Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 103; Psalm 148; Genesis 17:1–12a,15–16; Colossians 2:6–12; John 16:23b–30

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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Feast of the Holy Name. 

In the Christian Year, the first day of the calendar year is the Feast of the Holy Name. This feast falls on the eighth day of Christmas, in recognition of the fact that, as Luke records, “After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb” (Luke 2:15). 

It is Matthew who explains why the baby is to be given that particular name: “…for he will save his people from their sins” (Matthew 1:21 — the Hebrew Yeshua means “Yah saves!”). The cutting of his foreskin in this eighth day ceremony symbolizes how it is that Jesus is going to save us from our sins.  

Three decades later, Paul explains how the one “in whom the fullness of deity dwells bodily” experienced a second circumcision. Paul calls Jesus’s being nailed to the cross “the circumcision of Christ” (Colossians 2:11). On the cross, Jesus’s whole being—not just a tiny piece of his flesh—is cut off from the land of the living. His death brings pardon for us, and his resurrection brings, right now, life from spiritual death for us, and, at his return, resurrection from physical death. And this amazing gift is precisely in line with what Isaiah had prophesied: “For he was cut off from the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people. … When you make his life an offering for sin, he shall see his offspring, and shall prolong his days …”(Isaiah 53:8,10).

The wonderful thing is that “the circumcision of Christ”—his being “cut off from the land of the living”—becomes our circumcision when we are plunged beneath the symbolically drowning waters of baptism: “In him also you were circumcised with a spiritual circumcision … when you were buried with him in baptism, you were also raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead” (Colossians 2:11–12). 

In celebrating the Holy Name of Jesus, we also celebrate his naming us anew. Because he has saved us from our sins, we are no longer “Sinner,” but “Saint” (1 Corinthians 1:2)! No longer “Polluted,” but “Washed” (1 Corinthians 6:11)! No longer “Destined-for-the-Scrap-Heap,” but “Treasured” (Deuteronomy 7:6)!  The Vineyard Ministries song writer D. Butler put it magnificently in these lyrics, and rendered here by the Nesbitt family:

I will change your name.
You shall no longer be called:
Wounded, Outcast, Lonely, or Afraid

I will change your name.
Your new name shall be:
Confidence, Joyfulness, Overcoming One,
Faithfulness, Friend of God, One who seeks my face. 

The whole thought is consistent with the renaming that takes place when God first gives the gift of circumcision in Genesis 17. There are new names and new identities for Abram who becomes Abraham, and for Sarai who becomes Sarah. His name will no longer mean simply “Exalted Father,” but “Father of a Multitude.” Hers will no longer mean (perhaps) “Mockery,” but “Princess.” 

No matter what the past looks like, I pray your future will be shaped by your “new name”—the one you received in your baptism in Christ. 

(And if that baptism hasn’t happened yet, we can talk about how to make it happen!)

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Image: detail from The Divine Journey - Companions of Love and Hope, Janet McKenzie

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 46; Psalm 48; Isaiah 26:1–9; 2 Corinthians 5:16–6:2; John 8:12–19

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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I don’t know how many times I’ve heard something like this recently: “I will be so glad to put 2020 in the rearview mirror!” 

The year we close out today has indeed been a hard one. And it does look like some things are turning around: a vaccine against the coronavirus is becoming available, and the melodrama around who lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue seems to be coming to an end. 

But truth be told, there are no guarantees that 2021 will be any better. It is not at all clear how we are going to climb out of the economic hole we are in. There is still a serious reckoning with race ahead of us in this country. Many people feel that time is running out on us when it comes to environmental issues, or “creation care.” Many people have been traumatized and emotionally battered (some, in domestic abuse situations, literally battered) by the season we have been enduring. The year to come most certainly will bring its own drama. That’s the only thing we can count on. 

Well, no, that’s not true: 

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change,

though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea;

though its waters roar and foam,

 though the mountains tremble with its tumult (Psalm 46:1-3 NRSV).

Here’s truly something even more important that we can count on (pardon me for using the version that first introduced me to this verse): Thou dost keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee, because he trusts in thee (Isaiah 26:3 RSV). If there is security ahead—deep, lasting, unshakeable, inviolable peace of mind—it is available to those who trust in Yahweh’s trustworthiness. Frankly, it is available nowhere else. 

Short, sweet, and to the point today: put your trust in the Lord—and keep it there. As he got you through 2020, he will get you through whatever lies ahead in 2021. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 20; Psalm 21; Isaiah 25:1–9; Revelation 1:9–20; 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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First the bad news, then the good news. Isaiah 25 paints one of the most hope-filled pictures of the future anywhere in Scripture. To appreciate it, though, we have to see the horrid backdrop of the previous chapter. In Isaiah 24, the prophet foresees the earth being ravaged by human-created pollution: “the earth lies polluted under its inhabitants, for … they have violated the everlasting covenant. Therefore a curse devours the earth, and its inhabitants suffer for their guilt; therefore the inhabitants of the earth dwindled, and few people are left” (Isaiah 24:5–6). Does this sound at all like the world we live in? 

Lawlessness rules in the streets: “The city of chaos is broken down, every house is shut up so that no one can enter. There is an outcry in the streets for lack of wine; all joy has reached its eventide; the gladness of the earth is banished. Desolation is left in the city” (Isaiah 24:10–11). Does this sound at all like the year we are just closing out? 

Heavenly powers as well as earthly rulers have conspired against Yahweh (Isaiah 24:21–23). Yahweh’s response has been to “open the windows of heaven” (as he did in Noah’s day) and unleash a storm of judgment. He overthrows earthly rulers, displaces heavenly powers, and establishes his own rule: “for the Lord of hosts will reign on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem, and before his elders he will manifest his glory” (Isaiah 24:21–23).

