18 Be not far away, O Lord; you are my strength; hasten to help me.
19 Save me from the sword, my life from the power of the dog.
20 Save me from the lion's mouth, my wretched body from the horns of wild bulls.
21 I will declare your Name to my brethren; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.
22 Praise the Lord, you that fear him; stand in awe of him, O offspring of Israel; all you of Jacob's line, give glory.
23 For he does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty; neither does he hide his face from them; but when they cry to him he hears them.
24 My praise is of him in the great assembly; I will perform my vows in the presence of those who worship him.
25 The poor shall eat and be satisfied, and those who seek the Lord shall praise him: "May your heart live for ever!"
26 All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations shall bow before him.
27 For kingship belongs to the Lord; he rules over the nations.
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.
Blessed are the poor
According to Psalm 22, a portion of which we read in church yesterday (and reprinted above), we praise the Lord because he “does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty. Neither does he hide his face from them.” The phrase got me thinking about the persistent scriptural message affirming "preferential option for the poor," a phrase from theologians serving among some of the poorest folks in Latin America.
The first instructions to the children of Israel called for care for those in need, especially strangers and refugees. The psalms repeatedly call for attention to those on the margins. Jesus in Luke’s gospel says “Blessed are the poor.” The New Testament Letter of James defines true religion as caring for widows and orphans, i.e, those who are on the margins, those deemed dispensable.
The phrase from Psalm 22 also made me think of what I’ve been hearing from some Christian leaders. Our new presiding bishop, Sean Rowe, preached at the National Cathedral in early February, one of his first big pieces of communication outlining his vision. He said: “We’re told by the kings and the rulers of the day that the rich shall be first. That somehow compassion is weakness…In the kingdom of God, the meek shall inherit the earth. The last will be first. The merciful shall receive mercy, and the captives go free…Those who have been considered at the margins are at the center. Their struggles reveal to us the kingdom of God.”
Before he died, Pope Francis said: “If we truly wish to encounter Christ, we have to touch his body in the suffering bodies of the poor, as a response to the sacramental communion bestowed in the Eucharist. The Body of Christ, broken in the sacred liturgy, can be seen, through charity and sharing, in the faces and persons of the most vulnerable of our brothers and sisters. Saint John Chrysostom’s admonition remains ever timely: “If you want to honor the body of Christ, do not scorn it when it is naked; do not honor the Eucharistic Christ with silk vestments, and then, leaving the church, neglect the other Christ suffering from cold and nakedness’.”
Francis’ successor picks up that same theme. Drawing from the Psalms as well as the experience of those facing poverty, Pope Leo XIV calls Christians to recognize the poor not as “objects of charity but as protagonists of hope.” He spoke on the Feast Day of Saint Anthony of Padua, patron of the poor, and called for rediscovery of Christian hope as a response to instability in our world. The Pope noted how the poor, though deprived of material security, often embody a deep and enduring hope. “They cannot rely on the security of power and possessions... their hope must necessarily be sought elsewhere,” he writes. In this vulnerability, the Pope explains, we too pass from fleeting hopes to a lasting hope. He noted that the gravest form of poverty is not to know God.
Mother Teresa had similar thoughts on the nature of poverty: “The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty -- it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There's a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God.”
Paul Farmer a model of what it means to be a Christian servant noted that the basis of preferential option for the poor is to say: “I accompany them not because they are all good, or because I am all good, but because God is good.” Dorothy Day said: “The Gospel takes away our right forever, to discriminate between the deserving and the undeserving poor.”
In a world where the poor are demonized and relief efforts diminished for the sake of political advantage, where preachers promise prosperity for personal gain, I need to attend to the voices of these followers of Jesus
One more thought from Dorothy Day: “Those who cannot see Christ in the poor are atheists indeed.” This Monday morning, I share the wisdom of these Christian leaders mindful of how I fall short of their vision. I share with the aspiration that their wisdom can guide us all into a deeper sense of community and responsibility for each other as we seek to fulfill the commandment to love neighbor as self. For me, that is a work in progress.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 8New Revised Standard Version
1 O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.
2 Out of the mouths of babes and infants you have founded a bulwark because of your foes, to silence the enemy and the avenger.
