“The world desperately needs this Lutheran witness. In our current context, we see so much yelling — even as many people don’t feel heard or seen. There is so much anger, even as so many people’s hearts are breaking with grief. We are surrounded by so many voices, images and opinions, even as many people feel isolated and alone. God’s love has the power to break through all this noise, break down all this division, break apart all this cruelty. One person — you, the bearer of this love — can make all the difference. Put your body where love is needed.”
(Reverand Kristin Johnston Largen, President of Warburg Seminary, Iowa)
INTRODUCTION
John’s Gospel gives us a vivid conversion story this week: Jesus meets a man born blind, sees him with compassion, and restores his sight — sparking wonder, confusion, and notable outrage among the Pharisees. The moment exposes how easily we mistake certainty for vision, and how Christ keeps pulling us out of our shadows into the light of what is good and right and true. It’s the kind of moment Dr. Largen names so clearly: a world full of noise, anger, and isolation suddenly interrupted by a love that actually sees someone and moves toward them.
That same pattern shows up in the life of John Newton, whose own eyes began to open during a terrifying storm at sea in 1748. Newton had spent years participating in the slave trade, yet that night marked the beginning of a long, uneven conversion that eventually led him into abolitionist work, ministry, and the writing of a poem for a sermon—Faith’s Review and Expectation. We know it today as Amazing Grace, with its unforgettable confession: “Was blind, but now I see” (note John 9:25). Newton’s story, like the blind man’s, reminds us that God keeps showing up in the places we least expect, inviting us to see differently and live differently. And if Dr. Largen is right — and I believe she is — this is not just ancient history or a hymn’s backstory. It’s a call. In a world where so many feel unseen, unheard, or overwhelmed, the healing in John 9 and the awakening in Newton’s life point to the same truth: God’s love breaks through the noise by taking on flesh in ordinary people. One person, putting their body where love is needed, can make all the difference.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: The introductory quote from Kristin Johnston Largen was drawn from her Living Lutheran article (Spring 2026), page 53.
Thanks for your visit here again this week! Monday (9 March) marks Day 16 of the Lenten season (40 days from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday (not counting Sundays).
A reminder: Utilize the Table of Contents to navigate various sections of the blog and also take note of links within the text (italicized and bolded) that offer further explanations.
This Week’s Readings
Themes and Connections
The readings for 4 Lent trace how God sees and restores what human eyes overlook, moving people from shadow into true sight. Samuel learns that God chooses by the heart, Psalm 23 voices trust in a shepherd who leads through darkness, and Ephesians calls believers to awaken as children of light. John 9 embodies all of this as Jesus opens the eyes of a man born blind, revealing that real vision comes through encounter with God’s mercy rather than human judgment.
The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.
Image of the Week
“Healing of the Blind Man” by Danish painter Carl Bloch (1834-1890)
Carl Bloch’s Healing of the Blind Man (1871) shows Jesus meeting Bartimaeus with a calm, steady authority as the blind man kneels and reaches toward him. The scene unfolds against dark stone walls, where townspeople, children, skeptics, and disciples gather — each reacting in their own way to the moment of grace. Bloch, a Danish painter trained at the Royal Danish Academy and shaped by years studying Italian masters, became known for religious works that combine emotional clarity with dramatic light. This painting highlights the shift from darkness to light, both in the setting and in Bartimaeus’s awakening, reflecting Bloch’s conviction that Christ’s miracles reveal a deeper kind of sight.
Among this week’s commemorations, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth come across as two women who simply refused to let the world stay as it was, and they carried a fierce, grounded faith that shaped everything they did. Tubman’s courage on the Underground Railroad and Truth’s preaching and public witness both grew out of a deep conviction that God intends freedom, dignity, and wholeness for every person. The ELCA remembers them as renewers of society because their lives didn’t just challenge injustice — they helped re‑imagine what a just society could look like, insisting that faith must take the side of the oppressed. Their stories still nudge us today to put our own bodies where love, courage, and truth are needed most.
Tuesday 10 March: Harriet Tubman (d. 1913) and Sojourner Truth (d. 1883), Renewers of Society
Thursday 12 March: Gregory the Great, Bishop of Rome (d. 604)
Harriet Tubman (1822-1913)
Musical Meditation and Prayer: Amazing Grace
John Newton (1725-1807)
Amazing Grace began as a New Year’s Day sermon illustration John Newton wrote in 1772, long after a violent storm at sea first shook him awake to God’s mercy during his years in the slave trade. Newton later became an Anglican priest in Olney, England, where he and poet William Cowper published the text—then titled Faith’s Review and Expectation—in their 1779 collection Olney Hymns, printed without any musical setting. The hymn remained relatively modest in England, but it flourished in the United States during the early 19th century, especially amid the revivalism of the Second Great Awakening, where its message of grace resonated across denominations. Its now‑familiar melody, New Britain, was added in 1835 by American composer William Walker, and that pairing transformed Amazing Grace into one of the most widely sung hymns in the world, cherished for its simple poetry, its honest confession, and its enduring promise of redemption.
The version offered here is a wonderful interpretation of the song performed by the Salt Lake Choral Artists. Enjoy!
Lyrics
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound That saved a wretch like me! I once was lost, but now am found; Was blind, but now I see.
’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved; How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come; ’Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, And grace will lead me home.
The Lord has promised good to me, His Word my hope secures; He will my Shield and Portion be, As long as life endures.
When we’ve been there ten thousand years, Bright shining as the sun, We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise Than when we’d first begun.
Note: These lyrics are drawn from the ELW (779).
Salt Lake Choral Artists is a distinguished multi‑ensemble choral organization in Salt Lake City, recognized for its artistic excellence, stylistic versatility, and commitment to choral education. Bringing together singers of varied ages and backgrounds, the organization presents performances that range from classical masterworks to global and contemporary repertoire, often in collaboration with leading artists and institutions. Through initiatives such as the Summer Choral Institute, they cultivate emerging talent and support the development of singers, conductors, and composers. Their work has earned consistent regional and national acclaim, positioning them as an ensemble that enriches both the cultural life of their community and the broader choral landscape.
And, here is something you may find hopeful regarding the situation in the Middle East — it is from the Lutheran World Federation (LWF) website:
Joint statement from Anglican, Lutheran, Methodist and Reformed church leaders
Leaders of four global Christian communions say they are “profoundly dismayed” at the international community’s failure to prevent wars including the escalation of conflict in Iran and the Middle East.
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, and is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
Our in-person Lectionary discussion group that meets at ELC will be off until APRIL 12TH. This is due to travel on my part and activities on Palm Sunday and Easter.
“In his encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus must overcome a number of barriers to interaction, much less to genuine, vulnerable conversation. Their contrasting genders, ethnic identities, faiths, and social roles all discourage them from speaking to each other . . . And when she leans in, connecting his proclamation to her own sacred teachings, Jesus honors her with his own trust. He confesses to her — the first person to whom Jesus himself makes this claim in John’s Gospel — that he is the expected Messiah.” (Serena Rice)
INTRODUCTION
Life’s chance encounters sit close to the surface for me this week as I return to Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well. John writes this scene not as a detached reporter but as one of the early church’s theological narrators, shaping the community’s memory of Jesus through the sources available to him — his own presence among the disciples on that journey through Samaria, the stories they shared afterward, and the oral tradition that carried these encounters forward. That layered memory lets him slow the pace and let us overhear a real conversation unfolding in real time. And beneath it all runs the question that drove every Gospel writer and still presses on us today: Who is Jesus for us, here and now? In John’s hands, that question comes alive in the bright noon light, where an unexpected meeting becomes a turning point for a woman, a village, and anyone willing to listen.
“The Samaritan Women” by Tito (c. 1919)
The Samaritan woman — known in Eastern Orthodox tradition as Photini, steps into the story unnamed but unforgettable. Jesus and his disciples take the direct route from Judea to Galilee, which means passing through Samaria. That choice alone carries weight. Jews and Samaritans shared ancestry but lived with deep hostility, especially over where God should be worshiped: Jerusalem for Jews, Mount Gerizim for Samaritans. What feels like an old family argument to us was a defining boundary line two thousand years ago. Into that tension, Jesus initiates a long, open conversation with a woman who, by every social measure, should have been ignored. She carried three strikes: Samaritan, woman, and someone whose marital history raised eyebrows. Yet Jesus not only speaks with her—he speaks with her longerthan with anyone else in the Gospels, as Barbara Brown Taylor notes. And she becomes the first person to whom he openly reveals himself as the Messiah. Those details should stop us in our tracks. As you read the exchange, notice how Jesus meets her. Nicodemus came at night, curious but cautious. She came for water, not answers. Jesus seeks her out in broad daylight and opens a conversation that touches her deepest truth. You can almost feel the moment her world shifts. Her response stands in sharp contrast to Nicodemus. He fades back into the shadows, still wrestling. She runs toward her community with joy, becoming the first evangelist in John’s Gospel. Because of her testimony, the people of Sychar come to Jesus and proclaim him “the Savior of the world.”
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: My reflections here were prompted by Serena Rice’s article in the March 2026 edition of The Christian Century (p. 25). She serves as Pastor at Abiding Peace Lutheran Church in Budd Lake, New Jersey. Abiding Peace is a member of the ELCA.
Monday (2 March) marks Day 11 of the 40 day Lenten Journey which began on Ash Wednesday (18 February) and will end on Maundy Thursday (1 April).
Thanks for visiting this space again this week and two reminders: utilize the links to the left to navigate the blog and be aware that I have various links throughout the blog that will take you to sites for further reading!
This Week’s Readings
Themes and Connections The readings for Lent 3 tighten around a single arc: people thirst, hearts harden, and God meets that resistance with sustaining mercy. Israel’s quarrel at Massah and Meribah becomes the backdrop for Psalm 95’s warning, even as Paul names the deeper truth—God pours out love precisely when we are weakest. That love takes flesh in Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman, where living water breaks open old boundaries and turns skepticism into witness.
The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.
Image of the Week
“Christ and the Samaritan Woman,” (c. 1593) by Annibale Carracci (1560-1609)
Carracci’s Christ and the Samaritan Woman captures the moment when an ordinary stop at a well turns into a life‑changing conversation. Jesus leans toward her with a calm, open gesture, meeting her right in the middle of her daily routine—much like Pastor Serena Rice describes, breaking through every barrier that should have kept them apart. The woman pauses with her jar, caught between the world she knows and the unexpected trust he offers, and the whole scene glows with the quiet revelation of someone realizing, perhaps for the first time, who is standing before her. Learn more about this painting here.
