Daily Reading for January 1 • The Holy Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ

This day is a new day
that has never been before.
This year is a new year,
the opening door.

Enter, Lord Christ—
We have joy in Your coming.
You have given us life;
And we welcome Your coming. . . .

You have given us life
and we welcome Your coming.
Be with us, Lord,
we have joy, we have joy.
This year is a new year,
the opening door.
Be with us, Lord,
we have joy, we have joy.

A blessing for the new year in Celtic Daily Prayer: Prayers and Readings from the Northumbria Community (New York: HarperOne, 2002).

Daily Reading for January 2 • The Second Sunday after Christmas Day

Is thy heart athirst to know
That the King of heaven and earth
Deigns to dwell with man below,
Yea, hath stoop’d to mortal birth?
Search the Word with ceaseless care
Till thou find this treasure there.

With the sages from afar
Journey on o’er sea and land,
Till thou see the Morning Star
O’er thy heart unchanging stand,
Then shalt thou behold His face
Full of mercy, truth and grace.

For if Christ be born within,
Soon that likeness shall appear
Which the heart had lost through sin,
God’s own image fair and clear,
And the soul serene and bright
Mirrors back His heavenly light.

Jesus, let me seek for nought
But that Thou shouldst dwell in me;
Let this only fill my thought,
How I may grow liker Thee,
Through this earthly care and strife,
Through the calm eternal life.

With the wise who know Thee right,
Though the world accounts them fools,
I will praise Thee day and night,
I will order by Thy rules
All my life, that it may be
Fill’d with praise and love of Thee.

Hymn for the Epiphany by Laurentius Laurenti (1700), in Lyra Germanica: Second Series, The Christian Life, translated from the German by Catherine Winkworth (London: Longman, Green, Longman, Roberts, and Green, 1863).

Daily Reading for January 3 • William Passavant, Prophetic Witness, 1894

Brought together by a power higher than our own, we find ourselves on the virgin soil of this new continent, the representatives of numerous nationalities of the old world. Our childhood, boyhood, manhood, early training, and later education have been widely different, and the associations, modes of thought and local surroundings of each individual have not been without their influence in the formation of our character as a Church. That under these circumstances there should be some diversity of thought, and difference of administration, together with not a few local and national peculiarities, customs and even prejudices, is only what might be expected, is only what could not be otherwise.

But while, in the Lutheran Church in this country this diversity confessedly exists, there exists, at the same time, a unity in diversity which justifies the fraternal declaration, “We be brethren.” We are so in more than one important respect. Brethren in Christ, we stand nearly related to all who in every place call upon Jesus Christ, both their Master and ours. But we are family relations to each other, and a common faith with common usages, associations, labors, aims and hopes, makes us one in a peculiar sense. We belong, not merely to the same army, but to the same regiment; and side by side and shoulder to shoulder we have resisted the same mighty force, stood up against the same deadly charge, endured the same agonizing suffering, and, after the smoke and dust of the battlefield has cleared away, we have together wept over our fallen brethren, or made the sky echo with the exulting shout of victory. Three centuries with their history of trials and triumphs look down upon us this day, a diversified, but yet a united Church.

With this great fact of our common brotherhood before us, our duty as a Church is clearly apparent. It is, to live and love and labor as brethren. If we cannot see eye to eye in everything let us walk by the same rule, so far as we are agreed. Palsied be the arm that would turn the tide of battle from the common foe against our brethren. At a time like this, when Socialism with its unclean spawn, and Rationalism with its icy touch, and Romanism with its corrupt faith and its relaxed morality, must not only be met and discomfited by the truth as it is in Jesus, but when the overshadowing power of material interest threatens to dry up the very heart of Christianity itself, and, in our land turn all into the idolatry of gold, divided interests and efforts can oppose no barrier to the overflowing surf. It is a struggle not only for the triumph but for the life of Christianity. It affects the whole brotherhood. It is a strife pro arts et focis, for our altars and firesides, and the weakest as well as the mightiest must stand by his arms in this coming struggle which shall shake not the earth only but also the heavens.

It is not too much to say, therefore, that our common duty in this crisis of our history is to seek the things that make for peace and things whereby we may edify one another. That partisans of different kinds will misconstrue this advice, we know beforehand; but what we have written is not ours, but the word of the Lord. Under circumstances very similar, the holy apostle “besought the brethren, by the Lord Jesus Christ, that they should all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among them, but that they should be perfectly joined together in the same judgment.” Christian brethren cannot hope to come to the unity of the faith until this law of charity is observed; for where divisions are there is contention and every evil work.

From “We Be Brethren” by William A. Passavant, in The Missionary (1856), quoted in The Life and Letters of W. A. Passavant, D.D. by George Henry Gerberding and William Alfred Passavant (Greenville, Pa.: The Young Lutheran Co., 1906).

Daily Reading for January 4 • Elizabeth Seton, Founder of the American Sisters of Charity, 1821

Elizabeth Seton did not live long ago and far away. She died a little over 150 years ago. New York, Baltimore, and the Maryland countryside were the setting for her work and growth in holiness. She was a wife and mother, a religious sister and educator, a woman who faced crises and setbacks which she surmounted by love, devotion, and openness to the grace of God. In proclaiming her a saint, the Church invites each of us to respond like her to the challenges in our own life.

She was an American religious and foundress of a religious community, and she remains a model for religious today. She was the “mother” of the Catholic school system in the United States, whose efforts underline the importance of the educational apostolate. She was a Roman Catholic whose spiritual life was nourished by long membership in the Episcopal Church. The coming-together in her of two great Christian traditions is an inspiration to contemporary work for Christian unity.

Archbishop Joseph Bernardin, quoted in The Soul of Elizabeth Seton by Joseph I. Dirvin, C.M. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1990).

Daily Reading for January 5

In the Celtic tradition, this daily celebration of the coming of the light of each day then became a daily reminder of heaven, of the future light of eternity:

“O God, who broughtest me from the rest of last night
Unto the joyous light of this day,
Be Thou bringing me from the new light of this day
Unto the guiding light of eternity.
Oh! From the new light of this day
Unto the guiding light of eternity.”

Then there is a prayer in the evening, as the light fades at dusk, at the time of “the change-over routine,” as naturalists in Africa call that moment when evening falls and the wild creatures welcome the coming of the darkness.

“I am in hope, in its proper time,
That the great and gracious God
Will not put out from me the light of grace
Even as thou dost leave me this night.”

This is a reminder of something that is only too easy to forget in a culture of urban values: both the light and the dark have a role to play. John Davies, a bishop who has known both Africa and England, and who now lives on the borders in North Wales, reminds us: “There is a place within the providence of God for the darkness, the night, the shadow. Our individual formation is in the dark, between conception and birth. The mysterious workings of our bodies are in the dark. The seed grows secretly in the dark. . . . We need to recognize and work with this darkness, even when we feel that it is opposing the light which is the primary gift of God.”

