Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 38; Isaiah 6:1–13; 2 Thessalonians 1:1–12; John 7:53–8:11

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 11 (“The Third Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 60:1–3,11a,14c,18–19, BCP, p. 87); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 16 (“The Song of Zechariah,” Luke 1:68–79, BCP, p. 92)

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Relicta sunt duo, miseria et misericorda (“Two remain, misery and mercy”). In six Latin words, the fifth century bishop of Carthage, St. Augustine, offers the most elegant commentary imaginable on today’s gospel passage about the Woman Caught in Adultery. 

Despite the fact that this story just may embody Jesus’s ministry better than any other, it is the least well attested of any event of his life. Why? Well, this particular story, only told in John’s gospel, interrupts the narrative flow of the book. And it is not written in John’s Greek—in neither his writing style nor his vocabulary. As a result, some modern scholars reject the story’s authenticity altogether. But the story stubbornly and persistently commends itself. The likelihood, I think, is that the story is authentic, but that it was written by someone other than John. It earned a place in Scripture because it pressed itself upon early believers as being true to who Jesus is and as having come from reliable sources. Augustine simply treats it as an established part of Jesus’s ministry. I suggest we do the same. 

One of the places the story occurs in the manuscript tradition is here, where the Daily Office places it: right after Luke tells us that during Holy Week, Jesus was spending his nights on the Mount of Olives and then teaching at the temple during the day (Luke 21:37–38). At the beginning of John 8, as Jesus returns from the Mount of Olives on one of these mornings to resume his teaching ministry in the temple, he is intercepted by a posse of righteous people. In their custody is a woman who has been caught “dead to rights” in the act of adultery. They want to know whether Jesus is going to comply with Jewish law that demands condemnation and execution; or whether instead, he is going to be true to his own teachings about love, compassion, and forgiveness.

Jesus does not straightforwardly confront these enforcers with their hypocrisy. Contrary to the Law of Moses, they’ve only brought one of the guilty parties—the woman. Curiously, he bends down and starts writing in the sand. What’s he doing? Gathering his thoughts? What’s he writing? Nobody knows. Maybe he’s writing out the Scripture, “If a man commits adultery with the wife of his neighbor, both the adulterer and the adulteress shall be put to death” (Leviticus 20:10). Or maybe he’s just writing something like: “Adultery is horrible. But, hey, where’s the guy?!” 

Members of this coterie of morality sheriffs persist in their demands, and after a while Jesus stands up and simply says: “The sinless one among you, go first: Throw the stone” (John 8:7 The Message). He bends down again … and starts writing again. In The Gospel Road, the 1973 movie about Jesus’s life, Johnny Cash offers a wonderful suggestion: “Maybe he’s writing things like, ‘Liar’ … ‘Hypocrite’ … ‘Thief’ … ‘Rapist’ … ‘Murderer.’” Regardless, it’s enough to make the tattletales slink away, each of them, one by one. One of the reasons for thinking this story is true rather than fabricated is its understatement: somebody who is making up a fictitious Jesus might want to make him sound like their idea of the “real Jesus” by having him rail at the hypocrites. At the same time, the story’s pastoral sensibility sounds just like the Jesus we do know from the canonical gospels: Jesus, the discerner of hearts, gives each sinner—even these guys!—room to reflect, and space to repent. 

The next words in the text are: “…and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before him” (John 8:9). What a dramatic moment. And Augustine gets it just right: All that is left is the sinner’s need for mercy, and Mercy’s readiness to give it. Jesus asks the woman where her complainants are, and whether there is anyone left to accuse her. Her answer is simply, “Nobody, sir.” Then again, it’s not that simple. The word she uses for “sir” is kurie, which also means “Lord.” 

Jesus’s answer also appears simple, but on reflection is not: “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again” (John 8:11). Jesus came neither to condemn sin nor to dismiss it—he came to absorb it and kill it. He has to tell some people to follow him so they can understand things better. However, our Lord trusts this one—delivered from the miseria of sin and condemnation—to work out how misericorda kills sin. So he can say to her very simply, “Go your way.” 

Living in that same misericorda, may you be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Midday Eucharist

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 26; Psalm 28; Isaiah 5:13–17,24–25; 1 Thessalonians 5:12–28; Luke 21:29–38

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)

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Isaiah and God’s Word. “My people go into exile without knowledge…” —Isaiah 5:13. What stands out in today’s verses in Isaiah is the way the prophet traces Israel’s sin to its root: “…for they have rejected the instruction of the Lord of hosts, and have despised the word of the Holy One of Israel” (Isaiah 5:24). 

