At the Last Trumpet - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 4/5/2024 •

Friday in Easter Week 

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum(“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); 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)

Friday in Easter Week. I’m thinking mostly, today, about the day’s psalm: Psalm 136.  

…for his mercy endures forever… (כִּ֖י לְעוֹלָ֣ם חַסְדּֽוֹ  — ki lᵉʿôlām ḥasdo). Psalm 136 sees the whole of cosmic and human history as one occasion after another for the singing of God’s mercy. In creating all things, he shows mercy. … for his mercy endures forever. 

In rescuing Israel and giving them an inheritance, he shows mercy. … for his mercy endures forever!

In remembering the lowly and feeding all creatures, he shows mercy. … for his mercy endures forever!

The psalmist can’t even get from one thought to another without interrupting himself to thank the Lord for the unending mercy. Twenty-six verses of remembrance, twenty-six half-verses of grateful self-interruption. It’s wonderful when this psalm is read in corporate worship as call and response, half-verse by half-verse—and even better when the half-verse refrains are in Hebrew! … for his mercy endures forever! … (כִּ֖י לְעוֹלָ֣ם חַסְדּֽוֹ  — ki lᵉʿôlām ḥasdo).

The heavens and the earth, in their very existence. Not random. Not from nowhere. Not without design or purpose. Not evil, not neutral, but “good.” Expressions of Yahweh’s, and nobody else’s, … for his mercy endures forever!

Image: Adaptation, Pixabay

And a word from Paul …in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet…. (1 Corinthians 15:52). It probably wasn’t the first time I had heard these words, but it was the first time I actually noticed them. It was during a live performance of Handel’s Messiah. The baritone voice, the trumpet accompaniment, the new-old text. The combination was overwhelming, and I’ve never been the same. In the face of death itself we can say: “You don’t win. Christ has beaten you. And I belong to him. No matter when you take me or how you do it, it will only be for a time. I will rise.” “For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible and we shall be changed” (1 Corinthians 15:52).

I pray that whatever you face today you face it in the confidence that somewhere in the hardest part of it there is “mercy that endures forever.” I pray that throughout this day, your theme can be: “But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” Amen. 

Collect for Friday in Easter Week. Almighty Father, who gave your only Son to die for our sins and to rise for our justification: Give us grace so to put away the leaven of malice and wickedness, that we may always serve you in pureness of living and truth; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+

A Guarantee of Something Much Better - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 4/4/2024 •

Thursday in Easter Week 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 146, Psalm 147; Exodus 13:3-10; 1 Corinthians 15:41-50; Matthew 28:16-20

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); 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)

What is sown is perishable,
what is raised is imperishable.
It is sown in dishonor,
it is raised in glory.
It is sown in weakness,
it is raised in power. …
Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust,
we will also bear the image of the man of heaven. — 1 Corinthians 15:42b-43, 49.

None of the people Paul wrote to in Corinth questioned whether Jesus rose from the dead. What some of them didn’t understand was what his rising from the dead meant for them. It had been some twenty years since Jesus’s resurrection, and they had seen plenty of their fellow church members—friends, husbands, wives, parents, children—die. Some in the church had concluded, therefore, that Jesus’s resurrection affected them only in a “spiritual” way. It provided a “ticket” to heaven in the future, and conferred new spiritual powers in the present, like miracles, heavenly languages and/or their interpretations, prophetic powers. But, while Jesus’s own physical rising may have been a powerful metaphor for the “new creation” they felt within themselves, they figured physical death was the end of physical, bodily existence for them.

That led to some unfortunate, even crazy, conclusions about what to do with their bodies in this life. Paul spends most of First Corinthians dealing with these problems. Some Corinthian believers, because they thought their bodies had no connection to being a “new creation” and going to heaven, were sleeping with people they had no business sharing a bed with—one person, with his stepmother; some, apparently, with prostitutes. Others, believing the Holy Spirit in them was holier than, in their way of thinking, their “polluted” bodies, were refusing to have sex with their own spouses. Some thought that Christ’s resurrection meant that they deserved to “grab all they could get” right now, right in this life. So they were using the court system to wrangle financial benefits for themselves, even bringing suit against other followers of Christ. 

To Paul, these Corinthians were acting like entitled, over-privileged “king’s kids.” “Already you have all you want!”, he chides, “Already you have become rich! Quite apart from us you have become kings! Indeed, I wish that you had become kings, so that we might be kings with you!” (1 Corinthians 4:8).

 And, as far as Paul was concerned, the issue was their confusion about what Christ’s resurrection meant for them, not only in the future, but in the now. Their basic problem was failing to see that Christ’s physical resurrection (which they believed in) necessarily also meant physical resurrection for them. If Paul could get the Corinthians straight on that, he could get them to back away from their ethical stupidity. Back in chapter 4 (where the above quote comes from), he had pointed to his own sufferings and weakness as evidence that none of us has yet to receive all the “riches” Christ has won for us or come into the fullness of the “kingly” status Christ confers. All of those promises await resurrection: a new bodily existence, after our physical deaths, when Christ returns for us to raise us up with a glory that is like his. If you let go of that hope, Paul insists, you get yourself into trouble—you become a petulant narcissist, demanding your “best life now.” 

