Whatever town or village you enter, look for a worthy person in it, and stay there until you leave. As you enter a house, wish it peace. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; if not, let your peace return to you. Whoever will not receive you or listen to your words— go outside that house or town and shake the dust from your feet. Matthew 10: 11-14
Jesus gives his disciples a lesson on how to deal with disappointment and frustration as they spread the Gospel. Not every heart is going to be open to them. Jesus wants them to give their mission a heartfelt try. But if it meets a wall, they should not bang their head against it. Just turn around, let it go, and shake off their concern. Let it be like so much “dust in the wind”.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
All disciples of Jesus, all who sincerely live and preach the Gospel, are going to meet frustration at many points in their lives. We live in a world that is often diametrically opposed to the Beatitudes, the Magnificat, the Our Father. We live with people who cover classroom walls with the Ten Commandments while breaking every one of them in personal practice.
It can be frustrating, but Jesus says not to get caught in that frustration. Rather, he teaches, shake it off and move on to more receptive ground.
Jesus was serious about this and, in another passage, used some harsh words to make his point:
Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces. Matthew 7:6-7
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Over the course of our lives, we will find ourselves somewhere in these passages – disciples or frustraters, pearl- givers or swine! Wherever we stand, God’s grace awaits us.
Poetry: Shake Thyself from the Dust – Mary Hoyt Loveland
Shake thyself from the dust, faint heart; Loose thyself from bands that bind. Thou art not Assyria’s thrall; Captive, rise and freedom find!
Captive, this is Love’s own realm! Lo! the very hills rejoice That oppression is cast down; Yea, the streams lift up their voice.
Yea, each dewy blossom glows, Freed from error’s withering blight. Loosed from tyranny and fear, Captive, turn ye to the light!
Turn ye to the light, and see That no evil can dismay, Gathering clouds of bitterness, Hiding harmony from day.
Turn ye to the light, faint one; In the truth is freedom won!
Wednesday of the Fourteenth Week in Ordinary Time July 10, 2024
Jesus sent out these Twelve after instructing them thus, “Do not go into pagan territory or enter a Samaritan town. Go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you go, make this proclamation: ‘The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.’” Matthew 10: 5-7
In this passage, Jesus is concerned with those who were offered faith in One God but have lost touch with it — “lost sheep of the house of Israel”. He wants these lost believers to be given the message, “The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
While the message conveys a sense of urgency (Hurry up and get your act together), it also offers a calming security. When something is “at hand”, we can touch it. We can hold on to it for balance. We can feel support and accompaniment as we we hold hands with a Loving Presence.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We may hear Jesus’s words either as a warning or an invitation to intimacy. Love is at hand for us, even if our faith has become distracted and our direction “lost”. We are invited to reach out to the God Who waits for us.
Poetry:
“The Beloved is with you in the midst of your seeking! God holds your hand wherever you wander.
Rumi
Music: Hold to God’s Unchanging Hand – Jennie Bain Wilson (1857) Sung here by Lynda Randle
Time is filled with swift transition, Naught of earth unmoved can stand, Build your hopes on things eternal, Hold to God’s unchanging hand. Refrain: Hold to God’s unchanging hand, Hold to God’s unchanging hand; Build your hopes on things eternal, Hold to God’s unchanging hand.
Trust in Him who will not leave you, Whatsoever years may bring, If by earthly friends forsaken Still more closely to Him cling.
When your journey is completed, If to God you have been true, Fair and bright the home in glory Your enraptured soul will view.
Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom, and curing every disease and illness. At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. Matthew 9:32-38
Have you ever felt your heart constrict or your belly drop in the face of deep sadness or shock? If so, you have felt “splancha”, the Greek word for that profound compassion that wells up from our innards for the sake of a suffering person.
Matthew tells us that Jesus felt “splancha” for the crowds because they were troubled and abandoned. They had lost their way to God and had no one to help them find it. Thus he reaches out to heal and teach them about God’s Lavish Mercy.
Today, in that same Lavish Mercy: By the grace of God may we, and all who are in need of grace, be healed of trouble and abandonment to find our way to God through the Mercy of Jesus.
