 "The Preaching of the Baptist," Francesco Bassano (1570) Read:
Luke 3:1-18 Reflect: In the Old Testament, sin is not something strictly immaterial or ethereal. Israel’s sin is best described as a systemic way of living as a people among peoples. This is manifested primarily in Israel’s resistance to the social order prescribed by God in Israel’s law. This law is gifted to them by God to regulate their identity- it defines how they are to live as a community in relationship with other communities. As the Old Testament attests, Israel’s resistance to this social order comes with disastrous consequences. Countless injustices from both inside the community and out spill across generations as poverty, famine, drought, barrenness, and exploitation run rampant throughout Israel’s history. It is Israel’s way of living as a people- how they treat one another, their neighbors, and their land- that results in patterns of social corruption and political oppression. Such is the way of hostility towards our neighbors and one another. Biblically speaking, sin is not a personal problem any less than it is a social one, nor is the forgiveness of sins a spiritual matter any more than it is a material one. John’s arrival on the outskirts of Judea in Luke 3 is strategically situated within the volatile political landscape of Israel’s day (3.1-2). It is here where he appears, “preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (3.3). When the crowds going out to be baptized by him question him as to what they are to do, John exhorts them to live in such a way as to “bear fruit consistent with repentance” (3.8), commanding them to live in a way that pushes back against their long-standing resistance to God’s social order. Repentance, in John’s terms, has social, material, and economic consequences: “The one who has two tunics is to share with the one who has none, and the one who has food is to do likewise” (3.11); to tax collectors, he says, “Collect no more money than what you have been ordered to” (3.13), and to soldiers he says, “Do not extort money from anyone, nor harass anyone, and be content with your wages” (3.14). John is calling upon the crowds to repent of the unjust patterns of living as a people that they have inherited over so many generations, and to instead pursue the justice commanded by God. This is how the “way of the Lord” is prepared, and the “rough road is made smooth” for the coming Kingdom of God- the final healing of Israel’s social and material conditions. And such healing has never been limited to Israel alone. As with Israel’s sin, there is no “personal” transformation for Israel that does not affect her neighbors as well, nor has Israel’s God constrained His blessing to His chosen people at the expense of all other peoples and communities. Instead, the blessing of Israel’s God to the whole world comes directly through Israel’s own promised future, wherein “He who is coming” (3.16) will usher in a future of final healing and peace between all the peoples of the world (Isa. 11.1-9). In recent days, many of us have woken up to the reality of our own participation in corrupt cycles of injustice. In preparation for celebrating He who has come, let us reflect on the words of John and prayerfully seek to “bear fruit consistent with repentance.” Marcus Hatcher Lighting the Advent Wreath: Third Week
You are invited to light your home Advent wreath during the Sunday morning liturgy, joining in the blessing printed here. You may also light the wreath in the evenings—before or after the evening meal, or at the end of the day—with one member of the household taking the leader part and the rest joining in the response, or one person reciting the whole blessing. Leader: Blessed are you, God of might and majesty, for you promise to make the desert rejoice and blossom, to watch over the strangers, and to set the prisoners free. As we light these candles, satisfy our hunger with your good gifts, open our eyes to the great things you have done for us, and fill us with patience until the coming of the Lord Jesus. O ransomed people of the Lord, come, All: let us travel on God’s holy way and enter into Zion with singing. Amen. Read: Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 Luke 1:46b-55 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 John 1:6-8, 19-28 Reflect: By the late Middle Ages, the calendar had drifted enough that December 13 was the shortest day of the year. It was also the commemoration of Saint Lucia, or Saint Lucy, whose very name suggested light and whose grisly martyrdom in the last great Roman persecution led to her often being depicted holding her eyes (put out by her torturers) in a dish. Though a native of Sicily, her cult was particularly durable and popular in Northern Europe. Swedish and Swedish-American churches often held “Sancta Lucia” pageants in December, with a girl from the congregation representing the young saint and others around her as a sort of royal court. She’s also a patron saint of writers, which I personally appreciate. Instead of a psalm this Sunday, we sing or recite the Song of Mary from Luke’s Gospel, commonly known by the first word of its Latin translation: Magnificat. “My soul magnifies the Lord,” Mary sings, as the Messiah takes flesh from and within her. Mary, much more than Lucy/Lucia, became an object