In today’s passage, Paul is asking them to consider the frailness and fragility of their own bodies: perishable, dishonored, weak, “of dust.” And then to dare to believe that what Christ died for was to guarantee them something so much better, even if they couldn’t have it now. That something better was imperishability, honor, strength, a whole new existence when the Holy Spirit gives their bodies—not to mention this entire weary planet—a complete “do over.” Resurrection. Paul wants them to take hold of the vision and truth of the riches, the inheritance, awaiting all followers of Christ. 

Right now is a wonderful time for all of us who have benefited from living in one of the most prosperous nations the world has ever seen, and who have grown accustomed to life’s prospects getting better and better all the time, to realize that appearances are deceiving. The coronavirus has made it abundantly clear that, despite a level of freedom and safety unlike anything the world has previously known, our existence is actually quite tenuous. Apart from Christ, as the rock group Kansas put it a number of years ago, “all we are is dust in the wind.” 

Easter’s glory is that, in the end, we are not dust in the wind. But Easter’s glory is also that, in the meantime, we can live more humbly, more graciously, and more lovingly. As heirs of the resurrection, we belong to each other, and so we can be more attentive to the needs of those around us than to our own needs. 

Collect for Thursday in Easter Week. Almighty and everlasting God, who in the Paschal mystery established the new covenant of reconciliation: Grant that all who have been reborn into the fellowship of Christ’s Body may show forth in their lives what they profess by their faith; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day. 

Reggie Kidd+

The Day of Rescue Becomes Ours - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 4/3/2024 •

Wednesday in Easter Week 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 97; Psalm 99; Exodus 12:40-51; 1 Corinthians 15:29-41; Matthew 28:1-16

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum(“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); 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)

Collect of the Day: Wednesday in Easter Week. O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread: Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

That same night is a vigil to be kept for the Lord by all the Israelites throughout their generations. — Exodus 12:42. Followers of Christ have a profound sense that when we read the Exodus narrative with the Holy Spirit illumining it, we ourselves participate in its events. As Christ himself was present under the figure of the “Angel of the Lord” who demolishes Pharaoh’s army (as we will read next week in Exodus 14), so he is present now as the Risen Victor over sin, Satan, and death. The exodus didn’t happen just to the nation of Israel back then. The new exodus (which the Old Testament anticipated) happens for all those who become sons of Abraham and daughters of Sarah “in Christ.” The vigil of anticipation becomes ours. The day of rescue becomes ours. The responsibility to bear the sign of covenant membership (circumcision in B.C. days, and baptism in days A.D.) prior to enjoying the sacred meal becomes ours. 

Today’s passage in Exodus sends me to prayer:

O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come: Thank you that the time of Israel’s sojourn in Egypt was numbered to the day: “At the end of four hundred and thirty years, on that very day, all the companies of the Lord went out from the land of Egypt” (Exodus 12:41). Thank you that Jesus, bringer of the new exodus, came in the very fullness of time—at just the right time in human history to deliver us from enslavement to sin and death. Thank you that we can know that our days are still in your hands, and that the time of present suffering under the threat of disease and decay will come to an end. In the meantime, hear our prayer, “How long, O Lord?” Amen. 

O God, who turns darkness into day: Thank you that you kept vigil over Israel on the night of their deliverance, and that through the Angel of the Lord, on the one hand, and the Glory Cloud, on the other, you protected them from Pharaoh’s army. Thank you that by your Son and by the Spirit who raised him from the dead, you have won the victory over the Evil One who held us under the fear of death. I pray you give us courage in these days to live in the light of your love and strength. Amen. 

O God, who makes and keeps covenant: Thank you for the amazing mystery of the Holy Week we have just experienced. Thank you for allowing your own dear Son to be cut off from the land of the living—undergoing at the Cross what the apostle Paul calls “the circumcision of Christ” (Colossians 2:11)—so that we who have been buried with him in baptism can number ourselves among those “circumcised with a spiritual circumcision,” and raised with him in newness of life to be welcomed to the banqueting table of your gracious presence. Amen. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Breathe In, Breathe Out - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 4/2/2024 •

Tuesday in Easter Week 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 103; Exodus 12:28-39; 1 Corinthians 15:12-28; Mark 16:9-20

This morning’s Canticles are: before the Psalm reading, Pascha Nostrum(“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); 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)

Collect for Tuesday in Easter Week. O God, who by the glorious resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ destroyed death and brought life and immortality to light: Grant that we, who have been raised with him, may abide in his presence and rejoice in the hope of eternal glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be dominion and praise for ever and ever. Amen.

Image: Adaptation, Pixabay

Our bodies sustain life by a rhythm of breathing in and breathing out. The Daily Office provides a parallel rhythm by which our inner being may sustain life as well. Reading Scripture is the way we breathe in. The combination of worshiping and praying is the way we breathe out. For many years my own morning devotions consisted mostly of reading Scripture to see what I could learn. A lot of breathing in. Discovering the Anglican tradition changed a lot of things for me. One of those was the way I approach morning devotions. I now see the importance of breathing out: of making worship and prayer a part of morning devotions. 

Breathing back praise is as important as breathing in knowledge. During the season of Easter, the Daily Office commends the song Pascha Nostrum (“Christ our Passover”) a collection of verses from Paul’s letters that Thomas Cranmer pieced together in the 1540s. During these seven weeks of Easter (or at least for much of it), we plan to include this song in our Sunday worship in the portion where the Gloria normally appears. And throughout the Easter season, the Daily Office commends reading or singing it at the beginning of morning devotions. 

