Today, in Mercy, we read from the Book of Baruch, a little book with a big punch. Baruch authored “scribal literature”, that which completed the message of another writer. Baruch was Jeremiah’s scribe, working to finish the edges of this most complex of the prophets.
Our reading today reflects this complexity. The Israelites have a history of intertwined faith and faithlessness. They also have current overwhelming sufferings. How does the prophet employ these two realities to impel hearts toward God?
Baruch characterizes God as angry and vengeful, punishing the people for their idolatry. It’s a model that works for Baruch’s time and purposes. But it’s not the God I know and love. So how can the passage speak to me?
The core of Baruch’s message is that things can be really bad sometimes in life, but that God is with us even in those times. Our turning to God in trust and patience will allow us to remain faithful and to deepen spiritually even in suffering. That fidelity brings joy and peace.
It’s hard to have that kind of faith. We want to manage our lives, and even manage God, in order to make sense of the chaos of life – to provide sensible, rectifiable reasons for suffering and evil.
We want to control demons like the early disciples did.
In our Gospel, these disciples return from their missionary trips all puffed up with their powers over evil. Jesus cautions them saying that’s not at all what it’s all about. Any miraculous power they have in a given moment is only a sign of a Greatness beyond them.
Instead, their names a written in Heaven by the long, unshakeable fidelity that comes with keeping their eyes on God; by giving themselves to the mysterious, sometimes hidden, presence of God in every reality; by allowing that Presence to transform them and their circumstances.
(Speaking of prophets, a beautiful poem, Advice to a Prophet, came across my email today thanks to Joe Riley at Panhala. The poem is fitting as we close this Season of Creation. I will include it in a second post in case you’d like to read it.)
Music:a little revival music today, New Name Written Down in Glory. Picture the disciples singing this after Jesus instructs them in today’s Gospel.
Today, in Mercy, we celebrate St. Thérèse, popularly venerated as The Little Flower. She propagated a spirituality that has become known as “The Little Way”.
Rev. John F. Russell, O.Carm. describes the Little Way like this: The Little Way is an image that tries to capture St. Thérèse’s understanding of being a disciple of Jesus Christ, of seeking holiness of life in the ordinary and the everyday.
Saint Therese based her “little way” on two fundamental convictions:
God shows love by mercy and forgiveness
She could not be perfect in following the Lord.
Both our readings today also talk about a “way”.
Zechariah has a vision of all nations following the way to a New Jerusalem.
Thus says the LORD of hosts: In those days ten men of every nationality, speaking different tongues, shall take hold, yes, take hold of every Jew by the edge of his garment and say, “Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.”
In our Gospel, Jesus begins his way on his final journey. He knows now that the way will be through suffering and death yet, He dared…
When the days for Jesus to be taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely set his face toward Jerusalem…
Grace makes a way in our lives too. As with Thérèse, the ancient Jews, and Jesus, our particular way will unfold before us through prayer and a listening heart. It is the way of love that leads away from selfishness to God and God-in-Others.
Rumi’s poem captures it:
The way of love is not a subtle argument.
The door there is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling, they’re given wings.
(In a later post today, I will share a poem by Amy Lowell which I feel could describe “the journey “ — Christ’s, mine, yours… and perhaps offer further food for prayer.)
Today, we pray for the courage and freedom to follow the Way, the Truth, and the Life.
Music: from the musical Godspell – By My Side
The song conveys the desire of Jesus’s disciples, all but Judas, to accompany him on his Way. They were not perfect – but they dared. As we consider our lives, have we dared? What “pebbles” have we willingly “put in our shoes” to follow Jesus?
Today, in Mercy,Zechariah channels God, with the most intense of human emotion.
The prophet wants Israel to have some understanding of God’s infinite love and hope for them, so he puts these words in God’s mouth:
I am intensely jealous for Zion, stirred to jealous wrath for her.
Like a spouse longing for a lost beloved, God longs for the restoration of Israel to the Divine embrace.
Wherever our relationship with God is frayed or broken, God is jealous for us too. If we can turn our hearts in repentance, prayer, and hope, we too will hear God’s longing for us.
In our Gospel, Jesus tries to refocus his disciples on that loving call. In a classic example of missing the obvious, they are distracted over who is the most important. Here is the Lord of all sitting beside them, and they are arguing about their personal status!
By pointing to a child in their midst, Jesus reminds his followers of the innocence and transparency we need in order to open ourselves to God.
Let’s pray for that openness today so that we can hear and rejoice in a promise such as Israel heard through Zechariah:
You shall be my people, and I will be your God, with faithfulness and justice.
