Daily Reading for August 1 • Joseph of Arimathea

Not one of the Twelve, but perhaps one of the seventy, approached without fear and took charge of Jesus' funeral. Joseph therefore came and asked the favor from Pilate, which he granted. And why should he not? Nicodemus also assists him and furnishes a costly burial. For they were still disposed to think of him as a mere man. And they brought those spices whose special nature is to preserve the body for a long time and not allow it quickly to yield to corruption, which was an act of people imagining nothing great respecting him. Nonetheless, they exhibited very loving affection. But how is it that not one of the Twelve came, neither John, nor Peter nor any other of the more distinguished disciples? . . . Joseph came despite his fear. It seems to me that Joseph was a man of high rank (as is clear from the funeral) and known to Pilate, which is why he obtained the favor. And then he buried him, not as a criminal, but magnificently after the Jewish fashion, as some great and admirable person.

From Homilies on the Gospel of John 85.3 by John Chyrsostom, quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IVb, John 11-21, edited by Joel C. Elowsky (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2007).

Daily Reading for August 2 • The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

For Christ is our Bread because Christ is Life, and bread is life. "I am," says he, "the Bread of life." And, a little above he says, "The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven." Then we find, too, that his body is reckoned in bread: "This is my body." And so, in petitioning for "daily bread," we ask for perpetuity in Christ and indivisibility from his body. But, because "bread" is admissible in a carnal sense too, it cannot be so used without the religious remembrance of spiritual discipline. For the Lord commands that bread be prayed for which is the only food necessary for believers.

From On Prayer by Tertullian, quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IVa, John 1-10, edited by Joel C. Elowsky (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2006).

Daily Reading for August 3 • William Edward Burghardt DuBois, Sociologist, 1963

They that walked in darkness sang songs in the olden days—Sorrow Songs—for they were weary at heart. And so before each thought that I have written in this book I have set a phrase, a haunting echo of these weird old songs in which the soul of the black slave spoke to men. Ever since I was a child these songs have stirred me strangely. They came out of the South unknown to me, one by one, and yet at once I knew them as of me and of mine. Then in after years when I came to Nashville I saw the great temple builded of these songs towering over the pale city. To me Jubilee Hall seemed ever made of the songs themselves, and its bricks were red with the blood and dust of toil. Out of them rose for me morning, noon, and night, bursts of wonderful melody, full of the voices of my brothers and sisters, full of the voices of the past.

Little of beauty has America given the world save the rude grandeur God himself stamped on her bosom; the human spirit in this new world has expressed itself in vigor and ingenuity rather than in beauty. And so by fateful chance the Negro folk-song—the rhythmic cry of the slave—stands to-day not simply as the sole American music, but as the most beautiful expression of human experience born this side the seas. It has been neglected, it has been, and is, half despised, and above all it has been persistently mistaken and misunderstood; but notwithstanding, it still remains as the singular spiritual heritage of the nation and the greatest gift of the Negro people.

From The Souls of Black Folk by W. E. B. Du Bois (1903); found at http://onlinebooks.library.upenn.edu/webbin/gutbook/lookup?num=408

Daily Reading for August 4

The cross of Christ is transformative. In the resurrection the worst that humankind can inflict is lifted up, transformed, and made new. Christ’s materiality enables his solidarity with us, and his two-personhood holds the human and the divine together in a cosmic oneness. The Incarnation calls us into relationship with God whereby we participate in the realization of God’s kingdom on earth. Far from letting us off the hook, the Incarnation calls us into union with God, to bear witness to the damage we have caused and to participate in God’s redemptive plan for all life.

The vision of restoration of the coming kingdom for all creation defines and shapes our present tasks and sets our priorities. This vision guides and motivates our responsibilities in and for all creation. We are called to order our lives in terms of the values and shape of the coming kingdom. We are reminded that the ecological destruction that threatens all life is the result of human us-first-ness, our harmful industrial processes, and our individualized lifestyles and habits. We are called to work toward the vision of life renewed, to a vision that honors all of creation.

The church’s mission of redemption in the world, grounded as it is in the good news of Christ, cannot be separated from social justice and healing the earth. Moreover, social and environmental ethics and practice are not disembodied, but must be intimately grounded in worship and the sacraments. When we partake of the bread and wine during the Eucharist, the central expression of the Incarnation in worship, we are embodying our relationship with Christ and with all materiality. The redemptive promise of the Eucharist empowers us to go forth to do God’s work in the world. Christian liturgy, with its daily and annual cycles that observe the cosmic activity of darkness and light and the passing of the seasons, offers rich opportunity to bring our sacramental connection to all creation through Christ Jesus into sharper focus. Through our worship we can reclaim ancient wisdom and orient ourselves to an understanding that we and this wounded earth are all gathered to Christ and in Christ, and are called to work together for a new creation.

From “‘For God So Loved the World’: An Incarnational Ecology” by Martha Kirkpatrick, in Anglican Theological Review 91, no 2 (Spring 2009): 191-212.

Daily Reading for August 5

Music can change everything. It can take over a room, leaving no one uninvolved or untouched. Even when it is scripted, paired with text, it ultimately leaves words behind and with them, thought. It takes us to resonant places inside our bodies—lungs, diaphragm, throat, skull—but also to “states of experience” that are, strictly speaking, no place at all. And there is an additional comfort: you do not have to be “good” at music to be transported by it, most especially if you experience it with others. Beatitude loves company.

I remember thinking of all of this at a performance of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion. At first it struck me that each of us was listening on our own. Some were riveted throughout; others came and went with the recitatives; still others paid attention fully only during the chorales. Every audience is a motley crew. Yet at the end when it came time for applause I realized that, wherever I had been taken individually by the music, I did not go there alone. All of us were transported.

