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”
So be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and handed himself over for us as a sacrificial offering to God for a fragrant aroma. Ephesians 5:1-2
You are hungry. It is a cold, grey, and rainy day. You walk into your gently lit home needing rest and nourishment. Then, imagine the aroma of freshly baked bread, just lifted from the oven.
Jesus tells us that he is that Bread, given to feed the deep hungers of our soul, and the deep hungers of all Creation.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We pray for the graces we need to allow us a rich appreciation of Eucharist:
in our Church and its liturgies
in the world as we share life and ministry
in the reverence for all Creation which becomes complete by our completeness in Christ
Prose: from The Mass on the World – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Since once again, Lord — though this time not in the forests of the Aisne but in the steppes of Asia — I have neither bread, nor wine, nor altar, I will raise myself beyond these symbols, up to the pure majesty of the real itself; I, your priest, will make the whole earth my altar and on it will offer you all the labours and sufferings of the world.
Over there, on the horizon, the sun has just touched with light the outermost fringe of the eastern sky. Once again, beneath this moving sheet of fire, the living surface of the earth wakes and trembles, and once again begins its fearful travail. I will place on my paten, O God, the harvest to be won by this renewal of labour. Into my chalice I shall pour all the sap which is to be pressed out this day from the earth’s fruits.
My paten and my chalice are the depths of a soul laid widely open to all the forces which in a moment will rise up from every corner of the earth and converge upon the Spirit. Grant me the remembrance and the mystic presence of all those whom the light is now awakening to the new day.
Music: Fresh Bread – Chuck Girard
Fresh bread, cool water, come and receive it Fresh bread, cool water, come and receive it Cease from your labors, come now and dine Fresh bread, cool water, come get the oil and wine
In every life there comes a time to dance In every life there comes a time to be still Sometimes you’re given’ out until there’s nothin’ left Then there’s a time that comes to be refreshed and filled
Repeat chorus
Come get the oil of gladness, and the bread of life Come get the living water, be refreshed tonight Come get the fruit of joy, come on and dance in the dirt We’ll get the mud off your shoes and Have you back to the table in time for dessert
Repeat chorus
There’s a season of labor, then a day of rest There’s a time of trial, then you pass the test There’s a time when the wind blows, then a time of peace There’s a time when you have to fast, then a time, a time when you feast
CHORUS
Come get the living water Come get the bread of life Come get the oil of gladness Be refreshed tonight Cease from your labor, come now and dine Fresh bread, cool water, come get the oil and wine
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.
In today’s readings, both Jeremiah and John the Baptist encounter persecution. Jeremiah is saved, but John is not. Maybe both of them had questions about how, when they were so dedicated to God, evil yet pursued them. Perhaps they felt they had run into a spiritual wall. Ever felt like that?
Our Responsorial Psalm captures the longing for an answer – an understanding of how and why God works in our lives.
Lord, in your great love, answer me.
Psalm 69:14
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: I think it’s safe to say that we all have questions about life and death, good and evil, grace and darkness, worldly success and spiritual peace, God’s Presence and God’s apparent absence.
Poetry: The Answer – Carl Sandberg
You have spoken the answer. A child searches far sometimes Into the red dust On a dark rose leaf And so you have gone far For the answer is: Silence.
In the republic Of the winking stars and spent cataclysms Sure we are it is off there the answer is hidden and folded over, Sleeping in the sun, careless whether it is Sunday or any other day of the week,
Knowing silence will bring all one way or another.
Have we not seen Purple of the pansy out of the mulch and mold crawl into a dusk of velvet? blur of yellow? Almost we thought from nowhere but it was the silence, the future, working.
Music: Popule Meus – Motet by Tomás Luis de Victoria (1548-1611)
Ecce lignum crucis: In quo salus mundi pependit, Venite, adoremus.
Popule meus, quid feci tibi? Aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi.
Quia eduxi te de terra Aegypti, Parasti Crucem Salvatori tuo.
