Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy Mercy, vigorous, grace-filled David dances with abandon before the Lord. It is a beautiful moment to imagine!
David went to bring up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom into the City of David amid festivities. As soon as the bearers of the ark of the LORD had advanced six steps, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. Then David, girt with a linen apron, came dancing before the LORD with abandon, as he and all the house of Israel were bringing up the ark of the LORD with shouts of joy and to the sound of the horn.
2 Samuel 6: 12-15
David dances with unselfconscious joy because he has brought the Presence of God home to the heart of the community. The joy comes from recognizing that God wants to be with the People. This joy, inexpressible in words, takes the form of a dance with the Spirit of God.
Let’s pause today with that dancing image, to consider all the ways God longs to dance with us throughout our lives, and we with God — dances of both:
joy and sorrow, faith and questioning, hope and shadow
… dances in which we must abandon ourselves to the moment’s sacred music and respond to God’s mysterious, leading step.
Whatever the emotion we bring to prayer, what matters is only that we carry it close to God’s heart, listening to our circumstances for the Divine Heartbeat. We may not be the “Fred Astaire” or “Ginger Rodgers” of prayer, but each one of us has a holy dance somewhere in their heart.
I think our children can teach us something about this kind of uninhibited prayer – one filled with trust, hope, joy, and innocence.
Poetry: T. S. Eliot
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, ~ T.S. Eliot
A second lovely poem, even though it is not Easter 🙂
Easter Exultet
Shake out your qualms. Shake up your dreams. Deepen your roots. Extend your branches.
Trust deep water and head for the open, even if your vision shipwrecks you.
Quit your addiction to sneer and complain. Open a lookout. Dance on a brink.
Run with your wildfire. You are closer to glory leaping an abyss than upholstering a rut.
Not dawdling. Not doubting. Intrepid all the way Walk toward clarity.
At every crossroad Be prepared to bump into wonder. Only love prevails.
Enroute to disaster insist on canticles. Lift your ineffable out of the mundane.
Nothing perishes; nothing survives; everything transforms! Honeymoon with Big Joy! ~ James Broughton
The motherhouse chapel is hushed in sacred quiet. We have spent these New Year’s Eve hours in prayer, thanksgiving, and hope. Now in midwinter’s purple shadows, a silent nun touches her single, small light to the majestic candelabras to prepare for this Mass which balances on the turning of the years. The tiny flames slowly saturate the darkness, transforming it to a warm, golden invitation.
Our Mercy family gathers from the places where they have been praying. Each one carries a heart filled with the past year’s blessings and challenges and with the new year’s hopes.
As each one enters the chapel, she places her thoughts in the ciborium of silence. She pours her needs into the chalice of trust.
Evening, through the stained-glass windows, breaks its dark rainbow across the sanctuary, wakening an expectant God to receive our promises. The schola rustles to life for the celebration. With them, our spirits hum the treasured Christmas harmonies learned in distant novitiates. Some who will celebrate Jubilee this year gather at the back of chapel for the entrance procession, awed that the years have carried them to this moment. The stage is set for the great liturgy of renewal, for on this night each year, we pronounce again the vows that sculpt our lives.
This is a most-hallowed ritual for year after year in Mercy, even before we were born, we have been carried by the sacrament of one another’s fidelity. As we light the slender tapers, we remember and are encouraged by our beloved sisters who now live the fulfillment of their vows in heaven.
We give thanks for the new life of our candidates and novices whose eyes and hearts open in wonder at the incredible power of call and community. And we see the inexplicable beauty of one another whose lives, woven together in joys and sorrows through the years, have carried us to the merciful heart of God.
These are the grains of bread. These are the drops of wine – these lives, taken and called by God, blessed and broken over the world, given again and again in mercy for the poor, sick and uneducated. This is the Eucharist of our vowed and covenanted lives. This is the Body and Blood of Christ.
On this night, the spice of life steeps in a mulled wine where tart experience and sweet assurance marry in faith. On this night, we offer the past; we pledge the future, but we do so in this present moment which alone holds meaning. It is in this vowed moment – this pledged renewal – that the host is lifted and the cup sanctified. It is a moment repeated infinitely in the faithful living of our call. It is the moment of transformation.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we begin a three-week immersion in John’s magnificent first letter. At the same time, our Gospels will take us on a somewhat random journey with Jesus through his very early years.