Many of the things that otherwise seem so important fade from view in such beatific moments. That evening I entered a dimension of meaning and beauty that I know very little about, but which I have been graced to discover, willy-nilly, from time to time. Trying to keep my believing nimble, I go back and forth, consider such surges of well-being to be a once-in-a-blue-moon high tide of serotonin and a foretaste of the world to come—or a taste of the world existing right here and now that shows itself whenever we are able to notice it.

From Undiscovered Country: Imagining the World to Come by Peter S. Hawkins. Copyright © 2009. Used by permission of Church Publishing Incorporated, New York, NY. www.churchpublishing.org

Daily Reading for August 6 • The Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ

The choirs of ransomed Israel,
The Red Sea’s passage o’er,
Uprais’d the hymn of triumph
Upon the further shore:
And shouted, as the foeman
Was whelmed beneath the sea,—
‘Sing we to Judah’s Saviour,
For glorified is He!’

Amongst His Twelve Apostles
Christ spake the Words of Life,
And showed a realm of beauty
Beyond a world of strife:
‘When all My Father’s glory
Shall shine expressed in Me,
Then praise Him, then exalt Him,
For magnified is He!’

Upon the Mount of Tabor
The promise was made good;
When, baring all the Godhead,
In light itself He stood:
And they, in awe beholding,
The Apostolic Three,
Sang out to God their Saviour,
For magnified was He!

In days of old, on Sinai,
The Lord of Sabaoth came,
In majesty of terror,
In thunder-cloud and flame:
On Tabor, with the glory
Of sunniest light for vest,
The excellence of beauty
In Jesus was expressed.

All hours and days inclined there,
And did Thee worship meet,
The sun himself adored Thee,
And bowed him at Thy feet:
While Moses and Elias,
Upon the Holy Mount,
The co-eternal glory
Of Christ our God recount.

O holy, wonderous Vision!
But what, when this life past,
The beauty of Mount Tabor
Shall end in Heav’n at last?
But what, when all the glory
Of uncreated light
Shall be the promised guerdon
Of them that win the fight?

A Transfiguration hymn of Cosmas the Melodist (760), translated by John Mason Neale in Hymns of the Eastern Church; found at http://www.ccel.org/ccel/neale/easternhymns.H32.html

Daily Reading for August 7 • John Mason Neale, Priest, 1866

The following translations have occupied a portion of my leisure time for the last twelve years: and some of them have already appeared in more than one ecclesiastical periodical. So has also great part of the Introduction.

It is a most remarkable fact, and one which shows how very little interest has been hitherto felt in the Eastern Church, that these are literally, I believe, the only English versions of any part of the treasures of Oriental Hymnology. There is scarcely a first or second-rate hymn of the Roman Breviary which has not been translated: of many we have six or eight versions. The eighteen quarto volumes of Greek Church-poetry can only at present be known to the English reader by my little book.

Yet surely, if in the future Hymnal of the English Church we are to build an eclectic superstructure on the foundation of the Sarum Book, the East ought to yield its full share of compositions. And hence, I cannot but marvel that the compilers of eclectic Hymnals, such as the (modern) Sarum, the Hymns Ancient and Modern, and others, have never turned to this source. Here was a noble field open to them; and to me it is incomprehensible that they should have so utterly neglected it.

There are difficulties in the task to which it is as well to revert. Though the superior terseness and brevity of the Latin Hymns renders a translation which shall represent these qualities a work of great labour, yet still the versifier has the help of the same meter; his version may be line for line; and there is a great analogy between the Collects and the Hymns, most helpful to the translator. Above all, we have examples enough of former translation by which we may take pattern.

But in attempting a Greek Canon, from the fact of its being in prose—(metrical Hymns, as the reader will learn, are unknown,)—one is all at sea. What measure shall we employ? why this more than that? Might we attempt the rhythmical prose of the original, and design it to be chanted? Again, the great length of the Canons renders them unsuitable for our churches, as wholes. Is it better simply to form centos of the more beautiful passages? or can separate Odes, each necessarily imperfect, be employed as separate Hymns? And above all, we have no pattern or example of any kind to direct our labour.

These questions, and many others, have as yet received no reply; but will, in time, no doubt, work out their answer. My own belief is, that the best way to employ Greek Hymnology for the uses of the English Church would be by centos.

I trust the reader will not forget the immense difficulty of an attempt so perfectly new as the present, where I have had no predecessors, and therefore could have no master. If I have opened the way for others to do better what I have done imperfectly, I shall have every reason to be thankful.

From the Preface to the First Edition of Hymns from the Eastern Church, by John Mason Neale (London: J. T. Hayes, 1862).

Daily Reading for August 8 • Dominic, Priest and Friar, 1221

Sometimes, when he was in a convent, our holy father Dominic would stand upright before the altar, not leaning on anything or supported by anything, but with his whole body standing straight up on his feet. Sometimes he would hold his hands out, open, before his breast, like an open book, and then he would stand with great reverence and devotion, as if he were reading in the presence of God. Then in his prayer he would appear to be pondering the words of God and, as it were, enjoying reciting them to himself.

At other times, he joined his hands and held them tightly fastened together in front of his eyes, hunching himself up. At other times he raised his hands to his shoulders, in the manner of a priest saying Mass, as if he wanted to fix his ears more attentively on something that was being said to him by somebody else. If you had seen his devotion as he stood there erect in prayer, you would have thought you were looking at a prophet conversing with an angel or with God, now talking, now listening, now thinking quietly about what had been revealed to him.

From the Fifth Way of Prayer in “The Nine Ways of Prayer of St. Dominic,” in Early Dominicans: Selected Writings by Simon Tugwell, in the Classics of Western Spirituality series (Mahwah, N.J.: Paulist Press, 1982).

Daily Reading for August 9 • The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

In effect, Jesus is saying, "I am the bread of life," not bodily bread, which merely eliminates the physical suffering brought on by hunger, but rather that bread that refashions the entire living being to eternal life. The human being, who had been created for eternal life, is now given power over death.

