The Riverside Gathering Posts

They came to Bethsaida, and some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. [Mark 8:22]. They said his name was Jesus.I heard it first as rumor,then as hope in voices I had trustedall my life. My brother took my elbow—the familiar grip I'd known since childhood—and said, "We're taking you to him." I did not ask if he could heal.By then I'd learned which questionshurt more than the darkness. But when we reached the edge of sound and crowd,different hands found mine.Not my brother's.Gentle, yes, but strange. "Come," he said,and led me away from everything I knew—the voices fading,the village sounds growing distant. I had lived…

This Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord, and the Lectionary pairs the Gospel account of Jesus's baptism (Matthew 3:13-17) with Isaiah 42:1-9, one of the so-called Servant Songs. The pairing invites us to see Jesus in Isaiah’s servant, to see Jesus as God's chosen one, anointed with the Spirit, beloved and delighted in. The resonances are unmistakable, and for two millennia Christians have read these Isaiah passages as prophetic foreshadowing of Christ. In the original time frame of the text, however, the servant in Isaiah 42 almost certainly refers to Israel itself, not to some future messianic figure. Throughout Isaiah 40-55, “servant” is covenant language describing Israel’s unique…

A Meditation on Jeremiah 31:7–14 This Sunday’s First Reading comes from Jeremiah 31, part of what scholars call the “Book of Consolation.” After the destruction of Jerusalem and the exile to Babylon, the prophet speaks words of unexpected hope: YHWH will gather the scattered remnant and bring them home. Notice, however, who YHWH gathers. A Reckless Vision At first glance, Jeremiah’s vision feels reckless. YHWH calls a people home who have no business traveling at all: the blind and the lame, those weighed down by grief, those heavy with child, even those already in labor. These are not pilgrims prepared for a long journey. They are people who, by any…

Matthew 2:13-23 The dream came in the night,sharp and urgent as a blade:Rise. Take the child and his mother.Flee to Egypt. Now. I woke with my heart hammering,Mary breathing softly beside me,the baby asleep in his basket. Herod seeks the child’s life. Words that changed everything. We had visitors days before—strange men from the Eastwith expensive gifts and stranger questions.They knelt before my son—as if he were a king. I didn’t understand it then.I’m not sure I understand it now. But the dream made one thing clear:this child—my son, not my son—mattered enough to kill for. We left before dawn.I took what I could carry:a few tools, some bread, the…

Again the LORD spoke to Ahaz, saying, Ask a sign of the LORD your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven. But Ahaz said, I will not ask, and I will not put the LORD to the test. Then Isaiah said: “Hear then, O house of David! Is it not enough for you to weary mortals, that you weary my God also? Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel” (Isaiah 7:10–14). The above-noted passage is the Old Testament reading assigned for this Sunday, the Fourth Sunday of…

Beloved, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord [James 5:9–10]. The Gaudete Paradox This coming Sunday is the Third Sunday of Advent, Gaudete Sunday — from the Latin word for rejoice. In many churches, the Advent Wreath’s rose candle will be lit instead of another purple one, marking a shift in tone from somber waiting. Someone might choose a lighter hymn, maybe something in a major key. It’s supposed to feel different, brighter somehow, as Christmas draws…

“You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” [Matthew 3:7b]. Not exactly the warm-up act for Christmas we were hoping for. It’s the Second Sunday of Advent, the season when we're supposed to be lighting candles and singing carols, and the lectionary (RCL, Year A) gives us John the Baptist in full prophetic fury. He’s wearing camel hair held together with a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey, looking like Elijah come back from the grave. And he’s calling the religious leaders snakes. This is the voice crying in the wilderness, preparing the way of the Lord. This is how we get ready…

“But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father…. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour” [Matthew 24:36, 44]. The First Sunday of Advent always catches us off guard. Many of us expect Bethlehem, shepherds, angels announcing good news. Instead, the Lectionary (Year A) hands us Matthew 24:36-44—Jesus speaking not about his first coming but his second. No manger here, no gentle Mary cradling an infant. Just stark apocalyptic warning: the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour. Keep awake. Be ready. It’s jarring, especially when…

Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise” [Luke 23:42–43, a portion of the Gospel lesson appointed for this Sunday, The Reign of Christ, RCL, Year C]. I deserve this. Let’s be clear about that from the start. What I did—I did it— earned me these nails, this wood, this slow drowning in open air. There were four of us condemned. Me, him on my left, Barabbas, and the One between us now. But Barabbas walks free today. The crowd chose him over Jesus. Shouted his name until Pilate relented. I knew…

When some were speaking about the temple, how it was adorned with beautiful stones and gifts dedicated to God, He said, “As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Luke 21:5–6; Gospel reading Luke 21:5–19, RCL Year C) You stand there admiring me. Beautiful stone, you say. Gifts dedicated to God. Look at the craftsmanship. Look at the permanence. I’ve been here a long time. Long enough to know that permanence is what you call a thing until it falls. I was here when the widow came— remember her?— dropping two coins in…