And everyone who has given up houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or lands for the sake of my name will receive a hundred times more, and will inherit eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first. Matthew 19:29-30
Today’s Gospel builds on yesterday’s theme: what is it that we have to give up to inherit eternal life? We might interpret this Gospel passage to mean that we have to give up everything to achieve perfection – “houses, brothers, sisters…”.
But I think it means not so much what we have to give up as what we need to acquire. We need to acquire that absolute thirst for God that allows us, when necessary, to put everything else aside.
Thought:
“A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.”
Jesus said to him, “If you wish to be perfect, go, sell what you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” When the young man heard this statement, he went away sad, for he had many possessions. Matthew 19:21-22
All of us who pray the Gospel have probably, at one time or another, put ourselves in the place of this young man. We don’t want to “go away sad” from the invitation of Jesus. We’re good people who want to be even better. What is that final gift that we must give to God to become the full person God created us to be?
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We listen to God speaking in our lives. There is always a call to greater intimacy with God through our living out of the Gospel. May we have the grace and courage to hear this infinite call.
Poetry: The Call of the Far – Rabindranath Tagore
Ever I am restless I am athirst for the far. My time passes by And in an absent mind I keep waiting at my window Hoping and hoping you will come. O how my entire being Is eager for your intimate touch! O you far, O you boundless far So irresistible is the call of your flute But I forget I have no wings I am bound to one place. I am listless, I am indifferent. At the sun-tinged lazy midday Among the rustling of the trees In the play of light and shade In the blue of the sky I get a glimpse of your fugitive form. O you far, O you boundless far So irresistible is the call of your flute But I forget my doors are barred.
Some Pharisees approached Jesus, and tested him, saying, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any cause whatever?”
Matthew 19:3
The Pharisees miss the whole point of the Presence of Jesus. Think of it: here they have the Messiah they have longed for right in their midst. They can talk to him, touch him, listen to him. Instead, they are strangled in rationalizations which prevent them from believing.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We ask for a clear and innocent faith, one not caught in the need for proofs and signs. May we hold nothing back from God in our practice of faith.
Poetry: Two Went Up Into the Temple to Pray– Richard Crashaw
Two went to pray? O rather say One went to brag, th’ other to pray:
One stands up close and treads on high, Where th’ other dares not send his eye.
One nearer to God’s altar trod, The other to the altar’s God.
For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.
Matthew 18:20
Today’s Gospel speaks to the power of community and the responsibility of being a member. Being gathered in the Name of Christ means being gathered in love where each one seeks the good of all others.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We realize that community is itself a ministry and sacrament exercised by a group of people who choose to love God by loving and supporting one another for mission. Whether that be in a family, a religious community, a workplace, a local or universal Church, we owe one another honesty, respect, encouragement, hospitality, and compassion. These gifts release each one of us to minister in love to a broken world.
Poetry: The Things that Count – Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)
Now, dear, it isn’t the bold things, Great deeds of valour and might, That count the most in the summing up of life at the end of the day. But it is the doing of old things, Small acts that are just and right; And doing them over and over again, no matter what others say; In smiling at fate, when you want to cry, and in keeping at work when you want to play— Dear, those are the things that count.
And, dear, it isn’t the new ways Where the wonder-seekers crowd That lead us into the land of content, or help us to find our own. But it is keeping to true ways, Though the music is not so loud, And there may be many a shadowed spot where we journey along alone; In flinging a prayer at the face of fear, and in changing into a song a groan— Dear, these are the things that count.
My dear, it isn’t the loud part Of creeds that are pleasing to God, Not the chant of a prayer, or the hum of a hymn, or a jubilant shout or song. But it is the beautiful proud part Of walking with feet faith-shod; And in loving, loving, loving through all, no matter how things go wrong; In trusting ever, though dark the day, and in keeping your hope when the way seems long— Dear, these are the things that count.
