Psalm 66:7-18
7 Bless our God, you peoples; make the voice of his praise to be heard;
8 Who holds our souls in life, and will not allow our feet to slip.
9 For you, O God, have proved us; you have tried us just as silver is tried.
10 You brought us into the snare; you laid heavy burdens upon our backs.
11 You let enemies ride over our heads; we went through fire and water; but you brought us out into a place of refreshment.
12 I will enter your house with burnt-offerings and will pay you my vows, which I promised with my lips and spoke with my mouth when I was in trouble.
13 I will offer you sacrifices of fat beasts with the smoke of rams; I will give you oxen and goats.
14 Come and listen, all you who fear God, and I will tell you what he has done for me.
15 I called out to him with my mouth, and his praise was on my tongue.
16 If I had found evil in my heart, the Lord would not have heard me;
17 But in truth God has heard me; he has attended to the voice of my prayer.
18 Blessed be God, who has not rejected my prayer, nor withheld his love from me.
This year, Monday Matters is focused 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.
Finding a foundation
One of my favorite hymns in the Episcopal hymnal is #665. The first line of the first stanza: All my hope on God is founded. The hymn tune was composed by Herbert Howells. He gave the hymn tune the title “Michael,” the name of Howell’s son who had died in childhood the year before the tune was written. I’m always moved by that fact that as Howell bore that unspeakable and unimaginable loss, he let his considerable musical gifts be applied to a text that affirmed a strong foundation of hope.
That ability to take a stand on hope seems to be the experience of the author of the psalm heard in churches yesterday and reprinted abovel. It’s a psalm blessing God as one who holds our souls in life and will not allow our feet to slip. It’s not pie in the sky stuff. It does not deny or sugar coat the difficulties life throws our way. The psalmist describes the ways that life has been hard, including the ways that God has presented him with challenges. Yet it is a strong expression of confidence that God is in charge, that God will not allow our feet to slip, that in relationship with God a strong foundation can be discovered.
How do we find such steady footing? What can we be sure of? All kinds of surveys indicate that confidence in institutions has dissipated. Things that we may have always relied on may no longer prove reliable. In our culture, the church, government, and media have all surrendered the ability to provide a sure foundation. In individual lives, there are curve balls, challenges, and unscripted events which come out of left field to shake our foundations. People around us (parents, children, bosses, employees, clergy) inevitably disappoint, even as we disappoint others.
One of my current vocations is to spend time with a 2 year old granddaughter. She is a light. It is a delight. We build towers together, with wooden blocks that have been in the family for decades. If I ask her how we’ll start, she says we need a good foundation. A good word to learn as a toddler. Or as an adult. The preacher in me can’t help but hope that there’s a life lesson.
A bishop came to visit our church recently. The liturgy for that service began with the hymn, “The Church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.” We closed the service by singing “Christ is made the sure foundation.” (Sometimes when we have a hard time stating our confidence, we can draw strength by singing about it.) Those of us who swim in the Christian stream are led to consider the ways that Jesus provides a firm foundation.
Christ as foundation is an idea set forth by St. Paul when he wrote that crazy Corinthian church, a church which was fighting about all kinds of things (food, sex, liturgy, rules). They were especially at odds about leadership and who they thought was the real deal. Paul acknowledges in the third chapter of this letter that there are indeed a variety of styles of leadership. That’s still true in the church today. But he says that while these leaders in their own ways are building the church, the foundation is Jesus Christ. I take that to mean that our foundation is found as we follow the one who came not to be served but to serve and who stretches out arms of love on the hard wood of the cross.
What does it mean to you when we sing about Christ as sure foundation? On what kind of foundation are you building your life? Do you ever contend with that sinking feeling? Maybe those are good Monday morning questions. Our faith calls us to trust in the One who holds our souls in life and will not allow our feet to slip, will not allow us to fall, will not allow us to sink. There are practices available in our tradition that help us to build on that foundation: prayer, reflection on scripture, contemplation, service. How might you practice those things this week?
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
1 In you, O Lord, have I taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in your righteousness.
2 Incline your ear to me; make haste to deliver me.
3 Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe, for you are my crag and my stronghold; for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me.
4 Take me out of the net that they have secretly set for me, for you are my tower of strength.
5 Into your hands I commend my spirit, for you have redeemed me, O Lord, O God of truth.
15 My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies, and from those who persecute me.
16 Make your face to shine upon your servant, and in your loving-kindness save me.
This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.
