Category: Daily Office (Page 16 of 70)

I Pondered the Works of God – From the Daily Office – August 7, 2014

August 7, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

I will ponder the glorious splendor of your majesty
and all your marvelous works.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 145:5 (BCP Version) – August 7, 2014)

Motorcycle Crash This morning, I woke up from a dream, grabbed the notepad on my nightstand, and scribbled some notes for a poem.

Then I poured a cup of coffee — thanking God for the wonder of automatic timer-controlled coffee makers — and opened my Book of Common Prayer to read the Daily Office.

Two psalms this morning. The first, Psalm 85:

They have said, “Come, let us wipe them out from among the nations;
let the name of Israel be remembered no more.”
* * *
Do to them as you did to Midian,
to Sisera, and to Jabin at the river of Kishon:
They were destroyed at Endor;
they became like dung upon the ground.

Too much this psalm reminds of Gaza and rockets and bombs and dead children, and I am not sure I want to continue the Office, but habit and discipline compel me to do so.

The second psalm . . . speaks to that strange dream and intermingles with my poem notes and I scribble some more and then hurry through the rest of the Office, unhappy when the reading from Judges presents Gideon as the hero who slew the Ishmaelites and, again, the dead of Gaza come to mind, but I rush through the prayers, hurriedly petitioning, “May they rest in peace and rise in glory,” and then return to my notes and finish the poem.

I’ll title it I Pondered the Works of God. Don’t ask me what it means. You decide.

I dreamed a dream of God
who was riding a motorcycle
a racing bike
and wearing a splendid
one-piece jumpsuit
of metallic silver fabric
and a helmet
and the visor on the helmet
obscured God’s face
when he turned
to look at me.

God laid the bike down
on the track
in a cloud of tire smoke
like a burnt holocaust
of an ancient time
and God stood up
gloriously unharmed
and sprinted off the track
to open the trunk of his car
a 1957 Cadillac Coupe de Ville
and God began
to take off his helmet
and to climb
into the trunk
as he turned
to look at me.

And I woke up
I awakened to a day
I knew would be filled
with decisions and doubts
with answers that would be
partial.

And I pondered the works of God
how marvelously he piloted his cycle
how skillfully he laid it down
how carelessly he left it lay
how athletically he ran to his car
how absently he climbed into the trunk
how majestically he turned to look at me.

And I knew
my partial answers
my doubtful decisions
would be
the solid foundation
of years to come
when God would turn
and look at me.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

A Pointless Question? – From the Daily Office – August 6, 2014

August 6, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Gospel according to John:

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 1:35-38 (NRSV) – August 6, 2014)

Come and See by Cerezo Barredo Every time I read this tale from John’s gospel, I am caught up short by this apparently pointless question. It seems such a non-sequitur, a request for irrelevant information. What could it have mattered where Jesus was staying? John doesn’t bother to give us an answer. We don’t know where this event took place. John never tells us a town and though the two disciples are permitted to come and see where Jesus was staying, the information is never given to the reader. A useless, irrelevant question made important in the dialog but never resolved for the audience — my college writing instructors would have torn this story apart.

All this question does is give Jesus an opportunity to invite them to come with him and spend the rest of the day (and perhaps the night) talking with him, which is all that John wants it to do. The question itself and its answer really don’t matter. Except they do . . . to nitpicky detail freaks like me!

I’ve read a lot of exegeses of this verse. Some suggest that the dialog — “What are you looking for?” “Where are you staying?” “Come and see.” — is an encapsulated invitation to discipleship. That feels like an eisegesis (a reading-into) of the scripture to me. Others suggest that the two men’s question should be understood something like slang, such as we used to use back in the 1970’s — “Where are you at, Jesus?” “What’s happening with you, Jesus?” — but that seems even less likely than the first idea.