From Commentary on the Gospel of John 3.6 by Cyril of Alexandria, quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IVa, John 1-10, edited by Joel C. Elowsky (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2006).

Daily Reading for August 10 • Laurence, Deacon and Martyr at Rome, 258

Eloquence may be suitable for exhortation, reason may be effective in persuasion, but examples are more forceful than words, and it is better to teach by deeds than by words. Lawrence, the blessed martyr, whose suffering makes this day illustrious, was renowned with great honor in this preeminent kind of teaching. Even his persecutors could feel this, when that marvelous courage of soul, born chiefly from the love of Christ, not only did not yield itself, but even strengthened others by the example of its endurance. When the fury of pagan powers raged against some of the most chosen members of Christ and especially sought out those who were of priestly rank, the wicked persecutor was inflamed against the deacon Lawrence, who stood out not only in the ministry of the Sacraments, but also in the administration of ecclesiastical goods.

This agent banked on a double reward from the arrest of one man, for if he could make him an embezzler of the Church’s money, he would also make him a traitor to the true religion. . . . He insists that the ecclesiastical wealth he so avidly desired be brought to him by the untarnished keeper of the treasury. This most virtuous deacon, showing him where he kept them hidden, presented the countless flocks of the holy poor. It was for their food and clothing that he had secured resources that could not be lost. He took care of these resources all the more carefully, since the expenditures had been approved for so holy a purpose. . . .

Let us then take joy, dearly beloved, with a spiritual joy, in the most blessed end of this celebrated man. Let us glory in the Lord who is “wonderful in his saints,” in whom he established a protection and an example for us. He has so illumined his own glory through the whole world that, from east to west, where the brilliance of the lights of his deacons shines, as Jerusalem has become renowned for Stephen, so Rome has become as renowned for Lawrence.

From Sermon 85 on the Feast of St. Lawrence (10 August 446-461?), quoted in The Fathers of the Church: St. Leo the Great, Sermons, translated by Jane Patricia Freeland, C.S.J.B. and Agnes Josephine Conway, S.S.J. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1996).

Daily Reading for August 11 • Clare, Abbess of Assisi, 1253

St. Francis himself passed through a period of despair lasting two years. One of his biographers, Father Isidore O'Brien, attributed this to the fear that his rule of poverty would be modified, to his disillusionment over the gross behaviour of many of the Crusaders, and to his increasing physical blindness. Yet clearly there was something deeply wrong in himself. He withdrew from the world, he who had asked to be the instrument of God's peace. He visited no more the convent of the Poor Clares, lest it should be a source of scandal. It was Clare herself who used all her holiness and skill to restore him to himself. She appealed to him to visit them and not forsake them. The visit was a failure. He did not preach to them as was his custom. Instead, he sprinkled ashes upon his head and recited the psalm, Miserere mei, Deus. Then he left them.

Clare would not accept defeat. In Father O'Brien's significant words, she saw that "Francis needed human help to draw him out of himself." She next asked to be allowed to dine with the brothers at Porziuncola, and so great was her insistence that Francis could not deny her. The story of her visit is then told in The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi:

"When Clare arrived at the Portiuncula, she went into the chapel of St. Mary of the Angels, and devoutly saluted the Virgin Mary, before whose altar her hair had been cut off when she received the veil. Meanwhile Francis set out the meal on the bare ground, as was his custom. Then he and one of the brothers, and Clare and the sister who had accompanied her, sat down together, surrounded by the rest of the brothers, sitting humbly round them. When the first dish was served, Francis began to speak of God so sweetly, so sublimely, and in a manner so wonderful, that the grace of God fell upon them all, and all were rapt in Christ. Now the people of Assisi and Bettona saw St. Mary of the Angels as it were on fire, with the convent and the woods adjoining. The people of Assisi hastened with great speed to put out the fire, but on arriving they saw no fire, only Francis and Clare and all their companions sitting around their humble meal on the ground. Then they knew that what they had seen was a celestial fire."

From Instrument of Thy Peace by Alan Paton (New York: The Seabury Press, 1968).

Daily Reading for August 12 • Florence Nightingale, Nurse, Social Reformer, 1910

Much confusion exists in the ordinary, popular mind about the much-used and much-abused words salvation and damnation. The ordinary/popular idea seems to be that of a God who sits like a chairman of Quarter Sessions or rather like the Lord Chief Justice and deals out sentences according to the verdict of acquittal or guilt. Is not this the lowest possible idea of God? Attached to this, but unworthy even of a Lord Chief Justice, is the idea that there is a certain quantum of suffering which God chooses to dose out to His creatures—one does not see exactly why—if one does not have it, another must.

We hear much talk of a "better world.” Suppose this world is the better world. But how can this be; is hell the better world? If there is a scheme in God's government for bringing each one of us to perfection by God's laws in eternity, then is not each stage of this eternity a "better world,” the best of worlds? Perfection, salvation, life, eternal life, these are all synonymous. Yet few there be who find salvation or perfection (in this life), yet we are all to be perfect. As far we can understand, for human creatures perfection is only infinite capability of progress. As far as we can understand, God's government is that of laws by which people are perpetually progressing; humankind that is, not always the individual person, is the supplying means and inducements to infinite progress. He has said humankind shall create humanity, and this humankind shall have eternity to do it in. Why should we despair? Is not all eternity ours? . . .

Salvation is not a place or a time. It is a state, a state always progressing but always here. It is represented in the scriptures by the word "life.” If anyone will take the pains of looking through all the passages where our Lord or St Paul make use of the word "life” he will perhaps be surprised to see how constantly it is used in this sense, as a thing present, a salvation not to come but here.