Refuge
This Monday morning, I’m wondering where you might be experiencing a need for security, stability, protection. If you’ve looked at the news today, you would find all kinds of reasons to wonder about the shaking of the foundations, to wonder if things are falling apart, if the center will hold. In our individual lives, unscripted events can make us feel vulnerable to the changes and chances of life, with no place to hide, no shelter from the storm.
This, apparently, is nothing new. The psalm recited in church yesterday indicates that its author had been in serious need of help. Deliverance came to him from his relationship to the Holy One, who is described in a variety of images: tower, castle, refuge, stronghold, crag, rock. Those images of strength and safety are embraced with a deep trust, allowing the psalmist to say: Into your hands I commend my spirit (words of trust that Jesus spoke to the Father from the cross. See Luke 23:46). The psalmist indicates dependence on the Lord, with this admission: My times are in your hand.
What can we learn from this? How can we deepen that kind of trust?
It often starts with the realization that we have nowhere else to go. In the Gospel of John, we read that Jesus spoke to the multitude with challenging words. Many people left him. With crowd size dwindling, Jesus looks at his disciples and asked if they were going to leave as well. Peter, the disciple who never has an unexpressed thought, says: Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. In this moment, Peter knew he had nowhere else to go.
A deepened trust often starts with the realization that our own resources are limited. Maybe we’ve tried everything else. Maybe like a toddler we’ve said: I do it myself. Maybe we’ve found that an attitude like that just won’t go the distance, which may make us look for a tower, a castle, a stronghold outside or beyond or above ourselves.
A deepened trust can be bolstered by community, including whatever faith community we belong to. Sure, those communities can be flawed. We can all cite examples. But they nevertheless, perhaps in spite of themselves, can encourage confidence in the God who draws us together. We deepen trust as we consider the community of saints who have gone before, folks who over the centuries, have weathered the storm and found that God is indeed a refuge and strength (Read Psalm 46 if you need reassurance on this front). Our trust can be deepened by engagement with the stories in the Bible which tell us how people like Abraham, like Moses, like Peter, stepped out in faith, moving forward without knowing where God was leading, walking through waters, walking on water.
A deepened trust can come as we follow Jesus, exploring what it means these days to be one of his disciples. When I was a teenager, our family went through a rough patch, a shaking of the foundations of our life together. My mother, a woman of faith, tried to help us navigate these unscripted challenges. One of the ways she did that was by making us memorize the text of the hymn: How firm a foundation. I was adolescently annoyed by the task, but compliant. Decades later, the words stay with me as a kind of refuge. Especially this stanza: The soul that to Jesus has leaned for repose, I will not desert to my foes. That soul that all hell should endeavor to shake, I’ll never, no never, no never forsake. (Thanks, Mom). We deepen trust as we seek to follow Jesus with a closer walk. That may look different for each one of us, but that kind of relationship can be a safe space.
The deepening of trust is a spiritual practice. Like any practice, it is strengthened as it is exercised. I’m wondering what kind of exercise in trust you might practice this week. Let me know if you come up with any good suggestions. I’m still working on it.
- Jay Sidebotham
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.
Love your enemies. Really? Do I have to?
After the Civil War, many people in the North felt it was their right and duty to crush the South. Members of Lincoln’s party pushed for swift retribution. At one gathering, as President Lincoln spoke about binding up the wounds of the nation, working for reconciliation and forgiveness, Representative Thaddeus Stevens pounded the table and said, “Mr. Lincoln, I think enemies ought to be destroyed.” Mr. Lincoln responded, “Mr. Stevens, do I not destroy my enemy when I make him my friend?”
Psalm 23, maybe the most familiar of all the psalms, includes this vision of the Lord, our shepherd: “You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me,” or perhaps more familiarly, “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies.” The psalm suggests that there’s a need to be in relationship with all of God’s children, even those we don’t like. Even those who trouble us and threaten us. Even our enemies.
There’s a lot about enemies in the scripture, and especially in the psalms. For a people clearly threatened with extinction, the calls for violence against enemies are undeniably brutal, so harsh in fact that the lectionaries often leave out those passages. In the many voices we hear in scripture, we can certainly find rationale for violence, as contemporary leaders have discovered.
In the early 1950’s, Howard Thurman made this observation (which he could be saying this week). He wrote: “One encounters persons of deep piousness and religiosity who are intolerant and actively hostile toward their fellows. Some of the most terrifying hate organizations in the country are made up in large part of persons who are very devout in their worship of God.” He continues: “I cannot be at peace without God, and I cannot be truly aware of God if I am not at peace with my fellows. For the sake of my unity with God, I keep working on my relations with my fellows. This is ever the insistence of all ethical religions.”