Today, in Mercy, our readings will challenge us in ways we might rather not hear.
In our first reading, feisty Amos lambastes the Israelites for their sumptuous lifestyle which is indifferent to the plight of those who are poor. He calls them “complacent”, “at ease” in their prosperous, privileged existence, a condition that has numbed them to the harrowing inequities from which others suffer.
In our second reading, Paul gives a final, impassioned charge to his dear protégé Timothy. He tells him not just to avoid, but to flee such complacency and the greedy materialism which feeds it. He outlines the elements of a Christian life, enjoining Timothy to “pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness”.
Paul gives Timothy the key to true Christian life:
Keep the commandment without stain or reproach …
…. “the commandment” being to love God above all, and love neighbor as self.
Dives and Lazarus by Bonifazio di Pitati The National Gallery – London
Our Gospel is, perhaps painfully, familiar to all of us – the story of Lazarus and Dives. It is a parable which puts the economic divide under the crystalline light of the Gospel, challenging us as to where we fit in it.
Most of us like comfort. We would rather be “haves” than “have nots”. But we struggle within our comfortable lives to discern our responsibility for others. We’re certainly not intentionally hard-hearted, “lying on ivory couches” and “drinking wine from bowls” while modern day Lazarus languishes right beside us.
We do try, in many ways, to respond to the call for charity and service. But don’t we still measure ourselves after hearing this Gospel? Don’t we still worry about any “Lazarus” unnoticed at our door?
Amos, Paul, and Jesus are charging us – just as they charged their immediate listeners – to live a life based in Biblical and Gospel justice. Justice seeks fullness of life for all the community. Jesus teaches us that “the community” is all Creation, and that how we treat the community is how we treat him.
Every day we might remind ourselves that, however hard we try, it is never enough. We must keep on peeling away any indifference or blindness we have to the injustices of our culture and times, our economic and political systems. And we too must flee them, running toward justice, righteousness, and mercy.
We must ask ourselves this hard question:
Does my “wealth” – however large or small, material or immaterial- nourish the community or only consume it?
Music: Five Variants of Dives & Lazarus – Ralph Vaughn Williams’s beautiful interpretation of the folk song “Dives and Lazarus”.
If you might be interested in the original song – a great example of folk art: Sung here by Maddy Prior (Lyrics below)
as it fell out upon one day
rich Diverus he made a feast
and he invited all his friends
and gentry of the best
then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus’ door
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
do bestow upon the poor
thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my door
no meat, no drink I’ll give to thee
nor bestow upon the poor
then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus’ wall
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
or with hunger starve I shall
thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my wall
no meat, no drink I’ll give to thee
but with hunger starve you shall
then Lazarus laid him down and down
even down at Diverus’ gate
some meat, some drink, brother Diverus
for Jesus Christ His sake
thou art none of mine, brother Lazarus
that lies begging at my gate
no meat, no drink I’ll give to you
for Jesus Christ His sake
then Diverus sent out his serving men
to whip poor Lazarus away
they had no power to whip one whip
and they threw their whips away
then Diverus sent out his hungry dogs
to worry poor Lazarus away
but they had no power to bite one bite
and they licked his sores away
as it fell out upon one day
poor Lazarus sickened and died
there came two angels out of Heaven
his soul thereto to guide
rise up, rise up brother Lazarus
come along with me
there’s a place for you in Heaven
sitting on an angel’s knee
as it fell out all on one day
Diverus sickened and died
there came two serpents out of Hell
his soul thereto to guide
rise up, rise up brother Diverus
come along with me
there is a place for you in Hell
sitting on a serpent’s knee
Diverus lifted up his eyes and he saw poor Lazarus blessed
a drop of water brother Lazarus
for to quench my flaming thirst
if I had as many years to live as there are blades of grass
I would make it in my will secure
that the Devil should have no power
Hell is dark, Hell is deep Hell is full of mice
it’s a pity that any poor sinful soul should be barred from our saviour Christ
Today, in Mercy, we begin a few weeks of readings from the minor prophets – Zechariah being today’s writer.We also continue with Luke’s Gospel which will take us through to the season of Advent.
The combination of readings today brought to my mind a treasured and bittersweet quote from our beloved founder:
Zechariah writes for a community with a foot in both worlds – joys and sorrows. They are freed from captivity but burdened with its harsh memory. They have committed in hope to the rebuilding of the temple, but they are filled with doubts about their ability to deliver. They have a plan for their restoration, but realize that God’s plan is beyond their imagination. They see a protected, walled-in future. God sees a “Jerusalem” without walls, circled only by the fire of God’s love.