This Week’s ELCA Commemorations
There are three ELCA commemorations this week:
Monday 2 March: John Wesley (d. 1791), Charles Wesley (d. 1788), Renewers of the Church
Saturday 7 March: Perpetua, Felicity, and Companions, martyrs at Carthage (202)
Perpetua and Felicity were part of a small group of North African Christians martyred in Carthage in 203, during a wave of persecution under Emperor Septimius Severus. Perpetua — a young noblewoman and new mother — and Felicity — an enslaved woman who gave birth in prison days before the execution — stood alongside their companions as a community formed not by status but by baptismal identity. Their story, preserved in The Passion of Saints Perpetua and Felicity, shows them crossing social, economic, and gender boundaries with the same kind of courageous trust Pastor Serena Rice highlights in the Samaritan woman: when Christ meets people across the lines meant to divide them, they respond with a boldness that still speaks to us today.
“I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say” comes from Horatius Bonar (1808–1889), a Scottish pastor who wrote it in the 1840s during his ministry in Kelso. He crafted it as a simple, direct invitation to Christ — part of his wider effort to give congregations and young people clear, memorable gospel language. Its imagery of thirst, rest, and living water echoes the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman in John 4, where Christ meets human need with an offer of life that never runs dry. The hymn appears in Evangelical Lutheran Worship at ELW 332, placed in the Lent section, and most hymnals trace its origin to Bonar’s early collections such as The Bible Hymn‑Book (1845–1850), where several of his texts first appeared.
Lyrics
1. I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Come unto Me and rest; Lay down, O weary one, lay down Thy head upon My breast.” I came to Jesus as I was, Weary, and worn, and sad; I found in him a resting-place, And he has made me glad.
2. I heard the voice of Jesus say, “Behold, I freely give The living water; thirsty one, Stoop down, and drink, and live.” I came to Jesus, and I drank Of that life-giving stream; My thirst was quench’d, my soul revived, And now I live in him.
3. I heard the voice of Jesus say, “I am this dark world’s Light; Look unto me, your morn shall rise, And all your day be bright.” I looked to Jesus, and I found In him my Star, my Sun; And in that Light of life I’ll walk, Till trav’ling days are done.
The Choir of Trinity College Cambridge is one of the world’s leading collegiate choirs, known for its luminous blend, expressive clarity, and deep roots in the English choral tradition. Made up of around thirty choral scholars and two organ scholars, it sings regular services in Trinity’s historic chapel and maintains an active schedule of touring, broadcasting, and award‑winning recording. Gramophone has ranked it among the top choirs globally, a reputation built on both its centuries‑old heritage and its adventurous, wide‑ranging repertoire.
The latest U.S.–Israeli bombing strikes in the Middle East have stirred that familiar heaviness — the sense that the world might be sliding toward another war. With a soldier in the family for more than twenty years, we have learned to take these moments in stride and not overreact, but they still land hard. In times like this, the heart reaches for words that steady us, which is why Reinhold Niebuhr’s Serenity Prayer still feels so alive. When it first appeared in the 1944 Book of Prayers and Services for the Armed Forces, chaplains used it to help soldiers face fear, uncertainty, and the limits of their own control. But the prayer was never meant for military life alone. Its quiet movement—from accepting what can’t be changed, to acting where we must, to discerning the difference—speaks just as clearly to civilians watching events unfold from a distance yet feeling their weight. In every era of conflict, it offers a way to stay grounded without becoming resigned, and hopeful without becoming naïve.
Protestant Theologian Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time; Enjoying one moment at a time; Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it; Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will; That I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next. Amen.
The Lutheran World Federation—a global communion of Lutheran churches that includes the ELCA—marks four years of accompanying Ukrainians through the trauma and displacement caused by Russia’s full‑scale invasion. Its teams and member churches continue to repair homes, support schools, and provide psychosocial care even as violence intensifies and winter conditions worsen. Ukrainian church leaders express deep gratitude for global solidarity and urge continued support as international funding declines and humanitarian needs grow.
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, and is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
African Methodist Episcopal Church Nicodemus, Kansas
INTRODUCTION
Place names often carry remarkable stories. Founded in 1877 by formerly enslaved people from Kentucky, Nicodemus, Kansas took its name from the biblical figure in Sunday’s Gospel because the settlers saw their new community as a kind of “new birth.” The AME Church, built in 1885, quickly became the town’s spiritual and civic anchor, hosting worship, school lessons, and community gatherings; today it stands within the Nicodemus National Historic Site as a powerful reminder of the faith and resilience that shaped this Reconstruction‑era settlement.
Nicodemus by Tissot, 1850
So who was Nicodemus, and why did his story matter enough to inspire a town’s name in the hinterland of North America? An intriguing character, he appears only in John’s Gospel, and we meet him three times—first in John 3 during his nighttime conversation with Jesus, then in John 7 when he challenges the Pharisees’ rush to judgment, and finally in John 19 when he helps Joseph of Arimathea bury Jesus. A Pharisee steeped in Jewish law, he comes to Jesus under cover of darkness, genuinely seeking to understand what God is doing through him. He senses something divine in Jesus but struggles with the idea of being “born again,” a concept that doesn’t fit his religious framework. His tension exposes how easily religious structures can distract us from Christ himself, a temptation that sits squarely within the First Commandment. Nicodemus wrestles because Jesus is announcing a new reality that stretches beyond conventional Judaism, yet the later references to him show a man changed by the encounter — someone who comes to see Jesus as the Son of God. In that sense, he becomes a mirror for us. And it’s in this same conversation that we hear John 3:16, perhaps the most quoted verse in Scripture. It sounds simple — believe and be saved — but as Lutherans we remember that salvation rests on grace, not on our own effort. That’s why verses 16 and 17 belong together: God enters the world through Christ not to condemn but to save, an expansive promise that includes all of humanity and challenges us every day. Soli deo Gloria!
Thanks for visiting this space again this week! We are now in the 40 days of Lent (46 calendar days, because Sundays are not counted), leading to Holy Week (the first week in April).
Something to think about . . .
“The Christian faith, while wildly misrepresented in so much of American culture, is really about death and resurrection. It’s about how God continues to reach into the graves we dig for ourselves and pull us out, giving us new life, in ways both dramatic and small.”
(Nadia Bolz-Weber, as quoted in Love Outpoured: Devotions for Lent 2026, Augsburg Fortress Publishing).
Themes and Connections The readings for 2 Lent trace a movement of trust: Abram steps into an unknown future on the strength of God’s promise, the psalmist lifts his eyes to the One who guards every step, and Paul insists that such trust—faith apart from works—is the true inheritance of God’s people. Nicodemus’s nighttime conversation with Jesus extends this theme, revealing that new birth and salvation flow not from human effort but from God’s initiative and love. Together, the texts invite a posture of receptive faith that opens us to God’s surprising, life‑giving future.
The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.
Image of the Week: “Christ and Nicodemus“
“Christ and Nicodemus” by Matthias Stom (c.1600 –1652) Dutch-Flemish
Matthias Stom’s depiction of John 3: 1-17 comes from the mid-1600s. Stom was drawn to moments when people were wrestling with big spiritual questions, so Nicodemus’s late‑night conversation was a natural fit for him. In the world Stom inhabited — where the church was urging people toward personal renewal — the scene underscores the heart of the passage: a respected teacher trying to make sense of new birth and the depth of God’s love revealed in Christ. Learn more about the artist here.
This Week’s ELCA Commemorations
There are three ELCA commemorations this week:
Monday 23 February: Polycarp, Bishop of Smyrna, martyr (d. 156) Wednesday 25 February: Elizabeth Fedde, deaconess (d. 1921) Sunday 1 March: George Herbert, hymnwriter (d. 1633)
Elizabeth Fedde (1850-1921)
Norwegian immigrant Elizabeth Fedde played a significant role in the Deaconess movement, a Christian tradition focused on social service and ministry. Drawing from her own experiences and convictions, she championed the idea of women serving in practical, hands-on roles within their communities, particularly in addressing the needs of the poor and marginalized.
Fedde came to Minneapolis in 1888 at the invitation of Midwestern Lutherans who wanted to replicate the deaconess work she had pioneered in Brooklyn. During her brief but influential stay, she founded a deaconess home and helped launch what became the Hospital of the Lutheran Free Church — Deaconess Hospirtal. Her Minneapolis work anchored Lutheran social ministry in the Upper Midwest and shaped care for generations of Norwegian‑American immigrants. Thanks to my pal Rollie Lee for putting me on to Fedde’s story!
“There Is a Balm in Gilead” has long been one of my favorites because my mother, Cathy Rykken, sang it often, and its soaring melody fit her soprano voice beautifully. The song itself grew out of the 19th‑century African American spiritual tradition, drawing on Jeremiah’s question about healing in Gilead and transforming it into a Christian affirmation that Christ restores the “sin‑sick soul.” Included as one of roughly fourteen spirituals in the Evangelical Lutheran Worship hymnal (#614), it isn’t officially a Lenten hymn, yet congregations often sing it during Lent because its message of healing and hope speaks so directly into the season’s themes. My sense is they sang this often in that AME Church in Nicodemus, Kansas!
The interpretation I posted here is remarkable in a couple ways. The sound quality is superb (especially good with headphones), and the style makes it meditative. Enjoy!
The Adventist Vocal Ensemble was a UK‑based broadcast choir led by Ken Burton, known for its polished hymn arrangements and frequent appearances on the BBC’s Songs of Praise. The recording I’ve posted comes from 2013, during the group’s most active period. Their website hasn’t been updated since 2016, so the ensemble may no longer be active as a formal performing group, or they may have merged with another ensemble.
Prayer Meditation: Psalm 121
Psalm 121, one of the “Songs of Ascents,” likely accompanied pilgrims on their climb to Jerusalem and speaks with steady confidence about God’s protective care. It has long been my favorite. Known as “The Traveler’s Psalm,” my father requested it for his funeral in 2013, echoing his saying that “we’re all just traveling through.” I later learned it had been read at his father’s funeral as well, a quiet thread of faith that binds our family across generations. The accompanying prayer reflects the Psalm.
God, you know the roads we walk and the ones we can’t yet see. Lift our eyes when we grow tired, and steady us with the promise that you never drift off or look away. Watch over our coming and going today—every step, every conversation, every quiet moment—and keep us rooted in the trust that you travel with us. Amen.
Going Beyond (Faith At Work)
1960s Lutheran Humor
If you grew up within the tradition of 1950s and 60s Lutheranism, these cartoons by Charles Schultz resonate!Schultz had a gift.