I’ve always been convinced that John is just using the question as a scene-setting device and it has no deeper meaning. But today I’m not so sure . . . today I’m thinking maybe John is suggesting that there are no useless, irrelevant questions. Not because this one is some sort of code for entering the discipled life, nor because it’s a colloquial way to make inquiry into the deeper meaning of Jesus teaching, but rather because we can never know what questions may be meaningful nor where the answers to seemingly innocuous questions may lead us.

I didn’t write my Daily Office thoughts this morning for a variety of reasons — computer failure being at the top of the list, but also because of early morning commitments to the veterinarian and to the intake nurse at my orthopedist’s office. I am having surgery on my knee next week, so I had to go first thing this morning to the doctor’s office and answer a bunch of questions. Later in the day, I had to go through almost the same litany of inquiries (and more) at the surgical center where the procedure will be done.

Many of the questions were relevant, but some seemed entirely pointless. I wondered why they were being asked. Apparently some legislators and judges believe that questions about firearm ownership are irrelevant to medical treatment. A recent Federal Appeals Court decision upheld a Florida state law prohibiting physicians from asking about that. I didn’t mind answering any of the questions and wouldn’t have minded answering about gun ownership (the answer would have been “No”). I might have wondered why the question, but the asking wouldn’t have bothered me. (On the other hand, state legislators second guessing my doctor and telling him what he can and can’t ask, that bothers me.)

One of the apparently pointless questions in the afternoon session, however, led to an extended inquiry into very relevant data, however. So I began to appreciate the breadth of the queries and to see why they were being asked. And as I thought about that on my drive back to my office, I made a connection with John’s tale of Andrew and his companion asking Jesus, “Rabbi, where are you staying?”

It may seem like a pointless and irrelevant question. Maybe even John thought its substance was irrelevant (after all, he didn’t give us the answer), but the asking of it led to a life changing event in Andrew’s life, and then to a change in his brother’s life, and his brother’s life led to leadership in a new religious community, and that leadership led to the creation of the church and the spread of the Gospel . . . . One never knows where a question may lead.

Perhaps that is the point of John’s story. One never knows.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

We Just Don’t Know – From the Daily Office – August 5, 2014

August 5, 2014 / eric / 1 Comment

From the Psalms:

Hear my teaching, O my people;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth.
I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will declare the mysteries of ancient times.
That which we have heard and known,
and what our forefathers have told us,
we will not hide from their children.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary [Morning Psalm] – Psalm 78:1-3 (BCP Version)
– August 5, 2014)

Bible BCP and Shield This is the text from which I took the title of this blog, That Which We Have Heard & Known. I did so because of my conviction that we have heard and known many things from Scripture, but we don’t know that we know them. We have heard them. If we are Episcopalians we have heard them many times over, but they never seem to be familiar.

So I believe that we know them, we just don’t know that we know them.

Since the adoption of the current iteration of The Book of Common Prayer in 1976 (it is known as “the 1979 book” because it was ratified in that year having been first approved by the General Convention in 1976) with a three-year eucharistic lectionary and a two-year Daily Office cycle, Episcopalians have prided themselves on the fact that nearly all of Holy Scripture (about 80% is what I remember being told) is read in church in public worship in the course of 36 months. Since our adoption a few years ago of the Revised Common Lectionary with its “two track” options for lessons from the Hebrew Scriptures, an even more is read over the course of 72 months if both Old Testament tracks are used (I’m not sure what that percentage would be).

In addition, we like to point out that a good deal of The Book of Common Prayer — the prayers, the litanies and responsorials, the various liturgies, to say nothing of the Psalter — is taken directly from Scripture, so even when we aren’t specifically reading from the Bible, we are using and hearing the language of the holy text. However, in my estimation, we aren’t learning it! We’ve heard it, but we don’t know it.