The Pascha Nostrum is three stanzas long, each stanza focusing on a different aspect of our Easter hope. 

The first stanza consists of 1 Corinthians 5:7-8, bracketed by “Alleluias”:

Alleluia.
Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us; *
therefore let us keep the feast,
Not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, *
but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Alleluia.

As blood from the slain Passover lambs led the angel of death to pass over the houses of the Israelites, so Christ’s shed blood rescues his people from sin and death. For Paul, the unleavened bread of the Jewish Passover comes into sharp focus for those experiencing Christ as their Passover. They start a new life characterized by sincerity and truth, leaving behind an old life marked by slavery to malice and evil. That’s worth at least a couple of “Alleluias.”

The second stanza consists of Romans 6:9-11, and concludes with “Alleluia”: 

Christ being raised from the dead will never die again; *
death no longer has dominion over him.
The death that he died, he died to sin, once for all; *
but the life he lives, he lives to God.

So also consider yourselves dead to sin, *
and alive to God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Alleluia.

There is a staggering likeness between Christ’s death and ours. Because he died once, he can never die again. Because in our baptism we too “die,” death no longer has any claim on us. That’s not just a promise that we are going to heaven. It means that in the very present, we can say to the walking death of a sinful life: “That’s not me anymore.” We can walk—we really can!—“alive to God in Jesus Christ.” And, yes, of course: “Alleluia.”

The third stanza consists of 1 Corinthians 15:20-22, and rounds out the whole song with a final “Alleluia.”

Christ has been raised from the dead, *
the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
For since by a man came death, *
by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die, *
so also in Christ shall all be made alive. Alleluia.

Christ’s followers do not share the world’s despair over there being “no justice in the world.” We believe that when all the chips are called in, the whole problem of human suffering—death, disease, decay, destruction, depression—all of it will have found its resolution in the suffering unto death and victory over death of One Man, Jesus Christ. The one necessary thing, in the end, is to be found to be in him. “Alleluia.” 

“Alleluia.” 

“Alleluia.” 

Enjoy this version by the King’s College Chapel Choir

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZlOIQ-TWToE

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

The Message of Hope We Bring - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Monday • 4/1/2024•

Monday in Easter Week 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 93; Psalm 98; Exodus 12:14-27; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Mark 16:1-8

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Pascha Nostrum (“Christ Our Passover,” BCP, p. 83); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 19 (“The Song of the Redeemed,” Revelation 15:3–4, BCP, p. 94)

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. — Mark 16:1-8. Today’s gospel reading is the so-called “Shorter Ending” of Mark’s Gospel. Most versions of the Bible include a note indicating that verses 9-20 do not appear in our oldest and best manuscripts. They appear to have been added by the later church because people felt that something was missing. 

An original ending to Mark’s gospel, describing Jesus meeting his disciples in Galilee and giving them the Great Commission (as in Matthew), telling them then to wait in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit (as in Luke), or actually breathing God’s Spirit into them (as in John), may indeed have accidentally been lost. 

Or, as a minority of scholars (and I with them) wonder, perhaps Mark knew that his readers knew “the rest of the story” (apologies to Paul Harvey), but also reckoned that they were going to have to find confidence to live “the rest of the story” in dangerous times. After all, Jesus had taught all along that even though he was going to rise from the dead, those who were willing to follow him were going to have to take up their cross, be baptized with a baptism in the likeness of his death, and drink their share of his cup of suffering (Mark 8:31-35; 10:32-40). 

It’s possible Mark ended his gospel this way on purpose to remind readers of their need to decide if they are willing to pay the price of following the resurrected Christ. And, of course, it’s still also possible that it is sheer providence that this is the oldest ending we have, and that the original ending is lost to us. Either way, we are left to decide whether we are going to overcome our own fears and metaphorically meet Jesus “in Galilee,” and receive our own commission to minister in his Name and by the power of his Spirit.  

…when he sees the blood on the lintel and on the two doorposts, the Lord will pass over that door and will not allow the destroyer to enter your houses to strike you down. — Exodus 12:23. 

Mark leaves us with sobering thoughts on an Easter Monday. Hunkering down in homes protected from the angel of death only by blood smeared above and to the sides of the door—that was sobering, too. As was sharing a meal in preparation for a dangerous journey of deliverance.  

Living in dangerous times ourselves—whether because of the current health crisis, and the attending economic rivalries and racial divides it is unmasking; whether because of the acrimonious political climate of our own country and the violent clashes in hot spots around the world—it is good for us to be reminded of the singular message of hope we bring, at whatever cost, to such a world in such times. 

For I handed on to you as of first importance… — 1 Corinthians 15:3. That’s what Paul reminds us of in today’s epistle. This is good news that he says is “of first importance”: Christ died for our sins, and did so according to Scripture. That he was buried (that is, he was genuinely dead), only to be raised from the dead on the third day—again, just as Scripture had promised. That his return from the dead was testified to both by a large number of faithful followers, and by at least one skeptic (his brother James) and by one hardened denier (Paul himself). 