From To Pause at the Threshold: Reflections on Living on the Border by Esther de Waal. Copyright © 2001. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for January 6 • The Epiphany of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Grant us your light, O Lord,
that the darkness in our hearts
being wholly passed away,
we may come at last to the light
which is Christ.
For Christ is the morning star,
who when the night of this world has passed,
brings to us
the promised light of life,
and opens to them eternal day. Amen.

A prayer of the Venerable Bede, quoted in To Pause at the Threshold: Reflections on Living on the Border by Esther de Waal. Copyright © 2001. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for January 7

Again the darkness is past; again Light is made. . . . Old things are passed away, behold all things are become new. The letter gives way, the Spirit comes to the front. The shadows flee away, the Truth comes in upon them. . . . For God was manifested to man by birth. On the one hand Being, and eternally Being, of the Eternal Being, above cause and word, for there was no word before The Word; and on the other hand for our sakes also Becoming, that He Who gives us our being might also give us our Well-being, or rather might restore us by His Incarnation, when we had by wickedness fallen from well-being. The name Theophany is given to it in reference to the Manifestation, and that of Birthday in respect of His Birth.

This is our present Festival; it is this which we are celebrating to-day, the Coming of God to Man, that we might go forth, or rather (for this is the more proper expression) that we might go back to God—that putting off the old man, we might put on the New; and that as we died in Adam, so we might live in Christ, being born with Christ and crucified with Him and buried with Him and rising with Him. For I must undergo the beautiful conversion, and as the painful succeeded the more blissful, so must the more blissful come out of the painful. For where sin abounded Grace did much more abound; and if a taste condemned us, how much more doth the Passion of Christ justify us? Therefore let us keep the Feast, not after the manner of a heathen festival, but after a godly sort; not after the way of the world, but in a fashion above the world; not as our own but as belonging to Him Who is ours, or rather as our Master’s; not as of weakness, but as of healing; not as of creation, but of re-creation.

From Oration 38 of Gregory of Nazianzen, “On the Theophany, or Birthday of Christ,” translated by Charles Browne and J. Swallow; found at http://www.elpenor.org/gregory-nazianzen/birthday-christ.asp

Daily Reading for January 8 • Harriet Bedell, Deaconess and Missionary, 1969

God always was, and always is, and always will be. Or rather, God always Is. For Was and Will be are fragments of our time, and of changeable nature, but He is Eternal Being. And this is the Name that He gives to Himself when giving the Oracle to Moses in the Mount. For in Himself He sums up and contains all Being, having neither beginning in the past nor end in the future; like some great Sea of Being, limitless and unbounded, transcending all conception of time and nature, only adumbrated by the mind, and that very dimly and scantily . . . . The Divine Nature then is boundless and hard to understand; and all that we can comprehend of Him is His boundlessness. . . .

Mind, then, and sense, thus distinguished from each other, had remained within their own boundaries, and bore in themselves the magnificence of the Creator-Word, silent praisers and thrilling heralds of His mighty work. Not yet was there any mingling of both, nor any mixtures of these opposites, tokens of a greater Wisdom and Generosity in the creation of natures; nor as yet were the whole riches of Goodness made known. Now the Creator-Word, determining to exhibit this, and to produce a single living being out of both—the visible and the invisible creations, I mean—fashions Man; and taking a body from already existing matter, and placing in it a Breath taken from Himself which the Word knew to be an intelligent soul and the Image of God, as a sort of second world. He placed him, great in littleness on the earth; a new Angel, a mingled worshipper, fully initiated into the visible creation, but only partially into the intellectual; King of all upon earth, but subject to the King above; earthly and heavenly; temporal and yet immortal; visible and yet intellectual; half-way between greatness and lowliness; in one person combining spirit and flesh; spirit, because of the favour bestowed on him; flesh, because of the height to which he had been raised; the one that he might continue to live and praise his Benefactor, the other that he might suffer, and by suffering be put in remembrance, and corrected if he became proud of his greatness. A living creature trained here, and then moved elsewhere; and, to complete the mystery, deified by its inclination to God. For to this, I think, tends that Light of Truth which we here possess but in measure, that we should both see and experience the Splendour of God, which is worthy of Him Who made us, and will remake us again after a loftier fashion.

From Oration 38 of Gregory of Nazianzen, “On the Theophany, or Birthday of Christ,” translated by Charles Browne and J. Swallow; found at http://www.elpenor.org/gregory-nazianzen/birthday-christ.asp

Daily Reading for January 9 • The Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord

Once I lay in darkness and in the depths of night and was tossed to and fro in the waves of the turbulent world, uncertain of the correct way to go, ignorant of my true life and a stranger to the light of truth. At that time and on account of the life I then led, it seemed difficult to believe what divine mercy promised for my salvation, namely, that someone could be born again and to a new life by being immersed in the healing water of baptism. It was difficult to believe that though I would remain the same man in bodily form, my heart and mind would be transformed.

How was it possible, I thought, that a change could be great enough to strip away in a single moment the innate hardness of our nature? How could the habits acquired over the course of many years disappear, since these are so deeply rooted within us? If someone is used to dressing conspicuously in gold and purple, how can they cast them aside for ordinary simple clothes? Someone who loves the trappings of public office cannot become an anonymous private person. Anyone who is attended by great crowds of supporters and is honored by a dense entourage of obsequious attendants would consider solitude a punishment. While temptation still holds us fast, we are seduced by wine, inflated with pride, inflamed by anger, troubled by greed, goaded by cruelty, enticed by ambition and cast headlong by lust.

These were my frequent thoughts. For I was held fast by the many sins of my life from which it seemed impossible for me to extricate myself. Thus I yielded to my sins which clung fast to me. Since I despaired of improvement I took an indulgent view of my faults and regarded them as if they were slaves born in my house.

But after the life-giving water of baptism came to my rescue and took away the stain of my former years and poured into my cleansed and purified heart the light which comes from above, and after I had drunk in the Heavenly Spirit and was made a new man by a second birth, then amazingly what I had previously doubted became clear to me. What had been hidden was revealed. What had been dark became light. What previously had seemed impossible now seemed possible. What was in me of the guilty flesh now confessed it was earthly. What was made alive in me by the Holy Spirit was now quickened by God.

From To Donatus by Cyprian of Carthage, quoted in Born to New Life: Cyprian of Carthage, edited and translated by Oliver Davies (New York: New City Press, 1992).

Daily Reading for January 10 • William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1645

Good People,

You’l pardon my old Memory, and upon so sad occasions as I am come to this place, to make use of my Papers, I dare not trust my self otherwise. This is a very uncomfortable place to Preach in, and yet I shall begin with a Text of Scripture, in the twelfth of the Hebrews, Let us run with patience that race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him, endured the Crosse, despising the shame, and is set downe at the right hand of the Throne of God.

I have been long in my race, and how I have looked unto Jesus the Author and finisher of my Faith, is best known to him: I am now come to the end of my race, and here I finde the Crosse, a death of shame, but the shame must be despised, or there is no coming to the right hand of God; Jesus despis’d the shame for me, and God forbid but I should despise the shame for him. . . .