Alongside those scriptural voices calling for vengeance, we hear the voice of Jesus who says that we are not only to love our neighbor. We are to love our enemy. The expansive nature of that commandment sets Jesus apart. These days we may not be facing enemies who would try to physically destroy us. We can give thanks for that. We can recognize that in some places on our globe, people of faith do face that kind of danger. But in our time, we do all face those who threaten to undo us. How is a table set for us in the presence of those who trouble us? What does that mean for us?
While many of the psalms seem to call for rather violent destruction of our enemies, I’m grateful for that short passage from Psalm 109. The psalmist acknowledges that “the mouth of the wicked is opened against me. They speak to me with a lying tongue, they encompass me with hateful words and fight against me without a cause. Despite my love, they accuse me. But as for me, I pray for them.” In other words, this ancient psalm echoes counsel I’ve been given when I encounter people who trouble me. I’ve been told that the first step is simply to pray for that person.
And as we pray blessing on our enemies, as we extend forgiveness even when it hasn’t been requested, we acknowledge in confession the ways we have participated in division, the ways in which we need to be forgiven, the ways in which we have troubled others.
Finally, we commit ourselves to the promises of baptism, which says that we seek and serve Christ in all persons (even our enemies). We respect the dignity of every human being (even our enemies). Let’s be clear. I don’t want to do it. Harboring hatred toward enemies is so deliciously satisfying, feeding righteous indignation. Let's also be clear that love of enemy does not mean tolerance of injustice. This is not easy.
Which is why when we make our baptismal promises, we say “I will with God’s help.” Experiment with loving your enemy this week. With loving those who trouble you. Lincoln was onto something.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 116:1-3, 10-17
1 I love the Lord, because he has heard the voice of my supplication, because he has inclined his ear to me whenever I called upon him.
2 The cords of death entangled me; the grip of the grave took hold of me; I came to grief and sorrow.
3 Then I called upon the Name of the Lord: "O Lord, I pray you, save my life."
10 How shall I repay the Lord for all the good things he has done for me?
11 I will lift up the cup of salvation and call upon the Name of the Lord.
12 I will fulfill my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people.
13 Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his servants.
14 O Lord, I am your servant; I am your servant and the child of your handmaid; you have freed me from my bonds.
15 I will offer you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call upon the Name of the Lord.
16 I will fulfill my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people,
17 In the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of you, O Jerusalem. 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.
Be of service
Like good stewards of the manifold grace of God, serve one another with whatever gift each of you has received…whoever serves must do so with the strength that God supplies, so that God may be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ. - I Peter 4:10-11
The psalm for this week describes deep gratitude to the Holy One for deliverance from the entanglement of the cords of death. In response, the psalmist repeats: O Lord, I am your servant.
What does it mean to be the Lord’s servant? How do we think about that, as a dynamic in our own spiritual lives?
As I thought about those questions, I recalled hearing church leaders describe themselves as servants of the servants of God. Diving a bit more deeply, it turns out that is a phrase used by popes over the centuries to describe their ministry (In Latin, Servus Servorum Dei). All that was intriguing to me, given the way that Pope Leo has been in the news of late, boldly proclaiming the gospel. I’m thankful for the courageous way he regards his service. But the phrase began with Pope Gregory I in the sixth century. It has been a guiding vision of servant leadership ever since.
We can look further back in time and find that St. Paul had a similar vision for his ministry. As a priest, I was always taken with his job description for Christian leadership. He described himself as a servant of Christ and steward of the mysteries (I Corinthians 4).
Going even farther back, we can look at Mark’s gospel, the earliest of the four, in which Jesus interrupts the disciples' hissy fit about which one of them was the greatest by sharing this vision for his own ministry. He said that the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve.
Lest we think that this vision of servant leadership is just for pontiffs or apostles or the Messiah, one of the things we promise in baptism is that we will each seek and serve Christ in all people, loving neighbor as self. That promise gets at this interesting dynamic: There is deep connection between being a servant of the Lord and being a servant of those around us. So how do we develop this kind of servant attitude?
We start by admitting that our default is to look for as many ways as possible for folks to serve us. Signing up for discipleship of Jesus means we shift from that default position and regard our place in the world differently.
Then, following the psalmist’s lead, we let our service grow out of a sense of gratitude. Maybe we join the psalmist in asking how we can repay the Lord for all God’s benefits (see Psalm 116:10). That act of rendering is itself a kind of service. It grows out of mindfulness of the ways we have been blessed. When we forget those blessings, we may easily drift into a swelled-head expectation that we must be served.
