Psalm 15
1 Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle?
who may abide upon your holy hill?
2 Whoever leads a blameless life and does what is right,
who speaks the truth from his heart.
3 There is no guile upon his tongue; he does no evil to his friend;
he does not heap contempt upon his neighbor.
4 In his sight the wicked is rejected,
but he honors those who fear the Lord.
5 He has sworn to do no wrong
and does not take back his word.
6 He does not give his money in hope of gain,
nor does he take a bribe against the innocent.
7 Whoever does these things shall never be overthrown.
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. Please note that these days in the church, there are two tracks of readings in the lectionary, offering a choice of psalms. Your church may or may not have read the psalm included in this email.
There is Always Something
A favorite novel, “All The King’s Men,” written by Robert Penn Warren, describes the political power of a charismatic populist politician named Willie Stark, modeled on Huey Long. As governor of a southern state, Willie Stark wielded power and bent rules and found himself running up against what everyone thought was an unimpeachable judge. The narrator of the novel and the political leader had this exchange, a key message I recall from the novel:
“It all began, as I have said, when the Boss, sitting in the black Cadillac which sped through the night, said to me (to Me who was what Jack Burden, the student of history, had grown up to be) "There is always something." And I said, "Maybe not on the Judge." And he said, "Man is conceived in sin and born in corruption and he passeth from the stink of the didie (childish version of the word “diaper”) to the stench of the shroud. There is always something.”
Sounds to me like Willie Stark may have been reading St. Paul, who said in his letter to the Romans that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.
As a practical joke, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of Sherlock Holmes mysteries, sent a telegram to each of 12 friends. All were men of great virtue and respected in society. The telegram simply read, “Flee! All has been discovered.” Within 24 hours, the story goes, all 12 had left the country! Maybe Sir Arthur agreed with Willie Stark and St. Paul. Maybe there is always something.
Then we hear from the author of Psalm 15, a psalm which you may have heard in church yesterday. The psalm begins with a question: Lord, who may dwell in your tabernacle? Who may abide upon your holy hill? If I were to paraphrase, the psalmist asks: Who among us makes the cut? Are we all too compromised to be worthy of standing in the house of the Lord?
The psalmist outlines a pretty high bar, which I suspect none of us would ever clear. We’re talking about someone who leads a blameless life, always speaks the truth, guileless, without contempt for others, sworn to do no wrong, unbribable. That’s the kind of person who will “never be overthrown.” Here’s the rub. I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone who totally fills that bill.
So where does that leave us? Is there hope for any of us?
I take the psalm as aspirational. As people of faith, we are called to take steps towards making that vision a reality in our lives. It is to press on toward the goal of the high calling of God in Jesus Christ (another quote from St. Paul). At the same time, as people of faith, we take to heart what St. Paul said about all of us sinning. Or as Reinhold Neibuhr, Billy Graham, G.K.Chesterton and Paul Tillich each noted in his own way, original sin is the one empirically verifiable doctrine of the church.
That’s part of the reason we don’t get very far in our liturgies before we offer confession, summing up our shortcomings with the recognition that we have not loved God with our whole heart. We have not loved neighbor as self. There’s not a day when that summation is not true of my life.
That's why the gospel is all about grace. We rely on mercy, on forgiveness. And as we enjoy that great gift, we can then embrace the freedom to take steps towards that kind of blameless life, a life of integrity and kindness. We can show grace as we come to know grace. Of course, we won’t always get it right. But we face all kinds of growth opportunities to move in that direction, to realize that aspiration. How might you seize those opportunities this week?
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 25:1-9
1 To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul; my God, I put my trust in you;
let me not be humiliated, nor let my enemies triumph over me.
2 Let none who look to you be put to shame;
let the treacherous be disappointed in their schemes.
3 Show me your ways, O Lord,
and teach me your paths.
4 Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation;
in you have I trusted all the day long.
5 Remember, O Lord, your compassion and love,
for they are from everlasting.
6 Remember not the sins of my youth and my transgressions;
remember me according to your love and for the sake of your goodness, O Lord.
7 Gracious and upright is the Lord;
therefore he teaches sinners in his way.
8 He guides the humble in doing right
and teaches his way to the lowly.
9 All the paths of the Lord are love and faithfulness
to those who keep his covenant and his testimonies.
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. Please note that these days in the church, there are two tracks of readings in the lectionary, offering a choice of psalms. Your church may or may not have read the psalm included in this email.
Be Thou My Vision
A priest who led a large urban parish chose to open the doors of the church to those who were unhoused. It was a beautiful ministry, especially when weather was extreme. But it was not universally embraced. One pillar of the parish told the rector that he didn’t like all these people in his church. The rector responded that it was not his church. It was not her church. It was God’s church.
The rector was later asked how she was able to lead this congregation, given these kinds of concerns about her open-door policy. She said that she tries to see Christ in every person who walks through the door. She added that Christ sometimes comes very well disguised. I never heard whether she referred to the unhoused people in need of a shower, or the entitled parishioner registering complaint. In which case was it harder to see Christ? I’m not sure. But this story made me think this week about how we look at each other.