Isaiah 25 is the manifestation of that glory. When the storm of judgment has passed, Yahweh will be shown to “have been a refuge to the poor, a refuge to the needy in their distress” (Isaiah 25:4). Because of the coming of Yahweh, “the song of the ruthless was stilled” (Isaiah 25:5). 

On the far side of that storm of judgment want gives way to plenty, and death gives way to life. 

Want gives way to plenty. Just as, during the exodus, Yahweh gathered the elders of Israel on Mt. Sinai to feast in his presence (Exodus 24), on one great day in the future, “On this mountain (Mt. Zion) the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear” (Isaiah 25:6). The Hebrew of this verse is quite difficult to render into English, but it has a beautiful assonance:

mishteh shemanim,
mishteh shemarim,
shemanim memuchayim,
shemarim mezuqqaqim 

Trying to preserve at least the feel of the text’s assonance and poetic parallelism, I render the text this way: 

a feast of filet,
a feast of cabernet,
filet mignon,
cabernet sauvignon 

Whatever the precise meaning of the terms, the sentence would have been mouth-watering to Isaiah’s listeners. What lies ahead of us is a feast beyond compare!

Death gives way to life. 

… he will destroy … the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever — Isaiah 25:7–8a. Gone is the sense of inevitability and finality that hangs like a death pall over our lives. In Canaanite religion, there was always a fear that Mot, the god of death, would prove stronger than Baal, the Canaanite’s fertility-deity, and that ultimately death (Mot) would swallow up life (Baal). Isaiah says, to the contrary, Israel’s Lord, Yahweh, will swallow up death. The pall of death that seems to condition all of life—the sense of tentativeness and fear of death we all live with—will one day surrender to life that has been secured by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

That is why every funeral service for believers in Christ is a celebration of resurrection-life. That is why our funeral palls are resurrection-white. Our shrouds are temporary, our burial sheets are just helping us to mark time. We are merely renting our coffins and burial places or our columbarium niches. One day, we won’t need them any longer. 

… Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces… — Isaiah 25:8b. Gone are the grief and the sadness. Isaiah anticipates the apostles Paul and John. We do grieve, “but not like the rest,” says Paul (1 Thessalonians 4:13). As John brings the Bible’s story to a close in the Book of Revelation, he incorporates words from Isaiah: “he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4). 

… and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth — Isaiah 25:8c. Gone are the shame, the guilt, the remorse, the sense of “being found out.” In the movie On the Waterfront, Marlon Brando’s character Terry Malloy sees the potential for a promising boxing career end when he lets himself be intimidated into throwing a fight. In what has become a classic cinematic moment, he looks back in despair: “You don’t understand! I could’a had class. I could’a been a contender. I could’ve been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let’s face it.” There’s at least a little bit of Terry Malloy in all of us. Always a question mark: did I cut too many corners? did I make the grade? did I do enough? Am I good enough, pretty enough, “cool” enough? In the movie, thanks to the intervention of a faithful priest and the power of “true love,” Terry Malloy experiences a sort of redemption. In real life, redemption comes from a greater faithful High Priest and from the source of Love itself. 

Isaiah’s promise is that our every bad decision is overruled, and is, in fact, woven into a tapestry of all things being made right. “Behold, I make all things new!” (Revelation 21:5). 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 124; Jeremiah 31:15–17; Revelation 21:1–7; Matthew 2:13–18

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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Feast of Holy Innocents (transferred). In the tradition of the Christian Year, December 28 is a day to commemorate the Holy Innocents.  This year, the Feast of Holy Innocents transfers to December 29, because the Feast of St. John was transferred from its normal December 27 to December 28. 

From a sermon by St. Quodvultdeus, 5th century bishop of Carthage (and student of St. Augustine) (Sermo 2 de Symbolo: Patrologia Latina 40, 655) 

A tiny child is born, who is a great king. Wise men are led to him from afar. They come to adore one who lies in a manger and yet reigns in heaven and on earth. When they tell of one who is born a king, Herod is disturbed. To save his kingdom he resolves to kill him, though if he would have faith in the child, he himself would reign in peace in this life and for ever in the life to come.

Why are you afraid, Herod, when you hear of the birth of a king? He does not come to drive you out, but to conquer the devil. But because you do not understand this you are disturbed and in a rage, and to destroy one child whom you seek, you show your cruelty in the death of so many children.

You are not restrained by the love of weeping mothers or fathers mourning the deaths of their sons, nor by the cries and sobs of the children. You destroy those who are tiny in body because fear is destroying your heart. You imagine that if you accomplish your desire you can prolong your own life, though you are seeking to kill Life himself.

Yet your throne is threatened by the source of grace, so small, yet so great, who is lying in the manger. … While you vent your fury against the child, you are already paying him homage, and do not know it.

If I were to make a list of “Top Ten Losers” in the Bible, near the top of my list would be Herod the (so-called) Great. Our Christmas ornaments aren’t even down, and these readings remind us of the darkness and dastardliness of Herod’s slaying of innocent children in Bethlehem. Today’s readings protect Christmas from being reduced to tinsel and decorations. The Feast of Holy Innocents is a stark reminder that Jesus has come into an evil-beset world to take on that evil face-to-face.

Historians debate whether this incident actually took place. Unfortunately, it is totally in character for Herod. His achievements were many. Though only half-Jewish, he rebuilt the temple in Jerusalem with a magnificence that far outpaced Solomon. He had secured his alliance with Rome by conquering Jerusalem for Rome with an army of 30,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry, and by executing forty-six members of its Sanhedrin. Nonetheless, he was maniacally paranoid. He thought his wife was trying to poison him, so he had her killed. Thinking that two of his sons were conspiring with her, he had them killed too—prompting Caesar Augustus to quip, “Better to be Herod’s pig than his son.” (As a half-Jew, Herod would not eat pork.) Not long after the slaying of the innocents in Bethlehem, Herod became so ill it was clear that he was going to die. So hated was he by the population and so determined was he that there would be mourning at this death, he ordered that the “most illustrious men of the whole Jewish nation” be corralled and executed at his death. Happily, that order was allowed to expire once he was no longer around to enforce it. 

