In our Gospel, we continue to pray with John’s Discourse on the Bread of Life.
The setting is Capernaum, on the other side of the lake from where the feeding of the 5000 occurred. Rumors are flying about how Jesus got from one side to the other without a boat. In other words, the air is buzzing with whispers of miracles.
Some bright light in the re-gathering crowd decides to become their representative and inquisitor of Jesus:
“What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you? What can you do? Our ancestors ate manna in the desert … ” (how about something a long those lines, the questioner seems to imply????)
Where was this guy when the loaves and fishes were pouring out of a single basket? Where was he when Jesus appeared at the lake’s far side, already rested and waiting for the exhausted, arriving crowd?
But Jesus doesn’t take the inquisitor’s bait. He speaks as the Divine Teacher to help them understand that this is about a lot more than signs and miracles.
Jesus reminds them that any “miracle”, any “manna” should lead us to God, in whose Presence the need and demand for continuing miracles ceases.
Jesus encourages them to get beyond their limited perceptions of signs, manna, bread, and miracles. He explains that all the Power of God stands before them in him, the Son, the Bread sent “down from heaven, and giving life to the world.”
It’s a lot to take in. But they want to: “Sir, give us this bread always.”
It’s a lot for us to take in too, don’t you think. I know I wouldn’t mind a regular old miracle now and then… a shower of manna or a cure for Covid19!
But instead Jesus asks us to live within the miracle of God’s Presence in all things, in the bread of our ordinary lives which He transforms by love.
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”
Stephen had this kind of radical faith. “Filled with the Holy Spirit”, he could – even in the throes of human contradiction – “see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God.”
May our faith ever deepen that we too see God in the Bread of our ordinary daily lives. May that faith inspire us to act always with love, hope and mercy.
Music:I Am the Bread, the Bread of Life – Brian Hoare
Today, in Mercy, our Gospel tells the sad story of Jesus’s betrayal by his closest friends.
Pope Francis, in his Palm Sunday homily, reflected on the depth of these betrayals:
Jesus suffered betrayal by the disciple who sold him and by the disciple who denied him. He was betrayed by the people who sang hosanna to him and then shouted: “Crucify him!” He was betrayed by the religious institution that unjustly condemned him and by the political institution that washed its hands of him.
We can think of all the small or great betrayals that we have suffered in life. It is terrible to discover that a firmly placed trust has been betrayed. From deep within our heart a disappointment surges up that can even make life seem meaningless. This happens because we were born to be loved and to love, and the most painful thing is to be betrayed by someone who promised to be loyal and close to us. We cannot even imagine how painful it was for God who is love.
As we walk beside Jesus on this Fearful Tuesday, let us confide our hurts, current or remembered, asking to be gracefully transformed by them. Let us listen to Jesus’s pain and heart-break, asking to be a source of comfort and love to Him.
With Jesus, may we carry in our prayer all those throughout the world suffering abandonment, fear, loss, or betrayal at this painful time.
Music: I Will Carry You – Sean Clive
You may hear this song in many ways. Perhaps Jesus comforts you with it. Or you might comfort Jesus in his escalating suffering. Or together, Jesus and you may sing it over a suffering world.
(Lyrics below)
I will carry you when you are weak.
I will carry you when you can’t speak.
I will carry you when you can’t pray.
I will carry you each night and day.
I will carry you when times are hard.
I will carry you both near & far.
I’ll be there with you whenever you fall.
I will carry you through it all.
My arms are wider than the sky,
softer than a little child,
stronger than the raging,
calming like a gentle breeze.
Trust in me to hold on tight because
I will carry you when you can’t stand.
I’ll be there for you to hold your hand.
And I will show you that you’re never alone.
I will carry you and bring you back home.
Not pain, not fear, not death, no nothing at all
can separate you from my love.
My arms and hands will hold you close.
Just reach out and take them in your own.
Trust in me to hold on tight.
I will carry you.
Today, in Mercy, our Gospel places a fundamental question before us.How should the precious oil be used – tenderly poured out or reasonably saved?It is a question that challenges us to balance justice with mercy, reality with hope, law with passion.How are we being asked to open our alabaster jar?
This poem by Malcolm Guite may offer inspiration for our prayer:
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.
(Malcolm Guite: The Anointing at Bethany)
Jesus, give us courage to accompany you in your final journey. May your passion, death and resurrection bring us new life.
As we make this Holy Week journey, may we prove our love by our actions.May we live generously, hopefully, and gratefully in the Mercy of God.
