Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Psalms (Page 41 of 41)

Have a Glass of Wine – From the Daily Office – June 1, 2012

The Book of Proverbs counsels:

Who has woe? Who has sorrow?
Who has strife? Who has complaining?
Who has wounds without cause?
Who has redness of eyes?
Those who linger late over wine,
those who keep trying mixed wines.
Do not look at wine when it is red,
when it sparkles in the cup
and goes down smoothly.
At the last it bites like a serpent,
and stings like an adder.
Your eyes will see strange things,
and your mind utter perverse things.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Proverbs 23:29-33 – June 1, 2012)

Sometimes I think the Lectionary editors play games with us and today is one of them. They have combined this advice with Paul’s admonition to the young new bishop Timothy: “No longer drink only water, but take a little wine for the sake of your stomach and your frequent ailments.” (1 Timothy 5:23) Don’t drink wine. Drink wine. What’s it to be? ~ Hey! It’s the Bible. For nearly every point made somewhere in Scripture, you can find a counterpoint made somewhere else. It is possible to reconcile these two into a message of moderation, but that is often not the case and, in any case, reconciling or trying to harmonize contradictory passages of Scripture is a poor hermeneutic. ~ The Bible is an historic record and represents, among many other things, the changing understandings of God’s people. There is an arc or trajectory of understanding in scripture. There is development from bashing the heads of our enemies’ infants against the rocks (Psalm 137:9) through leaving the gleanings of the vineyard for the alien, the orphan, and the widow (Deut. 24:21) to loving your neighbor as yourself (Lev. 19:18) and, finally, to “this wine is my blood poured out for many” (Mark 14:24). The development may be inconsistent, there may be backsliding, but as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., reminded us, “the arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” That moral arc is witnessed in Scripture. ~ So have that glass of wine for good health, but “do not be among winebibbers.” (Prov. 23:20)

We Call This Baptism – From the Daily Office Lectionary – May 26, 2012

Through the Prophet Ezekiel, God said to Israel:

I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Ezekiel 36:25-26 – May 26, 2012)

It rained here last night – pretty spectacular electrical storm, to be honest. The dog spent the night cowering under a table. This morning when I took her out at 6 a.m. the world was freshly washed. In the trees surrounding our home, birds of all sorts were singing and there was a sweetness in the air. Sprinkles with clean water, the earth had been cleaned of its uncleannesses, if only for a moment. ~ It is only a coincidental convergence of the two lectionaries (Episcopal Daily Office two-year cycle with the Revised Common Lectionary three-year cycle), but tomorrow’s Old Testament lesson is Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones in the next chapter of his prophecy. Dry bones, dessicated, dehydrated – emblematic of spiritual emptiness. Clean water, washing, witnessing, revivifying – emblem of the Spirit herself. ~ Tomorrow we will baptize and welcome into God’s household a young lady of about 10 years of age. I find it difficult to conceive of her having “a heart of stone” but I am convinced that in her baptism God will give her a new heart and write on her heart his law of love. Her life will become like the world after the rain, freshly washed and filled with light and sweetness. This is not to say that there will not be dry patches in her life; there are in every life, even the lives of the saints. However, nurtured by the church and sustained by the Spirit, she will be able to make it through those times with more than enough spiritual “moisture”. The Psalms constantly remind us that “the river of God is full of water” (65:9) and that God changes “deserts into pools of water and dry land into water-springs” (107:35). ~ In another vision, Ezekiel saw a river of water flowing from the temple. It flooded the land, in places ankle-deep, in others knee-deep, and in still others waist-deep. The water flowed everywhere and everywhere it flowed was to be the land of God’s people, not just Israel, but all of God’s people. The dry bones of all nations will be restored in the water of God’s river; God will sprinkle clean water upon us all. We call this baptism.

Faith and Unclean Birds – From the Daily Office – May 25, 2012

From Psalm 102:

  1. Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come before you; *
    hide not your face from me in the day of my trouble.
  2. Incline your ear to me; *
    when I call, make haste to answer me,
  3. For my days drift away like smoke, *
    and my bones are hot as burning coals.
  4. My heart is smitten like grass and withered, *
    so that I forget to eat my bread.
  5. Because of the voice of my groaning *
    I am but skin and bones.
  6. I have become like a vulture in the wilderness, *
    like an owl among the ruins.
  7. I lie awake and groan; *
    I am like a sparrow, lonely on a house-top.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 102:1-7 [BCP version] – May 25, 2012)

These three similes – I am like a vulture in the wilderness; I am like an owl in the ruins; I am like a lonely sparrow – intrigue me. They are metaphors of solitude but worse than solitude, of loneliness, of being completely cut off. ~ The word translated as “vulture” in the NRSV is qa’ath; older translations rendered this as “pelican”. According to the lexicon the word signifies “a ceremonially unclean bird”, but the lexicon admits that the exact meaning of the ancient Hebrew is unknown. The root of the word is qow’ which means “to vomit”. From some bit trivia learned long ago, I recall that vultures defend themselves with intentional projectile vomiting. The simile depicts one so distraught , so distressed, so stricken that she keeps others away, spewing her grief onto those who would comfort her. ~ The Hebrew word translated as “owl” is kowc: owls also are ritually unclean birds. The lexicon tells us that it is “from an unused root meaning to hold together.” This simile perhaps suggests the same thing as the English phrase “barely holding it together”; amidst the waste and devastation of his life, the psalmist is barely holding on, hanging from his last thread, unable to handle one more thing even a small expression of sympathy and support without “losing it altogether.” ~ In the third simile, the psalm uses the word tsippowr, here translated as “sparrow” although more generically it simply means “bird”. This simile holds out hope where the others do not. The same word is used by prophet Ezekiel to paint a picture Jesus will later use as an encouragement to faith: “On the mountain height of Israel I will plant [a cedar], in order that it may produce boughs and bear fruit, and become a noble cedar. Under it every kind of bird will live; in the shade of its branches will nest winged creatures of every kind.” (Ezek. 17:23) Jesus will change the cedar to a mustard tree and promise that even the smallest amount of faith, faith the size of a mustard seed, can accomplish miracles. (Matt. 13:31-32; Matt. 17:20) For the lonely sparrow on the house-top there is the hope of flocking with others in tree planted by the Lord; for the lonely sparrow there is the hope provided by faith. ~ The rest of the morning psalm expresses that hope. The psalmist acknowledges gratefully that God “will look with favor on the prayer of the homeless; he will not despise their plea” and “their offspring shall stand fast in [God’s] sight.” No matter how cast out, unclean, despairing, or distraught, even the vulture and the owl, together with the sparrow, can come and make nests in the branches of the tree planted by God.