The unimaginable cruelty of which the human heart is capable is what has necessitated the birth of Baby Jesus in the first place. The Feast of Holy Innocents reminds us how consequential that birth is. Jesus comes to undo the basest of human cruelties. The “tears of Rachel weeping for her children” (Jeremiah 31:15) will be wiped away—every one of them, when death itself dies (Revelation 21:4). Every Herod will receive his reckoning, and the Baby who escaped that day’s carnage will “make all things new” (Revelation 21:5). 

In Christian tradition, the Holy Innocents of Bethlehem are often referred to as infant martyrs: They cannot speak, yet they bear witness to Christ. They cannot use their limbs to engage in battle, yet already they bear off the palm of victory (Quodvultdeus). In silent testimony, they prompt us to remember all the martyrs of every age—boy and girl, man and woman, young and old, rich and poor. Moreover, Bethlehem’s Holy Innocents remind us acutely of all the little ones who die of cruelty and neglect for whatever reason, martyrs of life itself: pre-born babies in the United States, little ones born to refugees in Central America or the Middle East, Uighur children in Chinese concentration camps, young girls and boys in Africa who are pressed into trafficking or into children’s armies. Lord, have mercy. 

Collect for the Feast of Holy Innocents. We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 92; Exodus 33:18–23; 1 John 1:1–9; John 21:19b–24

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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Feast of St. John (transferred). In the tradition of the Christian Year, December 27 is a day to celebrate the life and ministry of St. John, Son of Zebedee, Beloved Disciple, and author of the Fourth Gospel, 1,2,3 John, and Revelation. Because December 27 falls on a Sunday this year, the Feast of St. John gets transferred to today, December 28. 

John’s is the gospel in which Jesus unveils his divine nature—most especially, it appears, to John the Beloved Disciple. The early church’s choice of the soaring, majestic “eagle” to represent the Gospel according to John seems altogether appropriate. In this gospel, despite the all too familiar struggle of the disciples to understand, Jesus’s glory and majesty are unwrapped in high-altitude language. John begins: “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” From the outset, we are put on notice that we are in a rarified atmosphere. 

One of the profound ironies of this gospel is that while it is unparalleled in its portrayal of the unambiguous divinity of Jesus, it has some of the most poignant cameos of his humanity. It also provides vital hints as to the course of his earthly ministry. Jesus has “compassion” all over the place in the synoptics, but this is the only gospel in which one of his associates is called “the disciple whom Jesus loved” (John 13:23; 19:26; 20:2; 21:7,20). Here are reflections of one whose words leap off the page: “What we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us!” (1 John 1:1b–2). And while Peter’s call is to bear the keys of the kingdom and to go the way of martyrdom, John’s call is to live long and to meditate deeply on the life and words of the One who loves him especially—and to make Him especially real to us.  

Because John’s Jesus is so preeminently divine, he is for that same reason so sublimely human. It is only in John’s gospel that he stands before a friend’s tomb and angrily weeps at the tragedy and awfulness of death (John 11). He attends a wedding (John 2). He accepts an interview with a member of the Sanhedrin (John 3). Instead of, as in Luke, talking about a Good Samaritan, here he actually befriends a Samaritan woman rejected even by her own folk (John 4).

Maybe there’s a message in this point alone: the tendency of the church to pit Jesus’s humanity and divinity against one another is altogether wrong. In reality, the closer you get to his divinity, the more striking are his human features. He has forever wedded his eternal divine nature to our finitude, and promises us a share in his glory. It was John’s Gospel in particular that inspired early church theologians to assert, “He became what we are that we might become what he is!” 

Yesterday’s gospel reading from John included this staggering claim: “And the Word became flesh and (literally) pitched a tent among us” (John 1:14). The eternally existent “I AM” who sent Moses to Pharaoh has now done more than make an appearance in a burning bush before which sandals must be removed—he has now walked the earth himself and sanctified it with his sandaled feet. In the past, the Bible’s great “I AM” (Yahweh) pictured his presence with the tent of the tabernacle that followed a pillar of cloud and fire. Now he has become the tent—and his life lights up the world. In the past, Yahweh displayed his “I AM-ness” in ten judging plagues. Now he has unpacked his “I AM-ness” with seven predicates of blessing:

The Bread of Life and the True Vine (John 6 & 15). Having once provided manna from heaven, he now becomes bread from heaven. He provides the nourishment a man as crippled by his sloth as by his useless legs needs in order to stand and flourish (John 5). Not only is he food, he is drink as well: “if anyone is thirsty, let them come to me” (John 7:37). But he offers not just water. As True Vine, he offers a wine of celebration and joy. Somehow Jesus knows that the truly thirsty person at the well in Samaria is the woman who needs words of life and welcome and truthfulness from him. For every one of us who is joyless and famished and dying of thirst, here is food and drink. 

The Light of the World (John 8–9). For the darkness of the man born blind, there is light; for the pretended sight of the blind teachers, darkness (John 9). For the shame of the woman caught in adultery, there is the bright new day of being forgiven and being given a new start (this is why, I think, this independent story found its way to its home at the beginning of John 8). For the pseudo-righteous who would cast stones, there is the glaring light that exposes their own stonable offenses. For every one of us stumbling in the dark, especially the darkness of self-destructive behavior and guilt and shame, here is the light of pardon and a new direction. 

The Door of the Sheep (John 10). The door of the sheepfold both protects the sheep from predators and provides them their only access to their pasture. From a world that would savage us, there is, finally, protection. To places where our souls can feed, an opening—no, the opening. For lepers who have to live outside the gates, for demon-possessed and smelly beggars whom nobody wants to be around, here is a door into a fellowship where we are really wanted. 

