Today, in Mercy, Jesus poses a question to his followers:
“What is the Kingdom of Heaven like?” It is rhetorical question and he goes on to explain, in beautiful symbols, the joy and fullness of heaven.
But were Jesus walking physically among us today, He might answer his own question by saying:
This is what it is NOT like:
the killing of innocents because of their faith, heritage, lifestyle or politics
the starvation and incarceration of children from Yemen to Mexico to Syria
the fueling of war by an economy of arms sales
the destruction of an environment given to us in trust
the systematic dehumanization of humanity through violence, lies, greed, and political arrogance
the ignorant indifference in “good” people which blindly fosters such dehumanization
Indeed, Rachel weeps for her beloved martyrs in Pittsburgh, for her dear children in Jeffersonville – as do all of decent and loving heart. And she weeps also for thousands who die daily from the failure of love. She weeps for all of us. In a society this sick with violence and hate, we are all victims.
Let us all choose the only survival — to act in mercy, justice and love. Let us do so to the memory of these martyrs and the many whom they follow.
Today, in Mercy, having blessed and reassured the Ephesian community of the power of their Baptism, Paul instructs them in how to live a Christian life. He says that their Baptism demands a life worthy of their call.
Do you feel called? In your daily life, do you recognize the demand to witness to a graced life in the face of a sometimes ungracious world?
Paul says that’s what it’s all about:
the humble, gentle, patient exercise of Christian love
the building of inclusive community through acts of peace
the embrace of one God Who claims all humanity as one people
Therefore, anything that suggests hate, aggression, pride or exclusion is not worthy of our Baptismal call.
I watched – or tried not to watch – a few political ads last night. I heard the vitriolic rhetoric before I could tap the mute button. I saw the news clip about the terrorizing of a particular party’s leaders. My heart keeps saying, “What has happened to us?”
And then I read Paul’s admonitions on Christian responsibility.
Even if our culture’s rampant hostility makes us sad and angry, we must respond to it with Christian courage and peace-building action. We must not become like those who stun us with their indifference to life, humanity, morality and truth. We must never make an appeal to religion as an excuse for loveless behavior.
In our Gospel, Jesus challenges his listeners in a similar way:
Why do you not know how to interpret the present time? Why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?
Our times will challenge our Christian character. Will we pass the test?
Today, in Mercy,Paul proclaims his mission to the Gentiles, announcing that through the Gospel, salvation is offered to all people. He says that, by grace, he became a minister of this Gospel – called to preach “the inscrutable riches of Christ”.
And Paul certainly did an extraordinary job. He had been given much by God, and he gave it back wholeheartedly.
In the Gospel, Jesus talks about that same kind of investment. In answer to Peter’s confusion about the call to be ready for God, Jesus tells the story of wily steward.
This servant had been given much: trust, responsibility, power and probably higher pay. But when the master is away, the trusted servant fails him, acting cruelly and greedily in his own interest.
Jesus ends the story with a pronouncement that has always shaken me a little:
For unto whomever much is given, much will be required.
I know I’ve been given a stunning abundance by God: faith, family, friends and a thousand other graces. But my will and ability to give back sometimes feels as fragile as a decaying leaf. Ever feel like that?
It turns out that even Paul, great Apostle to the Gentiles, felt that way too. He says so in his letter to the Corinthians. Paul asks God to remove his fragility.
But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
Let’s pray today to be good stewards of the amazing riches God has given us – in Creation, Faith, Grace and Community. Let us invite God’s power to perfect our weakness, all for the sake of God’s glory.
Even a lacy leaf can be beautiful when it is filled with Light.
Music: My Grace is Sufficient for You – Keith and Amy Amano
Today, in Mercy, our readings from Isaiah and Mark sound almost Lenten in tone. Isaiah gives us the image of a broken Jesus, crushed by a “suffering that justifies many”.
Mark recounts the story of the two rather oblivious disciples asking to sit in glory beside Jesus. They do not realize that the path to this glory is through Gethsemane and Calvary.
Jesus asks them the same question he asks us throughout our lives:
“Can you drink the cup that I will drink?”