Today’s Gospel, however, differs from the expected pattern and – yes, right here in the Christmas season – gives us an account of the Resurrection!
Early in the morning, on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene ran and went to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we do not know where they put him.” So Peter and the other disciple went out and came to the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and arrived at the tomb first; he bent down and saw the burial cloths there, but did not go in. When Simon Peter arrived after him, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there, and the cloth that had covered his head, not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.
John 20: 1-8
Did somebody get mixed up? Did someone think it was the Octave of Easter, not Christmas! No, of course not. I think the choice of this Gospel, at this point in the Liturgical Year, serves at least two purposes:
From the start of Christ’s life, it establishes how his days will end. Therefore, throughout the ensuing year, we are to read and interpret all of the Gospel in the glorious light of the Resurrection.
Placing this Gospel here, to accompany our first reading, clarifies exactly who John is — the one who indeed saw, heard, and touched the Word of God made visible in Jesus Christ and therefore is eminently qualified to testify to Christ.
Beloved: What was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we looked upon and touched with our hands concerns the Word of life — for the life was made visible; we have seen it and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was made visible to us—
1 John 1:1-2
One very popular form of both fiction and non-fiction is the love letter. Some of the most wonderful books are in the genre. Three of my favorites fit the category:
84, Charing Cross Road – Helene Hanff
The Love Letters – Madeleine L’Engle
A Green Journey – John Hassler
Reading such literature evokes a reverence for the lives we touch in the gathered words. We read what is said and imagine what is unsaid. We witness the depth of another’s self-donation and we ponder our own capacity for such a gift.
In 1 John, we are granted the privilege of reading John’s love letters to his God and to his community. John’s love is profoundly deep yet simply expressed. We might tend to skip through his rich but clipped phrases. But to truly plumb them requires us to suspend time and rest with his words until they open in us like flowers in sunlight.
Poetry: The Living Word – Herman Hesse
The sun speaks to us through light. Flowers give voice to fragrance and colour. The air communes through clouds, snow, and rain. From the sacred center of the world streams forth an irrepressible desire to overcome the silence between things. Art, the ever flowing fountain, reveals the secret of life through word and gesture, colour and sound.
The world wants to be known to spirit and find expression for timeless wisdom. All life longs for a language. Deep intuitions wish to surface, find words and numbers, lines and tones, always evolving forms of understanding.
The red and blue of flowers and the verses of the poet point to the inner workings of creation, always pregnant with beginning and never-ending. When word and sound marry, where songs soar and art unfolds all life is brimmed again with spirit. And every melody and book and every painting is a revelation, is another fresh attempt to unfold the harmony of life. Poetry and music invite you to understand the splendors of creation. A look into a mirror will confirm it. What disturbs us often as disjointed becomes clear and simple in a poem: Flowers start laughing, the clouds release their rain, the world regains its soul, and silence speaks.
Merry Christmas, dear readers! May our sweet Jesus abundantly bless you and those you love.
Below is a video beautifully edited by our Sister Mary Kay Eichman. We both thought you might like to enjoy it, whole or in parts, over this Christmastide.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, let us pray within the amazing Presence of God in our life renewed in us this Christmas.
Mary is wrapped in the cold darkness of this winter night. She is vulnerable as she waits to bring forth her child. Yet she feels wrapped in tenderness by God and supported by God’s love. She longs to welcome this Holy Child in warmth And to wrap him in the same love and tenderness.
We too want to welcome Jesus with warm tenderness. In Mercy, we have tried to bring Christ into world and to warm and comfort people with God’s presence.
Is there a person in your life, Or a place in your heart today that needs warmth, comfort and love?
Be in quiet prayer for that person or place for a while as we absorb the amazing graces offered us in the Christmas miracle.
Prayer
Today the Christ Child is born We welcome Him into our hearts We wrap Him in our adoration.
Today the Christ Child is born In the refugee who longs for home In the sick who long care In the poor who long for sustenance In the uneducated who long for hope In these, we welcome Him. We wrap them in our prayer.