Grow My Church! – Sermon for the 7th Sunday of Easter – May 20, 2012

Revised Common Lectionary readings for the Seventh Sunday of Easter (Sunday after the Ascension): Acts 1:15-17, 21-26; Psalm 1; 1 John 5:9-13; and John 17:6-19.

This graphic is the work of Matthew Todd Spiel and is used under the terms of a creative commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 license.The story from the Acts of the Apostles this morning tells us that the apostles, in choosing a replacement for Judas Iscariot, relied on a game of chance. They couldn’t decide between two candidates so, rather than voting, they “cast lots”, drew straws, rolled the dice. Matthias got the short straw. As I was contemplating these lessons, and particularly this story, this week, I was also assaulted by radio and television advertisements for the new Horseshoe Casino in downtown Cleveland. And just like the lessons of the past few weeks, this coincidence of events triggered a memory of childhood. But this week, the memory was not of summers spent with my grandparents, it was of Saturdays spent with my father.

My father, R. York Funston, was a Certified Public Accountant in Las Vegas, Nevada. During the 1940s and 1950s one of the ways the authorities kept tabs on the gaming industry was through weekly audits of the casino records conducted by state-appointed CPAs, of which my dad was one. For some reason, the Gaming Control Board thought Saturday mornings would be the best time for the books to be collected, so that was when he would make the rounds of the five casinos he was responsible for. It was also the day my mother did her housekeeping and she didn’t want me underfoot, so I would accompany my dad as he drove through Las Vegas visiting the casinos.

The Las Vegas of the early 1950s was rather different from the city one visits today. In those days, Las Vegas as about the size of current-day Medina, Ohio. A permanent population of right around 30,000 people, a downtown like that of any other city with a Sears-Roebuck, a Rexall drug store, a locally owned department store called Ronzone’s, a movie theatre that showed double-features, and half-a-dozen or so casinos. We lived near the south edge of town in a post-war housing development called Huntridge. Just a couple blocks south of us was Sahara Boulevard, south of which was the desert and a collection of horse ranches called Paradise Valley.

Dad and I would get up and leave the house at about 6 a.m. on Saturday mornings and drive through Paradise Valley headed for the Tropicana Hotel & Casino to pick up the first set of books. Then we’d hit three other places on the strip and finish up downtown at Binny Binion’s Horseshoe, the casino which eventually became the big publicly-traded corporation now running a casino in Cleveland.

This was not, in terms of miles traveled, a very long trip, but it would take about four or five hours because at each stop my dad would have a cup of coffee and a conversation with the casino managers. At each place, I would get to spend time with a change girl or a cocktail waitress while Dad conducted his business, and sometimes I’d get to meet other people. For example, I met Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and all the rest of the Rat Pack when I was four years old. But when we got to Binion’s, I got to do something else.

The Horseshoe was on the corner of Fremont, the downtown main street of Las Vegas, and Third Street, and the whole corner of the building was open to the street. Right at the corner, visible for everyone passing by to see, was a big glass box in which, it was said, there was $1,000,000 in U.S. currency in bills of various denominations. On either side of the box stood a uniformed guard carrying a shotgun. Casino patrons could get inside that box with all that money and large fan would blow a whirlwind around them and lift those bills so they were flying all around the person. I’m not sure how long the patron had, maybe a minute, but whatever it was, the idea was that during that period of time whatever bills the person could catch and hold on to, they got to keep. My dad would leave me there at the entrance to Binion’s Horseshoe and let me watch those people trying to catch money while he went inside and got the books. I never saw anybody catch very many bills – that’s really hard to do.

So when the Bible describes a game of chance as the means by which the apostles chose a successor to Judas, and the radio is broadcasting ads for a new casino in Cleveland, I remember those childhood visits to Binion’s Horseshoe and those silly people grabbing at those flying bills.

Luke does not tell us whether Matthias was commissioned in any way for his ministry as Judas’s replacement, but I think we can be fairly certain that he was. Elsewhere in Acts Luke describes acts of laying of hands and prayer to commission people for special ministries, and church historians assure us that from the very earliest days of the church this was the regular practice. Today we are commissioning a group of St. Paul’s members to perform a special ministry as part of what is called a Grow My Church Task Force. The “my” in “Grow My Church” refers to Christ; this title is a paraphrase of Jesus’ “Great Commission” to the Apostles, the commandment given them just before his ascension into heaven. St. Matthew reports it in these words:

Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always , even to the end of the age. (Matt. 28:19-20)

Jesus refers to his intention to do this in today’s gospel from John, in what is called his “high priestly prayer” offered to God on the night of the Last Supper. In fact, this prayer is the Apostles’ commissioning by Jesus for the ministry they will be given:

Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth. (John 17:17-19)

The word for sending here in the original Greek of the New Testament is apostello and it is from this word that we get our word apostle – an apostle is one who is sent.