We know that there are sacrificial cups of many sizes and shapes among us. Just this past week, with the canonization of St. Oscar Romero, we were reminded of the immense sacrifices of Romero and the Salvador people to practice their faith in dignity.
Each of our sufferings and sacrifices may seem so much smaller by comparison. But when they are united with Christ in faith and hope, they too are redemptive.
We will be asked, as Jesus was, to lay down our life.
It may be in the unselfish raising of a family, or the humble pastoring of a church community.
It may be in the long-term care of an elderly parent or neighbor.
It may be in a ministry of healing, teaching, or encouragement where another requires our labor, patience and mercy.
It may be as a public servant who actually serves, or as a private nurse who tenderly nurses.
It may be as a community member who builds life by respect, responsibility, and mutuality.
We will come to realize, as did the ambitious sons of Zebedee, that true discipleship is not flash and glam. It is the daily choice to quietly lift the cup we have been given, and raise it to the honor of God – in openness, trust, joy and delight that we are called to share in the life of Christ.
Music: The Cup of Salvation ~Shane & Shane (Lyrics below.)
I love the Lord for He heard my voice
And answered my cry for mercy
Because He listened to me
I will call upon Him as long as I live
CHORUS
What shall I render to the Giver of life and who all things are made What shall I render to the One who paints the oceans blue Jesus Christ
I will lift up a cup of salvation Call on the Name of the Lord How do I repay the life that You gave I’ll call on the Name of the Lord Lift up a cup, You have already poured
What kind of rendering is found in this taking
Found in this drinking of love
Love so abundant He meets me in depravity
With one thing to give
CHORUS
You have delivered my soul from death
My eyes from tears
My feet from stumbling
And I will walk before the Lord
In the land of the living
Today, in Mercy, we read the magnificent Ephesians prayer, spoken by Paul over his beloved community — and over us.The phrases are like sacred honey, each one to be individually savored and consumed.
I never cease giving thanks for you
May God give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation
May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened
May you know what is the hope that belongs to God’s call
… what are the riches of glory in his inheritance among the holy ones
… and what is the surpassing greatness of his power for us who believe
Wow! What if we prayed for one another like that? What if we prayed for ourselves like that?
Sometimes we, and our companions on life’s journey, do require prayers for a specific need: recovery from illness, strength in a time of trial, courage in darkness.
But we should pray for one another every day – a prayer that transcends specific needs – a prayer for wisdom, faith, understanding, and wild confidence in God’s lovingpower in our lives.
Such a prayer, like Paul’s, helps create a web of spiritual resilience for our beloveds, around them and within them. This is the power of the Communion of Saints.
Yesterday in Vatican City, St. Oscar Romero was canonized. This holy man was Archbishop of San Salvador from 1977 until his assassination while offering Mass on March 24, 1980. After Archbishop Romero’s death, a twelve-year civil war ensued in El Salvador, killing an estimated 75,000 people.
The Catholic Church in El Salvador, during these years, became deeply involved in protecting the lives and land rights of the poor who were severely oppressed by a militaristic government. This corrupt government engaged the assistance of the United States to suppress the people by interpreting their struggle as “communism”.
For years, the Salvadoran government received US supplied arms and military training at the School of the Americas in Ft. Benning, Georgia.It was someone trained with these arms who martyred St. Oscar Romero – and thousands of his poor, over many years.
Romero was not a politician. He averted confrontation wherever possible. But he could not stand by as thousands of his flock were slaughteredbecause their human rights threatened the status and greed of the powerful.
Sometimes we hear the empty adage that religion should never mix with politics.
St. Oscar Romero is one of hundreds of women and men who became saints because they believed the opposite.
Our faith is irrevocably entwined with the rest of our lives. Our Gospel demands that we embrace and honor the poor, the oppressed and the marginalized. We may not be called to the level of witness that Oscar Romero was. But we, each in our own way, are called to understand issues of justice, and to act as Jesus would.
We are called to challenge our government, as did many activists during these years, when it is blind to its own sins. The USA is still selling arms to oppressive governments, still supporting regimes and practices that ignore human rights. Our voices and our votes need to be informed, clear, and faith-filled. I find Network and excellent source of education for me on these issues:
Please read the lyrics below first, as they are a little difficult to understand. The images in the video are painful to view, but offer testament to the gross injustices the Salvadoran people endured.
