand again. How might you do that this week?

                                                    -Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 150

1 Hallelujah! Praise God in his holy temple;
praise him in the firmament of his power.

2 Praise him for his mighty acts;
praise him for his excellent greatness.

3 Praise him with the blast of the ram's-horn;
praise him with lyre and harp.

4 Praise him with timbrel and dance;
praise him with strings and pipe.

5 Praise him with resounding cymbals;
praise him with loud-clanging cymbals.

6 Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.
Hallelujah!

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Amazing praise how sweet the sound.

You’ve probably noticed that the psalms reflect a wide range of human emotions. You can find psalms of penitence and lament, psalms of confusion and doubt, psalms of warfare and vengeance. But whoever put the psalms together decided that the last psalms (145-150) should be characterized as psalms of praise. We see that in the psalm you may have heard in church yesterday, Psalm 150. We’ve reprinted it in this email, with its singular focus on praise. “Let everything that has breath praise the lord.” If you missed saying “alleluia” in Lent, these psalms are for you.

So a few questions emerge for me. What is the point of praise? What does it say that we worship a God who seems to insist on praise? Is God some narcissistic celestial political (dear) leader? There’s hubris in speculating that the God of creation depends on what we think of him. As the psalmist asks: What is man that thou art mindful of him?

The best answer I can come up with is not that the Holy One needs our affirmation. Rather, it seems to me that a posture of praise sets us in right relationship with our creator. If we understand that being righteous means to be in right relationship with God, then praise is an aspect of prayer that sets us in that relationship. C.S. Lewis said this about prayer: “It doesn’t change God. It changes me.” Mother Teresa made a similar point: “I used to believe that prayer changes things, but now I know that prayer changes us, and we change things.” With praise as one aspect of our prayer life, our relationship with the Holy One, we find ourselves changed, even converted by that offering of worship.

Another question: How does praise differ from thanksgiving? I had a rather pious great-aunt. I remember as a young person hearing her say: “God is good.” True enough, but she would say it when something good happened, everything from a good medical report to finding a parking space. I wondered if circumstances had worked out otherwise, would she feel differently about God’s goodness. All of that is to say that often a prayer of thanksgiving can have a slightly transactional quality, as we give thanks for blessings. If God comes through for me, then I’ll offer thanks. Truly spiritually evolved people may find it possible to give thanks in all things, including hardship. I don't think I’m not there yet.

Praise as distinct from thanksgiving focuses are hearts and minds on attributes of God that transcend circumstances of our lives. You can look at that last bunch of psalms and see all kinds of reasons for offering praise, from the marvels of creation to the gracious intervention of God in history. In those psalms, all of creation enters into praise, which is why the last verse in the psalms reads: Let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

A third question: How might praise become part of our spiritual practice? I’ll admit that much of my prayer life is presenting God with a list of things I’d like accomplished, thank you very much. It’s when I think of God as valet. An offering of praise, sometimes referred to as adoration, removes that transactional element, and brings us closer to the fulfillment of the first part of the great commandment: To love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength. We may not fully realize that kind of complete love in this lifetime, but I sense that offering praise brings us a step closer. It provides a pathway to grow in that relationship.

It's interesting to me that Psalm 150 suggests that music can be a great expression of praise. As the saying goes, the person who sings prays twice. Maybe that’s why Bach signed his compositions: Deo Gloria. To the glory of God. I have found this true of all kinds of artistic expression.

In our prayer life, entering into praise may simply mean spending more time in a contemplative mode, pondering with amazement the amazing truths of our faith. Maybe amazement is the key to praise. With that, I conclude with a quote from Abraham Heschel:

Our goal should be to live life in radical amazement…get up in the morning and look at the world in a way that takes nothing for granted. Everything is phenomenal; everything is incredible, never treat life casually. To be spiritual is to be amazed.

What leads you to offer praise this Monday morning? What do you find amazing?

- Jay Sidebotham

RenewalWorks shares some ideas to help you make the most out of Sunday

Based on data RenewalWorks has collected from over 350 Episcopal churches, embedding the Bible into the life of the church is one of the five best practices in spiritually vital churches.  It is also an area in which Episcopal respondents express an interest in learning more. This past week, we had a conversation about this principle with the current churches participating in the RenewalWorks program.

Previous RenewalWorks participant churches report deeper spiritual engagement when parishioners take the time to digest the upcoming Sunday readings. This practice not only fosters daily spiritual practices but also enhances understanding of the Bible and facilitates communication with God.

