Today, in Mercy, our readings could be so reassuring about the power of our prayer, except …..
How often have you prayed for something that you didn’t get?
In our reading from the Book of Esther, Esther certainly puts everything she has into her prayer for deliverance:
Queen Esther – By Jean-François Portaels
She lay prostrate upon the ground, together with her handmaids, from morning until evening, and said: “God of Abraham, God of Isaac, and God of Jacob, blessed are you. Help me, who am alone and have no help but you, for I am taking my life in my hand.
The passage, in isolation from the rest of the Book, might lead us to conclude that Esther’s prayer is simply about her asking for, and receiving, what she wants from God. It’s about much more.
Esther, like Christ, is in a position to save her people. She must risk her life to do so. She is praying for the courage to do God’s will, to look past her own comfort and become an agent of grace in her circumstances.
Now that’s some kind of prayer!
Prayer can be like looking in a mirror. All we see reflected back is our own need and desire. We don’t pray honestly and openly enough to let God open a door in the mirror – a door into God’s own will and hope for us.
That’s the door Jesus is talking about in today’s Gospel.
What we ASK is not just for something we want, but rather to know God’s heart.
What we SEEK is not our own satisfaction, but the grace to embrace God’s mysterious energy in our lives no matter how it comes to us.
What we KNOCK for and desire to be opened to us is deeper love and fuller relationship with our loving God.
Sometimes, the problem with prayer is that we think it’s like asking our rich uncle for a permanent loan. It’s only when we comprehend that prayer is a relationship that the RECEIVE, FIND, and OPENED parts become real for us.
I walk the earth, soft from yesterday’s long rain. Mists ascend like incense under my indulgent footfalls. Birdsongs thin themselves between the early light; chanting, contrapuntal, in the well-laved trees.
Nothing grey is left now in the wide sky. Rinsed in light it spreads to dry in sere, blue wind.
Momentarily, earth is wholly God’s; deep, true colors fall to it, rich, unshadowed. Your Word, Creator, WaterGod, has penetrated. It returns to You in crystal images from a finally uncomplicated world.
As if within a lucent globe I hold You still, in perfect, silent love, clear, inexplicable like sunlit rain.
Music: two offerings today. One is old-time revival. The other is classic beauty. Enjoy.
Prayer Is the Key to Heaven – Alan Brewster
Music: Overture from Esther – George Frideric Handel
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, one line from our readings hit me like a lightening bolt:
The word of the LORD came to Jonah a second time.
Jonah 3:1
Yes, it’s the truth! God will keep coming back again and again to encourage us to hear the true message for our lives.
Our Gospel gives us a hint about how resistant we sometimes are to do this deep listening:
This generation is an evil generation; it seeks a sign, but no sign will be given it, except the sign of Jonah.
Luke 11:29
What is the sign of Jonah anyway?
To put it simply, it is the witness of the Resurrection – that overarching event that changed everything for believers. For just as Jonah was able to return from certain death in the whale’s belly, so Christ conquered death and rose to new life, promising us the same power.
This is the central, life-changing belief for Christians. It should make a difference in how we live.
By our Lenten repentance, we can be like Jonah, grasping the second chance God always gives us to respond to our life circumstances with faith, hope, and love.
I would bet there is something in your life right now that is calling you to such a response. Someplace in your life, you may be caught in a bit of a “whale’s belly 🐳” about some issue, am I right?
God makes us ask ourselves questions most often when He intends to resolve them. He gives us needs that He alone can satisfy, and awakens capacities that He means to fulfill. Any perplexity is liable to be a spiritual gestation, leading to a new birth and a mystical regeneration.
Thomas Merton, The Sign of Jonas
Today’s readings remind us that we already have the glorious sign of the Resurrection to inspire us to leap from that dark “belly” into God’s hope for us!
Poetry: WE ARE JONAH – Rabbi Rachel Barenblat
In Rabbi Eliezer’s vision Jonah entered the whale’s mouth as we enter a synagogue. Light streamed in through its eyes. Jonah approached the bimah, the whale’s head. Show me wonders, he said, as though his own life weren’t a miracle.
The whale obliged, swimming down to the foundation stone, the navel of creation fixed deep beneath the land. Tsk tsk, chided the fish: you’re beneath God’s temple — you should pray.