In the face of anything that conspires to replace your confidence with fear, and your faith with despair, I pray the Lord gives you fresh courage this Easter for your journey to meet him “in Galilee” this side of his empty tomb. 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

What Makes Good Friday Good - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 3/29/2024 •

Good Friday

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 22; Lamentations 3:1-9, 19-33; 1 Peter 1:10-20; Mark 10:32-45

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 14 (“A Song of Penitence,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (“A Song to the Lamb,” Revelation 4:11; 5:9–10, 13, BCP, p. 93)

Collect for Good Friday. Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord. Amen.

…before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times. — John 13:38. Today is Good Friday. It’s a day for us to remember Jesus Christ’s death, but also, as Peter’s denial reminds us, of the sins that made his death necessary. These sad words to Peter leave me at a loss for words, because of the many ways I daily deny Jesus myself—in thought, word, and deed.

Image: Adaptation, Pixabay

Today’s passage in Lamentations gives me words to lend hope to my own lament. Today’s passage in 1 Peter reminds me of just what it is that makes Good Friday good.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases…. — Lamentations 3:22. This third chapter of Lamentations depicts Judah/Jerusalem’s sufferings in ways that strikingly anticipate Christ’s Good Friday sufferings. Bearing the rod of God’s wrath, flesh and skin wasting away, sitting in darkness, prayer seeming to be shut out, wormwood and gall. And yet, hope. Such hope that, right in the middle of the agony of suffering, a song breaks out: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, ‘therefore I will hope in him.’”

We know that Psalm 22 was on Jesus’s mind as he hung on Good Friday’s cross. He quoted that song of dual suffering and hope (it begins “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” but pivots to “You answered me. I will declare your name to my brothers and sisters; in the midst of the congregation, I will sing hymns to you” — Psalm 22:1, 21).

Lamentations 3 was there in case he needed it as well. It’s there for us too, when we feel besieged and enveloped by bitterness and tribulation, sitting in darkness feeling like we’re already dead (Lamentations 3:5-6). Right then and right there is when and where to sing: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases….” The dark night of Good Friday’s death broke for Jesus on Easter morning. As a result, death’s dark night breaks for his followers, too.

…the Spirit of Christ…testified in advance to the sufferings destined for Christ and the subsequent glory. — 1 Peter 1:11. Easter prompts me to remember the many Old Testament Scriptures that had pointed to the life and saving work of Jesus Christ long before his appearances on earth. On the Emmaus road after his resurrection, Jesus explained to two disciples “the things about himself in all the scriptures” (Luke 24:27). I’m reminded of how movie directors charm audiences by embedding “Easter eggs” inside their films. You can find Alfred Hitchcock appearances in his films, and Stan Lee in Marvel Comic Universe movies, for example. You’ll find images of Star Wars’ R2-D2 and C-3PO in the hieroglyphics of a pillar in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Look closer, the directors say.

Peter tells us angels have been looking closer for a long time. His sweeping statement about the advance notice of Christ’s suffering and glory in the Old Testament invites us, too, to look and find God’s Easter eggs hidden throughout his Word:

• The Seed who will strike the Serpent’s head, despite suffering a bruised heel (Genesis 3).

• Escape from a storm of judgment in an ark built by the One Righteous Man, with a new start signaled by a rainbow (Genesis 6-9).

• The sparing of a beloved son by the substitution of a ram (Genesis 22).

• A snake lifted up on a tree for the healing of people snake-bit by the power of sin (Numbers 21).  

• After three days and three nights in the belly of “a great fish,” deliverance unto life, and the renewal of a call to prophetic ministry (the whole book of Jonah).

So, despite everything—Judas’s betrayal, Peter’s (and my) denial, the whimsicality and the vitriol of the crowds, the obscene injustice of religious and political authorities—Good Friday is good because it marks the pivot point in the long epic of God’s unspeakable love and unstoppable plan. Because of Good Friday, the song at tomorrow’s Great Vigil can ring out in praise of the God who “casts out pride and hatred, and brings peace and concord,” joining earth and heaven, and God and humankind.

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

The Ongoing Cleansing Work of Jesus - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Thursday • 3/28/2024 •

Maundy Thursday

Today is Maundy Thursday. On the evening of this day, Jesus gives his disciples their mandate — their new commandment — to love one another with the love with which he had loved them. Rather than from the passages in the Daily Office lectionary, I’ll be basing my reflections today on the Gospel passage the lectionary prescribes for this evening’s Maundy Thursday service: John 13:1–17,31b–35, with its description of Jesus’s washing of his disciples’ feet and his issuing of the new commandment.

In his Gospel, John paints this Last Supper as a tableau of multi-layered realities. For example, the Last Supper recalls the wedding in Cana from John 2. That wedding feast is a forecast of the feast of the Lamb, but it is also a place where vessels of water-purification become vessels holding the wine of the blood of sacrifice and the wine of celebration. So, the wedding of Cana becomes a Eucharistic feast. That’s why, when he paints the wedding at Cana, the great Italian artist Giotto puts Eucharistic elements on the table.