of universal veneration in Christianity, and her song goes a long way to explaining why. She, the ordinary girl from the Galilean countryside, becomes the means by which God shows his mercy, shows strength with his arm, scatters the proud, lifts up the lowly, sends the rich away empty and fills the hungry with all good things. There are recurring attempts to insist that Christianity is a fundamentally masculine or male-centric religion. But Mary brings those attempts to naught. When God became human, Mary—and no human man—needed to say yes. No male input was necessary. We are blessed with the words, images, and examples of these otherwise unremarkable young women who, by their faith, overcome the world. They are exactly the sort of person who would otherwise be forgotten in the great sweep of history. But they stand out as ones who lit the lamp of faith for future generations. Pray: for young people, for the growth of their faith, and for their safety and welfare; for all who seek God’s purpose in their lives; for writers; for justice and equality for all people regardless of gender; for your own needs and those of our community. Our Father, who art in heaven... Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. Pastor Ben Dueholm Read: Psalm 126 Habakkuk 3:2-6 Philippians 3:12-16 Reflect: “...the watercourses of the Negev” The Negev is a rocky desert that covers more than half of Israel. It is divided into areas based upon the amount of rainfall it averages per year. The northern, Mediterranean portion gets perhaps 12 inches of rain and the driest area maybe two. Dallas, TX gets around three times that amount by comparison. It isn’t hard to imagine how welcome the rainy season is. But as the rains start flowing down from more mountainous regions, the riverbed begins to fill. This is the picture of hopefulness in Psalm 126.   The Psalmist entreats God to restore Israel’s fortunes like the watercourses in the Negev. Those waters assuredly return every year at the beginning of the winter months. It is as predictable as the flooding of the Nile. Something you can count on like you can count on God to meet you in your prayers and accomplish good things for your life. In God’s economy, we should always count the cost along with the blessings. The implications of the waters rushing suddenly into the riverbed can have consequences we were NOT counting on like the poor little flower blooming in a crack of the dry riverbed. But that is the beauty of this season of Advent. We can be participants in the arrival rather than mere observers. Let’s not miss all the wonder when the waiting is concluded. So, along with being ready with all the packages tied up with ribbons, let’s think about all the blessings and ways to turn the costs into a treasure. Like Santa’s list, perhaps make your own. Get your family involved too around the fire with eggnog or hot spiced cider, cookies and pie. What will the arrival of Jesus at Christmas truly mean for me and my family? The blessing 1. Learn compassion for others 2. 3. etc. The cost 1. Greet someone who looks lonely 2. 3. etc. The hidden treasure 1. Make a new friend and learn their story 2. 3. etc. Joan Copeland  Download the complete devotional guide here. Read: Psalm 126 Habakkuk 2:1-5 Philippians 3:7-11 Reflect: “I will stand at my watch post, and station myself on the rampart; I will keep watch to see what he will say to me.” Before King David’s conquest of Jerusalem in the 11th century BCE the city was heavily fortified with a strong city wall. Today the Old City is still surrounded by ancient walls that are about 8 feet thick and 39 feet tall containing 34 watch towers and 8 gates. During its long history, Jerusalem has been destroyed twice, besieged 23 times, attacked 52 times, captured and recaptured 44 times. Little doubt that many, many individuals have been stationed on those ramparts as lookouts over the many centuries, watching to see signs of an enemy approaching. But the prophet is not looking out for the enemy, rather he fully expects to hear a word from God. And he does! How often do we talk to God, actually have a two-way conversation? How exciting that would be to have the confidence and expectation that when we go to our place where we are close to the eternal we know there will be a response. Where is your place? How about contemplating what makes it special. Maybe your family could create an area in your home that for the remainder of Advent and all the way through Epiphany you can call close to God. Maybe decorate it or equip it with the things that make you think of Jesus and draw you to it for even just a couple minutes to dwell on the Holy.  But then again, for as long as I can remember, people look up at the sky when they want to sense God’s presence. In our passage the prophet is on the ramparts 39 feet up, but what if you could stand on a rampart that was 2,717 feet up and look down upon the people, cars, ships, clouds going by. You might gain a sense of what God sees when he looks upon us as we hurry about our daily lives. Something to think about and experience for yourself on Youtube. Atop the Burj Khalifa, what might Jesus be thinking about and wanting to share with you as you prepare for Christmas? Trying to see from God’s point of view might make your prayer life more of a two-way conversation.