Then, as we recognize that we seek and serve Christ in others, we open our eyes, we open our hearts to the need around us. I’ve mentioned before that my father in law who passed away at age 97, used to phone us many mornings and ask: What can I do for you today? He did that up until the very end. He modeled a servant’s heart, and provided an accessible practice for those wishing to grow in servanthood. Try it out with the people around you this week. Make that phone call.
And if you’re not exactly sure of how you can be of service, ask God’s Holy Spirit to show you where you can be of service. One of the great joys in my ministry in parishes was discovering the great variety of ways that people offered service to others. Some did it in their professions. Others volunteered for ministries. Some offered service in notable ways. Others offered quiet unsung service. Some who were completely limited in mobility offered service of prayer.
We had a food drive at our church, asking folks to bring in canned goods for our pantry. We came up with the slogan: Everybody can. (Get it? Cans of food. I thought it was clever). We quickly realized that it had a broader meaning. Everyone can do something. Reflect this week on what it means to be the Lord’s servant, and how you can live into that role by serving those around you. Everybody can.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 16
1 Protect me, O God, for I take refuge in you; I have said to the Lord, "You are my Lord, my good above all other.”
2 All my delight is upon the godly that are in the land, upon those who are noble among the people.
3 But those who run after other gods shall have their troubles multiplied.
4 Their libations of blood I will not offer, nor take the names of their gods upon my lips.
5 O Lord, you are my portion and my cup; it is you who uphold my lot.
6 My boundaries enclose a pleasant land; indeed, I have a goodly heritage.
7 I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel; my heart teaches me, night after night.
8 I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand I shall not fall.
9 My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices; my body also shall rest in hope.
10 For you will not abandon me to the grave, nor let your holy one see the Pit.
11 You will show me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy, and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore.
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.
The way of life
Thomas said to Jesus: Lord, we do not know where you are going? How can we know the way? -John 14.5
In the psalm heard in church yesterday, a psalm chosen for the Easter season, the author of the psalm expresses this confidence. Speaking of the Holy One, the psalmist says: "You will show me the pathway of life." The implication is that some pathways are life-giving. Others not so much. So how do we find and then travel the pathway of life?
Left to our own devices, we might not find a life-giving pathway. If you need any corroborating evidence that it’s hard to find the way of life, just check out the news. See how collectively we pursue pathways that lead to death. In our individual lives, there are all kinds of ways that we look for life in all the wrong places. Take a gut check on your own life. Are you discovering and traveling the pathway of life?
On our own, we might not find the pathway of life. But we have not been left alone in this process. The Easter season, the resurrection stories are all about finding the way of life emerging from an experience of death. We read this psalm in the Easter season in part because of its claim that God will not abandon us to the grave. Throughout the psalms, we read about dependence on God to show us the way. Some examples:
- “He restores my soul. He leads me in right paths for his name’s sake.” (Psalm 23:3)
- “Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation” (Psalm 25:4)
- “Show me your way, O Lord; lead me on a level path.” (Psalm 27:15)
- “Send out your light and truth, that they may lead me and bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling.” (Psalm 43:3)
For those of us committed to the way of Jesus, we hear him say to his followers: "I came that you might have life and that you might have it abundantly." (John 10:10) He responds to Thomas by saying: "I am the way, the truth, and the life." (John 14:6) We find the way of life in Jesus, in knowing him, in following him, in imitating him.
At the same time, we hear him say that the way is narrow, a road less traveled, to channel Robert Frost and M. Scott Peck. Jesus tells his followers that they must experience death in order to find life. They must give life away if they are to discover it. He says: “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24) This pathway of life calls for counter-intuitive, counter-cultural ways of being: love of enemies, unlimited forgiveness, a commitment to serving others rather than focus on being served. It is the way of love for sure, but it may not be an easy road, as the disciples found as most of them ended up martyrs for their resurrection faith.
Where does that leave us? For starters, we begin by giving thanks for this Easter season with its promise of resurrection, the promise Jesus gave his disciples at the end of the Gospel of Matthew: “Lo, I am with you to the end of the ages.” As we try to find our way in the world, we do not go it alone. Grace has brought us safe thus far and grace will lead us home. A favorite passage, the gospel in a nutshell, focuses on that grace, and lets us know that grace shows us the way of life: "For we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life." (Ephesians 2:10)
Second, we are called to keep our eyes open for how God might be showing us the pathway of life. Our default position will be to say that we can figure this out ourselves, thank you very much. But in Paul Tillich’s vision of faith (a.k.a., absolute dependence), we recognize our need of guidance, some spiritual GPS to help us recognize the way of life. We may need to pull a u-turn (a.k.a., repent) when we travel down ways that won’t give life. For me, that’s where spiritual practices like prayer and scripture reflection and service and silent contemplation come in, attentiveness amidst the distractions that bombard us.