Zechariah tells them to let go and fall into God’s Imagination, no matter how scary that might be for them:
People will live in Jerusalem as though in open country, because of the multitude of men and beasts in her midst. But I will be for her an encircling wall of fire, says the LORD, and I will be the glory in her midst.
In our Gospel, Jesus has begun to gently hint that the disciples’ future may not be as they would like to imagine. At this point in the Gospel story, joys are running pretty high- lots of miracles, crowds growing, the awesomeness of the Transfiguration still lighting up their dreams.
But Jesus drops a little reality, a little sorrow into the mix:
Pay attention to what I am telling you. The Son of Man is to be handed over to men.
The disciples don’t fully comprehend the warning. It is too much for them to take. We understand, don’t we? Is there anything harder to swallow than sorrow, loss, the crash of a bright dream?
Remembering Zechariah ‘s words may strengthen us when the mix of sorrow seems too much for us:
But I will be for her an encircling wall of fire, says the LORD, and I will be the glory in her midst. … Sing and rejoice, O daughter Zion! See, I am coming to dwell among you, says the LORD.
Music: Where Joy and Sorrow Meet – Ultimate Tracks
Today, in Mercy, Ezra carries on his shoulders the whole repentant nation of Israel. He is bent in “shame and humiliation” for them as he begins his prayer for God’s mercy.
It is a highly dramatic prayer, ripping out from Ezra’s soul. He not only wants to get God’s attention. Ezra wants to make an indelible impression on the community he prays for.
Picture the scene as you wish. What comes to my imagination, (although somewhat sacrilegious) is something like a James Brown brand of intensity:
God doesn’t shout back an answer to Ezra’s expressive prayer. Instead, we get the sense of God’s still, eternal Presence waiting for Israel’s eyes to clear in recognition, like finally seeing the mountain peak through the mist:
And now, but a short time ago,
mercy came to us from the LORD, our God, who left us a remnant
and gave us a stake in his holy place; thus our God has brightened our eyes and given us relief in our servitude.
“ …God has given us a stake in his holy place”….
That place is ever-present,
ever-available Mercy
– always awaiting us
if we can clear our hearts to see it.
Once we do see the faithfulness of God, we are ready to chance the journey Jesus invites us to in today’s Gospel:
Take nothing for the journey ….
set out and go from village to village proclaiming the good news
and restoring wholeness everywhere.
Music: Great Is Thy Faithfulness – written by Thomas O. Chisholm.
Sung here by AustinStoneWorship – Jaleesa McCreary (Note the sweet smile on her beautiful face just before she begins to sing. Grace!)
Today, in Mercy, our readings make one thing very clear: we cannot serve both God and “mammon”.
The problem is that we have a hard time figuring out what mammon is. Experience tells us that it’s a lot more than just money, because there are people with money who do a good job serving God.
It seems to me that “mammon” is more the illusion that we are only our money … our possessions, and that we – or anybody else- is nothing without them.
This misperception is so fundamental to our inability to live the Gospel that it cripples our souls. The love of “mammon” becomes an overwhelming, incurable addiction that feeds on the well-being of our neighbor.
As our first reading tells us, living by this addiction invokes God’s eternal anger:
The LORD has sworn by the pride of Jacob: Never will I forget a thing they have done!
Our Gospel tells us that we can’t have it both ways. We either live within the generosity and inclusivity of God, or we’re outside it:
No servant can serve two masters. He will either hate one and love the other, or be devoted to one and despise the other.
This is a challenging but fundamental teaching of the Gospel. It is essential that we consider how we live it.
Walter Bruggemann, in his book Money and Possessions says this:
Jesus said it … succinctly. You cannot serve God and mammon. You cannot serve God and do what you please with your money or your sex or your land. And then he says, “Don’t be anxious, because everything you need will be given to you.” But you must decide. Christians have a long history of trying to squeeze Jesus out of public life and reduce him to a private little Savior. But to do this is to ignore what the Bible really says. Jesus talks a great deal about the kingdom of God—and what he means by that is a public life reorganized toward neighborliness. . . .
Let’s have the courage to pray with that thought today.
Music: a simple mantra, but powerful if we can live it: Love God, Love Neighbor by Dale Sechrest
Today, in Mercy, we celebrate the feast of St. Matthew. The Gospel chosen for the day is Matthew’s own account of his call and the subsequent event lodged in his memory – the first meal he shared with Jesus.