Music:Pour My Love on You by Craig and Dean Phillips
(I hope you will enjoy my reminiscence on this Feast of the Annunciation. I published it previously, but I loved praying with it again this morning. This strange Corona Virus time gives us all a chance to look back over the “salvation history” of our lives. Where were your “calls”, your turning points, your wake-up moments? What do you give thanks for in this moment, as we stand still and look our lives right in the eyes?)
March 25th, fifty-seven years ago, was a pleasantly warm day in Philly, with a strong hint of spring in the air. I remember the day as clearly as if it dawned just this morning.
St. Hubert’s HS Windows
I sat in 2nd period senior year math class, glancing at the greening cherry tree at the window, and yearning for graduation. Sister Helen Mary, IHM ( I still remember her even though she thought I was pretty forgettable in math) decided to set the formulas aside and talk about Mary and the Feast of the Annunciation.
For several years, I had been toying with the thought of a religious vocation – but I hadn’t really given my heart to it. But, just three days before, while meeting up with one of my friends in her home room, I had noticed the Centenary Book of the Sisters of Mercy on Sister Mary Giovanni’s desk. I liked the pictures in it so I asked if I could borrow the book for a night or two.
It had never crossed my mind to consider becoming a Sister of Mercy. I hadn’t really known any until high school. But as soon as I met them I liked them. They were friendly, joyful people with a beautiful mix of humanity and spirituality.
Blissfully reading that book on the evening of March 24th, I opened to the magnificent center page. It is hard to decipher it in the picture, but the motto written above the painting of the Crucifixion deeply touched me, “Love One Another”.
Another page offered a phrase that grabbed my heart and, to this day, has never let it go:
The Sisters of Mercy take a fourth vow of service of the poor, sick and ignorant.
I suppose that, during trig class the next morning, I was already primed for Sister Helen Mary’s talk. She said that Mary responded fully and joyfully when God called her. In a flash as quick as an angel-wing, I decided to do the same.
I left class, found Sister Giovanni and, before 3rd period, I had committed to become a Sister of Mercy.
Now I look back over those fifty-seven glorious years, and my heart sings in thanksgiving for my vocation, my beloved Sisters and the precious people I have served. I turn the ring, given at my profession, and read the cherished motto, “Love One Another “. Our God is a faithful God. Just as He did for MAry, God took a young girl’s gossamer promise and wove it into a divine love story.
I love this powerful poem Annunciation by Denise Levertov. May it enrich us on this sacred feast. Great song after.
Annunciation
by Denise Levertov
‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’
From the Agathistos Hymn, Greece, Sixth Century
We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.
But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
God waited.
She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.
____________________________
Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
when roads of light and storm
open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from
in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.
______________________________
She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child – but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.
Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
perceiving instantly
the astounding ministry she was offered:
to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power –
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love –
but who was God. From: The Stream & the Sapphire: Selected Poems on Religious Theme
Music: To God Be the Glory – Sandi Patty (Lyrics below)
How can I say thanks
For the things You have done for me?
Things so undeserved,
Yet You gave to prove Your love for me;
The voices of a million angels
Could not express my gratitude.
All that I am and ever hope to be,
I owe it all to Thee.
To God be the glory,
To God be the glory,
To God be the glory
For the things He has done.
With His blood He has saved me,
With His power He has raised me;
To God be the glory
For the things He has done.
Just let me live my life,
Let it pleasing, Lord to Thee,
And if I gain any praise,
Let it go to Calvary.
March 22nd is the 39th anniversary of my Dad’s death.
I wanted to share this poem with you all because I believe even the darkest times come back to the Light. It’s a good time to remember that.
The Call
The deepest groan
sound ever tore from me
was on the day
my father died.
My brother’s voice
ran through the telephone
in liquid sorrow,
like a strong willow weeping,
holding roots down deep,
but spilling over tenderly
at fragile edges.
With his brave and wounded summons,
a primal broken cry
escaped from me
without my willing it.
It welled up, ebony and viscous,
from the center of my being,
molten, from a fissure
in the rock where I am rooted.
At that moment,
I am certain of it,
my father’s spirit separated
from the earth, or went
down invisible to join it.
When I finally came to him,
through a long journey,
a failing warmth from his blue skin
was all that met me,
and the blue memories waving
in a somnolent field
over his lifeless body,
that I picked, one by one,
like flowers in the silence.
That bouquet is preserved
in my soul as in a white
glass vase. I bring it out
for blessing rites upon
things my father would have blessed
had he not died.
The benediction of these flowers
has fallen now for years
on all the lovely, growing
things in family, in self,
and slowly, over years, they’ve
turned from blue to all the colors
they once were in his heart,
like rainbows
or glass the deeper stained
by setting sun.
