Jesus said to them: “Offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to them as well. If anyone wants to go to law with you over your tunic, hand them your cloak as well. Should anyone press you into service for one mile, go with theme for two miles. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not turn your back on one who wants to borrow.”
Although the word “reverence” is not specifically mentioned in our readings, it summarizes their core message.
Jezebel has no reverence for human life. She is a conspirator, thief, and murderer. Jezebel has no moral code and only one interest in life – herself.
Jesus calls his followers to be the antithesis of Jezebel. We are to so reverence life and truth that we become like Jesus. We are to be peaceful, non-violent, forgiving, and generous – even toward the “jezebels” of this world.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Wow! No easy challenge, but nonetheless essential for discipleship! We ask Jesus to give us insight into any selfishness in our hearts, and the courage to live according to his mandate.
Prose: from Dorothy Day
“The greatest challenge of the day is: how to bring about a revolution of the heart, a revolution which has to start with each one of us?
When we begin to take the lowest place, to wash the feet of others, to love our brothers and sisters with that burning love, that passion, which led to the Cross, then we can truly say, ‘Now I have begun.'”
Children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth. Now this is how we shall know that we belong to the truth and reassure our hearts before him in whatever our hearts condemn, for God is greater than our hearts and knows everything. Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence in God and receive from him whatever we ask, because we keep his commandments and do what pleases him.
1 John 3:18-22
John makes it so clear and simple, doesn’t he? It’s what we do that matters, not what we say. Jesus said the same thing once when he pointed out a tree to his disciples and said, “By their fruits, you will know them..”
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Let’s take a good look at our lives, and the lives of those we allow to influence us. Are we like trees bearing good fruit – good deeds of charity, peace, forgiveness, mercy, honesty, respect, encouragement, hope, and fidelity?
If our deeds reflect the opposite of these virtues, John says they condemn us. He calls us to Gospel faithfulness in what we do as well as what we say.
Poetry:
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a weary world.
William Shakespeare
Music: Good Tree – Hillbilly Thomists (I thought these guys were fascinating! See more about them on their website: https://www.hillbillythomists.com/about)
You can’t gather grapes from a bramble bush Or pick a fig from thorns What I’d like to be Oh, to be a good tree
Some fall in the rocks, on the beaten path Some sink into great soil From a tiny seed Oh, to a good tree
Like a cedar high And mustard wide Where all the birds of the air can hide Find rest inside
Oh, a good tree The beetle bites The black rot strikes From the inside Have your enemies
Oh, if you’re a good tree High and dry Some branches die From time to time A prune’s required If you wanna be Oh, a good tree
Even when I’m old I still will be Still full of sap, still green That’s what I want to be Oh, to be a good tree
By Your word The dark is light The tree of death becomes the tree of life So let it be Oh, to be a good tree Oh, to be a good tree Oh, to be a good tree Oh, to be a good tree Oh, to be a good tree
Ah, Equinox! Today our Earth will put away her winter jewels – her cold snow pearls and glistening ice diamonds stored until distant December. With them, she lays aside her cool reserve, the stark elegance of silhouetted trees against a white landscape. She says, “I have finished my silent retreat”.
Instead, Lady Earth unveils her costume jewelry – that improbable mix of pinks, purples, greens and yellows. Even though this morning in Philadelphia, she wraps them in a shimmering chill, we know it hides a riotous, tumbling April.
Every year we wonder if those bare trees and barren hillsides will ever green again. But they do! Spring is the act of “Great Forgiveness”. It is the time when Nature mirrors the Infinite Mercy of her Creator and says, “Fear not, Sweet Earth. I am deeper than your cold. My resilience has redeemed us both for another chance at life”.
We human beings, too, are capable of such resilience. I remember my mother’s infinite patience with an annoying neighbor whose seemingly innocent conversation harbored veiled references to her economic superiority. Little wintry comments like, “It’s a shame you didn’t choose a Hoover. It would make your life so much easier!” Even as a child, I was nettled almost beyond tolerance by her chilly comparisons.
But my mother, who was no push-over and who did not suffer fools gladly, was patient and faithful. She would tell me that Mary never had the love of family and friends that we enjoyed. She helped me understand that sometimes people can’t help showing the December within their hearts if they have never been kindled by another’s kindness. My mother wanted me to live from the “Great Forgiveness” that can warm any cold, indifference, or careless judgment.
At one point when I was still very young, my mother became quite ill and after a long hospitalization, returned home for an extended recuperation. During that time, Mary came every day to cook for our large, working family. Weekly, she cleaned our house with the same decrepit vacuum she had earlier criticized. Without a word, Mary challenged me to learn another lesson about the nature of fidelity and true friendship and the opportunity to give it voice without words.