Prayer requires stillness. Running away had always been so easy. Sitting silent in self-judgement — forget it! But waves only churn the surface. In the deep beneath the deep Jonah was wholly present.
We all flee from uncomfortable conversations the drip of a hospital IV the truths we don’t want to own the work we don’t want to do. Now we’re in the belly of the whale, someplace deep and strange.
God calls us to awareness: to stand our ground in the place where we are, to do the work which needs doing. To bring kindness and mercy even to those who are unlike us. Are we listening?
Music: a fun song “In the Belly of Whale” – The Newsboys
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our reading from Romans tells us:
The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.
How is the Word of God near us, with us?
Certainly, our sincere study and prayer with scripture is one way. Sitting quietly with scriptural passages, letting them speak to us, and inviting them to inform our lives is a life-giving discipline.
Sometimes, we might choose just one word or phrase from a beloved reading, turning it over and over, gently in our prayer. How has this precious word informed our lives, inspired us, called us, comforted us? How is it speaking to us in this moment?
As we move more deeply into the “words” of scripture, we move closer to theWord – the Incarnate God. John writes:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.
John 1:1
Today in our prayer, we might recommit ourselves to a deepening love of scripture, of the Word given to us there.
In his book, “The Bible Makes Sense”, Walter Bruggemann says this:
The Bible is not an “object” for us to study but a partner with whom we may dialogue. It is usual in our modern world to regard any “thing” as an object that will yield its secrets to us if we are diligent and discerning. And certainly this is true of a book that is finished, printed, bound, and that we can buy, sell, shelve, and carry in a briefcase or place on a coffee table…[But] reading the Bible requires that we abandon the subject-object way of perceiving things… [If we do,] the text will continue to contain surprises for us, and conversely we discover that not only do we interpret the text but we in turn are interpreted by the text… We may analyze, but we must also listen and expect to be addressed.
Poetry: God – by Khalil Gibran
In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips, I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, 'Master, I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee for ever more.'
But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all.'
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke unto God again, saying, 'Father, I am thy son. In pity and love thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall inherit thy kingdom.'
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again spoke unto God, saying, 'My God, my aim and my fulfilment; I am thy yesterday and thou art my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun.'
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness, and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains, God was there also.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah continues his advice begun in yesterday’s reading. When he finishes the list of things we should and should not do, Isaiah tells us how God will respond:
Then light shall rise for you in the darkness, and the gloom shall become for you like midday; Then the LORD will guide you always and give you plenty even on the parched land. God will renew your strength, and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring whose water never fails. The ancient ruins shall be rebuilt for your sake, and the foundations from ages past you shall raise up ~
Isaiah 58: 8-12
Oh, who can resist these glorious Isaiahan lines. It’s a beautiful picture, isn’t it? To imagine it offers us great encouragement as we limp out of winter toward a spring horizon.
Each of our readings today carries a sense of shaking off old and lifeless ways to stretch toward a new promise.
The psalmist asks for God’s help in that stretching.
Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth.
Psalm 86:11
As I thought about “stretching” in prayer this morning, an image came to me of an experience some of you might share. After my knee replacement, I had to learn to streeeeetch my old ligaments around the new implant. It wasn’t exactly “hell” to do so, but it was at least the edge of purgatory! My perseverance paid off though when I began to walk freely and painlessly.
Stretching into the depths of God also takes a full measure of willpower and HOPE. We can hear these pleas in the rest of Psalm 86:
Incline your ear, O LORD; answer me, for I am afflicted and poor. Keep my life, for I am devoted to you; save your servant who trusts in you. You are my God.
Have mercy on me, O Lord, for to you I call all the day. Gladden the soul of your servant, for to you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
They say that rehabbing from knee replacement surgery is a lot easier if you have exercised and kept in fair shape beforehand. In our Gospel, dear Matthew does a total , full-hearted stretch — one that he must have been preparing for all his life. Otherwise, how could he have been so immediately responsive to Christ’s unexpected invitation?
Jesus saw a tax collector named Levi sitting at the customs post. He said to him, “Follow me.” And leaving everything behind, he got up and followed him.
Luke 5:27
Visualizing this scene, we can almost see Matthew not only get up — but his spirit actually jump up at the amazing invitation of God!