I shall obey, and labour to digest the sowre Herbs, as well as the Lamb, and I shall remember that it is the Lords Passeover; I shall not think of the Herbs, nor be angry with the hands which gathered them, but look up only to him who instituted the one, and governeth the other: For men can have no more power over me, then that which is given them from above; I am not in love with this passage through the red Sea, for I have the weaknesse and infirmity of flesh and blood in me, and I have prayed as my Saviour taught me, and exampled me, . . . that this Cup of red Wine might passe away from me, but since it is not that my will may, his will be done; and I shall most willingly drink of this Cup as deep as he pleases, and enter into this Sea, ay and passe through it, in the way that he shall be pleased to leade me.

From the sermon preached by William Laud from the scaffold on Tower Hill before he was beheaded on January 10, 1645; quoted in A History of Preaching by O. C. Edwards, Jr. (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2004).

Daily Reading for January 11

O Morning Star! how fair and bright,
thou beamest forth in truth and light!
O Sovereign meek and lowly!
Sweet Root of Jesse, David’s Son
my King and Bridegroom, thou hast won
my heart to love thee solely!
Lovely art thou, fair and glorious,
all victorious,
rich in blessing,
rule and might o’er all possessing.

O King high-born, Pearl hardly won,
true Son of God and Mary’s Son,
crown of exceeding glory!
My heart calls thee a Lily, Lord,
pure milk and honey is thy Word,
thy sweetest Gospel-story.
Rose of Sharon, hail! Hosanna!
Heavenly Manna,
feed us ever.
Lord, I can forget thee never!

Clear Jasper, Ruby fervent red,
deep, deep within my heart now shed,
the glow of love’s pure fire.
Fill me with joy, grant me to be
thy member closely joined to thee,
whom all my thoughts desire;
toward thee longing doth possess me,
turn and bless me,
for thy gladness,
eye and heart here pine in sadness.

But if thou look on me in love,
there straightway falls from God above,
a ray of purest pleasure;
thy Word and Spirit, flesh and blood,
refresh my soul with heavenly food,
thou art my hidden treasure.
Let thy grace, Lord, warm and cheer me,
O draw near me;
thou has taught us
thee to seek, since thou hast sought us.

Lord God, my Father, mighty shield,
thou in thy Son art all revealed,
as thou hast loved and known me;
thy Son hath me with him betrothed,
in his own whitest raiment clothed,
he for his bride will own me.
Hallelujah! Life in heaven
hath he given,
with him dwelling,
still shall I his praise be telling.

Then touch the chords of harp and lute,
let no sweet music now be mute,
but joyously resounding.
Tell of the marriage-feast, the Bride
the heavenly Bridegroom by her side,
’mid love and joy abounding;
shout for triumph, loudly sing ye,
praises bring ye,
fall before him,
King of kings, let all adore him.

Here my heart rests, and holds it fast,
the Lord I love is First and Last,
the End as the Beginning!
Here I can die, for I shall rise
through him to his own Paradise,
above all tears and sinning:
Amen! Amen! Come, Lord Jesus,
soon release us,
with deep yearning,
Lord, we look for thy returning!

An Epiphany hymn by Philipp Nicholai, in Freudenspiegel des ewigen Lebens (Mirror of the Joys of Eternal Life) (Frankfurt, 1599), translated by Catherine Winkworth, Christian Singers of Germany (London: Macmillan and Company, 1869).

Daily Reading for January 12 • Aelred, Abbot of Rievaulx, 1167

Human beings long for happiness, and human existence has happiness as its natural end—so Aelred of Rievaulx believes. To put this another way, the happiness for which humans long is the fulfillment of their nature as human beings. For Aelred, human beings are rational creatures created to participate in the happiness, the beatitude, of their loving Creator. Thus, says Aelred, “we were created with the highest dignity. . . .” This dignity derives from the Creator in whose image humans are made—made in the creative act that is only the first of his many gifts to humankind. Throughout their lives, humans continue to be “surrounded on all sides by his [God’s] innumerable favors.” Aelred likens the image and likeness conferred by God on humans to the tribute coin of Matthew 22:12-20: “God has stamped his image on the very nature of the rational soul. . . .” It is because of human participation in the nature of God, of a loving God, that human nature is good and capable of the happiness for which God created it. To be sure, humans share with all other creatures the derivative and dependent nature of their existence. As rational beings, however, humans are given a greater share in God’s being.

All of this may sound rather abstract and remote. But the message assumes immediacy and existential relevance for Aelred when he considers the meaning of human nature, dignity, and dependence for his central concern, human happiness: “For, in the creation of all things, he [God] gave humans not only being and not only some good or beautiful or well-ordered being—as he gave to other creatures—but, beyond these, he granted humans happiness in being.”

From Aelred of Rievaulx: Pursuing Perfect Happiness by John R. Sommerfeldt (Mahwah, N.J.: The Newman Press, 2005).

Daily Reading for January 13 • Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers, 367

O Wondrous giver of the light!
By whose eternal ray serene,
After the lingering hours of night,
The glory of the morn is seen, —

Bringer of light indeed art thou;
Not like the common sun of day
That o’er the world is rising now
And shining with a narrow ray;

Nay, brighter than the solar beam,
Thyself the sun and perfect light,
And in the breast thy tender gleam
Illumes with glory pure and bright.

Creator of the world, be near,
Thou radiance of the Father’s face!
Oh, shield us from all shapes of fear
And guide us by thy saving grace.

Inspire us with thy living breath,
Dwell in our hearts both night and day,
Lest by the tempter lured to death,
Our erring souls be made his prey.

Be all our actions free from stain,
Let purity our souls refine,
That shunning evil thoughts and vain,
We live within thy laws divine.

Let not our minds be overcome
By false desire or deed of shame,
And be our hearts a shrine and home
Wherein shall burn thy holy flame.

Our hope, O Saviour, is in thee,
In thee we trust, we seek thy light;
Lord, let thy love a beacon be
To guide us through the gloom of night.

“Saint Hilary’s Morning Hymn,” Lucis Largitor Splendide, in Early Christian Hymns: Translations of the Verses of the Most Notable Latin Writers of the Early and Middle Ages by Daniel Joseph Donahoe (New York: The Grafton Press, 1908).

Daily Reading for January 14 • Richard Meux Benson, Religious, 1915, and Charles Gore, Bishop of Worcester, of Birmingham, and of Oxford, 1932 (transferred)

The more we pray for others, the more we shall pray for ourselves. Praying for others, instead of hindering us in prayer for ourselves, will lead us to pray the more for ourselves. We may perhaps learn, by praying for others, what is meant by prayer, and what its value is, and how to practice it; and if we have learned the meaning, the value, and the work of prayer, we shall try and put it in force for ourselves. Many often dream over their own religious condition, and fancy they are praying. It is when we pray for ourselves with the same definiteness as we should pray for an object external to ourselves that we are really praying. Intercessions for others will teach us to pray for ourselves. . . .