In a few minutes, we will formally commission the Task Force, we will make them apostles sent to do a job, but before we do, I want to tell you what the Vestry, our parish governing board, has charged them to do. At its last meeting, the Vestry adopted this resolution:

We, the Vestry of St Paul’s Episcopal Church formally charge the members of the newly formed Grow My Church! Team, which includes Barbara Baird, Shelley Triebsch, Mark Hansen, Joe Mahn, David Muffet, Steve Rucinski, and Ray Sizemore, to help us learn more about our congregation. We commend to you the Grow My Church! course and ask that you exercise all diligence in prayer and study, and return to us with recommendations. Therefore, in the course of your study we formally charge you to develop a Congregational Growth Plan to help reinvigorate our church and better live out our role in The Great Commission. We pledge to review your recommendations, intending to fruitfully apply your work as the Holy Spirit guides us. We expect to hear back from you in four months and pledge to keep everyone involved in our prayers

The Task Force will be meeting on Monday evenings for twelve weeks. Each meeting will address a particular topic:

  1. Organization
  2. Landscape (What are the societal and community factors influencing our church?)
  3. Leadership (How does our governance structure work? How could it be improved?)
  4. Purpose (What is our mission? How well is it known to our members and to non-members?)
  5. Worship (Why we gather on Sunday? What do we do? What should we do?)
  6. Spirituality (What is our church’s relationship with God?)
  7. Service (What are our community outreach ministries? Are there others we should be doing?)
  8. Fellowship (What about the social time we spend together? Can it be improved?)
  9. Generosity (How do we talk about money? How do we raise it, use it, steward it?)
  10. Hospitality (How are we at welcoming the visitor and incorporating the newcomer?)
  11. Invitation (How well do we do at asking others to join us? What can we do to make our invitations more frequent and more effective?)
  12. Growth Plan (Putting it all together with action recommendations reported to the Vestry.)

OK … so that’s who they are, what they’ve been commissioned to do, and how they’re going to go about doing it.

Here’s what I hope they (and we) won’t do.

First, I hope they won’t be like those people in the glass box at Binion’s Horseshoe grabbing at the flying money. I sometimes feel that that is what the church has been doing for the past three or four decades. We have known that church membership has been declining, that Average Sunday Attendance has been going down, but we haven’t known what to do about it, so we stand in the whirlwind and grab at anything that flies by. We’ve had program after program that was supposed to reinvigorate the church and make us grow. We’ve had canned studies called Edge of Adventure, Living the Adventure, Faith Alive, Acts 29, and on and on. We’ve had spiritual experiences like Cursillo, Marriage Encounter, the charismatic movement, and the so-called contemporary worship craze. We’ve done Natural Church Development and we’ve done Unbinding the Gospel.
Some of these things have worked for while; some of these things have taught us lessons we ought to remember; some of these things actually have done harm. But much of it has been “like chaff which the wind blows away” or like the dollar bills flying around in that glass box. I hope this Task Force doesn’t repeat that experience but will be solidly grounded and take from the things we’ve tried and the things they study some good, reliable insights on which to make recommendations to the Vestry and to all of us. I hope that in this study this Task Force will be “like trees planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season.”

Second, I hope they won’t feel constrained by the past. I hope they won’t use (or even hear) two sentences. One is “We’ve never done it that way before” and the other is “We’ve always done it that way before.” There are lots of things that we (throughout the church not just in this parish) have not done that we clearly ought to be doing; and there are plenty of things that we’ve done for years that we need to abandon. Someone recently reminded me of an observation made back in the 1990s by Father Robert Farrar Capon, one of the great writers of our church. Fr. Capon, in a book entitled The Astonished Heart: Reclaiming the Good News from the Lost-and-Found of Church History, wrote:

The church can’t rise because it refuses to drop dead. The fact that it’s dying is of no use whatsoever: dying is simply the world’s most uncomfortable way of remaining alive. If you are to be raised from the dead, the only thing that can make you a candidate is to go all the way into death. Death, not life, is God’s recipe for fixing up the world.

As John wrote in today’s epistle, God intends for us to have eternal life, “and this life is in his Son,” and his Son said:

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. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. (John 12:24-25)

I believe that is as true for the church as a community as it is for each of us as individuals, but just as individuals must die to self in order to be born again, the church must die to all the things, the practices, the ways-we’ve-always-done-it that may have worked in the past but that are now holding us back.

Third, I hope that you won’t ignore their work. I hope you will participate in this process. As the Task Force works through these twelve weeks of study, they will be seeking your input. This white board over here will be in the hallway each week with a question or maybe two. There will be inserts in your bulletin for your answers. Please give them and put them on the board with those colored magnets you see. And sign them! The Task Force cannot respond to anonymity – they may want to get more information from you and they will want to respond to you. So give them your thoughts and take ownership of them. Have the courage of your convictions and let the Task Force have your testimony about your church.

Finally, after we commission them, we will hold them responsible for producing an action plan to report to the Vestry within four months pursuant to that resolution. I hope that they won’t just walk away from it. I hope that they, in turn, will hold us responsible to do the things in that plan. They are a Task Force and when their task is done, they will be discharged and their team disbanded, but I hope they will continue to be active in our pursuit of the Great Commission making sure that we do what they determine in this study we need to do.

The liturgy of commissioning the members of the Grow My Church! Task Force is in your bulletins. Would you please pull that out while I ask the members of the Task Force to step forward….