Today the Christ Child in born In children who long for a future In families who long for unity In elders who long for peace In all people who long for dignity and love In these, we welcome Him. We wrap them in our prayer.
Today the Christ Child is born In our Church that longs for holiness In our community that longs for grace In our world that longs for peace In our hearts that long for God In these we welcome Him. We wrap them in our prayer.
(Today, the Church repeats the King O Antiphon. But I love the concept of Christ as Radiant Dawn. It also fits so clearly with the sacred purifications alluded to in today’s readings.)
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have finally reached the “delivery” stage of Advent. Just like those Amazon packages that keep showing up on doorsteps in the days preceding Christmas, other important arrivals are popping up in our readings.
Malachi announces that a prophet is coming who will purify the people, particularly concerning their worship practices which have corrupted:
Thus says the Lord GOD: Lo, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me; And suddenly there will come to the temple the LORD whom you seek, And the messenger of the covenant whom you desire. Yes, he is coming, says the LORD of hosts.
It seems that Malachi and his friends, perhaps like some of us, haven’t had the discipline and devotion to safeguard the Temple rituals. Maybe like Mal and the gang, we start to take things for granted, to become cavalier about liturgical intention, to cut corners, to program our own agendas into the sacred rituals of common prayer. — to forget that God is the center of worship, not us.
Becoming that “forgetful” hardens the heart to grace. The One Who longs to encounter us in prayer and worship is stymied by our distracted negligence.
Our Gospel, too, is reminiscent of a sanctuary scene, for it was there that Zechariah learned that a prophet was actually going to be his son! Zechariah encountered God’s Word purifying his life and directing it in a totally unexpected manner. Surely, in the ensuing nine months of silence, the essence of Zechariah’s worship was transformed.
In today’s reading, the incredulous neighbors at John’s bris question Elizabeth’s assignment of such an unfamiliar name. But Zechariah confirms Elizabeth’s declaration. Zechariah’s purification and graceful evolution are complete. His tongue is loosened to proclaim the Word God has spoken in his silent heart.
“There is no one among your relatives who has this name.” So they made signs, asking his father what he wished him to be called. He asked for a tablet and wrote, “John is his name,” and all were amazed. Immediately his mouth was opened, his tongue freed, and he spoke blessing God.
Luke 1: 61-64
(I often wonder why the neighbors “made signs” to Zechariah. Why didn’t they just speak to him? He wasn’t struck deaf, just mute.:)
Poetry: Zechariah by Andy Sabaka, Pastor of Grace Fellowship Church in Louisville, KY
Day one of his nine months of silence Began as Zechariah entered God’s presence. When he walked past the curtain to behold Gabriel standing by the incense altar of gold, Zechariah did what all who are not regularly In the presence of such shining authority Do: he fell to his knees, filled full with dread, Assuming in moments he would be struck dead. Yet Gabriel’s words were frightfully comforting, Ringing off the walls like heavenly trumpeting. “Zechariah, my friend, do not be afraid, For the prayers you and Elizabeth have prayed, Have been heard by our God, the All-powerful One, And I tell you, soon your bride will bear a son. His name will be John, a man set apart, Filled with God’s Spirit, calling the hearts Of all who will listen to make room and repent Because the coming Messiah is soon to be sent.”
The announcement of who the promised child would be, Never reached Zechariah’s ears, for all he could see Was Elizabeth’s barrenness and how old they both were. He was stung that the promise had come so long after They had given up hope of any offspring. The guarantee of a child brought back an old sting. His fear of the angel faded, now replaced by disbelief, Combined with renewed disappointment and grief. He said to the angel, “How shall I know this is true? Can’t you see we are old; our youth long ago flew? So I hear your authoritative proclamation But from the little I know about procreation…” “Silence,” the angel said, and Zechariah obeyed the command. “Gabriel is my name; before God in heaven I stand. I was sent from there to give you this good news. But since you have rejected these wonderful truths, You will be silent until you see their fulfillment.” And at the exit of Gabriel, Zechariah’s voice also went.