The Lord God said to me: Son of man, eat what is before you; eat this scroll, then go, speak to the house of Israel. So I opened my mouth and he gave me the scroll to eat. Son of man, he then said to me, feed your belly and fill your stomach with this scroll I am giving you. I ate it, and it was as sweet as honey in my mouth. He said: Son of man, go now to the house of Israel, and speak my words to them. Ezekiel 3:1-3
The scroll represents the Word of God which we are all called to embrace by the faithful living of our lives. We cannot fully do so with only our mind and its analysis. When we do only that, the Word seems difficult and vexing.
Rather, we must consume the Word making it part of ourselves. It must become the sustenance without which we cannot live. When we do that, the Word becomes sweet and longed for.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We ask for a deep longing for God’s Word and the courage to fully embrace it by our faithful lives.
Poetry: Immersion – Denise Levertov
There is anger abroad in the world, a numb thunder, because of God’s silence. But how naïve, to keep wanting words we could speak ourselves, English, Urdu, Tagalog, the French of Tours, the French of Haiti… Yes, that was one way omnipotence chose to address us—Hebrew, Aramaic, or whatever the patriarchs chose in their turn to call what they heard. Moses demanded the word, spoken and written. But perfect freedom assured other ways of speech. God is surely patiently trying to immerse us in a different language, events of grace, horrifying scrolls of history and the unearned retrieval of blessings lost for ever, the poor grass returning after drought, timid, persistent. God’s abstention is only from human dialects. The holy voice utters its woe and glory in myriad musics, in signs and portents. Our own words are for us to speak, a way to ask and to answer.
When he came into the house, before he had time to speak, Jesus asked him, “What is your opinion, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth take tolls or census tax? From their subjects or from foreigners?” When he said, “From foreigners,” Jesus said to him, “Then the subjects are exempt. But that we may not offend them, go to the sea, drop in a hook, and take the first fish that comes up. Open its mouth and you will find a coin worth twice the temple tax. Give that to them for me and for you.” Matthew 17:25-27
Can you see Peter shaking the little fish until the coin popped out in his hand? Can you see his astounded face at this magical miracle? As we picture the scene, we may realize that there are miracles hidden in all Creation, in all experience if we can trust and seek the truth.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Jesus wants to teach us too, just as he taught Peter and encouraged his faith. We need to look around our lives and to seek the hidden miracles in our daily experience. Jesus may smile at our grateful astonishment, just as he smiled at Peter.
Poetry: The Temple Tax – William Merriman
I have the taste of money in my mouth. The metallic tang covers my tongue, As my throat unslackens and unlooses Prayers, praises, verses, songs With one hand raised to the altar, And the other in my pocket.
You who drew the fish from the water And withdrew the coins of copper From its consuming, biting teeth To pay the price of entry— Kill this mammon greed, And, instead, Lord, enter me.
Music: some lovely music as you think about spiritual “fishing”
Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. Matthew 16: 24-25
This passage from Matthew is one of the most astounding challenges Jesus gave his disciples: deny yourself, take up your cross, follow me.
What does it really mean to deny oneself? Does it mean to become a doormat or a Milquetoast? Does it suggest repressing one’s personality or ambitions? To act like a nobody?
Of course not! So many places in both the Hebrew and Christian scriptures assure us that we are unique, precious, and beloved of God. God doesn’t want us not to be ourselves because that’s who we were created to be!
I think denying oneself means not getting caught in the mirror of selfishness. Instead we are called to focus on Jesus and his absolute care for all Creation, especially those who are poor, sick, outcast, and troubled. We can’t really do that if we are consumed with self-interest.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We ask for the grace to be aware, brave, and faithful enough to put the good of others first for the sake of Christ.
Poetry: As the Ruin Falls – C.S. Lewis
All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through: I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.
Peace, re-assurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek, I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin: I talk of love --a scholar's parrot may talk Greek-- But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.
Only that now you have taught me (but how late) my lack.
I see the chasm. And everything you are was making My heart into a bridge by which I might get back From exile, and grow man. And now the bridge is breaking.
For this I bless you as the ruin falls. The pains You give me are more precious than all other gains.
Music: Deny Yourself – Paul Melley
Deny yourself. Take up your cross . Despite the pain Despite the cost. Leave all behind and follow me. Deny yourself, be free.