The Good Shepherd (John 10). On the one hand, the old covenant promised that a Shepherd King in David’s line would rule. On the other, God himself—so said Ezekiel—would need to come: “I will feed my flock and I will lead them to rest,” declares the Lord God. “I will seek the lost, bring back the scattered, bind up the broken and strengthen the sick; but the fat and the strong I will destroy. I will feed them with judgment” (34:15-16). For a Nicodemus, the great teacher of Israel, who needs a new birth so he can understand the point of the story, here is the point of the story: in one and the same Person, the King has come and God has come. For every person to whom the Bible is a closed book—even for every lost soul in seminary or Bible college or Sunday school, here’s the point: the King has come and God has come, for you! 

The Resurrection and the Life (John 11). So captivated is John by the glory of the resurrection that it governs his perspective on the death of Jesus. The Good Shepherd will sovereignly lay down his life for his sheep (John 10). Jesus is a friend laying down his life for his friends (John 15). At his arrest—can you even call it that? —, his thrice-repeated “I AM” (John 18:5,6,8) throws his would-be captors to the ground. On the cross, instead of Psalm 22:1’s plaintive “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (as in all three synoptics), John records something like Psalm 22:31’s triumphant “He has performed it.” At John 19:30, Jesus says “tetelesthai = it is finished.” And as if to offer an inclusio on the sayings about the shepherd giving his life for his sheep, about no one taking his life, and about the friend giving his life for his friends, John says Jesus “gives up” his spirit. The “lifting up” of Jesus on the cross is simultaneously his “lifting up” to resurrection, to ascension, to glory. For every person who knows their so-called “life” is but a walking death, Jesus is resurrection, and he is new and everlasting life. 

The Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14). He is the Way: not a set of principles about how to discern the correct path among the many choices in a given situation, but a person who leads. Not a map, but a personal guide. Jesus is the Truth: not abstractions about how to get to truth among the various claims for normativity, but a person who teaches. Not a rulebook, but a coach. Jesus is the Life: not a leap into an existential mystical goo or a brave assertion of personal worth, but a presence that makes alive. Not a dead end to “personal authenticity,” but a friend who takes up life in and with you. 

We remember this day “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” I pray you know your measure of that same love, and are able to answer it: “A new commandment I give you: love one another as I have loved you” (John 13:34). 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 2; Psalm 85; Zechariah 2:10–13; 1 John 4:7–16; John 3:31–36

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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Mercy and truth have met together;
righteousness and peace have kissed each other — Psalm 85:10. 

Truth. The truth is that we are sinners: inveterate truth-twisters and self-seekers. We are fully worthy of the wrath under which the Bible says we stand. The truth is that we do not wish there to be a straight line against which our lives will be measured. We are, as C. S. Lewis might put it, “bent,” and do not wish to be straightened, or even to acknowledge that there is a “straight” against which our “bentness” could be measured. We do not want anyone telling us that there is a true right and a true wrong, or that there is but one God, and one way to approach that God. That’s the truth about us. 

Mercy. Christmas means one staggering thing above all others: the truth about our sinfulness did not collide with our lives in the horrible and crushing way that it might have. The psalmist says that “truth” met with “mercy.” We did not get what we deserved—and this, at bottom, is what “mercy” means. Earlier, the psalmist says to Yahweh, “You have forgiven the iniquity of your people and blotted out all their sins. You have withdrawn all your fury and turned yourself from your wrathful indignation” (Psalm 85:2). 

John’s way of putting this glad truth is that “God loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10b). Here is mercy meeting with truth. The Greek term hilasmos, which the NRSV translates “atoning sacrifices,” is one of the richest words in the Bible. Its root meaning has to do with laughter and joy (as in the English term “hilarity”). For that reason, older translations render hilasmos as “propitiation,” meaning to restore joyful concord between God and us: “... [God] sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins” (KJV). 

Psalm 85:2 presents facets of God’s meeting the truth of our sinfulness with his propitiating mercy. In the mercy of Christ’s sacrifice, our iniquities are taken away from us—the base meaning behind the word “forgiven” is “to be made to go away” (apheinai). In the mercy of Christ’s sacrifice, our sins are “blotted out”—the Hebrew of Psalm 85:2 is literally, “covered,” meaning the punishment that should have fallen on us fell on our substitute. The motive behind God’s sending his Son is his love for us; the result is that the frown that the truth about us deserves turns to a smile. God delights in us through the sending and the sacrifice of his Son. A deep and rich and mysterious mercy begins its approach to us at Christmas. 

Righteousness. We all know that all is not “right” in the world. The rules don’t seem to apply equally to all. Many “haves” shouldn’t have. Many “have nots” should have. “Rightness” is, of course, basic to who God is. So is making all things right. Christmas brings God’s “rightness” into the world. In his words—like the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5–7) and the Sermon on the Plain (Luke 6)—Jesus teaches us how to live rightly … and soberly and in godly fashion. At least that’s how Paul puts it in Titus 2:11–12: “For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all, training us to renounce impiety and worldly passions, and in the present age to live lives that are self-controlled, upright, and godly.” He makes us right with God, and then begins to make us right within. And that leads to … 

Peace. Well, that leads to … the kiss of peace. Jesus gives us not just words about right living, he provides deeds that show peace come to earth. To be sure, he brings a “sword” against sin and evil and death (Matthew 10:34). But his ultimate weaponry is, ironically, his touch of healing and forgiveness. “Blessed are the peacemakers,” he says, “for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9). Psalm 85:10 speaks of “righteousness” and “peace” kissing, despite the fact that that is not necessarily an obvious coupling. Many seek to enforce their vision of “rightness” through violence, manipulation, and intimidation. Jesus brings “rightness” differently. He makes all things right through absorbing violence, and letting the manipulators and intimidators seem to have their way. The demands of righteousness and the way of peace coalesce in his life and collide on the cross. And in the end, they kiss. “Heaven’s peace and perfect justice kissed a guilty world in love,” as the hymn paraphrases today’s verse. 