3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established;
4 what are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?
5 Yet you have made them a little lower than God and crowned them with glory and honor.
6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet,
7 all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field,
8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the seas.
9 O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth!
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.
What are humans that you are mindful of them?
Good question.
You may have heard the observation: I love humanity. It’s people I can’t stand. The quote is variously attributed to Charles Schulz (actually Linus in one of the cartoon strips), Albert Einstein and Fyodor Doestoevsky, among others. It points to truth we all can affirm, that we have fallen short of the glory of God, to borrow a phrase from St. Paul. Even the most noble among us could prompt the queston: What are humans that God is mindful of them?
The question is posed by Psalm 8, which you may have heard yesterday at church (and is reprinted above). It’s a psalm selected for the observance of Trinity Sunday, the one Sunday of the year dedicated to a doctrine of the church. It’s a doctrine set forth by the church some centuries after Jesus’ ministry, suggested but not explicitly set forth in scripture. Volumes have been written to try to explain it. A lot of what’s been written shows theologians tying themselves in knots with less than satisfactory metaphors, all in hopes of describing the character of God in accessible language.
I’m satisfied to live with the mystery, with limited understanding of heavenly dynamics, trusting that someday all will be revealed. The thing I feel able to say about the doctrine of the Trinity is that God is presented as a community, a personal presence whose essence is relationship.
One of the books most helpful to me over the years was written by Martin Smith. It’s called The Word Is Very Near You, a book about how to pray with scripture. I was particularly helped by the chapter entitled “God is a conversation.” His point is that there is an ongoing, eternal conversation between Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The amazing premise of our faith is that we are invited into that conversation. We have a seat at the table. We’re in the room when it happens. Which leads to the question: What are humans that God is mindful of them?
Here's how Psalm 8 addresses that question. On the one hand, the psalm celebrates the majesty of God. We could spend time trying to reclaim that word “majesty,” to think beyond the understanding we might get from watching The Crown. Psalm 8 in this translation refers to God as sovereign. In other versions, God is referred to as governor, the only place in scripture where God is referred to as such. Interesting choice of words, suggesting that God is in charge, even when it can seem like no one is in charge these days. But it’s way more than simply God as manager or caretaker. The psalm reminds us that all of creation owes its existence to this governor.
And here’s the kicker. We are invited into relationship, into conversation with that holy power. In fact, we’re given responsibility to care for all that God has made, delegated by the governor of all things. The question for us then, this Monday morning: What are we doing with that responsibility?
The doctrine of the Trinity may seem abstract. But it reminds us that the source of all life is the power of love. Augustine wrote lengthy volumes about the Trinity, some of which I've understood. What I have been able to take away is that Augustine presents the Trinity as love. God the father the lover. Jesus as the beloved. The Holy Spirit as the love that flows between them. More recently, former Presiding Bishop Michael Curry put it this way: If it’s not about love, it’s not about God. That’s not a bad doctrine of the trinity. Can we believe that is true of the governor, the sovereign of the universe?
Once we wrap our pea brains around that, recognizing the amazing grace of the invitation to be part of that loving exchange, can we show that love to all of creation, especially to our neighbors. That can be the hard part. Rowan Williams put it this way: The one thing you know for certain about your tiresome, annoying, disobedient, disedifying fellow Christians is that God has welcomed them. That becomes your challenge.
Celebrate the amazing grace that God is mindful of each one of us. And as you wrap your mind around the mystery of that relationship, the marvel of that love, the hope of that invitation, find a way this week to extend it to those around you. Widen that holy conversation.
-Jay Sidebotham
We are excited to announce that RenewalWorks has a new website! RenewalWorks.org was designed with an easy-to-navigate layout, clear pathways to resources, and an intuitive design, making it easier than ever to discover all that RenewalWorks has to offer. Be sure to also check out the new introductory video on our homepage. It describes the research behind the RenewalWorks initiative as well as our process, support, and outcome examples.