Hagios o Theos. Sanctus Deus. Hagios Ischyros. Sanctus Fortis. Hagios Athanatos, eleison himas. Sanctus Immortalis, miserere nobis.
Quia eduxi te per desertum Quadraginta annis, Et manna cibavi te, Et introduxi te in terram satis bonam, Parasti Crucem Salvatori tuo.
Hagios o Theos. Sanctus Deus. Hagios Ischyros. Sanctus Fortis. Hagios Athanatos, eleison himas. Sanctus Immortalis, miserere nobis.
Ego propter te flagellavi Aegyptum Cum primogenitis suis: Et tu me flagellatum tradidisti.
Popule meus, quid feci tibi? Aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi.
Ego te eduxi de Aegypto, Demerso Pharone in mare Rubrum, Et tu me tradidisti Principibus sacerdotum.
Popule meus, quid feci tibi? Aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi.
Ego ante te aperui mare, Et tu aperuisti lancea latus meum.
Popule meus, quid feci tibi? Aut in quo contristavi te? Responde mihi.
Behold the wood of the cross: On which hung the salvation of the world, Come, let us adore.
O my people, what have I done to you? Or wherein have I grieved you? Answer me.
Because I led you out of the land of Egypt: You have prepared a Cross for your Saviour.
O Holy God. O Holy God. O Holy Strong One. O Holy Strong One. O Holy and Immortal, have mercy upon us. O Holy and Immortal, have mercy upon us.
Because I led you through the desert, For forty years, And fed you with manna, And brought you into a land exceeding good, You have prepared a Cross for your Savior.
O Holy God. O Holy God. O Holy Strong One. O Holy Strong One. O Holy and Immortal, have mercy upon us. O Holy and Immortal, have mercy upon us.
For you I scourged Egypt, And its firstborn, And you have delivered me to be scourged.
O my people, what have I done to you? Or wherein have I grieved you? Answer me.
I brought you out of Egypt, And sank Pharaoh in the Red Sea, And you bave delivered Me To the chief priests.
O my people, what have I done to you? Or wherein have I grieved you? Answer me.
I opened the sea before you, And you have opened my side with a spear.
O my people, what have I done to you? Or wherein have I grieved you? Answer me.
Many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother [Lazarus, who had died]. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” John 11:19-22
Jesus needed and had friends, just like we do. Martha, Mary, and Lazarus were that kind of close friends. Jesus could hang out at their house, be comfortable at their table. They loved when he visited, bustling about to tidy the house and make him a special meal. They could sit with him for the afternoon in the comfortable silence between close friends. And could expect him to share their joys and sorrows.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Jesus wants to be that kind of friend with us – sharing presence, refreshment, a quiet comfort, a lively conversation. He wants to share our ups and downs and in-betweens.He wants us to love him as he loves us.
Poetry: Malcolm Guite – The Anointing at Bethany
Come close with Mary, Martha, Lazarus so close the candles stir with their soft breath and kindle heart and soul to flame within us, lit by these mysteries of life and death. For beauty now begins the final movement in quietness and intimate encounter. The alabaster jar of precious ointment is broken open for the world’s true Lover. The whole room richly fills to feast the senses with all the yearning such a fragrance brings. The heart is mourning but the spirit dances, here at the very center of all things, here at the meeting place of love and loss, we all foresee, and see beyond the cross.
Music: Pour My Love on You by Craig and Dean Phillips
Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were reclining, and also as much of the fish as they wanted. When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples, “Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted.” So they collected them, and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat. John 6:10-13
Today’s readings are about being fed – not only in a physical sense, but also in a spiritual sense. Jesus’s miracle with the loaves and fishes fed a lot of hungry people, but it more importantly opened their eyes to his power to redeem them. It gave them hope, the spiritual food for which we all hunger.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We realize that the same Lavish Mercy which fed those on the ancient hillside feeds and transforms us throughout our lives. As Paul indicates in the second reading, it makes us one in the infinite abundance of God’s grace and call.
