You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We have been exploring an extraordinary story of transformation this week in the tale of Jesus’ encounter with a notorious sinner. Zacchaeus made his living off the misery of others. As the chief tax collector in a major town, he sat atop a pyramid of greed, extortion and violence. Yet Jesus offered him forgiveness, and Zacchaeus responded in astonishing ways.
He revealed a spiritual openness when he clambered up a tree to get a better view of Jesus. He wasn’t willing to come close, but he wanted to see. And Jesus met that opening with an invitation to fellowship, and an acceptance which prompted a further opening in Zacchaeus. He didn’t just repent by halves – he went the whole distance: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”’
Zacchaeus certainly was lost, spiritually speaking. He was tightly bound by his self-saving strategies, his allegiance to money and power. Yet he was not beyond the reach of God’s grace. As one thing loosened when he climbed that tree, more space was made, and that unlocked his repentance, which made more space for forgiveness. Soon the whole tightly bound system unraveled and even his change was loosed, as he offered half his wealth and more to transform the lives of the poor.
Jesus said to his followers, “Whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven.” As redeemed saints of God, we are in the business of loosening. We don’t always see transformation as radical as Zacchaeus’; repentance is usually incremental. Yet, just as when we work to undo a tight knot, each loosening helps to loosen another bond, until the knot falls away.
There is no work more holy than helping to bring about repentance and freedom in one another – which means we need also stay aware of our own stuff, our own sin. And as forgiveness flows to us, so does generosity. Put more succinctly, loose the chains and loose some change!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-30-25 - Opening Clams
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I know little about clams, but I’m told the only way to get them to open their shells – other than violently, with a knife – is to place them in warm water. After a while they’ll open of their own accord. That is a good way to describe how God loves us into opening our spirits, and how we can love really shut-down people into transformation. Just as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment, the hardest heart can be softened by acceptance and mercy.
That’s what Jesus did for Zacchaeus. His acceptance in coming to his house; his willingness to stand with him when no one else would, elicit not only repentance but an astonishing generosity: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”
It’s easy to say “I’m sorry.” It’s a lot harder to make amends, to go back to people you’ve hurt and offer them restitution for what you’ve taken from them. Restitution is the visible fruit of true repentance. In this, Zacchaeus is a champion.
Those who disapproved of Jesus going to Zacchaeus’ house may have said, “By going to a ‘sinner’s’ house, Jesus is dignifying all tax collectors. His presence gives approval to wickedness. Better to isolate sinners than to tolerate them.” But if we isolate those who are destructive, where is the hope for transformation?
I'm reminded of the heat Jodie Foster took for hiring Mel Gibson after the many revelations about his anti-Semitic remarks and actions. She did not condone his views, but made a choice to stand with a friend – and so helped foster (sorry…) the possibility of transformation in him. The hardest heart can be melted by acceptance and mercy, as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment.
Jesus went to Zacchaeus’ house, not knowing that he would repent, yet perhaps inferring some openness from his tree-climbing. And his risk was rewarded, his grace met with not only sorrow but amendment of life and reversal of justice. Where Zacchaeus’ had taken money from the poor to appease the Romans, he was now giving half his fortune to the poor. And if there was fraud, he offered to make a four-fold restitution. That is an “I’m sorry” with teeth.
Do you know anyone isolated because of their destructive words or actions? Without affirming the behavior, we can provide an environment where hearts can open, and see what happens. That's what people who work with gang members do. Is God is inviting you to give that gift to anyone? If you’ve ever been a clam shut tight and found yourself in a bath of warm, accepting love, you know what it means.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I know little about clams, but I’m told the only way to get them to open their shells – other than violently, with a knife – is to place them in warm water. After a while they’ll open of their own accord. That is a good way to describe how God loves us into opening our spirits, and how we can love really shut-down people into transformation. Just as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment, the hardest heart can be softened by acceptance and mercy.
That’s what Jesus did for Zacchaeus. His acceptance in coming to his house; his willingness to stand with him when no one else would, elicit not only repentance but an astonishing generosity: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”
It’s easy to say “I’m sorry.” It’s a lot harder to make amends, to go back to people you’ve hurt and offer them restitution for what you’ve taken from them. Restitution is the visible fruit of true repentance. In this, Zacchaeus is a champion.
Those who disapproved of Jesus going to Zacchaeus’ house may have said, “By going to a ‘sinner’s’ house, Jesus is dignifying all tax collectors. His presence gives approval to wickedness. Better to isolate sinners than to tolerate them.” But if we isolate those who are destructive, where is the hope for transformation?