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.” Psalm 119:105

Last week, many of the current RenewalWorks churches wondered how the Sunday service and sermon experience could be enhanced if parishioners spent time during the week studying, reflecting on, and digesting these passages.

Below are two examples of churches that created resources for parishioners to examine and contemplate the upcoming Sunday readings.

After completing RenewalWorks, Rev. Jane Schmoetzer at All Saints' Episcopal Church in Richland, WA, began providing a weekly email with a reflection on one of the upcoming Sunday readings.  Fast forward a few years, and parishioners have now stepped forward to take responsibility for delivering the reflection. It is titled, the "Wednesday Word. " 

On the growth of the Wednesday Word at All Saints’, Rev Jane remarks,

“I never fail to be drawn in by these brief meditations.  It feels like spending a few moments in conversation with a faithful friend. Every time, the writer asks a question or offers an insight that stirs my own contemplation.  Often, they see something I may have missed or offer inspiration in a way I do not expect.

It’s also a reminder of the importance not only of reading scripture but doing so in community.  Reading the Bible on our own is an important practice; however, sharing the “variety of gifts” that God places in our hearts and minds is absolutely key to a fuller understanding of the Holy Spirit’s presence and leading.”

Rev. Peter Walsh, a member of the RenewalWorks advisory board and rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in New Canaan, CT, also sought ways to encourage reflection and understanding of the upcoming Sunday readings.  The church started recording a weekly podcast called "Rev'd Up for Sunday"  (available on Tuesdays) that features a clergy discussion centered on one reading. Since its introduction, its popularity and production have expanded beyond the parish of St. Mark’s.  Listeners gain an intimate view of how St. Mark’s priests- Fr. Peter, Rev. Elizabeth Garnsey, and Fr. John Kennedy- prepare for Sunday through a sometimes irreverent, often witty 30-minute conversation filled with love for our Lord.

Fr. Peter had this to say on the growth of Rev’d Up for Sunday as a spiritual practice,

“…coming out of the pandemic we were asking the question of what did our people need? Jesus and the Bible, the quick answer. Instantly, the pod idea. We started the next day with no idea how to do it. Now it is a central piece of our life together. It has radically changed the preaching, as now we all spend a lot of time studying the Bible and the life of Christ. I could never have preached the Easter sermon that I did without three years of pod behind it. More and more people in the parish are engaged with it, and it so fun for us to hear from people around the U.S. and from out of the country.” 

Pro tip: After listening to the pod, try viewing the Sunday sermon (available on the website) to witness the pod's impact on the sermons at St. Mark’s. In conjunction with attending one’s own church, reflecting on the Sunday passages in advance is a substantive way to delve deeply into studying scripture.

The two examples above are just a few of the resources shared during our RenewalWorks call.  Is your church offering another way to prepare for Sunday or for prereading the weekly Sunday readings? 

We love the opportunity to share good ideas and resources among our churches. If you have an idea or an example for us, please share it here.

Psalm 118:1-2,14-24

1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
his mercy endures for ever.

2 Let Israel now proclaim,
"His mercy endures for ever."

14 The Lord is my strength and my song,
and he has become my salvation.

15 There is a sound of exultation
and victory in the tents of the righteous:

16 "The right hand of the Lord has triumphed!
the right hand of the Lord is exalted!
the right hand of the Lord has triumphed!"

17 I shall not die, but live,
and declare the works of the Lord.

18 The Lord has punished me sorely,
but he did not hand me over to death.

19 Open for me the gates of righteousness;
I will enter them; I will offer thanks to the Lord.

20 "This is the gate of the Lord;
he who is righteous may enter."

21 I will give thanks to you,
for you answered me and have become my salvation.

22 The same stone which the builders rejected
has become the chief cornerstone.

23 This is the Lord's doing,
and it is marvelous in our eyes.

24 On this day the Lord has acted;
we will rejoice and be glad in it.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Dead end or threshold?

I’ve got a favorite photograph hanging in my office. It shows a roadside sign on a rickety trailer, with letters you can move around like old movie theaters. The trailer is positioned on a country road in front of a small church. It’s clearly been set out around Easter, because here’s what the sign says: The Lord is risen. No bingo.

I value the photo as a reminder to me that Easter makes a difference. Our faith tells us that it can make the difference in each one of our lives. We wake up this morning to a new season. Easter, more than just one day, is fifty days given to help us focus on good news, the possibility of resurrection. Those fifty days are meant to be extended so that all our days are shaped by the good news of Easter. In my own mind, the difference Easter makes has to do with transformation. A dead end turns into a threshold.