It is one thing to feel annoyance at the faults of others and to criticize them in conversation. It is quite another thing to fall secretly before God and ask his forgiveness for the sins we know, and his grace that those we know may be brought to serve him more truly. We shall leave off being censorious in conversation if we are earnest in intercession. Here is a very evident blessing which comes immediately to ourselves from the practice of prayer for the unconverted. What sin is so common as the sin of finding fault with others? When you are tempted to find fault and complain of them, be silent and pray for them. . . . When we kneel, as it were, alongside of our brother in the light of God’s presence, we shall see our own faults at least as clearly as his. If we pray really for him, we shall desire that he may attain the Divine standard of holiness—not the puny standard of our own imagination.

From The Manual of Intercessory Prayer arranged by the Rev. R. M. Benson, M.A. (London: J. T. Hayes, 1889).

Daily Reading for January 15 • Martin Luther King, Jr., Civil Rights Leader and Martyr, 1968

Jesus frequently illustrated the characteristics of the hardhearted. The rich fool was condemned, not because he was toughminded, but rather because he was not tenderhearted. Life for him was a mirror in which he saw only himself, and not a window through which he saw other selves. Dives went to hell, not because he was wealthy, but because he was not tenderhearted enough to see Lazarus and because he made no attempt to bridge the gulf between himself and his brother.

Jesus reminds us that the good life combines the toughness of the serpent and the tenderness of the dove. To have serpentlike qualities devoid of dovelike qualities is to be passionless, mean, and selfish. To have dovelike without serpentlike qualities is to be sentimental, anemic, and aimless. We must combine strongly marked antitheses.

From “The Strength to Love” in A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James M. Washington (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1986), 495.

Daily Reading for January 16 • The Second Sunday after the Epiphany

The first disciples of our Lord had, some of them, been disciples of John the Baptist, and the function of that wonderful prophet was to proclaim that now the time was come, and God's purpose was about to be consummated—the kingdom was at hand, and he was the forerunner of that kingdom. And he had pointed them to the yet unknown figure of Jesus of Nazareth as the Greater One, the One who was to come, the latchet of whose shoes he was not worthy to unloose. And they had joined the company of Jesus, after they had accepted His call.

Last Sunday we sought to estimate the impression which in the years of His public ministry Jesus made upon these first disciples. It was an impression of unbounded authority; a wonderful authority of love and power which absorbed their very souls, and which they could not resist. They saw His wonderful works, they heard His wonderful words; they had at first no theory about His person, only they felt that there could be none greater than He. He came, as I said, to occupy the place of God in their mind and thought and heart. At last, at a critical moment, Jesus tested them with a great question. He had asked them first, “Whom do men say that I am?” and it was easy to answer that He was regarded as some wonderful prophet, about whom some supernatural account must be given; and many and various were the accounts given. But they had been closer to Him, longer with Him, and no such vague description was enough for them. Thus again He asked them, “Whom say ye that I am?” And then Peter uttered the great confession, “Thou art the Christ,” and Jesus accepted it with His solemn benediction, “Blessed art thou, Simon Bar-jona.”. . .

I have said nothing about S. John’s witness, because the learned world has in great part satisfied itself that S. John’s Gospel was not written by John the apostle but was the work of some later disciple; not a history but an allegory, representing not the experience of the apostle but the later mind of the church. A great part of the learned world has made up its mind to that effect; so it is better to begin with the other Gospels and the Acts and S. Paul’s Epistles. Nevertheless I do myself firmly, and after all examination, believe that it is only at the bottom the refusal of the supernatural which leads to that rejection of S. John’s authorship. I think the evidence is fairly overwhelming that the Fourth Gospel was really written by John the apostle and that you must accept its testimony as John’s.

The doctrine of John, then, about Christ’s person, which he sums up in the prologue of his Gospel, is in effect the same as S. Paul’s—that the Word or self-expression of the Father, who is also His only-begotten Son, was eternally with the Father, and was God, and from the beginning of time was the instrument of all creation, and the light lightening every man in reason and conscience: that the darkness of sin never overwhelmed the light: that all along He was coming into the world: and at last He came. And he gives expression to that coming in the words, “the Word was made flesh” (the highest took the lowest) “and tabernacled among us (and we beheld his glory, glory as of the only-begotten from the Father), full of grace and truth.” And then he tells a story of the incarnate life which seems to me necessary at many points to make up a coherent picture, supplementing the other Gospels. And he lets us understand that Jesus did from time to time during His ministry bear solemn witness to His Sonship in a sense which left no doubt about His pre-existence, though it made no impression apparently on the disciples’ minds at the time. . . .

Well, is this the truth—that Jesus is the eternal Son of God incarnate? Or was it an imaginative invention of S. Paul’s mind, adopted by the other leaders of the church? I cannot think so. I see in the records a wonderful growth in the faith of the disciples till it reaches the supreme point, and the facts by which it grew justify the resultant belief. No other belief really could account for them.

From “The Faith of the First Disciples,” Sermon II in The Deity of Christ: Four Sermons preached during Advent, 1921, in Grosvenor Chapel by Charles Gore (Milwaukee: Morehouse, 1922).

Daily Reading for January 17 • Antony, Abbot in Egypt, 356

Antony was confused as he meditated upon the depths of God’s judgements, and he asked God, “Lord, how is it that some die young and others grow old and sick? Why are there some poor and some rich? Why are there those who are bad and rich and oppress the good poor?” He heard a voice saying to him, “Antony, worry about yourself; these other matters are up to God, and it will not do you any good to know them.”

. . . . . . . . . .

Once a brother in the community of Elias fell when he was tempted. He was expelled from the community, and went to the mountain to Antony. When he had been with him for some time, Antony sent him back to his community, but when they saw him, they sent him away again. So he went back to Antony and said, “They won’t have me, abba.” So Antony sent a message to them saying, “A ship was wrecked in the ocean and lost its cargo, and with great difficulty the empty ship was brought to land. Do you want to run the ship that has been rescued onto the rocks and sink it?” They realized that Antony had sent him back, and at once accepted him.

From The Desert Fathers: Sayings of the Early Christian Monks, translated with an introduction by Benedicta Ward (New York: Penguin, 2003).

Daily Reading for January 18 • The Confession of St. Peter the Apostle

The first and fundamental creed, which must ever constitute the beating heart of every other, is Peter’s answer to his Master’s question, “Who say ye that I am?” It is the confession of his personal faith that the man Jesus of Nazareth is “the Christ, the Son of the living God.” He saw in Him the promised Messiah, the Saviour from sin, and the highest revelation of the infinite Jehovah.

This confession came not from flesh and blood, but was revealed to the mind and heart of Peter by our heavenly Father, through the Holy Spirit. This confession, as proclaimed by Peter, is the immovable rock on which Christ, the divine architect, built his Church on the day of Pentecost when Peter fulfilled the prophecy of his new name and converted three thousand souls to his Lord. This confession is the standard and rule of every creed, which is true or false in proportion as it agrees with or departs from its spirit. Christ, the God-Man, the Lord and Saviour, is the beginning, the middle, and the end of our Christian faith and spiritual life. Every other article must cluster around this Christological centre. The creed of the reunited Church of the future will be but an expansion of the confession with which it started. Gold and silver, and many precious stones of divine truth, have been built upon this foundation, and they will remain.