I'm reminded of the heat Jodie Foster took for hiring Mel Gibson after the many revelations about his anti-Semitic remarks and actions. She did not condone his views, but made a choice to stand with a friend – and so helped foster (sorry…) the possibility of transformation in him. The hardest heart can be melted by acceptance and mercy, as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment.
Jesus went to Zacchaeus’ house, not knowing that he would repent, yet perhaps inferring some openness from his tree-climbing. And his risk was rewarded, his grace met with not only sorrow but amendment of life and reversal of justice. Where Zacchaeus’ had taken money from the poor to appease the Romans, he was now giving half his fortune to the poor. And if there was fraud, he offered to make a four-fold restitution. That is an “I’m sorry” with teeth.
Do you know anyone isolated because of their destructive words or actions? Without affirming the behavior, we can provide an environment where hearts can open, and see what happens. That's what people who work with gang members do. Is God is inviting you to give that gift to anyone? If you’ve ever been a clam shut tight and found yourself in a bath of warm, accepting love, you know what it means.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-29-25 - Bad Company
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Zacchaeus may have been happy to hear Jesus say he was coming to his house – but no one else thought it a good move. Luke tells us, “All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’”
A sinner. It’s well and good to talk about the Kingdom of God and loving your neighbor as yourself, not to mention loving your enemies – but to actually go to the home of one of society’s most notorious villains? That’s a political third-rail move, guaranteed to get you in trouble with your followers. In our day, it might be analogous to working with sex offenders or drug lords to stop cycles of addiction and violence. Many people can see no humanity in people who abuse others, even if many perpetrators are also victims. If you can categorize someone as an abuser, you can stop thinking of her as a person.
Jesus stood with persons who were victimized, condemned the action and the damage caused – and also reached out to perpetrators. Jesus wasn’t interested in popularity – he was invested in the mission of God to reclaim and restore all humanity to wholeness. All humanity – even those who do their worst. Maybe especially those who do their worst.
Jesus had a way of seeing past a person’s outward traits – illness, possession, greed, even violence. He did not confuse people with their diseases or disorders. Rather, he aligned himself with the core self within that person, and directed the power that made the universe to a person’s inner self, weak as it may have been. He saw who Zacchaeus was, apart from all the wickedness he perpetrated. He saw a broken child of God, not just an “extortioner” or a “sinner.”
He invites us to do no less. Sometimes that inner self is hard to find. In people who are far gone on the path of addiction, for instance, the core self may be very, very faint. Yet we can trust that it is there, because this person is a child of God. And we are called to offer our strength and our will and our love to that core self – not to the outer behavior, but to the inner self. In Christ, no one is beyond repair, not Zacchaeus, not anyone, unless they absolutely choose to be.
Can you think of someone who seems beyond redemption, who is so destructive to herself or others, it’s hard to see any humanity? Might be someone you know of; might be a world leader; might be a category you’ve lumped a whole lot of people into. In prayer today, can you hold that person or group in God’s light for a few moments, asking God to rescue them from who they are becoming? To restore them to who they truly are?
Is God calling you to take action to reach out to such a person? It can be like extending your hand to an angry dog – you might get nipped at. Maybe Jesus says, "Do it anyway."
The baptismal covenant Episcopalians affirm asks, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” We can’t respect someone’s dignity if we lump them into a group of others – saints or sinners. We need the courage to see each person on their own terms. The answer to that question in the baptismal rite is, “I will, with God’s help.” God’s help is there for us when we’re at our worst, and God’s help is here for us to help others become their best.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Zacchaeus may have been happy to hear Jesus say he was coming to his house – but no one else thought it a good move. Luke tells us, “All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’”
A sinner. It’s well and good to talk about the Kingdom of God and loving your neighbor as yourself, not to mention loving your enemies – but to actually go to the home of one of society’s most notorious villains? That’s a political third-rail move, guaranteed to get you in trouble with your followers. In our day, it might be analogous to working with sex offenders or drug lords to stop cycles of addiction and violence. Many people can see no humanity in people who abuse others, even if many perpetrators are also victims. If you can categorize someone as an abuser, you can stop thinking of her as a person.
Jesus stood with persons who were victimized, condemned the action and the damage caused – and also reached out to perpetrators. Jesus wasn’t interested in popularity – he was invested in the mission of God to reclaim and restore all humanity to wholeness. All humanity – even those who do their worst. Maybe especially those who do their worst.
Jesus had a way of seeing past a person’s outward traits – illness, possession, greed, even violence. He did not confuse people with their diseases or disorders. Rather, he aligned himself with the core self within that person, and directed the power that made the universe to a person’s inner self, weak as it may have been. He saw who Zacchaeus was, apart from all the wickedness he perpetrated. He saw a broken child of God, not just an “extortioner” or a “sinner.”