I offer this one takeaway: it is worth reading the Bible deeply and consistently—even the hard parts, even the cringeworthy parts, even the parts that are subject to various interpretations. The Bible imparts “knowledge” … and … “the instruction of the Lord of hosts,” because it is “the word of the Holy One of Israel.” 

Truth is under assault in our culture. Online news services offer “clickbait,” designed to do nothing other than to keep us clicking. The 24-hour news cycle sustains itself bynd along the way, we can become either hopelessly skeptical or baselessly fanatical. 

The Word of God centers us in the one true story (“What was lost, is now found”), provides us the one true roadmap for life (“Your Word is a lamp to my feet”), and offers the one grid for sifting the surfeit of swirling supposed data (“In your light, we see light”)—see Luke 15:24; Psalm 119:105; Psalm 36:9. 

Paul and God’s People. “Be at peace among yourselves. And we urge you, beloved, to admonish the idlers, encourage the faint hearted, help the weak, be patient with all of them” — 1 Thessalonians 5:1 constantly stirring the pot: did somebody “steal” an election? is global warming real? is racism systemic or personal? Answers aren’t important. Viewership is. Keeping us agitated is. A3b–14. Paul’s closing words in this letter to recent converts who are confused about the “how” and “when” of Jesus’s return amount to this: Take care of each other. 

Most of these people are brand new converts from a pagan background: “…you turned from idols to serve a living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven…” (1 Thessalonians 1:9). They are only now beginning their journey to understand the Bible—which, at the time, consisted merely of what we now call the Old Testament. There was no New Testament. Besides, in the culture of the first century Roman world, it is questionable how many would have even been able to read.

That’s one of the reasons Paul insists that they come together so his letter can be read to them. It’s also one of the reasons Paul tells them (in the plural—i.e., when they are together) to listen carefully to words of prophets who rise up in the church, not “despising” their words, but also testing them (testing them together, it needs to be emphasized). We learn from each other as we learn from God’s word—and that means we need to read and listen to God’s word with one another. If biblical illiteracy seems rampant today—and it is—the situation is not that much different than in the world Paul confronted. And Paul’s solution is as powerful today as it was then. Come together; and read, listen, ponder, and discern. 

The Thessalonians’ individual destinies are wrapped up in one anothers’ destiny—and that destiny is to be a rejoicing, praying, and thanksgiving (Greek: eucharistein) people (1 Thessalonians 5:16–18). That’s why Paul tells them to respect, esteem, and love their spiritual leaders (1 Thessalonians 5:13–14a), and to extend the peace of Christ by ministering to each person according to their spiritual needs (whether it means being straightforward with shirkers or long-suffering with “snowflakes” or tending to the infirm—1 Thessalonians 5:14b). 

Luke and God’s Kingdom. Jesus’s focus in his Final Discourse in Luke is on the way the upcoming destruction of Jerusalem will round out the events that establish God’s kingdom and initiate the season of testimony to its King: “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place” (Luke 21:32). Downrange, however, there is still the fact that the Son of Man will return to usher in the eternal state, when heaven and earth are made new and the heavenly Jerusalem descends. Downrange, we all will “stand before the Son of Man” (Luke 21:36). 

It’s helpful, I think, that we regard the first century event as a foreshadowing of the still future event. Jesus was coming into his rule as Ascended Lord, with the accompanying destruction of the earthly temple. Jesus’s disciples needed to cultivate a certain mindset in order to prepare for that “coming.” Jesus’s “Parousia,” his still future return in glorious triumph, will bring the Heavenly Jerusalem to a new earth and new heaven. A certain mindset is exactly what we ourselves need so that we may be ready for “Parousia”:  

First, the recognition that King Jesus will indeed finally prevail. No matter how bleak things look, and no matter how long it takes, nonetheless God’s rule and reign “will come upon all who live on the face of the earth” (Luke 21:35). All the pressing matters that face any generation of believers (e.g., partisanship,  pandemics, persecutions) only come into perspective when seen in the light of this one amazing mystery: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again!