Join Us for Worship and Study
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, and is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
Welcome to Two Worlds! (Year A: Ash Wednesday and 1 Lent)
“In a social mileiu so tuned to chronos, it can be difficult to imagine ourselves as participants in a drama enacted in kairos and so learn to view the events around us from this eternal perspective. . . Calibrating ourselves — body, soul, and mind — to the liturgical calendar may not seem like something that would change our relationship to the news. But there is a profound, insidious kind of formation that happens when the first thing we do in the morning is to reach for a smartphone to find out what new thing occurred while we were sleeping. Such habits form the horizon of meaning by which we judge the significance of our daily life and actions. Structuring our days and weeks instead around Christ orients us to his story and equips us to fit the news of our day into the redemptive pattern of his life and work.“
(Dr. Jeffrey Bilbro, Grove City College, Pennsylvania)
INTRODUCTION
Author Jeffrey Bilbro has me thinking about how we experience time and further, how time shapes our “horizon of meaning.” In the Greek tradition, chronos and kairos name two very different ways of moving through our days: chronos is the clock — think minutes, deadlines, schedules — while kairos is the charged moment of openness — the kind of time that feels alive with meaning. Early Christians, shaped by Greek language and thought, naturally used this distinction to describe how God works both in history and in the moments that break it open. When we lean too hard into chronos, we lose our sense of kairos and allow the gatekeepers of chronos — especially the relentless news cycle — to define our reality. Chronos keeps us busy; kairos keeps us awake. Hold that tension as you enter the readings this week.
Emperor Constantine the Great (272-337 CE)
And, here is some background on the next season in our church year. Lent — from the Old English lencten, meaning springtime — has deep roots in Christian practice. The 40‑day season took shape after 313 CE, when Constantine embraced Christianity, and the Council of Nicea in 325 helped solidify its rhythms. The number forty echoes through Scripture: Moses on Sinai, Elijah’s journey to Horeb, Jesus fasting in the wilderness. On Wednesday, many of us will receive ashes in the sign of the cross, a gesture of humility and mortality (Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris). Luther himself kept Ash Wednesday, even as some early reformers dismissed it as too “Catholic.” Today, the Day of Ashes is observed across much of Western Christianity. Like many of you, I grew up with Lenten customs –classmates giving up chips or soda, small acts of self‑denial that sometimes felt more dutiful than transformative. In my home, the emphasis fell less on “giving something up” and more on tending the inner life. I once heard Lent described as “spring cleaning for our souls,” and that phrase has stayed with me. It suggests clearing space for kairos — those openings where grace can slip past the noise and do its quiet work.
Eternity (Terra Antigua) by Shirley Jones
As we step into this season, I feel the pull of chronos more than ever — the rush, the headlines, the constant sense that whatever just flashed across a screen deserves my whole attention. Lent invites something different. It asks us to slow down enough to notice the openings, the preparation, the quiet work of God that rarely announces itself. In a world shaped by chronos, Lent remains one of the church’s oldest ways of reclaiming kairos.
Thanks for visiting this space and my hope is that the blog helps you frame the readings each week! I am experimenting with formatting, and it remains a work in progress. Please feel free to contact me with any feedback. My contact information is included on my homepage.
(Note: Check out the short video in “Going Beyond” for more on these time dimensions in our lives).
Marcus Aurelius’ well‑known reminder — “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do and say and think” — captures a truth that aligns closely with the Christian beginning of Lent. Genesis 3:19 offers its own stark wisdom: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Both statements call us to live with clarity, humility, and a deeper awareness of what truly matters.
The links to the right allow for easy navigation of the various components of the blog. Enjoy!
The readings for Ash Wednesday call God’s people to return with honest hearts—turning from pretense, self‑reliance, and public displays of piety toward the mercy that alone can renew us. Together they remind us that true repentance is an inward turning shaped by God’s grace, a way of life that endures hardship yet trusts that now—this moment—is the acceptable time for transformation.
What is something NEW? What is something that made you REFLECT? What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge? What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
Themes and Connections
The texts for 1 Lent trace the deep human struggle with temptation –from the garden’s first turning away to Jesus’ faithful resistance in the wilderness — and reveal how sin distorts our desires and burdens our lives. Together they proclaim that God meets us in our weakness with forgiveness and new possibility, so that in Christ’s obedience we are drawn from hiding and fear into restored relationship and renewed life.
The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.
Image of the Week
“Christ in the Wilderness” by Russian painter Ivan Kramskoy (1872)
Martin Luther died in the early morning hours of February 18, 1546, 480 years ago this week. He was in his hometown of Eisleben, where he had traveled to help settle a local dispute. His final hours were lucid and peaceful, marked by confession of faith and the presence of his longtime colleague Justus Jonas, who recorded the details to counter later rumors. After his death, Luther’s body was taken back to Wittenberg, where large crowds gathered to honor the reformer who had reshaped the Christian world.
Musical Meditation
“Jesus Is a Rock in a Weary Land” is one of roughly fourteen African American spirituals included in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, a small but meaningful witness to this tradition within the hymnal. Emerging from the late‑19th‑century spiritual repertoire and carried into wider circulation by groups like the Fisk Jubilee Singers, the hymn draws on vivid biblical images of God as refuge and strength — images born from both Scripture and the lived experience of Black communities seeking hope amid hardship. Its rhythmic, refrain‑driven character places it at the crossroads of spirituals and early gospel, making it deeply singable across traditions. In ELW it appears among the Lenten hymns (#333), a placement that highlights how its central metaphor — the “weary land” — speaks to themes of vulnerability, endurance, and trust in God’s sustaining presence during the church’s season of reflection and return.
I hope you will enjoy this interpretation of the song performed by the combined choirs of The Middle Church in New York City.
Middle Church is a lively, justice‑driven congregation in Manhattan’s East Village, known for its big‑hearted, multicultural community and its commitment to what it calls “revolutionary love.” Under the leadership of the Rev. Dr. Jacqui Lewis, it’s become a spiritual home for people across backgrounds—deeply rooted in Christian tradition while fully embracing LGBTQ+ inclusion, anti‑racism, and social healing. It’s as much a movement as a church, with worship, activism, and digital ministry all woven together to create a community that reaches far beyond New York City.
O God, who knowest us to be set in the midst of so many and great dangers, that by reason of the frailty of our nature we cannot always stand upright, grant to us such strength and protection as may support us in all dangers and carry us through all temptations, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Frontpiece, Galesian Sacramentary
Some background . . .
The Gelasian Sacramentary is one of the earliest surviving Western liturgical books, compiled in the 7th or early 8th century and traditionally (though inaccurately) attributed to Pope Gelasius I. Rather than a single author’s work, it represents a collection of Roman and Gallican prayers that were gradually shaped into a usable liturgical resource for priests. It later influenced the development of the Gregorian Sacramentary and helped form the backbone of Western eucharistic and pastoral prayer traditions.
Source: A Barclay Prayer Book (2003). This is a compilation of prayers for the liturgical year.
Access the Homepage of Two Worlds here (linked to the picture).
I offer more background there and also the entire archive of the first three years.
Join Us for Worship and Study
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, and is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
Welcome to Two Worlds! (Year A: Transfiguration Sunday)
“The same thing should happen here in the Christian Church; none other should be preached or taught except the Son of God alone. Of Him alone it is said, ‘This is My beloved Son; listen to Him’ (Matthew 17:5) and no other, be he emperor, pope, or cardinal. Therefore, this is what I say: I grant that emperor, pope, cardinals, princes, and nobles are wise and understanding, but I shall believe in Christ. He is my Lord. He is the one God bids me to listen to. From Him He bids me to learn what real, divine wisdom and understanding are.” (Martin Luther, 15 February 1546)
Mount Tabor, Israel
INTRODUCTION
“Listen to him!” lands with force. Scripture’s mountaintop moments — think Moses on Sinai, Abraham on Moriah, Elijah on Carmel, to name a few — form the backdrop for the Transfiguration, where Jesus leads Peter, James, and John up the mountain and stands before them in blazing light. His face shines like the sun, his clothes radiate, Moses and Elijah appear, and the cloud’s voice names him: “This is my Son, the Beloved… listen to him.” Jesus then steadies the startled disciples and guides them back down into the world. That same command surfaced again centuries later in Martin Luther’s final sermon, preached in Eisleben three days before his death. Weakened by illness yet unwavering in conviction, he urged his hearers to center their lives in Christ alone — Sola Christus — not as a slogan but as a way of seeing. The mountain and the pulpit converge in that summons: light that reorients, a voice that cuts through every rival claim, and a call to follow the one who transforms us and sends us back into the world carrying that light.
Welcome to Two Worlds, and thanks for stopping by. Each week this space offers a bit of grounding for the four readings from the Revised Common Lectionary. As Epiphany draws to a close, it’s worth noticing the arc of the season: it opens with the Magi following a star to the Christ child and ends with the dazzling vision on Mount Tabor. And with that, we stand at the threshold of Lent, ready to enter the unfolding drama of the story ahead.
I utilized a reflection by Professor John T. Pless from the 1517 Website for the information regarding Luther’s final sermon.
After completing the full three‑year Revised Common Lectionary cycle begun in February 2023, I’m shifting this blog to a refreshed format. Much will feel familiar, but a few new features stand out.
First, the Table of Contents on the right now helps you navigate the site. Second, the scripture readings are linked for quick access. Third, a new section — Going Beyond — offers additional resources to deepen your engagement.
The blog remains a work in progress, and any errors are mine.
The Transfiguration readings center on God revealing divine glory and naming the beloved Son as the one we are called to hear. Sinai’s fire, Psalm 2’s royal claim, and 2 Peter’s witness all converge in the radiance of Christ. That revelation sends the disciples—and the church—back into the world shaped by what they have seen and heard.
Try the Four-Question Approach to the Readings
What is something NEW?
What is something that made you REFLECT?
What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.
Image of the Week
The Transfiguration by Carl Heinrich Bloch (1834–1890)
Cyril (d.869) and Methodius (d.885) were ninth‑century brothers whose mission to the Slavic peoples shaped the religious and cultural landscape of Eastern Europe. They created the first Slavic alphabet and translated Scripture and liturgy so people could worship in their own language. Their work eventually gave rise to the Cyrillic script and established a lasting vernacular Christian tradition. Both East and West honor them as saints who embodied a generous, culturally rooted vision of the gospel.
Musical Meditation: “I Am Light” (India Arie)
India Arie’s “I Am Light” reminds me of Matthew’s Transfiguration account because both name a transformation rooted in God’s love rather than in human striving. On the mountain, Jesus’ radiance reveals the truth already alive in him, and that revelation becomes a promise for us: in Christ, God’s love reshapes who we are and how we see ourselves. Both the gospel moment and the song remind us that this light is not meant to stay on the mountain; we carry it with us as we return to the world, living out the transformation God has begun. I hope you will enjoy this interpretation of the song performed by the Vancouver Youth Choir!
India Arie (b. 1975)
The Vancouver Youth Choir is one of Canada’s most acclaimed youth choral organizations, known for its high artistic standards and inclusive community. Founded in 2013 by artistic director Carrie Tennant, it now includes more than 700 singers ages 5–24 across multiple ensembles and is recognized for adventurous programming and innovative performances. The flagship choir has earned national and international attention, with highlights that include first prize in the Canadian National Choral Competition and appearances at major festivals and venues such as the IFCM World Symposium on Choral Music and Carnegie Hall.