Then with eyes open, with heart receptive to God’s guidance, we move in that pathway, figuring out what that looks like in real life. Again from the psalms, we are called to “taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8) How might you celebrate this Easter season, tapping into the power of the resurrected Christ who came to give us life and to give it abundantly, who came to show us the way?
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his mercy endures for ever.
2 Let Israel now proclaim, "His mercy endures for ever."
14 The Lord is my strength and my song, and he has become my salvation.
15 There is a sound of exultation and victory in the tents of the righteous:
16 "The right hand of the Lord has triumphed! the right hand of the Lord is exalted! the right hand of the Lord has triumphed!"
17 I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.
18 The Lord has punished me sorely, but he did not hand me over to death.
19 Open for me the gates of righteousness; I will enter them; I will offer thanks to the Lord.
20 "This is the gate of the Lord; he who is righteous may enter."
21 I will give thanks to you, for you answered me and have become my salvation.
22 The same stone which the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.
23 This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.
24 On this day the Lord has acted; we will rejoice and be glad in it.
This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.
Alleluia! The Lord is risen!
"If you were to ask me point-blank: 'What does it mean to you to live spiritually?' I would have to reply: 'Living with Jesus at the center."' -Henri Nouwen
The psalm you may have heard at yesterday’s Easter celebration concludes with this verse: On this day, the Lord has acted. We will rejoice and be glad in it.
So what specifically has the Lord done on this day, on Easter? While it may at times seem shrouded in mystery, here’s one way to think about why we make such a fuss about Easter. What God does in Easter is make a way where there was no way. Said another way, God opens a door for us, so that in the words of the psalm, we might enter God’s gates with thanksgiving. Said another way, God turns dead end into threshold.
A scan of scripture will remind us that this kind of activity is totally in character for the Holy One. Abraham and Sarah in their nineties had no hope that they would ever visit the maternity ward. Then Isaac arrived. Moses and his people stood trapped on the edge of the sea, with hostile army advancing. A way opened up through the waters. Who knew? When Daniel was tossed in the lion’s den, one could safely assume that was his end.
The holy creation of a way forward is especially apparent in the various resurrection stories. Mark’s gospel tells of women making their way to Jesus’ tomb, asking “Who will roll away the stone?” Where they imagined obstacle, God opened a pathway. Where they imagined end of story, God opened a new chapter. Luke’s gospel tells of disciples leaving Jerusalem, making their way to Emmaus, disappointed with the weekend’s results, not unlike those who work hard on a political campaign and find that their candidate ends up getting walloped. These disciples say to each other: “We had hoped.” They end up hosting Jesus for dinner, only to find that he is in fact the host. Disappointment dissipated, they head back to Jerusalem. With the news of Jesus’ death, John’s gospel tells us Peter reverts to his old way of life, heading for a fishing boat. Then he sees Jesus on the shore, cooking breakfast of all things. In the face of his three denials, Peter is given the grace of three opportunities for restoration, for forgiveness. With that open door, he could then follow Jesus and become the rock on which the church was built. In each of these cases, the sense of being at a dead end was countered by the living presence of Jesus.
It’s not surprising that Jesus would in his person, in his presence, represent a way forward. He told his disciples not to be troubled in heart, because he was the way. In one of his several analogies, he said “I am the door.” The implication is that those with ears to hear are meant to follow him into that new reality, and to give up the idea that there was no hope. Easter provides the basis for the insight from the lead character in the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. That character repeats: In the end, everything will be okay. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
Dare we believe that? I’m wondering what dead end you might be facing this Monday morning. Is there a stone standing in the way? Do you sense a door closed to anything new, anything different? The bold claim of Easter is that there is always a way forward. There is always a new chapter. There is always a way to go deeper in the life with God.
We access that new way of life by letting the drama of Holy Week and Easter unfold in our life. We access that new way by committing to a way of service, as Jesus did when he washed disciples’ feet. We access that by taking up our cross, as Jesus did when he set his face to Jerusalem. We access that by embracing the new life God has for us. We access that new life by deepening our relationship with Jesus, keeping Jesus at the center. That's why the quote from Henri Nouwen at the top of this post seems so important.
I’m taken with the insight that the word “resurrection” really means to stand again. Whenever we feel that we have fallen and we can’t get up, the promise of resurrection is held out for us. Mixing our metaphors, the promise of resurrection allows us to turn dead end into threshold. That opportunity is what God has done in Jesus on this day we call Easter. We will rejoice and be glad in it.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 31:9-16
9 Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble; my eye is consumed with sorrow, and also my throat and my belly.
