2021 LENTEN MEDITATIONS

If you would like to have a downloaded and/or printed copy of the complete devotion book, you can do so by clicking on the button below.

Download Here

If you would like to have the daily devotion emailed to you each day from Episcopal Relief & Development, you can do so by clicking the button below.

Subscribe Here

---

---

Week I | Wednesday, February 17 - Saturday, February 27

---

​Ash Wednesday, February 17
That same day Pharaoh commanded the taskmasters of the
people, as well as their supervisors, “You shall no longer give the
people straw to make bricks, as before; let them go and gather
straw for themselves. But you shall require of them the same
quantity of bricks as they have made previously; do not diminish
it, for they are lazy; that is why they cry, ‘Let us go and offer
sacrifice to our God.’ Let heavier work be laid on them; then they
will labor at it and pay no attention to deceptive words.”
—Exodus 5:6-9
Rest is the first phase of lament. Until we step back from the
demands of our daily routine to rest and reflect, it is challenging
to process difficult events. We struggle to find meaning in the
midst of the COVID-19 pandemic a year after it began. Some
individuals had the option of working from home. However, not
everyone was afforded this luxury. Plenty of people traveled to
work, including first responders and medical personnel, grocery
store stockers and gas station clerks. The demands placed upon
these essential workers increased during the pandemic. Like the
Israelites who labored as enslaved persons during Pharaoh’s
reign, our essential workers had to do more with less. They were
required to make bricks without straw.
What does lament look like when you are too exhausted to rest?
How can those who enjoy the privilege of determining our work
conditions support our neighbors who have few options? Prayer
is certainly part of this equation, and yet our baptismal covenant
calls us to do much more than pray. During Lent, commit to a
weekly act of kindness for essential workers in your community.
—Phoebe Roaf

Thursday, February 18
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is
made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly
of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.
—2 Corinthians 12:9

Our world was turned upside down when our eight-year-old
daughter was diagnosed with leukemia. The next day we were in
the hospital for treatment.
She was scared, and in so much pain, I had to help her use the
bedside commode. Afterward, she asked with tears in her eyes,
“How am I going to do this?” I was at a loss for words. My mind
was racing, thinking about years of treatment, medications and
hospital visits, and filled with overwhelming fear for my daughter.
I said a quick prayer, and a song came to my mind. It was the
old Patsy Cline country-gospel version of “One Day at a Time.” I
always made fun of Patsy Cline’s singing but had not thought of it
in thirty years. I told my daughter, “We’ll get through this one day
at a time.” That calmed her, and it also calmed me. It seemed to
slow things down. “One day at a time” became the theme for her
as we all focused on beating the cancer day by day, not getting
ahead of ourselves because that would be too much.
We found rest and renewal in God’s grace as his grace proved to
be sufficient.
—Willie Bennett

Friday, February 19
The quest is nurture. It is humility. It is not a test of how strong
and brave a person can be, but rather, how vulnerable she or he
can be.
—Steven Charleston
The Four Vision Quests of Jesus
Resting can mean a time of relaxing or a time of quiet for
metamorphosis, quiet to hear the still small voice of God, quiet
to allow the Holy Spirit in, quiet to allow for transformation. In
my Lakota culture and others, when we need guidance, right relationship
and to lament, we Hanbleciya (cry for a vision).
Traditionally, we would go “sit on the hill” by ourselves, fasting
and praying. It is a time for reflection, vulnerability and finding our
way back into right-relationship with the Creator, with creation
and with ourselves.
In the past year, we have all experienced grief, loss and pain. We
are left questioning many things. For some, that has included
our faith and our God. Yet sometimes in our deepest sorrow,
in what we think is our lowest point, in that messy, ugly-crying
space, the Holy Spirit can transform us. This is the time to cry
for a vision. This is the time to fast, pray and find our way back
into right-relationship. This is the time to listen for God and be
transformed.
It is difficult to hear God when I’m too busy to pray or think. If my
mind is occupied with Facebook or Twitter and my heart with
fear or anxiety, where is the room for God’s love, messages and
gifts to fit? Your prayer space need not be a church or a quiet
place. I often feel God’s presence and voice while listening to
music or going for a walk. While God can speak to us anywhere,
think about creating time and space to hear her.
—Isaiah “Shaneequa” Brokenleg

