The Episcopal Diocese of South Dakota

They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. Isaiah 65:21 In today’s reading from Isaiah, the prophet envisions God’s renewal of the earth, offering transcendent images of abundance that resonate with humanity’s deepest aspirations. These verses depict the end of infant mortality, the gift of long and peaceful lives, the ability to build and enjoy one’s home, and a world where children are not born into calamity and are free from exploitative inequalities. However, the reality we face today is far from this dream. According to the World Bank, many still live on less than $5.50 per day, children are born into war, climate change displaces millions and poverty and inequality affect infant mortality and life expectancy. The dream of Isaiah, where each person can build a home and live peacefully, seems distant. Despite these challenges, Isaiah’s vision serves as a guiding North Star. While we may not be there yet, it shows us where we are heading. Through collective efforts, including the work of organizations like Episcopal Relief & Development, we can join with God in the ongoing renewal of the earth, working toward a future that reflects the prophetic dream of Isaiah. Today’s readings Psalm 30:1–6,11–13 | Isaiah 65:17–25 | John 4:43–54 In a world where the dream of Isaiah seems far away, what actions can we take individually and collectively to move closer to that vision of abundance, equality and peace?

O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor: Grant us the grace of your Holy Spirit, that we may be devoted to you with our whole heart, and united to one another with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. The Book of Common Prayer, p. 230 Today’s readings Psalm 19 | Exodus 20:1–17 | 1 Corinthians 1:18–25 | John 2:13–22

Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Luke 15:22b Today’s parable is one of Jesus’ most famous: the Prodigal Son. There are many ways of reading this story, including as a story about what counts as waste and generosity. Through this lens, this is a story about a younger son who receives his full inheritance and who then wastes it on partying and prostitutes. When he is starving and penniless, he returns to his father who generously offers even more for having returned (a robe, ring, sandals for his feet) and wants to throw a big feast. The older brother considers his father’s generosity to be its own form of squandering. “But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” This brings me to a strange and troubling fact about Jesus: he is frequently the advocate for what some have called “promiscuous generosity,” that is, generosity without a lot of terms. This is the type of generosity that upsets and scandalizes his disciples. It is a generosity, they contend, offered to too many people—and all the wrong sorts. Today’s readings Psalm 103:1–4(5–8)9–12 | Micah 7:14–15,18–20 | Luke 15:11–32 Are there times when we, like the older brother, find ourselves questioning acts of generosity toward those we deem unworthy? Do we struggle to give without conditions? How might this parable challenge us to expand our understanding of generosity and compassion in our lives?

Here comes this dreamer. Genesis 37:19b The passage from Genesis describes how Israel favored one of his sons, Joseph, over the others—and how the hurt and resentment this engendered among Joseph’s brothers led them to conspire to get rid of him. The brothers begin plotting when they see him in the distance: “Here comes this dreamer.” While the reading is about Joseph and his brothers, I believe what happens to Joseph gives us insight into our actions toward other “dreamers” around the globe—artists, prophets and truth-tellers whose vision of a more just, equal and peaceful world disturbs those who are beholden to the status quo. “Here comes this dreamer,” they say. As someone who frequently listens to news out of Latin America, I think about the bravery of journalists whose truth-telling and commitment to exposing corruption has led to their arrest or disappearance. They dream of a more transparent, less corrupt society, and they frequently pay heavily for this vision. So much of what we hold dear is because of the sacrifice endured by everyday dreamers. Lent is an invitation to dream deeply with Jesus about a more peaceful, just and hopeful world. Yet we do so with a clear-eyed understanding of how the world treats its dreamers. May we be courageous and brave as we continue dreaming. Today’s readings Psalm 105:16–22 | Genesis 37:3–4,12–28 | Matthew 21:33–43 What steps can we take to support and uplift the voices of modern-day truth-tellers and visionaries who work for positive change, despite the challenges they face?

As part of his ongoing treatment for atrial fibrillation, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry has been advised by his medical team that he should receive a pacemaker. The procedure, scheduled for March 1, requires him to be hospitalized for one night. More information on this health history is available here. Bishop Curry will continue tending to light-duty work tasks until released to travel and increase his duties. Updates will be provided as necessary. Your continued prayers for Bishop Curry, his family, and his medical team are greatly appreciated.