John, in fact, has three angles of vision on the Eucharist.
In the first place, this meal “before the Passover feast” remembers our atonement. Remember how John the Apostle recalls John the Baptist saying that Jesus is “the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29). Jesus’s Maundy Thursday dinner with his disciples presupposes Christ as our sacrifice for sin.
In the second place Eucharist, in John’s Gospel, provides nourishment for our journey through this life, for it brings us a manna from heaven. Because, according to John 6, Jesus is the true Bread from Heaven, the true manna, the Eucharistic table is the life-giving resurrection-nourishment that Jesus gives to his people on their wilderness-journey through life.
And then in the third place, the Eucharist makes us a fellowship of love—as we have been loved by Jesus, so we learn to love one another.  Here, where Jesus washes his disciples’ feet, he paints an amazing portrait of his work for us.
One, at this Table on this night, the Lord shows his love: “having loved his own while he was in the world, he loved them to the end.” Thus, he takes off his outer garment and girds himself with the towel of a servant. The foot washing becomes a profound parable of the whole project of incarnation. Nowhere else is the parabola of Jesus’s, stooping low to raise sinners more graphically portrayed. Read John 13 when you have a chance. Bask in it, and then go read Philippians 2 and see if Christ humbling himself with towel and basin isn’t a mini-tableau of the whole redemptive drama. He who was, and is equal with God, humbles himself in the profoundest service to humankind. And then he is exalted to receive the name that is above every name.
Two, during his encounter with Peter at that foot washing, Jesus communicates that the Table is where we get ongoing cleansing. By virtue of our baptism (the whole-body washing we’ve had before we ever get to the Table), we are clean. Really! Clean—not dirty, not unworthy to be there! But walking the streets of this life, our feet get dirty—ugly sin clings to us despite our best efforts. And so, Jesus’s washing of the disciples’ feet becomes a compelling picture of our need for his ongoing ministry.

Jesus says to us what he says to Peter: “If I do not wash you[r feet], you have no share with me…. The one who has bathed needs only to wash his feet, but is completely clean. And you disciples are clean…” (John 13:8b,10a). Jesus renews us daily. And he cleanses us daily. So, like Peter, who comes to the meal already bathed, we have been completely washed in our baptism and therefore we don’t ever need to be baptized again—still, we get our feet dirty, and as humiliating as it is, we need to admit that hard truth and accept the ongoing cleansing work of Jesus through the Holy Spirit … week after week as we come to the table.

The thing is we remain sinners throughout this earthly pilgrimage—in need always of grace. In need, therefore, for our baptism to be renewed over and over and over again. We do this in part by thankfully contemplating the benefits of our baptism … by humbly confessing the ways that we walk contrary to our baptism … by worshipfully endeavoring to yield to the Spirit’s, ongoing work to transform us into the image of Christ—and by coming to this table to let the Lord wash our feet with his ongoing, forgiving love.

Three, the table’s where we learn to love one another.

So Jesus gets up from this table, and says, as I’ve done for you, you’re to do this for one another. A new commandment I give to you that you love one another. And that’s how the world will know you’re my disciples. And then after chapters, 14, 15, and 16 of teaching, he prays in chapter 17: “Father make them one as you and I are one that the world may know that I am in you and you are in me. May the world see our love for one another and their love for one another.”

And it’s interesting to see how for Paul, washing the feet of the saints becomes shorthand for a lifestyle of meeting the needs of others. Think of 1 Timothy 5 verse 10, when Paul lists qualifications for what he calls “enrolled widows.” The phrase “washing the feet of the saints” stands between “receiving strangers” and “relieving the afflicted.” Now, the objects of service are different: strangers, saints and the afflicted, but the same attitude is expressed to all. A spirit of humble self-giving. And that’s part of what we learn at this table.

I can’t think of a more fitting close to a Maundy Thursday meditation than the prayer attributed to St. Francis. In a world of conflict and self-aggrandizement, may we become an army of Franciscan peacemakers and foot washers and servants of the Master:

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. 

Where there is hatred, let us sow love; 

where there is injury, pardon; 

where there is discord, union; 

where there is doubt, faith; 

where there is despair, hope; 

where there is darkness, light; 

where there is sadness, joy. 

Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; 

to be understood as to understand; 

to be loved as to love. 

For it is in giving that we receive; 

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; 

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

The Long Story of Redemption - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Wednesday • 3/27/2024 •

Wednesday of Holy Week

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 55; Lamentations 2:1-9; 2 Corinthians 1:23–2:11; Mark 12:1-11

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 14 (“A Song of Penitence,” BCP, p. 90); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 16 (“The Song of Zechariah,” Luke 1:68-79, BCP, p. 92)

Collect for Wednesday in Holy Week. Lord God, whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be whipped and his face to be spit upon: Give us grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time, confident of the glory that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Had I come upon this cluster of passages at any other time than Holy Week, my reflections might have gone in a different direction. But here we are, in the middle of this Week of weeks.

…had it been an enemy who vaunted himself against me, … But it was you, a man after my own heart, my companion, my own familiar friend. — Psalm 55:13,14. During this week, who cannot not read about King David bemoaning being betrayed by a friend, and not think of the Friend of Sinners who is turned on by one of his closest friends, Judas Iscariot (a “familiar” enough “friend” to have been entrusted with the moneybox!)? Just to think about Jesus “loving his own to the end” so much that he would stoop to wash their feet, knowing that one of those whose feet he was washing was just waiting for his chance to slip out into the night to ready a fateful kiss: “So, after receiving the piece of bread [Judas], immediately went out. And it was night.” (See John 13, especially, verse 30).