Saturday, February 20
I find rest in God.
—Paraphrase of Psalm 62:1

​When I was a teacher, I used to tell everyone that Saturday was
my day to sleep late. Every other day, I had to wake up before 7
a.m. So, on Saturdays, I would make sure my room was super
dark, and my son knew not to wake me up unless there was an
emergency.
I wish I could still do that. I wish I could go into my room, make
everything dark, turn everything off and rest. But, probably like
many of you, I can’t. Not now. Not during the pandemic. Not with
the weight of survival on my back. Not with video after video of
my murdered siblings. Not with my brown son driving without
me. Not with yet another trailblazer passing on.
These days, as the whole country seems dark with killings,
continuing deaths from the pandemic and never-ending racial
injustice and fear, I do believe there is a spark waiting to get my
fire going. I do believe that spark is God. And, I do believe God
continues to help me rest even when my whole body is on alert.
—Sandra T. Montes

Sunday, February 21

​O God of grace and glory,
we remember before you this day all
those who have died in the past year.
We thank you for giving them to us,
their family and friends, to know
and to love as companions on our
earthly pilgrimage. In your boundless
compassion, console us who mourn.
Give us faith to see in death the gate of
eternal life, so that in quiet confidence
we may continue our course on earth,
until, by your call, we are reunited with
those who have gone before; through
Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
—The Book of Common Prayer, p. 493

Monday, February 22
They stood still, looking sad.
—Luke 24:17b
Growing up in South India, I noticed how hard some communities
worked and how invisible they still were. One such was a subset
of the Dalits—formerly known as “untouchables”—often referred
to as Safai Karmachari, a community of manual scavengers.
They cleaned latrines in cities and rural communities. For my
doctoral research, I interviewed Ramakka on August 9, 2002.
She was fifty-two and had been a manual scavenger since she
was fifteen. It was disgusting work—cleaning other people’s
excreta, collecting them in baskets and carrying these loads on
her head—work she had done since her childhood days.
I used to think that rest was about the restoration of lost strength.
For millions of people around the world, like Ramakka, rest is a
restoration of lost dignity. That realization is their rest, their pause
and their inner hope. Luke tells us of the two disciples on the
road to Emmaus, troubled by the execution of Jesus. They stood
still, looking sad when the risen Christ intervened. They paused
to assess their sorrow and were clearly irritated by the stranger.
Yet this story reminds us that a curious stranger noticing and
asking a question can help to initiate rest amid the normalized
malaise of dehumanization.
During the pandemic’s imposed pause on our lives, we noticed a
few things: that the coronavirus impacts Latino, Black and Native
communities disproportionately; that we have treated African
Americans as less than human; and that the earth rested. Out of
our rest, stillness and lament, will we rise as a gentler and more
just humankind?
—Prince Singh

Tuesday, February 23
And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.
—Mark 6:32
Taking pause in our spiritual journey is life-giving. Jesus
understands this need for a pause in our lives to move us into
a time of rest and meditation. Jesus shows us in Matthew how
we may reflect, pray and draw strength from the One who is all knowing
and all-powerful in the way of the cross. Jesus goes
to God for divine strength in his sacred heart, that special quiet
place where he and God meet intimately. Jesus, in his knowing,
takes his disciples to a deserted place by themselves to rest for
a little while, where God might enter through their powerlessness
and renew them with God’s strength.
My experience of rest has been in the outdoors, listening among
the trees, plants and waters. I seek strength from God in these
moments of rest. I experience my powerlessness. I am shown
humility. When our bodies are exhausted from the stresses of
life’s terms, the Divine Spirit reminds us that we, too, need to
take pause in our spiritual journey to divert to a lonely place and
rest. Jesus is eternally present, ready to hear and listen to our
sacred hearts comforted by words of harmony, Hozhó—Peace be
with you.
—Cornelia Eaton