There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus. Luke 16:19–20 To paraphrase the historian Diarmaid MacCulloch, one of the most striking things about the Gospels is the way in which “the rich and the beautiful people” are largely sidelined, and the poor and marginalized people’s everyday encounters with God are in the forefront. He argues this is a rare—indeed, almost unique—aspect of these ancient texts. This uniqueness is captured nicely in the story of the rich man and Lazarus. When reading the story closely, you may notice that almost unlike any other space in society, it is the rich man who goes nameless, and it is the beggar outside his door whose name we learn and whose experience of suffering and redemption we follow closely. In learning to see the world through Gospel eyes, we need to pay attention to whose names we know. So many of us know not only the names but also intimate details about the lives of the rich and beautiful people of the world—celebrities, royalty, athletes—yet we may have a hard time calling to mind the names of the people we pass every day on the street or even the full names of cleaning staff we’ve worked beside for years. The people whose names we care to learn tell us who we consider to be at the center of God’s unfolding story, and the Gospels have a very particular perspective on this. Today’s readings Psalm 1 | Jeremiah 17:5–10 | Luke 16:19–31 Whose experiences and struggles do you pay attention to, and how might this perspective align or diverge from the Gospel’s focus on those often overlooked by society?

It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be the first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Matthew 20:26–28 One of the most important, recurring themes in the Gospels is the large gap between Jesus’ descriptions of God’s kingdom and how his followers imagine it. In today’s passage, the mother of the sons of Zebedee makes the same mistake generations of Christians have made by equating Jesus’ coming kingdom with worldly wealth and power. She wants in—or, more specifically, she wants her sons to benefit from high positions in Jesus’ coming reign. Jesus’ response is one of surprise and bafflement. He has just finished describing the way of the cross that awaits him. How could anyone mistake the shameful crucifixion he must endure with powerful thrones, golden crowns and worldly power? Over the past year, I’ve visited many museums that focus on medieval religious art. Very often, Jesus is portrayed as a royal king, replete with golden crown, scepter and orb. While I understand that this imagery is intended to convey the glory and power of the resurrected Christ, ruling and judging from his universal throne, I can’t help but wonder whether such imagery misses the point. For generations, Christians have kept trying to put a golden crown on one who wore a crown of thorns. Today’s readings Psalm 31:9–16 | Jeremiah 18:1–11,18–20 Matthew 20:17–28 How do we sometimes confuse the true essence of faith and discipleship with worldly success and recognition? What steps can we take to better align our understanding with the teachings of Jesus and his message of selflessness and humility?

All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted. Matthew 23:12 Most leadership courses begin with the premise that a good, credible leader is someone who is clear about their values and models the way. If you want to encourage generosity, you must do so by publicly modeling generosity. If you want people to address conflict calmly and thoughtfully, you must model this for others. Leaders have the opportunity to set the tone and parameters for what constitutes appropriate behavior, and they often do so more effectively through their actions rather than their words. In today’s reading, Jesus critiques the wide gap that frequently exists between religious leaders’ words and deeds. He notes that while the religious leaders of his day spoke of humility, their actions, titles, dress and performative righteousness modeled both self-importance and the need to be at the center of all things. This behavior stands in stark contrast to the grounded humility Jesus hopes his followers will model: “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted,” (Matthew 23:12). Jesus’ critique is so piercing that it feels transcendently applicable today. If Jesus is truly our leader, then we must learn to model simplicity, humility and a desire to learn rather than be lauded as an expert. Then, we can grow in awareness that God is the main character of this story, not us. Today’s readings Psalm 50:7–15, 22–24 | Isaiah 1:2–4,16–20 Matthew 23:1–12 If simplicity and humility are key values for Jesus, how might we model this in our daily life?