I pray you find yourself at Christmas’s intersection of truth and mercy. I pray you experience the sweet kiss of righteousness and peace. Merry Christmas. 

Be blessed this day,

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 45; Psalm 46; Isaiah 35:1–10; Revelation 22:12–17(18–20)21; Luke 1:67–80

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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Isaiah and hope: the song that never ends. From time to time our Old Testament readings remind us that despite all the travails and the judgments that Israel experiences, the message she bears for the world is ultimately one of hope. In Isaiah 35, the prophet receives an unusually—even for him!—uncanny picture of the salvation that is to come. On the far side of the denuding of the land and the decimation of the population by the Assyrians and the Babylonians, good things await. God’s people can expect their covenant-keeping God to pour his Spirit of life and fertility on their desolate land and to provide healing and life for their ailing and broken people. That’s who he is—that is his long-term commitment to them.  

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,
    and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer,
    and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy (Isaiah 35:5–6). 

The child born in a manger this night will grow up to enact these very promises. For it is precisely in these terms that Jesus will answer the imprisoned John the Baptist as to whether he, Jesus, is in fact the one who is coming to redeem and rescue God’s people: ““Go and tell John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, the poor have good news brought to them” (Luke 7:22). 

Something to remember as we prepare to welcome his birth: though he is a unique singularity (“your only and eternal Son,” as the Eucharistic prayer goes), Jesus does not come in isolation. It’s just as Isaiah said it would be (though Isaiah put it in symbolic terms): “For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water” (Isaiah 35:6b,7a). The “bright morning star” and “the dawn from on high” do not come without bringing with them the full light of day (Revelation 22:16; Luke 1:78). 

Jesus’s coming is accompanied by the presence and the power of the Holy Spirit. His anointing at the River Jordan as Israel’s true Prophet, Priest, and King comes at the hand of no mortal. As all four gospel writers note, it comes by the descent of God’s Holy Spirit from God the Father, in the form of a dove (Matthew 3:16; Mark 1:10; Luke 3:21–22; John 1:32–33). It is in that power that he defeats Satan in the wilderness; exorcises demons; raises the dead; and gives sight to the blind, hearing to the deaf, strength of limb to the lame, and speech to those who cannot speak. It is a whole new order of peace, joy, and healing—the Age of the Spirit—that Christ’s birth ushers in. 

And it is that very life that Jesus breathes into his disciples at his resurrection. It is that very life that he says pours out of himself into his followers: 

“Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink. As the scripture has said, ‘Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.’’’ Now he said this about the Spirit, which believers in him were to receive; for as yet there was no Spirit, because Jesus was not yet glorified (John 7:37b–39). 

Prepare! Come! On Christmas Eve it is appropriate to note that the New Testament’s story begins and ends with words of invitation. In the first chapter of Luke’s Gospel, John the Baptist is born to call people to prepare for their rescue and for the gift of the forgiveness of their sins (Luke 1). Our story opens thus, with John the Baptist coming to baptize with the water of repentance. In the last chapter of the Book of Revelation, we read, “the Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come’” (Revelation 22). They invite everyone who is thirsty for that rescue and its forgiveness to come and to drink. Our story—indeed, the whole Bible’s story—closes with “the Alpha and the Omega” providing “the water of life as a gift” (Revelation 22:13,17). 

John the Baptist shouts, Prepare! 

The anointing Spirit and the beautified Bride urge in tandem, Come!

Prepare! Come! 

Collect of the Nativity of our Lord: Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 72; Isaiah 28:9–29; Revelation 21:9–21; Luke 1:26–38

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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Luke. Today’s gospel reading was the lectionary reading for this past Sunday, and I preached on that passage. I thought it was worth paying attention to the way Gabriel spoke to Mary of the joy she was to help to bring into the world, of the utter grace that was being bestowed upon her and upon all who learned to receive that same grace, and of the fact that the Lord’s presence in and through her meant she would never be alone: “Greetings (literally, “Rejoice”), favored one (literally, “she who has received grace”)! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28). The recurrence of this passage in today’s Daily Office provides occasion to reflect on resonances with rich Scripture passages.

Psalm 72. This psalm “of Solomon” (verse 1 in the Hebrew) celebrates the reign of David’s son. King Solomon was the last to govern a united kingdom, and this psalm sees his rule as being characterized by long duration, by care for the needy, by international fame for Israel, and by productivity of the land. 

Christians have always read in Psalm 72 an anticipation of the reign of Christ, who described himself as “greater than Solomon” (Matthew 12:42). His resurrection (not to mention his pre-existence) means that he will be “established” even longer than “the sun endures” (compare with Revelation 21:23–243 — “And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it”). 

As the heir of David that Gabriel promises to Mary, Jesus unites not only Samaria and Judah, but Jew and Gentile (John 4:22–24; Acts 1:8; 8:4–8; Romans 15:7–13; Ephesians 2:11-22). He preaches good news to the poor (Luke 4:18). He receives “all authority under heaven and on earth,” sending his disciples to the ends of the earth to make disciples, that is, to claim citizens for his kingship (Matthew 28:18–20). And at his return, believers expect him to usher in a completely new creation, where the tree of life brings healing to the nations (Revelation 22:1–22).  

Psalm 72 was, accordingly, one of the most obvious psalms for Isaac Watts (1719) to recast in Christ-centered terms:

1 Jesus shall reign where’er the sun
does its successive journeys run,
his kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
till moons shall wax and wane no more.