Spare That Bull! – From the Daily Office – May 3, 2012

From Psalm 50 (the Lord speaking):

12 If I were hungry, I would not tell you, for the whole world is mine and all that is in it.
13 Do you think I eat the flesh of bulls, or drink the blood of goats?
14 Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving and make good your vows to the Most High.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 50 [from the Book of Common Prayer 1979] – May 2, 2012)

This psalm is not the only time Holy Scripture reports God’s displeasure with the sacrifice of animals. Consider these words from the first chapter of the Book of Isaiah, “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the Lord; I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams and the fat of fed beasts; I do not delight in the blood of bulls, or of lambs, or of goats. When you come to appear before me, who asked this from your hand? Trample my courts no more; bringing offerings is futile; incense is an abomination to me. New moon and sabbath and calling of convocation – I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.” (Isa. 1:11-13) Despite all of the ritual directions found in the Law and in the Histories (see, e.g., Exodus 29, Leviticus 1, Numbers 7, and 1 Kings 18), the Psalmist, the first Isaiah, and especially the Prophet Micah make it very clear that sacrificing innocent animals is not what Judaism (or religion in general) is all about. Micah writes, “‘With what shall I come before the Lord, and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?’ He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:6-8) It may be that doing justice, loving kindness, and walking with God may (and often does) require one to give up one’s possessions, one’s livelihood, even one’s life. But such “sacrifice” without the demanded ethical basis, sacrifice done only to curry favor with God, is not what God asks or wants. ~ It is from this ethical stream in ancient Judaism that Christianity flows. It is unfortunate that early Christian writers looked back to the sacrificial practices of the Temple to find an analog to crucifixion of Jesus; we might have seen the Christian religion develop differently if, like the writers of the Gospels, they had looked more to the prophets. Jesus certainly did: “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.” (Matthew 22:37-40) ~ So spare that bull! Sacrifices of animals (or their modern analogs, whatever they may be) are not the sacrifices that demonstrate love of God and love of neighbor. Rather, the core of ethical religion is as the writer of the Letter to Hebrews said: “Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.” (Heb. 13:16)

The Lord Is My Shepherd: I HATE that! – Sermon for Easter 4 – April 29, 2012

Revised Common Lectionary for the Fourth Sunday in Easter, Year B: Acts 4:5-12; Psalm 23; 1 John 3:16-24; and John 10:11-18.

Jesus the Good ShepherdMy father died in an automobile accident when I was five years old. Two things important to my religious life resulted from that. First, my mother and I stopped attending the Baptist church which she and my brother and I had gone to up to that point. Second, I started spending every summer with my paternal grandparents, Charles Edgar and Edna Earle Funston, in the town of Winfield, Kansas, and thus began attending the Methodist church during those summer vacations.

My grandparents were staunch Methodists. In those days that denomination was known simply as the Methodist Church, but as I remember the cornerstone of Grace Church identified it as having been established as a congregation of “the Methodist Episcopal Church (South)” which means that it was started as rather (shall we say) conservative parish. That certainly would have described my grandfather. (I’m named for my grandfather, but I thank my parents every day for deciding to change the middle name from “Edgar” to “Eric”. I don’t think I would have liked having the name “Edgar” – I’m not sure he did, either. The only person I ever heard call him “Edgar” was Edna! Everyone, including his grandchildren, called him “C.E.”)

My grandfather was a Sunday School teacher. When Edna and C.E. relocated to Winfield from Dodge City, Kansas, in 1919, the immediately joined Grace Church and almost as immediately my grandfather became a kindergarten Sunday School instructor. And he continued to teach that class for the next fifty years. I don’t mean that he continued to teach kindergarten. I mean that he continued to teach that class of individuals for the next five decades. The next year he was their First Grade teacher, and then their Second Grade teacher, and so on up until they were in their 50s and my granddad was in his late 70s! In that tradition, you went to Sunday School every week, regardless of your age; infants, children, youth, adults, everybody went to Sunday School.

As a result, my grandfather was well-versed in the Bible and in Wesleyan theology (probably as well as if not better than a lot of Methodist clergy), and he took it upon himself to make sure that his grandchildren were also well-instructed. So during those summer months, I not only went to Sunday School at Grace Methodist Church (where Sunday School was a year-round program; none of this “summer off” nonsense), I also received daily religious instruction at home. And one of the absolute requirements of that was that I learn the 23rd Psalm by heart (the King James Version, of course) and recite it every night at bedtime.

I hate the 23rd Psalm!

Eight years of saying it every night of every summer will do that to you! I tried to get him to change that. “Granddad, couldn’t we learn another psalm now? Say Psalm 117?” (I was being pretty cagey with that suggestion – the 117th Psalm is the shortest in the book – only two verses.) But, no, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” . . . every night!

After two years, my three cousins started also spending summers with our grandparents and I started sharing a room with my nine-month younger cousin Randy. In the room we shared, there was a picture of a nice looking young man (I suppose it was supposed to be Jesus), well-groomed with longish brown hair and neatly trimmed beard, wearing a long white robe, carrying an adorable (and clearly adoring) little lamb. That picture became the victim of our dislike of the 23rd Psalm. Every night after we’d said the psalm and bid our grandparents “Good Night”, Randy and I would throw spit-wads at that picture! (They say confession is good for the soul . . . I hope so – this is the first time I’ve ever told anyone about our late-night target practice with Jesus as the target!) Of course, that meant that we’d have to get out of bed early to clean off the picture for Grammy got a look at it!

So fast forward several years and here I am, now ordained a priest in the Episcopal Church, and every year on the Fourth Sunday of the Easter Season I find myself confronted by the 23rd Psalm and Good Shepherd Sunday. Every year, it’s the same thing, the same lesson from the Gospel of John: “I am the Good Shepherd.” Every year, “The Lord is my shepherd.” (Of course, since the 1979 Prayer Book and its new translation of the Psalms, that long-engrained memorization of the KJV means that I get tongue-tied when we recite the gradual.) And every year I try to find something nice, something pleasant, something up-lifting to say about this metaphor that not only means very little to an urban, city boy like me, but one that I really actively dislike.