There’s a sunny little country south of Mexico Where the winds are gentle and the waters flow But breezes aren’t the only things that blow In El Salvador
If you took the little lady for a moonlight drive Odds are still good you’d come back alive But everyone is innocent until they arrive In El Salvador
If the rebels take a bus on the grand highway The government destroys a village miles away The man on the radio says ‘now we’ll play South of the Border’
And in the morning the natives say, We’re happy you have lived another day Last night a thousand more passed away In El Salvador
There’s a television crew here from ABC Filming Rio Lempe and the refugees Calling murdered children the ‘tragedy’ Of El Salvador
Before the government cameras 20 feet away Another man is asking for continued aid Food and medicine and hand grenades For El Salvador
There’s a thump, a rumble, and the buildings sway A soldier fires the acid spray The public address system starts to play South of the Border
You run for cover and hide your eyes You hear the screams from paradise They’ve fallen further than you realize In El Salvador
Just like Poland is ‘protected’ by her Russian friends The junta is ‘assisted’ by Americans And if 60 million dollars seems too much to spend In El Salvador
They say for half a billion they could do it right Bomb all day, burn all night Until there’s not a living thing upright In El Salvador
They’ll continue training troops in the USA And watch the nuns that got away And teach the military bands to play South of the Border
And kill the people to set them free Who put this price on their liberty? Don’t you think it’s time to leave El Salvador? Songwriters: Jim Wallis / Noel Paul Stookey
Today, in Mercy, Paul and Peter have a big fight – two of the Greats take it to the mat over an issue of inclusivity in the early Church.
To put the episode in a nutshell, Peter had succumbed to political pressure from Jewish Christians to isolate non-Jewish Christians from full participation in the Church. The pressure was rooted in nationalism, religious prejudice and unexamined fear. Peter, in an attempt to manage these forces, made a huge misstep.
Paul, seeing that Peter’s actions would set a dangerous and divisive precedent in the emerging Church, confronted him before the whole community. For a moment in time, these two pillars of Christianity stood on separate shores.
Ultimately, through prayer, respect and discernment, Peter and Paul continued together to shepherd the embryonic Church toward a new reality – one built on, but beyond, the Judaism in which they both had been raised.
The Church, as a living reality, will always be challenged by issues of growth, identity, inclusion and other concerns. But as soon as we define ourselves as anything other than simply Christians, we run the risk of moving to our own “separate shores”.
We are not conservative or liberal Christians. We are not American, or European or Asian Christians. We are not gay or straight, Black or White, male or female, rich or poor Christians.
We are all sisters and brothers in the Gospel of Christ, standing on the same shore with Him, praying to our one Father. May this shared prayer help us to become who we are called to be.
Today, in Mercy, we meet Martha and Mary. These sisters are the personification of the Benedictine motto: Ora et labora: Pray and work – the two essentials that we all struggle to balance in our lives.
They, with their brother Lazarus, are dear friends of Jesus. The scriptures show us that Jesus felt comfortable at their home, and that they loved to have him stay with them.
As all of us do with our closest friends, Jesus understood the lights and shadows of their personalities – and they of his. He knew that Martha was the organizer, the one who planned and worried about the incidentals. Mary was deeply spiritual, but maybe had her head in the clouds a bit when it came to getting things done.
Perhaps these personality differences caused some tensions between the sisters, as they might between us and our family members or close friends. Sometimes these little, unnoticed frictions can suddenly become chasms between us and those we love.
How and why does it happen?
Jesus gives us the answer in this Gospel passage. He hears Martha’s simmering frustration. He calms her, as one might a child – “Martha, Martha…”. We can hear his gentle tone. Jesus tells her that worry and anxiety are signs that we are not spiritually free. He tells her that Mary has focused on the important thing.
This may sound repetitious, but just think about it a while:
It is so important to know what is important.
It is so freeing to agree on what matters with those closest to us. Talking with each other in openness, respect, and unconditional love is the only path to that freedom.