From Florence Nightingale's sermon "Strait is the Gate"; found at http://www.sociology.uoguelph.ca/fnightingale/spirituality/straitgate.htm

Daily Reading for August 13 • Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Down, Conner and Dromore, 1667

Enjoy the present, whatever it is, and do not be anxious about the future. For if you take your foot from the present and thrust it forward into tomorrow's events, you are in a restless condition. It is like refusing to quench your present thirst by fearing that you will lack drink the next day. If you would secure a contented spirit, you must measure your desires by your condition, not vice versa. Be governed by your needs, not your fancy.

Let us prepare our minds for changes, always expecting them, so that we are not surprised when they come, for nothing is so great an enemy to a contented spirit as the amazement and confusion of unreadiness. The rich man who had promised himself ease and plenty for many years was sadly surprised the first night, but the apostles, who knocked at the gate of death every day, went to their martyrdom in peace and composure.

Let us often remind ourselves how desirable health is to a sick man, or liberty to a prisoner. Remember that God has given you a blessing which is infinitely more than your present debt or poverty or loss. You are protected from a thousand calamities, every one of which, if it came upon you, would make you insensible to your present sorrow. Therefore let your joy for your freedom from them be as great as is your sadness when you feel any of them. Unless we are extremely foolish, thankless or senseless, a great joy is more apt to cure sorrow and discontent than a great trouble is. What wise man would not prefer a small fortune with peace to a great one with contention and war?

From Holy Living by Jeremy Taylor, edited and modernized by Hal M. Helms (Orleans, Mass.: Paraclete Press, 1988).

Daily Reading for August 14 • Jonathan Myrick Daniels, Seminarian and Martyr, 1965

The disappointments of Holy Week and the bitterness of [the segregated seating in the left rear pew for] Easter Communion at St. Paul's forced our eyes back to the inscription over the altar. "He is not here. For he is risen." In a dreadful parody of their meaning, the words seem to tell a grim truth that was not exhausted by their liturgical import.

This is the stuff of which our life is made. There are moments of joy and moments of sorrow. Almost imperceptibly, some men grow in grace. Some men don't. Christian hope, grounded in the reality of Easter, must never degenerate into optimism. For that is the road of despair. Yet it ought never to conclude that because its proper end is heaven, the church may dally at its work until the End is in sight. The thought of the church is fraught with tensions because the life of the church is caught in tension. For the individual Christian and the far-flung congregation alike, that is part of the reality of the Cross. There are good men here, just as there are bad men. There are competent leaders and a bungler here and there. We have activists who risk their lives to confront a people with the challenge of freedom and a nation with its conscience. We have neutralists who cautiously seek to calm troubled waters. We have men about the work of reconciliation who are willing to reflect upon the cost and pay it. Perhaps at one time or another, the two of us are all of these. Sometimes we take to the streets, sometimes we yawn through interminable meetings, sometimes we talk with white men in their homes and offices, sometimes we sit out a murderous night with an alcoholic and his family because we love him and cannot stand apart. Sometimes we confront the posse, and sometimes we hold a child. Sometimes we stand with men who have learned to hate, and sometimes we must stand a little apart from them.

Our lives in Selma are filled with ambiguity, and in that we share with men everywhere. We are beginning to see the world as we never saw it before. We are truly in the world, and yet ultimately not of it. For through the bramble bush of doubt and fear and supposed success we are groping our way to the realization that above all else, we are called to be saints. That is the mission of the Church everywhere. And in this Selma, Alabama, is like all the world: it needs the life and witness of militant Saints.

From the sermon "But My Heart is Black," by Jonathan Myrick Daniels; found at http://www.episcopalarchives.org/Afro-Anglican_history/exhibit/pdf/escru_jd_myheartisblack.pdf

Daily Reading for August 15 • Saint Mary the Virgin, Mother of Our Lord Jesus Christ

When the visitor told her
there would be a child
and that she would be
overshadowed by holiness
she felt the holy darkness
that would someday become
the bringer of light.

And thirty-four years later
she stood on a hill
beneath another shadow
a high cross-bar that cut
across her and she held in
the thin air and silence
the elongated and forsaken
shadow of the holy one
she once held as a child.

She wondered as the shadows
gave way into the night
if, in time, light could pierce
like tiny nails, this absorbing dark.

"Shadowing" by Penelope Duckworth, quoted in Mary’s Hours: Daily Prayer with the Mother of God by Penelope Duckworth. Copyright © 2009. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for August 16 • The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

I die (Jesus says) for all, that I may quicken all by myself. And I made my flesh a ransom for the flesh of all. For death shall die in my death, and with me shall rise again (he says) the fallen nature of humankind. That is why I became like you, that is, human and of the seed of Abraham, so that I might be made like in all things to my brothers. . . . For there was no other way for the power of death to be destroyed, as well as death itself, unless Christ gave himself for us as a ransom, one for all, for he was in behalf of all. . . .

Christ therefore gave his own body for the life of all, and again through that body he makes life to dwell in us. Now I will try to tell you how. For since the life-giving Word of God indwelt in the flesh, he transformed it into his own proper good, that is, life, and by the unspeakable character of this union, coming wholly together with it, rendered it life-giving as he himself is by nature. Wherefore the body of Christ gives life to all who partake of it.

From Commentary on the Gospel of John 4.2 by Cyril of Alexandria, quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IVa, John 1-10, edited by Joel C. Elowsky (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2006).

Daily Reading for August 17 • Samuel Johnson, 1772, Timothy Cutler, 1765, and Thomas Bradbury Chandler, 1790, Priests

Mr. Johnson was always of a serious and devout turn of mind, but averse to every appearance of enthusiasm; and he never could be thoroughly reconciled to the practice of public extempore praying and preaching, which he looked upon as the great engines of enthusiasm. When at college he had conceived an aversion to extempore prayers, by observing the use that was made of them there, and the tendency of this practice to promote self-conceit and spiritual pride. The scholars, in his time, frequently held private meetings for prayer; and those of them that had acquired something of a talent at extempore praying could not forbear appearing vain of it: one, in particular, who was allowed to excel in that way, had the vanity frequently to boast of his gifts. On the other hand, some modest young gentlemen, of good sense and fair character, who wanted the assurance to pray in this manner, were discountenanced and despised.