From Christ and Christianity: Studies on Christology, Creeds and Confessions by Philip Schaff (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1885).

Daily Reading for January 19 • Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester, 1095

It was a rule with Wulfstan to do with his might what his hands found to do, and he discharged with honor to the monastery the duties which now devolved upon him. The first office which he filled was that of scholasticus, or keeper of the schools.

Unless Wulfstan had made himself a scholar at Peterborough, he would not have received this appointment. That he was qualified for it is asserted by Malmesbury, who states that he read deeply, and was thoroughly acquainted with Holy Scripture. Florence of Worcester remarks that he now devoted himself to a contemplative life, passing nights as well as days in the prayerful study of the Bible. He states a fact which he says that he should hardly have believed, if he had it not from high authority, that Wulfstan would sometimes pass four days and four nights without sleep. A story like this has been told of one of the most eminent men of our own day, Lord Brougham. In either case, the truth probably is, that something like this occurred once in the life of each, under an unusual pressure of business, and consequently under circumstances of intense excitement. We may add here, that the greatest friend of Wulfstan, at a later period, was Robert, Bishop of Hereford, a man of universal information, a divine, a lawyer, a mathematician, a man of science. He would pass days in the society of Wulfstan; and he was not likely to choose for his friend and companion a man devoid of literature. I mention these circumstances because, in modern story, Wulfstan is spoken of as a well-meaning, well-conducted ignoramus, and Malmesbury tells us, in his treatise De Gestis Pontificum, that Lanfranc had spoken of him as an unlettered man. This was probably said before Lanfranc had become well acquainted with him, and because Wulfstan contemned the kind of knowledge in which Lanfranc excelled. He despised the learning, says Malmesbury, which consisted in the study of poetic fables and the crooked syllogisms of the Dialecticians (the new scholastic system lately introduced on the Continent); and he spoke Norman-French imperfectly. But Malmesbury truly observed that no man could have preached with such power, elegance, eloquence, and effect as Wulfstan did, and that too very frequently without premeditation, and not be a man of cultivated intellect.

Of Wulfstan’s mode of teaching I have nothing to report. Of his discipline we have the following instance. He was not only liberal in his alms-deeds, but very considerate in his mode of administering to the wants of others. This was one secret of his popularity. Wulfstan would arrange his poor on seats, and employ the young men of his school to carry their repast. They were made to place the food with bended knee, as was the custom then with servants, upon the table, and to pour water upon the hands of his pauper guests. If any one, conscious of his high birth, evinced an unwillingness to obey, Wulfstan would chide him as contumacious. He would abase the proud and exalt the lowly.

Wulfstan, after a time, accepted the office of precentor. He was a good musician, and the Anglo-Saxons were fond of music. Nevertheless, I greatly fear that the manner in which Wulfstan performed this part of his duty must have been peculiarly annoying to the choir. Of his mode of proceeding we happen to have an instance. When the Bishop of Worcester made his visitations, himself on horseback, he was attended, as he travelled through a thinly populated and only half-cultivated country, by a large cavalcade. To make the time pass pleasantly, as the cavalcade wound its way through the straggling village or the streets of a town, along the banks of the Severn or skirting the heights of Malvern, the bishop would call upon the precentor to intone a psalm, and all the company would join in a mighty chorus. This suggests pleasant ideas. But Wulfstan was a very absent man; and one habit of his must have tried the patience and temper of his choir. When some verse occurred which spoke to his heart or caused a special excitement to his devotional feelings, that verse, instead of proceeding to the next, he would repeat over and over again, with eyes uplifted and extended hands. This he would frequently do whenever the prayer-verses recurred; as Malmesbury says, “usque ad fastidium concantantis.” But if Wulfstan was a bad precentor he became an admirable prior.

From “The Life and Times of Wulfstan, Bishop of Worcester” by Walter Farquhar Hook, in The Archaeological Journal 20 (March 1863).

Daily Reading for January 20 • Fabian, Bishop and Martyr of Rome, 250

On the death of Anterus, Bishop of Rome, A.D. 236, the brethren assembled in the church to choose a successor; but while they were debating who was the fittest person to fill the See, a dove suddenly alighted on the head of a stranger there present, and he was unanimously elected Bishop. This stranger was S. Fabian. Little is known of his life; but he suffered martyrdom in the persecution that raged under Decius.

They gathered in the minster’s gloom
With sorrowing spirits all,
For sadly stood their Bishop’s tomb
Beside that ancient wall,
And void, alas, his ancient throne,
For good Saint Anterus was gone.

When lo! a Dove, all silvery white
As blossom on the bough,
Came quivering in the vaulted height,
And touched Saint Fabian’s brow!
“A messenger from Heaven,” they cried;
“Our God hath shown His children’s guide.”

Whence came that holy bird? and where
Her tarriance and her bowers?
Do Winter’s footsteps wander there
To dream of Summer flowers?
Or is there not beneath her wing
The glory of eternal Spring?

Was it the Patriarch’s Dove, which flew,
(So bygone legends tell,)
To Eden’s groves of radiant hue,
Where Angel-warders dwell,
And shared with them that hidden shore,
A deathless bird for evermore?

Or was it thou, with mystic flight,
Bethabara’s bird divine,
Filled yet again with God’s Own light,
The Spirit’s breathing sign?
Thy silver wings of heavenly mould!
Thy feathers swift of living gold!

We know not;—but whene’er I greet
A lone swift-darting Dove,
Saint Fabian’s vision me will meet,
And Eden’s bowery grove;
And I shall dream, with ready will,
The Bird of Heaven is with us still.

Poem in honor of S. Fabian, Bishop and Martyr, by J. Adams, in Lyra Sanctorum by William John Deane (London: Joseph Masters, 1850).

Daily Reading for January 21 • Agnes, Martyr at Rome, 304

S. Agnes, when about thirteen years of age, was demanded in marriage by the son of Symphronius, the Prefect of Rome. But she was a Christian and vowed to celibacy, and therefore refused his offers. She was seized and commanded to burn incense to the gods, but resisted with holy firmness. Exposed to public infamy, she was preserved from pollution. At length the axe of the executioner put an end to her suffering. Her parents buried her body near the Via Nomentana, and visited her tomb in secret. One night they saw her in a dream appearing to them in glory with a spotless lamb by her side. It is thus she is always represented.

It is a winter’s day in Rome,—the sky is blue and bright,
And palaces and temples glow in that serener light;
Apollo of the Palatine from his lordly hill looks down,
And Jove that guards the Capitol,—the Eternal City’s crown;
And Syrian gold and Indian pearls attend on Roman pride,
And Ostia’s barks bring boundless wealth at each returning tide.

But there is concourse in the street, and rush toward the dome,
Where the great Prefect sits to wield the bloody sword of Rome;
And there amid the victors, and the faces, and the swords,
One Christian Virgin dareth still to own herself her Lord’s.
The Prefect’s son had loved her; but she would not be his bride,
For all her hope and all her heart was on the Crucified.