The crowd outside had been worried at Zechariah’s delay, So when he finally emerged, they demanded right away An explanation for all that had happened inside, But Zechariah’s mouth could give none, no matter how he tried. It was obvious to all that a vision had been sent And those who heard of his muteness responded with wonderment. Yet the response to Zechariah’s silence was nothing compared To the way that everyone would stop and then stare At Elizabeth’s pregnant stomach. How could it be That a woman her age could possibly conceive?
So it was that dumbfounded silence was the reply To Gabriel’s message that could no longer be denied.
Elizabeth named her child John the day he was born, But everyone received the name with great scorn, Insisting the name Zechariah was the right one, But his father wrote clearly: “His name shall be John.”
It was in that moment of faith, when Zechariah obeyed, When he showed he believed all the angel had said, God reached down and touched the lips of the man, Releasing his tongue to speak once again. And when his voice first spoke after being dead for so long, It rang out clearly in the words of this song:
Praise the Lord, the God of Israel, who has come to save And redeem his people – a horn of salvation he will raise And he will come from the house of David, his servant, The one who the prophets said would be sent, Bringing salvation from our enemies and great mercy To our fathers before and to all who now see The promise of Abraham fulfilled in our days. We are free now to serve with no fear in the way To walk in righteousness before the rising sun, And in holiness from this blessed day on.
And you, John, my son, will be a prophet of the Most High, Preparing the way for him – in the desert you will cry, Giving the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of sins That the tender mercy of God has come here to win. He will rise like the sun from heaven and shine bright On those living in darkness, giving them sight, Calling them out of the shadow of death to release Their feet to walk in the path paved with peace.”
Our first advent candle tells us to recall The miracle of Christmas and the wonder of all It took for our God to prepare and then send His Son to bring sin and death to an end. Let us silently wait in this season pregnant with meaning Until God loosens our lips to break forth with loud singing About the rising sun from heaven who has risen again And brings forgiveness and life to each of us when We repent and believe that God can do Any miraculous thing that he wants to, Including save doubting sinners like you and like me, Shutting our mouths, making us able to see.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with our beautiful O Antiphon:
In our prayer, we call out to God as a Leader, a Leader we desperately crave because we cannot find the way ourselves. Oh, how badly we need that Divine Leader today!
Throughout these past few weeks, as I have prayed and written about the salvation history of Israel, interwoven with our Christian faith, I have been so painfully aware of the current situation in the Holy Land. The human carnage being executed there, as well as in Ukraine, screams against our mounting stagnation and indifference.
As the world observes and opines over the sacrilegious slaughter of human life, I know God’s heart breaks, as does the heart of anyone who loves as God loves. Where are the human leaders who will hear God’s cries to fashion a peace for these people, and for the world which is sickened by their suffering.
“We, people of God who proclaim the Gospel of the Risen One, have the duty to cry out this truth of faith: God is a God of peace, love, and hope. A God who wants us all to be brothers and sisters, as His Son Jesus Christ taught us. The horrors of war, of every war, offend the most holy name of God. And they offend Him even more if His name is abused to justify such unspeakable carnage.”
Pope Francis
War, and its reflection in proliferating smaller violences, is the extreme expression of a heart and a civilization deadened by sin. When a culture has normalized the tactics of death, it can be rescued only by the Divine.
As we pray today with Jeremiah’s promise to a beleaguered people, let us pray for mercy and justice for all people, especially women, children, and the poor who are always the most brutalized in war. And let’s do all that we can to move our government to moral leadership against the embedded sin of global violence.
Behold, the days are coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up a righteous shoot to David; As king he shall reign and govern wisely, he shall do what is just and right in the land. In his days Judah shall be saved, Israel shall dwell in security. This is the name they give him: “The LORD our justice.”
Jeremiah 3:5-6
Prayer: On Peace and War – Walter Brueggemann from Prayers for a Privileged People
We are aware, acutely aware in your presence, of the grind of tanks, of the blast of mines hidden against human flesh, of the rat-tat-tat of sniper fire. We are aware of the stench of death, bodies of our own military women and men, bodies of countless Iraqis, and the smell makes us shiver.
Such smells and sounds are remote from us, but not remote from us are bewilderment, and anxiety, and double-mindedness. We are bewildered, whether we are liberators or invaders, whether they are terrorists or freedom fighters, whether we should yearn for peace or savor victory.