May we therefore “live in a manner worthy of the call we have received.”
Poetry: When a Little Was Enough – Irene Zimmerman, OSF
“Send the people away from this deserted place to find food and lodgings,” the twelve urged Jesus, “for the day is advanced and it is almost evening.”
Jesus looked at the crowd (there were about five thousand) and looked at his disciples, still excited and tired from their first mission journey.
What had they learned from the villagers of Galilee who shared bread and sheltered them from cold night winds? What had they learned of human coldness on the way?
He remembered the pain in his mother’s voice as she told of his birth night when they found no room in all of Bethlehem, House of Bread.
“You give them something to eat!” he said.
“We have only five loaves and two fish!” they protested. “How can we feed so many with so little?” He understood their incredulity.
They had yet to learn that a little was enough when it was all they had— that God could turn these very stones to bread.
“Have the crowd sit down in groups of fifty,” he said. Jesus took the food and looked up to heaven. He blessed it, broke it, gave it to the disciples to distribute to the new-formed churches.
Afterwards, when everyone was satisfied, the twelve filled twelve baskets of bread left over— as faith stirred like yeast within them.
Music: I Am – by Finding Favor
While you were sleeping While the whole world was dreaming I never left your side And I can promise I won’t be leaving
I watch you breathing And I hear you singing I feel your heart beat and I know every pain That you’re feeling
And I am the comfort when you are afraid I am the refuge when you call my name I was, I’ll be, I am
I know you’re broken You’re busted wide open You’ve fallen to pieces and you feel there’s nothing left You can hope in
But I’ll hold you together We’ll stand the weather Cause I paid the price for you And I won’t let you go, no never
And I am the comfort when you are afraid I am the refuge when you call my name I was, I’ll be, I am
And I am the future, and I am the past I am the first and I am the last I was, I’ll be, I am
I am the Father, I am the Son I am the Spirit, I am the One I was, I’ll be, I am
And I wore the thorns and I took the nails I am love, and love never fails I was, I’ll be, I am I am, I am, I am
The Bride says: On my bed at night I sought him whom my heart loves– I sought him but I did not find him. I will rise then and go about the city; in the streets and crossings I will seek Him whom my heart loves. I sought him but I did not find him. The watchmen came upon me, as they made their rounds of the city: Have you seen him whom my heart loves? I had hardly left them when I found him whom my heart loves. Song of Songs 3:1-48
This exquisite poem from the Song of Songs captures the spirit of Mary Magdalen who, throughout her life, sought a deep and transformative relationship with God.
When she anointed his feet, when she relentlessly sought him at the tomb, Mary longed for the Presence of Jesus. When she found Him whom she had sought, this premier Apostle of the Resurrection preached the first Easter news to her companions.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We honor Mary Magdalen, so long mischaracterized in Church history. We ask to be inspired by her deep love of Jesus and resolute desire to be united with him.
Poetry: The Magdalen, a Garden, and This – Kathleen O’Toole
She who is known by myth and association as sinful, penitent, voluptuous perhaps… but faithful to the last and then beyond.
A disciple for sure, confused often with Mary, sister of Lazarus, or the woman caught in adultery, or she who angered the men
by anointing Jesus with expensive oils. She was the one from whom he cast out seven demons-she’s named in that account.
Strip all else away and we know only that she was grateful, that she found her way to the cross, and that she returned
to the tomb, to the garden nearby, and there, weeping at her loss, was recognized, became known in the tender invocation
of her name. Mary: breathed by one whom she mistook for the gardener, he who in an instant brought her back to herself-
gave her in two syllables a life beloved, gave me the only sure thing I’ll believe of heaven, that if it be, it will consist
in this: the one unmistakable rendering of your name.
Music: I Know That My Redeemer Liveth – G. F. Handel
Today’s Alleluia Verse encapsulates the theme of all the readings:
My sheep hear my voice, says the Lord; I know them, and they follow me.