If there is one abiding failure in my denominational tradition (and there are, I must admit, more than one, but for the moment we’ll limit our discussion), it is that we do not promote the biblical literacy of our members. And we seem to take pride in our failure. When Episcopalians are reminded about how much better some other Christian traditions are at remembering the words of Scripture, I have heard them reply along the lines of . . . “Well, in the Episcopal Church we aren’t required to leave our brains at the door; we’re allowed to think! We don’t just memorize bible verses.” I wonder if those who pride themselves on not “just memorizing” bible verses would also take pride in not memorizing the multiplication tables. If one’s brain is to function, if one is truly to think, if one is to undertake the calculus of faith, one must have at hand and in memory the data and the techniques required, just as one must know the numbers and the techniques of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division to do the calculus of higher mathematics.

One of my favorite prayers in the BCP is the collect for Proper 28 used on the Sunday closest to November 16. Because it comes at the end of Ordinary Time, which is frequently truncated, we often do not hear it:

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

We Episcopalians are pretty good on the hearing, not bad on the reading. But marking, learning, and inwardly digesting . . . those we need to work on. We have heard them; we know them; we just don’t know that we know them.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Good Question, God – From the Daily Office – August 4, 2013

August 4, 2014 / eric / 1 Comment

From the Psalms:

O Lord God of hosts, how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers?

(From the Daily Office Lectionary [Morning Psalm] – Psalm 80:4 (NRSV) – August 4, 2014)

Question Mark I am becoming quite fond of the New Revised Standard Version’s Psalter! It keeps hitting me with new ways, often disturbing ways of understanding the hymns of David, which I have habitually read from the Book of Common Prayer (1979) since being ordained. However, I’m finding new insights by using the NRSV and other translations instead of the Prayer Book.

Take the fourth verse of this morning’s psalm, for example. The BCP version is:

O Lord God of Hosts, how long will you be angered despite the prayers of your people?

There’s a huge difference between this and the NRSV’s rendering, a staggering difference. God being angered “despite” our prayers is a very, very different thing from God being angry “with” our prayers! The Authorized (King James) version uses yet another preposition:

O Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou be angry against the prayer of thy people.

Any of these is a valid interpretation of the somewhat ambiguous Hebrew word ‘ad which has a root meaning of “until” and, frankly, the King James is perhaps the best because it picks up that ambiguity.

The Prayer Book’s “despite” suggests that our prayers ought to be acceptable to God, that God’s anger persists in the face of supplications and petitions which should be satisfactory to God and should placate God’s anger. The NRSV’s “with,” on the other hand, would imply that our prayers are not acceptable, that they are the cause of God’s anger. The KJV’s “against” could mean either.

In any event, the NRSV’s translation throws the question in the Psalm back at me in a way the BCP version never has, although even there it should. The question really is not how long will God be angry; the question might be, “What is it about my prayer that angers God or fails to assuage God’s discontent? What is inadequate or unacceptable in my prayer?”

Asking that question, however, reminds me of two things. First, I recall what I was taught about prayer as a child – that its purpose is not to change God, but to change me. The reason we pray is not to change God’s mind, but to conform our minds to God’s. Second, I recall a line from an ancient hymn: “God is love and where true love is, God himself is there.” Remembering those two things, the question changes again: “Is God truly angry, or am I [is the Psalmist] simply perceiving God as angry because I am not conformed to God’s love, because I am somehow out of sync, out of a proper relationship with God?”

The Psalm’s question to God, “How long will you . . . .?” is really God’s question of me, “How long will I . . . .?” How long will I persist in attitudes and behaviors that distort my relationship with God, that make me perceive God’s love as anger? God can’t (or won’t) answer that question; only I can.

Good question, God, really good question.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Death-Shadow – From the Daily Office – August 2, 2014

August 2, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalms:

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.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary [Evening Psalm] – Psalm 23:4 (BCP Version) – August 2, 2014)

Dark Valley The 23rd Psalm is so popular, such a familiar and well-loved devotion for so many people, that one is loath to say anything about it. It was something my grandfather (staunch Methodist Sunday School teacher) insisted his grandchildren memorize and recite every night before bed, so I even have personal trepidation about messing with it. But mess with it I will.