Poetry: Mercy by John F. Dean
Unholy we sang this morning, and prayed as if we were not broken, crooked the Christ-figure hung, splayed on bloodied beams above us; devious God, dweller in shadows, mercy on us; immortal, cross-shattered Christ— your gentling grace down upon us.
Music: Merciful God – The Gettys and Stuart Townend
I will espouse you to me forever: I will espouse you in right and in justice, in love and in mercy; I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the LORD. Hosea 2:21-22
The prophet Hosea is a consummate poet. He uses the metaphor of espousal to convey the profound and merciful love of God for the people. Hosea contemplates his own life and his experience of marital infidelity to more deeply understand the relationship between a forgiving God and a false-hearted people. The language is beautiful, powerful, at times unsettling. It is intended to turn Israel’s heart – and ours – fully toward God’s love in repentance and fidelity.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy
God is the Lover and Spouse of our souls, of the whole Church, and of all Creation. In trust and openness, let us give ourselves to that Divine Mercy in every aspect of our lives.
Poetry: Hosea and Gomer by John Piper
This beautiful poem helps us more deeply understand the Book of Hosea.
The old man and his wife sat by The winter fire and looked out high Above the plains of Ephraim, And saw around the last regime Of Israel the shadows snake Their way from east to west and take Possession of Samaria. “How long until Assyria,’ They thought, “would break Hoshea’s rod, And violate the wife of God?”
But strange as it may seem, the doom They saw across the land left room For hope. And when they looked into Each other’s eyes, as they would do At night, they knew, as none could know But they, that God would bend his bow Against the charms of foreign men, And take his faithless wife again. They knew it could and would be done, As surely as the rising sun Drives darkness back unerringly, And drowns it in the western sea. They knew, because they had rehearsed The tragedy and played it first Themselves with passion and deceit.
“It’s true that life is far more sweet,” Hosea thought, “when it is lost, Then bought again at dreadful cost; And love grows strong when it must wait, And deep when it is almost hate.”
Such things as these he often said To Gomer as they watched the red And crimson echoes of the sky Descend Mount Tabor’s cliffs and die In darkness far below. And she Would say to him, “Your love for me Was like a mountain waterfall, And I the jagged stone. Of all The knives and hammers once applied None made me smooth or clean. They tried, But harlotry was in my blood, Until your love became a flood Cascading over my crude life And kept me as your only wife.”
They knew as none but they could know What it would mean that long ago The Lord allowed his love to swell, And married faithless Israel.
The passing of the years now found The children grown and gathered ’round This night: Jezreel and Loammi, Hosea’s sons, and at his knee Loruhamah. The room was sweet With memories, and each replete With pleasure and with ample pain. Among the memories one main Experience above the rest Embraced them all. It was the best; Indeed it was the mountain spring Of every happy stream from which The family ever drank, and rich With hope. It was Hosea’s love. The children stood in wonder of The way he loved, and Gomer too. But this had not always been true.
Hosea used to say, “It’s hard To be a seer, and prophet bard. The price is high when he must sing A song of ruin over everything In lyrics written with his life And lose his children and his wife.”
And so it was, Hosea heard The Lord. It was the strangest word A holy prophet ever got: And every pointed precept shot Like arrows at Hosea’s life: “Go take a harlot for your wife,” Thus says the Lord, “And feel with me The grief and pain of harlotry. Her father’s name is Diblaim; He makes fertility with cream And raisin cakes. He will not see Her go without a price, for she Has brought him profits from her trade. Now go, and let her price be paid; And bring her back and let her bear Your son. Call him Jezreel. For there Is coming soon a day when I Will strike and break the bloody thigh Of Jehu’s brutal house, and seal With blood the valley of Jezreel.
And after that, though she’s defiled. Go in, and get another child, And make your tender face like rock. Call her Loruahmah and lock Your heart against all sympathy: `Not pitied’ is her name. No plea From faithless Israel will wake My sympathy till I forsake My daughter in the wilderness.