Now, Christian maidens, close your ears;—for compassed by her foes
Into the place of scorn and shame the blessed Agnes goes.
Shame on the recreant faith that deems Omnipotence so weak,
Shame on the tongue that dares unchecked such coward words to speak!
Nay, listen, Christian maidens, still!—By tyrant foes arraigned,
Christ’s Martyr may be tempted sore, but never can be stained.

The bloody axe has sent her home to sojourn with the blest,
And lovely Nomentana was the region of her rest;
And far and nigh they came to watch, and far and nigh to pray,
For precious in God’s sight they knew that tenement of clay.
A heathen band pursued them there;—and in the hallowed place,
A Catechumen only dared that heathen band to face.

The same rough path Saint Agnes’ feet so bravely learnt to tread
The ashes of Saint Agnes might pass with little dread.
Nor fear because the holy wave have never tinged thy brow:
He Who hath called, baptizes thee in holier manner now!
He to His land of rest and light shall bear thee hence away,
And give thee place with them that bore the burden of the day.

Once more, before her parents’ eyes, beside her tomb upcast,
Amid the Virgins’ lovely choir, the Virgin Martyr passed,
Transfigured and beatified in that celestial glow,
And at her right hand stood a lamb more white than whitest snow.
And, “Weep not for me,” said the form—“who evermore above
Dwell in their bright companionship whom here I learnt to love.”

O who could weep, bright Saint, for thee? Who would not rather pray,
That thy communion may be his in life and death alway,
That thou and all thy blessed peers, enthroned in heaven and light,
Would think on us who yet endure the labour and the fight?
So shall we find, whatever change God’s will shall bring to pass,
That a Martyr’s intercession is a triple wall of brass.

Poem in honor of S. Agnes, Virgin and Martyr, in Lyra Sanctorum by William John Deane (London: Joseph Masters, 1850).

Daily Reading for January 22 • Vincent, Deacon of Saragossa, and Martyr, 304

S. Vincent, the most illustrious martyr of the Spanish Church, was born at Saragossa, and suffered in the persecution under Diocletian and Maximinian, A.D. 304. The Governor Datian, after trying persuasion in vain, had recourse to the most horrible torments to subdue S. Vincent’s Faith; but all to no purpose: his pain was turned into joy, and he heard angelic songs in the midst of his torture. When it was over, the Christians laid him in a soft bed; but as soon as he was placed thereon, he yielded up his soul.

Ye blessed Saints of high renown,
Who now ’mid heavenly treasures stored,
Bright jewels of our Father’s crown,
Await the coming of the Lord,
Meek sufferers while ye walked below,
In varied forms of pain and woe,
Content for Jesus’ blessed Name
To suffer loss, and grief, and shame,—

Whom, still a pilgrim here on earth,
The Church esteems of priceless worth,
Her children once in faith and love,
Martyrs in glory now above,—
Who but with awful joy can dwell
On the bright course ’twas yours to run,
And all the fruits of love which tell
Of victory by long suffering won?

We joy in that triumphant train;
But awe with joy is mingled still;
For we, who feebly shrink from pain,
Whose hearts with earthly pleasures thrill,
Scarce dare in trembling hope to gaze
Upon the Cross’s burning rays,—
Too bright, alas! for earth-dimmed sight,
Which shudders at its awful light.

And meet it is in humble shame
Our own repentant life to frame,
And pray that, if our lot it be
To suffer earthly agony,
Our feeble hearts may wax more bold,
To bear with gladness pain and loss,
As they who fought the fight of old
Beneath the banner of the Cross.

Blest Saint! this day in thankful praise
Our love would humbly think of thee,
As thou to heaven thine eye dost raise
Amid the searching agony,
Thy Cross of torture and of woe,
Thy bed of flame, the racking glow
Of steel, prepared in grim array
To chafe a Martyr’s strength away.

But forms unseen are hovering near;
An Angel’s voice is in his ear;
And flowers, that never bloomed below,
Their heavenly odours round him throw.—
But when the foe could do no more
And sorrowing mourners thronged around,
Thou mightst not stay; the strife was o’er,
And thou a tearless home hadst found.

O for the strength of faith and love,
That droops not in the tempest drear,
That, all intent on joys above,
Thirsts with the Lamb to suffer here!
For they who now bear pain and loss
Shall conquer with the Saviour’s Cross:—
O blessed power to suffering given,
The Red Sea wave, the gate of Heaven!

Poem in honor of S. Vincent, Deacon and Martyr, in Lyra Sanctorum by William John Deane (London: Joseph Masters, 1850).

Daily Reading for January 23 • The Third Sunday after the Epiphany, and Phillips Brooks, Bishop of Massachusetts, 1893

What, then, is preaching, of which we are to speak? It is not hard to find a definition. Preaching is the communication of truth by man to men. It has in it two essential elements, truth and personality. Neither of those can it spare and still be preaching. The truest truth, the most authoritative statement of God’s will, communicated in any other way than through the personality of brother man to men is not preached truth. Suppose it written on the sky, suppose it embodied in a book which has been so long held in reverence as the direct utterance of God that the vivid personality of the men who wrote its pages has well-nigh faded out of it; in neither of these cases is there any preaching. And on the other hand, if men speak to other men that which they do not claim for truth, if they use their powers of persuasion or of entertainment to make other men listen to their speculations, or do their will, or applaud their cleverness, that is not preaching either. The first lacks personality. The second lacks truth. And preaching is the bringing of truth through personality. It must have both elements. It is in the different proportion in which the two are mingled that the difference between two great classes of sermons and preaching lies. It is in the defect of one or the other element that every sermon and preacher falls short of the perfect standard. It is in the absence of one or the other element that a discourse ceases to be a sermon, and a man ceases to be a preacher altogether.

If we go back to the beginning of the Christian ministry we can see how distinctly and deliberately Jesus chose this method of extending the knowledge of Himself throughout the world. Other methods no doubt were open to Him, but He deliberately selected this. He taught His truth to a few men and then He said, “Now go and tell that truth to other men.” Both elements were there, in John the Baptist who prepared the way for Him, in the seventy whom He sent out before His face, and in the little company who started from the chamber of the Pentecost to proclaim the new salvation to the world. If He gave them the power of working miracles, the miracles themselves were not the final purpose for which He gave it. The power of miracle was, as it were, a divine fire pervading the Apostle's being and opening his individuality on either side; making it more open God-wards by the sense of awful privilege, making it more open man-wards by the impressiveness and the helpfulness with which it was clothed. Everything that was peculiar in Christ’s treatment of those men was merely part of the process by which the Master prepared their personality to be a fit medium for the communication of His Word. When His treatment of them was complete, they stood fused like glass, and able to take God’s truth in perfectly on one side and send it out perfectly on the other side of their transparent natures.