Mr. Johnson could not avoid making the conclusion that it would be much better to have our prayers pre-composed, with due care and attention. . . . When a form of prayer is used, we have nothing else to do than to offer up our hearts with our words, which, indeed, is the only proper business of prayer. He had been educated under strong prejudices against the Church of England, of which he knew but very little; but the next year (1716) the Book of Common Prayer was, for the first time, put into his hands, by one Mr. Smithson, a pious member of the church, who had lately settled in Guilford. On perusing the Liturgy, he found that it chiefly consisted of a very judicious collection of sentiments and expressions out of the holy scriptures; and these he had always reverenced and loved. This inspected caused all his prejudices against the Liturgy of the Church of England entirely to vanish.

From The Life of Samuel Johnson, D.D. by Thomas Bradbury Chandler (New York: T.&J. Swords, 1805).

Daily Reading for August 18 • William Porcher DuBose, Priest, 1918

DuBose's emphasis on the role of experience in the process of salvation underscores the theological significance of Turning Points. Indeed, DuBose's spiritual autobiography was the major theological publication that revealed and developed his theological method in terms of the central role of human experience. Turning Points was a major theological work, akin to Augustine's Confessions. It spells out "the presence and vitality of the Word of God" in DuBose's life. The central role of human experience in his theological method comes across even more clearly here than in his other theological writings because he use the personal details of his conversion, suffering, discovery, and transformation as the experiential basis for his theological reflection.

It was toward the end of the Civil War, after the Confederate defeat at the battle of Cedar Creek in Virginia, that DuBose had a moment of shock and realization. That night his brigade slept behind a line of battle for the first time in the war. At this moment he realized the impossibility of success for the Confederate cause and the world he had known all his life. He "felt as if everything was gone! The end of the world was upon me as completely as upon the Romans when the barbarians had overrun them." With respect to his moment of recognition "under the stars" that the Confederate cause was lost, DuBose states that "such an experience can never be altogether lost, and I go back to it at times for such a sense of the utter extinction of the world, and presence of only the Eternal and the Abiding, as is seldom vouchsafed to one." He recalls that "the actual issue was all upon me that fateful night in which, under the stars, alone upon the planet, without home or country or any earthly interest of object before me, my very world at an end, I redevoted myself wholly and only to God, and to the work and life of His Kingdom, whatever and wherever that might be."

From The Theology of William Porcher DuBose: Life, Movement, and Being by Robert Boak Slocum (University of South Carolina Press, 2000).

Daily Reading for August 19

Men and women do not make this journey alone. They turn for help and support to their anamchara, a spiritual friend or soul-friend, one who offers anamachairdeas or spiritual direction. This, which is peculiar to Celtic spirituality, is, as so often in the Irish Church, something that had existed before the arrival of Christianity. Every Celtic chief had his counselor or druid at court, whose guidance he followed. The legends of St. Patrick represent him as replacing Dubthach the pagan adviser to the high king Laoghaire and becoming in his place anamchara to the king. That well-known aphorism that anyone without a soul-friend is like a body without a head is attributed both to St. Brigit and to St. Comgall. So important indeed was the role of the anamchara in monastic life that it was said that following the guidance of one's soul-friend was of more importance than subjection to a Rule.

This was not, however, something confined to courtly or even to monastic circles. It was quite common for lay men and women to be soul-friends. The relationships might well be between a man and a woman, between clerical and lay.

"As the members of the body diligently help one another,
So let each show a special sign of love
For his fellow who is in pain of soul."

From Every Earthly Blessing: Rediscovering the Celtic Tradition by Esther de Waal. Copyright © 1991. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for August 20 • Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux, 1153

When the Word departs it is a though you were to remove the fire from beneath a boiling pot. Immediately the water becomes lifeless and lukewarm and begins to cool. For me this is the sign of his departure and my soul necessarily feels sad until he comes back. The usual sign of his return is that my heart within me begins to warm.

Because this has been my experience with the Word, what wonder that I use the words of the bride in calling him back after he has gone away. I am moved by the same sort of desire as she, even though mine is imperfect and less intense. As long as I live, my habitual manner of recalling the Word will be that word of recall: “Return.” Whenever he slips away, I will not cease to call out, my cry following him as he goes. And with the cry is the burning desire of my heart that he return, that he come back to give me the joy of his saving help, to give me himself.

I say this much to you, children. As long as he is absent, who is the only source of my enjoyment, nothing else can bring me pleasure. I pray that he will not return empty-handed, but that he will come back in his usual way, full of grace and truth, just as he did yesterday and the day before. It seems to me that this is why he shows himself like a roe and a young hart: truth has the eyes of a roe and grace has the joyfulness of the young hart.

From How the Word Visits the Soul by Bernard of Clairvaux, quoted in The Benedictine Tradition: Spirituality in History, edited and introduced by Laura Swan, a volume in the Spirituality in History Series (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2007).

Daily Reading for August 21

There was a time when I would have identified only those who loved me and whom I loved as grace-bearers. They were the ones with whom I felt most “at one.” Our mutual trust, our mutual giving and concern, caring and compassion were, I thought, intimations of God’s outgoing love for us. We were filled by God, uplifted by God, and we knew we belonged to God.