I’m critical of the language used by the King James edition interpreters: “the valley of the shadow of death.” It’s not that it’s a bad translation. In fact, it’s almost a verbatim rendering of the Hebrew . . . and that’s the problem! A verbatim rendering misses the point (I think).

My entire life I have personalize “the shadow of death.” I suspect I’m not alone. I’ve always thought of this as a metaphor for the Evil One and, thus, have spiritualized this psalm. I’ve thought it had to do with passing through the some realm in the afterlife like Orpheus seeking Eurydice. But that’s wrong!

The Hebrew is tsalmaveth, a compound word made from tsel meaning “shadow” and maveth meaning “death.” It would best be rendered as “death-shadow,” meaning the deepest, thickest, blackest, gloomiest darkness one can imagine and, figuratively, a place of extreme danger.

The Complete Jewish Bible renders this verse, “Even if I pass through death-dark ravines, I will fear no disaster; for you are with me; your rod and staff reassure me.” Understanding tsalmaveth in this way (as deep darkness and potential extreme danger) makes so much more sense of the “comforted (or reassured) by rod and staff” part!

This isn’t about not going to or through or beyond Hell. It’s about getting through life, through real-life situations of danger, with God’s help.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Encountering Jesus with Mixed Emotions – From the Daily Office – August 1, 2014

August 1, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalms:

When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was stupid and ignorant; I was like a brute beast towards you.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary [Evening Psalm] – Psalm 73:21-22 (NRSV) – August 1, 2014)

Coexist - Religious Symbols I don’t know what to do about Israel and Palestine. Apparently no one knows what to do about Israel and Palestine. There is so much bitterness and emotion on both sides and from all quarters that no one can even talk about Israel and Palestine.

There’s a Facebook meme that I see from time to time: “How to start an argument online.” The instructions are simple: (1) express an opinion; (2) wait. With regard to the fighting and the deaths in Gaza, this is especially true.

Condemn the government of Israel or the Israeli Defense Force for bombing schools and hospitals . . . one is immediately labeled anti-Semitic.

Express sympathy for the people of Israel who have to deal with Hamas’ rockets . . . get called a Right-wing ideologue.

Vent one’s horror at the deaths of Palestinian women and children . . . you are obviously a supporter of Hamas.

Suggest that maybe the two sides should sit down and work out a way to live together . . . clearly one is naive or, worse, delusional.

So much bitterness and heartsickness on all sides; so much stupid brutishness as a result.

In today’s gospel, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go to the tomb, find it empty, and encounter an angel. Even though the angel tells them to not be afraid, they are; they leave the tomb “with fear and great joy.” They have, as my late mother was fond of saying about many things, “mixed emotions.” This ought to be, and probably is, what most people have about the situation in Israel and Palestine.

But what we seem incapable of doing is admitting that, that our emotions are mixed. Instead, we latch on to one predominant emotion and let it color every statement and conversation: horror at the death of children and we become passionate defenders of the Palestinians, unable to see that there is some right on the side of the Israelis; fear for the Jewish homeland and we become passionate advocates for the IDF, unable to see that there is good on the Palestinian side, as well. In the thrall of emotion, as the Psalm says, we become stupid and brutish.

The women, with mixed emotions, encountered Jesus.

One of the things we learned on our recent trip to the Holy Land was that there has been a significant, even drastic drop in the percentage of the population which is Christian. Thirty years ago, about 25% of Palestine’s residents were Christian; today, less than 2%. Israel blames “Muslim extremism” for causing the Christian exodus; Palestinians counter that it results from Israeli government policies. It really doesn’t matter, however; the decrease is a fact.

What is also a fact is that, on the ground — not from government or leadership sources, but from people we met on the street, both Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arab Muslims told us in no uncertain terms that they need the Christian presence, that they see in the Christian community the only possibility for peace and reconciliation. They believe that the Christian presence holds the possibility for mediation and a way forward for all.