This was the method by which Christ chose that His Gospel should be spread through the world. It was a method that might have been applied to the dissemination of any truth, but we can see why it was especially adapted to the truth of Christianity. For that truth is preeminently personal. However the Gospel may be capable of statement in dogmatic form, its truest statement we know is not in dogma but in personal life. Christianity is Christ; and we can easily understand how a truth which is of such peculiar character that a person can stand forth and say of it “I am the Truth,” must always be best conveyed through, must indeed be almost incapable of being perfectly conveyed except through personality. And so some form of preaching must be essential to the prevalence and spread of the knowledge of Christ among men. There seems to be some such meaning as this in the words of Jesus when He said to His disciples, “As my Father has sent me into the world even so have I sent you into the world.” It was the continuation, out to the minutest ramifications of the new system of influence, of that personal method which the Incarnation itself had involved.

From Lectures on Preaching Delivered Before the Divinity School of Yale College in January and February 1877 by Phillips Brooks (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1878).

Daily Reading for January 24 • The Ordination of Florence Li Tim-Oi, First Woman Priest in the Anglican Communion, 1944

No saint claims to be a saint, and neither did you—except in so far as we are all called to be saints. In 1987 when Bob Browne was making the film Return to Hepu, you said to him: “I am just an earthen vessel with God’s treasure inside me.” No saint would claim more than that for herself. Yet here we have an icon of you with a halo. Just as I was writing this letter to you, by the grace of God, an Orthodox priest was explaining on BBC radio his understanding of an icon. Every human being, he said, is made in the image of God. So when we look on an icon of a human being, we are to see, in it and through it, the image of God. So when we, and others after us, come and stand before this icon of you, we are to see the treasure of God in your earthen vessel. I hope you are happy with that.

Sixty years ago what did my father and you talk over before he made you a priest in the Church of God? . . . Did my father tell you that he was tempted to give you a new name—Cornelia? He recognised, even if you did not, that to ordain a woman was equivalent to Peter baptising the gentile Cornelius¬—quite contrary to the then understanding of God’s will. Peter had been shown that, contrary to Jewish belief, gentiles were not unclean¬—and neither are women. What mattered to my father, as mattered to Peter, was that God had already given to you the gift of priesthood, which for three years you had been licensed to exercise, and your ministry had been manifestly blessed. Who was he to deny what God had already done? . . .

In this eucharist we give God thanks for you and for all you mean to us. Words by Sydney Carter [from his song Present Tense] were adapted for my father’s epitaph. They are equally true of you: “She showed us how the Christ she talked about is living now.”

From “A ‘Letter to Florence’ on the Diamond Jubilee of her Priesting” by Christopher Hall; found at http://www.litim-oi.org/downloads/diamondjubilee%20Letter.pdf

Daily Reading for January 25 • The Conversion of St. Paul the Apostle

How could Paul both deny that he had received the gospel through human mediation and yet also affirm that his gospel was in accord with the tradition he received? Unless we are content to conclude that Paul was wholly unscrupulous in his shifts and manoeuvres (a judgment we should hesitate before passing on anyone), the answer has to be something along the following lines. What Paul received and preached, and echoed in his letters, was indeed the common Christian conviction that “Christ died (for us) and was raised (from the dead).” That remained the shared confession and bond which held together the first Christian churches, despite all their diversity, in one gospel. What Paul was convinced of on the Damascus road, however, was not simply this central confessional claim but also that this Jesus was now to be preached to the Gentiles. It is this latter point which Paul focuses on in his most explicit reference to his conversion: God revealed “his Son in me, in order that I might preach (euangelizomai) him among the Gentiles” (Gal. 1.15-16). . . .

It was this interpretation of the shared gospel which Paul saw as his primary responsibility to carry out and proclaim. The risen Christ had appointed him apostle (1 Cor. 9.1; 15.8). That is, not to some general apostleship, but specifically as “apostle to the Gentiles” (Rom. 11.13). It was evidently this understanding of the gospel to be preached by him as apostle which he attributed directly to God, through Jesus Christ (Gal. 1.1). . . .

Paul’s conversion was a conversion for Paul the theologian. Not a conversion from one religion to another. He remained a Jew and an Israelite, though we can speak of a conversion from one form (or sect) of the religion of his people (Pharisee) to another (Nazarene). But certainly Paul’s conversion must be seen as a fulcrum point or hinge on which his whole theology turned round. And certainly it was the encounter with the risen Christ (as he perceived it) which formed that fulcrum and hinge. It was no doubt the total reversal of some very basic theological axioms (about Israel’s status and the importance of preserving it) and previous conclusions (Jesus as a false claimant to messiahship rejected by God) which was at the heart of the theological reconstruction which must have followed. . . .

What should not be ignored is the evidence that Paul’s own experience played a vital role in the reconstruction of his theology as a Christian and apostle. The theology of Paul was neither born nor sustained by or as a purely cerebral exercise. It was his own experience of grace which lay at its heart.

From The Theology of Paul the Apostle by James D. G. Dunn (London: T&T Clark, 1998, 2005).

Daily Reading for January 26 • Timothy, Titus, and Silas, Companions of St. Paul

Three young companions of St. Paul are commemorated together on the day after the festival of Paul’s conversion. Thus the church is reminded that not age but love of Christ and faithful care of the church are the important qualities for Christian witness in the world. . . .

Timothy was apparently the bearer of Paul’s letter to Corinth. . . . While at Corinth, Timothy preached the same message as had Paul and Silas, but the problems of that church remained. Because his father was a Gentile, Timothy was sent to strengthen Gentile churches, for he seemed to have their confidence. Paul seems to have sent his young companion ahead to prepare for Paul’s visit to Macedonia and Achaia and later to Jerusalem. . . . John of Damascus says that Timothy, the first bishop of Ephesus, witnessed Mary’s assumption. According to tradition, Timothy was beaten and stoned to death in 97 CE under Nerva because he opposed heathen worship. . . .

Timothy had delivered First Corinthians. The bearer of Second Corinthians is Titus, who seems to be Paul’s new deputy. He plays an important role in the Corinthian correspondence from this point on. . . . He was born of Gentile parents and was perhaps a native of Antioch, since he was in the delegation from Antioch to Jerusalem, and he may have been converted by Paul. He and a companion were sent to Corinth after 1 Corinthians had been delivered there, because of reports Paul had received about that troublesome church. . . . The epistle to Titus gives the information that Titus had been left on Crete to oversee the organization of the churches there. Titus’s mission to Dalmatia is alluded to in 2 Timothy 4:10. Tradition says that Titus lived in Crete as the first bishop of Gortyna and died there at the age of 93. . . .

Silas was a leader in the church at Jerusalem (Acts 15:22) who was sent with Paul to tell the Christians of Antioch of the decision of the Jerusalem Council concerning Gentile Christians. Paul chose Silas to replace John Mark on the second missionary journey when Mark and Barnabas left, and so Silas was one of the first Christian missionaries on the continent of Europe. Paul and Silas were imprisoned together at Philippi, and Silas was with Paul during the riot at Thessalonica. . . . Silas-Silvanus was probably the Silvanus who delivered First Peter (5:12); some say he was the author of 1 Peter or at least the amanuensis. Legend says that he was bishop of Corinth and that he died in Macedonia.

From New Book of Festivals and Commemorations: A Proposed Calendar of Saints by Philip H. Pfatteicher (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2008).