10 For my life is wasted with grief, and my years with sighing; my strength fails me because of affliction, and my bones are consumed.
11 I have become a reproach to all my enemies and even to my neighbors, a dismay to those of my acquaintance; when they see me in the street they avoid me.
12 I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind; I am as useless as a broken pot.
13 For I have heard the whispering of the crowd; fear is all around; they put their heads together against me; they plot to take my life.
14 But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord. I have said, "You are my God.
15 My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies, and from those who persecute me.
16 Make your face to shine upon your servant, and in your loving-kindness save me."
This year, Monday Matters will focus on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.
Trouble
Jesus promised those who would follow his leading only three things: that they should be absurdly happy, entirely fearless, and always in trouble.
I heard the quote printed above early in my ministry. While I can’t identify the source, I’ve been taken with its vision of discipleship.
That the first disciples were always in trouble is pretty clear. Most of them ended their lives as martyrs, perhaps the greatest trouble a person can get into. The history of the church after Christ, beginning with St. Paul and through centuries that follow, indicate that trouble does indeed seem to be a kept promise for disciples. That dynamic is also true of people of faith prior to Jesus, as noted in the psalm heard in church yesterday, a psalm which begins: Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble.
Sometimes for people of faith, the trouble can accompany the choice to stand up for justice. In a Lenten group, we just read “The Book of Joy,” the story of the friendship between Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama. There’s much that is simply delightful in the book, made all the more poignant because both men got in a lot of trouble for standing for justice and peace. I stand in admiration of Congressman John Lewis, civil rights hero who faithfully and courageously chose a path that he knew would get him in trouble. He called it good trouble. Wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in that kind of trouble?
Sometimes trouble comes because we have made bad choices. That’s when the gift of the season of Lent comes in handy, as we spend time in self-examination and repentance. We admit the ways we have fallen short, and recognize that in so doing, we may have gotten ourselves in trouble. Do you recognize that kind of trouble?
Sometimes trouble comes to us with no discernible explanation. Unscripted events, unanticipated challenges, unmerited opposition come our way. Trouble finds its way into our lives in fulfillment of the premise that suffering is the promise life always keeps. It seems to me that that might be the plight of the author of Psalm 31, who deals with a life wasted with grief, years of sighing, the reproach of enemies. The psalmist is forgotten like a dead man, useless as a broken pot, as folks plot to take his life. In other words, he’s in trouble. Have you ever felt like you’re in that kind of trouble?
The question we face this morning: what do we do when find ourselves in times of trouble? Beyond Paul McCartney’s admonition to let it be, we practice trust, so that when we take a stand for justice and peace and meet with opposition, we are called to trust in the God who hears the cry of the oppressed. When we recognize that our actions have led us into predicament, we are called to trust in the wideness of God’s mercy, the promise of forgiveness and restoration. When we encounter trouble that defies explanation, we are called to trust in the God who holds the future, even if we don’t know what the future holds.
As we find ourselves at the beginning of Holy Week, we look to Jesus who set his face to Jerusalem. In some respects, he went looking for trouble. He found it, culminating in his cry from the cross: My God, why have you forsaken me. Yet even from that place, he modeled trust, saying to the one he called Father: Into your hands I commend my spirit. Even from that place, he practiced forgiveness, stretching out arms of love to draw us into his saving embrace. He teaches us that trouble can be an opportunity to deepen our relationship with the Holy One.
With that in mind, let me leave you with wisdom from Howard Thurman: The fact is inescapable that there are qualities that seem to be hidden deep within the very texture of the human spirit that can only be laid bare, that they may grow and be fruitful, by the most terrific flailings of a desperate adversity. There are not only such qualities as endurance, but also such qualities as tenderness, gentleness and boundless affection. It seems that these qualities emerge in their fullest glory only when there is nothing more that adversity can do.
Maybe that’s what can make trouble good trouble.
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 130
1 Out of the depths have I called to you, O Lord; Lord, hear my voice; let your ears consider well the voice of my supplication.
2 If you, Lord, were to note what is done amiss, O Lord, who could stand?
3 For there is forgiveness with you; therefore you shall be feared.
4 I wait for the Lord; my soul waits for him; in his word is my hope.
5 My soul waits for the Lord, more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.
6 O Israel, wait for the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy;
7 With him there is plenteous redemption, and he shall redeem Israel from all their sins.
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.