O God, in the transfiguration of your Son you confirmed the mysteries of the faith by witnesses of Moses and Elijah, and in the voice from the bright cloud declaring Jesus your beloved Son, you foreshadowed our adoption as your children. Make us heirs with Christ of your glory, and bring us to enjoy its fulness, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Some background . . .
The collects in Evangelical Lutheran Worship (ELW) come from a blend of historic and ecumenical sources. Most are rooted in the classic Western liturgical tradition — especially the ancient Latin sources — and many were carried forward through the Lutheran Reformation into later hymnals. Others were shaped or newly crafted through the modern ecumenical work of the Consultation on Common Texts and the ELW worship committees, who adapted traditional prayers and composed new ones for clarity, theological coherence, and contemporary use.
Going Beyond
Further Exploration
Richard Lischer is an author and professor emeritus at the Duke Divinity School. In the following essay, he provides great insights into the Transfiguration story.
Access the Homepage of Two Worlds here (linked to the picture).
I offer more background there and also the entire archive of the first three years.
Join Us for Worship and Study
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Black River Falls, Wisconsin, and is part of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin (ELCA). We stream our Sunday worship at 9:30 each week. Please feel free to join us!
“The past teaches us that the role of memory in identity formation is profound. Remembering who we really are is a sacred act. Histories are never objective, are always complicated, and are most often contested. We don’t have to look beyond our own families to know how often people respond to another’s memories with, “Well, that’s not how I remember it happening.” Both truths sit beside each other. Though memory is always haunted by the possibility of forgetting, it is the very act of remembering that fortifies our identity and reminds us who we are.” (Jennifer T. Kaalund)
Jennifer Kaalund’s words feel like an apt doorway into this final entry of a three‑year experiment. When I began walking through Years A, B, and C of the Revised Common Lectionary in February of 2023, it was simply a way to understand the weekly rhythm of readings more deeply. I didn’t know where it would lead. But staying open — to scholars and pastors, to poets and historians, to voices outside my own tradition — became its own kind of spiritual practice. Week by week, I found myself learning from perspectives I hadn’t expected and discovering how wide the conversation of faith really is.
So what have I learned? Many things, of course. But one truth rises to the surface as I close this chapter: our faith is rooted in history, and through Scripture we are in conversation with people across centuries. Their memories, their questions, their hopes still meet us in the text. And it is our responsibility to remain rooted in those memories and to carry them forward with care. Christianity emerged from the deep roots of Judaism, yet it also opened a profoundly liberating moment in human history. That tension — continuity and newness, memory and transformation — remains compelling to me as a historian. When we stay open, history doesn’t confine us. It grounds us, enriches us, and sometimes even sets us free. As I get ready to turn the page and move this blog into its next season, one truth stays with me: remembering who we are matters, and it’s something we do side by side.
Second, in the past 36 months, I have realized over and over again that knowledge of the Bible is an infinite process. A metaphor: let’s imagine Lake Superior represents the full understanding of God’s Word. Now picture me walking around with a small pail of water — that is what I know!
And one other thing. I remain convinced that we have much work to do as a society in how we experience the news of our world day to day — this feels like a recurring theme for me. I have spent my adult life trying to figure this out and how to relay it to students. The intersection of our spiritual lives with the complexities of our world remains a challenge, one that I suspect we share with our Christian ancestors across time. In that regard, let me point you to a terrific meditation I stumbled on this week from a woman named Peggy Haslar. I commend it to your reading this week — I linked it here.
The opening excerpt is from Jennifer T. Kaalund’s article from The Christian Century, 4 December 2025. I have since read several other pieces from her — a terrific scholar and writer.
Commemorations This Week
Unk Rykken (1943)
Bishop Ansgar (801-865)
Thanks for visiting this space again this week and for your participation in this experiment! And let’s try to wrap our heads around this: By the time you may be reading this, Ash Wednesday is two weeks away! Hard to believe!
We have three commemorations on the ELCA calendar this week: The Presentation of Our Lord on Monday (2 February), Ansgar, Bishop of Hamburg, missionary to Denmark and Sweden on Tuesday (3 February), and the Martyrs of Japan on Thursday (5 February). Ansgar is of particular interest to me owing to the fact that my father’s name was Thorwald Ansgar and his rough attempts to “say” his middle name as a child (“Unksgar”) led to his nickname (“Unk”). My grandfather, also Thor, named his son for the Nordic pagan god and the Bishop who later Christianized Norway (go figure), something that always brought a good laugh from Unk. As they say, “you can’t make it up!” Oh, these ancestors of mine . . . .
Note: I include a few links within the blog — italicized and bolded — for further information on various topics.
Changes Coming Soon With the Lectionary Blog!
This week’s post wraps up the three‑year lectionary cycle we started back in February 2023. Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will shift to a simpler design and a new name—Two Worlds—as part of a renewed focus on digital ministry and easier online engagement. Since I’m discontinuing the mailing list, you’ll need to subscribe directly through WordPress to keep receiving posts at no cost: enter your email near the bottom of the page, confirm the message WordPress sends, and you’re set. If the confirmation email goes missing, check your spam folder, and remember you can adjust your settings anytime through the “Manage Subscription” link. And for anyone on the old mailing list who runs into trouble, just send me a note — I can add you manually. If you go or stay, thanks again for your participation!
Luther’s Approach to Reading the Bible — Give it a try!
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer) The journey begins with humble prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to open one’s heart to Scripture. For Luther, prayer clears the ground so God’s wisdom can take root.
Meditatio (Meditation) Meditation means more than reading. It’s the slow, repeated turning of Scripture over in the mind — “chewing” on the Word until it shapes one’s imagination, habits, and decisions.
Tentatio (Struggle) Struggle is the crucible of faith. As believers try to live out God’s Word, they meet resistance — inner conflict, doubt, temptation, and suffering. Luther insisted that these trials are not signs of failure but the very means by which God deepens and strengthens faith.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
The readings for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany converge around the truth that authentic faith is revealed through a life shaped by God’s light, wisdom, and justice. Isaiah insists that true worship is inseparable from acts of mercy — loosening the bonds of oppression, sharing bread with the hungry, and rebuilding what has been broken — promising that God’s light dawns precisely through such compassion. Psalm 112 echoes this vision, portraying the righteous as people whose generosity, steadiness, and justice make them shine in the darkness. Paul reminds the Corinthians that this way of life is grounded not in human brilliance but in the Spirit’s wisdom, which reveals the mind of Christ and reorients the believer’s imagination. In Matthew, Jesus calls his followers salt and light, urging them to embody God’s purposes so visibly and faithfully that their lives fulfill the law by directing others toward the One who gives life.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for 5 Epiphany.” 28 January 2026.
Focus: The First Reading (Isaiah) and the Gospel (Matthew)
The First Reading (Isaiah)
Shout out; do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. 2 Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments; they want God on their side.[a] 3 “Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day and oppress all your workers. 4 You fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high. 5 Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the Lord?
6 Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the straps of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? 7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them and not to hide yourself from your own kin? 8 Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator[b] shall go before you; the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard. 9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, “Here I am.”
Question for Discussion
Isaiah and Jesus both insist that faith must take visible shape in the world. When you think about your own daily rhythms—how you speak, give, work, or show up—where do you sense an invitation to be “salt and light” in a concrete way?
Matthew’s community was navigating profound loss and uncertainty after the destruction of the Temple. In our own moment, when public life feels frayed, what practices help you stay grounded in God’s story rather than the anxiety of the moment?
The Gospel (Matthew)
13 “You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything but is thrown out and trampled under foot.
14 “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15 People do not light a lamp and put it under the bushel basket; rather, they put it on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.
17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19 Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Reflection: “Living the Story We Inherit”
Jesus Teaching in Galilee (A.I. Generated, 2023)
We find ourselves back on that hillside this week, listening again to the young teacher whose ministry is already turning heads. Matthew wants us to see more than a gifted preacher; he wants us to hear the deep echoes of Israel’s story in Jesus’ words. Remember, he’s writing for a predominantly Jewish‑Christian community — people who know their Scriptures, people who carry the weight of their history. It’s no accident that Matthew nods to Isaiah again and again. Scholars point out that he quotes Isaiah explicitly eight times and alludes to him far more. Matthew is stitching Jesus’ ministry directly into the prophetic fabric his audience already trusts. And that audience, most likely hearing this Gospel sometime around 80–90 CE, is still living in the long shadow of Rome’s destruction of the Temple in 70 CE. They know what it feels like to have their world shaken by a foreign oppressor. They know what it means to wonder how faith survives when the center of worship has been torn down. Into that landscape, Matthew brings Isaiah’s voice back to life — and lets Jesus carry it forward.
A Winter Sun Over Green Bay, Wisconsin
That’s why Isaiah 58 and Matthew 5 sit so naturally together. Both insist that faith has to look like something in the real world. Isaiah pushes hard against any version of religion that stays tucked safely inside the sanctuary. He says light breaks forth when people loosen the chains around others, share what they have, and repair what’s broken. Jesus picks up that same thread in Matthew 5. He tells his followers that they become salt and light when their lives actually reflect God’s justice and mercy — not by tossing out the Law and the Prophets, but by living them more deeply. It’s a word we need right now, when public life feels frayed and trust runs thin. Isaiah and Jesus both remind us that the world still hungers for people whose everyday choices — how they speak, give, vote, work, and show up — help others see a little more clearly and breathe a little easier. In a moment when many feel unmoored, these texts call us back to the simple, steady practices that reveal God’s character in ordinary life. They invite us to become the kind of people whose faith doesn’t just shine in worship but spills out into the world in ways that heal, restore, and illuminate. May we walk in that light.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Musical Meditation: “O Emmanuel”
Andrej Makor
“O Emmanuel” by Andrej Makoris one of those newer choral works that somehow feels ancient and immediate at the same time. The text comes from the final O Antiphon, part of that centuries‑old sequence of Advent prayers the church sings from December 17–23—each one naming Christ with a different title and carrying its own kind of longing. Makor, a Slovenian composer born in 1987, has a real gift for taking these old liturgical roots and opening them up with fresh harmonic color. He starts with the simple chant for “O Emmanuel,” then slowly lets it bloom into layered harmonies that the hope of Advent. And, yes, we are in the season of Epiphany and this is Advent focused, but it speaks powerfully to our time!
Lyrics
O Emmanuel, our King and Legislator, expected by the nations, come to save us, O Lord.
The Seven Antiphons
O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
O Adonai
O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
O Clavis David (O Key of David)
O Oriens (O Dawn of the East)
O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)
O Emmanuel
Under the directorship of André van der Merwe the SU Choir has built a national and international reputation as a choir of exceptional excellence that delivers performances celebrated for their rigorous technical accomplishment and the ability to touch the hearts of audiences everywhere.
The artistic dimension of the choir continues to deepen as it shares the soul of South Africa on both the local and international stage. Stellenbosch University regards the SU Choir as one of its foremost ambassadors of excellence and testament to the power of music to bring about understanding of our world and those who share it with us.