Lent is a time for us to do some jumping into grace — so many invitations come to us in this season’s beautiful scriptures and rituals. So many inspirations to grow come to us in our changing seasons! Let’s not be so distracted by our daily un-importances that we miss the call to streeeetch!
Poetry: St. Matthew by John Keble – this is a section of the poem which reflects on today’s Gospel passage.Matthew is the “meek publican” of the second stanza below. Amid all the clamor of the world around him, Keble’s Matthew has a clear eye and heart for Christ. John Keble, (1792 – 1866) was an English churchman and poet, one of the leaders of the Oxford Movement. Keble College, Oxford, was named after him.
There are in this loud stunning tide Of human care and crime, With whom the melodies abide Of th' everlasting chime; Who carry music in their heart Through dusky lane and wrangling mart, Plying their daily task with busier feet, Because their secret souls a holy strain repeat.
How sweet to them, in such brief rest As thronging cares afford, In thought to wander, fancy-blest, To where their gracious Lord, In vain, to win proud Pharisees, Spake, and was heard by fell disease- But not in vain, beside yon breezy lake, Bade the meek Publican his gainful seat forsake:
At once he rose, and left his gold; His treasure and his heart Transferred, where he shall safe behold Earth and her idols part; While he beside his endless store Shall sit, and floods unceasing pour Of Christ's true riches o'er all time and space, First angel of His Church, first steward of His Grace.
Nor can ye not delight to think Where He vouchsafed to eat, How the Most Holy did not shrink From touch of sinner's meat; What worldly hearts and hearts impure Went with Him through the rich man's door, That we might learn of Him lost souls to love, And view His least and worst with hope to meet above.
These gracious lines shed Gospel light On Mammon's gloomiest cells, As on some city's cheerless night The tide of sunrise swells, Till tower, and dome, and bridge-way proud Are mantled with a golden cloud, And to wise hearts this certain hope us given; “No mist that man may raise, shall hide the eye of Heaven.”
And oh! if e'en on Babel shine Such gleams of Paradise, Should not their peace be peace divine, Who day by day arise To look on clearer heavens, and scan The work of God untouch'd by man? Shame on us, who about us Babel bear, And live in Paradise, as if God was not there!
Music: Stretch Out – Gospel/Soul song by the Institutional Radio Choir
The Institutional Radio Choir was a gospel choir that recorded between 1962-2003. The choir began in 1954 at the Institutional COGIC in Brooklyn, NY, under Bishop Carl E Williams Sr. After recording an album entitled: “Well Done,” the choir backed up Shirley Caesar on her two albums, I’ll Go and My Testimony. Caesar allotted the choir’s director two songs on the album, one of which was entitled (When Trouble Comes) Stretch Out. The song went on to become a gospel standard, especially in Pentecostal circles. The choir went on to record over 20 albums, most of which charted in the Top 10 on the Gospel Billboard charts.
When troubles come and storms begin to rise Hold on and learn to stretch out Oh keep on fasting, keep on praying Hold on and learn to stretch out
When Satan get on your track And tries to turn me back I won’t worry, i won’t fret. i just stretch out Stretch out, oh stretch out
When days are dark and cloudy are my skies I hold on and learn to stretch out Oh keep on fasting, keep on believing Hold on and learn to stretch out
Cause the race isn’t given to the swift Neither is it given to the strong But to him that endureth to the end Stretch out, oh stretch out
When troubles come and storms begin to rise Hold on and learn to stretch out Oh keep on fasting keep on believing Hold on and learn to stretch out
Cause the race isn’t given to the swift Neither is it given to the strong But to him that endureth to the end Stretch out, oh stretch out
When i am lost, when i am sad Jesus is there, he’ll make me glad The Lord won’t deceive you The Lord he won’t leave you
Stretch out
Stretch out Stretch out Stretch out on his word
Stretch out Stretch out Stretch out Oh, stretch out
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Isaiah cuts his listeners no slack — and, remember, we too are his listeners.
In this powerful passage, the prophet shatters the pretenses of those who make a show of religion. Speaking with God’s voice, Isaiah lambastes those who fast and pray but practice no works of justice and mercy.