I suspect that the metaphor of shepherd and sheep doesn’t really work for most modern Americans. If Jesus is the shepherd that means we are the sheep and that’s not a terribly flattering thing to say. I know that a few of us in this congregation have some experience with sheep, but most of us just have vaguely sentimental fuzzy notions of cuddly little lambs, notions that are wrong because sheep really aren’t very loveable animals . . . so what does this metaphor really say about us and about our Lord? And this is a metaphor, make no mistake about that. Jesus wasn’t really a shepherd and his followers not really sheep. But metaphors are supposed to aid our understanding; they use the qualities of the one element to illustrate the qualities in the other. So Jesus as shepherd sort of works; followers as sheep, on the other hand, doesn’t work for me at all and probably not for some of you, either.

If you, like me, spend some time each day surfing the internet or checking out your Facebook page or using the web for research, you’ve probably learned that there are dozens if not hundreds of compilations of quotations, some famous, some not so well-known, from poets, playwrights, philosophers, holy books, and so on. You can search through these collections for pithy remarks on just about any topic imaginable. I tried doing that several times earlier this week . . . . Do you know that there are no positive comments about sheep!?!

I think that’s where and why the Good Shepherd metaphor breaks down for me. Yes, it says wonderful things about Jesus and his dedication to the flock . . . . But it doesn’t say much about the flock and what it says doesn’t really fit with what Jesus expects of the flock! Jesus expects the sheep to become shepherds . . . .

In the 21st Chapter of the Gospel of John there is a story familiar to all of us, a story one of those post-resurrection appearances Jesus made during the fifty days before he ascended into heaven. The story is that some of the disciples were fishing on the Sea of Galilee and from their boat they see someone grilling fish on the shore. At first, they are not sure who it is but eventually one of them realizes that it is Jesus, at which point Peter, impulsive Peter, jumps out of the boat and swims to the beach. The others bring the boat in and Jesus invites them to have breakfast. As they are eating the grilled fish, Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” Three times he asks this; Peter’s feelings are hurt because he asks three times. Each time Peter answers, “Yes, Lord. You know I love you!” And each time Jesus responds in some fashion commissioning Peter, who here represents all of us, “Feed my sheep. Tend my flock. Take care of my lambs.” Jesus expects the sheep to become shepherds . . . .

St. Paul put it this way: we are called, he said, “to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ;” we “must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.” (Ephesians 4:13,15) In the real world, sheep don’t do that! They do not grow up into shepherds! One of those quotations I found said, “You cannot make a man by standing a sheep on its hind legs.” (Max Beerbohm) It just doesn’t happen. So the metaphor breaks down, as all metaphors do. Jesus’ expectation, that the sheep become shepherds, nonetheless remains.

When I was in British Isles this past summer, I saw a lot of sheep. All over southern Scotland and northern England and throughout Ireland, one sees these lovely vistas of rolling hills, green pastures, and huge flocks of sheep. Sheep are lovely at a distance; not so pretty up close – they’re really quite dirty up close. But at a distance, they look like these lovely, fluffy white balls ambling across the beautiful, rolling, green pasture, mirroring the fluffy white clouds in the sky above . . . except in Ireland and Scotland. There, that pastoral scene is sort of marred by spray paint! Each sheep is marked with this splotches of bright red or bright blue spray paint! Sometimes both! First time I saw that, I wondered, “What’s that all about?”

Jesus says in today’s gospel lesson, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me,” but how is someone else supposed to know whose sheep are whose? By those markings! Those splotches of paint are the way the shepherds, who mix their flocks in the common fields, identify ownership of the sheep. I got to thinking about that in terms of our identity as members of Christ’s flock, because we are marked as well.

In the liturgy of baptism or of confirmation, a follower of Jesus Christ in the Episcopal Church and in a few other traditions is marked just as surely as those painted sheep are marked. We call it “chrismation”. Some specially blessed oil is taken and with it a cross is made upon the forehead of the newly baptized person or the person being confirmed; the person is marked! In the baptismal rite we say, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit is baptism, and marked as Christ’s own forever.” (BCP 1979, pg. 308) We are marked just as surely as those painted sheep are marked! The problem, of course, is that our outward mark is made with clear oil which no one else can see. How is that mark to be made known to others?

There was a news story recently about a woman who was arrested for car theft. Apparently, another driver did something she found annoying and she hit the roof, and the horn, screaming in frustration, cussing a blue streak, making certain hand gestures. As a result of this conduct a police officer who witnessed it approached her vehicle and ordered her to get out with her hands up. He took her to the police station where she was searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and placed in a cell. A couple of hours later she was released and the arresting officer apologized. He said, “I’m very sorry for this mistake. You see; I pulled up behind your car while you were blowing your horn, flipping off the guy in front of you, and cussing a blue streak at him. I noticed the ‘Honk if you love Jesus’ bumper sticker, the ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ bumper sticker, the ‘Follow Me to Sunday School’ bumper sticker, and the chrome-plated Christian fish emblem on the trunk. Naturally, I assumed you had stolen the car.”

How do others know we marked as Christ’s own? In the absence of big splotches of red or blue paint, how does anyone know whose sheep I am? St. John said it in that bit we heard from this first general letter to day: our identity is made known “not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” St. James put it another way, “Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith.” (James 2:18) It is through our actions that our mark is made apparent to all. It is through truth and action, through faith shown in works of mercy and justice that we the sheep become shepherds, that we grow up into the fullness of Christ, that our mark is seen.