He invites us to do no less. Sometimes that inner self is hard to find. In people who are far gone on the path of addiction, for instance, the core self may be very, very faint. Yet we can trust that it is there, because this person is a child of God. And we are called to offer our strength and our will and our love to that core self – not to the outer behavior, but to the inner self. In Christ, no one is beyond repair, not Zacchaeus, not anyone, unless they absolutely choose to be.
Can you think of someone who seems beyond redemption, who is so destructive to herself or others, it’s hard to see any humanity? Might be someone you know of; might be a world leader; might be a category you’ve lumped a whole lot of people into. In prayer today, can you hold that person or group in God’s light for a few moments, asking God to rescue them from who they are becoming? To restore them to who they truly are?
Is God calling you to take action to reach out to such a person? It can be like extending your hand to an angry dog – you might get nipped at. Maybe Jesus says, "Do it anyway."
The baptismal covenant Episcopalians affirm asks, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” We can’t respect someone’s dignity if we lump them into a group of others – saints or sinners. We need the courage to see each person on their own terms. The answer to that question in the baptismal rite is, “I will, with God’s help.” God’s help is there for us when we’re at our worst, and God’s help is here for us to help others become their best.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-28-25 - Who's Coming to Dinner?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
“Jane, can we bring the bishop to your house for lunch?” It was a Sunday, the day after a freak March windstorm had left much of the town without power, and our bishop was making an annual Visitation. We held worship in a dimly lit church, and shivered through a coffee-less coffee hour, but the only place with electricity where the Vestry might have lunch with the Bishop was Jane’s house. Jane was of the generation that views a bishop’s visit as a Big Deal, worthy of weeks of cleaning and polishing – but she said yes, tidied as best she could, got out the fine china, and hosted us. Ready or not.
It must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree: When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today."
A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, such a celebrity he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off? Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
We might imagine it in prayer today – envision that scenario: the note, your response, the preparation, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of connecting with Jesus in our imagination.
I suspect Jesus does send us that message, every day. It goes something like this: “I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers and into the game with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe we always say “yes.” Maybe we say “later,” or “maybe.” We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy meal. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention.
He's the most life-changing dinner guest we could ever host. Every time.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
“Jane, can we bring the bishop to your house for lunch?” It was a Sunday, the day after a freak March windstorm had left much of the town without power, and our bishop was making an annual Visitation. We held worship in a dimly lit church, and shivered through a coffee-less coffee hour, but the only place with electricity where the Vestry might have lunch with the Bishop was Jane’s house. Jane was of the generation that views a bishop’s visit as a Big Deal, worthy of weeks of cleaning and polishing – but she said yes, tidied as best she could, got out the fine china, and hosted us. Ready or not.
It must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree: When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today."
A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, such a celebrity he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off? Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
We might imagine it in prayer today – envision that scenario: the note, your response, the preparation, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of connecting with Jesus in our imagination.
I suspect Jesus does send us that message, every day. It goes something like this: “I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers and into the game with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe we always say “yes.” Maybe we say “later,” or “maybe.” We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy meal. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention.
He's the most life-changing dinner guest we could ever host. Every time.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-27-25 - Up a Tree
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
In last week’s gospel, Jesus told a parable about a fictitious tax collector, a prototype. This week we get to watch as he meets the real thing. Here’s how Luke begins the story: Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
Tax collectors were considered the lowest form of life by their fellow Jews, hated collaborators in the oppressive Roman tax system. In order to enforce collection – and extract enough over the required amount to make a living themselves – a tax collector had to be powerful and mean. Think Mafia “protection” goons, and we start to get the picture. And here’s Zacchaeus – a chief tax collector in the big town of Jericho! And wealthy. He must be very, very good at his despicable job.
Then we learn something sort of endearing – that this notorious man is so short, and so anxious to see Jesus as he passes through town, that he climbs up a tree to get a glimpse. How sweet. Add the fact that generations have learned his story through a Sunday School ditty, "Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he/He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.” It's hard to think of a “wee little man” as scary and villainous.
So which is he? All of the above, and more? This story does not lend itself to either/or thinking. We’ll dig a bit this week. Today, let’s focus on the tree-climbing. I don’t know too many adults who climb trees (though my sister climbed one in her wedding dress for an epic photo…). How badly did this guy want to see Jesus? What did he want from Jesus? Is his ascent an indication of repentance, or curiosity – or did he want to observe without having to engage Jesus?
Today, in prayer, try to imagine the scene, with Jesus coming through your area. Place yourself in the crowd. What unfolds in your imagination? Stay with it... If you got close to Jesus in a crowd, what would you say? Would you ask for healing? Explanations? Forgiveness? This is one way to pray, to imagine an encounter with Jesus in some of the places the Gospels tell us he was – then it’s more like talking to a person and less like sending thoughts into the ether.