Daily Reading for January 27 • Lydia, Dorcas, and Phoebe, Witnesses to the Faith

I want to hear the voices of women
Reverberate around the world
Not the cries of the mourner and the victim only
Those too, of course
But also the articulate agendas of women’s passions
For a well, whole and flourishing world.
I want to see women themselves choosing to lead
Churches, groups, villages, towns, governments
Shaping strategies coming from the bedrock of our faith
That construct the way forward as we solve the critical issues
Women care about: poverty, health, education, violence and peace.
I want us, women of the Episcopal Church
To join with women and men throughout our global family
Speak with our moral authority; call our family to this holy task
Then listen as we hear our sisters’ and brothers’ voices
Coming back to us as they complete the circle around the world—
Enriched by the dignity and imagination of others—
Returning to shower us with the love of God.

“I Want to Hear the Voices of Women” by Phoebe Griswold. Quoted in Lifting Women’s Voices: Prayers to Change the World edited by Margaret Rose, Jenny Te Paa, Jeanne Person, and Abagail Nelson. Copyright © 2009. Used by permission of Morehouse Publishing, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. www.morehousepublishing.com

Daily Reading for January 28 • Thomas Aquinas, Priest and Theologian, 1274

Godhead here in hiding Whom I do adore
Masked by these bare shadows, shape and nothing more,
See, Lord, at Thy service low lies here a heart
Lost, all lost in wonder at the God Thou art.

Seeing, touching, tasting are in Thee deceived;
How says trusty hearing? that shall be believed;
What God’s Son has told me, take for truth I do;
Truth Himself speaks truly or there’s nothing true.

On the cross Thy Godhead made no sign to men;
Here Thy very manhood steals from human ken:
Both are my confession, both are my belief,
And I pray the prayer of the dying thief.

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But I plainly call Thee Lord and God as he:
This faith each day deeper be my holding of,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

O Thou, our reminder of the Crucified,
Living Bread, the life of us for whom He died,
Lend this life to me, then; feed and feast my mind,
There be Thou the sweetness man was meant to find.

Like what tender tales tell of the Pelican,
Bathe me, Jesus Lord, in what Thy bosom ran
Blood that but one drop of has the pow’r to win
All the world forgiveness of its world of sin.

Jesus, Whom I look at shrouded here below,
I beseech Thee, send me what I thirst for so,
Some day to gaze on Thee face to face in light
And be blest forever with Thy glory’s sight.

Words to the eucharistic hymn Adoro te devote (Godhead here in hiding) by Thomas Aquinas, translated by Gerard Manley Hopkins S.J.

Daily Reading for January 29 • Andrei Rublev, Monk and Iconographer, 1430

Saint Andrei Rublev was born about 1360 and died in 1430. He was a monk throughout his adult life, first at the Holy Trinity Monastery and later at the Andronikov Monastery in Moscow, where he was buried. He is remembered as being shy and calm, devoted to divine services, meditation and icon painting. Yet artistically, he was also something of an innovator. In various ways, his icons departed from both Byzantine and Russian tradition up to that time. His were lighter, brighter, more transparent, simpler, radiating a climate of serenity, joy and confidence in God’s mercy. . . .

In the chronicles of the Holy Trinity Monastery it is recorded how on feast days, when Rublev and his assistant Daniel rested, they would “sit in front of the divine and venerable icons and look at them without distraction . . . They constantly elevated their thoughts to the immaterial and divine light.” . . .

The [Holy Trinity] icon as painted by Rublev seemed radiant, but its light slowly dimmed. As decades passed, the smoke produced by thousands of candles blackened the image. The kind of restoration we have today was then unknown. Twice the image was re-painted but each time in darker colors and with the addition of new details. Finally the whole icon except the faces and hands was covered by a golden oklad—an embossed metallic sheet. What had once been visible in translucent paint was now rendered in hard metallic relief.

It was only in 1904 that a restoration commission dared free the icon from its oklad and began the slow and painstaking removal of the overpainting that masked Rublev’s work. What their effort finally revealed has ever since amazed those who have been privileged to stand in front of the actual icon. The uncovering of the icon was a momentous event, doing much to inspire the return to classic iconography.

From Praying with Icons by Jim Forest (Maryknoll, N. Y.: Orbis Books, 1997, 2008).

Daily Reading for January 30 • The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany

I have heard of an experiment in meditation. For a certain number of days, some years ago, a group of people made a circle around the city of Washington and meditated continually. Gathered unknown to itself within this circle of loving kindness, Washington changed. The statistics for that period in the city showed a remarkable and unprecedented decrease in violence and crime. The power of intention to bless is not some utopian fantasy; it can be shown factually to effect concrete and transformative action.

We have no idea the effect we actually have on one another. This is where blessing can achieve so much. Blessing as powerful and positive intention can transform situations and people. The force of blessing must be even more powerful when we consider how the intention of blessing corresponds with the deepest desire of reality for creativity, healing, and wholesomeness. Blessing has pure agency because it animates on the deepest threshold between being and becoming; it mines the territories of memory to awaken and draw forth possibilities we cannot even begin to imagine!

From To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings by John O’Donohue (New York: Doubleday, 2008).

Daily Reading for January 31 • Juan Bosco (John Bosco), Priest, 1888, and Samuel Shoemaker, Priest and Evangelist, 1963

The teacher who is seen only in the classroom, and nowhere else, is a teacher and nothing more; but let him go with his boys to recreation and he becomes a brother. If one is seen only preaching from the pulpit, it can be said he is doing only what is his strict duty; but let him drop a good word in recreation, and that is the word of a loving heart. How many conversions were brought about by those few spontaneous words of yours whispered in a boy’s ear while he was engrossed in his games! If a boy knows he is loved, he will love in return. . . .

Jesus Christ did not crush the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. There is your model! And so nobody will be seen working for vainglory; nobody punishing merely to vindicate wounded self-love; nobody avoiding assisting the boys through a jealous fear of another’s popularity; nobody criticizing his confreres with a view to obtaining the boys’ love and esteem exclusively for himself—while gaining nothing in fact but the boys’ contempt and maybe a lying smile. . . .

If this love reigns, all will seek only the glory of God and the salvation of souls. It is when this love cools down that things begin to go wrong. Why do you want to replace charity with the rigidity of a few rules? Why is it that for the system of loving and preventive vigilance there is being substituted a system of framing rules—a system that is less burdensome and more convenient for the Superior? If the rules are enforced by punishment, they enkindle hatred and give rise to unpleasantness; whereas, if their observance is not enforced, they engender contempt for the Superiors and cause serious disorders. This is bound to happen where there is no family spirit.

So then, . . . let the Superior be all things to everyone, always ready to hear any complaint or doubts of the boys, using a paternal vigilance over their conduct; and let his heart be set on seeking the spiritual and temporal welfare of those whom Providence has confided to him.

From Forty Dreams of St. John Bosco: The Apostle of Youth, from the Biographical Memoirs of St. John Bosco, compiled and edited by Fr. J. Bacchiarello, S.D.B. (Rockford, Ill.: Tan Books and Publishers, 1969).