Today, in Mercy, I’m going to tell you a story. But first …
In our first reading, the passionate prophet Hosea offers us this quintessential Lenten advice:
Return, O Israel, to the LORD, your God; you have collapsed through your guilt. Take with you words, and return to the LORD
In our Gospel, Jesus is giving advice too. A sincere scribe seeks out Jesus’ wisdom:
One of the scribes came to Jesus and asked him, “Which is the greatest of all the commandments?”
Jesus instructs the scribe:
The Lord our God is Lord alone!
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
with all your soul,
with all your mind,
and with all your strength.
Then Jesus goes on to tell him the second greatest commandment:
You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Assessing the scribe’s sincerity, Jesus promises him:
“You are not far from the Kingdom of God.”
Praying with these passages on this particular date took me back to March 20, 1963, Wednesday of the 3rd week of Lent that year. I was almost 18 years old and, while not wise as a scribe, I too sought answers to guide my faith.
One place I found thatwisdom was at the desk of a wonderful Sister of Mercy, Sister Mary Giovanni. Like many high school girls back then, I hung around Sister’s homeroom after school. Her good humor, gentle interest, and kind encouragement nourished all of us still slightly silly but ever-so-earnest young women.
On that particular afternoon, an unusual white book sat on Sister’s desk. Its gold letters attracted me and I asked what it was. Sister said it was her community’s centenary book and that, if I wanted, I could borrow it to read.
That little book changed my life. Well, I guess what it actually did was to capture many loose threads running through my mind and heart, and to tie them into a conviction.
I had been toying with a religious vocation ever since third grade. I did love God with my whole heart, just like the young scribe in today’s Gospel. And I loved the nuns and I always wanted to be like them. But actually becoming like them was another story.
That little white book gave me the courage and will to make that commitment. Here’s what it said:
The Sisters of Mercy, in addition to the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, take a fourth vow of service of the poor, sick, and ignorant.
That was it! That short sentence opened my understanding to see that loving God had to be demonstrated in love of neighbor. The two great commandments are always interdependent.
So I decided to “take my words”, as Hosea encourages, and to ask God if He would have me as a Sister of Mercy.
Less than a week after reading that book, I signed up to become a Sister of Mercy. And I have continued to become one every day for almost 60 years. Because just as Jesus said to the scribe, I believe I am “not far from the Kingdom of Heaven”. But I’m not there yet. Everyday is a chance to grow deeper into the glorious gift that was opened to me back in March 1963.
As you pray with these passages today, take a long view of God’s continuing call in your life. You may have been called to marriage and parenthood, priesthood, a generous single life, a profession which allowed you to serve others.
In each individual call, we are invited to love God with all our hearts and to love others as God loves them. Let’s pray for one another’s continuing deepening in our particular call.
Music: The Call – written by Vaughn Williams from the poetry of George Herbert
(Lyrics below)
Moses spoke to the people, saying: “This day the LORD, your God, commands you to observe these statutes and decrees. Be careful, then, to observe them with all your heart and with all your soul.
Today, in Mercy, Moses tells us this:
Be careful, then …
Be careful of what? Does he mean be careful like,”Don’t fall down the steps!”. Or does he mean be careful like, “Hold tenderly to love in your life.”?
In this passage from Deuteronomy, Moses goes on to say one of my favorite biblical phrases:
… today the LORD is making this agreement with you:
you are to be a people peculiarly his own, as he promised you…
Since the 17th century, the word “peculiar” has taken on the meaning of “odd” or “unusual”.But the original sense comes from the Latin peculiaris meaning “of private property”
Moses is reminding us that we belong to God and God to us in a covenant similar to, but far exceeding, the mutuality of a marriage.
So we should “be careful”, full of care, in appreciation for this infinite love.
In our Gospel, Jesus tells us how to take this exquisite care of our precious relationship with God:
But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for God makes the sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. … Be compassionate as your Heavenly Father is compassionate.
So, let’s be careful of love today when we find this precious God in our sisters and brothers and in all God’s Creation. Let us be compassionate.
Today, in Mercy, our readings could confuse us with their threads of legalistic logic. We see several examples of “if-then” admonitions that can make us picture God as an accountant measuring every choice we make.
If the wicked man turns, … then he shall surely live
If the virtuous man turns, … then none of his good deeds shall be remembered.
If you, O Lord, Mark iniquities … then who can stand.
If you go to the altar unreconciled … then leave and be reconciled.