Finally I came to perceive that even those who would put me down, who were set against me (wanted my job, wished me to fail, or whatever) in some curious way were also revealing something of God’s Spirit to me. God wanted me to see him in those flawed relationships as well as in the “comfortable” ones. I came to see, for example, that the arrogance I detected in someone set against me existed in some measure in me as well: “Who does he think he is?” Well, who do I think I am? In an increasing number of relationships I considered broken or antagonistic, it was clear that someone or something was trying to reveal some truth about my own nature.

Who was that Spirit? My dear friend, the late Cardinal Archbishop of Boston, Humberto Medeiros, used to say, “Jesus comes into my office every day in each person who comes to see me. Sometimes he comes in deep disguise.” We can usually unmask him if we wait and do not panic or hit back, if we pray for the discerning eye of faith and then look at ourselves again. God’s love comes through every kind of human relationship. God’s creation is permeated with grace. Keep your eye open to see it. Watch. Pay attention.

From Grace in All Things by John B. Coburn (Cambridge, Mass.: Cowley Publications, 1995).

Daily Reading for August 22

In the early years of the twentieth century it was widely assumed that eventually we would discover the explanation for the workings of the universe and its origins. Now, in the early years of the twenty-first, we have rediscovered the humbling, ancient truth—that we live in a fathomless and transcendent mystery.

By an inexplicable process, we were brought into life from stardust. Daily it provides us with all the wonders and challenges of existence: spring breezes, loyalty, wildflowers, curiosity, mountains, consciousness, poems, friendship, tragedy, laughter, fear, trust, joy, death, birth, clouds, love, sexuality, tigers, songbirds, struggle, gain, loss, integrity, duplicity, oceans, economic forces, concern, trees, doubt, and faith—in short, with all that is. And when we look deep inside ourselves to discover what we are, we find that the answer to that question is as much an unsolved puzzle as the origin of the universe.

The world in which we live is infinite in every direction and in time. Our universe has no edge, yet the notion of an area without a boundary is inconceivable. We have no answer to such questions as: Why does anything exist at all? Scientists may refer to reality, theologians may refer to God, but they speak of the same enigma.

From A Prayer Book for the 21st Century by John McQuiston II. Copyright © 2004. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for August 23 • The Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

We all know, we who possess complete faith in Christ,
That as we approach, eager for the mystic bread
And in addition take the cup of salvation,
If we are of pure heart and without dissimulation
We are all participants of the flesh and blood
Of Christ with faith in Him, and we hope
From this a life like that of the angels;
For, in very truth, the body of the One who suffered,
The very holy body of Jesus Christ is
The heavenly bread of immortality.

From Kontakion on the Multiplication of Loaves 13.1-3, quoted in Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture: New Testament IVa, John 1-10, edited by Joel C. Elowsky (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2006).

Daily Reading for August 24 • Saint Bartholomew the Apostle

About the time when the Emperor Trajan received the government of the Romans, after Simon the son of Clopas, who was bishop of Jerusalem, had suffered martyrdom in the eighth year of his reign, being the second bishop of the church there after James who bore the name of brother of the Lord, Philip the apostle, going through the cities and regions of Lydia and Asia, preached to all the Gospel of Christ.

And having come to the city of Ophioryma, which is called Hierapolis of Asia, he was entertained by a certain believer, Stachys by name. And there was with him also Bartholomew, one of the seventy disciples of the Lord, and his sister Mariamme, and his disciples that followed him. All the men of the city therefore, having left their work, ran to the house of Stachys, hearing about the works which Philip did. And many men and women having assembled in the house of Stachys, Philip along with Bartholomew taught them the things of Jesus.

And Philip’s sister Mariamme, sitting in the entry of the house of Stachys, addressed herself to those coming, persuading them to listen to the apostles, saying, “God has come through us to you as a father to his own children, wishing to have mercy upon you, and to deliver you from the wicked snare of the enemy. Flee from the evil lusts of the enemy, and cast them completely out of your mind, hating openly the father of evils, and loving Jesus, who is light, and life, and truth, and the Saviour of all who desire Him. Having run, therefore, to Him, take hold of Him in love, that He may bring you up out of the pit of the wicked, and having cleansed you, set you blameless, living in truth, in the presence of His Father.”. . .

And these things having been said by Philip, Bartholomew and Mariamme and his disciples, and Stachys being along with him, all the people gave ear, and a great multitude of them fleeing from the enemy were turned to Jesus, and were added to Philip and those about him. And the faithful were the more confirmed in the love of Christ.

From The Acts of Philip; quoted at http://www.ccel.org/ccel/schaff/anf08.vii.xxviii.i.html

Daily Reading for August 25 • Louis, King of France, 1270

The King was so liberal an almsgiver, that wherever he went throughout his kingdom, he made gifts to poor churches, to lazar-houses, to alms houses, to asylums, and to poor gentlemen and gentlewomen. From his childhood up, he was compassionate towards the poor and the suffering; and it was the custom that, wherever he went, six score poor should always be replenished in his house with bread and wine, and meat or fish every day. In Lent and Advent, the number was increased, and many a time the King would wait on them, and place their meat before them, and would carve their meat before them, and with his own hand would give them money when they went away. Likewise on the high vigils of solemn feasts, he would serve the poor with all these things, before he either ate or drank. Besides all this, he had every day old broken-down men to dine and sup with him, and had them served with the same food that he himself was eating. And when they had feasted, they took away with them a certain sum of silver.

Over and above all these things, the King used every day to give large and liberal alms to poor men of religion, to poor asylums, to the sick poor, and all sorts of poor colleges, to poor gentlemen and married women and spinsters, to fallen women, to poor widows, and to women in child-bed, and to such poor as by reason of old age or sickness were unable to labour or pursue their trade in number past all telling.