Lo, on your fast day you carry out your own pursuits, and drive all your laborers. Yes, your fast ends in quarreling and fighting, striking with wicked claw.
These “fake fasters” are left wondering why God doesn’t answer their prayers. The prophet tells them that God isn’t fooled by their pretenses:
Is this the manner of fasting I wish, of keeping a day of penance: That a man bow his head like a reed and lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Isaiah says that God’s not into sackcloth and ashes. God’s into good works of mercy and justice. These are the actions that change our hearts, opening us to deeper relationship with God.
This, rather, is the fasting that I wish: releasing those bound unjustly, untying the thongs of the yoke; Setting free the oppressed, breaking every yoke; Sharing your bread with the hungry, sheltering the oppressed and the homeless; Clothing the naked when you see them, and not turning your back on your own.
Listen, dear friends. It can’t be clearer than that.
In a world full of “prosperity gospels”, false piety and pretend religion – used to justify all kinds of injustice – we may get mixed up sometimes about what pleases God.
Let’s really open our hearts to Isaiah’s message and try to rid our own lives of any pretense about these things.
Let’s confront such hypocrisy when we see it used to subtly oppress rather than to lift up others.
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your wound shall quickly be healed.
Perhaps we might spend sometime today thinking about that “wound” we need healed. Might there be some harbored prejudice, indifference, fear, or ignorance that distances us from others who are different, vulnerable, or in need?
Isaiah cautions that until that wound is healed, we will never hear God’s true answer to our prayers.
Poetry: from Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore
Then said a rich man, “Speak to us of Giving”.
And he answered: “You give but little when you give of your possessions. It is when you give of yourself that you truly give. For what are your possessions but things you keep and guard for fear you may need them tomorrow? And tomorrow, what shall tomorrow bring to the overprudent dog burying bones in the trackless sand as he follows the pilgrims to the holy city?
And what is fear of need but need itself? Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?
There are those who give little of the much which they have
and they give it for recognition and their hidden desire makes their gifts unwholesome. And there are those who have little and give it all. These are the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is never empty.
There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is their baptism. And there are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue; They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space. Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.
It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding; And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.
And is there aught you would withhold? All you have shall some day be given; Therefore give now, that the season of giving may be yours and not your inheritors’.
You often say, “I would give, but only to the deserving.” The trees in your orchard say not so, nor the flocks in your pasture. They give that they may live, for to withhold is to perish.
Surely he who is worthy to receive his days and his nights is worthy of all else from you. And he who has deserved to drink from the ocean of life deserves to fill his cup from your little stream. And what desert greater shall there be than that which lies in the courage and the confidence, nay the charity, of receiving?
And who are you that men should rend their bosom and unveil their pride, that you may see their worth naked and their pride unabashed? See first that you yourself deserve to be a giver, and an instrument of giving. For in truth it is life that gives unto life – while you, who deem yourself a giver, are but a witness.
And you receivers – and you are all receivers – assume no weight of gratitude, lest you lay a yoke upon yourself and upon him who gives. Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be overmindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity who has the free-hearted earth for mother, and God for father.
Music: Respond – Collin Campbell (Lyrics below)
Oh how long will you cry out And never truly seek my face You come to me with heavy hearts But you ignore what makes mine break
I see your thoughts, I hear your words And I have watched you as you’ve prayed I’ve told you my desires But you don’t follow all the way
Children, I’m crying out Break the chains Let the oppressed go free Empty yourselves to those in need Be my hands Be my feet What you do unto them You do unto Me
Every day you lift your voice And await my swift response But I see only what’s inside And it’s (what i see on the inside) an offering I don’t want
Children, I’m crying out Break the chains Let the oppressed go free Empty yourselves to those in need Be my hands Be my feet What you do unto them You do unto Me
Then your Salvation will come like the dawn And my glory will be your shield When you call on My name I will not turn away I am Your God And I am here And your light it will shine from the dark You will be like a free flowing stream And when you call on My name I will not turn away I am your God And I am here
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings confirm that a life patterned on Christ contradicts worldly definitions.
Deuteronomy gives us stark, either-or, advice:
I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live, by loving the LORD, your God, heeding his voice, and holding fast to him.
Deuteronomy 30: 15-16
It’s definitive advice, but we could probably do these things, right?