While churches have many reasons for engaging RenewalWorks, they all center on our core mission of assisting parishes in creating vibrant communities, oriented around the spiritual deepening of its individuals. Whether you're a church leader or an interested parishioner, RenewalWorks looks forward to sharing our findings from over 350 Episcopal churches and best practices for how to refocus church culture on nourishing and growing our love of God and neighbor.
We invite you to explore the website and video to discover how you can engage with RenewalWorks. We are currently speaking with churches interested in the September RenewalWorks cohort. If you are interested in joining this group, please reach out to have a conversation with RenewalWorks staff or register here.
Psalm 104:25-35, 37
25 O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures.
26 Yonder is the great and wide sea with its living things too many to number, creatures both small and great.
27 There move the ships, and there is that Leviathan, which you have made for the sport of it.
28 All of them look to you to give them their food in due season.
29 You give it to them; they gather it; you open your hand, and they are filled with good things.
30 You hide your face, and they are terrified; you take away their breath, and they die and return to their dust.
31 You send forth your Spirit, and they are created; and so you renew the face of the earth.
32 May the glory of the Lord endure for ever; may the Lord rejoice in all his works.
33 He looks at the earth and it trembles; he touches the mountains and they smoke.
34 I will sing to the Lord as long as I live; I will praise my God while I have my being.
35 May these words of mine please him; I will rejoice in the Lord.
37 Bless the Lord, O my soul. 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.
It's delightful!
Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
-G.K.Chesterton
A friend who, with his wife, runs a café that serves absolutely delicious food says that the mission for the enterprise is to offer food that is delightful. (Note: the café is called Spoonfed, in Wilmington, NC Worth a visit!) Delightful is an interesting word to use in that context, and perhaps a word in short supply in our world. I’m wondering to what extent the word has application in the spiritual realm, among religious people.
A friend confessed to me that she would start jogging when it looked like people who were jogging were having fun. We could say the same about church life. H.L.Mencken, journalist from the early 20th century, someone with sharp and snarky wit, offered this as a description of a Puritan, which may apply to religious people of all sorts. He said a puritan is someone who is unhappy because somebody somewhere is having a good time. I’m wondering if you know religious people like that.
Scripture reveals to us a God who knows about delight. We can see that especially in the psalms. The psalm heard yesterday in church on the Feast of Pentecost (reprinted above), speaks of the joy in God’s creation and includes this interesting note. Speaking of the work of creation, the psalm says that the creator made the leviathan just for the sport of it. In this context, the leviathan may well be a reference to a whale, an extraordinary creature for sure. But that whale is not the only one of God’s creatures that points to a divine sense of humor. Whimsy mixed with beauty surrounds us in creation. Little wonder that at the end of the days of creation God surveyed all that had been made and declared that it was all good. Dare I say, delightful.
Because it is the character of creator God to take delight in creation, we also are called to live with a sense of delight. Psalm 37.4 invites us to take delight in the Lord, with the promise that God will give us the desires of our hearts. Fast forward to the New Testament, Jesus told his disciples that he came to bring them joy, that their joy might be full or complete (John 15.11). He came to give them life, and to give it abundantly (John 10.10).
We can dive into delight even when circumstances may seem less than delightful. We saw what that looks like recently in a Sunday reading from the book of Acts. Paul and Silas are stuck in prison, and we find them singing hymns and offering hymns of praise. St. Francis of Assisi, called the most admired and least imitated of saints, chose a life of poverty and encountered those in greatest need in his community. Yet across the centuries, he is remembered for a spirit of Joy. Recently, we’ve had the privilege of eavesdropping on conversations between the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, chronicled in The Book of Joy. They both knew deep personal suffering in the face of systemic injustice. Yet their joy was irrepressible and contagious. Laughter was vigorous. How do we follow their examples, especially when joy seems elusive and delight seems distant?
I’m mindful of a prayer we offer for people when they are baptized. We ask that they may experience joy and wonder in all God’s works. Joy and wonder sound like a good definition of delight. Perhaps we can offer that prayer for ourselves and those we love each morning. We can do our part to realize that prayer by identifying those things that give us delight, giving thanks for them. And we can commit those delightful things to God’s usefulness in the world.
How might you take delight in the Lord this Monday?