2 To him shall endless prayer be made,
and praises throng to crown his head.
His name like sweet perfume shall rise
with every morning sacrifice.

3 People and realms of every tongue
dwell on his love with sweetest song,
and infant voices shall proclaim
their early blessings on his name.

4 Blessings abound where’er he reigns:
the prisoners leap to lose their chains,
the weary find eternal rest,
and all who suffer want are blest.

5 Let every creature rise and bring
the highest honors to our King,
angels descend with songs again,
and earth repeat the loud “Amen!” 

With Mary’s “Let it be done unto me,” she assents to bringing into the world and to nurturing this very reality. Praise be! 

Isaiah. Because of Israel’s idolatries—her “covenant with death”—Isaiah promises a storm of judgment: “hail will sweep away the refuge of lies, and waters will overwhelm the shelter” (Isaiah 28:17). That indeed, was the effect of the Assyrian and the Babylonian armies as they unleashed their fury against God’s people. Nonetheless, Yahweh promises that he is using the process to lay “in Zion a foundation stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation” (Isaiah 28:16). In the midst of storm, faithful Israelites who put their trust in Yahweh will find one piece of solid ground upon which to stand. 

Mary is one such faithful Israelite, saying “Yes!” to the Lord’s overture to her. And so Edward Mote’s (1834) hymn is as true for her as it is for you and me: 

In ev’ry rough and stormy gale,
my anchor holds within the vale.
When all around my soul gives way,
he then is all my hope and stay. 

On Christ the solid rock I stand,
all other ground is sinking sand…

Revelation. Today’s passage presents the next to last mention in the Bible of God’s bride: redeemed humanity. The church. Here is the culmination of a massively glorious theme we have seen developing for months in our Daily Office readings. Prior to the Book of Revelation, the theme has been especially prominent in the prophet Hosea and in the Song of Songs. Then, from Revelation 12 forward, Scripture accelerates this theme toward its destination: the magnificent marriage of the Lamb. In Revelation 12, the church, in the figure of a woman, is rescued and whisked into the wilderness for protection. In Revelation 19, the church is made ready as a bride for her wedding. Now, finally, she is shown in her full glory: “Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb” (Revelation 21:9). And the vision consists of the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of God perfected: “And in the [S]pirit he carried me away to a great, high mountain and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God” (Revelation 21:10). 

At this point, we just have to stand back and ponder, maybe even wordlessly, the magnificence of the imagery John is given. Back in Revelation 19, we are told that the bride who has made herself ready, “‘to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure’—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints” (Revelation 19:7–8). There the “righteous deeds” by which she has prepared herself are “fine linen.” Here, those “righteous deeds” take on the features of a beautiful symmetry of construction—the balancing of twelve tribes of Israel and twelve apostles of Christ (Revelation 21:12,14). And instead of linen, we behold valuable stones and precious metals. What seem to humble believers to be the feeblest attempts to honor Christ in this life bear promise of being eternally majestic ornaments. That’s about all I know to say. Except to repeat Revelation 19’s fourfold, “Hallelujah! … Hallelujah!! … Hallelujah!!! … Hallelujah!!!! 

Oh, Mary, did you have any idea what you were saying “Yes!” to?

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 66; Isaiah 11:1o–16; Revelation 20:11–21:8; Luke 1:5–25 

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: a signal for the nations. Isaiah is an extraordinary seer of God’s nuanced future for his people and for the world. In today’s vision, Isaiah foresees an heir to David’s throne (the “root of Jesse” from the first half of Isaiah 11) reigning from Jerusalem, and restoring peace between the northern kingdom (Israel or Ephraim) and the southern kingdom (Judah). Yahweh will “raise a standard” and gather children of Abraham and Sarah from all directions of their dispersion: from east (Elam in Iran, Shinar in Babylon, Hamath in Syria) and south (Pathros in Egypt, Ethiopia) and west (“the [Mediterranean] coastlands”). And God’s army will once again renew his campaign against the surrounding godless nations (Philistia, Edom, Moab, Ammon). 

The New Testament interprets these prophecies’ fulfillment, in part, at Jesus Christ’s First Coming and in the proclamation of the good news of God’s victory over sin and death in the cross and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus, a descendant of the royal line of David, ministers in Galilee and Samaria (the old northern kingdom) and in Jerusalem and its environs (the old southern kingdom). From all around the Mediterranean basin, Jews come to Jerusalem at Pentecost. Here thousands believe in Jesus, are baptized, and receive the Holy Spirit. Then, as the gospel goes out from Jerusalem, it goes first to Samaria—symbolically reuniting Israel and Judah under the banner of Christ. From there, the gospel goes to the nations, claiming hearts for the service of King Jesus. 

Revelation: “I make all things new.” The finality of Isaiah’s promise awaits, of course, Christ’s Second Coming. And that is what John depicts in today’s reading in Revelation. The byline for today’s passage in Revelation comes from the Returning Jesus: “See, I am making all things new” (Revelation 21:5):

• A new heaven and new earth (Revelation 21:1)

• The new Jerusalem (Revelation 21:2)

• The earthly bride (the church) adorned for her husband (Jesus)—newly constituted communion between God and us (Revelation 21:2–3)

• Each human life shown to have eternal significance (Revelation 20:11–15)

• Joy returns—no more tears (Revelation 21:4)

• Life returns—no more death (Revelation 21:4)

• Flourishing prevails—all the things marking the diminishment of human worth and dignity are banished from God’s new creation (Revelation 21:6–8)

Luke: “your prayer has been heard.” The drama of the fulfilling of the Isaianic vision begins, as far as Luke is concerned, with a priest named Zechariah performing his duties in the temple, attending to the incense (a symbol of prayer). The angel Gabriel announces to him that he and his wife Elizabeth, though they are “both getting on in years,” will have a child in answer to their prayers. And not just any child. Their son will minister in the “spirit and power of Elijah” to prepare God’s people for a most amazing visitation from the Lord. Most people probably find the most memorable feature of Luke’s account to be Zechariah’s laugh of incredulity, and his consignment to muteness until time to name the child (as commanded) John. 