Second, the same watchful diligence that was incumbent upon the disciples of Jesus’s day: “Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap” (Luke 21:34). 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Noonday Prayer

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 25; Isaiah 5:8–12,18–23; 1 Thessalonians 5:1–11; Luke 21:20–28

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 9 (“The First Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 12:2–6, BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94)

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Isaiah. In today’s verses in Isaiah, the prophet provides a succinct summary of the reign of evil: injustice, intemperance, and mendacity. 

God had planted Israel as a vine among the nations. Her calling in this world was to be the place where God began to reverse the curse of Eden, and to bring life back into the world—restoring right relationships, personal wholeness, and faithfulness. 

As Saturday’s reading in the Daily Office put it: “My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. … he expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes” (Isaiah 5:2). Instead of right relationships, Isaiah finds broken relationships. Israel’s social life is crippled by greedy landowners and developers who displace the poor, and leave themselves with vast, but barren estates: “Ah, you who who acquit the guilty for a bribe, and deprive the innocent of their rights!” (Isaiah 5:9–10,23). 

Instead of personal wholeness, Isaiah finds people destroying themselves with heavy drinking and dissolute partying: “Ah, you who rise early in the morning in pursuit of strong drink, who linger in the evening to be inflamed by wine, whose feasts consist of lyre and harp, tambourine and flute and wine … Ah, you who are heroes in drinking wine and valiant at mixing drink…” (Isaiah 5:11–12,22).

Instead of faithfulness, Isaiah finds people perpetuating the lying that the serpent of Eden inserted into the human equation: “Ah, you who drag iniquity along with cords of falsehood … Ah, you who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Ah, you who are wise in your own eyes, and shrewd in your own sight!” (Isaiah 5:20–21). 

In Isaiah’s stinging and comprehensive indictment, he anticipates Paul’s appeal to the Cretan self-indictment (“Cretans are always liars, vicious beasts, lazy gluttons”—Titus 1:12). And it’s perhaps not insignificant that in the verses in Isaiah 5 not included in today’s readings (verses 13–17), Isaiah calls Israel’s life worthy of Sheol, or Hell (verse 14). It so happens that both the Latin poet Virgil and the Italian poet Dante map Hell as a descent from “intemperance” to “injustice” to “mendacity”—a progression entirely reminiscent of Isaiah’s description of a Sheol-like life. 

If, this Advent, the world around (and even within) you looks too much like the world that Isaiah and Paul and Virgil and Dante saw, it’s because we still await that Second Coming in which all will be made finally right. Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Luke. Today’s passage in Luke is precisely parallel to Matthew 24:1–14, which came around in our readings on July 9. If you wish, you can view my reflections on that passage here. In that passage as well as in this one, Jesus is addressing a specific issue: the future of Jerusalem and the temple in the upcoming so-called Jewish War (A.D. 66–70).

Recall how Jesus had wept tears over Jerusalem as he approached the city: “As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, saying, ‘If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! … Indeed, the days will come upon you when your enemies … will crush you to the ground … and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God’” (Luke 21:41–44). 

Two things, I think, are worthy of note:

Jesus understands that his redemption of creation will include the elimination of Jerusalem’s earthly temple. The temple’s destruction, coming at the violent hands of a Roman army, is a matter of deep grief to him. The desolation of the Temple Mount (still in effect) is cause for us to share Jesus’s tears and to call out to God for children of that city to recognize in Jesus, Son of David, their “visitation from God.” 

“People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.  Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory’” (Luke 21:27). While the desolation Jesus predicts will come upon Jerusalem, that destruction “down here” will mark the very moment that “up there” he receives from his Heavenly Father all authority and dominion over the earth.  This, I believe, is the  “coming” of the Son of Man into the dominion that Daniel 7 had prophesied for him (again, you might consult my post from July 9 on Matthew 24:1–14). 

Over all the vicissitudes of our lives, over all the madness of earth’s history—over it all—Jesus reigns. And one day he will return in visible, glorious triumph. Lord, haste the day when faith shall be sight…

Paul. As though he had today’s words from Isaiah and Jesus on his mind, Paul writes for us in the meantime: “… let us be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and for a helmet the hope of salvation. For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing” (1 Thessalonians 5:8b–11). 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Sunday Worship

Noonday Prayer

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 16; Psalm 17; Isaiah 3:8–15; 1 Thessalonians 4:1–12; Luke 20:41–21:4

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 10 (“The Second Song of Isaiah,” Isaiah 55:6–11; BCP, p. 86); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9–10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

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Paul’s letters to the Thessalonians make for especially important reading during Advent. It appears from the Book of Acts that Paul’s evangelizing foray into their city had been cut short. He had taught there for only “three sabbaths” when “zealous” Jews “enlisted the help of a gang from the market place, stirred up a crowd, and soon had the whole city in an uproar” (Acts 17:2,5 Jerusalem Bible). The “brethren” decided Paul needed to leave (Acts 17:10). The questions that Paul addresses in subsequent letters to them indicate that the new converts in Thessalonica have follow up questions about one matter that Paul had introduced but had not been able to explain in full: that is, the second coming of Christ. 