They made it clear, of course, that by “Christian presence” they mean the traditional churches, the Roman Catholics and the Greek Orthodox, the Lutherans and the Anglicans, not the “Armageddonists,” the fanatics who support the ultra-Orthodox Jews who want to rebuild the Temple, the Dispensationalists who think the recreation of “biblical Israel” will hasten the Rapture, the Tribulation, the final battle, and the return of Christ. The presence of those folks holds only the promise of greater conflict.

No . . . the people we met on the streets and in the shops of Jerusalem, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and elsewhere want, with their mixed emotions, with their bitterness and heartsickness, to encounter Jesus in the people of his church. They want to, as the Lutheran bishop in the Holy Land said yesterday, engage in “interfaith dialogue, a dialogue which seeks the common values of peace, justice, co-existence, and non-violence.” (Bishop Munib Younan)

This is why the traditional Christians of Palestine must stay, and why the traditional Christians of other countries must support them with our prayers and encouragement, our financial contributions, and even our presence. We must not be afraid to go to the Holy Land to stand with them and to greet the other children of Abraham, the Jews and the Muslims, to say to all, as Paul said to the Corinthians, that there is a “still more excellent way.” (1 Cor 12:31)

“Without dialogue between religions, extremism will grow and moderates, including Christians, will be sidelined and marginalized in their own societies. It is time not only for governments to assume their responsibilities, but also people of faith.” (Bishop Younan)

We must not allow mixed emotions, bitterness, or heartsickness to turn us brutish and stupid. Rather, with all of our emotion and our intellects, we must encounter Christ and we must be the Christ others encounter.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Talking of Michelangelo – From the Daily Office – July 31, 2014

July 31, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Gospel according to Matthew:

When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus; then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting opposite the tomb.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Matthew 27:57-62 (NRSV) – July 31, 2014)

One evening during our recent pilgrimage to the Holy Land, while we were staying at the guest house of the White Sisters of Nazareth in Nazareth, our tour director took a group of us into the basement of the convent and then deeper underground. We entered an excavation in which a First Century home and, nearby, a tomb had been discovered and were preserved by the Sisters with little fanfare or public acknowledgment.

The tomb was the sort known as a “bench tomb” containing an outer room, where the bodies would be prepared, wrapped in linen and anointed with spiced, aromatic oils, and an inner room, where the bodies would be laid on stone benches carved in the walls. The bodies would repose for a few years while desert air, insects, and the processes of decay did their work. Later, perhaps after about four years, the bones would be removed, placed in an ossuary, and the ossuary taken to a necropolis for their permanent rest.

Our guide referred several times to the outer room as “the room where women wept.” It was the women’s job to attend to the bodies of the dead, to prepare them for their time of decay on the tomb’s stone benches. Each time he said it, I thought of a couple of lines from a poem by T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.”

And I wondered, what would the women have talked about as they went through the task of washing the bodies of the dead, anointing them with the oils, wrapping them with the linen bindings?

Would they talk only about the deceased? Or would the conversation move on to cover other things of daily life — marriages and births, departures from the village, illnesses and aches-and-pains? Would it stray into less familiar territory — philosophy and art, “talk of Michelangelo,” current politics, synagogue governance?

What might Mary Magdalene and the other Mary have discussed if they had had the opportunity to perform their ritual task that Friday afternoon? The gospels give us no clue and we are left with only our imaginations to fill in the gap. That is the frustration, as well as the beauty and wonder, of religion. True faith does not seek to answer every question, fill in every space, but leaves room for the believer’s active fancy to flesh out the story. What might the women have talked about? Use your imagination!

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Prayers Not Ended – From the Daily Office – July 30, 2014

July 30, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

The prayers of David son of Jesse are ended.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 72:20 (NRSV) – July 30, 2014)

Muslim Man Praying in Sujood “Wait! I’ve never seen that verse.” I probably have, actually, but as with much of Scripture seeing it and paying attention to it are rather different things. In any event, that was my thought as I read the morning psalm today from the Bible instead of from the Book of Common Prayer.