This is the question the 23rd Psalm (as much as I dislike it) and the Good Shepherd gospel raise for me. Am I like that woman arrested for car theft, who had a lot of words about Jesus on the back of her car but whose mark was not made visible in truth and action? Is my mark apparent to those around me? Can anyone else tell that I am “sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever”?

“The Lord is my shepherd . . . .” Is that apparent to anyone else around me?

Amen.

What’s This Kingdom of Heaven Thing? – From the Daily Office – April 27, 2012

From Matthew’s Gospel:

Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the lake, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: “Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles – the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.” From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Matthew 4:12-17 – April 27, 2012)
 
Christ the KingAnother reading of that proclamation is “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand.” To my hearing, this alternative version is a bit more imperative; the kingdom seems a bit more imminent when it is “at hand” rather than simply has “come near.” We used to live in that part of northeastern Kansas known as “tornado alley”. If we said a tornado had “come near” that was as good as saying “It missed us! It didn’t hit us.” On the other had, if someone had said a twister was “at hand”, I would have thought it was coming right at our front door! So . . . theologically I prefer the latter reading, but must confess that personally I breathe a sigh of relief if the kingdom merely has come near. A miss, after all, is as good as a mile, and it gives me time to do this repenting and reforming that Jesus calls for. ~ So what is this “kingdom of heaven”? Let’s get one thing clear right off the bat – it is not something different from the “kingdom of God”. Some try to make a distinction (like the notes in the Scofield Reference Bible towards which I acknowledge great antipathy), but a comparison of the gospels demonstrates that they are the same thing (compare these verses: Matthew 4:17 with Mark 1:14-15; Matthew 5:3 with Luke 6:20; Matthew 13:31 with Mark 4:30-31). ~ This kingdom also is not a place far away or near by. The Greek here is basileia ; the Hebrew for the same concept in the Old Testament (e.g., Ps. 103:19) is malkuwth. While both can refer to a physical place, an actual nation state, they are better understood to refer to a condition or fact or authority of sovereignty or dominion; they might better be translated is “rule” or “reign”. This kingdom also is not a time – past or present or future. It isn’t some place or state or condition at which we arrive after death; it isn’t some place or state or condition which will arrive on earth at some future time. So what is it? ~ Well . . . in Luke’s gospel, Jesus is asked by the Pharisees about the signs of the kingdom’s arrival, to which he replies, “The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or, ‘There it is!’ For behold, the kingdom of God is in your midst.” (Luke 17:20-21) The Greek here is entos which means (and in other versions is translated literally as) “within you”. Other things the Christian scriptures tell us are found within human beings are the “word of Christ” richly dwelling (Col. 3:16), spiritual gifts (1 Tim. 4:14), and sincere faith (2 Tim. 1:5). The Hebrew scriptures mention peace (e.g., Ps. 12:8), God’s commandments (Prov. 7:1), and “a new heart and a new spirit” (Ezek. 36:26). In other words, the kingdom is an internal, spiritual characteristic of human beings characterized by these things. That’s coming about as “near” as you can get! That’s even more imminent than being “at hand.” If it’s within me, within you, within us, right here in the midst of us . . . that’s a matter of some urgency! We’d best be paying attention to it. ~ It is also characterized by the things revealed in the eight “kingdom parables” of Matthew 13, but that is too much to write about in a short meditation on a sunny day. I’ll leave those to the reader’s own contemplation. ~ Just one final note . . . if the kingdom (in all its characteristics) is truly within a person (or within a community), it will be very apparent by that person’s (or community’s) outer actions, his or her (or their) conduct, his or her (or their) relationships with others and the whole of creation. Here, the words of the Letter of James apply: “Faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith.” (James 2:17-18) If the kingdom of heaven is truly within, truly come near, truly at hand in the lives of Christ’s followers, then it will be made clear in works of mercy. I think that’s the repentance and reformation Christ encourages here.

From the Daily Office – 2 Corinthians 3:1-2 – March 28, 2012

From Paul wrote ….

Are we beginning to commend ourselves again? Surely we do not need, as some do, letters of recommendation to you or from you, do we? You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all; and you show that you are a letter of Christ, prepared by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts.

(From the Daily Office Readings – 2 Corinthians 3:1-2 – March 28, 2012)

Last Sunday the Year B Revised Common Lectionary for the 5th Sunday in Lent called for a reading from the Prophet Jeremiah which included these words from God, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts.” (Jer. 3:33) My son Patrick, who is a priest in Kansas, preached a marvelous sermon on the Jeremiah lesson which is posted on his blog. In it he makes reference to a rabbi commenting on that text, “Well, God writes his Law on our hearts so that when our heart inevitably breaks, the Law falls in.” Here Paul takes up the “writing on your heart” image applying it not to the Law but us, to the Christian community as a whole and to each individual Christian. I think the Rabbi’s words apply equally well to Paul’s use of the metaphor. When our hearts inevitably break, what falls in is no longer only the Law, but also our brothers and sisters in faith who fall into our woundedness to help us heal. ~ I remember that Christ began his ministry by reading from the Prophet Isaiah in his hometown synagogue, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me … to bind up the brokenhearted….” (Isa. 61:1, although as quoted in Luke 4:18-19 these specific words are not included). If that was part of Christ’s mission (and I believe it was), it is now our mission. ~ I remember the words of St. Teresa of Avila, “Christ has no body now on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which to look out Christ’s compassion to the world. Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good; yours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.” So it is fitting that we are a letter written on one another’s hearts; it is fitting that we fall into one another’s hearts when they are broken, for it can only be through us that the Lord “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Ps. 147:3) ~ I remember, finally, a sermon preached when I was in seminary. It was preached on the evening of February 24, 1991, the day President George H.W. Bush ordered US forces to invade Iraq. The preacher began, as Episcopal clergy often do, with a prayer of dedication. On this day he said, “In the Name of God the Brokenhearted.” It is a turn of phrase that has stuck with me through the years; it calls to mind a verse in Scripture, “And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart.” (Gen. 6:6) ~ As I read my son’s sermon, as I ponder Paul’s letter, and as I again remember that opening dedication, I wonder …. who falls into God’s heart when God’s heart is broken? Who heals the broken heart of the Healer?