Like Zacchaeus, sometimes we need to change our perspective to see Jesus more clearly. This week we’re being invited up a tree – what might we see from there?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
In last week’s gospel, Jesus told a parable about a fictitious tax collector, a prototype. This week we get to watch as he meets the real thing. Here’s how Luke begins the story: Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
Tax collectors were considered the lowest form of life by their fellow Jews, hated collaborators in the oppressive Roman tax system. In order to enforce collection – and extract enough over the required amount to make a living themselves – a tax collector had to be powerful and mean. Think Mafia “protection” goons, and we start to get the picture. And here’s Zacchaeus – a chief tax collector in the big town of Jericho! And wealthy. He must be very, very good at his despicable job.
Then we learn something sort of endearing – that this notorious man is so short, and so anxious to see Jesus as he passes through town, that he climbs up a tree to get a glimpse. How sweet. Add the fact that generations have learned his story through a Sunday School ditty, "Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he/He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.” It's hard to think of a “wee little man” as scary and villainous.
So which is he? All of the above, and more? This story does not lend itself to either/or thinking. We’ll dig a bit this week. Today, let’s focus on the tree-climbing. I don’t know too many adults who climb trees (though my sister climbed one in her wedding dress for an epic photo…). How badly did this guy want to see Jesus? What did he want from Jesus? Is his ascent an indication of repentance, or curiosity – or did he want to observe without having to engage Jesus?
Today, in prayer, try to imagine the scene, with Jesus coming through your area. Place yourself in the crowd. What unfolds in your imagination? Stay with it... If you got close to Jesus in a crowd, what would you say? Would you ask for healing? Explanations? Forgiveness? This is one way to pray, to imagine an encounter with Jesus in some of the places the Gospels tell us he was – then it’s more like talking to a person and less like sending thoughts into the ether.
Like Zacchaeus, sometimes we need to change our perspective to see Jesus more clearly. This week we’re being invited up a tree – what might we see from there?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-24-25 - Losing Our Religion
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
As we have dug down into Jesus’ parable about the two men praying in the temple, I have not been very tolerant of the self-righteous Pharisee. Neither was Jesus. But let’s give him a little regard. He was motivated to please God in the way he knew best – by following the rules and upholding the whole system that made the rules important. Perhaps the rules, the Law, had become his object of worship, obscuring the offer of relationship God gave along with the Law – “You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship. Uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movement of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good, and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re gathering at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would you classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes, that no longer fit, or feed your faith.
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant to intimate? Is there anything on the first list that gets in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion*, but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*According to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression for losing one's temper or composure.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
As we have dug down into Jesus’ parable about the two men praying in the temple, I have not been very tolerant of the self-righteous Pharisee. Neither was Jesus. But let’s give him a little regard. He was motivated to please God in the way he knew best – by following the rules and upholding the whole system that made the rules important. Perhaps the rules, the Law, had become his object of worship, obscuring the offer of relationship God gave along with the Law – “You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship. Uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movement of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good, and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re gathering at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would you classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes, that no longer fit, or feed your faith.
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant to intimate? Is there anything on the first list that gets in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion*, but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*According to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression for losing one's temper or composure.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-23-25 - Justified
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
How do you feel when you put on an elegant garment? I find it changes the way I think about myself. That is one way of understanding justification. Jesus, in ending his story, clearly sides with the repentant sinner, saying, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…” Why was the more “sinful” tax collector justified and the self-righteous Pharisee not? What does Jesus mean by “justified?”
Justification is key to understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. It has to do with being “set right.” Take a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified, according to where they are aligned. As a theological term it means to be made righteous, aligned to God’s will. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. It's not even our own righteousness that is conferred on us, but Christ’s. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive grace, where the contemptuous, "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That is how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How would it feel to put on a royal robe? Imagine it, in prayer. How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have received a cosmic make-over, that you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we become like Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.” And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
How do you feel when you put on an elegant garment? I find it changes the way I think about myself. That is one way of understanding justification. Jesus, in ending his story, clearly sides with the repentant sinner, saying, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…” Why was the more “sinful” tax collector justified and the self-righteous Pharisee not? What does Jesus mean by “justified?”
Justification is key to understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. It has to do with being “set right.” Take a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified, according to where they are aligned. As a theological term it means to be made righteous, aligned to God’s will. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. It's not even our own righteousness that is conferred on us, but Christ’s. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive grace, where the contemptuous, "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That is how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How would it feel to put on a royal robe? Imagine it, in prayer. How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have received a cosmic make-over, that you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we become like Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.” And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
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