Waiting
What are you waiting for? In recent days, many people are waiting in TSA lines for hours, fearful of missing a flight. We may wait for results of a medical test, fearful that news won’t be good. We may wait to hear from a potential employer, fearful we won’t get the job. We may wait to hear from college admissions, fearful that our future is being decided by a faceless committee. We may wait for life to be different somehow, fearful that that might never happen. There’s a spiritual dimension to this, as we hear in the psalm this week, that we are to wait on the Lord. In various places, the psalmists seem fearful that God is not paying attention or not going to look on us kindly, or out to get us, all part of fear-based religion.
What would it mean to wait for the Lord without fear or anxiety? Scripture gives us examples of folks who showed us the way. Abraham and Sarah heard a promise from God that they would have innumerable descendants. They had to wait until they were more than 90 years old to see hope of that promise coming true. Joseph, of technicolor coat fame, spent years in prison, forced to wait for vindication. Moses spent forty years in the desert keeping track of sheep before he received his commission to bring freedom to the enslaved Israelites. The children of Israel, carried into exile, asked: “How long, O Lord?” as the prophet Isaiah told them that those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. St. Paul spent way more time in prison than I suspect he would have wished. So much work to be done. So many churches to plant. This cloud of witnesses helps us recognize that waiting is not easy, that we may well wonder whether God is attentive to our needs. I’m wondering if you ever have those wonderings.
What does it take to wait without fear or anxiety? One of the ways we can do that is to remember stories of scripture, imagining ourselves in their plot lines, finding examples of what it means to trust, what it means to have faith as we wait. Here’s how that quality of faith or trust is described in the New Testament book of Hebrews (11:1,2): “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval.”
Another way is to look at our own history and think about ways we’ve seen God acting in our own lives, giving thanks for God’s gracious activity. All of it has to do with nurturing a spirit of hope in place of a spirit of fear or anxiety. St. Paul talks a lot about hope in the 8th chapter of his letter to the Romans, a vision for all of creation. He wrote:
"I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God, for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its enslavement to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labor, and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what one already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”
Elsewhere in his letters, St. Paul speaks about the ways in which faith, hope and love are intertwined (I Corinthians 13:13). How do we wait without fear? Early in my ministry, a wise lay person reminded me that the opposite of love is not hate. She said that the opposite of love is fear. So perhaps the way to navigate our own personal waiting period is to focus on putting love into action while we wait.
I have no way of knowing where you find waiting to be challenging. I’m guessing everyone knows that challenge. It’s easy to let fear and anxiety take hold as we wait. The life to which Jesus calls us presents another way. His way of love. How can you walk in that way this week?
-Jay Sidebotham
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.
Supervision
What else is there to be said about the best known of the psalms? We heard Psalm 23 in church yesterday (It’s also reprinted in this email). It’s hard to hear it as if we never heard it before. It’s so popular, in fact, that if you go online, you can find dozens of t-shirts that feature the message: “The Lord is my shepherd.” The imagery ranges widely. There are all kinds of excessively adorable images of cuddly sheep. I passed on ordering any of those. But one t-shirt caught my eye. Designed with simplicity, rendered in the most tasteful typeface, it bore this message:
The Lord is my shepherd. (I need constant supervision.)
That’ll preach.
Reading about the role of the shepherd in biblical times, one of the features of the job was that it was 24/7. A shepherd wandered with the flock, ever present with them as protector, provider and guide. Hence the idea of constant supervision. The psalmist notes that the Lord as shepherd is with us in all circumstances, leading beside still waters, accompanying through the valley of the shadow of death, setting a table, present when facing enemies, places I suspect we all have been.
For those of us who swim in the stream of Christian tradition, we see Jesus as this good shepherd, in large part because he described himself as such in John 10. One of my favorite passages in the gospels comes as Jesus draws a huge crowd out to the countryside. Gospels tell us that Jesus looked on this gathering with compassion. He saw them as “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” When I served a Park Avenue church in Manhattan, a place with as much pedestrian traffic in front of it as any I can imagine, I would sometimes stand on the steps and watch folks race by, many looking frazzled or irritated or sometimes even lost. I often thought that these folks seem harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. I often thought that they needed a shepherd. Have you ever felt that way?
One of the most illogically graceful parables that Jesus told describes a shepherd who leaves 99% of his sheep to go rescue one lost sheep who wandered off. In the parable, Jesus doesn’t tell us why this one sheep wandered off. The beauty of the parable is that we get to speculate, to wonder about the wandering. One possibility is that this one sheep decided that it didn’t need constant supervision, that it could make its way on its own. Extrapolate a bit, and see that one lost sheep deciding it could take on the role of the shepherd. In other words, that lost sheep could play God, which tangentially triggers for me another bit of wisdom from Anne Lamott who said: “What's the difference between God and me? God never thinks he's me.” Is there any way you might be like that lost sheep, committed to the theology of Frank Sinatra: “I’ll do it my way.”