Now multiply once more distress: Hosea, go beget a son, For there is yet one child to shun, And call him Loammi, in shame, For `Not My People’ is his name.”
Hosea used to walk along The Jordan rim and sing the song His father Beeri used to sing. Sometimes the tune and truth would bring Him peace, and he would pause and look At all the turns the Jordan took, To make its way down to the sea, And he would chant from memory:
Think not, my son, that God’s great river Of love flows simply to the sea, He aims not straight, but to deliver The wayward soul like you and me. Follow the current where it goes, With love and grace it ever flows. The years went by, the children grew, The river bent and Gomer knew A dozen men. And finally She left and traveled to the sea, And sold herself to foreign priests Who made the children serve at feasts Until they had no shame. And then The God of grace came down again, And said, “Hosea, go, embrace Your wife beside the sea. And place Your hand with blessing on the head Of Loammi, and raise the dead Loruhamah to life in me, And tell Jezreel that I will be For him a seed of hope to sow In righteousness. Hosea, go, The gracious river bends once more.”
And so the prophet loved these four Again, and sought them by the sea, And bought them with the equity Of everything he owned. That was The memory tonight, because Hosea loved beyond the way Of mortal man. What man would say, “Love grows more strong when it must wait, And deeper when it’s almost hate.”
Jezreel spoke softly for the rest, “Father, once more let us be blessed. What were the words from long ago That gave you strength to love us so? Would you please bless us with your rhyme, And sing it for us one more time?”
“Think not, my son, that God’s great river Of love flows simply to the sea, He aims not straight, but to deliver The wayward soul like you and me. Follow the current where it goes. With love and grace it ever flows.” “And children,” Gomer said with tears, “Mark this, the miracle of years.” She looked Hosea in the face And said, “Hosea, man of grace, Dark harlotry was in my blood, Until your love became a flood Cascading over my crude life And kept me as your only wife. I love the very ground you trod, And most of all I love your God.”
This is the lamp of candle four: A bride made ready at the door. A shabby slave waits her embrace, Blood-bought and beautified by grace.
Last week, a great tree was felled at the edge of our Motherhouse lawn. Having stood for decades near the Guardian Angel, it had shaded many generations on their way to Mercy: students, staff, visitors, and the Sisters themselves on their many ins and outs to this common home.
The whole community which gathers here daily felt a pang at the hewing, knowing that we had shared the very breath of this tree for so long. Its leafy embrace offered us a place to cool in the present, a way to remember the beauty of the past, and a security about the future. Seeing it disassembled by necessity gave a bittersweet pain. But there was a peace in knowing that our tree had come to completion with honor and dignity.
We drew so much from the presence of that tree, but perhaps we can draw even more from its absence. The lines of Gregory Norbet’s hymn “Hosea” come to mind:
Trees do bend, though straight and tall. So must we to others’ call Long have I waited for your coming home to me, And living deeply our new life.
Our tree, even in its retreat, still speaks to us – a truth becoming profoundly evident these days as we mourn the passing of our sister and friend Marie Ann Ellmer. She stood straight and tall among us, but another call came precipitously in the early morning last week.
When a beloved dies, one with whom we drew the same breath and hope, part of us dies. Whether a great tree or a magnanimous soul, they take something with them of the life we shared. When we mourn them, it is that which is taken that we pine for. But as we fold their lives under Love’s eternal blanket, it is that which they have left us that gives joyful peace.
That glorious tree and dear Marie Ann seem to be one now in the solemn aura that follows death. Both, in rare beauty, brought others to the precious gift of Mercy. Both remain treasured in its Everlasting Power. And both have given back to Creation the blessed graces that made them shine among us.
The disciples of John approached Jesus and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast much, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. No one patches an old cloak with a piece of unshrunken cloth, for its fullness pulls away from the cloak and the tear gets worse. People do not put new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined. Rather, they pour new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.” Matthew 9:14-17
Jesus tells the Baptist’s questioning disciples that his is a new world. The confines of the Old Law will no longer contain the new grace of the Paschal Mystery and the Gospel.