I have read the Psalms four times a year for more than twenty years; I was ordained a deacon in 1990 and began, part of my clergy discipline, the regular round of readings in the Daily Office lectionary including its every-three-month rotation through the Psalter. More than ninety times now, and I cannot recall ever reading, saying, or chanting, “The prayers of David son of Jesse are ended.”

So . . . I turn to page 686 in my Prayer Book and discover . . . it’s not there! Verse 20 simply isn’t there in the Prayer Book version of Psalm 72. Maybe I haven’t ever seen this verse before!

I’m used to not seeing the Psalter’s superscriptions in the BCP, those blocks of information that precede the actual song in many biblical manuscripts, those introductory notes where we find primarily technical, descriptive terms and phrases that relate to the authorship or performance of the psalm to which they are attached. Some are there, but mostly they have been edited away. I presume that the Prayer Book editors considered verse 20 some sort of footnote of similar liturgical or spiritual import to the superscriptions (which is to say none) and, thus, deleted it.

But this morning I find myself drawn to it and intrigued by what it means to say that prayers are “ended,” particularly given alternative translations of the original Hebrew kalah. This word appears frequently in the Hebrew scriptures – over 200 times; it occurs twenty-one times in the Psalms and is variously translated in the psalter and elsewhere.

Here it is given what I take to be the simplest of meanings: Psalm 72 is the last of the psalms (“prayers”) ascribed to David – whatever follows are by other poets. But elsewhere it has been interpreted to mean something quite different.

For example, in Psalm 69 it is used to describe failure of one’s eyesight (for sight to “grow dim” as the NRSV puts it):

I am weary with my crying; my throat is parched. My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God. (Ps. 69:3, NRSV)

I have grown weary with my crying; my throat is inflamed; my eyes have failed from looking for my God. (Ps. 69:4, BCP)

In Psalm 18 it is rendered as “consumed” in the NRSV and as “destroyed” in the BCP:

I pursued my enemies and overtook them; and did not turn back until they were consumed. (Ps. 18:37, NRSV)

I pursue my enemies and overtake them; I will not turn back till I have destroyed them. (Ps. 18:38, BCP)

What if these meanings are what the final, BCP-exluded verse of Psalm 72 is really getting at? What would it mean to end a psalm with the thought, “The prayers of David have failed” or “The prayers of David are consumed” or “The prayers of David are destroyed”? In light of today’s conflicts throughout the world, especially in the Middle East, and most especially in Israel-Palestine, Psalm 72’s petition that the rulers of nations be given righteousness that they may govern with justice and in peace would certainly seem to have failed . . . .

Perhaps the most poignant and fitting alternative translation of kalah is found in Psalm 84, in which it is rendered as expressing deep desire and longing (“yearning”):

My soul longed and even yearned for the courts of the Lord; My heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God. (Ps. 84:2, NRSV)

My soul has a desire and longing for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh rejoice in the living God. (Ps. 84:1b, BCP)

Given the tenor of the petitions of Psalm 72, I think this may be the best way to understand verse 20. The psalms, the prayers of David are not ended. They are not destroyed or consumed. They have not failed . . . but neither have they not been answered. The world still longs for peace. The world still yearns for justice. The world still desires righteousness.

This is why the church continues, day in and day out, every three months, four times a year, to read, recite, chant, and sing the psalms. They express a deep, a very deep still-unfulfilled yearning for the reign of God. The prayers of David son of Jesse are not ended. Perhaps the Prayer Book editors were right in omitting verse 20 . . . .