When in Lent we pray “Lord have mercy,” that’s another way of saying that we admit that we do need constant supervision. Where do you experience that need in your own life? Do you identify with that crowd of 5000 that was harassed and helpless? Are you trying to make your way through the valley of the shadow of death? Are you hankering for some down time by still waters, where your soul can be restored? Would that table spread before you fill a need in your life?
The promise, the premise of our faith is that constant supervision, that graceful presence is available to us. All we have to do is follow. How might you tap into that guidance, that provision, even that supervision this week?
-Jay Sidebotham
Psalm 95
1 Come, let us sing to the Lord; let us shout for joy to the Rock of our salvation.
2 Let us come before his presence with thanksgiving and raise a loud shout to him with psalms.
3 For the Lord is a great God, and a great King above all gods.
4 In his hand are the caverns of the earth, and the heights of the hills are his also.
5 The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands have molded the dry land.
6 Come, let us bow down, and bend the knee, and kneel before the Lord our Maker.
7 For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand. Oh, that today you would hearken to his voice!
8 Harden not your hearts, as your forebears did in the wilderness, at Meribah, and on that day at Massah, when they tempted me.
9 They put me to the test, though they had seen my works.
10 Forty years long I detested that generation and said, "This people are wayward in their hearts; they do not know my ways."
11 So I swore in my wrath, "They shall not enter into my rest."
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 do not want to belong to a religion that cannot kneel. I do not want to live in a world where there is no one to adore. It is a lonely and labored world if I am its only center. - Richard Rohr
As I suspect many of you have discovered, the service of Morning Prayer can be a great way to start the day. Whether you say the service on your own, or with others in person at a church, or by zoom, it’s a powerful way to get going in the morning, a helpful way to orient yourself to face whatever the day may bring.
The service includes readings that change each day, dictated by the Daily Lectionary in the Prayer Book. But there are a few set pieces as well, worth repeating 365 days out of the year. These include a canticle called the Venite, which is really a portion of the psalm heard in church yesterday and reprinted in this email.
In the service of Morning Prayer, we read the first seven verses of that psalm, verses which extend an invitation in several ways. (The word venite translates as a word of invitation: come.) The psalmist offers three invitations: Come let us sing to the Lord. Come before God’s presence with thanksgiving. Come let us bow down and bend the knee and kneel before the Lord our maker. All of which remind us of the amazing grace that God extends invitation to us to be part of God’s life.
That spirit of invitation from the psalmist is echoed in the life and teaching of Jesus. I have in mind the parable of the wedding banquet, where the table is set for everyone to come, even and especially those who live on the margins. I think of the comfortable words that Jesus says to those battling anxiety: Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.
Maybe a good question for this Lenten season is to ask ourselves how we are responding to those invitations. One of the chilling aspects of Jesus’ parable about the wedding banquet is that many of the guests say “Thanks, but no thanks.” As I noted, in the canticle offered in Morning Prayer, we only read verses 1-7 of Psalm 95. The remaining verses offer something of a caution, a warning against hardening our hearts. If the greatest commandment in scripture is to love God with all that we are and all that we have, the violation of that commandment can come as we refuse to open our hearts.
The hardening of the heart can happen in so many ways and for so many reasons. Ironically, it is often religiously observant folks who end up with stone cold hearts. I imagine those are the folks who turned down Jesus’ invitation to the wedding banquet. That refusal can happen for all kinds of reasons. One of my favorite admonitions for St. Paul’s letters comes in a letter to the Corinthians where he tells them to widen their hearts (II Corinthians 6). In II Corinthians 5, he warns: Do not accept the grace of God in vain. (We heard that passage on Ash Wednesday.)
Taking the entirety of Psalm 95 into consideration, we balance the invitation with expectation. How can we open our hearts to accept the invitation to God’s life? A good first step is to admit we need help, perhaps praying the words of Psalm 51 that we said at the beginning of Lent: Create in me a clean heart and renew a right spirit within me. I’ve mentioned before the Litany of Penitence from the Ash Wednesday service. It captures for me the ways our hearts harden: a refusal to forgive, a refusal to be of service, envy, pride, hypocrisy, indifference to those in need, indifference to care for creation, contempt towards those who differ from us. The list goes on.
Give it a shot today. Find your own way to respond to the invitation. Come sing to the Lord. Come offer thanksgiving. Come bow the knee before the Lord our maker. It’s the key to widened heart. Find a way this week to widen, not harden, your heart.
-Jay Sidebotham