“The agenda of our world – the issues and items that fill newspapers and newscasts – is an agenda of fear and power. It is amazing, yes frightening, to see how easily that agenda becomes ours. The things and people we think about, worry about, reflect upon, prepare ourselves for, and spend time and energy on are in large part determined by a world which seduces us into accepting its fearful questions…. A huge network of anxious questions surrounds us and begins to guide many, if not most of our daily decisions. Clearly, those who can pose those fearful questions which bind us within, have true power over us….”
Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)
Some people just know how to write, and Henri Nouwen was one of them. I’ve quoted him dozens of times in this blog over the past three years because he had a way of naming the inner life with clarity and grace. Though he died in 1996, his voice still feels uncannily tuned to the struggles and hopes of our own moment. Nouwen reminds us that honesty, vulnerability, and compassion never go out of style—they’re the language the soul still understands. The quote offered above showed up in my inbox on Sunday. Let it sink in and guide your prayers this week.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year.
“We live in a world of nuclear giants and ethical infants, in a world that has achieved brilliance without wisdom, power without conscience. We have solved the mystery of the atom and forgotten the lessons of the Sermon on the Mount. We know more about war than we know about peace, more about dying than we know about living.” (Omar N. Bradley)
Omar Bradley’s words stopped me in my tracks this week as I dug into the Sermon on the Mount. His climb from poverty to West Point’s famed Class of 1915 is striking, but what grips me even more is this: those who knew war best — Bradley, Eisenhower, and countless veterans I’ve spoken with (including both my father and son) — never romanticized it. They approached conflict with steady, unvarnished realism, treating it as a grim duty rather than a platform for ego, and they carried the weight of their comrades’ lives with humility and moral gravity. Ike’s Farewell Address drives that truth home with unmistakable force.
Bradley’s spiritual background is striking. His early faith formation in the Stone–Campbell tradition, rooted in the Second Great Awakening, shaped his outlook even though he apparently showed little overt religious practice later in life. Growing up in small Church of Christ and Christian Church congregations, he absorbed a faith grounded in simplicity, integrity, and personal responsibility. Those early convictions — especially humility and the value of every human life — quietly guided his leadership and surfaced in the way he bore the burdens of command. His nod to the Sermon on the Mount reflects that deep moral grounding.
Upcoming Commemorations
Lydia of Thyatira by Harold Copping
Thanks for visiting this space again this week and for your ongoing interest in exploring the Lectionary! There are several commemorations included in our church calendar in the days ahead: missionaries Timothy, Titus and Silas on 25 January, Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe — witnesses to the faith — on 26 January, and teacher Thomas Aquinas who died on 28 January in 1274. Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe offer a clear glimpse into how the early church grew through the faith and leadership of everyday women. Lydia, the first recorded convert in Europe, opened her home in Philippi, creating a gathering place for believers. Dorcas, known for her steady compassion in Joppa, cared for widows and became so cherished that her death moved the whole community. Phoebe, a deacon from Cenchreae, carried Paul’s letter to the Romans and served as both patron and teacher. Together they show the gospel taking root through generosity, service, and the quiet strength of women woven into the life of the early church.
Thomas Aquinas by Crivelli, 1476
St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) is best known for the Summa Theologiae, his clear and comprehensive effort to bring Christian faith and classical philosophy into a coherent whole. Born into a noble family in 13th‑century Italy, he surprised his relatives by joining the Dominican order, choosing a life of study, preaching, and disciplined simplicity over the political and ecclesial power expected of him. He argued that faith and reason ultimately work together, giving the church a way to think that is both intellectually serious and spiritually grounded.
Note: I include a few links within the blog — italicized and bolded — for further information on various topics.
Changes Coming Soon With the Lectionary Blog!
This week’s post is the penultimate entry in the three‑year lectionary cycle we began together in February of 2023, and it comes with a quick update about what’s ahead. Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will take on a simpler design and a new name — Two Worlds — as part of a renewed commitment to digital ministry and more intentional use of online tools for learning, reflection, and future offerings (I have been transitioning to the new name already). Because I am discontinuing the mailing list,you will need to subscribe directly through WordPress to keep receiving new posts at no cost: enter your email in the subscription box near the bottom, confirm the message WordPress sends, and you’ll receive updates automatically. If the confirmation email doesn’t appear, check your spam folder, and remember that you can manage your subscription anytime through the “Manage Subscription” link at the bottom of any email. One other note: Those who have been on the mailing list and are having trouble with the subscription process, feel free to email me because I am able to add subscribers manually on my end.
Try Luther’s Approach to Reading Again This Week!
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer) The journey begins with humble prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to open one’s heart to Scripture. For Luther, prayer clears the ground so God’s wisdom can take root.
Meditatio (Meditation) Meditation means more than reading. It’s the slow, repeated turning of Scripture over in the mind — “chewing” on the Word until it shapes one’s imagination, habits, and decisions.
Tentatio (Struggle) Struggle is the crucible of faith. As believers try to live out God’s Word, they meet resistance — inner conflict, doubt, temptation, and suffering. Luther insisted that these trials are not signs of failure but the very means by which God deepens and strengthens faith.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
The readings for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany call God’s people to a way of life shaped by humility, justice, and deep trust. Micah urges the community to abandon empty religious performance and actively practice justice, kindness, and humble companionship with God. The psalmist describes a life of integrity in which truthfulness, generosity, and moral steadiness create a dwelling place in God’s presence. Paul reminds the Corinthians that God overturns human standards of power and wisdom, choosing what seems weak or foolish to reveal the heart of the gospel. In the Beatitudes, Jesus blesses the poor, the meek, the merciful, and the peacemakers, inviting disciples into a kingdom where God’s surprising grace reshapes both character and community.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for 4 Epiphany.” 22 January 2026.
Focus Readings: Micah and Matthew
The First Reading (Micah)
Hear what the Lord says: Rise, plead your case before the mountains, and let the hills hear your voice. 2 Hear, you mountains, the case of the Lord, and you enduring foundations of the earth, for the Lord has a case against his people, and he will contend with Israel.
3 “O my people, what have I done to you? In what have I wearied you? Answer me! 4 For I brought you up from the land of Egypt and redeemed you from the house of slavery, and I sent before you Moses, Aaron, and Miriam. 5 O my people, remember now what King Balak of Moab devised, what Balaam son of Beor answered him, and what happened from Shittim to Gilgal, that you may know the saving acts of the Lord.”
6 “With what shall I come before the Lord and bow myself before God on high? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old? 7 Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” 8 He has told you, O mortal, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice and to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God?
Question for Discussion
If the Kingdom of God is already present among us, what practices, priorities, or relationships might need to shift so that we participate more fully in the world Jesus describes on that hillside?
Which of the other Beatitudes (besides number 3) speaks to you most powerfully at this moment in your faith journey?
The Gospel (Matthew)
5 When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. 2 And he began to speak and taught them, saying:
3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
5“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
6 “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
7 “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
8 “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
9 “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
11 “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Reflection: The Mountain Where Everything Shifts
The readings for 4 Epiphany speak to one another with surprising clarity. Even without turning to Micah, that familiar line from 6:8 frames the Sermon on the Mount with unmistakable force: do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God. And every time I sit with this text (and many others), I feel that familiar hesitation: What can I possibly add? Few passages expose my limits like this one. The Sermon on the Mount sits at the center of Christian imagination, and every generation has returned to it for guidance, challenge, and hope.
The Sermon on the Mount by Jan Brueghel the Elder, 1598
First, some context. Matthew places this moment at a decisive turning point. Jesus has just begun his ministry in Galilee — teaching, healing, gathering disciples. Crowds are swelling. Expectations are rising. Before anything grows larger, Jesus climbs the mountain and lays out the heart of his message. Matthew presents this as Jesus’ authoritative teaching, the roadmap for life in God’s reign. (Sidebar: Mark offers nothing like it, and Luke’s Sermon on the Plain is shorter and sharper). Matthew casts Jesus as a new Moses, ascending the mountain to speak God’s will with clarity and compassion. Before the miracles, before the parables, before the conflicts, Jesus opens a window into the Kingdom of Heaven.(An interesting note here about the Brueghel painting — the artist clearly imagines this moment within the context of 16th Century Europe!)
Jesus Teaching in Galilee (A.I. Generated, 2023)
Then come those beatitudes. They are not commands or moral checklists. They are declarations — bold, often unsettling announcements about where God’s blessing actually rests. Jesus names the people the world overlooks and calls them blessed. That alone disrupts our assumptions. But he goes further: he overturns the entire value system we take for granted. Power, wealth, status, and self‑sufficiency do not define the good life in God’s kingdom. Instead, Jesus blesses those who know their need, those who grieve, those who hunger for justice, those who practice mercy, those who make peace. The first beatitude always stops me. “Poor in spirit” often gets softened into a vague spiritual humility, but Matthew — and the world Jesus inhabited — pushes us toward something far more concrete. New Testament scholar Warren Carter describes the “poor in spirit” as “people who are materially poor and whose spirits are crushed by economic injustice, deprivation of resources, and few options.” Their poverty reaches into every corner of their lives — financial, emotional, social, existential. Their capacity to hope has been worn thin. (Sidebar: It is striking, isn’t it, that many in the Christian community argue for a placement of the Ten Commandments in public spaces, including school classrooms, yet I have never heard the same passion for placing the Beatitudes in public spaces, but I digress!)
My life in the classroom often meant encountering students who fit that description. And in recent weeks, I’ve met several people in our community who are homeless — navigating cold nights, scarce resources, and systems that seem designed to drain them. Carter’s words describe them exactly. If Jesus calls such people blessed, then our response cannot remain theoretical. How do we stand with those whose lives reflect the very conditions Jesus names? How do we resist the temptation to spiritualize his words and instead let them reshape our priorities, our compassion, our advocacy, our generosity? To be “poor in spirit” is a condition Jesus sees with powerful empathy and urgency. And if the kingdom belongs to such as these, then our calling becomes unmistakable: recognize their dignity, listen to their stories, meet immediate needs when we can, and work for a world where fewer spirits are crushed by injustice.
Pastor Jen Hatleli
So, let us return to that hillside and sit with our Christian ancestors, listening to the young man whose emergence we are witnessing—what is he saying to us in 2026? In our lectionary gathering on Sunday, Pastor Jen emphasized that within the ELCA, our view is that the Kingdom of God is already present among us. If that is true — and I believe it is — then these blessings are not abstract ideals. They are invitations. They call us to align our lives with God’s priorities, to stand with the people Jesus names, and to participate — actively, courageously –in the world God is bringing to life right now.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: Once again, this week, I drew from Warren Carter’s commentary on this passage (1 February 2026), accessed through Working Preacher (Luther Seminary). Carter is a New Testament professor in Tulsa, Oklahoma.