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

“The cattle are dying; invest in vultures” – From the Daily Office – July 29, 2014

July 29, 2014 / eric / 1 Comment

From the Book of Judges:

Then the Israelites did what was evil in the sight of the Lord and worshiped the Baals; and they abandoned the Lord, the God of their ancestors, who had brought them out of the land of Egypt; they followed other gods, from among the gods of the peoples who were all around them, and bowed down to them; and they provoked the Lord to anger. They abandoned the Lord, and worshiped Baal and the Astartes. So the anger of the Lord was kindled against Israel, and he gave them over to plunderers who plundered them, and he sold them into the power of their enemies all around, so that they could no longer withstand their enemies. Whenever they marched out, the hand of the Lord was against them to bring misfortune, as the Lord had warned them and sworn to them; and they were in great distress.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Judges 2:11-15 (NRSV) – July 29, 2014)

Vultures My usual Sunday afternoon occupation, after presiding and preaching at church and making any needed pastoral calls, is reading the online edition of the New York Times, which is what I did Sunday. Among the many items that got my attention was a very short report on some economic statistics, specifically on the fact that the net worth of the typical American family has decreased by more than a third over the last decade: “The inflation-adjusted net worth for the typical household was $87,992 in 2003. Ten years later, it was only $56,335, or a 36 percent decline, according to a study financed by the Russell Sage Foundation.” (The Typical Household)

What happened during that decade, of course, was the so-called “housing bubble,” the debt default crisis, the packaging of sub-prime mortgages into derivative investments, the Great Recession, the bank bail-out, and a significant increase in student debt (made non-dischargeable in bankruptcy by a Congress which also refused to find ways to lower the interest rate on such loans). Typical Americans saw their biggest asset (the family home) substantially reduced in value while their indebtedness increased. Of course their net worth went down! I don’t want to believe that Americans have been given “over to plunderers who plundered them,” but Americans certainly are “in great distress.”

In fact, as I am writing this, I just received an email from Bill Moyers (a subscription service, of course; Bill Moyers doesn’t write to me personally) with this tidbit: “50% of jobs in the US pay less than $34,000 a year. And 25% of jobs in the US pay below the poverty line for a family of four: less than $23,000 annually.”

Now, in truth, I’m not the sort who believes that God hands people over to plunderers or sells “them into the power of their enemies all around.” That’s an ancient way to understand the law of cause and effect (and, perhaps, the law of unintended consequences), but as a metaphor for how the world works . . . it works for me. Especially if the metaphor makes us give thought to what “Baals and Astartes” we may be worshiping and with what consequent effect.

With the Times’ report still in my memory, I turned on NPR in my car as I went to make a call early yesterday afternoon and one of their many news and commentary programs were on — I think it may have been “The World.” The subject under discussion was the announced acquisition of the Family Dollar grocery chain by its “extreme value” competitor, Dollar Tree. The reporter was interviewing a stock market analyst, a specialist in retail commerce stocks, about the merger, asking if the analyst thought it was a wise move by Dollar Tree.

The analyst was just gushing about what a great deal this was and why stocks of “extreme value” retailers (it was from him I learned this term) are such a good buy for an investor. His basic reason: the number of people below the poverty line has doubled in the last decade! The number of poverty level households in the United States has gone from one-in-twelve to one-in-six. People living in such families are the natural market for “extreme value” retailers, so their market share has increased. They are poised, he said, “to make a killing!”

I was flabbergasted! I’d never heard anyone so overjoyed that more Americans are living in destitution, that so many of his fellow citizens are in need. He was, in essence, say, “A lot of people can’t afford good products, so the wealthy should invest in the stores that sell them substandard crap. Lots of money to be made there.” Isn’t that like saying, “The cattle are dying; invest in vultures”? Or (to use our bible metaphor today), “God is handing them over to be plundered; invest in the plunderers! God is selling them to their enemy; invest in the enemy!”

Who or what are the “Baals and Atartes” this society worships? Who are the “plunderers” to whom we are given over to be plundered? On what altars are we sacrificing and what is it we are offering?