John 10:27
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We LISTEN – one of the hardest things to do in life. Really listen – to what we hear with our ears, but more importantly, what we hear with our hearts. God is always speaking to us. May we listen.
Poetry: You, Neighbor God – Ranier Maria Rilkë
You, neighbor god, if sometimes in the night I rouse you with loud knocking, I do so only because I seldom hear you breathe and know: you are alone. And should you need a drink, no one is there to reach it to you, groping in the dark. Always I hearken. Give but a small sign. I am quite near.
Between us there is but a narrow wall, and by sheer chance; for it would take merely a call from your lips or from mine to break it down, and that without a sound.
The wall is builded of your images.
They stand before you hiding you like names. And when the light within me blazes high that in my inmost soul I know you by, the radiance is squandered on their frames.
And then my senses, which too soon grow lame, exiled from you, must go their homeless ways.
Behold, my servant whom I have chosen, my beloved in whom I delight; I shall place my Spirit upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles. He will not contend or cry out, nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory. And in his name the Gentiles will hope. Matthew 12:18-21 (cited from Isaiah 42:1-4
This beautiful passage, that focuses on the gentleness of the Messiah, comforts our spirits. But it also calls us to imitate that gentleness with those most in need of it.
The example Jesus offers us is not popular in our often violent world. It is hard to live in its courageous imitation. But it matters that we do.
“The modern world’s feverish struggle for unbridled, often unlicensed, freedom is answered by the bound, enclosed helplessness and dependence of Christ— Christ in the womb, Christ in the Host, Christ in the tomb.”
― Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God
Poetry: A Bruised Reed Shall He Not Break – Christina Rossetti
I will accept thy will to do and be, Thy hatred and intolerance of sin, Thy will at least to love, that burns within And thirsteth after Me: So will I render fruitful, blessing still, The germs and small beginnings in thy heart, Because thy will cleaves to the better part.— Alas, I cannot will. Dost not thou will, poor soul? Yet I receive The inner unseen longings of the soul, I guide them turning towards Me; I control And charm hearts till they grieve: If thou desire, it yet shall come to pass, Though thou but wish indeed to choose My love; For I have power in earth and heaven above.— I cannot wish, alas! What, neither choose nor wish to choose? and yet I still must strive to win thee and constrain: For thee I hung upon the cross in pain, How then can I forget? If thou as yet dost neither love, nor hate, Nor choose, nor wish,—resign thyself, be still Till I infuse love, hatred, longing, will.— I do not deprecate.
Music: A Bruised Reed by Charlie and Jill LeBlanc
Beautiful images despite a somewhat monotonous melody.
Jesus began to reproach the towns where most of his mighty deeds had been done, since they had not repented. “Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would long ago have repented in sackcloth and ashes. Matthew 11:20-21
Chorazin and Bethsaida were privileged. They had been blessed to see God’s power miraculously displayed in Jesus. And yet they failed to believe! How can that be? Hard-heartedness? Stupidity?
I think that, more likely, it was fear – the woeful condition that holds us back from giving ourselves to the truth. What would be required of them if they believed? What changes would they have to make in their lives? How would their comfortable world be turned upside-down?
Repentance: that would be the fruit of faith in Jesus. Many of them just couldn’t face it.
Today in God’s Lavish Mercy:
How committed is my faith? How is the Truth of Jesus alive in my life? What repentance, large or small, do I need to offer God?
Poetry: Savior – Maya Angelou
Petulant priests, greedy centurions, and one million incensed gestures stand between your love and me.
Your agape sacrifice is reduced to colored glass, vapid penance, and the tedium of ritual.
Your footprints yet mark the crest of billowing seas but your joy fades upon the tablets of ordained prophets.
Visit us again, Savior. Your children, burdened with disbelief, blinded by a patina of wisdom, carom down this vale of fear. We cry for you although we have lost your name.
Lavish Mercy 