Tuesday • 11/8/2022 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 78; Joel 1:15–2:11; Revelation 19:1-10; Luke 14:25-35

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 13 (“A Song of Praise,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

Today … Revelation 19’s fourfold Hallelujah … finally! The word “Hallelujah” is a transliteration of a Hebrew word that means, “Praise Yah[weh]!” It is an exuberant exclamation of worship that courses through the Book of Psalms. It especially marks the times when Israel celebrates Yahweh as King (e.g., Psalms 96 & 98). And there is a glorious clustering of “Hallelujah” psalms at the end of the Book of Psalms, as though Israel’s hymnbook were forecasting the end of time, when Yahweh will be exalted as King of the whole earth— when Yahweh “lifts up those who are bowed down,” when Yahweh “adorns the humble with victory,” and when it’s finally time to “Let everything that has breath praise Yahweh! Hallelujah!” (Psalm 146:8; 149:4; 150:6). 

It is surprising to many readers of the Bible to discover that the word occurs in the New Testament only four times—and all of them are in today’s passage almost at the end of the New Testament. No “Hallelujahs” in the narratives of Jesus’s birth; nor at his baptism, nor at any of his miracles or teachings—not even at his resurrection. It’s almost as though the New Testament holds back its fourfold “Hallelujah,” waiting for today’s moment. 

The New Testament celebrates with its sole “Hallelujahs” the culmination of the story of two women: the destruction of “the great whore,” and the presentation of “the bride” for “the marriage supper of the Lamb.” Two things are worth the wait: the end of everything that corrupts and destroys humankind, and the consummation of the love of the Divine Husband for his Bride. These are the things that make John the Revelator go all George Frideric Handel on us: “Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.”

The marriage arc. “And I will take you for my wife forever…” — Hosea 2:19. Our readings in the Daily Office the past few months have provided us ample opportunity to explore the theme of God as husband and Israel as bride, or Christ as husband and the Church as bride. This portrait is one of the most powerful of all the many images the Bible provides for the way God establishes a relationship between himself and us. 

It is small wonder that historically, both for Jews and Christians, marriage has taken on a “sacramental cast”—that is, every marriage has the potential for pointing beyond itself to our union with God. In Jewish practice, Song of Songs is Shabbat evening reading. And Christian weddings often cite Paul’s reference to human marriage as a “mystery” of something beyond itself: “It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and his Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 423, drawing on Ephesians 5:32). 

From celibate mystics to married couples with children, believers have clung tenaciously to the sacramental nature of marriage as being vital to the church’s identity and witness. At its heart, the analogy between a husband and a wife becoming “one flesh” provides each of us with the heart-pounding and enthralling possibility of seeing ourselves as someone Christ loves personally and passionately. 

The righteous deeds of the saints. “’…his bride has made herself ready; to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure’ — for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints. — Revelation 19:7b-8. 

Most Christians I know are guilt-ridden. They’re pretty sure that there’s nothing about their lives that is praiseworthy or commendable. And, to be sure, the Bible is clear that none of us merits eternal life. It’s a gift, pure and simple: “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God; they are now justified freely by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus” (Romans 3:23-24). True enough. And, thanks be, for Jesus’s dying and rising, by which we are forgiven and made new. 

Beyond that, when we consider the church, it’s hard for most of us, I think, to imagine that the church as we know it measures up to the picture of its being ready to be given “fine linen” because of “the righteous deeds of the saints.” It’s hard for any of us, I suppose, to imagine that the church we experience approximates what Paul envisions when he says it is his goal to present the church “as a chaste virgin to Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:2). 

God’s perspective, however, seems to be different. When he looks at us, and when he looks at the church, he sees not so much what is, but what shall be. And then when he considers the paltry offerings we make of our lives, he sees not paltriness, but plenitude—not deficiency, but abundance. I’ve been helped a lot—in my thinking about myself and about the church—by these words from John Calvin:

God’s children are pleasing and lovable to him, since he sees in them the marks and features of his own countenance. For we have elsewhere taught that regeneration is a renewal of the divine image in us. Since, therefore, wherever God contemplates his own face, he both rightly loves it and holds it in honor, it is said with good reason that the lives of believers, framed to holiness and righteousness, are pleasing to him. (Institutes 3.17.5)

Therefore, as we ourselves, when we have been engrafted in Christ, are righteous in God’s sight because our iniquities are covered by Christ’s sinlessness, so our works are righteous and are thus regarded because whatever fault is otherwise in them is buried in Christ’s purity, and is not charged to our account. Accordingly, we can deservedly say that by faith alone not only we ourselves but our works as well are justified. (Institutes 3.17.10) 

May you—his dear child and beloved member of the bride of Christ—enjoy a confident sense of God’s favor, through Christ our Lord.

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+