Joan Copeland Read:
Psalm 27 Malachi 2:10-3:1 Luke 1:5-15 Reflect: “Then there appeared to [Zechariah] an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John.’” (Luke 1:11-13) In many images of the liturgy, both in the Scriptures and in Christian tradition, we see angels carrying the gifts of the people to the heavenly sanctuary. The idea is that we make our offering (praise, thanksgiving, incense, gifts of grain or wine or animals) and the angels bring it “up” and present it to God directly. Personally, I believe in angels and I take this bit pretty literally. But even so, I think I’d be just as surprised as Zechariah if an angel actually decided to appear to me in the sacristy. That’s not how this is supposed to work! I do my job, you do yours, and otherwise we stay out of each other’s way. But here the angel is bringing a message down from the heavenly sanctuary to the priest. “Could we cover this in a minute when I’m done with the incense?” I imagine myself thinking, were I in Zechariah’s shoes. That and “oh boy, this can’t be good. I’m in trouble.” So like all the angels in all the stories, this one has to say “Fear not!” before anything else. God’s messenger popping up right now is good news, not bad news. The whole traffic from earth to heaven hasn’t broken down, it’s just that something else is happening too. Zechariah, you’ve spent your life offering gifts. Now it’s time to receive one. Have you ever gotten something you longed for in a way you couldn’t have expected? Or have you encountered the power of God at a time you weren’t looking for it, but that afterward seemed obvious? Spend a few minutes today finding or remembering those experiences, and remember to give thanks for the unexpected responses to your own prayers. Pray: for all people struggling with fertility; for clergy and bishops providing for the worship of God; for all who experience fear or anxiety; for comfort and assurance for yourself and others. Our Father, who art in heaven... Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. Pastor Ben Dueholm Read:
Psalm 27 Isaiah 4:2-6 Acts 11:1-18 Reflect: “Indeed, over all the glory there will be a canopy. It will serve as a pavilion, a shade by day from the heat, and a refuge and a shelter from the storm and rain.” (Isaiah 4:5b-6) One big theme in the Bible that may be easy for us to miss is, for lack of a better term, “home.” Land, shelter, and a place where the body and soul may be at peace and in safety: that is what people are seeking from God for much of the Old Testament in particular. Today we get this image of God spreading a canopy, a shelter, around God’s own presence (“glory”) to protect the “survivors of Israel.” I imagine this was a pretty powerful image for people who had experienced destruction, deportation, and chaos on the scale that Israel had in this period. But as someone who has passed his life so far in relatively peace and safety, I have to work a little to get this. So today let’s ask ourselves: What does shelter mean to us? Perhaps we have needed literal, physical shelter at some point in our lives. Perhaps we know the risk of being close to losing that shelter. If we’ve even been close to those situations, whether as a friend, a family member, or even a volunteer, we may know something of that fear and need. But we may seek “shelter” in a more spiritual way, too. What makes us feel vulnerable or at risk? What, if anything, has ever brought us a sense of earthly, ordinary peace? A feeling of being “at home” wherever we may be in the world? Spend some time with those feelings today. And don’t be afraid to pray for them: security, shelter, protection, being at home; both for yourself and for everyone who needs them. Pray: for the homeless, those who seek to help them, for all who live with exposure to severe weather, for a godly peace and security in our own lives, for the welcome of our church to be extended to all who seek that peace and security with us. Our Father, who art in heaven... Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. Pastor Ben Dueholm Read:
Psalm 27 Isaiah 26:7-15 Acts 2:37-42 Reflect: “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?... If my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will take me up.” (Psalm 27:1, 10) I can’t hear this psalm without thinking of my maternal grandfather. It’s a long story but he was, in effect, orphaned twice: deprived of his biological parents, and eventually rejected by his adoptive grandmother. He bounced around the county’s available foster homes, where he was in effect an unpaid farm laborer, always running away to his grandmother and always being handed back to the county. Eventually he landed in the home of a devout German Catholic farm family, who saw him through high school and eventually off to the Army Air Corps. When he was shot down for the second (and last) time, he was taken prisoner. His foster mother, dying of cancer, insisted to my grandmother, “he’ll turn up.” I was blessed to know both those grandparents into my own young adulthood, but I was not wise enough to ask them directly about all of that. Maybe they wouldn’t have been willing or able to talk about it. But it reminds me of all the ways God reaches us when the normal and natural means of our survival and flourishing dry up. I can’t imagine how my grandfather, forsaken and imprisoned, must have felt through all of this. So I’m all the more grateful for the ways God took him up. This psalm offers us an opportunity to find and name some hidden places in our lives. Where are we fearful? Where do we feel the need of light and salvation? Where have we felt forsaken and abandoned? How has God has taken us up? It may be a friend, a community, even a task or purpose that connects us again to the power of our very existence. Spend some time today looking for those experiences, and how you can help others be taken up as well. Pray: For foster and adoptive parents, for people experiencing anxiety or depression, for the lonely and alone, for all who seek to preserve and create families for children who need them, for an increase of assurance and perseverance in our own lives. Our Father, who art in heaven... Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. Pastor Ben Dueholm Lighting the Advent Wreath: Second Week You are invited to light your home Advent wreath during the Sunday morning liturgy, joining in the blessing printed here. You may also light the wreath in the evenings—before or after the evening meal, or at the end of the day—with one member of the household taking the leader part and the rest joining in the response, or one person reciting the whole blessing. Leader: Blessed are you, God of hope, for you promise to bring forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse who will bring justice to the poor, who will deliver the needy and crush the oppressor, who will stand as a signal of hope for all people. As we light these candles, turn our wills to bear the fruit of repentance, transform our hearts to live in justice and harmony with one another, and fix our eyes on the root of Jesse, Jesus Christ, the hope of all nations. O people of hope, come, All: let us rejoice in the faithfulness of the Lord. Amen. The Art and Imagery of Advent Read: Isaiah 40:1-11 Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13 2 Peter 3:8-15a Mark 1:1-8  Reflect:
Earliest Christians held the belief that Jesus would return in their lifetime, but by the decade 80-90 C.E. it was a hope that seemed dashed, especially as the still dominant pagan world around them began to criticize their stricter way of life and their anticipated new world of righteousness. The 2nd Letter of Peter is a response to those critics. In the reading for today, Peter reminds the hearers of the birth of the world out of the waters, the flood, and the future that has been reserved for fire. He encourages Christians to stand firm in leading lives of peace, holiness and godliness because of the sure and certain future that was promised them and for which they waited. Peter could not have possibly understood the science behind the imagery that he used of the heavens being set ablaze and dissolved. But his certain faith in God assured him of the immense power that the creator holds and was able to describe it as he did. We today have the ability to see into the cosmos which Peter could only imagine. Scientists have observed exploding stars, black holes, and study the vastness of the universe and our place in it. For most of us, it is incomprehensible and we must simply trust that it is so. Scientists can even look inward and understand on a molecular level the amazing and complicated inner workings of our bodies. We are grateful that they can or we would not have the ability to find medical intervention for the illnesses that pervade our world. If you dare adventure for yourself, click on this link and see. https://www.gettyimages.com/videos/nucleus?phrase=nucleus&sort=mostpopular There is still much we do not understand but we firmly believe that we have been created and declared loved by God and have a purpose in God’s time. Though we do not know when, there is a different future coming and we will be a part of that. Perhaps during the season of Advent, step away from the busy-ness of decorating, shopping, and wrapping to look up at the magnitude of the heavens on a clear night and wonder what God has next in store for you. Are you listening carefully, are you prepared to respond to a need, have you thought about your “five-year plan” for your life and able to revise it if you need to answer a new call? Your name has been whispered throughout the majesty of all creation since the beginning for such a time as this. Joan Copeland Read:
Psalm 85 Jeremiah 1:4-10 Acts 11:19-26 Reflect: “Show us your steadfast love, O LORD, and grant us your salvation.” (Psalm 85:7) If you did yesterday’s devotion (and it’s not too late! You can do it any time!), you have already spent some time with this verse and this psalm. It pops up in the Book of Common Prayer version of Morning Prayer that I say at least some of the time. It’s a simple and pure prayer, which is probably why it got snapped up by the prayer book compilers for daily use along with some other petitions straight out of the psalms: Versicle: Show us your mercy [another translation], O Lord; Response: And grant us your salvation. V: Clothe your ministers with righteousness; R: Let your people sing with joy. V: Give peace, O Lord, in all the world; R: For only in you can we live in safety. V: Lord, keep this nation under your care; R: And guide us in the way of justice and truth. V: Let your way be known upon earth; R: Your saving health among all nations. V; Let not the needy, O Lord, we forgotten; R: Nor the hope of the poor be taken away. V: Create in us clean hearts, O God; R: And sustain us with your Holy Spirit These lines are meant to be prayed responsively, but almost every time I’ve done this, I’ve prayed them all myself. This is a season in which the most basic and necessary prayers feel like the best and most urgent petitions we can offer. Show us your steadfast love! What could be more urgent and necessary than that? In Advent we move through a familiar story. The world is waiting for the Messiah, and the Messiah comes. The prayers of the faithful were, in a way, answered. And now we’re in another Advent as we await the final coming of the Messiah into our world and our hearts. So we ask for God’s salvation knowing that it has been given, long ago and forever. But also, as Luther says in the Small Catechism, “that it may come also to us.” It is a good time to lay aside a hindrance or an obstacle to God’s steadfast love in our lives—a vain need or an old resentment; a futile desire or a destructive pattern; a cause of anger that no longer has any meaning. Make this prayer your own today. Pray: for all who long to hear the Gospel; for all who need to be strengthened in faith; for all who cannot see God’s mercy and steadfast love; for all who doubt or struggle with their own salvation; for all who wait and all those needs on our own hearts. Our Father, who art in heaven... Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. Pastor Ben Dueholm Sisters and brothers, grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I really love today’s psalm and I encourage you to come back to it from time to time this week. It’s a poem that sets two ideas or images side by side: on one hand, God’s eternity; and on the other, the short span of our own lives. A thousand years in God’s sight are like yesterday past, like a watch in the night. God sweeps the ages away like a dream. While we humans, like a dream, fade at the dawn. Our breath departs like a sigh and God brings us back to the dust from which we came. “The span of our life is seventy years, perhaps in strength even eighty,” but they pass away in labor and sorrow and are swiftly gone. I grew up in a house where mortality was a topic of everyday conversation. A friend of my brother’s came over for dinner one night and asked him, “does your family always talk about death at the dinner table?” I don’t think my brother had noticed. It was just there all the time. Not in a morbid way but just as a fact of life. I’m convinced this was a blessing. When the psalmist says to God, “teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom,” I hear it. Even a long life is like an evening past when it is over. When I was much younger I used to really obsess about this. Life is short, so make the most of every day; seize the opportunity for goodness or joy or an experience you may not get another chance to have. Enjoy the crescent moon visible just before dawn over the Central Expressway when you wake up early and can’t get back to sleep so you go for a run. You only get so many of those moments, only so many crescent moons, if you live to be a hundred. And when you miss one you can’t get it back. Now I hear these words differently. Life, with all its toil and sorrow, will have an end. Stick with it today, not because life is so unbearably short but because the moment will come when you can lay your burden down and enjoy your rest. Mortality is on many minds right now, as we crash into what may very well be the bleakest and most dangerous months of the pandemic. And one theme I hear, from myself and others, is that we are burned out on fear. We don’t want to let it dictate our lives. There are so many ways to die and this is just one more. And this is true, as far as it goes. Maybe because of my age or my generally sound health, I don’t really worry about dying from Covid-19. I will admit that I worry more about the stranger, less final outcomes: needing a lung transplant. Chronic exhaustion. Even losing my sense of smell without recovering it, as apparently some have, would make the world a very odd place and probably affect me in ways I couldn’t possibly predict. More than that: I worry about passing the virus on to someone who may have those symptoms even if I don’t, or who may die alone and uncomforted. Who may stretch a hospital staff to its breaking point. Who may drive hospital staff home with exhaustion or sickness or burnout. Who may pass it on again to more people. There is something foolish and dangerous about our society’s pursuit of longevity at all costs. As we’re learning, there are factors we simply can’t control. And more than that, our resources for making life meaningful and good have not kept up with our power to add years to its span. We are technologically very gifted but culturally very impoverished. Our pursuit of health and life and longevity must be also our pursuit of truth and goodness and solidarity with each other. Because however long we live, our days pass away quickly in the end. “So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” This is so powerful because you can pray this at any moment in your life. “Teach me to number my days.” Impress upon me, God, the fact that my life has a limit. They may be many. They may be few. But in a sense it doesn’t matter. They will mean something, many or few, if they belong to God. The master in the parable Jesus tells us today says to two of his slaves, “you have been trustworthy in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.” There’s a lot going on in this parable that I’m not going to talk about today. But those words--you’ve been trustworthy in a few, you will be put in charge of many--are especially powerful if we imagine that the “few things” we’ve been given are not our money or our abilities but the days of our lives. However many or few they may be. We are accountable for them. We will render them back to our master. This is not a morbid image, I hope. At least I don’t find it morbid. It’s a beautiful image. Days numbered for wisdom. Gifts invested to be multiplied. All our days together are like a watch in one single night. And it’s amazing that this is an insight the Psalmist had before we knew that the time in which humanity has existed is a tiny, tiny fraction of the history of Creation. But today, this day, is infinite. It is full of possibility. And you, who have devoted a part of this day to the word of God and to the gifts of God, are not here to be afraid. You are not here to surrender to the inevitable. To become nihilistic in the face of suffering. You are here to be made wise. And to enter into the joy of God that has no beginning and no end. Amen. |
CLCGod's Work. Our hands. Categories
All
|
RSS Feed