Sometimes, we can get obsessive about the “if-then” aspects of religion. And IF we do, THEN we probably miss the whole point. Because folded in today’s “if-then” seesaws is the truth of these passages: that the Lord does NOT sit miserly in Heaven to mark our iniquities.
The Lord measures the righteousness of love.
“Thus says the LORD, “Let not a wise man boast of his wisdom, and let not the mighty man boast of his might, let not a rich man boast of his riches; but let him who boasts boast of this, that he understands and knows Me, that I am the LORD who exercises lovingkindness, justice and righteousness on earth; for I delight in these things,” declares the LORD.—Jeremiah 9:23-24
Today’s Responsorial Psalm offers us a beautiful prayer for this morning as we pray in the embrace of God’s Lavish Mercy:
I trust in the LORD; my soul trusts in his word. My soul waits for the LORD more than sentinels wait for the dawn. Let Israel wait for the LORD. For with the LORD is kindness and with him is plenteous redemption; And he will redeem Israel from all their iniquities.
Let’s wait for the Lord today to see where God’s Grace invites us to the righteousness of Love.
Music: Everlasting Love – Mark Hendrickson & Family (Lyrics below)
Chorus
With an everlasting love
I love you I love you
With an everlasting love
a love that’ll never end
a love that’ll never end
I love you.
Till the stars lose their way
In the heavens up above
And the oceans all run dry
Till the clouds in the sky
Keep the rain all to themselves
Even longer I’ll love you
This I promise I’ll love you
My word I give it’s true
I love you
Till the morning sun ceases to arise
And the moon forgets to shine
Until heaven’s blue is erased from the sky Even longer I’ll love you
This I promise I’ll love you
My word I give it’s true
I love you
Today, in 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.
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, my friends.
I found this modern song helpful to my prayer. I imagine God singing it to me, to the world, as we begin our Lenten journey. Perhaps it may touch your prayer too. God loves us so much, infinitely more than we can comprehend. But imagining God’s love in human terms, as John of the Cross did, can sometimes deepen our understanding and response to God.
Today, in Mercy, the deep undercurrent of our readings is about the power and difficulties of faith.
James talks about how our faith can be choked by the weeds of “bitter jealousy and selfish ambition”. These chokers make us “boast and be false to the truth”. They fill us with a “pretend wisdom” that is not from the Holy Spirit.
Praying with this passage, I asked myself why we allow these ugly constraints to grasp our souls when the alternative James describes is so beautiful:
… the wisdom from above is first of all pure, then peaceable, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, without inconstancy or insincerity. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace for those who cultivate peace.
The Gospel helped me with an answer.
Unconditional faith is scary. It requires us to give control over to God. It asks us to let go of fear and to trust God’s Spirit within us. It needs us to empty our hearts of pretense and self-protection in order to make room for God’s transforming Mercy and Love.
This kind of faith will change us. It will make us “foolish” and insecure in worldly terms. It will cause us to live from a Wisdom the world misunderstands and mocks.
It’s hard to live that kind of faith. The dad in today’s Gospel admits it. He wants to have a faith that invites Christ’s power into his life. But he’s afraid. What if God wants something different for him and his son? What happens if he gives control over to God?
This yearning father confesses his ambivalence in a plea for Christ’s assistance:
We all find ourselves within that plea sometimes in our lives. It’s a faith of “if”, “maybe”, and “but” – all of which are hardly faith at all. Unconditional faith is “Yes”, no matter what. It is the place where Faith and Love merge.
Our faithful “Yes”, as the e.e.cummings poem might describe it:
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places
yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds
Music:When we live this “Yes Faith”, God’s love, God’s heart lives in us. This song by Michael Hedges, based on another poem by e.e.cummings, can be a prayer for us. We may be unused to calling God “my dear”, “my darling”. But a loving name for God can be helpful to our prayer. Substitute what works for you. Don’t be hesitant about being in love with God❤️
I Carry Your Heart – Michael Hedges (Lyrics below)
I carry your heart with me
I carry it in my heart
I am never without it
Anywhere i go you go, my dear
And whatever is done by only me
Is your doing, my darling.
I fear no fate
For you are my fate, my sweet
I want no world
For beautiful you are my world, my true
And it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
And whatever a sun will always sing is you
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
Here is the root of the root
And the bud of the bud
And the sky of the sky
Of a tree called life;
Which grows higher than the soul can hope
Or mind can hide
And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart
I carry it in my heart
The rise of an “Even Now” moment in our souls is like the hint of spring pushing its head through the winter snow.
Lavish Mercy 