Our tradition has something to say on the subject. One baptismal promise says we are to seek and serve Christ in all persons. Not all fellow parishioners. Not all Episcopalians. Not all Americans. All of them. Another promise says we are to respect the dignity of every human being. That promise bears the same expansive, no-exceptions principle. When it comes to how we look at each other, we have agency. We have choice in the matter. I have no illusions that the choice is easy.
The psalm reprinted above, a psalm read yesterday in many churches, tells us that God shows us the way. God makes that kind of choice. The psalmist offers a prayer, asking God not to judge him based on the sins of his youth. Instead, the psalmist asks God to regard him through the lens of God's compassion and love. God clearly has the option to keep score of all the ways we have messed up. Lord knows, we all have done stupid, even hateful things in our youth, and in the years that follow.
The message of the psalm, indeed a message woven throughout scripture, suggests the widening of God’s mercy. Scripture offers no illusions that we have it all together in our youth (or in our dotage). Name a prominent biblical character besides our Lord and Savior who has not revealed a seriously flawed character, a fallen nature.
But God chooses to regard us with mercy, seen nowhere more clearly than in the holy presence of Jesus, the offering of his very life leading to new life, leading to reconciliation. He is the one who chose to look on his executioners this way: “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
The implication, the so-what factor for us is that if God chooses to regard us in this way, we are called to do the same in relationships with others. Maybe when we sing that hymn “Be thou my vision,” we’re asking for the godly perspective that looks at others with compassion, not with judgment.
How might you be called to do that this week? Christ is present in each person you will encounter this week. Can we believe that? Each person is made in the image of God? Really? Each one? In a season of partisan divide, can we choose to see each other through a lens of compassion and grace? (Note: I'm not claiming to be there yet.)
Can we let go of resentments for stupid and hurtful things that people have done to us and offer forgiveness and compassion? Can we let go of regret over stupid and hurtful things we have done, and forgive ourselves? It doesn’t mean that those stupid and hurtful things don’t matter. Rather, it’s an invitation to look at them differently. The psalm challenges me to recognize what is good in each of us, made in the image of God, Christ present. Consider the wisdom of Dorothy Day. She said: “I really only love God as much as the person I love the least.”
Give it a try. Think of a person who is really bugging you. Can you see some goodness in that person? Can you see Christ in that person? Think of foolish and hurtful things you have done? Can you see Christ in you, the hope of glory (Colossians 1:27)?
-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. Please note that these days in the church, there are two tracks of readings in the lectionary, offering a choice of psalms. Your church may or may not have read the psalm included in this email.
Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
This saying has been attributed to Oscar Wilde, John Lennon, the Brazilian writer Fernando Sabino, another Brazilian author Paulo Coelho, and others. The statement has turned up on the television series “Judging Amy” and in the 2011 film “The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.”
Any number of folks might take credit, but at its heart, it’s a biblical idea. It’s the story of the parting of the Red Sea when the children of Israel thought they were goners, or the resurrection of Jesus when on Good Friday, the disciples thought they had made a big mistake. It’s the message of that famous chapter from Ecclesiastes that the Byrds turned into popular anthem: To everything (turn, turn, turn) there is a season…A time to weep and a time to laugh. It’s the message of the beatitudes as Jesus says that those who mourn are blessed for they will be comforted.
Even when things look grim, the prospect of a hopeful ending can be found throughout the psalms, and especially in a psalm which was part of lectionary selections you may have heard in church yesterday (reprinted above). The psalmist says that weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning. He recalls times he felt absolutely secure, and times when he felt God had deliberately hidden from him. He knows wailing and he knows dancing. He’s clothed himself in sack-cloth and he has been clothed with joy. I’m wondering this Monday morning where you find yourself.
Emily Dickinson said that she believed and disbelieved a hundred times an hour. She said it made her faith nimble. Let's just say she knew a range of spiritual experiences. After the death of Mother Teresa, it was revealed that she spent much of her life in despair, feeling that God had hidden from her. Sounds like that’s the way the psalmist felt. It seems to me a great gift of the psalms in particular that the full range of human emotions and experience are represented. Among other things, it helps us when we feel more like wailing than dancing to know that there will be a time when the dance floor will be open.
We need help navigating those darker passages. It may help to realize that other folks have gone through those passages for a long time. It may help to know that Jesus had moments of agonizing uncertainty in the garden of Gethsemane. And when we have come through those moments, when morning has broken with joy, we may develop a deeper sense of empathy for those who are still in the depths.
This Monday morning, prayers are with those who are doing more weeping than dancing. The despair may have to do with personal circumstances. It may have to do with the state of our broken world. Our prayer is that the quote from John Lennon (or whoever) is more than Hallmark card sentiment, more than wishful thinking. We pray that it reveals a fundamental truth expressed so beautifully in the 14th century by Julian of Norwich: All shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well. Do we dare to believe it?