Years later, I read a quote that captured these lessons: “Always be kind. We never know the battles someone else may be fighting.” These are lessons I remember with gratitude today in this equinox of another “Great Forgiveness”. It is a largesse we can imitate if we simply remember the mercies we have received from the hand of our forgiving God.
One day, while the elders were waiting for the right moment, she entered the garden as usual, with two maids only. Susanna decided to bathe, for the weather was warm. Nobody else was there except the two elders, who had hidden themselves and were watching her. “Bring me oil and soap,” she said to the maids, “and shut the garden doors while I bathe.”
Daniel 13:15-18
“Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Again he bent down and wrote on the ground. And in response, they went away one by one, beginning with the elders. So he was left alone with the woman before him. Then Jesus straightened up and said to her, “Woman, where are they?
John 8: 7-10
We encounter so much in life that is hidden – motives, ambitions, agendas, pasts, judgments, reactions. We hide these things for all kinds of reasons. The lustful elders hid their actions for fear of discovery and condemnation. The Gospel stone throwers hid their pasts to exonerate themselves by judgment of another.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We are reminded that with God nothing is hidden. And nothing needs to be. We can place our lusts, false judgments, and any other shadow-laden weaknesses in God’s Light because that Light is Forgiveness and Healing. That Light will free us to become forgivers and healers ourselves.
Poetry: Peter Quince at the Clavier – Wallace Stevens
Wallace Steven’s poem and Handel’s oratorio indicate the extent to which the tale of Susanna has been culturally interpreted down through the ages.
Just as my fingers on these keys Make music, so the selfsame sounds On my spirit make a music, too.
Music is feeling, then, not sound; And thus it is that what I feel, Here in this room, desiring you,
Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk, Is music. It is like the strain Waked in the elders by Susanna:
Of a green evening, clear and warm, She bathed in her still garden, while The red-eyed elders, watching, felt
The basses of their beings throb In witching chords, and their thin blood Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna.
II
In the green water, clear and warm, Susanna lay. She searched The touch of springs, And found Concealed imaginings. She sighed, For so much melody.
Upon the bank, she stood In the cool Of spent emotions. She felt, among the leaves, The dew Of old devotions.
She walked upon the grass, Still quavering. The winds were like her maids, On timid feet, Fetching her woven scarves, Yet wavering.
A breath upon her hand Muted the night. She turned— A cymbal crashed, And roaring horns.
III
Soon, with a noise like tambourines, Came her attendant Byzantines.
They wondered why Susanna cried Against the elders by her side;
And as they whispered, the refrain Was like a willow swept by rain.
Anon, their lamps' uplifted flame Revealed Susanna and her shame.
And then, the simpering Byzantines Fled, with a noise like tambourines.
IV
Beauty is momentary in the mind— The fitful tracing of a portal; But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives. So evenings die, in their green going, A wave, interminably flowing. So gardens die, their meek breath scenting The cowl of winter, done repenting. So maidens die, to the auroral Celebration of a maiden's choral.
Susanna's music touched the bawdy strings Of those white elders; but, escaping, Left only Death's ironic scraping. Now, in its immortality, it plays On the clear viol of her memory, And makes a constant sacrament of praise.
Music: Guilt trembling spoke my doom – George Frideric Handel
Susanna is an oratorio by George Frideric Handel. Handel composed the music in the summer of 1748 and premiered the work the next season at Covent Garden theatre, London, on 10 February 1749. (Lyrics below.)
Guilt trembling spoke my doom, And vice her joy display’d, Till truth dispell’d the gloom And came to virtue’s aid. Kind Heav’n, my pray’rs receive, They’re due alone to thee, Oppression’s left to grieve, And innocence is free.
Your piety is like a morning cloud, like the dew that early passes away.
Hosea 6:4
_______
… the tax collector stood off at a distance and would not even raise his eyes to heaven but beat his breast and prayed, ‘O God, be merciful to me a sinner.’ I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former; for everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
Luke 18: 13-14
I think the word “Piety” has taken on a rather saccharine connotation because we mistake it for an overly sentimental, and sometimes insincere, devotion. However, the word piety comes from the Latin word pietas, the noun form of the adjective pius (which means “devout” or “dutiful”).
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Picture Michelangelo’s Pieta. Let yourself feel the emotion captured in the heart of that sculpture. That is pietas/piety – a deep, penetrating presence and love that cannot fully be put into words. A humble, sincere prayer like that of the tax collector is the fruit of such piety.
Most of us are not great sinners. We just make some mean – and perhaps continual – choices that can block the flow of grace into our hearts. God stands beside us as we make such choices, ready to hear us when we turn and ask for the Mercy that will free and deepen us.
Prose: from Point Counterpoint by Aldous Huxley
Aldous Huxley (1894 – 1963) was an English writer and philosopher. His bibliography spans nearly 50 books, including novels and non-fiction works, essays, narratives, and poems. By the end of his life, Huxley was widely acknowledged as one of the foremost intellectuals of his time. He was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature nine times.