From the Daily Office – 1 Cor. 12:12-14,24b-26 – March 22, 2012

St. Paul wrote ….

For even as the body is one and yet has many members, and all the members of the body, though they are many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body, whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free, and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. For the body is not one member, but many. … God has so composed the body, giving more abundant honor to that member which lacked, so that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another. And if one member suffers, all the members suffer with it; if one member is honored, all the members rejoice with it.

(From the Daily Office Readings – 1 Cor. 12:12-14,24b-26 – March 22, 2012)

There’s a lot of talk of war these days, and I don’t mean about any on-going or planned military conflicts between sovereign states. Rather, harking back to at least the 1930s when FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover declared a “war on crime” and continuing in the 1960s when Pres. Lyndon Johnson declared a “war on poverty”, the war metaphor has been used again and again, officially and unofficially, until now it is ubiquitous! Pres. Nixon declared a “war on cancer” and another “war on drugs” (which Pres. Reagan later re-declared). Borrowing a phrase from philosopher William James, Pres. Carter called for the “moral equivalent of war” in dealing with the energy needs of the nation during the 1977 oil crisis. Pres. G.W. Bush declared the apparently still continuing “war on terrorism” (or “war on terror”; the exact name and nature of the enemy have never been clear). The so-called Christian Right has claimed for a few years that there’s been a “war on Christmas” being waged by the Left and now the Left is claiming that the Right is waging a “war on women” (or on women’s reproductive rights). Yesterday afternoon I happened to hear a discussion on NPR about the unfortunate killing of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida; in that conversation, one of the participants asserted that “there is a war on young, black men in this country.” ~ After Congresswoman Gabby Giffords was shot in January 2011, there was a hue-and-cry for the ratcheting back of the violence and violent imagery of political rhetoric; it was and remains largely ineffectual. But I believe the underlying thought of that call was valid and worthy of continued consideration; I believe we need to give up this talk of war, this reliance on a metaphor of violence. ~ And let’s be clear, that’s what any talk of a “war on something” is! War is defined as “open armed conflict between two or more parties, nations, or states.” Wars are declared by national leaders and fought by citizens, often by citizens with no personal stake in whatever the underlying dispute between their countries’ leaders might have been, citizens who will end up either dead or wounded (emotionally if not physically), citizens who may suffer the trauma of taking another’s life. So regardless of what we or our society or our political opponents may do apropos of Christmas or drugs or women’s rights or whatever, unless it involves the actual taking up of weapons and killing people in open conflict … it’s not war! ~ Today’s reading from Exodus relates Pharoah’s orders to kill the male Hebrew children. It’s a terrible story, but nowhere does scripture suggest that Pharoah was involved in a “war on the Hebrews.” The Psalmist today complains of “those who hate me without a cause” but does not complain that they are “warring” against him. In today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel, Peter opposes Jesus’ plan to go to Jerusalem, but Jesus does not accuse him of waging a “war” on that plan. This rhetoric of “war” is overused by our political leaders and pundits; those who use it do so because they think it is the only way to get the American people “fired up” about something. That “war talk” does rally the masses, but surely it is not the only way to accomplish that. Surely the thoughtful people of our country can be energized by something other than “going to war.” In that speech (and later essay) of William James from which Pres. Carter got his phrase, the philosopher asserts: “It would be simply preposterous if the only force that could work ideals of honor and standards of efficiency into English or American natures should be the fear of being killed by the Germans or the Japanese. Great indeed is Fear; but it is not, as our military enthusiasts believe and try to make us believe, the only stimulus known for awakening the higher ranges of men’s spiritual energy.” In that same essay, James also argued, “Strenuous honor and disinterestedness abound everywhere. Priests and medical men are in a fashion educated to it, and we should all feel some degree of its imperative if we were conscious of our work as an obligatory service to the state.” ~ It’s that sense of having an “obligatory service to the state” that seems lacking in our society. It is that sense of being a “body,” such as Paul describes, in which all the parts, all the members work for the good of the whole that is missing. The church is supposed to be the model for such an understanding of community, for a society in which love and cooperation are as energizing as the politicians and pundits believe talk of fear and war to be …. but are we? When people look at the church today, do they see a body where conflict is considered counterproductive, a body which functions through the good work of all its members? Although I hope so, I sort of doubt it. Until the church fulfills that role, I’m afraid we’ll keep hearing about a “war on this” and a “war on that.”

Fasting Is a Given – Sermon for Lent 4B – March 18, 2012

Revised Common Lectionary for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Year B: Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; Ephesians 2:1-10; and John 3:14-21

Continuing our series of sermons in answer to parishioner questions, today we will explore fasting. A member of the congregation asked, “What is fasting and why do we do it?”

The simple answer is that fasting is going without some or all food or drink or both for a defined period of time. An absolute fast is abstinence from all food and liquid for a period of at least one day, sometimes for several days. Other fasts may be only partially restrictive, limiting particular foods or substance. The fast may also be intermittent in nature; for example, Muslims fast during the daylight hours of the month of Ramadan which is intended to teach Muslims patience, spirituality, humility, and submissiveness to God. Fasting as a spiritual practice is common to all major religions. Mahatma Gandhi once noted:

Every … religion of any importance appreciates the spiritual value of fasting … For one thing, identification with the starving poor is a meaningless term without the experience behind it. But … even an eighty-day fast may fail to rid a person of pride, selfishness, ambition, and the like. Fasting is merely a prop. But as a prop to a tottering structure is of essential value, so is the prop of fasting of inestimable value for a struggling soul.