Musical Meditation: “This is My Father’s World“
Euiju Cheong
M.D. Babcock
Maltbie Davenport Babcock (1858–1901), a Presbyterian pastor known for his love of nature, often took long walks near his home in Lockport, New York, telling his wife he was going out “to see my Father’s world.” Those walks inspired a sixteen‑stanza poem he titled My Father’s World, published only after his unexpected death in 1901 (the lyrics provided below represent only a portion of the poem and are included in the ELW, page 824). It may be that the poem was inspired as he looked out over Lake Ontario. His friend Franklin L. Sheppard later selected several stanzas and set them to an English folk melody his mother had taught him, creating the tune now known as Terra Beata. The hymn first appeared in a 1915 Presbyterian Sunday school hymnal and quickly became a staple of American worship. Its enduring appeal lies in Babcock’s blend of wonder, trust, and the conviction that creation itself sings of God’s presence. The jazz interpretation of the hymn offered here is by a jazz pianist name Euiju Cheong, also known as Jazz Jane. Enjoy — and may I suggest listening with headphones if available!
Lyrics
This is my Father’s world, And to my list’ning ears All nature sings, and round me rings The music of the spheres. This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas— His hand the wonders wrought.
This is my Father’s world: The birds their carols raise, The morning light, the lily white, Declare their Maker’s praise. This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair; In the rustling grass I hear Him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.
This is my Father’s world: Oh, let me ne’er forget That though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet. This is my Father’s world, Why should my heart be sad? The Lord is King, let heaven ring; God reigns, let earth be glad!
Jazz Jane is the performing name of contemporary jazz pianist and composer Euiju Cheong, known for her intimate, improvisational style. She has built a strong following through YouTube performances that embrace the beauty of unpolished, human playing. Her work ranges from jazz standards to reflective ballads, many which have a Christian focus.
Within the three-year lectionary cycle, I have referenced Henri Nouwen, I suspect, dozens of times. Though he departed this earth twenty years ago, his writings live on. This one comes from a recent Daily Meditation I received from the Nouwen Society and speaks to our present moment — how do we navigate the intersection of faith and politics, especially in a polarized moment?
Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)
“Receptivity and confrontation are the two inseparable sides of Christian witness. They have to remain in careful balance. Receptivity without confrontation leads to a bland neutrality that serves nobody. Confrontation without receptivity leads to an oppressive aggression, which hurts everybody. This balance between receptivity and confrontation is found at different points, depending upon our individual position in life. But in every life situation, we not only have to receive, but also to confront.“
Heavenly Father, You see the fractures that run through our world and through our communities. Teach us the hard balance Nouwen names—hearts open enough to receive one another, and courage strong enough to confront what harms or divides. Keep us from the neutrality that avoids truth and from confrontation without love. Shape us into people who bridge divides without losing the center of our faith, so that our witness reflects the grace and truth of Christ, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year.
“Imagination is hearing the silence because we have heard some of the sounds . . . Our imagination to see the past as it actually was has to return to the past in its own present, with all the possibilities of its future still in it, with all its uncertainties . . .” (Greg Dening)
Historian Greg Dening (1931-2008)
The call of those first disciples has always pulled at my imagination. Matthew gives us only a few spare words — “Follow me” — and leaves the rest in silence, offering no glimpse of what these fishermen thought or said as their lives abruptly tilted in a new direction. What conversations rose in those homes and workplaces as they tried to make sense of such a sudden call? In a 1996 keynote address titled Empowering Imaginations, Greg Dening argued that such silences for historians are never empty; they open a doorway into a world not our own. Matthew wrote for readers who already understood the force of Jesus’ call, the grind of daily labor, and the deep hunger for something more. When we attend to these silences, we begin to see the disciples as real people stepping into an uncertain future, not characters locked into a script. Their quick response becomes a moment charged with courage and possibility — an invitation to listen for the unspoken depths in our own stories of calling. More on both the Isaiah and Matthew passages in my reflections below.
Commemorations this Week
Saint Agnes (c. 291-304)
Thanks for visiting this space again this week and for your continuted interest in exploring the Lectionary! Three commemorations shape the ELCA calendar this week: Henry of Uppsala on January 19, Agnes of Rome on January 21, and the Conversion of Paul on January 25. St. Agnes’s story strikes with particular force. A young Christian of noble birth, she faced the brutal persecutions of Emperor Diocletian around 304, refusing powerful suitors and standing firm in her faith even when it meant death. Her unwavering witness as a virgin martyr lifted her into the heart of Christian memory, where communities across the world still honor her each January 21.
Note: I include a few links within the blog — italicized and bolded — for further information on various topics.
Also, Dr. Dening’s speech, Empowering Imaginations, was offered at the eleventh Pacific History Association conference at Hilo, Hawaii, 12 July 1996. I accessed this through Scholar Space.
Upcoming Changes With the Lectionary Blog!
Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will have a cleaner, simpler design and a new name—Two Worlds—as part of a renewed commitment to digital ministry and more intentional use of online tools for learning, reflection, and future offerings. Because I am discontinuing the mailing list, you will need to subscribe directly through WordPress to keep receiving new posts (no cost): simply enter your email in the subscription box, confirm the email message WordPress sends, and you will receive updates each time I post. If you do not receive the Confirmation Email, check your spam folder. Also, you can manage your subscription anytime through the “Manage Subscription” link at the bottom right.
Try Luther’s Approach to Reading
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer) The journey begins with humble prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to open one’s heart to Scripture. For Luther, prayer clears the ground so God’s wisdom can take root.
Meditatio (Meditation) Meditation means more than reading. It’s the slow, repeated turning of Scripture over in the mind — “chewing” on the Word until it shapes one’s imagination, habits, and decisions.
Tentatio (Struggle) Struggle is the crucible of faith. As believers try to live out God’s Word, they meet resistance — inner conflict, doubt, temptation, and suffering. Luther insisted that these trials are not signs of failure but the very means by which God deepens and strengthens faith.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
The readings for the Third Sunday after Epiphany share a movement from darkness toward light, revealing a God who breaks through fear, division, and despair with steadfast presence and purpose. Isaiah announces light dawning on people who have known deep shadow, while the psalmist names the Lord as a refuge whose beauty and guidance steady the heart. Paul urges a fractured community to reclaim unity in Christ rather than cling to competing loyalties, reminding them that God’s power often appears in forms the world considers weak or foolish. In Matthew, Jesus embodies this same light as he calls ordinary people into a new way of life, inviting them to follow him into healing, proclamation, and the work of gathering a renewed community.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for 3 Epiphany.” 14 January 2026.
Focus Reading: Matthew 4: 12-23
The First Reading
Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan –
2 The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. 3 You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder. 4 For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor.
Mosaic of the prophet Isaiah in the Dome of Immanuel in St Mark’s Basilica (Venice)
Questions for Discussion
How does reading Jesus’ early ministry through Isaiah’s vision — especially the contrast between light and imperial darkness — shape the way we understand his actions in Galilee and his call to the first disciples?
In what ways does remembering painful history, as both Isaiah and Matthew insist we do, help us see the present more clearly and discern how Christ calls us to act on behalf of those who bear the heaviest burdens today?
The Gospel
12 Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. 13 He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the sea, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, 14 so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled:
15 “Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the gentiles— 16 the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.”
17 From that time Jesus began to proclaim, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 18 As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishers. 19 And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people.” 20 Immediately they left their nets and followed him. 21 As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. 22 Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.
23 Jesus went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Reflection: “Trusting the Light: Jesus in the Borderlands“
The Calling of Saints Peter and Andrew (Caravaggio, c. 1603-1606)
Reading the Bible is always humbling and this week’s passages from Isaiah and Matthew remind me of that old adage — “the more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know!”Here’s a framework to help us better understand these texts. Matthew anchors Jesus’ early ministry in Israel’s long memory, drawing directly on Isaiah to speak to a community shaped by loss and empire. Writing after 70 CE, with Rome’s destruction of the Second Temple still fresh, he invokes the Assyrian crisis of Isaiah’s time and places it directly alongside Rome’s rule — a parallel his audience would have grasped immediately. He places Jesus in Zebulun and Naphtali — the same borderlands Isaiah once named — now again under foreign rule, and marks Jesus’ move there after John’s death as the moment his public ministry begins. In that charged landscape, ordinary workers drop their nets at his call, stepping into a future defined not by fear but by trust. Matthew insists we read Christ’s move into these covenant‑rich lands through Isaiah’s vision. By citing Isaiah 9, he locates Jesus within the same story in which God’s light breaks into Assyrian darkness (echoing Isaiah 9:2). He casts Rome as a new Assyria and presents Jesus as the one who fulfills Isaiah’s promise that God’s saving light will cut through imperial shadow. Every act Jesus performs in Galilee embodies Isaiah’s hope for deliverance breaking into a land long held down by foreign power.
Christine Chakoian Westwood Presbyterian Church (Los Angeles)
In her compelling commentary on these texts, Pastor Christine Chakoian offers this reflection on history: “It is faithful to live in the present, ‘in the day that the Lord has made’ (Psalm 118:24). But that does not mean forgetting the past. Remembering it provides for a more faithful life now — even when the past is painful to recall.”Yes, humanity’s history is filled with pain, and it is tempting to forget, to deny, to sanitize. We do that at our own peril, however. As Christians, we need clear vision and clear thinking, something our faith provides — we need perspective. Again, quoting from Pastor Chakoian, “What would it look like for our generation to learn from the past? What would it tell us about the present? Even more, how would it lead us to change the trajectory of the future, looking to the kingdom of heaven — the template of God’s will? Maybe it starts where Jesus did: recognizing the lowest ranking in society, both for the value they bring and the burden they carry.” Wise words to ponder on a cold winter day, my friends.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: I drew from two sources for this reflection and am indebted to these theologians for prompting my thinking:
Warren Carter’s 2017 commentary on Matthew accessed through Working Preacher (Luther Seminary). Carter is a New Testament professor in Tulsa, Oklahoma. And Christine Chakoian’s analysis of both the Isaiah and Matthew passages from January edition of The Christian Century. Chakoian is pastor of Westwood Presbyterian Church in Los Angeles.
Musical Meditation: “Sure on This Shining Night” (Lauridsen)
James Agee (1909-1955)
James Agee’s 1934 poem Sure on This Shining Night, especially in the remarkable musical setting by Morten Lauridsen (b. 1943), resonates deeply with the Epiphany season. Epiphany is the church’s meditation on light revealed in the midst of human need, and Agee’s poem holds that same tension between shadow and radiant light. Its plea for kindness and healing mirrors the Gospel stories of Jesus’ early ministry, where divine presence becomes visible in acts of compassion. This interpretation by the Nordic Choir of Luther College is from 2015 — enjoy a few peaceful moments this week with their amazing rendition!