 The thought stings. It stings when I ask what kind of friend I am—to Him, and to those who count me friend. Lord, have mercy.

 The Lord has become like an enemy… — Lamentations 2:5. In the first chapter, Lamentations portrays Jerusalem/Judah violated & kicked to the side of the road. It is a pathetic, pitiable sight. In the second chapter, Lamentations turns to a different subject: God. The picture is jarring. Yahweh has “bent his bow like an enemy, with his right hand set like a foe… he has poured out his fury … he has demolished without pity” (2:4,17). He “withdraws his right hand from” his people because of emotions that are difficult for us to accept: he is angry, merciless, wrathful, burning like a flaming fire, furious, fiercely indignant, scornful. (See the cascading terms in verses 1-4, 6-7.)   I wanted to avert my eyes in chapter one. I want to close my ears in chapter two. This is supposed to be the loving, rescuing, redeemer God, right? Instead, this sounds like the “fire and brimstone” God of caricature that keeps people away from church—like a cosmic tantrum-throwing, petulant child, who’s had a toy taken away.

 But then … if God isn’t at war with that within us which is at odds with him, we are lost. The long story of redemption is one of God’s implacable enmity towards the sin that destroys us. That’s what I need to see when I behold the bloody mess of this Holy Week’s cross.

 “The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone…” — Mark 12:10. Thus, there is so much packed into Jesus’s quote of Psalm 118. The One “whipped and his face…spit upon,” as today’s Collect puts it, is God-in-flesh, absorbing the wrath his “enemies” deserve, so that, by some mysterious divine reckoning, God-in-heaven reconciles us to Himself, and counts us friends (Romans 5:10). Christ, have mercy.

 But if anyone has caused pain, he has caused it not to me, but to some extent—not to exaggerate it—to all of you. … [Now]…you should forgive and console him, so that he may not be overwhelmed by excessive sorrow. So I urge you to reaffirm your love for him. — 2 Corinthians 1:5,7. Somebody in Corinth had caused a crisis in the church. The congregation has dealt with it to Paul’s satisfaction, and the person has repented. Some, though, are not ready to let it go. Paul says: I’ve forgiven him, so you need to as well. In Christ, we have been reconciled, so we become reconcilers. Forgiven, we become forgivers.

 Hard times expose us to the best and the worst in each other. Irritations mount when the world feels like the movie set for a surreal horror flick.

 All of which makes the days we are living through an especially important time to tune in to each other’s emotional well-being, and to be, as James puts it, “quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger” (James 1:19). To be especially ready to extend forgiveness and to ask: Lord, have mercy.

 Be blessed this day,

 Reggie Kidd+

Hope-Tinged Grace & Beauty - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Tuesday • 3/26/2024 •

Year 2, Holy Week

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 6; Psalm 12; Lamentations 1:17-22; 2 Corinthians 1:8-22; Mark 11:27-33

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)

Collect for Tuesday in Holy Week. O God, by the passion of your blessed Son you made an instrument of shameful death to be for us the means of life: Grant us so to glory in the cross of Christ, that we may gladly suffer shame and loss for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Without sugar-coating reality, the Bible carries about it an irrepressible hopefulness, a stubborn hold on a sense that glory and goodness will finally prevail, no matter what. The ugliness of judgment is always pregnant with the promise of redemption. Suffering inspires the singer. Punishment prompts the poet.

The book of Lamentations begins with four chapters of acrostics, each verse or stanza beginning with successive letters of the 22-letter Hebrew alphabet (chapter 3 is a triple acrostic, so it’s 66 verses long). The last chapter (chapter 5), though not an acrostic, has the same number of verses as the Hebrew alphabet.

Judgment, in other words, runs from “A to Z.” Judgment has a beginning. But it also has an end, as we will see in Good Friday’s reading. In the very center of Lamentations (in Hebrew poetry, the center is often the “crown” of the poem) we find this: “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end… Although he causes grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict or grieve anyone” (Lamentations 3:22-33).

 On the torturous journey to “the steadfast love,” today’s verses from Lamentations acknowledge the guilt of sin and they bemoan the shame that attends sin’s guilt: “Jerusalem sinned grievously, and so she has become a mockery; all who honored her despise her, for they have seen her nakedness” (Lamentations 1:8).

 As if in answer, the BCP’s Collect for the Day points us to the cross, “an instrument of shameful death” that God made “the means of life.”

 The shamefulness of Christ’s death on the cross lay, in the first place, in the fact that Jesus had been spurned by his own nation, and then had been turned over to pagan Romans for a degrading non-Jewish execution. Deprived even of the benefit of a “good” Jewish stoning or even a “dignified” Roman beheading, Jesus was given over to what Scripture had always thought of as a repugnant, cursed death for infidels: hanging on a tree (see Deuteronomy 21:23).

 The humiliation of Christ’s execution lay, in the second place, and almost in fulfillment of Jeremiah’s lament that Jerusalem’s mockers “have seen her nakedness,” in the fact that Jesus, according to Roman custom, would have been crucified naked. Victims of what Cicero called “the unlucky tree” were stripped, and then nailed or tied to crosses prominently displayed in public places.