Seems to me, the three things to be remembered from this story are: 

• God has a sovereign will and plan to bring redemption to the human race, but he seems to take pleasure in effecting it in response to his people’s prayers.

• Zechariah is not the first, nor will he be the last, person in the Bible who does not respond to God’s promises with a perfect faith—think of Sarah’s laugh when God promises her a son at ninety-something years; and think of Peter’s shaky faith or Thomas’s understandable doubt. Thankfully, God’s grace has a way of overriding our vacillation. When “the spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak” (Matthew 26:41), Christ’s prayers for us prevail.

• In Christian art, the Gospel of Luke, by the way, is represented by the “bull” of Ezekiel 1:10 and Revelation 4:7, because Luke begins his narrative in the temple, the place of sacrifice. Christ comes among us humbly, to offer himself as a sacrifice for the sins of the whole world. In imitation of him, we give ourselves—even when God has to override our pride and pretense, our sloth and indifference—in sacrificial service. Even when that sacrificial service amounts, as it did with Zechariah, to something as seemingly insignificant as being where we are supposed be … and paying attention. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 61; Psalm 62; Isaiah 11:1–9; Revelation 20:1–10; John 5:30–47

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’s vision of the ministry of Messiah. In today’s passage, Isaiah opens the curtain for a moment to give the people of his generation an extraordinary peek into the work of the Messiah who was to come. When Jesus came to the earth, he took up precisely the mantle Isaiah describes here. 

• Jesus is of David’s royal lineage: “from the stump of Jesse” (Isaiah 11:1; Luke 1:32; Acts 13:22–23, “of [David’s] posterity God has brought to Israel a Savior, Jesus, as he promised”). 

• Jesus ministered in the power and under the illumination of the Holy Spirit: “The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him…” (Isaiah 11:2; Matthew 3:16; John 1:32, “the Spirit descended from heaven … and rested on him”).  

• He clothed himself with justice, righteousness, equity, and truthfulness, not self-promotion, ego, favoritism, and prevarication: “Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist….” (Isaiah 11:3; John 5:30; 8:16, “Yet even if I do judge, my judgment is valid”).

• The Kingdom-gospel that he proclaims brings conviction of sin; it exposes sham religiosity and deathly false dealing: “with the breath of his lips he shall slay the wicked” (Isaiah 11:4b; Romans 1:17–18; John 16:7–9, [the Spirit] “will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment”). 

• His good news turns enemies into friends; he unites republican and democrat, pacifist and militant, extrovert and introvert, Red Sox fan and Yankees fan, dog lover and cat lover “The wolf shall live with the lamb…” (Isaiah 11:6–8; Ephesians 2:14, “For he is our peace…”). 

• The life-giving gospel that emanates from Jerusalem’s holy mountain will go to the ends of the earth: “for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the earth” (Isaiah 11:9; Acts 1:8; Matthew 28:18–20, “make disciples of all the nations”). 

Revelation and the “now” and the “not yet.” In the Book of Revelation, John is given a breathtaking vision of the way that Jesus’s messianic ministry plays out both in the “now” and in the “not yet”—that is, how it begins in his First Coming and culminates in his Second Coming.

Revelation 20 is one of the trickiest passages in all of Scripture, and there are several schools of thought about its overall thrust. In the course of a devotional writing, I ask your indulgence to allow me to offer insights from where I land in the landscape of interpretations. To cut to the chase, I believe that in Revelation 20:1–3, John is not looking into the distant future. Instead, I believe he is looking back at what transpired during Jesus’s earthly ministry, that is, during his First Coming. He “bound” Satan through his exorcisms, his healings, and his allowing himself to be lifted up on and nailed to the cross (Revelation 20:2; Matthew 12:29; Mark 3:27; Luke 13:16; John 12:31–32; Colossians 2:14–15). Most significantly, the work that Jesus began in his exorcisms and that culminated on the cross means that Satan is no longer able to “deceive the nations,” so that the saving good news of our liberation from sin and death can be spread and joyfully embraced around the world (Revelation 20:3; Acts 26:18; Hebrews 2:14–15). 

What began in Jesus’s First Coming is a long period of time (of which 1,000 years is symbolic) in which our now Ascended Jesus reigns. Believers have experienced the “first resurrection,” that is, their new birth in Christ (John 3:3’s “You must be born again”; alternatively, this language of “first resurrection” may refer ironically to the deaths of martyrs, as representatives of all believers). As a “kingdom of priests” (Revelation 1:6; 20:6) believers (and especially the martyrs) share in Christ’s reign: they see Christ’s victorious gospel spread from pole to pole and all around the globe. 

Isaiah foresaw all of this, if only from a distance. But what he also saw was a complete elimination of all that is evil—something that awaits the Second Coming. We know that the peaceability that Isaiah described between enemies and rivals has never yet been completely realized. Revelation 20 spells out the exact nature of Satan’s circumscription during this age: he cannot prevent the gospel’s advance among the nations. As Jesus tells Paul when he commissions him to take the good news to the Gentiles: “...to open their eyes so that they may turn from darkness to light and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me” (Acts 26:18). At the end of the (symbolic) 1,000 years of gospel-expansion, Satan will be released for one (in the terms of biblical theologian Herman Ridderbos) “final explosion of evil.” And then the Lord will return—his Second Coming. At that time, he will consign the Devil and his cohorts to their eternal lot, eliminating all evil from the human and cosmic experience (Revelation 20:7–10). 