That kind of transformation is described throughout the Bible, perhaps most famously at the shore of the Red Sea, a story always read at the Great Vigil of Easter. The children of Israel think they are doomed. Great sea before them. Approaching army behind them. Apparently, no way out of this mess. And suddenly what had seemed to be a great obstacle is turned into a way forward, providing entry into a new life. A pathway emerges in front of them, right in the middle of the sea. The sea, portrayed in scripture as a place of threatening chaos, actually becomes a means of salvation. What other biblical stories can you cite which describe dead end turned into threshold? Sarah and Abraham. Elizabeth and Zechariah. Hannah. Ruth. Job.

It’s the message conveyed in Psalm 118, heard in church yesterday and reprinted above. The psalmist prays in praise: Open for me the gates of righteousness. Not unlike Psalm 100 which invites us to enter God’s gate with thanksgiving.

It’s the story of Easter morning, when everyone thought that the ministry of Jesus was a thing of the past. Then the stone which blocked the entrance is rolled away. A new, perhaps unimaginable future emerges. It’s a future not only for the one resurrected person. Easter morning made a difference for those first disciples. Before Easter, they had abandoned Jesus and thought their movement was over. Maybe they even thought it had all been a colossal mistake. After Easter, those same fickle disciples sacrifice their lives in devotion to the risen Christ. The world is soon changed by their witness. Easter made the difference.

John’s gospel says that Jesus is a door. The image invites us in this Easter season not only to note this as a biblical theme, but to see where it applies to our lives these days.  I suspect we all have run into dead ends. Maybe you’re facing one now. Maybe it’s a health challenge. A dead end job. A relationship that has died. A faith that no longer stirs your soul. It may be nearly impossible to imagine any good outcome, any way forward. To sign on to the Christian faith, to swim in the Christian stream, is to hold on to the possibility that a pathway will emerge. John Lennon is credited with this bit of wisdom: In the end, everything will be okay. If it’s not okay, it's not the end.

So Happy Easter. Break out the alleluias. Give thanks for the new life that is offered in Jesus. Remember those times when you faced a dead end and a way forward emerged. And if you find yourself facing a dead end this morning, without a threshold in sight, hang on to the hope, the possibility of God making a new creation. Pray for that way to be set before you.

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 31:9-16



9 Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble;
my eye is consumed with sorrow, and also my throat and my belly.

10 For my life is wasted with grief, and my years with sighing;
my strength fails me because of affliction, and my bones are consumed.

11 I have become a reproach to all my enemies and even to my neighbors,
a dismay to those of my acquaintance;
when they see me in the street they avoid me.

12 I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind;
I am as useless as a broken pot.

13 For I have heard the whispering of the crowd;
fear is all around; they put their heads together against me;
they plot to take my life.

14 But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord.
I have said, "You are my God.

15 My times are in your hand;
rescue me from the hand of my enemies,
and from those who persecute me.

16 Make your face to shine upon your servant,
and in your loving-kindness save me."

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Trouble

Do you ever wonder if people will remember you once you’re gone, maybe after you die, but also maybe after you move, or take a new job, or just fall out of a social circle? That wondering can be hard. And it’s hardly new. To be forgotten is just one element of human suffering indicated by the psalm heard in church yesterday (reprinted above).

That psalm, of which we read a portion, was crafted by someone who’s in trouble. Eyes filled with sorrow. Life wasted with grief. Strength failing. A reproach and dismay to the people around him. Actually, forgotten as if he was dead. Simply useless, like a broken ceramic pot, not good for anything. Happy Monday Morning to you, too. And happy Holy Week.

This psalm was read on Palm Sunday, a.k.a., the Sunday of the Passion, to kick off this most important week in the church year. By passion we mean suffering, a theme that grows in intensity this Holy Week as liturgies describe the suffering of Jesus. That suffering unfolds in many ways, including physical torture at the hands of taunting soldiers, callous religious leaders and feckless politicians. It culminates in one of the cruelest methods of capital punishment ever devised.

But as we move through this week, we find Jesus’ suffering has other dimensions. It comes not only with the opposition from those in power. It comes from those closest to him. They abandon him, betray him, deny him. In this Holy Week, meditate on the truth that the God of creation, present with us, was subjected to this kind of suffering.

Then also reflect on ways you may have felt like the psalmist. Are there times when you felt sorrow, wasted, strength gone, a reproach to people around you, or worse, have you ever felt forgotten? If indeed suffering is the promise life always keeps, we all are familiar with these experiences. They come with varying degrees of intensity and threat, but they show up in each of our lives. Sometimes, the folks who seem to gather the greatest elements of privilege are sometimes the ones who seem to suffer most. Go figure.