Agee’s Poem: Sure on This Shining Night
Sure on this shining night Of star made shadows round, Kindness must watch for me This side the ground. The late year lies down the north. All is healed, all is health. High summer holds the earth. Hearts all whole. Sure on this shining night I weep for wonder wand’ring far alone Of shadows on the stars.
Nordic Choir, founded in 1946, enjoys national and international stature as one of the premier collegiate choral ensembles in the United States. Acclaimed for the way it honors the Lutheran choral tradition while also featuring new and innovative choral works, the choir showcases versatility, artistry, and technical mastery across many genres of music. Nordic Choir is Luther College’s principal choral ensemble.
Prayer for the Children of Ukraine
Ukrainian Children Refugees
The Russo-Ukrainian War began in February of 2022, nearly four years ago! To put that in perspective, the war has now been raging longer than US involvement in World War II! Among other things, Russia’s invasion has included a systematic effort to remove Ukrainian children from their families, communities, and cultural identity. Investigations by the Yale Humanitarian Research Lab and other international bodies document that more than 19,000 children have been forcibly taken to Russia or Russian‑controlled territories, where many are placed in “re‑education” programs, adoption pipelines, or facilities designed to sever their connection to Ukrainian language and heritage (the number may be much higher than that). We offer this prayer on their behalf this week.
God of justice and mercy, we cry out for the children of Ukraine, whose lives have been torn apart by war and by those who seek to erase their identity. Stand between them and every force that threatens their safety, their heritage, and their hope. Break the grip of those who have taken them, and strengthen all who work to protect, shelter, and reunite them. Surround these children with people who act with courage and tenderness, and let Your light cut through every shadow that tries to claim them. Hold them fast in the truth that they are not forgotten by their families, by the world, or by You. Amen.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
In Other News . . .
Greenland is home to roughly 56,000 people, the vast majority of whom are Indigenous and of Inuit or mixed Inuit-Danish heritage. The Bishops of the ELC in Canada, Denmark, and the United States issued this Joint Statement on 16 January regarding recent geo-political developments.
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year.
“In Niebuhr’s view, we all worship something. A simple way to figure out what we worship is to ask: Where do we find our sense of meaning? That which gives our lives deeper meaning is that which we worship. If we do not worship God — if we do not seek and find our purpose in relationship with our Creator — we seek meaning in an endless array of other things. Political causes, charismatic people, or even one’s own ego could become an object of worship.”
(Jeremy L. Sabella, An American Conscience: The Reinhold Niebuhr Story).
Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)
“What are you looking for?” Jesus’ question to Andrew and Peter in this week’s Gospel reading from John cuts straight through our defenses. It echoes Reinhold Niebuhr’s insight, as described by Jeremy L. Sabella, that human beings are inherently religious — not because we all gather in sanctuaries, but because we all hand our devotion to something. Whatever shapes our trust, fuels our desire, or anchors our identity becomes, in Niebuhr’s terms, the object of our worship.
I’ve suggested before that our spiritual malaise grows when we move our deepest trust away from a shared spiritual center and toward substitutes—our politics, our work, our purchases, our online personas, or the circles we join to feel like we belong. These forces don’t just compete for our attention; they form us, claim us, and often harden us. None of this is new, but in 2026 the pull feels unusually fierce, as if the very atmosphere is charged with rival altars calling for our loyalty.
Commemorations this Week
MLK and fellow clergy and the March on Washington, 1963
There are three commemorations on the ELCA calendar this week. Thursday 15 January: Martin Luther King, Jr., renewer of society and martyr; Saturday 17 January: Antony of Egypt (c. 356), renewer of the church; and Sunday 18 January, Confession of Peter (Apostolic Festival).
Sunday is also the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Some quick history: The Week of Prayer for Christian Unity began in 1908, when Episcopal priest Fr. Paul Wattson proposed an eight‑day period of prayer from January 18–25, linking the Confession of St. Peter to the Conversion of St. Paul as a symbolic frame for Christian reconciliation. In the 1930s, Abbé Paul Couturier broadened the vision, encouraging Christians to pray not for unity on any one group’s terms but for “the unity Christ wills.” This more inclusive approach helped the observance spread across traditions. Since 1968, materials for the week have been prepared jointly by the World Council of Churches and the Vatican, marking a major step in global ecumenical cooperation. Today, communities around the world join in this annual rhythm of prayer, seeking healing and deeper unity in the Body of Christ.
Note: I include a few links within the blog — italicized, bolded, and underlined — for further information on various topics.
Update Regarding the Lectionary Blog!
With 5 Epiphany (8 February), we complete the three‑year Revised Common Lectionary cycle that began in 2023 as an offshoot of an Introduction to Bible Study course — an experiment that has grown to more than 150 posts. Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will take on a cleaner, simpler look as I experiment with layout and design to make it easier to read and navigate — I’m also transitioning to a new name — Two Worlds. This refresh reflects a renewed focus on digital ministry and a more intentional use of online tools for learning, reflection, and future Bible studies.
And, a REMINDER on this change: I will no longer use a mailing list. To continue receiving new posts, please subscribe directly to the blog (at no cost). After entering your email, WordPress will send a verification link to confirm your subscription. You’ll find a subscribe block at the bottom of the blog, along with a pop‑up option in the lower right corner. If you already subscribe through WordPress, you’re all set—no need to sign up again.
Try Luther’s Approach to Reading
A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer) The journey begins with humble prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to open one’s heart to Scripture. For Luther, prayer clears the ground so God’s wisdom can take root.
Meditatio (Meditation) Meditation means more than reading. It’s the slow, repeated turning of Scripture over in the mind — “chewing” on the Word until it shapes one’s imagination, habits, and decisions.
Tentatio (Struggle) Struggle is the crucible of faith. As believers try to live out God’s Word, they meet resistance — inner conflict, doubt, temptation, and suffering. Luther insisted that these trials are not signs of failure but the very means by which God deepens and strengthens faith.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
The readings for the Second Sunday after Epiphany center on God’s initiative to call, reveal, and send. Isaiah speaks of a servant formed and summoned by God for a purpose larger than he imagined, a theme echoed in the psalmist’s testimony that God not only rescues but places a new song and vocation within the heart. Paul reminds the Corinthians that their identity and strength come from God’s faithfulness, who equips them with every gift needed for their calling. In John’s Gospel, Jesus is revealed as the Lamb of God, and those who encounter him are drawn into a new life of witness, showing that divine calling always leads outward into relationship, testimony, and mission.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for 2 Epiphany.” 7 January 2026.
Focus Reading from John 1 (Gospel)
29 The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! 30 This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ 31 I myself did not know him, but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” 32 And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. 33 I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ 34 And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Chosen One.” 35 The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, 36 and as he watched Jesus walk by he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” 37 The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. 38 When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?”39 He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon. 40 One of the two who heard John speak and followed him was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. 41 He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed). 42 He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, “You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas” (which is translated Peter).
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Questions for Discussion
1. When Jesus asks, “What are you seeking,” what rises to the surface for you right now—personally, spiritually, or in your daily life?
2. The disciples respond by asking, “Where are you staying?” What does it look like for you—or for a community—to “stay” with Jesus in a restless world?
Reflection: Jesus’ First Question
The Gospel reading this week brings us into the early days of Jesus’ ministry, but John’s Gospel asks us to see those days through a different lens.(Sidebar: Several people I have talked to recently indicate to me that John is their favorite of the four Gospels, and I concur). Unlike Matthew, Mark, and Luke — written earlier and shaped by communities still close to the first generation of believers — John’s Gospel comes from a later moment in the church’s life. Most scholars place it near the end of the first century. By then, the Christian movement had weathered decades of tension with local synagogue communities, the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple, and the growing challenge of defining its identity in a changing world. John reads less like a straightforward narrative and more like a deep meditation. Its purpose is not simply to recount events but to reveal who Jesus is and what his presence means. It invites readers to see with new eyes, to enter a relationship rather than memorize a timeline.
Before reaching this week’s passage, John has already laid a rich foundation. The Gospel opens with that sweeping prologue: “In the beginning was the Word…” Jesus is placed at the center of creation itself. Then John the Baptist appears — not as the Messiah, but as a witness. His whole mission is to point beyond himself. Religious leaders question him, but he stays focused: prepare the way. By the time we reach verse 29, the anticipation is rising. The true Light has stepped into the world, and John is ready to direct others toward him.
The Calling of Saints Peter and Andrew by Caravaggio, c. 1603-1606.
Today’s reading moves with purpose. Those of you that have been consistent blog readers know that I’m fascinated with “moments” from scripture, especially turning points — add this one to the list. (Sidebar: The painting included here depicts the moment Jesus calls Andrew and Peter, from Matthew’s Gospel, but I’m including it here because it depicts the three main characters). John sees Jesus and names him “the Lamb of God.” Two of John’s disciples (Andrew and Peter) hear this and begin to follow Jesus. Then Jesus turns, and we hear his first words in this Gospel: “What are you looking for?” In Greek, the question is even sharper: “What are you seeking?” It’s a simple question, but profoundly important. Jesus doesn’t begin with a command or a teaching. He begins with desire. He asks them to name what they long for. That question still reaches us. In this season after Epiphany—a season of light, clarity, and revelation — it feels especially urgent. What are we seeking as individuals? What are we seeking as communities? What do we need as a nation? What does our world hunger for right now?
The two disciples don’t offer a polished answer. They don’t ask for a miracle or a lesson. They simply say, “Where are you staying?” On the surface, it sounds like a practical question. But underneath it lies a deeper longing: Where can we remain with you? Where can we dwell in God’s presence? They want to stay close enough to see who Jesus truly is. Jesus responds with an invitation: “Come and see.” Discipleship begins there—not with certainty, but with movement. Not with perfect understanding, but with a willingness to stay close.
So Jesus’ question returns to us: What am I seeking? Do I seek peace? Healing? Purpose? Belonging? Do I seek a way of living that feels honest and hopeful? Do I seek a place where God feels near? In this Time After Epiphany, we are reminded that God’s light still breaks in. Jesus’ question helps us name our longing. And his invitation — “Come and see”—opens the path forward. Good words for a cold December day.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: I am indebted to Audry West, distinguished associate professor of New Testament at Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, and project administrator of Moravian Clergy Connections, for her interpretation of this passage. Accessed from Working Preacher at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN. 11 January 2026.
Musical Meditation: “Blackbird” (Paul McCartney)
Paul McCartney (born 1942)
How many of you recall the Beatles coming to America in 1964 and appearing on the Ed Sullivan Show? (an early memory for me!). Released in November of 1968, Paul McCartney has said that Blackbird was his quiet response to the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. (the prior April) and the wider civil‑rights struggle unfolding in the United States in 1968 (including the Little Rock Nine episode). The image of a blackbird learning to “fly” became his way of encouraging Black Americans — especially Black women — who were facing discrimination and violence. He wrote the song as a message of hope in a moment of national grief, wanting to offer comfort after King’s death and to affirm the courage of those continuing the fight for justice. The song has been covered by multiple artists. The one I’m sharing here is from a concert by the Harvard Opportunes in December of 2025, and is a remarkable rendition! Enjoy!