The world has become so strange, and our place in it so tenuous, where gray seems clearer than the white purity of our hopes, or the darkness of our deathly passions. There is so little agreement among us, perhaps so little truth among us, so little, good Lord, that we scarcely know how to pray, or for what to pray.
We do know, however, to whom we pray! We pray to you, creator God, who wills the world good; We pray to you, redeemer God, who makes all things new. We pray to you, stirring Spirit, healer of the nations. We pray for guidance, And before that, we pray in repentance, for too much wanting the world on our own terms.
We pray for your powerful mercy, to put the world – and us – in a new way, a way after Jesus who gave himself, a way after Jesus who confounded the authorities and who lived more excellently. Whelm us by your newness, by peace on your terms – the newness you have promised, of which we have seen glimpses in your Son who is our Lord.
Music: End the War. Grant Us Peace – Lord’s Loving Melody
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, there is a graceful coincidence of several themes calling me to prayer. I share them with you:
On November 11th, Sisters of Mercy throughout the world commemorate the death of our beloved founder Catherine McAuley.
This year that commemoration falls on the feast of the beautiful St. Martin of Tours.
Our readings for the day prompt us to consider our beloved companions on our spiritual journey who provide a harbor of blessings in a fearsome world.
Not just today, but often, I think about what Catherine would be like if she lived among us today. In her day, she was ever practical, focusing on healing the greatest unmet needs around her.
Her “un-technologized” world was smaller than ours. She encountered need simply by a walk through Dublin’s neighborhoods. Were she here today, need would pour into her awareness from every corner of the earth via technological means. How would she focus the power of her merciful heart for our times?
Our readings prompt me to think that Catherine would do the same three things she did almost two hundred years ago:
She would gather her companions on the journey
Together, they would empty their spirits of anything that was not of God
In that profound spiritual clarity, they would see where God called them to be Mercy for the world.
In our first reading, Paul names a number of his companions, those who strengthened and assisted him in life and ministry. Catherine too had beloved companions without whom she could not have met the challenges of her call.
In our Gospel, Jesus affirms that our hearts must be emptied of the undue love of anything that distracts us from God and God’s Way:
No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon.” The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all these things and sneered at him.And he said to them, “You justify yourselves in the sight of others, but God knows your hearts; for what is of human esteem is an abomination in the sight of God.”
Luke 16: 12-15
While in her times, Catherine encountered the ravages of material poverty, I think that something much less tangible, but exponentially more destructive, would capture her ministerial awareness today.
Our world suffers from an intrinsic and debilitating fear which inclines us to amass power and possessions to the impoverishment of those around us. The fear of not being or having enough drives the systemic predation of the rich upon the poor, and the powerful over the weak. It is a fear that grows in a heart emptied of God.
While Catherine would continue to address the needs of those suffering from poverty and disenfranchisement, I think she would reach out in a new way to the healing of those underlying fears. These fears fester in a culture of spiritual ignorance endemic to our modern society. The naming and healing of that ignorance is deeply congruous with Catherine’s charism and calls to us urgently today.
About St. Martin de Porres, Pope John XXIII said this:
“He loved his neighbors with the benevolence of the heroes of the Christian faith.”
So did Catherine McAuley. So must we.
Poetry: Where the Mind is Without Fear – Rabindranath Tagore
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high Where knowledge is free Where the world has not been broken up into fragments By narrow domestic walls Where words come out from the depth of truth Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit Where the mind is led forward by thee Into ever-widening thought and action Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let us awake.
Music: There is No Fear in Love – The Bible Project
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings are about spiritual wealth, stewardship, and Godly generosity.
Paul starts us off by proclaiming that the wealth/riches of salvation belong to ALL humanity. He presents himself as a unique “steward “ of those riches to the Gentiles.
But I have written to you rather boldly in some respects to remind you, because of the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in performing the priestly service of the Gospel of God, so that the offering up of the Gentiles may be acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:15-16
Our Gospel gives us a second interpretation of “stewardship” in the parable the wily steward. This fella’ gets called on the carpet for squandering his employer’s resources. Pink slip time!
So the steward calls in some of the debtors and reduces their debt by the amount of his own commission. By doing this, he hopes to make some friends to support him in his impending unemployment.