Choose life
Love God
Heed God’s voice
Hold fast to God
Sounds OK, doesn’t it?
It’s when Jesus comes along that it begins to sound difficult. Jesus tells us, “Here’s how you choose life:
“Whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”
Jesus tells us, “Here’s the God you must love, one who:
“suffers greatly, is rejected, and is killed.”
Jesus tells us, “Here’s what my voice says to you :
“What profit is there for you to gain the whole world yet lose or forfeit yourself?”
Jesus tells us, “Here’s how you hold fast to me:
‘Take up your cross daily and follow me.”
The deep love of the Holy Cross was the sacred gift of Catherine McAuley to her Mercy Family. Let us listen to her counsel.
Some have huge crosses to carry in their lives – war, famine, enslavement, untended illness, homelessness, persecution, poverty. Those who carry such crosses are singularly loved by God who dwells with them.
But if we don’t have big, obvious crosses in our lives – if we are among those the world deems fortunate – how do we follow the crucified Jesus to find our way to eternal life?
How do we really CHOOSE LIFE?
We need to get close to the ones God singularly loves. We need to walk beside them and lift some of their heavy crosses. We need to help their voices be heard, their needs be met, their rights be honored.
Not all of us can do this by direct service. But we can do it by our advocacy, our material contributions, and our articulated support for justice.
We need to make these choices for LIFE all the time. But Lent is a great time to examine the vigor and commitment of our choices, a time to take a closer walk with our suffering Christ and ask him to inspire our courage.
Poetry: Simon the Cyrenian Speaks – Countée Cullen, an American poet, novelist, children’s writer, and playwright, particularly well known during the Harlem Renaissance. I picked his poem today because Simon of Cyrene is someone who chose to carry the cross just as we are asked to do.
He never spoke a word to me, And yet He called my name; He never gave a sign to me, And yet I knew and came.
At first I said, “I will not bear His cross upon my back; He only seeks to place it there Because my skin is black.”
But He was dying for a dream, And He was very meek, And in His eyes there shone a gleam Men journey far to seek.
It was Himself my pity bought; I did for Christ alone What all of Rome could not have wrought With bruise of lash or stone.
Music: Just a Closer Walk with Thee – Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we resolve to turn our hearts more fully to God. The sacred journey of Lent, one we have traveled so often over the years, invites us each time to go deeper into the Well of Mercy.
Joel’s pregnant phrase summons us:
Think of the “even now” moments of your life, those times when, despite darkness and cold, you turned toward light and warmth. Think of a time when, in contradiction to all negativity, your soul proclaimed:
Even now I hope
Even now I believe
Even now I love
Even now I care
Even now I repent
Even now I forgive
Even now I begin again
The rise of an “Even Now” moment in our souls is like the hint of spring pushing its head through the winter snow.
It is the reddish-green thread suggesting life at the tip of the brown, cold-cracked branch.
It is the moment we believe that what we desire and love will turn toward us and embrace us.
Can you imagine God having such moments, longing for our attention, love, presence, catching a glimpse of our turning?
Our reading from Joel describes such a God.
Even now, says the LORD, return to me with your whole heart… These words suggest God’s longing for us, for our devotion and love.
But our holy intentions weaken and we often drift away from our “first fervors”. Our hearts attach to distractions from God. So God says:
Rend your hearts … and return to the LORD, your God. For I am gracious and merciful, slow to anger, rich in kindness … Come back to Me, with all your heart.
Joel 2: 13-14
This is what Lent is all about. Each of us knows where our hearts have wandered. Each of knows what we must turn from — even now — to return to God’s embrace.
If we can hear God’s longing in this haunting reading from Joel perhaps the true turning will begin. A blessed Lent, a holy listening, my friends.
Poetry: God’s Longing – from Rumi
All night, a man called out “God! God!” Until his lips were bleeding. Then the Adversary of mankind said, “Hey! Mr Gullible! … How come you’ve been calling all night And never once heard God say, “Here, I AM”? You call out so earnestly and, in reply, what? I’ll tell you what. Nothing!”
The man suddenly felt empty and abandoned. Depressed, he threw himself on the ground And fell into a deep sleep. In a dream, he met an angel, who asked, “Why are you regretting calling out to God?”