In all the towns of his realm where he had never been before, he would seek out the Preachers and Grey Friars, if there were any, and desire their prayers. From the very first, when he came into his kingdom and to years of discretion, he began building monasteries and various religious houses, amongst which the Abbey of Royaumont bears the palm for eminence and renown. He founded the Abbey of St. Anthony near Paris; and the Abbey of St. Matthew of Rouen, into which he put women of the order of Preaching Friars; and that of Longchamp for women of the Minorite order; and endowed them highly. He allowed his mother to found the Abbey of Liz by Melun-sur-Seine, and that of Pontoise, which is called Maubuisson.

He founded several almshouses; also he founded the Blind Asylum near Paris to receive the blind of the city of Paris, and had a chapel built for them to hear divine service. And the good King built the Charterhouse outside Paris, and assigned sufficient revenues to the monks who dwelt there for the service of Our Lord. Shortly afterwards he had another house built outside Paris, which was called the House of the Daughters of God, and caused a great number of women to be boarded there, who by reason of poverty had fallen into the sin of wantonness, and granted them four hundred pounds’ worth of revenue to support them. Also in many places of his kingdom he founded houses of female Begouins, and gave them revenues to live upon, and gave orders to admit such as gave promise of a chaste life.

Some of his kindred used to grumble at his liberal almsgiving, and because he spent so much on this kind of thing; but he used to say: “I would much rather be extravagant in alms, for the love of God, than in the pomp and vainglories of this world.”

From The Memoirs of the Lord of Joinville by Ethel Wedgwood (New York: E.P. Dutton and Co., 1906).

Daily Reading for August 26

When we live our lives competitively, it is easy to carry that worldview across to our faith. If salvation is a competition, some must win and others must lose. If God loves the winners, then we must hide our sins deep rather than bringing them to the surface in repentance. If God loves the winners and condemns the losers, then so must we. But if God keeps messing up the competition by throwing the game—becoming a servant even though he could be a king, dying on a cross instead of conquering Rome, saying that the wealthy ones are those who give everything away—then our worldview looks a bit different. What if Kingdom life is about cooperation rather than competition?

If that’s the case, God might not be pleased that we never missed a Sunday in church if we used our weekly attendance to smugly put down those who only came on Christmas and Easter. We might get to the pearly gates far ahead of the pack, only to find that no one is allowed in alone. When another mom in the playgroup has a child who is slow to learn, maybe proving the superiority of your child is not the answer.

Being God with skin on for our peers means putting aside our competitive instincts to be sure that everyone succeeds. Jesus makes it quite plain that being his disciple means living very differently from the world. In this case, it means giving up on entering the “rat race,” the competition with others for life’s toys and resources. There is no drive to keep up with the Joneses in Kingdom life. Like Paul in Philippians 4:12, we learn to be content with what we have. We don’t seek to be proven better than others in competition. We take whatever gifts we have been given, tie them around our waists, and use them to serve others.

From God with Skin On: Finding God’s Love in Human Relationships by Anne Robertson. Copyright © 2009. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for August 27 • Thomas Gallaudet, 1902, with Henry Winter Syle, 1890

Our Saviour, being the everlasting Word by whom all things were made, could use the imagery of the natural world more strikingly and appropriately than any one else, to set forth and illustrate the great moral principles which he came to promulgate and enforce. How clearly and powerfully does he teach us, by his reference to the growth of the seed, that the doctrines of the everlasting gospel—the principles of the kingdom of God, of which he was the Head—produce their effects upon the hearts of mankind in a silent, gradual, mysterious, unfathomable manner, —that the ripe fruit of Christian character comes at length from the planting in the soul of the germ of the new spiritual life. Our Lord also doubtless intended to teach his apostles that the growth of the spiritual kingdom of the faithful, brought into outward communion by baptism, should start from feeble beginnings and have such a strangely gradual, yet vigorous growth, that they should not know how the work went on.

My brethren, I trust that it will not be considered presumptuous, if, upon this wonderful day of our own parochial life, we venture to illustrate the preceding general views by reference to our own feeble beginnings and subsequent growth. We are an integral portion of the Church of Christ, which has spread upward and outward from the grain of mustard seed. We are, therefore, subject to the same mysterious laws which have marked its growth. Though a young and humble parish, we, this day, fully and joyously, as we take possession of these beautiful and singularly appropriate consecrated courts, stand side by side with those parishes which have in time's progress become venerable and stable, as a Christian church—as a centre of the high and holy influences which, by God's blessing, result in that mysterious spiritual growth of which we have spoken. As we contrast our present cheering position with the one which we occupied less than seven short years ago, we are conscious of genuine, amazing growth, and yet we know not how it has taken place. We can set before our mental eyes a few striking scenes which have characterized our progress; we can speak of having used, faithfully and prayerfully, we trust, the means which God has given us; we can point to scores of earnest friends, who have successively appeared just at the right time to accomplish some very desirable end; we can tell of money flowing quietly into our treasury, in sufficient sums to sustain our gradually increasing growth; we can sketch the history of St. Ann's Church for Deaf-Mutes, and can say that it has accomplished something for the glory of God and the good of man; —and yet, after all, we know not how our present comparative symmetry has been worked out of our inexperienced, crude beginnings. We must, with deep humility and gratitude, exclaim, that the compassionate Being who notices the fall of every sparrow, and numbers the very hairs of our heads, has worked with us, has watched over us, has blessed us; and, in conformity with his mysterious laws of growth, has brought us to this bright and happy day.

From The Sermon Delivered upon the Occasion of St. Ann's Church for Deaf-Mutes Commencing its Services at the Church in Eighteenth Street, Near Fifth Avenue on August 7, 1859, by the Rev. Thomas Gallaudet, Rector (New York: George F. Nesbitt, 1859). Found at http://anglicanhistory.org/usa/gallaudet/opening1859.html

Daily Reading for August 28 • Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, and Theologian, 430 and Moses the Black, Desert Father and Martyr, c. 400

In Scetis a brother was once found guilty. They assembled the brothers, and sent a message to Moses telling him to come. But he would not come. Then the presbyter sent again saying, “Come, for the gathering of monks is waiting for you.” Moses got up and went. He took with him an old basket, which he filled with sand and carried on his back. They went to meet him and said, “What does this mean, abba?” He said, “My sins run out behind me and I do not see them and I have come here today to judge another.” They listened to him and said no more to the brother who had sinned, but forgave him.