From the quote below, Huxley obviously had strong opinions about religion but especially about false piety. Although Jesus would never have put it this way, the sentiments echo those in today’s readings.
“In the abstract you know that music exists and is beautiful. But don’t therefore pretend, when you hear Mozart, to go into raptures which you don’t feel. If you do, you become one of those idiotic music-snobs … unable to distinguish Bach from Wagner, but mooing with ecstasy as soon as the fiddles strike up.
It’s exactly the same with God. The world’s full of ridiculous God-snobs. People who aren’t really alive, who’ve never done any vital act, who aren’t in any living relation with anything; people who haven’t the slightest personal or practical knowledge of what God is. But they moo away in churches, they coo over their prayers, they pervert and destroy their whole dismal existences by acting in accordance with the will of an arbitrarily imagined abstraction which they choose to call God.
Just a pack of God-snobs. They’re as grotesque and contemptible as the music-snobs … but nobody has the sense to say so. The God-snobs are admired for being so good and pious and Christian. When they’re merely dead and ought to be having their bottoms kicked and their noses tweaked to make them sit up and come to life.”
Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.
Matthew 18: 21-22
Today’s parable reminds us that often our desire to be forgiven does not match our desire to forgive others. Of course, we understand our personal circumstances and see clearly how they deserve leniency. Can’t you hear yourself saying:
“I didn’t mean it!”
“I just forgot.”
“Give me another chance!”
“I won’t let it happen again.”
Many times people do hurtful things because of their own fears. Mercy calls us to receive and forgive those fears and limitations with the same generous grace as God receives us. And our merciful openness must extend endlessly .. “77 times”. That kind of sincere forgiveness takes a lot of grace. Let’s pray for it today.
Poetry: Forgiveness – George MacDonald
God gives his child upon his slate a sum – To find eternity in hours and years; With both sides covered, back the child doth come, His dim eyes swollen with shed and unshed tears; God smiles, wipes clean the upper side and nether, And says, ‘Now, dear, we’ll do the sum together!’
Who is there like you, the God who removes guilt and pardons sin for the remnant of his inheritance; Who does not persist in anger forever, but delights rather in clemency, And will again have compassion on us, treading underfoot our guilt?
Micah 7:18-19
We are all familiar with the powerful story of the Prodigal Son.
The word “prodigal”, like many words, can have both light and dark connotations. Its definition, according to Oxford Languages, is twofold:
spending resources recklessly
giving on a lavish scale
On the darker side, many of us interpret the parable from the viewpoint of the son, considering him “prodigal” because he is excessive in the abuse of his inheritance. Others see the “Father” as an expression of God’s Lavish Mercy and Prodigal Love toward us even when we make life-changing mistakes.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We might choose to pursue both understandings of the word “prodigal” in our prayer today:
to ask God’s forgiveness and healing for any sinful prodigality in our lives
to imitate God’s Prodigal Generosity in our interactions and relationships
Poetry: The Prodigal – Nancy Cardozo
Prodigal of prayer am I, Prodigal of tear, But I have used God sparingly — I think He does not hear.
Stars to wish on flicker flash And I know stars will wear; But I doubt and if I weep, Stars will never care.
I have let my prayer sift down Through a starry sieve; Will God gather up the dust If I believe?
Music: He Ran To Me’ (The Prodigal Son) – Phillips, Craig and Dean
Israel loved Joseph best of all his sons, for he was the child of his old age; and he had made him a beautiful long cloak. When his brothers saw that their father loved him best of all his sons, they hated him so much that they would not even greet him.
Genesis 37: 3-4
Joseph, beloved of his father Jacob, wore a multi-colored expression of his father’s love. Because others were jealous of this love, Joseph, the innocent one, was persecuted. Nevertheless, he endured and eventually forgave his brothers, giving them the means for a new life.
Joseph is a prototype of Jesus, the Beloved Son who displayed his Father’s love by his life of mercy. Jesus, Supreme Innocence, was persecuted too, endured death, forgave his persecutors, and gave us new life.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
In my prayer, I ask myself what patterns of Joseph and Jesus do I see in my world? Where do I see Innocence suffering? Where do I see mercy offered rather than persecution? Where do I see the need for acknowledgement and forgiveness?
Where do I see these things in my wider world and in myself? My awareness and response is the way I walk with Christ this Lent.
Poetry: Joseph’s Coat – George Herbert (1593-1633), English poet, orator, priest, and venerated Saint of the Church of England.