In the Bible, the people of God in both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures fasted for a variety of reasons:

  • They were facing a crisis. For example, the prophet Joel called for a fast to avert the judgment of God. (Joel 1:14, 2:12-15), and the people of Nineveh, in response to Jonah’s prophecy, fasted to forestall God’s judgment (Jonah 3:7).
  • They were seeking God’s protection and deliverance. For example, King Jehoshaphat in the Second Book of Chronicles proclaimed a fast seeking victory for Judah over the attaching Moabites and Ammonites (2 Chron. 20:3).
  • They had been called to repentance and renewal. The Psalmist, for example, in Psalm 109 cries:
    O Lord my God,
    oh, deal with me according to your Name; *
    for your tender mercy’s sake, deliver me.
    My knees are weak through fasting, *
    and my flesh is wasted and gaunt. (vv. 20,23)
  • They were asking God for guidance. Moses fasted for forty days and forty nights on Mount Sinai before he received the tablets on the mountain with God. (Deut. 9) St. Paul did not eat or drink anything for three days after he converted on the road to Damascus. (Acts 9:9)
  • They were humbling themselves in worship. The Book of Acts reports that it was with “fasting and praying” that the members of the church in Antioch “laid their hands on [Barnabas and Saul] and sent them off.” (Acts 13:3)

So fasting has a long and venerable history in all religions including our own. Indeed, Jesus assumed that his followers would fast. You may remember the lesson from Matthew’s Gospel which is always read on Ash Wednesday in which Jesus admonishes the disciples:

Whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:16-18)

In this passage Jesus doesn’t say, “If you pray … if you give … if you fast” but rather “when you pray … when you give … when you fast.” He simply expected his followers to do so. Did you know that fasting is mentioned more than 30 times in the New Testament? For a Christian, then, fasting is not an option. It should not be an oddity. Fasting, according to Jesus, is just a given.

During this season of Lent when we “give something up,” we are engaging in the spiritual discipline of the fast. We do so in remembrance of and in solidarity with Jesus during his forty days in the desert. We do so in remembrance of and in solidarity with our spiritual ancestors, the Hebrews, who spent forty years in the desert, often without food or sustenance. In today’s reading from the Book of Numbers, for example, “The people spoke against God and against Moses, ‘Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.’” God’s wrath, of course, was kindled against them because of their complaining, but they were humbled by their privation. When we “give up something” (whether it be food or drink or some other thing that we enjoy), we are fasting and our fasting is a reminder of our own humility and own hunger for God. By refusing to feed our physical appetites, what St. Paul in today’s epistle lesson calls “the passions of our flesh” or “the desires of flesh and senses,” we become aware of our spiritual hunger.

The Baptist preacher and author John Piper, in his book A Hunger for God: Desiring God through Fasting and Prayer, encourages fasting with these words:

If you don’t feel strong desires for the manifestation of the glory of God, it is not because you have drunk deeply and are satisfied. It is because you have nibbled so long at the table of the world. Your soul is stuffed with small things, and there is no room for the great. God did not create you for this. There is an appetite for God. And it can be awakened. I invite you to turn from the dulling effects of food and the dangers of idolatry, and to say with some simple fast, “This much, O God, I want you.” (Pg 23)

Fasting is a way to bring into view those things we may need most to set aside but of which we are often unaware. In today’s lesson from John’s Gospel, Jesus tells Nicodemus that in the coming of the Son, “light has come into the world” and then says:

All who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God. (John 3:20-21)

In his book Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth, Quaker theologian Richard Foster commends fasting as a way of bringing things to light:

More than any other single discipline, fasting reveals the things that control us. This is a wonderful benefit to the true disciple who longs to be transformed into the image of Jesus Christ. We cover up what is inside us with food and other good things, but in fasting these things surface. If pride controls us, it will be revealed almost immediately. David said, “I humbled myself with fasting” (Ps. 69:10). Anger, bitterness, jealousy, strife, fear – if they are within us, they will surface during fasting. At first we will rationalize that our anger is due to our hunger; then we know that we are angry because the spirit of anger is within us. We can rejoice in this knowledge because we know that healing is available through the power of Christ. (Pg. 48)

But when we fast, we must not delude ourselves into believing that the fasting itself is earning us any “brownie points” – it is not through our good deeds, including our fasting, that we earn salvation. Indeed, we cannot earn salvation. St. Paul reminds us of that forcefully in today’s epistle: “By grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – not the result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Eph. 2:8-9)

Thinking that the act of fasting itself could earn God’s reward was condemned by God speaking through the Prophet Isaiah:

[You say,] “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord? Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. (Isa. 58:3-8)

So fasting is a spiritual discipline, but only when done with the proper prayerful attitude, the proper religious understanding – when done “in secret” as Jesus said in the Ash Wednesday reading from Matthew’s Gospel. Fasting is not so much about food, as it is about focus. It is not so much about saying “No” to the body, as it is about saying “Yes” to the Spirit. It is not about doing without; it is about looking within. It is an outward manifestation to an inward cry of the soul, a surfacing of those things that need to be brought to light, not to be condemned, but to be saved.

Let us pray:

Support us, O Lord, with your gracious favor through our Lenten fast; that as we observe it by bodily self-denial, so we may fulfill it with inner sincerity of heart; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (Adapted from Holy Women, Holy Men, Collect for Friday after Ash Wednesday, pg. 34)

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