2021 LENTEN MEDITATIONS
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Week II | Sunday, February 28 - Saturday, March 6
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Sunday, February 28
Eternal God,
in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen. —The Book of Common Prayer, p. 815 |
Monday, March 1
When they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen. But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God...But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him; and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died. —Acts 7:54-60 Acknowledging the enormity of what you have suffered is part of the process of lament. When we name the injuries inflicted upon us, we expose our wounds to God’s healing mercies. Remembering is a difficult aspect of lamenting. On the one hand, those who have lost loved ones to senseless violence demand that we remember their names. On the other hand, retelling the story can bring back all of the painful emotions and unresolved grief. There is no simple way to navigate this process. Holy Scripture does not overlook the details of heinous events, which suggests that there is power in remembering. The ultimate sacrifice was Jesus’ death on the cross for the salvation of the world. But Jesus was not the only innocent person killed for their beliefs. The Acts of the Apostles recounts the rage that was triggered when Stephen accused his listeners of contributing to Jesus’ death. I can only imagine what Stephen’s family felt when they learned of his fate. Families continue to experience shock and pain when a loved one is murdered. Do you have a story of personal loss that you have never shared? Tell your truth to one trusted friend or colleague. There are others who are willing to shoulder this burden with you. —Phoebe Roaf |
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Tuesday, March 2
I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, to give you the land of Canaan, to be your God. —Leviticus 25:38 In Leviticus 25, God calls his people to remember their origin story as slaves brought out of the land of Egypt. However powerful and wealthy they might have become in the centuries since, God insists that the memory of their past as liberated slaves and sojourners in a foreign land should guide how they treat the most vulnerable among them. God ascribes a moral weight to memory. Descendants of exploited slaves have a special obligation to treat laborers fairly. Children of refugees must welcome the stranger. Liberated slaves should not make loans that entrap the poor in the slavery of debt. This is one of the many reasons I am so proud to serve on the board of Episcopal Relief & Development. This ministry helps Episcopalians reconnect with the moral significance of our ancient past and offers all of us ways of living out God’s call to care for the most vulnerable in our midst. What are the stories that help you remember who you are? —Miguel Angel Escobar |
Wednesday, March 3
The Spirit of God is within me. The Spirit of God walks with me. The Spirit of God teaches me about my faith to trust in Jesus to lead me through grief and darkness. Jesus holds my hand. He leadeth me by faith that lights up my path in the harmony way. —God Shil Yi’ash “He Leadeth Me” Navajo Hymns of Faith This is a familiar hymn to elderly Navajo Christians. I remember while growing up in my faith community among elderly Navajo women, they loved to sing this hymn because it was their faith walk with Jesus. Navajo elders are beloved and known for their strength, hope and resiliency. It is through the example of their faith that we remember to walk in faith with God in Jesus for comfort, assurance, guidance and direction. I remember the times when I heard the elderly women share about joys and hardships in our language of Diné. The word spoken was indé—“and yet”—was about hope, faith and trust in the divine guidance. They remembered through their faith, prayers and songs how the Spirit of God taught them to trust in Jesus to lead the way into joy and harmony. I am reminded at this time in Lent, God in the Spirit walks beside us, teaching us to hope, trust and hold to the faith of Jesus. —Cornelia Eaton |
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Thursday, March 4
Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away. —Deuteronomy 6:6-7 I often wonder, are we speaking the truth of our reality? Are we taking advantage of our time together to listen to each other with an open heart? I often wonder. A while ago, I was with two friends having a conversation about the power that words have to define future generations. As the conversation went on, we started putting together a collage of words we’ve heard our parents say as they’ve shared stories about our ancestors. They are of European descent while I am of African descent, but words such as cruelty, darkness and sacrifice were prevalent for the three of us. After processing the conversation, I realized that I could not forget the roots of my truth, nor let my story be lost. I have to continue to name it, talk about it when I’m at home and when I’m away, with everyone I love and with anyone I encounter. Not only to give importance to the lives of those that came before, but to open the door for new and life-giving conversations that will then create a different collage with words such as love, reconciliation and beloved community. —Sandy Milien |
Friday, March 5
Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom. —Luke 23:42 O you tears, O you tears, I am thankful that you run. Though you trickle in the darkness, You shall glitter in the sun. The rainbow cannot shine if the rain refuse to fall; And the eyes that cannot weep are the saddest eyes of all. —Charles Mackay “Tears” (updated) One morning when I was a little boy in Chennai, India, the Dhobi brought laundry that had been washed, pressed and neatly wrapped in old newspaper. He sat on the floor as was customary, given the caste hierarchy. I vividly remember my mother insisting that he sit on the chair. She then served him tea and biscuits. Mom was a social worker who pioneered non-formal education among women in the slums of Chennai. She died in January 2020. I have great memories of her kindness and generosity of spirit, but most importantly, I remember her agency to correct wrongs in society. Mom had a rough life with challenges, but she never lost a sense of who she was and the difference she could make as a child of God. Her sufferings helped hone her capacity for empathy as an educator. Jesus suffered. All of us suffer in small and large ways. Yet some of us become empathetic while others of us become bitter. Jesus modeled how to re-member us. We can become agents who help create slivers of paradise here and now. How can I help re-member my community? —Prince Sing |
Saturday, March 6
But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those
who hate you.
—Luke 6:27
My childhood pastor used to tell us, “You gotta love everybody,
chil’ren, even white people.”
I’ve often reflected on that statement’s simplicity and complexity
in situations where people were hard to love. Surprisingly, the
most difficult times weren’t when I first heard the “N” word, or
the guy who bullied me (until I had enough) or when someone
wronged me. I had the most difficulty loving my enemies when I
never met them like the drug dealers down the street that I fought
but never knew and those we stereotype so we can more easily
label them as racists, liberals, conservatives, black people, white
people, criminals and immigrants. Not knowing them makes
them faceless and easier to demonize and hate.
But how can we love people we don’t know? How can we say
we love everyone but support children of immigrants being
separated from their families, scream obscenities at the police
officer we’ve never met or get our guns ready because the evil
protesters are coming for us? This is fear, not love. We have to do
what it takes to know the “other” so that we can love our enemies.
I remember my pastor saying, “You gotta love everybody, chil’ren,
even, [insert the group you struggle with].” God give us the
strength to know and to love, even our enemies.
—Willie Bennett
But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those
who hate you.
—Luke 6:27
My childhood pastor used to tell us, “You gotta love everybody,
chil’ren, even white people.”
I’ve often reflected on that statement’s simplicity and complexity
in situations where people were hard to love. Surprisingly, the
most difficult times weren’t when I first heard the “N” word, or
the guy who bullied me (until I had enough) or when someone
wronged me. I had the most difficulty loving my enemies when I
never met them like the drug dealers down the street that I fought
but never knew and those we stereotype so we can more easily
label them as racists, liberals, conservatives, black people, white
people, criminals and immigrants. Not knowing them makes
them faceless and easier to demonize and hate.
But how can we love people we don’t know? How can we say
we love everyone but support children of immigrants being
separated from their families, scream obscenities at the police
officer we’ve never met or get our guns ready because the evil
protesters are coming for us? This is fear, not love. We have to do
what it takes to know the “other” so that we can love our enemies.
I remember my pastor saying, “You gotta love everybody, chil’ren,
even, [insert the group you struggle with].” God give us the
strength to know and to love, even our enemies.
—Willie Bennett