In the second half of today’s chapter (tomorrow’s reading), Paul will clarify what happens to those who will have already died by the time Christ returns (1 Thessalonians 4:13–18). And in 2 Thessalonians, Paul will respond to false rumors that he has taught that “the coming of the Lord and our being gathered together to him” has actually already taken place—as if! (Second Thessalonians 2:1–11—that will be next Thursday’s reading.) 

With a wisdom that seems heaven-sent to me, Paul urges believers not to allow worry or speculation about the “not yet” of Christ’s return take away from the enormous importance of living for Christ in the “now.” That is the thrust of today’s epistle reading. 

Finally, brothers and sisters, we ask and urge you in the Lord Jesus that, as you learned from us how you ought to live and to please God (as, in fact, you are doing), you should do so more and more. For this is the will of God, your sanctification… — 1 Thessalonians 4:1–3a. The Thessalonians’ concerns about the end of time leads Paul to offer this most straightforward, helpful, and encouraging framing of the Christian life. 

When Paul was with the Thessalonians, he had taught them that followers of Christ live in a certain way. Their lives in the present can actually be pleasing to God (that is worth thinking about!). There is one life-goal for people who have been justified before the bar of God’s justice and forgiven their sins: to become sanctified, to grow in holiness and in likeness to their Lord. Paul is quick to affirm people when he sees them living that way, as he does here with the Thessalonians. He “asks” and “urges” them to do more of what they are already doing. Based on these verses, some students of Paul’s ethics sum up his approach in a formula that looks like this: “Become more of what you already are!” It’s as though Paul were saying: the future will take care of itself; let’s take care of what’s happening now. Personally, I find that to be life-giving. 

For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from fornication… — 1 Thessalonians 4:3. Paul is concerned that the first thing that will go out the window if the Thessalonians become preoccupied with “end times” questions is their sense of sexual propriety. (I won’t go into the details of what Paul means by “controlling your own body” and “not exploiting your brother or sister.”) He exhorts them to practice philadelphia (brotherly love, v. 9) and agapē (self-giving love) toward one another (v. 9). But throughout this paragraph, he’s talking about honoring one another sexually. It’s as though he were able prophetically to look down the corridors of time and perceive an overthrow of sexual and interpersonal norms ahead of the coming kingdom. As early as the 14th century, Catholic heretics known as the Cologne Beghards advocated freedom without restraint for the new believer, without regard for the other person, in any kind of relationship (see the discussion in Robert Jewett, The Thessalonian Correspondence: Pauline Rhetoric and Millenarian Piety, 1986). It’s probably unnecessary to mention the ways presumed “breakthrough” Western culture has experienced dramatic shifts in the manner of life outlined and encouraged by the apostle Paul.

…aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands as we directed you to… — 1 Thessalonians 4:11. Another inclination that arises when heads turn heavenward is a disinclination to work. In 1 Thessalonians, Paul cautions people not to go there. By 2 Thessalonians he has to rebuke people for having done that very thing. Have you known people who are so sure that the Lord is returning immediately that they have quit their jobs and moved to the mountains or the beach to wait it out? I have. It’s not pretty. Paul says it is just plain wrong. 

Christ may come very soon. Or there may be a long way to go before he does so. The one thing that Paul makes clear elsewhere is that Christ doesn’t return until there is “fullness of Jew” and “fullness of Gentile”—the “full” number of those who will come to Christ (Romans 11:18,25). That is something only God reckons. Meanwhile, our job—a job that is worth meditating on during Advent, especially— is “becoming more of what we already are” (4:1-2), maintaining healthy and right sexual relationships (4:3–10), and “making it a point of honor” (that’s the Greek behind v. 11’s “aspire” in the NRSV) to work diligently and faithfully at whatever craft or profession or calling the Lord has set before us. 

Be blessed this day, as you pursue God’s will for you: your sanctification! 