Wishing you well this day.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20
1 I will cry aloud to God;
I will cry aloud, and he will hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I sought the Lord;
my hands were stretched out by night and did not tire; I refused to be comforted.
11 I will remember the works of the Lord,
and call to mind your wonders of old time.
12 I will meditate on all your acts
and ponder your mighty deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy;
who is so great a god as our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders
and have declared your power among the peoples.
15 By your strength you have redeemed your people,
the children of Jacob and Joseph.
16 The waters saw you, O God;
the waters saw you and trembled; the very depths were shaken.
17 The clouds poured out water;
the skies thundered;
your arrows flashed to and fro;
18 The sound of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
your lightnings lit up the world; the earth trembled and shook.
19 Your way was in the sea,
and your paths in the great waters,
yet your footsteps were not seen.
20 You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
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. Please note that these days in the church, there are two tracks of readings in the lectionary, offering a choice of psalms. Your church may or may not have read the psalm included in this email.
What have you done for me lately?
What have you done for me lately?
Is such a common attitude.
What have you done for me lately?
Is how old friends show their gratitude.
Now just when you need a little support
Their faces get long and their memories get short.
What have you done for me lately?
Lately I've been doing without you
- Steve Goodman
Often when I read stories about the children of Israel, I think of the song by folksinger Steve Goodman. In collaboration with Shel Silverstein, he wrote “What have you done for me lately.” (Steve Goodman is probably best known for writing the song “City of New Orleans.” For Chicago friends, Goodman wrote “Go Cubs Go.” He died of leukemia at age 34, a great loss to the music world.)
So what’s the biblical connection to “What have you done for me lately?” It would be funny if it wasn’t sad. Funny if it wasn’t still true of us. The Israelites were delivered from oppressive slavery in Egypt with a series of remarkable miracles. Having been liberated, they find themselves on the shores of the Red Sea where they accuse God of bringing them there to die. The sea opens up before them, a pathway to new life. The enemy vanquished, it’s not long before they’re complaining about having no water. Water gushes from a rock. Problem solved. They praise God, for the moment. Then they get hungry. Learning of their dissatisfaction with room service, God sends manna from heaven. They get sick of eating that holy bread, so God sends quail. You get the idea.
The call for an attitude of gratitude is strong in scripture. It usually involves a recollection of how God has acted with grace in the past. C.S.Lewis said that in the journey of faith, we don’t so much need to be instructed as we need to be reminded. So the scriptures, especially the psalms, do a lot of reminding. The Bible tells the story of salvation, deliverance, provision over and over. (Case in point: the psalm reprinted above, which you may have heard in church yesterday.) The book of Deuteronomy calls on people to teach their children, to pass on the stories of how again and again God had met them in a time of need. Fast forward to the last supper. Jesus meets with his disciples the night before he dies and calls on them to take the bread and wine, and to do so in remembrance of him.
That injunction has been carried over into the liturgy for Holy Eucharist. In the prayer over bread and wine, there’s a portion in which we recall good things God has done for us: the beauty of creation, the calling of God’s people, the hope of salvation in Jesus. That section of the eucharistic prayer is called anamnesis. That literally means “not amnesia.” “Not forgetting.” We are reminded week and after week because we are a forgetful sort. Meanwhile, many of us live life before God asking: What have you done for me lately?’
What might we do to counter that tendency? Maybe we're asking the wrong question. Maybe it should not be "What have you done for me lately?" Maybe the question should be "How can I live in a way that reflects the grace I've received?" Asked another way: "How can I be of service?"
For more than 45 years, I've had the privilege of knowing a saint who showed me how to ask the right questions. My 96 year old father-in-law went to be with Jesus last Saturday morning. He was a bright light in his generation. He died doing what he loved: fishing. He would often call early in the morning and ask: "How can I help you today?" while many of his contemporaries had long lists of things for their children to do. He knew grace in his own life which allowed him to show grace to others. He was guided by St. Francis' prayer, asking to be God instrument. He leaves a big gap for many. But his parting offers space for us to ask the right question: "How can I be of service today?"
I often recommend a regularly scheduled look in the spiritual rear view mirror, to reflect on how God has acted in our lives. It’s not always easy to see that holy activity in the moment. In retrospect, we have a chance to see where divine providence has acted. We are called to notice those moments, to give thanks for them. And when changes and chances of life cause us to wonder what God is up to, or to feel as if God has forgotten or abandoned us, we can look back on those moments and act in confidence that God is with us. That God is for us. And we can look to bright lights in our own generation, like my father-in-law, to see how others have put faith to work in the world, how we can know grace and then show grace.
I’m praying this morning for those who look back on their lives and sense that God has been absent, inactive. For those who can cite moments of holy activity, let those recollections sustain in the days ahead, when inevitable challenges present themselves. Know that God is with us. Know that God is for us. Know that God loves us. Know that we're called to share that love, asking "How can I be of service today?"
- Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 22:18-27
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 8 New 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
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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