From The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks by Benedicta Ward, SLG (New York: Penguin Books, 2003).

Daily Reading for August 29 • John Bunyan, Writer, 1688

And now I am speaking my experience I will in this place thrust in a word or two concerning my preaching the Word, and of God’s dealing with me in that particular also. After I had been about five or six years awakened, and helped myself to see both the want and worth of Jesus Christ our Lord, and also enabled to venture my soul upon him, some of the most able among the saints with us, I say, the most able for judgment and holiness of life, as they conceived did perceive that God had counted me worthy to understand something of his will in his holy and blessed Word, and had given me utterance in some measure to express what I saw to others, for edification; therefore they desired me, and that with much earnestness, that I would be willing at sometimes to take in hand, in one of the meetings, to speak a word of exhortation unto them.

The which, though at the first it did much dash and abash my spirit, yet being still by them desired and entreated, I consented to their request, and did twice at two several assemblies, but in private, though with much weakness and infirmity, discover my gift amongst them, at which they not only seemed to be, but did frequently protest, as in the sight of the great God, they were both affected and comforted, and gave thanks to the Father of mercies for the grace bestowed on me.

Wherefore, to be brief, at last, being still desired by the church, after some solemn prayer to the Lord, with fasting, I was more particularly called forth, and appointed to a more ordinary and public preaching of the Word, not only to and amongst them that believed, but also to offer the Gospel to those who had not yet received the faith thereof; about which time I did evidently find in my mind a secret pricking forward thereto, though I bless God, not for desire of vain-glory, for at that time I was most sorely afflicted with the fiery darts of the devil concerning my eternal state.

But yet I could not be content unless I was found in the exercise of my gift, unto which also I was greatly animated, not only by the continual desires of the godly, but also by that saying of Paul to the Corinthians: “I beseech you, brethren, (ye know the house of Stephanus, that it is the first- fruits of Achaia, and that they have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints,) that ye submit yourselves unto such, and to every one that helpeth with us, and laboureth” (1 Cor. xvi. 15, 16). By this text I was made to see that the Holy Ghost never intended that men who have gifts and abilities should bury them in the earth; but rather did command and stir up such to the exercise of their gift, and also did commend those that were apt and ready so to do. “They have addicted themselves to the ministry of the saints.” This scripture in these days did continually run in my mind to encourage me, and strengthen me in this my work for God.

From Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners by John Bunyan (London, 1863).

Daily Reading for August 30 • The Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Our very life and our very body we have exposed in this world as a target for all manner of injury and we endure this injury with patience; shall we, then, be vexed by the deprivation of lesser things? Far be such shame from the servant of Christ, that his patience, trained by greater trials, should fail in trifling ones!

If one tries to provoke you to a fight, there is at hand the admonition of the Lord: “If someone strike thee,” he says, “on the right cheek, turn to him the other also.” Let wrong-doing grow weary from your patience; whoever be struck, the one who strikes, weighed down by pain and shame, will suffer more severely from the Lord; by your meekness you will strike a more severe blow to the wrong-doer; for he will suffer at the hands of him by whose grace you practice meekness.

If, with slight forbearance, I hear some bitter or evil remark directed against me, I may return it, and then I shall inevitably be bitter myself. Either that, or I shall be tormented by unexpressed resentment. If, then, I retaliate when cursed, how shall I be found to have followed the teaching of our Lord? For it has been handed down that one is not defiled by unclean dishes, but by the words which proceed from his mouth; and, what is more, that it remains for us to render an account for every vain and idle word.

It follows, then, that our Lord forbids us to do certain acts, but at the same time admonishes us to endure with meekness the same treatment at the hands of another. For every injury, whether occasioned by the tongue or the hand, coming in contact with patience, will meet the same end as a weapon which is flung and dashed upon a hard, unyielding rock. An ineffectual and fruitless action will lose its force immediately and will sometimes vent its passion and strike with the force of a boomerang upon him who sent it forth.

This is true, of course, since one insults you with the intention of causing you pain, because the one who inflicts the injury reaps his reward in the pain of the one injured. Consequently, if you cheat him of his reward by not showing any pain, he will himself inevitably feel pain because he has lost his reward.

From Of Patience by Tertullian, chapter 8.

Daily Reading for August 31 • Aidan, 651, and Cuthbert, 687, Bishops of Lindisfarne

The early foundation on Lindisfarne must have been very simple. Surrounding the site would be a low wall, too low to keep out armies or even wild animals, but symbolic as a barrier against evil. All within was holy, not only the little wooden church and the dwellings and the work places, but each person and each task. Everything was dedicated to God for everything belonged to God. It is likely that each monk had his own simply built wooden cell and he would share this with a student under his guidance and teaching. Unlike the Roman style of tonsure, these monks shaved the front of their heads from ear to ear and let their hair grow long at the back, in the style of Celtic warriors. This was to witness that they were “soldiers for Christ” and dedicated in his service. It was a hard life and called for well-honed young men, not afraid to face considerable danger in fulfilling their mission.

In the early years, Aidan obviously had difficulty with the language of the English. It would have been much easier for Aidan to communicate with the British who shared a similar Celtic dialect. When he preached the gospel to the English, none other than King Oswald acted as his interpreter, in order that his thanes and leaders could hear the good news too. With a king so ready to help it is not surprising that Aidan’s mission flourished, though his own character played a large part: people saw that he practiced what he preached and had an enthusiasm that could only be of God.

From The Holy Island of Lindisfarne by David Adam. Copyright © 2009. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com