On one level, this is just economics. The part of me that went to business school and has an MBA wants to say, “That’s just the way markets work.” But another part of me must respond, “But that’s just unacceptable.” And I remember Someone who said, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” (Mt 6:24, NRSV)

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Foundation Stones – From the Daily Office – July 28, 2014

July 28, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Letter to the Romans:

Greet Prisca and Aquila, who work with me in Christ Jesus, and who risked their necks for my life, to whom not only I give thanks, but also all the churches of the Gentiles. Greet also the church in their house. Greet my beloved Epaenetus, who was the first convert in Asia for Christ. Greet Mary, who has worked very hard among you. Greet Andronicus and Junia, my relatives who were in prison with me; they are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before I was. Greet Ampliatus, my beloved in the Lord. Greet Urbanus, our co-worker in Christ, and my beloved Stachys. Greet Apelles, who is approved in Christ. Greet those who belong to the family of Aristobulus. Greet my relative Herodion. Greet those in the Lord who belong to the family of Narcissus. Greet those workers in the Lord, Tryphaena and Tryphosa. Greet the beloved Persis, who has worked hard in the Lord. Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord; and greet his mother — a mother to me also. Greet Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, and the brothers and sisters who are with them. Greet Philologus, Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas, and all the saints who are with them. Greet one another with a holy kiss. All the churches of Christ greet you.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 16:3-16 (NRSV) – July 28, 2014)

Foundation Stones Paul often ends his correspondence with these requests that the readers convey his personal greetings to specifically named people. I often find myself skimming those parts of the reading, just passing quickly over them. But, also, I often find myself pausing at these names, wondering about them. Who were they? What did they do in their daily lives? How is it that Paul was personally acquainted with them?

Once upon a time I thought about preaching a series of sermons — or maybe writing some short stories — based on fanciful biographies for these named but now forgotten members of the early church. I gave up on that when I realized I had neither the gift for fiction nor sufficient knowledge of daily life in the First Century to do so credibly. Maybe someone else will do that — I would be among his or her readers if someone did.

When I read these names, I cannot help but think of a passage in the Book of Sirach, a passage read at my late brother’s funeral several years ago:

Let us now sing the praises of famous men, our ancestors in their generations. The Lord apportioned to them great glory, his majesty from the beginning. There were those who ruled in their kingdoms, and made a name for themselves by their valor; those who gave counsel because they were intelligent; those who spoke in prophetic oracles; those who led the people by their counsels and by their knowledge of the people’s lore; they were wise in their words of instruction; those who composed musical tunes, or put verses in writing; rich men endowed with resources, living peacefully in their homes — all these were honored in their generations, and were the pride of their times. Some of them have left behind a name, so that others declare their praise. But of others there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born, they and their children after them. But these also were godly men, whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten; their wealth will remain with their descendants, and their inheritance with their children’s children. (Sirach 44:1-11)

These friends of Paul are those of whom “there is no memory,” those who “have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born.” Nothing of their lives remains other than these greetings in Paul’s letters. And there are countless others of those early followers of Jesus of whom even less is left . . . .

Except, of course, the church. These forgotten followers of the way are the lowest course of the living stones which are built up into the spiritual house that is the church (1 Pt 2:5), that “house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” (2 Cor 5:1) They are the foundation stones lying next to and alongside the Cornerstone.

The church is “their wealth [which] remains with [us] their descendants.” So don’t pass over the names of those to whom Paul sends personal greetings. Pause and give thanks for them. Without them, we wouldn’t be here.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Category: Daily Office (Page 16 of 70)

I Pondered the Works of God – From the Daily Office – August 7, 2014

A Pointless Question? – From the Daily Office – August 6, 2014

We Just Don’t Know – From the Daily Office – August 5, 2014

Good Question, God – From the Daily Office – August 4, 2013

Death-Shadow – From the Daily Office – August 2, 2014

Encountering Jesus with Mixed Emotions – From the Daily Office – August 1, 2014

Talking of Michelangelo – From the Daily Office – July 31, 2014

Prayers Not Ended – From the Daily Office – July 30, 2014

“The cattle are dying; invest in vultures” – From the Daily Office – July 29, 2014

Foundation Stones – From the Daily Office – July 28, 2014

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