Old wineskins become brittle with overuse. The analogy is applicable to many realities in life. Often, as time passes, we pay less attention to some important things or people. We may take them for granted, over-depend on their effectiveness, fail to effectively communicate, surrender to that famous “contemptuous familiarity”.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Immobilizing constriction can affect our faith too. Jesus encourages us to keep faith “fresh” by prayer, communal reflection, and practice. Neither our personal nor our communal faith is static. Grace offers us the invitation to become ever deeper in our understanding of God. The current Synodal process within the Catholic Church is a wonderful example of openness to fresh, new “wineskins” for our faith.
Poetry: Wine Skins – Evelyn McNulta This is a simple poem with devout sentiments, but what struck me most about it is where I found it – in a public newspaper, The Atlanta Chronicle. The poem reminded me of a poet some of my older local readers might remember – James Metcalfe. His “Daily Poem Portraits” were published in The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin during the 1950s. They were a great favorite of my Dad.
My hands are uplifted in homage to Him, They're not empty. They hold loosely those sins that cause separation of His spirit and mine.
Dear Father, take them and fill me with new wine. The wine skins of my life are brittle and hard, They can't hold your new wine because they are marred. Please replace them with supple new skins
That can be distended again and again. These wine skins are vessels that hold Your concerns, Help me remember the things I have learned. The more I am emptied of selfish desires,
The more You can cleanse me with Your cleansing fire. You'll burn away malice, ill-temper and greed, And open my eyes to Your people in need. You'll put unforgiveness also in Your fire,
And fill my heart with the burning desire To worship, to honor, to praise Your dear name. Your new wine remakes hearts, they're never the same. Take mine, Holy Father, change what you will,
I'm nothing without You, I need You to fill Each crevice, and corner and nook of my heart. There's much to be changed, I'm asking, please start.
… people brought to Jesus a paralytic lying on a stretcher. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.”
This passage describes a situation found in just a few of Jesus’s miracles. The miracle occurs because of the intervention of others, not the one in need. When Jesus sees the faith of those who carried this young man, his Infinite Mercy was moved.
It seems that perhaps the afflicted person had lost hope. It was his friends who hoped – his friends who carried him. What a gift it is to have friends who will stand by you in life’s sometimes crippling circumstances. What a blessing to have companions who see your salvation when you have lost the vision!
Acting on the faith of these steadfast friends, Jesus tells the paralytic to reach down into his soul and recover the courage that will make him whole.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We pray to be faithful friends like the ones described in this passage. We pray in gratitude for those who are such friends to us.
Thought:
There is nothing on earth more to be prized than true friendship.
So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” John 20:25
There’s that tiny word for which, despite a magnanimously holy life, Thomas remains famous:
Unless …
At that particular moment in his life, Thomas’s faith was conditional. He would not believe Jesus was alive unless he saw and touched him.
I doubt that Thomas was alone in his “conditionality”. The faith of many of those scared disciples was probably a bit shaky. Thomas was just more forthcoming in his doubts and hadn’t, like some of them, already seen the Risen Lord.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We all know what it’s like to have doubts – about big things, like our faith, and about little things like our appearance. It feels like we’re being dropped into a safety net that might have a hole in it. Will it hold, or will it fall through? And what happens to us in either case!
Decades ago, when I taught eighth grade, one of my brightest students asked me this: “Sister, you’ve dedicated your whole life for the faith. What if, in the end, there is no God or heaven?”
I’m not going to tell you my answer. I’m going to suggest that you consider what your own answer would be. Is your faith conditional or unconditional?
Poetry: St. Thomas the Apostle – Bishop Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825-1906)
The Paschal feast was ended. Multitudes, Unweeting what was done, that day had left The gates of Zion for their far-off homes; And there was silence, where but yesterday Had been the hum of thousands. Olivet Slept calmly underneath the waning moon, And darkening shadows fell across the steeps And hollows of Jerusalem. Deep night Had drench'd the eyes of thousands. But, behold, Within the upper room where Jesus broke The bread of life, and pour'd the mystic wine The night before He suffer'd, once again The little band of those who loved Him most Were gather'd. On the morrow morn they thought To leave the holy city, holier now Than ever in their eyes, and go to meet Their Lord upon the Galilean hill.