Herbert’s poem suggests that through the “joyes” and “griefs” of life, one finds sanctification only through God’s love and mercy. His imagery references Joseph’s downfall at the hands of his brothers and restoration through God’s design
Wounded I sing, tormented I indite, Thrown down I fall into a bed, and rest: Sorrow hath chang’d its note: such is his will, Who changeth all things, as him pleaseth best. For well he knows, if but one grief and smart Among my many had his full career, Sure it would carrie with it ev’n my heart, And both would runne untill they found a biere To fetch the bodie; both being due to grief. But he hath spoil’d the race; and giv’n to anguish One of Joyes coats, ticing it with relief To linger in me, and together languish. I live to shew his power, who once did bring My joyes to weep, and now my griefs to sing.
Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee approached Jesus with her sons and asked … “Command that these two sons of mine sit, one at your right and the other at your left, in your kingdom.” Jesus said in reply, “You do not know what you are asking. Can you drink the chalice that I am going to drink?” They said to him, “We can.” He replied, “My chalice you will indeed drink, but to sit at my right and at my left, this is not mine to give but is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.”
Mark 10:20-23
In our Gospel, Jesus makes it clear that the path to heavenly glory is bound by a spiritual discipline that, in this contrary world, will cause us suffering. The cup is that chasm in life where we must choose peace over violence, generosity over selfishness, mercy over judgment, truth over deception, love over indifference. There will be resistance, both within us and around us, when we make such choices.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Let’s be honest with ourselves as we answer Jesus’s question: “Can you drink the cup that I will drink?” Let’s pray for the grace to drink that cup as it comes to us in the particularities of our own lives. Let’s ask for the spiritual confidence and understanding that the cup – our cup – leads to eternal life.
Poetry: Can You Drink the Cup? – by Scott Surrency, O.F.M. Cap. (2015)
Can you drink the cup? Drink, not survey or analyze, ponder or scrutinize – from a distance. But drink – imbibe, ingest, take into you so that it becomes a piece of your inmost self. And not with cautious sips that barely moisten your lips, but with audacious drafts that spill down your chin and onto your chest. (Forget decorum – reserve would give offense.) Can you drink the cup? The cup of rejection and opposition, betrayal and regret. Like vinegar and gall, pungent and tart, making you wince and recoil. But not only that – for the cup is deceptively deep – there are hopes and joys in there, too, like thrilling champagne with bubbles that tickle your nose on New Year’s Eve, and fleeting moments of almost – almost – sheer ecstasy that last as long as an eye-blink, or a champagne bubble, but mysteriously satisfy and sustain. Can you drink the cup? Yes, you — with your insecurities, visible and invisible. You with the doubts that nibble around the edges and the ones that devour in one great big gulp. You with your impetuous starts and youth-like bursts of love and devotion. You with your giving up too soon – or too late – and being tyrannically hard on yourself. You with your Yes, but’s and I’m sorry’s – again. Yes, you – but with my grace. Can you drink the cup? Can I drink the cup? Yes.
Music: We Will Drink the Cup
We will drink the cup. We will win the fight. We will stand against the darkness of the night. We will run the race And see God’s face, And build the Kingdom of love.
Do not fear for I am with you. Be still and know that I am God.
You will run and not grow weary, For I your God will be your strength. Refrain
We are the Church, we are the Body. We are God’s great work of art.
If the wicked man turns away from all the sins he committed, if he keeps all my statutes and does what is right and just, he shall surely live, he shall not die….
…. And if the virtuous man turns from the path of virtue to do evil, the same kind of abominable things that the wicked man does, can he do this and still live? None of his virtuous deeds shall be remembered, because he has broken faith and committed sin; because of this, he shall die.
Exodus 18:21;24
Sometimes our life, with its many challenges and mysteries, can seem like an amusement ride spinning in the middle of the universe. We can be turned this way and that by forces such as our doubts, fears, disappointments, shocks, failures, unmet expectations, and the many figments of our imaginations. Oddly enough, these tumbling realities are the very places we meet God to Whom we desire to turn our lives no matter how our circumstances turn.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We might use this simple prayer to turn our hearts to God in every moment.
Dear God, in all things, I wish to turn my heart to You. Receive my desire and steady me in your Love.
Poetry: Thee, God, I come from, to Thee I go – Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844–1889)
Thee, God, I come from, to thee go, All day long I like fountain flow From thy hand out, swayed about Mote-like in thy mighty glow.
What I know of thee I bless, As acknowledging thy stress On my being and as seeing Something of thy holiness.
Once I turned from thee and hid, Bound on what thou hadst forbid; Sow the wind I would; I sinned: I repent of what I did.
Bad I am, but yet thy child. Father, be thou reconciled. Spare thou me, since I see With thy might that thou art mild.
I have life before me still And thy purpose to fulfil; Yea a debt to pay thee yet: Help me, sir, and so I will.
But thou bidst, and just thou art, Me shew mercy from my heart Towards my brother, every other Man my mate and counterpart.
Lavish Mercy 