Reggie Kidd+

Noonday Prayer

Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 12/3/2020

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 18:1–20; Isaiah 2:12–22; 1 Thessalonians 3:1–13; Luke 20:27–40

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 8 (“The Song of Moses,” Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94)

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Against the deadliest of the deadly sins: pride. For the Lord of hosts has a day against all that is proud and lofty, against all that is lifted up and high … The haughtiness of people shall be humbled, and the pride of everyone shall be brought low; and the Lord alone will be exalted on that day. — Isaiah 2:12,17. 

Pride, say the ancient saints, is the deadliest of the deadly sins. If so, its chief manifestation is idolatry. The atheistic philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach contends that the idea of God is just a projection of the human ego. We worship “Him,” Feuerbach implies, in order to worship ourselves. Idolatry (humanity’s kingdom of self) creates surrogate deities: the sun, the moon, the planets, possessions, magical objects, lovers: all expressions of our exaltation of ourselves. Idolatry says to God, “No thanks. I’ll do it my way.” 

Isaiah says that all this folly will come to a dramatic end. On the day of Yahweh Sabaoth, people will “fling to moles and bats the idols of silver and the idols of gold” that they made for worship (Isaiah 2:20 Jerusalem Bible).

Today’s passage is not Isaiah’s first volley against idolatry, nor will it be his last. As we work our way reading through Isaiah from Advent through Epiphany, we will find the prophet returning to the theme over and over again. 

Isaiah’s fundamental attack is against what lies at the base of all idolatry: our own tendency to be impressed with ourselves—as though we were like lofty trees, majestic mountains, soaring hills, high towers, or expensive baubles (Isaiah 2:13–16). The commentator John Goldingay notes the wordplay that contrasts people’s pretense to prideful majesty (ge’eh) with Yahweh’s actual majesty (ga’on—Isaiah 2:12,19). What Isaiah wants us to do is reevaluate and repent of that which is in us that leads us to worship ourselves: “Turn away from mortals, who have only breath in their nostrils, for of what account are they?” (Isaiah 2:22). 

Against the second deadliest of the deadly sins: sloth. At the opposite end of the spectrum from thepride that leads to idolatry is the sloth that shrugs off the implications of being made in the image and likeness of “the God not of the dead, but of the living” (Luke 20:38). We were made to bear, says the apostle Paul, “an eternal weight of glory” (2 Corinthians 4:17). We are not, by implication, merely to be returned to the dust, nor reduced to ashes, when we die. The Sadducees did not believe life continues after physical death. Jesus expects them, and us, to infer the amazing truth of resurrection from the fact that the God of Israel’s patriarchs continues to be their Lord after their passing from this earthly sphere. 

If it is our eternal destiny to be returned to our bodies, and to outlive even the planets (as resurrection implies), it’s not difficult to see why some might wish to believe otherwise. For them it would be far easier to live this life as though physical death was final, the end of it all. And there would seem to be a certain courageousness, a certain honesty, about such a posture—not to mention, a certain consolation. When it’s over, it’s over, as Peggy Lee sang back in the 60’s: 

Oh, no, not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment,
for I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you,
when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath,
I’ll be saying to myself,

“Is that all there is, is that all there is?
If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing.
Let’s break out the booze and have a ball
If that’s all there is…”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F9pS7iZzNgQ&list=RDF9pS7iZzNgQ&index=1

As the ancient epitaph put it: “I was not. I was. I am not. I will not be. It matters not.” Now as well at then, whether you play it out narcissistically or altruistically, whether dissolutely or chastely … it just doesn’t matter. 

Scripture’s verdict, however, is to the contrary! Scripture’s judgment is that God made us and fashioned us in bodily form so that, in bodily form, we may dwell with him and know him forever. That means, by implication, each and every one of us will literally outlive this earth, in one form or another. As C. S. Lewis put it towards the end of his “Weight of Glory” sermon: “You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.” A Sadducean refusal of what is offered in that eternal destiny is damnably slothful. Scripture’s promise is infinitely, eternally, wonderfully more ennobling.   

This Advent, I pray that we will bask in a fresh realization of all that is promised in Jesus’s incarnation. He comes to humble us and convict us of every tendency to prideful self-worship. He comes, as well, to restore us to our true, fully human selves, and to usher us into an eternity of joyful fellowship with himself and with all the redeemed in a new earth and new heaven. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Midday Eucharist