 Even into the 4th century, Christians in Jerusalem would remember “the nakedness of Christ on the cross, who in his nakedness ‘disarmed the principalities and powers, and openly triumphed over them on the tree’” (Cyril, Bishop of Jerusalem, Mystagogy 2). The marvel is that such shame worked such grace, such rejection effected such fellowship, and such a curse won such blessing.

 2 Corinthians. We were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death so that we would rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead — 2 Corinthians 1:8b-9. You can see Christ’s triumph in Paul’s life, when he talks about being “unbearably crushed” and having “received the sentence of death,” yet relying on “God who raises the dead.”

 You can see that same triumph in the likes of the 72-year-old Italian priest, Don Giuseppe Berardelli, who, stricken with the coronavirus, maintained his greeting to everyone, “Pace e bene,” and then when it came time for him to go on a ventilator, insisted it go to another. “Pace e bene,” indeed: the eternal “peace and well-being” Jesus has secured through his death and resurrection.

 In the days ahead, Lord willing, your “sentence of death” will take a lesser form. Whatever we face, I pray that you and I, like Jeremiah of Lamentations, can bring a hope-tinged grace and beauty to the ugliness of the day. I pray that you and I, like the Apostle Paul and Father Berardelli, will discover the glory of Christ’s cross, and count our own share in its “shame and loss” as something gladly to be borne.  

 Be blessed this day,

 Reggie Kidd+

How Long, O Lord? - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Year 2, Holy Week, Monday • 3/25/2024

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 51; Lamentations 1:1-12; 2 Corinthians 1:1-7; Mark 11:12-25

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)

Collect for Monday in Holy Week. Almighty God, whose dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP, p. 220)

Image: From Moleskine, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

How lonely sits the city that once was full of people — Lamentations 1:1. This first chapter of the book of Lamentations is one of the most gruesome in all of Scripture. The “weeping prophet” Jeremiah (by tradition, the author of Lamentations) looks out over a city he loves, left desolate in the wake of the Babylonian destruction of 586 B.C.—like a bombed-out Dresden or Hiroshima or Aleppo or Mariupol. Jeremiah imagines Judah/Jerusalem as though she had been bride to a husband, Yahweh, who now is dead to her: “How like a widow she has become.” Worse, she had given herself to false lovers who had failed to care for and protect her. And now she has been violated by despoilers (“she has seen the nations invade her sanctuary”), only to be promptly tossed aside (“her uncleanness was in her skirts”—Lamentations 1:9,10). It’s among the ugliest scenes Scripture ever describes. I find it hard to take.

But the writer of Lamentations, whether the “weeping prophet” Jeremiah as tradition holds, or an anonymous poet worthy of the attribution, does what only a great artist can do: create haunting beauty from something grotesque. Picasso’s Guernica, a visual lament of the 1937 Nazi and Fascist bombing of that Basque town during the Spanish Civil War, is just such a piece. Guernica wrenches the cry, “How long, O Lord?”, from deep in my soul.

 Just so, the book of Lamentations, one of the most beautifully crafted series of poems in all of Scripture (I’ll describe its overall architecture tomorrow), provides some of the most exquisite language for bringing to God our anguish and grief over human suffering.

 Today’s Lamentations reading ends with a verse that has inspired one of the most powerful choral pieces I’ve had the privilege to sing, Z. Randall Stroope’s “O Vos Omnes,” a Latin rendering of Lamentations 1:12:

 O vos omnes (O you people),

Qui transitis per viam (Who pass this way),

Attendite et videte (Look and see)

Si est dolor (If there is any sorrow),

Sicut dolor meus (Like my sorrow).

Recordare Domine (Remember, Lord),

Intuere et respice (Consider and notice)

Opprobrium nostrum (Our humiliation).

 Here’s a YouTube link to a recording of Stroope conducting Canticum Novum, with visuals from Auguste Rodin’s “The Burghers of Calais” (commemorating the Hundred Years’ War)

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjPeqih9fxc

The book of Lamentations presents one of the many ways that the Old Testament anticipates the desolation of abandonment that Jesus would endure for us on the cross. Holy Week is an extended invitation to embrace what today’s collect calls “the way of the cross.” Whatever form “the way of the cross” takes for you this day and this week—especially if you are wondering, like Jeremiah, “if there is any sorrow like my sorrow”—, I pray you embrace that “way” with both honesty and courage. I pray that you find it indeed “none other than the way of life and peace, through Jesus Christ.”

 Be blessed this day,

 Reggie Kidd+

Hard Times - Daily Devotions with the Dean

Friday • 3/22/2024 •
Friday of 5 Lent, Year Two 

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 22; Exodus 9:13-35; 2 Corinthians 4:1-12 (plus tomorrow’s 4:13–18); Mark 10:32-45 

This morning’s Canticles are: following the OT reading, Canticle 14 (Song of Moses, Exodus 15, BCP, p. 85); following the Epistle reading, Canticle 18 (Revelation 4:11; 5:9-10, 13, BCP, p. 94) 

Welcome to Daily Office Devotions, where every Monday through Friday we bring to our lives that day’s Scripture readings, as given in the Book of Common Prayer. I’m Reggie Kidd, and I’m grateful to be with you this Friday of the fifth week of Lent, as we prepare for Holy Week.   