But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Luke 6:35a Nearly a year ago, my spouse and I visited the Eldridge Street Synagogue, a stunning place that was once a center of Jewish life on the Lower East Side of New York. After having fallen into disrepair, it was painstakingly restored, and today it is a museum rich in stories and artifacts from the community. Among the encased artifacts are two loan cards made to members of the synagogue in the 1920s. These cards record $100 and $25 loans issued and then repaid three weeks later at no interest. The word “paid” is scrawled in beautiful script over the first card. Now, what on earth does this have to do with the Gospel reading today? This passage is one of my favorites because of a single line, an utterance so brief that it is rarely mentioned today. Quietly embedded within Jesus’ teaching on nonviolence and loving one’s enemy is what some have called Jesus’ single most important economic teaching: “But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return.” When I think about those loan cards from the Eldridge Street synagogue, I wonder about the people who needed those $100- and $25-dollar loans. Was an eviction imminent? Was it for relief in the wake of a fire? We don’t know much about the people who received those loans, but the fact that they were offered without interest tells us a lot about the compassion and care of the community that extended them. May we continue to use our financial resources to practice love and compassion in our communities. Today’s readings Psalm 79:1–9 | Daniel 9:3–10 | Luke 6:27–38 Why does Jesus talk about poverty so much? What does Jesus mean when he says that giving without interest is a way of loving others? What are the practical implications of this teaching?

Grant to us, Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who cannot exist without you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. The Book of Common Prayer, p. 232 Today’s readings Psalm 22:22–30 | Genesis 17:1–7,15–16 | Romans 4:13–25 | Mark 8:31–38

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples. John 15:7–8 Last summer, I was on a crowded train and had the opportunity (if that’s the word) to overhear a young man in his 20s loudly and confidently decrying how lazy everyone had become. Speaking to his girlfriend, he even denounced people who took a week off work due to illness and declared that not only had he never done so but also his father hadn’t done so either. He declared that top achievers, outperformers and successful people don’t take time off At this point, I began desperately searching for my headphones, open windows, available exits—anything to get away from his bravado. I mention all this because the idolization of productivity is all around us. Yet the Gospel points us in a very different direction in defining fruitfulness. In today’s readings, Jesus offers beautiful organic imagery. He describes himself as the “true vine” and God as “the vine grower,” and he says that those who “abide” in God’s love bear much fruit. The active verb here is to “abide” in God. It isn’t to achieve in God. It isn’t to outperform or level up to God. Heck, it isn’t even to succeed in God. All Jesus asks today is that we abide and be like trees planted by streams of water, trusting that we will yield fruit in due season. Today’s readings Psalm 15 | Acts 1:15–26 | Philippians 3:13–21 | John 15:1,6–16 Amidst so much talk about efficiency and productivity, what does it mean to abide and bear fruit in God’s time?

Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Matthew 5:25 In today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus warns about anger, grudges and simmering feuds. The Jesus we meet here is a practical peacemaker. Rather than trying to resolve conflicts with acts of vengeance or through a shaky court system, he urges his followers to seek a peaceful resolution first even if it literally means doing so on the way to court. Biblical scholars frequently note that Jesus was speaking to a society obsessed with questions of honor and shame. While this is a sweeping generalization, it wasn’t uncommon for insults to be “resolved” through acts of vengeance. More striking still is Jesus’ portrayal of the arbitrariness of a judge’s decision and his sense that, whether a party is innocent or not, even the innocent may have to pay dearly. “Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny” (Matthew 5:26). Jesus is seeking a culture change. He observes how his community keeps spiraling into violence and how a corrupt judicial system rarely achieves justice and instead urges peaceful ways forward. It is practical advice that still feels both radical and resonant today. Today’s readings Psalm 130 | Ezekiel 18:21–28 | Matthew 5:20–26 Conflicts, large and small, happen all around us every day. How can we be peacemakers today?

In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets. Matthew 7:12 Today’s reading from the Gospel of Matthew contains Jesus’ famous moral formula, his “Golden Rule,” which appears across many religions and moral philosophies throughout the world: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets” (Matthew 7:12). In the centuries since Jesus uttered these words, many Christian teachers have reflected deeply on this teaching and have offered their own variations on this theme. My personal favorite comes from the fourth-century theologian Lactantius, who, in his Divine Institutes, considered how Jesus’ teaching touched on public life and justice. Knowing how deeply Roman society valued family, he restated Jesus’ Golden Rule for his culture: “The whole nature of justice lies in our providing for others through humanity what we provide for our own families and relatives through affection.” He asked Romans to provide for vulnerable families what they so freely provided for their own. Today’s readings Psalm 138 | Esther (Apocrypha) 14:1–6,12–14 | Matthew 7:7–12 In many cultures, it is traditional to draw strict boundaries around who we consider family, yet God asks us to consider whether children across the globe are also, somehow, our children. What does it mean to “provide through humanity” for an expanded sense of family?

Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Psalm 51:11 In today’s passage from the Book of Jonah, Jonah proclaims to the inhabitants of Nineveh that God will destroy them. Shockingly, the king and inhabitants of the city listen and change their ways. This is not how things normally go. In most books of the Bible, we hear prophets proclaim God’s message to hardened hearts. And yet, because Nineveh repented and changed its ways, God “changed his mind” (Jonah 3:10). God does not destroy the city, and everyone is left happy. Well, almost everyone. The one unhappy soul is Jonah himself. After all, God’s merciful act has left Jonah hanging out there looking like a fool. God received what God desired, and the city of Nineveh was saved, but Jonah’s credibility and ego are sorely bruised. Part of the reason why I love the book of Jonah, and this story in particular, is because it became part of a later tradition that reflected how following God will sometimes end up making you look like a fool. This resulted in a Christian Holy Fool tradition that drank deeply from the Book of Jonah, a spiritual path in which imitating Christ meant becoming a fool to respectable society, albeit a kind of holy fool ultimately grounded in God’s love. Today’s readings Psalm 51:11–18 | Jonah 3:1–10 | Luke 11:29–32 Let’s be honest: choosing to follow Christ can occasionally feel like a strange and surprising choice. If it sometimes feels like foolishness, how can this be a way of identifying more deeply with figures like Jonah and Christ, whose journeys with God led them to the margins?

Pray then in this way. Matthew 6:9a A common theme in Lent is repentance and seeking forgiveness from God for our sins. Today’s reading, however, turns the tables and asks us to consider the extent to which we forgive others. In the Gospel lesson appointed for today (Matthew 6:7–15), Jesus instructs his followers on how to pray. He says we are not to pray “as the Gentiles do” by heaping word after word upon each other but to pray using the simple and direct formula that we’ve come to know as the Lord’s Prayer. At the end of Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus circles back and re-emphasizes how forgiving others is closely related to being forgiven by God: “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you; but if you do not forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” This is a problem. Or at least it is for anyone (like me) who tends to hold onto righteous anger. As a fairly creative thinker, I’m skilled at coming up with all sorts of reasons why I should not forgive someone. How can I forgive them when they’ve never acknowledged any wrongdoing? How can I forgive them when nothing about their behavior has changed? Those are good questions, and yet Jesus is telling us something important about the power of forgiveness to be a saving grace for its own sake. For our own healing, then, Jesus asks us to forgive. Today’s readings Psalm 34:15–22 | Isaiah 55:6–11 | Matthew 6:7–1 Even as we hold others accountable for their actions, how might we take Jesus’ emphasis on personal forgiveness to heart? What does taking a step toward such forgiveness look like today?

February 19, 2024 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. Matthew 25:35–36 Growing up in a small Texas town in the 1980s and ‘90s, I was surrounded by versions of Christianity that placed great emphasis on God’s coming judgment. To a surprising degree, my first encounters with Christians involved people who were trying to “save me” from the fires of hell and who were obsessed with the impending rapture. Needless to say, I found this experience both fascinating and strange. It is comforting—indeed, healing—then to reflect on Matthew 25:31–46 decades later. In this passage, Jesus offers us a different image of God’s coming judgment. Jesus describes a time when God separated the sheep from the goats. Critically, however, the criteria for judgment center on how we treated God’s “least of these” in our earthly life. This text on judgment specifically names the treatment of groups still incredibly vulnerable today: the hungry, the thirsty, the sick and the imprisoned. Jesus is notably silent on so many of the issues that inflamed my schoolmates’ imaginations, yet he spoke eloquently about serving the most vulnerable in our midst. “Truly, I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:40). Today’s readings Psalm 19:7–14 | Leviticus 19:1–2,11–18 | Matthew 25:31–46 What does it mean to you that in a text on God’s judgment, Jesus identifies with “the least of these”?