Wednesday, February 24
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to
a deserted place by himself.
—Matthew 14:13a
In late summer, my husband and I went hiking in Harriman State
Park in New York. It was a brief escape from New York City after
many months of being trapped in our one-bedroom apartment
as a result of COVID-19. Within ten minutes of walking in the
woods, my cell phone service went out, and I suddenly realized I
was more disconnected from the outside world than I had been
in months. No more texts; no more news alerts; no more emails.
For a full hour, it was just footsteps in the woods until we arrived
at a clear blue lake.
When Jesus heard of John the Baptist’s violent and unjust death
at the hands of Herod, his response was to withdraw in a boat to
a deserted place by himself. I find comfort in the fact that even
Jesus had to step away to take in the full scope of John’s tragic
death and all that it might mean.
On that lakeside, sitting in the shade of a tall pine tree, I thought
about the violence and tragedy that we had briefly left behind:
the morgue trucks outside the hospitals; the sudden increase
in desperation and homelessness in our neighborhood; and
murderous police brutality. It was a moment of holy respite that
allowed us to return and recommit to building a more just future.
—Miguel Angel Escobar

Thursday, February 25
For God alone my soul in silence waits;
from him comes my salvation.
—Psalm 62:1
When I was a little girl, there were very few moments of silence
around me. In our Dominican and Haitian household, space was
always filled with loud conversations, church services, colorful
music and the sounds of moto-taxis passing by. Now fast forward
to 2021: silence, unrest and uncertainty surround me.
So, I cry out; I cry out to the Lord in despair, pleading that neither
the silent pandemic nor the loud and unjustified hatred towards
my people ends up hurting or taking away those I love the most.
Yet, during these trying times, I find myself needing to use that
same silence to recharge, to pause and to actively figure out the
best way to heal from all this hurt and uncertainty. And although
it’s challenging to live with the fear of loss, I faithfully wait for
God’s promise of salvation, but I no longer wait alone. I’ve found
a community of loving, resilient and dedicated people who have
shown me that united in bonds of love, we will continue to walk
forward together.
—Sandy Milien

Friday, February 26
You will not let my eyelids close;
I am troubled and I cannot speak.
—Psalm 77:4
Nothing may be one of the best things you can do. One day every
week. Do nothing. —greensabbathproject.net
In a class on practicing a green sabbath (a sabbath that reduces
our carbon emissions), my classmate pondered, “How can I take
rest when there are those who cannot?” I pondered in return,
“How can we not take rest? We need the energy for others.” We
agreed with each other: we cannot take our rest for granted.
Throughout this harrowing pandemic, my colleagues and I led
virtual trainings about maintaining personal resilience in a time of
disaster. Often these trainings come at the invitation of a bishop
who is trying to get staff and clergy to rest. In the training, we talk
about the consequences of not resting; we can lose our minds,
our faith or even our lives. While the option to rest is a privilege, if
we give this one up, there can be serious consequences.
This past summer I had a lot of guilt about not going into the
streets to protest racial injustice. But the truth is I am tired. I am
weary because of the compounding harm of multiple traumas
from pandemic to racial injustice. Therefore, I had to prioritize
my health. So, I got into a car with my good friend for a day trip
to my spiritual home, Nelson Pond in New Hampshire. As I sat
on the familiar rock, breathing fresh air, the rejuvenating spirit of
God blessed me. I looked around and reconnected with God’s
creation, and indeed, it is very good.
In what way are you able to rejuvenate your spirit today?
—Tamara Plummer

Saturday, February 27
I lie down in peace; at once I fall asleep;
for only you, Lord, make me dwell in safety.
—Psalm 4:8
It may seem out of place to be talking about rest. We live in
troubled and hurried times. Everyone has been forced to change
their routine. The number of people suffering from sleep disorders
and insomnia is on the rise; others can sleep, but their minds find
no rest. Yet resting is vital for our physical, mental and spiritual
health. Spiritual health requires spending quality time resting
and meditating.
Let’s go back to the ninth century bce. In the midst of a crisis, King
David expressed his total trust in God. At the time, he felt unjustly
persecuted and slandered, so he cried out with hope that God
would intervene. In response, he received peace “that surpasses
all understanding.” This made him forget his life’s tragedies. He
slept in divine calm—a peace that no commotion could interrupt.
Today I’m inviting you to offer your thoughts to God and to rest in
God so that you may receive that same peace in your body, mind
and spirit. “For only you, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” All those
who put their faith and hope in God will dwell in safety!
—Patricia Martin