Many years ago, there was a Talbot’s outlet in the Franklin Mills Mall in Northeast Philly. You could get an amazing deal on the clearance items. But you got an even better deal if you went to a certain cashier for your checkout.
He was a tall, flamboyant and loudly funny guy. If a price tag was missing on an item, you got it virtually for free. He would make outlandish comments like, “Oh, honey, this isn’t your color so let’s discount it 50%.” If you bought two of the same item, he might announce,”Two for one today”, charging for only one. He was a living example of the Biblical steward! Over time, he developed a devoted buying community – those who had learned the secret of why people waited in his long line!
In today’s parable, Jesus isn’t advocating that we cheat our employers. The parable isn’t really about that at all. It is about the way Jesus wants his disciples to be profligate in preaching the mercy of God.
Remember that this parable comes in between two blockbusters about Mercy- the Prodigal Son and Lazarus and the Rich Man. In a way, you might say Jesus is on a tear about the unbounded generosity of God in forgiveness and hope for us. He makes clear that the wealth of Divine Love is delivered to us by our unbounded Christian love for one another.
So today, maybe we can think about the Talbot’s guy. We have been abundantly blessed by God’s love for us. Let’s pay it forward over and over today… and every day. Let’s generously share the infinite discount of Mercy.
Poetry: from Day of a Stranger by Thomas Merton
I am out of bed at two-fifteen in the morning, when the night is darkest and most silent. . .. I find myself in the primordial lostness of night, solitude, forest, peace, a mind awake in the dark, looking for a light, not totally reconciled to being out of bed. A light appears, and in the light an ikon. There is now in the large darkness a small room of radiance with psalms in it. The psalms grow up silently by themselves without effort like plants in this light which is favorable to them. The plants hold themselves up on stems that have a single consistency, that of mercy, or rather great mercy. Magna misericordia. In the formlessness of night and silence a word then pronounces itself: Mercy.
Music: Jesus Paid It All – Elvira M. Hall (1865) This rendition of the hymn by Kristian Stanfill (born 1983) is so interesting. Offered here with modern instrumentation, the words date back to the era of the US Civil War. Past and present meld in the ever eternal love God has for us.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Paul and Jesus seem to give us contradictory messages. Paul talks about love, and Jesus tells us what we must “hate” – a bit of a challenge to untangle the core message.
Here’s one way.
We don’t like Jesus telling us to “hate” anything, as in:
If anyone comes to me without hating his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:26
Come on, Jesus! You don’t mean that do you – my sweet mom, my precious kids???
No, the scholars say, Jesus doesn’t mean “hate” the way we interpret it in modern English. He is using the common, hyperbolic language of the ancient East which, in this circumstance, would mean “love less or without bias”.
So what is Jesus really saying?
This.
We love many people and things in our lives. But we must love God, and God’s dream for all people, above and within all things.
And that’s not easy! Life is a maze of relationships and situations that can get us very confused about what is most important. That’s why Jesus uses such strong language to remind us that there is only one way through the maze: to love as God loves. This is the heartbeat of our life in God!
Paul says this too, indicating as well how to negotiate the maze by keeping Love’s commandments.
We have such a critical example of this love-hate dynamic in our world just now. The terrible situation in the Holy Land has brought out radical feelings in people all over the world. People who love Israel and abhor violence are disgusted and furious over the attack against the Israeli people. People who love and pity the Palestinians, who have been suppressed into human desperation for decades, are equally disgusted and furious over the mass revenge being wrought upon innocents in Gaza and the West Bank.
I think Jesus would say this to us: You must “hate” those human relationships enough to make you not take sides in this horror. You must look past blood ties and religious ties. You must look to the human person, God’s creature like you who is the innocent victim of political forces. You must add to the voice for justice, mercy, and humane solutions.
No matter how far we may feel from the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East, each one of us is at a point of moral discernment regarding them. As massive funding is poured into weapons of war, how do we respond to the ongoing massacre of innocent people? I ask myself what is required of me as a citizen of the world to make my voice heard in this unspeakable tragedy.