It can sustain us to know that the God of creation, present with us in Jesus Christ, knows that we have these experiences. More importantly, the Lord shared in them. That’s another way of saying that Jesus meets us with compassion, literally suffering along side of us. That means we are not alone in these experiences. It also means that we can show compassion to others.

Karen Armstrong, great scholar of the world’s faith traditions, says that the one value they hold in common is compassion. I love how St. Paul begins the second letter to the Corinthians. He wrote: Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all consolation, who consoles us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to console those who are in any affliction with the consolation with which we ourselves are consoled by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are abundant for us, so also our consolation is abundant through Christ. 

This week, see if perhaps you can put aside your own agenda and focus on Holy Week. Let each liturgy in which you participate focus your meditation on the passion of Christ. Marvel at the premise that the Lord of creation came among us to live a life marked by suffering. Give thanks for how that life brings us new life. And with an eye on that compassion, look for a way to show compassion to someone who comes across your path this week.

One last note: I mentioned that we only heard part of the psalm in church yesterday. If you’re looking for a focus for this Holy Week, you might read the whole psalm. Note in particular the verse in which the psalmist says: Into your hands I commend my spirit, an expression of deep trust that Jesus expressed on the cross, a message of trust we’re invited to embrace in whatever suffering comes our way. From start to finish, the psalm surrounds the vivid description of suffering with an affirmation of God’s loving presence. In God's mind, we are never forgotten. May we this week and in all the weeks to come sense that presence.

- Jay Sidebotham

Interested in RenewalWorks for your parish? Learn more about how RenewalWorks works!

RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the September 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!

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Psalm 126



1 When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
then were we like those who dream.

2 Then was our mouth filled with laughter,
and our tongue with shouts of joy.

3 Then they said among the nations,
"The Lord has done great things for them."

4 The Lord has done great things for us,
and we are glad indeed.

5 Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
like the watercourses of the Negev.

6 Those who sowed with tears
will reap with songs of joy.

7 Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed,
will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.

This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

I can dream, can't I?

In the psalm we heard yesterday in church, reprinted above there’s a reference to the Negev, an area in the Holy Land between the more fertile northern region of Israel and the barren desert to the south. Maybe you know that kind of place. I suspect we all have lived in that in-between space at one time or another.

The Negev is dry for most of the year. But for a short time, there’s enough rainfall up north so that water runs down into the Negev (hence the reference to watercourses). For ten or more months, with little rainfall, the land is dry. So dry, in fact, that when the water comes from the north, it can just run over the hard-packed earth. Unless of course, a farmer has anticipated water’s arrival and broken up hard terrain, maybe even planted some seeds. In other words, growth will happen if the farmer has hope that the water will come, and if the farmer believes in that hope so much that he prepares for it.

This is a psalm about hope. Maybe even more to the point, it is about dreams, as we can see in the first verse. It’s about imagining a better time, believing so much in the future realization of that dream that actions in present time are shaped by it. Which brings me to last Friday, the anniversary of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King’s death. 57 years ago. Hard to believe. Of course, any remembrance of Dr. King reminds us of his speech in 1963 when he spoke about a dream. He never realized the dream. On some days, I feel like it is further off than when he spoke. But that one image animated a movement that changed our nation, turning hardened hearts into fertile ground for greater justice.

When I started in ministry, an older priest told me that at least once a year, every rector should give an “I have a dream” speech. Each clergy person should let folks know what it is they hope will happen in days ahead. It’s good advice for clergy, for leadership of all kinds. And it can be a good exercise for anyone. What would be included in your “I have a dream” speech? What would you dream? What can you imagine this morning that is not yet a reality, something you really hope will come to pass?

Your church, your life, your job, your relationships may feel like the Negev, pretty unfruitful most of the time. But the psalm invites us to think of other possibilities Again, it has to do with hope, an essential Christian virtue. Jurgen Moltmann, great theologian who passed away this past year, focused his voluminous theological writings on hope, asking “Where would we stand if we did not take our stand on hope?” Jim Wallis described hope this way: “Hope is believing in spite of the evidence and watching the evidence change.” Tony Campolo spoke of hope with an eye on Holy Week. His vision was suggested in the title of his book: “It’s Friday but Sunday is coming.”