Martha and Mary slipped off that path a bit in this situation. But with Jesus’ help, they righted their relationship.
That’s the best way for us to do it too. Let Jesus show us what is most important through sharing our faith, and even our prayer, with those closest to us. Let him show us where our self-interests, need for control, fears and anxieties are blocking us from love and freedom.
It is the same way that we, like Mary, can strengthen our relationship with God. It is not sufficient for our prayer to consist of incidentals — pretty words and empty practices.
We must sit open-hearted at the feet of Jesus and let him love us, let him change us. Even in the midst of our responsibilities and duties, we must balance “the better part”.
Music: a charming little song by Peg Angell which leaves me with same practical question I always have when reading this passage: who actually did get the dinner ready?😂
Today, in Mercy, our Gospel gives us the parable of the Good Samaritan. It is a story in which we can all find ourselves, maybe changing roles in the changing circumstances of our lives.
Have we ever been the robbers, the bullies, the outlaws who in some way used force or subterfuge to gain their own advantage? We don’t have to be a criminal to do this. We can do it by our prejudices, our preferential treatment, our secrets and our cliques. We can do it by our uninformed or willful choices which deprive others of their needs and rights.
Have we ever been the Levite, the one who claims a special religious place by family heritage? Have we ever, like the Levite in the parable, bypassed someone because of her religion or ethnic origins – because she isn’t “like us”?
Have we ever been this pathetic priest who so completely misunderstands the role of minister – who ignores God’s suffering creature for fear of some imagined contamination?
Have we ever been the victim, the one set upon by the meanness of others, the one unable to heal himself from injury? Has the memory made us more like the Samaritan or like the robbers once we were healed?
And finally, have we ever been the Samaritan? Do we even want to be? Or do we think him foolish to have given his own time and treasure for a stranger?
This parable is a study in differences and how we respond to them. Some use differences to separate rather than enrich their world. They fail to understand that we all belong to each other and will live forever as one family in heaven. If we don’t learn to do it in this life, we won’t be part of it in the life to come.
Realizing this may change how we might have responded on that ancient road – or the road right now where we’re all just walking each other home.
Today, in Mercy, our reading from the Book of Numbers reveals a very human moment between Joshua and Moses.
Moses is getting older. He realizes that the time is approaching for him to hand over the leadership of his people. God seems to realize that too.
The LORD came down in the cloud and spoke to Moses. Taking some of the spirit that was on Moses, the LORD bestowed it on the seventy elders; and as the spirit came to rest on them, they prophesied.
Joshua, ever since his youth, has been aide to Moses. Moses is his hero – the one, who having spoken with God, led the People out of Egypt. Now Joshua sees other ordinary guys assuming some of Moses’s roles. Joshua feels his own security and comfort shifting beneath him, hints of a spiritual earthquake.
An outraged Joshua alerts Moses, begging him to stop these supposed imposters. But Moses assures Joshua with words no hero-worshipper ever wants to hear:
Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the people of the LORD were prophets! Would that the LORD might bestow his spirit on them all!
What a powerful question Moses poses. It searches Joshua’s heart:
Are you jealous for my sake?
Are you fearful, biased, closed-hearted,
and self-protective because you fear
that you and I will lose position and power?
Surely Moses senses Joshua emerging as the next leader of Israel — even though Joshua might not share that awareness yet. Moses wants him to see that it is the Spirit of God Who leads the People through any human means She wishes.
When we presume to control the Spirit, or think to invest Her power only in our own particular “heroes”, we close ourselves to the amazing, surprising power of God. This Divine Power cannot be controlled and, like wildflowers through concrete, will bloom where She chooses.
We see the fruits of such presumption all over our histories: the falsely assumed superiority of men over women, whiteness over color, wealth over labor, age over youth, or any form of dominance over mutuality. These assumptions become concretized in our culture, hardening us to the movements of the Spirit.
If we have any hold on privilege in our lives, we might be inclined to profit by these assumptions. It is just such an inclination that Moses nips in Joshua in this powerful exchange between revered teacher and apprentice.
Music: An oldie, but goodie. Always brings me a deep peace.I hope it does the same for you, dear reader.
Lavish Mercy 