In our church we begin each Lenten season with the Great Litany. In that prayer we cry out: “From lightning and tempest, from earthquake, fire, and flood; from plague, pestilence. and famine, Good Lord deliver us. From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared, Good Lord, deliver us” (BCP, p. 149). Today’s readings provide an exceptional wrap to Lent.  

Exodus: Plagues 6 and 7: Boils & Hail. The plagues against Egypt become more severe. The plague of hail is the first of the plagues to threaten human life. But then, just as the threat accelerates, so does God’s counsel to provide and to seek shelter (Exodus 9:19-21). An offer of mercy during judgment, shelter in the storm.  

Lord of heaven and earth, when storms sweep our world—whether they are storms of sickness or of conflict or of natural disaster—may they quickly pass. Protect those who provide what shelter they can. Have mercy, Lord, and spare lives. Soften and transform hearts that have been hardened into indifference to your presence. Reclaim hearts that have drifted into inattention to your care for them. Good Lord, deliver us.  

Psalm 22 anticipates, by a thousand years, Jesus descending into the abyss of abandonment to death (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”), so he could rise to lead the praise of the God who rescues those “that fear him … the poor in their poverty … those who worship him … all the families of the earth … all who go down to the dust … [and] … a people yet unborn” (Psalm 22:1, 22, 23, 24, 26, 28, 30). What a powerful prelude to Holy Week!  

Lord Jesus, Friend to sufferers, there’s no pain we’ve felt that you have not felt, no fear that’s unfamiliar to you, no loss that has not touched you. Please be near to all those for whom you have given your life in agony and rejection. Please strengthen especially those who feel most abandoned and forgotten. Remind them that you are there: a very present help in time of trouble. Good Lord, deliver us.   

Thus, it makes sense that in Mark 10, as Jesus heads for Jerusalem and Holy Week, he makes it crystal clear to his followers that the kind of power he embodies and is preparing to release into the world through his death and resurrection is not available to the ambitious, the proud, and the self-promoting: “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:42–44). 

Hard times — when there are “boils” and “hail” aplenty — are a great equalizer. You may have been important in the “before times,” or you may have been unimportant. You may have had a voice, or not. We can take Jesus at his word: neither our pretensions nor our inadequacies were ever in the least relevant. All that matters is the generous heart of the One who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).  

Lord Jesus, Son of Man, show me this heart. Make me glad in the service of the One who gave his life a ransom. In your mercy, Lord, hear our prayer.  

2 Corinthians 4: apt words to close out Lent. The apostle Paul marvels at the way God places the light of knowing him in the hearts of his people. We are as frail and fragile, and as broken, as clay lanterns that have been put back together with semi-transparent glue. God lets his light shine out all the brighter through the cracks: “For it is the God who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us” (2 Corinthians 4:6–7). 

“We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus” — 2 Corinthians 4:14. What’s at stake in the question of whether on that first Easter Sunday Jesus actually, literally, bodily rose from the dead isn’t just the truthfulness of the Apostles’ claims that he did so. (Not that truthfulness isn’t important for its own sake. It is.) More critical than the bare fact of Jesus’s resurrection, though, is its meaning. Because the Father raised Jesus from the dead, insists Paul, he “will raise us also with Jesus.” If Jesus rose, we will rise. Really. If he didn’t, we won’t either—at death we’re done (at best).  

“Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day” — 2 Corinthians 4:16. Believing that Jesus’s resurrection is sure, and that your own resurrection is secure—such believing brings an equilibrium that can face the inevitable: “wasting away.” Sometimes that “wasting away” is a long and graceful glide. Sometimes it’s an abrupt and ugly crash. Sometimes it’s a protracted and brutal deterioration. Regardless, it can be faced with equipoise and peace.  

I’ve been in ministry long enough to have seen too many people so desperately pinning their hopes on the preservation of this physical body that, when faced with news of terminal disease, they spent their remaining months, weeks, or days, in denial of what was happening to them. Claiming a “healing” that wasn’t going to come, they became distant from the God they thought they must be disappointing because of a lack of faith. They deprived themselves of the opportunity to experience what Paul describes here: “our inner nature is being renewed day by day” (2 Corinthians 4:16). Good Lord, deliver us.  

“We do not lose heart…because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal” — 2 Corinthians 4:16, 18. I’ve known others who knew where they were going, and were thus able to entrust themselves to the Lord who knew the way.  

When the transitory nature of this life hits you in the face like a two-by-four, you can’t help but stop, and go, “What just happened?” The gift of that jolt can be the dawning recognition of a singular grace: the opportunity to pay attention to, and to nurture, the inner self through cultivating friendship with God.  

I suppose that’s why it’s become so important to me to begin the day with the Daily Office’s Scriptures, Canticles, and Prayers—sometimes basking in them, sometimes puzzling over them, sometimes letting them flow over me. Writing devotions like these, then, is part of what reminds me of the difference between what is merely temporary and what is eternal.  

If this Lenten season has reminded you just how frail you are, how tentative all your plans have to be, how impossible it is to place all your hopes in this life, I pray you find something being “renewed day by day” deep within you: the abiding sense that “this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory…” (2 Corinthians 3:17).  

God of Light, you who make your light to shine in the darkest of places, shine the light of your glory through the cracks of our frailty. Perfect your strength in our weakness, and give all our brothers and sisters a joy this Easter that comes in the very midst of trials and tribulations. In your mercy, Lord, hear our prayer. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+