Lyrics Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly Blackbird fly Into the light of a dark, black night
Blackbird fly Blackbird fly Into the light of a dark, black night
Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise You were only waiting for this moment to arise
The Harvard Opportunes are Harvard University’s oldest contemporary a cappella group, founded in 1980 and known for bold arrangements and an easy stage presence. They perform an eclectic mix of pop, R&B, and contemporary music, all arranged by students who lean into rich harmonies and strong solo work. The group tours, records, and produces polished videos, earning recognition for both musicality and creativity. Their blend of tradition and experimentation gives them a distinctive voice in the collegiate a cappella world.
Have you ever wondered about the connection between MLK and Martin Luther? Here’s the backstory. Martin Luther King Jr.’s spiritual life was rooted in the Black Baptist tradition he inherited from his father, yet it grew into a global moral vision shaped by scripture, nonviolence, and a profound sense of divine calling. Born Michael King Jr., he received the name Martin Luther after his father — deeply moved by a 1934 trip to Germany and the legacy of the Reformation — changed both their names, a shift that symbolically linked the young preacher to a long line of reformers who challenged injustice. MLK’s official name change occurred in on 23 July 1957. The general prayers for renewers of the church prayer are found on page 60 of the ELW.
Let us pray: Holy and righteous God, you created us in your image. Grant us grace to contend fearlessly against evil and to make no peace with oppression. Help us, like your servant Martin Luther King, Jr., to work for justice among people and nations, to the glory of your name, through Jesus Christ our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Two Sources: Taylor Branch. Parting the Waters: America in the King Years 1954-63. The National Museum of African-American History, Washington, D.C.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
Read ELCA Bishop Curry’s statement in response to recent events in Minneapolis and the death of Renee Good on 7 January.
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year.
“There are a few times in life when you leap up and the past that you’d been standing on falls away behind you, and the future you mean to land on is not yet in place…” (Ann Patchett)
This week’s Gospel and Second Reading prompt thinking about thresholds we cross in life. Most of us can recall those quiet or sudden shifts when the ground beneath us gives way, and only later do we realize how sharply life divided into a before and an after. Fiction writer Ann Patchett, in her 2019 novel The Dutch House, captures this with striking clarity — we often step into new terrain without recognizing its weight until much later. The vivid scenes in Matthew 3 and Acts 10 unfold in just this way. At the Jordan, Jesus enters the waters of baptism and rises into the fullness of his public calling as the Beloved Son. In Caesarea, the Roman centurion Cornelius receives a vision that will open the gospel to the Gentile world and redirect the early church. Both narratives remind us that God often meets us at these crossings. More on that in my reflections.
Important Update on the Blog!
With 5 Epiphany (8 February), we complete the three‑year Revised Common Lectionary cycle that began in 2023 as an offshoot of an Introduction to Bible Study course—an experiment that has grown into more than 150 posts. Thank you for reading and making this part of your weekly rhythm. Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will turn the page. I will still be following the RCL, but with a cleaner, simpler look. Over the next month I’ll be experimenting with the layout and trying out a few ideas to make it easier to read and navigate. This shift reflects a renewed focus on digital ministry and more intentional use of online tools for learning and reflection. The blog can also serve as a hub for future Bible studies and adult education.
One key change: I will no longer use a mailing list. To keep receiving new posts, please subscribe directly to the blog (no cost). After you enter your email, WordPress will send a verification link; clicking it confirms your subscription and prevents spam sign‑ups. You will find a subscribe block at the bottom of the blog and a pop-up subscribe application in the lower right also. I encourage you to go ahead and do that now, if you wish to continue receiving the blog.
** If you are already a subscriber through WordPress, no need to redo that process!
A Simple Strategy for Reading
#1: What is something NEW you learned in the reading?
#2: What is something that caused you to REFLECT?
#3: What is something you can RELATE to prior knowledge?
#4: What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages.
The readings for the Baptism of Our Lord center on God’s chosen servant, empowered by the Spirit to bring justice, healing, and light to the nations. Psalm 29 echoes this by portraying the majestic voice of the Lord over the waters, revealing divine power that both shakes creation and blesses God’s people with peace. Acts 10 proclaims that Jesus’ ministry—launched at his baptism—reveals a God who shows no partiality, extending peace and liberation to all peoples through the Spirit’s anointing. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ baptism becomes the defining threshold moment where the heavens open, the Spirit descends, and the divine voice declares him the Beloved Son, marking the beginning of his mission.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for The Baptism of Our Lord.” 2 January 2026.
Focus Readings from Matthew and Acts
The Gospel 13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Questions for Discussion
Where do you see signs that God may already be at work ahead of you — in a person, situation, or community you hadn’t expected — and what would it take for you to “cross the threshold” as Peter did?
Both Jesus at the Jordan and Peter in Caesarea step into moments that redraw the boundaries of who belongs. What inherited lines — personal, cultural, or congregational — might God be inviting us to re‑examine today?
The Second Reading 34 Then Peter began to speak to them: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, 35 but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him. 36 You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ—he is Lord of all. 37 That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: 38 how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. 39 We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree, 40 but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, 41 not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. 42 He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. 43 All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”
Reflection: “Where the River Meets the Doorway”
Vision of Corelius, the Roman Centurion by Gerbrand van den Eeckhout (Dutch, 1664)
Two stories, two encounters that change everything. This Sunday we stand at a threshold where Scripture shows God expanding what we imagine is possible. In Matthew 3, Jesus steps into the Jordan and receives his divine affirmation and calling. In Acts 10, Peter crosses the doorway of a Roman centurion’s home and discovers that the Spirit has already gone before him.These moments are separated by roughly a decade and by miles of geography — from the wilderness of Judea to the coastal city of Caesarea — yet they share the same disruptive grace. What began at the river now breaks open in the household of a Gentile officer, revealing a God who keeps pushing the early church beyond its inherited lines and into a wider, more surprising future.
John the Baptist Church (Greek Orthodox), Jesus’ Baptismal Site, River Jordan
Jesus’ baptism happens around the year 28 or 29 CE at Bethany beyond the Jordan — Al‑Maghtas — the wilderness site where he steps into the water and into the public ministry that will reshape the world. By the time Peter stands in Caesarea, entering the home of Cornelius, we are roughly a decade later — early to mid‑40s CE — and the Jesus movement has spread north from Jerusalem into Judea, Samaria, and the coastal regions. Peter is no longer the fisherman from Galilee; he now leads a rapidly growing and increasingly diverse community of believers. Then Cornelius enters the story — a Roman officer, a Gentile, and a representative of the very empire that executed Jesus — already guided by a vision to send for Peter. His household becomes the unlikely setting for a major turning point in Christian history. Here Peter delivers one of the earliest and clearest summaries of the Gospel. And when he steps across that threshold and sees the Spirit poured out on Gentiles, the early church learns that God’s promise is not confined by ethnicity, purity codes, or inherited boundaries. This moment doesn’t just widen the circle; it redraws the map of who belongs.
These two moments — one at the river, one at a Roman household — offer lessons that still press on the church today. First, they remind us that God often begins new work long before we recognize it, inviting us to step into movements of grace already unfolding around us. Second, they challenge us to cross our own thresholds of fear, habit, or inherited boundary, trusting that the Spirit is at work in people and places we might never have expected. These are not just ancient stories; they are invitations to discern where God is calling us to move next!
Soli Deo Gloria!
Musical Meditation: The Only Son from Heaven
Elisabeth Cruciger (1500-1535)
Elisabeth Cruciger (born von Meseritz) came from a Polish noble family. When persecution forced her parents to flee to Wittenberg, she settled there as well and married Caspar Cruciger in 1524. Caspar, the son of a Leipzig townsman, began studying in Wittenberg in 1522 and quickly became one of Martin Luther’s closest and most promising students—Luther even treated him like a son. Caspar later served as Rector of St. John’s School and preacher at St. Stephen’s Church in Magdeburg, and in 1528 he joined the Wittenberg faculty as a professor of theology at Luther’s urging.
Out of this same Wittenberg circle came Elisabeth’s hymn The Only Son from Heaven, the earliest known Lutheran hymn written by a woman. It appeared in 1524 in the Erfurt Enchiridion, one of the first evangelical hymnals, where it was the only hymn by a female author. After leaving her convent, Cruciger entered Luther’s household community, where close contact with the reformers shaped her theological voice. Sung to the tune HERR CHRIST, DER EINIG GOTTS SOHN, the hymn has endured for five centuries and remains in use across Christian traditions (ELW 309). The version I included is in German and replicates how the hymn may have originally sounded.
Note: This information was drawn from the Hymnary.Org website, 3 January 2026.
Lyrics (ELW)
1 The only Son from heaven, foretold by ancient seers, by God the Father given, in human form appears. No sphere His light confining, no star so brightly shining as He, our Morning Star.
2 O time of God appointed, O bright and holy morn! He comes, the King anointed, the Christ, the virgin-born; grim death to vanquish for us, to open heav’n before us, and bring us life again.
3 Awaken, Lord, our spirit to know and love You more, in faith, to stand unshaken in spirit, to adore; that we, through this world moving, each glimpse of heaven proving, may reap its fullness there.
4 O Father, here before You with God the Holy Ghost, and Jesus, we adore You, O pride of angel-host. Before You mortals lowly cry, “Holy, holy, holy, O blessed Trinity!”
This YouTube channelcreates electronic interpretations of Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque music. The producer gathers MIDI files from various sources, edits them, and arranges them into virtual concerts, using digital tools to mimic the sound of early instruments like the shawm, crumhorn, viol, lute, and cornetto. The visuals draw on public‑domain artwork and manuscript images, and a voice‑simulation program supplies the sung texts. The creator continues to refine earlier uploads and occasionally adds new pieces inspired by pre‑1800 musical styles.
Prayer Reflection: Vision of the Future
Dutch Theologian Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)
“Often it is the dark forest that makes us speak about the open field. Frequently prison makes us think about freedom, hunger helps us to appreciate food, and war gives us words for peace. Not seldom are our visions of the future born out of the sufferings of the present and our hope for others out of our own despair. Only few “happy endings” make us happy, but often someone’s careful and honest articulation of the ambiguities, uncertainties and painful conditions of life gives us new hope. The paradox is indeed that new life is born out of the pains of the old.” (Henri Nouwen)
Inspired Prayer: O God, who meets us in the dark forests of our lives, teach us to trust that the very places of hunger, longing, and uncertainty can open our eyes to freedom, peace, and new possibility. Give us the courage to speak honestly of our pain and the grace to discover, even there, the quiet beginnings of new life. Amen.
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. We cross over into 1 Kings this week and are just past 1/4 completion. We have also read 2/3 of the Psalms at this point.