The man said, “ I called and called But God never replied, “Here I AM.”
The Angel explained, “God has said, “Your calling my name is My reply. Your longing for Me is My message to you. All your attempts to reach Me Are in reality My attempts to reach you. Your fear and love are a noose to catch Me. In the silence surrounding every call of “God” Waits a thousand replies of “Here I AM.”
Music: Come Back to Me – Gregory Norbet, sung by John Michael Talbot
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings prime us for the coming of Lent. Lent is all about the transformation of our hearts within of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus.
But before we are ready for such transformation, we must be totally aware of ourselves and open to God’s Presence in our lives.
Our readings call us to a deep look at our spiritual integrity as it is revealed in our words and actions. The image of a good tree, bearing fruit, suffuses all our scriptures today.
What about the integrity of our words:
The fruit of a tree shows the care it has had; so too does one’s speech disclose the bent of one’s mind. Praise no one before he speaks, for it is then that people are tested.
Sirach 27:6-7
What about the integrity of our faith:
The just one shall flourish like the palm tree, like a cedar of Lebanon shall he grow. They that are planted in the house of the LORD shall flourish in the courts of our God.
Psalm 92: 13-14
What about the perseverance of our faithful labor:
Be firm, steadfast, always fully devoted to the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.
1 Corinthians 92:15-16
What about our actions – the fruit we bear to the world:
A good tree does not bear rotten fruit, nor does a rotten tree bear good fruit. For every tree is known by its own fruit. For people do not pick figs from thornbushes, nor do they gather grapes from brambles. A good person out of the store of goodness in his heart produces good, but an evil person out of a store of evil produces evil; for from the fullness of the heart the mouth speaks.
Luke 6:43-54
Let’s set our sights on the beginning of Lent which is now on the near horizon. How do we want to begin the transformative journey offered us once again in this magnificent liturgical cycle? Now is the time to prepare.
Poetry: Birches BY ROBERT FROST
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy’s been swinging them.
But swinging doesn’t bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun’s warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It’s when I’m weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig’s having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love:
I don’t know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 31, the prayer of one who will not be shaken from faith in God.
For all my foes I am an object of reproach, a laughingstock to my neighbors, and a dread to my friends; they who see me abroad flee from me. I am forgotten like the unremembered dead; I am like a dish that is broken. But my trust is in you, O LORD; I say, “You are my God. In your hands is my destiny; rescue me from the clutches of my enemies and my persecutors.”
Psalm 31: 12-13
What is there to say about the Good Friday journey of Jesus? It may be that we can only walk beside him in loving, heart-broken silence.
There are times in our lives when we will be called to walk like this beside others in loving and merciful ministry.
There may be times when others are called to walk with us in such a way.
Let these times inform our prayer today.
Good Friday is the time we gather strength and compassionate understanding from Jesus to help us, in his Name, be Mercy in the world.
Poetry: From “The Dream of the Rood”, one of the Christian poems in the corpus of Old English literature and an example of the genre of dream poetry. Like most Old English poetry, it is written in alliterative verse. Rood is from the Old English word rōd ‘pole’, or more specifically ‘crucifix’. Preserved in the 10th-century Vercelli Book, the poem may be as old as the 8th-century Ruthwell Cross, and is considered as one of the oldest works of Old English literature.
The Rood (cross of Christ) speaks:
“It was long past – I still remember it –
That I was cut down at the copse’s end,
Moved from my root. Strong enemies there took me,
Told me to hold aloft their criminals,
Made me a spectacle. Men carried me
Upon their shoulders, set me on a hill,
A host of enemies there fastened me.
“And then I saw the Lord of all mankind
Hasten with eager zeal that He might mount
Upon me. I durst not against God’s word
Bend down or break, when I saw tremble all
The surface of the earth. Although I might
Have struck down all the foes, yet stood I fast.
“Then the young hero (who was God almighty)
Got ready, resolute and strong in heart.
He climbed onto the lofty gallows-tree,
Bold in the sight of many watching men,
When He intended to redeem mankind.
I trembled as the warrior embraced me.
But still I dared not bend down to the earth,
Fall to the ground. Upright I had to stand.
“A rood I was raised up; and I held high
The noble King, the Lord of heaven above.