All bosoms swell'd with gladness, all save one; One heart amid that group of light and love Was desolate and dark: nine weary days Of doubt, which shadow'd all eternity, Had written years of suffering on his brow. The worst he fear'd to him was realized, Life quench'd, for ever quench'd, and death supreme. Jesus was dead. And vainly others told, How they had seen and heard their risen Lord; Himself had seen the lifeless body hang Upon the cross; and, till he saw like them And like them touch'd the prints in hands and side, He would not, for he could not, hope again.
But there has been enough of sorrow now For that true mourner, sorely tried but true: And as they communed of an absent Lord Jesus was there, though doors were shut and barr'd, There in the midst of them; and from His lips, Who is Himself our Peace, the words of peace Fell as of old like dew on every heart, But surely sweetest, calmest, tenderest On one most torn and tost. The waves were still; Day broke; the shadows fled: nor this alone, Love offer'd all which bitterest grief had ask'd, And laying bare the inly bleeding wound Heal'd it, which haply else had bled afresh In after years, till faith adoring claim'd In One, whom sense no longer sought to touch, The Lord of life, the everlasting God.
O Master, though our eyes have never look'd Upon Thy blessèd face and glorious form, Grant us to trust Thee with a perfect trust, And love Thee and rejoice in Thee unseen, And prove the heaven of Thy beatitude On those who, though they see Thee not, believe.
Music: When I Survey The Wondrous Cross – Keith & Kristyn Getty
A scribe approached and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Another of his disciples said to him, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” But Jesus answered him, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.” Matthew 8: 19-22
The scribe. What was Jesus driving home to this learned interpreter of the Law who now bursts with enthusiasm for discipleship? Perhaps Jesus looked up to a small nest in a nearby tree. Maybe he pointed to it and told the scribe, ” You have to spread your wings and fly with God if you follow me!”
Basically, I think Jesus is saying this:
Think about it. It’s a way very different from your present comfortable life.
We are itinerant preachers, going out to the whole world. We are not intrenched in the Law, commanding people to come to us.
Even the core responsibilities to which you are devoted will be secondary to your Gospel ministry.
The whole foundation of your life will be turned upside-down.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We want to serve God by living the Gospel with a steadfast and enthusiastic heart. We pray for the grace and courage to do so, understanding clearly where our first responsibilities lie as a committed Christian.
Prose from: The Wisdom of the Carpenter by Ron Miller
Jesus walked the earth as a homeless vagrant and identified his disciples by their concern for the most marginalized people in the community. It’s such a simple criterion and yet one so easily forgotten. Daily Prayer: Help me to be especially attentive to You today in those who have so little of the world’s wealth.
Music: He Had Not Where To Lay His Head Score: Alison Willis Text:Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (1825 – 1911)
There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Matthew 5:25-29
After praying with this passage from Mark, I wrote this homily almost a decade ago. I liked it very much. And even though it is long, I thought some of you might like to read it or to pray with it this Sunday.
One of my favorite voices from the 50s and 60s, Sam Cooke is considered one among the greatest R&B artists of all time. Some of you may recall his pop hits like “You Send Me” and “Twisting’ the Night Away”.
Early in his career, he sang with a Gospel group, the Soul Stirrers.
In 1950, Cooke replaced gospel tenor R. H. Harris as lead singer of his gospel group The Soul Stirrer. Their first recording under Cooke’s leadership was the song “Jesus Gave Me Water” in 1950. They also recorded the gospel songs “Peace in the Valley”, “How Far Am I from Canaan?”, “Jesus Paid the Debt” and “One More River”, among many others, some of which he wrote. Cooke was often credited for bringing gospel music to the attention of a younger crowd of listeners, mainly girls who would rush to the stage when the Soul Stirrers hit the stage just to get a glimpse of him. (Wikipedia)
Lavish Mercy 