John and belief. Meanwhile, the Lord Jesus himself calls for one main thing: belief. Not an unteachable belief in the details of the final scenario (we’re all going to be in for surprises in that regard, I’m sure). No, belief that he is Lord. Belief in him. Belief that, as he says in today’s gospel reading: “The works that the Father has given me to complete, the very works that I am doing, testify on my behalf that the Father has sent me” (John 5:36). Belief that the Father has sent him for you and me—and for many who as yet do not know him. Belief that life right now may be full of the sense of newness in him and gratitude for a share in his reign. Belief that when he comes again, we will be able to welcome him with joy and anticipation at the eternal fellowship that awaits. 

Be blessed this day, 

Reggie Kidd+

Daily Devotions with the Dean

This morning’s Scriptures are: Psalm 40; Psalm 54; Isaiah 10:5–19 (and 10:20–27, from Saturday’s readings); 2 Peter 2:17–22 (and Jude 17–25, from Saturday’s readings); Matthew 11:2–15. 

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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Biblical faith is irrepressibly hopeful. In the middle of the night, it always prepares for day. Advent insists that darkness, disease, and death will not prevail, and that Christmas is just around the corner. And it’s not just that we can be confident that vaccines will suppress viruses, or that (at least in our system of government) checks and balances will eventually prevail over the feverish madness of authoritarians or libertines. No, really, Advent’s hope and Christmas’s promise is that a day will come when there will be no diseases to be protected from, nor bad rulers to be reined in. One day, death will be no more, and one righteous King will rule. 

Isaiah catches several glimpses of that hope over the course of his prophesying. In his tenth chapter (the readings for today and tomorrow), Isaiah raises his voice against the Assyrians who attack the northern kingdom of Israel, savaging its people and ravaging the countryside. Assyria has been Yahweh’s disciplining instrument against his covenant-violating people in Israel: “Ah, Assyria, the rod of my anger—the club in their hands is my fury!” (Isaiah 10:5). But in its overweening pride, Assyria thinks it is doing its own bidding, and presumes to come against the southern kingdom of Judah as well. Yahweh will have none of it: “When the Lord has finished all his work on Mount Zion and on Jerusalem, he will punish the arrogant boasting of the king of Assyria and his haughty pride” (10:12). 

Isaiah invokes the language of the centuries-past exodus from Egypt and conquest of the Land of Promise. Yahweh will act once again on his people’s behalf: “O my people, who live in Zion, do not be afraid of the Assyrians when they beat you with a rod and lift up their staff against you as the Egyptians did. For in a very little while my indignation will come to an end, and my anger will be directed to their destruction. The Lord of hosts will wield a whip against them, as when he struck Midian at the rock of Oreb; his staff will be over the sea, and he will lift it as he did in Egypt. On that day his burden will be removed from your shoulder, and his yoke will be destroyed from your neck” (Isaiah 10:24–27). Further on, Isaiah promises a forerunner who will prepare the way for that new exodus and conquest: “A voice is calling out: In the wilderness prepare the way for the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3).

That forerunner is John the Baptist. When the imprisoned John the Baptist sought assurance about whether Jesus was the Messiah and inaugurator of the new exodus and conquest that God had been promising, Jesus answered John’s question with a resounding “Yes!” He instructed the Baptist’s messengers: “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepersare cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them” (Matthew 11:4–5). Those acts, prophesied by Isaiah 700 years earlier, are signs of the “breaking in” of God’s great deliverance: “Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf shall be unstopped…” (Isaiah 32:5).

The most intriguing verse in today’s passage in Matthew is the twelfth verse, with its note of conquest. I’m pretty sure the translation of the Evangelical Heritage Version gets verse 12 right: “From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven has been advancing forcefully (biazetai) and forceful people (biastai) are seizing it” (and see also the marginal note in the NRSV). The Greek verb biazetai is in the middle/passive voice, and therefore could be translated either with an active sense (“advancing forcefully”) or a passive sense (“suffering violence”). And the noun biastai denotes “forceful people,” but it could indicate literal force (“violent people”) or metaphorical force (“assertive people”). 

Most translators and commentators take the latter option for both words, thinking that in this verse Jesus is saying that ever since John began his ministry, the kingdom has faced resistance. While that is true enough, I don’t think it is what Jesus means here. In the previous chapter, Jesus says, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword” (Matthew 10:34). And in Matthew 16, Jesus will insist that the gates of hell will not stand against the church that he himself will build (Matthew 16:18). Jesus’s ministry as a whole is one of carrying out God’s warfare against the evils of demon possession, of sickness and death, and of people’s subjugation to sin’s condemnation. In Jesus’s ministry, God’s kingdom is forcefully asserting itself against the kingdom of darkness. And with Matthew 11:12’s “forceful people are seizing it,” Jesus commends an assertive faith, a faith that resists the negativity of sin, death, and demonic influence. With his challenge, “Let anyone with ears listen!”, Jesus urges a faith that boldly takes hold of God’s kingdom promises. 

2 Peter and Jude on keeping hope alive. Before taking on the false teachers’ bogus teaching to the effect that the Lord is not returning (in 2 Peter 3), Peter fires one last salvo against their lethal combination of pretended profundity and ethical laxity: “They promise them freedom, but they themselves are slaves of corruption” (2 Peter 2:19). There’s a world of depth in this simple thought. It is worth long and slow pondering. Certain things that seem to offer liberation actually wind up subjecting us to the most desperate and debilitating of life patterns. 

For help in keeping ourselves properly oriented to a vibrant hope during Advent, we give Peter’s spiritual twin Jude the last word (from tomorrow’s reading): “But you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; look forward to the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life” (Jude 20–21). 

May your readings, your worship, and your meditation take you further into the glory and richness of our “most holy faith.” May the Holy Spirit deepen and enliven your prayers, especially that we may see Kingdom-come. May the love of God hold you tight. May the mercy of King Jesus await you at his return. 

Be blessed this day.

Reggie Kidd+