We come to end of the season of Lent, compared to a desert, to wilderness, a hard place, reflective of all the challenges we all know in life. (One priest I know regularly reminded his congregation that suffering is the promise life always keeps.) But Lent is also a season of preparation, as we get ready for the watercourses, the new life that comes with the one who said: I am the living water. In these final days of Lent, prepare the ground for the new thing God wants to do in the hardened soil of your life. What if anything are you expecting to happen in your life? Do you have an “I have a dream” speech? What seeds can you have ready? For those of us who sow with tears, hearts breaking with the brokenness of our world, may we anticipate the promises made in the psalm du jour. We may well go out weeping, carrying the seed, and we may well come again with joy, shouldering our sheaves.

- Jay Sidebotham

Interested in RenewalWorks for your parish? Learn more about how RenewalWorks works!

RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the September 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!

RenewalWorks - Digital Brochure

We begin with confession

In 2015, the current occupant of the White House was asked whether he had ever asked God for forgiveness. He answered: “I am not sure I have. I just go on and try to do a better job from there. I don’t think so, I think if I do something wrong, I think, I just try and make it right. I don’t bring God into that picture. I don’t.”

Truth be told, I sometimes feel the same way. When it comes time for confession in the liturgy, in moments of honesty, I can say to myself that I’m a pretty good guy and I don’t have anything right now, thank you very much. It has even occurred to me that God is lucky to have me on the team. How’s that for confession?

These thoughts were triggered by the psalm we heard in church yesterday (reprinted above). It talks a lot about the need for forgiveness, specifically, the need for God to forgive us. For instance, note verses 5 and 6: “I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not conceal my guilt. I said," I will confess my transgressions to the Lord." Then you forgave me the guilt of my sin.”

That need for forgiveness is addressed in confession as we take stock, as we take our own spiritual inventory, a spiritual practice calling to each one of us. I’ve been mulling over some wisdom from Anne Lamott. She said that the earth is forgiveness school. That certainly includes our capacity to forgive those who might have done us wrong. We all know those folks. But before we get there, it’s about recognizing our own need for forgiveness, and trusting that God offers forgiveness to us with exorbitant generosity.

I’m struck with the fact that in the journey of faith, confession is often the starting point. The daily office (morning and evening prayer) begin with a confession that we have not loved God with our whole heart, mind and strength. We have not loved neighbor as ourselves. There is never a day in my life when that is not my truth. When we gather for eucharist, we do not exchange the peace or move to reception of bread and wine until we have made confession. In the church calendar, we don’t get to Easter without going through the penitential season of Lent with its persistent call to repentance, an admission that we’re going in the wrong direction, that we have missed the mark. It’s the wisdom of the Twelve Steps which begin with confession that our lives have become unmanageable and goes on to call for an admission of ways we had gone wrong.

So what is so important about confession? First of all, it’s getting to the truth about ourselves. If you heard the Parable of the Prodigal Son in church yesterday, it's that moment with the inheritance-wasting, pig-feeding screw up of a son "came to himself and said...I will get up and go to my father and say to him, "I have sinned against heaven and before you." (Luke 15:17,18)

While I have already confessed to readers that I’m fully able to gloss over the truth of my own transgressions, I have been helped in Lent by reflecting each morning on the Litany of Penitence, from the Ash Wednesday liturgy (p. 267 in the Book of Common Prayer). It’s an expanded confession and it’s got something for everyone. Have a look and see if there isn’t some way that it shines a mirror on who you are and how you are in the world. The phrase that has hit me this season is “I have not been true to the mind of Christ.” That’s undoubtedly true for me, as it invites me to explore the mystery of that holy mind.

Second, confession allows us to experience the forgiveness of the Holy One. A smart friend of mine converted to Christianity after years as committed atheism. He came to me one day and said: “I think I get the gospel: I’m not okay. You’re not okay. And that’s okay.” He had grasped the freedom that comes in believing that God’s intention is to offer us forgiveness. “If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins.” I John 1:8,9) 

Third, it motivates us to offer forgiveness to those around us. If we’re honest about the ways we have fallen short, and if we have some sense that God knows us and still loves us, the door is open for us to extend forgiveness to those who may have done us wrong. We all have those people in our lives. We have all been those people in the lives of others. But that does not need to be the final word. There is indeed a way to move forward, as Desmond Tutu notably noted: There is no future without forgiveness.

So as we have a few more days in Lent, think about why confession matters in your life, and how it can be a threshold to a life marked by renewal.

-Jay Sidebotham

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Interested in RenewalWorks for your parish? Learn more about how RenewalWorks works!

RenewalWorks: Helping churches focus on spiritual growth

RenewalWorks is about re-orienting your parish around spiritual growth. And by spiritual growth – we mean growing in love of God and neighbor.

Churches can launch as part of a fall or spring cohort or go on their own schedule. (Now accepting signups for the September 2025 cohort)  Sign up now!