The Meal in the House of Matthew by James Tissot from the Brooklyn Museum
Apparently Matthew’s house was a do-drop-in kind of house. Matthew’s friends easily gathered at the meal. Even the Pharisees got a view of his table.
I doubt that Matthew did the cooking. Perhaps his wife or mother, though never mentioned, were the true authors of his hospitality. She may have been that type of cook who lifts the sweet and savory scent of spices into the air, capturing in their welcome all who pass by.
Jesus settles in to that welcome as do his table companions – disciples, tax collectors and sinners. They seem comfortable in their shared humanity. But today, with Jesus, they are invited to the perfection of that humanity in his abundant grace. They too receive a call this day.
We know only how some of these guests responded to this amazing invitation in their lives.
Matthew became an apostle and a saint.
The Pharisees retreated to their self-protective criticisms and condemnations.
How the others embraced or rejected this graceful moment is left unspoken.
With every Eucharistic moment of our lives, Jesus invites us to humanity’s table – a table transformed by his becoming one of us. His presence changes us all from sinners, tax collectors, or however else we are categorized. With Jesus, we are simply God’s children, fed and replenished by mercy, changed by a sacred invitation.
May we be aware of our “eucharists ” today, every encounter with another human being. The table may or may not be visible in the everyday circumstances around which we gather. Jesus will not be visible either – unless we have the eyes to see him in ourselves and those with whom we share life.
Today’s readings carry a common theme of resources, both material and spiritual, and how we use them.
Paul tells Timothy:
we brought nothing into the world, just as we shall not be able to take anything out of it.
Still…
the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it
have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains.
Our Psalm tells us that those who are poor in spirit realize that they possess nothing, that all they have is a gift from God. This realization is the source of their blessing.
Luke’s Gospel lists several women who supported Jesus’s ministry out of their resources. They, and no doubt the men depending them, had been touched and changed by Jesus.
Each of our readings reminds us that deepened relationship with God releases in us those God given gifts of our Creation – the gifts of which Paul reminds Timothy:
But you, beloved of God, … pursue righteousness, devotion, faith, love, patience, and gentleness. Compete well for the faith. Lay hold of eternal life, to which you were called when you made the noble profession of faith in the presence of many witnesses.
By the inspiration of the Korean Martyrs, may we hear and respond.
Music: a real foot tapper today – Hear the Call of the Kingdom – Kristyn Getty
Today, in Mercy, I would like to share a piece from a book I am (slowly….) writing:
The scene is heavy with color, sounds, scents and movement. The summer sun has begun its long descent through the western sky, filling the garden with orange light and umber shadows. Simon and his household make final preparations for the arrival of Jesus. The dining area is meticulously set in the arbored courtyard, the klinai or dining couches angled so that Simon may have the full consideration of Jesus once the supper begins. The scent of roasting lamb drifts from a nearby spit, incensing the entire space with heightened appetite. Slowly, the scene fills with the ancient Gospel characters, each carrying his or her own hungers to the table.
What is it that Simon the Pharisee most craves from this momentous opportunity to capture Jesus’ attention? He is a man of intellect who rationalizes that Jesus should respond in a certain way to the approaches of a sinful woman. Would his hunger have been satisfied had Jesus met this prediction? Or was a deeper hunger challenged when Jesus defied Simon’s expectation, inviting him to a fresh relationship with his own heart?
What spectrum of hungers comes with the many guests at this dinner? Are the disciples longing for Jesus to successfully argue his theology with this prominent Pharisee? Are the other guests hoping to have their allegiances – whatever they may be – proven by the evening’s conversation? And Jesus himself, what hunger does he carry to the diverse gathering of his Father’s children? What yet unmet hopes for his ministry might he long to feed on this special evening?
But there is one among the many whose hunger is obvious. At first unnoticed by the party, she slips in through the open hedge, advancing toward Jesus with a natural grace even the greatest wealth cannot bestow. Her lustrous hair falls freely down her long, slender back. She is bejeweled and bangled with the ornaments of her trade. Her face, though beautiful, reflects the weight of her desperate loneliness and forced self-sufficiency.
She is a woman no longer with pretense. The entire town already has cast her in a mold she will never escape. She has come as she is to the feet of Jesus, presenting her unadorned hope in an alabaster jar.
As we begin our prayer today, what hungers do we take to the feet of Jesus? Let us lift the alabaster jar. Let us decant the ointment of our prayer. Let us anoint our lives.
Lavish Mercy 