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 97
1 The Lord is King; let the earth rejoice; let the multitude of the isles be glad.
2 Clouds and darkness are round about him, righteousness and justice are the foundations of his throne.
3 A fire goes before him and burns up his enemies on every side.
4 His lightnings light up the world; the earth sees it and is afraid.
5 The mountains melt like wax at the presence of the Lord, at the presence of the Lord of the whole earth.
6 The heavens declare his righteousness, and all the peoples see his glory.
7 Confounded be all who worship carved images and delight in false gods! Bow down before him, all you gods.
8 Zion hears and is glad, and the cities of Judah rejoice, because of your judgments, O Lord.
9 For you are the Lord, most high over all the earth; you are exalted far above all gods.
10 The Lord loves those who hate evil; he preserves the lives of his saints and delivers them from the hand of the wicked.
11 Light has sprung up for the righteous, and joyful gladness for those who are truehearted.
12 Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous, and give thanks to his holy Name.
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.
Where are you giving your heart?
In any number of places in scripture, people who turn to idols are condemned. Early in the Bible, as the ten commandments were set in stone, they start by warning against having any graven image, having another god before the God of Israel. As the history of the people of Israel unfolded, when they got in trouble, it was often because they had turned to some graven image, whether a golden calf at the foot of Mt. Sinai, or statues that came with the worship of Baal. Denunciations of idol worship continue throughout the writings of the prophets, and carry over to the first days of the church, when St. Paul writes, in the beginning of his letter to the Romans, about those who mistake the creation for the creator.
The denunciation of idol worship is a persistent theme in the psalms, including the psalm heard in church yesterday, reprinted above. It’s a psalm which celebrates God as sovereign. At the same time, it warns against finding some other god to worship. I was particularly struck with verse 7: Confounded be all who worship carved images and delight in false gods.
My initial reaction to this and other biblical references to idol worship is that of an anthropologist. How quaint. Isn’t it interesting how these primitive people thought that something they created, carved of wood or stone, was worthy of worship. So glad we don’t think like that anymore, now that we’re enlightened and all that.
Yet I’m enough of a student of Jesus’ teaching that whenever I get thinking how dumb or naïve or off track other people are, I better be careful that I don’t have a big honking log in my own eye.
Scripture’s warnings about idolatry are all about where we give our heart. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus issues this somewhat chilling caution, which we hear on Ash Wednesday. He says, "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." That sentence always stops me in my tracks, making me think honestly about what it is I treasure. Sometimes stupid stuff. Sometimes unholy stuff. I hold that verse in tandem with the wisdom of the desert father, Abba Poemem, who said, “Do not give your heart to that which does not satisfy your heart.”
All of which is to recognize that on a personal level, there are all kinds of things I treasure, all kinds of places where my heart is focused that draw me from the love of God. On a corporate level, in a systemic way, as bigger communities like denominations or nations, we commit ourselves to things that will not satisfy the heart, and don't do us any good..
While we may not take a chunk of wood or stone and decide that it represents the power of the almighty, we do have any number of objects that in our practice are granted ultimate value. There’s always money, for starters, and our worship of financial security, with that gnawing sense that whatever we have is not enough. We might devote our lives to proving we are worthy of God’s love, or worse, that God is lucky to have us on the team. That’s idolatry. We might worship jobs, careers, education, fitness, self-righteous indignation, political correctness (across the political spectrum), approval of family or friends, acceptance in the right social circle, admission to the right school or club, good sermon reviews at the door after church. These are not necessarily bad things. They are simply things that will not sustain us. They are ultimately not life-giving.
The problem with idolatry, seems to me, is not that it annoys a narcissistic deity who needs attention. Instead, when we give ultimate value to something that is not ultimately satisfying, or fulfilling, or meaningful, we are diminished in our humanity. We are drawn away from the love of God. When we worship that which we have created, we pick a god that is simply too small (See J.B.Phillips classic book Your God Is Too Small.)
What’s the answer? Another key line from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount: "Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness. And all these things shall be added to you." Think this week about any idols you might have hanging around in your life. Take a step to set them aside and rejoice in the God of love who rules all things. Seek first the kingdom of that God.
-Jay Sidebotham
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
An offering from
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