I dared not stoop. They pierced me with dark nails;
The scars can still be clearly seen on me,
The open wounds of malice. Yet might I
Not harm them. They reviled us both together.
I was made wet all over with the blood
Which poured out from his side, after He had
Sent forth His spirit. And I underwent
Full many a dire experience on that hill.
I saw the God of hosts stretched grimly out.
Darkness covered the Ruler’s corpse with clouds
His shining beauty; shadows passed across,
Black in the darkness. All creation wept,
Bewailed the King’s death; Christ was on the cross….
“Now you may understand, dear warrior,
That I have suffered deeds of wicked men
And grievous sorrows. Now the time has come
That far and wide on earth men honor me,
And all this great and glorious creation,
And to this beacon offers prayers. On me
The Son of God once suffered; therefore now
I tower mighty underneath the heavens,
And I may heal all those in awe of me.
Once I became the cruelest of tortures,
Most hateful to all nations, till the time
I opened the right way of life for men.”
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 116 which Walter Bruggemann calls an example of “the performance of thanks”.
How shall I make a return to the LORD for all the good he has done for me? The cup of salvation I will take up, and I will call upon the name of the LORD.
Psalm 116: 12-13
There is a tone of solemn ritual woven through the psalm, just as there is throughout the Holy Thursday liturgies.
The time of waiting and wondering is over. Jesus chooses the Passover meal to formalize his understanding that the time has come to offer his life in an ultimate sacrifice of praise.
Before the feast of Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world to the Father. He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end.
John 13:1
The Last Supper by the nun Plautilla Nelli (1524–1588) of Florence Inscribed: Suor Plautilla · Orate Pro Pictora (Pray for the Paintress)
It is likely that, during his Last Supper, Jesus would have prayed, and possibly sung, Psalm 116 as part of the ancient Hallel, six thanksgiving prayers included in the Passover rites.
On our behalf, Jesus is about to enflesh in his own life the redemptive promise awaited through the ages. He is about to enact the Great Deliverance — far greater than that achieved in the Passover. By the power of his Paschal sacrifice, we are redeemed from death itself:
Return, my soul, to your rest; the LORD has been very good to you. For my soul has been freed from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling. I shall walk before the LORD in the land of the living
Psalm 116: 7-9
For me, Holy Thursday is the most solemnly beautiful and meaningful day of the Liturgical Year. There is so much to be found in the readings, especially as we peel back single phrases to hear their living power and love. There is so much to be learned at the side of Jesus as we pray with Him.
May we place ourselves beside Jesus at the holy table of his life. Feel him lay the gathering tensions down as he gathers his beloveds in the truth of this moment. It is time for him to give everything over in love. This is the moment of Holy Acquiescence, this is the moment of Eucharist.
With Jesus, let us pray for the loosening of any bonds which prevent us from giving our lives lovingly into God’s Will for us, from allowing Eucharist to be offered through our lives.
Dear to the eyes of the LORD is the death of his faithful ones. I am your servant, the child of your handmaid; you have loosed my bonds. To you will I offer sacrifice of thanksgiving, and I will call upon the name of the LORD. My vows to the LORD I will pay in the presence of all his people.
Psalm 116: 15-18
Prose: from Mass on the World, by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Since once again Lord 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 I will offer you
all the labors and the sufferings of the world.
I will place on my paten Lord God
all the harvest to be won from your renewal.
Into my chalice, I shall pour all the sap
which is to be pressed out this day
from the earth’s fruits and from its sufferings.
All the things in the world
to which this day will bring increase;
all those that will diminish;
all those, too, that will die:
all of them, Lord, I try to gather into my arms
so as to hold them out to you in offering.
This is the material of my sacrifice,
the only material you desire.
The restless multitude, confused or orderly,
the immensity of which terrifies us,
this ocean of humanity,
the slow, monotonous wave-flows which trouble the hearts of even those whose faith is most firm.
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.
Receive, O Lord, this all-embracing Host
which your whole creation, moved by your magnetism,
offers you at this dawn of a new day.Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt cæli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.
Music: Sanctus – Jessie Norman
(Get someplace where you can turn the sound up for this and let it blow you away. There are some exquisite soft notes, beginning and end, that you don’t want to miss. Wait for them.)
Lavish Mercy 