For what will it profit to gain the world and lose your life? Those who would save their life will lose it. What can you give in return for your life? For those would lose their life will find it. Deny yourself.
Come, take up your cross and daily follow me and you will have rich reward in heaven. Those who have left their home and family for his sake inherit one hundred fold, inherit eternal life. Deny yourself.
What can you give in return for your life? For those who would lose their life, lose their life will find it Deny yourself
Lord, you reveal the depth of your life and your love in your everlasting covenant. Strengthen the faith we share, fill our work with your love, and bring all of us to grace, to the grace you promise.
But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD. I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer will they have need to teach their friends and relatives how to know the LORD. All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the LORD, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more. Jeremiah 31:33-34
In today’s first reading, Jeremiah’s love song with God continues. He tells the people that God will “marry” their hearts by writing the Divine Design within them, and that all shall be included in that covenant of Infinite Mercy.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: In Jesus Christ, we are living in the fullness of that promise. Even in an apparently contradictory world, our faith impels us to believe, and to live a life which trusts that fulfillment.
Poetry: Draw Near – Scott Cairns
προσέλθετε(Come)
For near is where you’ll meet what you have wandered far to find. And near is where you’ll very likely see how far the near obtains. In the dark katholikon the lighted candles lent their gold to give the eye a more than common sense of what lay flickering just beyond the ken, and lent the mind a likely swoon just shy of apprehension. It was then that time’s neat artifice fell in and made for us a figure for when time would slip free altogether. I have no sense of what this means to you, so little sense of what to make of it myself, save one lit glimpse of how we live and move, a more expansive sense in Whom.
Music: Love Overflows – Michael Hoppé
One glass half empty One glass half full, Some may be dry now Mine overflows. See what you want to. Each to their own. My eyes are wide open And love overflows
In the darkest hours when you’re alone, think of me, darling, And love overflows. In the darkest hours, when you’re alone, think of me, darling, and love overflows.
Then the LORD said to Moses, “I will now rain down bread from heaven for you. Each day the people are to go out and gather their daily portion; thus will I test them, to see whether they follow my instructions or not.
“I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them: In the evening twilight you shall eat flesh, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread, so that you may know that I, the LORD, am your God.” Exodus 16:11-12
In both our readings, God recognizes physical hunger and ties it to spiritual strength.
In our Gospel, Jesus makes the connection clear. He tells his followers:
“For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”
No matter how much we are “fed”, we will never be satisfied until our nurture blesses the rest of the world as well as ourselves.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We ask to be more aware of, grateful for, and generous with the blessings we have received.
Poetry: Bread – Richard Levine
Each night, in a space he’d make between waking and purpose, my grandfather donned his one suit, in our still dark house, and drove through Brooklyn’s deserted streets following trolley tracks to the bakery.
There he’d change into white linen work clothes and cap, and in the absence of women, his hands were both loving, well into dawn and throughout the day— kneading, rolling out, shaping
each astonishing moment of yeasty predictability in that windowless world lit by slightly swaying naked bulbs, where the shadows staggered, woozy with the aromatic warmth of the work.
Then, the suit and drive, again. At our table, graced by a loaf that steamed when we sliced it, softened the butter and leavened the very air we’d breathe, he’d count us blessed.
The seed is the word of God, Christ is the sower; all who come to him will live for ever.
Encapsulating today’s Gospel, our Responsorial Psalm delivers the clear message that Christ sows the Word of God in our hearts. Will that Divine Seed be overwhelmed by selfish weeds? Or will it thrive? The answer comes with very high stakes – eternal life.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We pray for a fertile soul, open to God’s Word, vibrant with the Gospel of Christ.
Poetry:May we raise children who love the unloved things – Nicolette Sowder
May we raise children who love the unloved things – the dandelion, the worms & spiderlings. Children who sense the rose needs the thorn & run into rainswept days the same way they turn towards sun…
And when they’re grown & someone has to speak for those who have no voice may they draw upon that wilder bond, those days of tending tender things and be the ones.
Lavish Mercy 