If we love with God’s love, of course we will love those we cherish. But we will love them selflessly, with an infinite generosity that always chooses their eternal good. And we will try always to love all Creatures in the same way, seeking to the degree that is possible their well-being and peace. This is the kind of love Jesus taught us on the Cross. May God give us the courage to learn.
Prose: Remarks of Pope Francis at the Angelus on October 15, 2023
Dear brothers and sisters, I continue to follow with great sorrow what is happening in Israel and Palestine. I think again of the many people … in particular of the children and the elderly. I renew my appeal for the release of the hostages, and I strongly ask that children, the sick, the elderly, women, and all civilians not be made victims of the conflict. May Humanitarian Law be respected, especially in Gaza, where it is urgent and necessary to ensure humanitarian corridors and to come to the aid of the entire population. Brothers and sisters, many have already died. Please, let no more innocent blood be shed, neither in the Holy Land nor in Ukraine, nor in any other place! Enough! Wars are always a defeat, always!
Prayer is the meek and holy force to oppose the diabolical force of hatred, terrorism and war.
Music: Ubi Caritas performed by Stockholm University Choir (texts below)
Latin Text
Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor. Exsultemus, et in ipso jucundemur. Timeamus, et amemus Deum vivum. Et ex corde diligamus nos sincero. Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Simul ergo cum in unum congregamur: Ne nos mente dividamur, caveamus. Cessent iurgia maligna, cessent lites. Et in medio nostri sit Christus Deus. Ubi caritas et amor, Deus ibi est. Simul quoque cum beatis videamus, Glorianter vultum tuum, Christe Deus: Gaudium quod est immensum, atque probum, Saecula per infinita saeculorum. Amen.
English Translation Where charity and love are, God is there. Love of Christ has gathered us into one. Let us rejoice in Him and be glad. Let us fear, and let us love the living God. And from a sincere heart let us love one. Where charity and love are, God is there. At the same time, therefore, are gathered into one: Lest we be divided in mind, let us beware. Let evil impulses stop, let controversy cease. And in the midst of us be Christ our God. Where charity and love are, God is there. At the same time we see that with the saints also, Thy face in glory, O Christ our God: The joy that is immense and good, Unto the World without end. Amen.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Paul gives us one of his most heartfelt and beautiful passages, and Jesus offers us a puzzling parable about the kingdom.
Paul’s exhortation to sincere holiness is a passage that warrants frequent reading. At any given point in our lives, one or another of its encouragements will seem to ring profoundly true with our circumstances.
One of the lines that I particularly cherish goes like this in the old Douay-Rheims version, which is where I first encountered it as a young girl:
Love one another with fraternal charity: with honor preventing one another.
The bolded phrase fascinated me. I didn’t understand what it meant. From what were we to prevent one another?
It was not until I came to the convent that I begin to discern the power of this verse. At the time (during the Dark Ages, of course), the Sisters lived under the 1952 Constitutions of the Sisters of Mercy, an adaptation of the ancient Rule of St. Augustine. As postulants, we each received a 4×6, 128 page copy of the Rule. In direct and intentional language, it set the frame for our whole lives.
I nearly memorized it, especially Chapter 14 on Union and Charity. Right in the middle of the Chapter, I found this precious line:
They (the Sisters) shall sincerely respect one another. The young shall reverence the old and all shall unceasingly try in true humility to promote constant mutual cordiality and deference, “with honor preventing one another”.
Sister Inez, our dear early instructor, explained that this meant to anticipate the needs of our beloved sisters, especially the elderly; to do for them what might be difficult for them before they had to ask. In other words, to prevent their need. She said that this anticipatory charity should mark our service toward everyone, especially the poor, sick and ignorant whom we would vow to serve.
The more all of us can live together with this mutual love and respect, the closer we come to the kingdom of God, to the banquet table described in today’s Gospel. Jesus came to gather us all around this table. Pity on those who resist his invitation because their lives are entangled in self-interested endeavors. Their places are taken by “the poor, the crippled, the blind and the lame” and all those on the margins of society.
As we join our sisters and brothers at the banquet of life, may we love and serve one another sincerely, always with honor preventing one another.
Poetry: Emily Dickinson
If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.
Music: a little motion mantra this morning. Maybe you might want to get up outta’ that chair and join in🤗
Lavish Mercy 