February 18, 2024 Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. The Book of Common Prayer, p. 264 Today’s readings Psalm 25:1–9 | Genesis 9:8–17 | 1 Peter 3:18–22 | Mark 1:9–15

February 17, 2024 If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday. Matthew 9:13 Today, we find ourselves back at Isaiah 58, which serves for me as a summary of the entirety of my faith. After probing the depth and authenticity of performative faith, the prophet Isaiah lays out what God considers true religion. God states, “If you offer your food to the hungry, and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness, and your gloom be like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10). Over the centuries, scholars and theologians have made many efforts to spiritualize such simple and direct language. In the second and third centuries, some Christians reinterpreted “the hungry” to mean “the spiritually hungry.” Whereas Scripture speaks directly about the hardships of the poor, “to remove the yoke” became a metaphor for any form of relief. As beautiful as this spiritualizing tradition can be, it is also vital to consider hunger, poverty and hardship in concrete terms. During Lent, let us ask ourselves these important questions: Am I adding to the burdens of the poor, or am I helping to remove the yoke? Am I sharing my food with the hungry, or are my meals kept to a closely knit circle of family and friends? What is the connection between my life and the needs of the afflicted? Through Isaiah, God urges us to make this connection and to become more generous and satisfy the needs of the afflicted so that our light will shine in the darkness and our gloom will be like the noonday. Today’s readings Psalm 86:1–11 | Isaiah 58:9b–14 | Luke 5:27–32 Giving regularly to Episcopal Relief & Development is one of the ways in which my spouse and I strive to “remove the yoke” from people experiencing poverty. We especially enjoy supporting Moments That Matter®, a program partnership of Episcopal Relief & Development, which helps children up to the age of 3 reach their fullest potential. What is one concrete way you can help “remove the yoke” today?

February 16, 2024 Go and learn what this means, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners. Matthew 9:13 In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus and his disciples are admonished for hanging out with the wrong crowd. The religious authorities of Jesus’ day criticize them for sitting with the much-loathed tax collectors and sinners. Jesus’ response: “Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice’” (Matthew 9:13). I see two components in Jesus’ response. First, Jesus instructs us all to “go and learn.” Go and learn what it means to follow God in a complex and confusing world. Go and learn what it means to have one’s heart broken—and to know that you’ve broken others’ hearts, too. Go and learn what it means to have tried your best and yet completely failed. Go and learn the names and stories of people that you have judged to be sinners. The second part occurs once one has “gone and learned.” Once that has been done, we can begin to grasp the teaching that mercy—not sacrifice—is the hallmark of a truly faithful person. Jesus insists that a compassionate approach to life is more pleasing to God than righteous indignation and judgment. Today’s readings Psalm 51:1–10 | Isaiah 58:1–9a | Matthew 9:10–17 Humans judge. At some point, we have all categorized people into good and bad, pure and impure. How might we entertain curiosity—rather than judgment—toward those we have dismissed?

February 15, 2024 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it. What does it profit them if they gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit themselves? Luke 9:24–25 On this Thursday after Ash Wednesday, Scripture offers us rich and complicated fare about life and death. Beginning with Deuteronomy 30:15, God describes two paths: “I have set before you today life and prosperity, death and adversity.” In Psalm 1:3–4, we hear that those who follow the Law will be like “trees planted by streams of water,” whereas those who walk in the counsel of the wicked are “chaff which the wind blows away. Such texts rely on strong contrasts. On one side is life and prosperity. On the other side, there is death and adversity. The starkness of the contrasts—their light and shadow—make the final reading even more remarkable because Jesus’ message of the cross complicates this polarized vision of reality. Jesus, after all, relishes a provocative paradox. In Luke 9:24, Jesus states, “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” Once again, Scripture presents life and death, but this time, gaining the whole world (power, prestige, etc.) is presented as the chaff that blows away, while the bewildering fact of a shameful crucifixion becomes the seed of new life. Today’s readings Psalm 1 | Deuteronomy 30:15–20 | Luke 9:18–25 It is easy, at times, to miss the strange and paradoxical message of the cross. What does it mean to lose one’s life for God’s sake today? How might the way of the cross be a beginning rather than an end?