Jesus told his disciples this parable: “The Kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. Going out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ Matthew 20:1-4
Jesus tells the parable of the generous landowner who measures out recompense by love not law. Jesus teaches that this new law of love is the Godly means to calculate justice.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We pray to live by the kind of loving justice Jesus calls us to, not by the measurements that keep others in subservience or oppression. We might ask ourselves these questions:
What really belongs to me?
If I have achieved or received much in life is it not by the grace of God and good fortune?
How can I help others have what they justly deserve?
Poetry: from Rumi
When I am with you, everything is prayer. I prayed for change, so, I changed my mind.
I prayed for guidance and learned to trust myself.
I prayed for happiness and realized I am not my ego.
I prayed for peace and learned to accept others unconditionally.
I prayed for abundance and realized my doubt kept it out.
I prayed for wealth and realized it is my health.
I prayed for a miracle and realized I am the miracle.
I prayed for a soul mate and realized I am with the One.
I prayed for love and realized it is always knocking, but I have to allow it in.
But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the LORD. I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer will they have need to teach their friends and relatives how to know the LORD. All, from least to greatest, shall know me, says the LORD, for I will forgive their evildoing and remember their sin no more. Jeremiah 31:33-34
In today’s first reading, Jeremiah’s love song with God continues. He tells the people that God will “marry” their hearts by writing the Divine Design within them, and that all shall be included in that covenant of Infinite Mercy.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: In Jesus Christ, we are living in the fullness of that promise. Even in an apparently contradictory world, our faith impels us to believe, and to live a life which trusts that fulfillment.
Poetry: Draw Near – Scott Cairns
προσέλθετε(Come)
For near is where you’ll meet what you have wandered far to find. And near is where you’ll very likely see how far the near obtains. In the dark katholikon the lighted candles lent their gold to give the eye a more than common sense of what lay flickering just beyond the ken, and lent the mind a likely swoon just shy of apprehension. It was then that time’s neat artifice fell in and made for us a figure for when time would slip free altogether. I have no sense of what this means to you, so little sense of what to make of it myself, save one lit glimpse of how we live and move, a more expansive sense in Whom.
Music: Love Overflows – Michael Hoppé
One glass half empty One glass half full, Some may be dry now Mine overflows. See what you want to. Each to their own. My eyes are wide open And love overflows
In the darkest hours when you’re alone, think of me, darling, And love overflows. In the darkest hours, when you’re alone, think of me, darling, and love overflows.
Beloved: We did not follow cleverly devised myths when we made known to you the power and coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty. For he received honor and glory from God the Father when that unique declaration came to him from the majestic glory, “This is my Son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven while we were with him on the holy mountain. Moreover, we possess the prophetic message that is altogether reliable. You will do well to be attentive to it, as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts. 2 Peter 1:16-19
This beautiful passage from Peter shines with faith, adoration, and praise. It invites us to let go of our “thinking” about God and, instead, to bask in the Divine Glory of which our faith assures us.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: The Feast of the Transfiguration beckons us to be with God in the way we would be with someone we deeply love – not analyzing the bliss, but resting in it gratefully and contentedly.
Poetry: Transfiguration – Malcolm Guite
For that one moment, ‘in and out of time’, On that one mountain where all moments meet, The daily veil that covers the sublime In darkling glass fell dazzled at his feet. There were no angels full of eyes and wings Just living glory full of truth and grace. The Love that dances at the heart of things Shone out upon us from a human face And to that light the light in us leaped up, We felt it quicken somewhere deep within, A sudden blaze of long-extinguished hope Trembled and tingled through the tender skin. Nor can this blackened sky, this darkened scar Eclipse that glimpse of how things really are.
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.
But the seed sown on rich soil is the one who hears the word and understands it, who indeed bears fruit and yields a hundred or sixty or thirtyfold. Matthew 13:23
How appropriate, on this feast of Anne and Joachim, that the Gospel describes the abundant yield of love and fidelity. Those virtues in Anne and Joachim shaped the heart of Mary as the Vessel of God.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We gratefully remember those in our own lives who helped shape us by their faith, guardianship, and generosity – parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, trusted mentors, generous friends.
Poetry: The Splendor Falls – Alfred Lord Tennyson
The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
I found a reference to this poem in a lovely reflection by Franciscan Sister Kathleen Murphy which you may read here:
Chorus: We are standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before us. They are giving us their courage, and they say we are glad you’re in this world.
May the strength of the ancestors encircle you. May the strength of the ancestors encircle you. And may this strength stay with you your whole life through. May the strength of the ancestors encircle you.
We are standing on the shoulders of the ones who came before us. They are giving us their courage, and they say we are glad you’re in this world.
Refrain: May you have all your choices. May you have all your voices. May your wisdom now be heard. They say we are glad you’re in this world.
May the trust of the ancestors be healing you. (2x) And may this trust stay with you your whole life through. May the trust of the ancestors be healing you.
We are lifting up our vision to the ones who will come after. We are sending them our courage, as they wait to come into this world.
Refrain: May you have all your choices. May you have all your voices. May your wisdom now be heard. They say we are glad you’re in this world.
In all wisdom and insight, God has made known to us the mystery of the Divine Will in accord with the favor set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of times, to sum up all things in Christ, in heaven and on earth. Ephesians 1:9-10
In this tiny passage from Ephesians, Paul describes infinite realities – that our Creator has shared with us a Divine Mystery that we will never fully understand in this life. The Mystery has been embodied in the life and Person of Jesus Christ so that we may see and imitate what Divine Love looks like. That alignment with Love is the Will of our God for us.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We ask that our simple faith may open itself to the Mystery of God’s Love. God is not a problem to be solved. Nor are God’s ways fully comprehensible to us. But Jesus has lived Love in our midst so that we can see the only thing we need to understand.
Poetry: Love’s Choice – Malcolm Guite
This bread is light, dissolving, almost air, A little visitation on my tongue, A wafer-thin sensation, hardly there. This taste of wine is brief in flavour, flung A moment to the palate’s roof and fled, Even its aftertaste a memory. Yet this is how He comes. Through wine and bread Love chooses to be emptied into me. He does not come in unimagined light Too bright to be denied, too absolute For consciousness, too strong for sight, Leaving the seer blind, the poet mute; Chooses instead to seep into each sense, To dye himself into experience.
Music: The Mystery – Michael Card and John Michael Talbot
Could you be findin’ the mystery You have been lookin’ for A kingdom where servants will come to be kings Are you lookin’ for And you’ll know That the sweet paradoxes unfold And the mystery will clearly show And you’ll know And you’ll know
Jesus, paint my life (Could you be findin’ the mystery) Jesus, paint my life (Could you be findin’ the mystery) Jesus, paint my life (Could you be findin’ the mystery)
And we know You are the Master of painters Comin’ the true Prince of Peace And we know You are the Tue Creator Comin’ the King of kings
Jesus, paint my life with charity Paint my life with mercy Paint my life
Can you be the light of the world Can you be the light Then take the light that’s given to you Can you be the light
Can you give your love to the world Can you give your love Take the love that’s given to you Can you give your love
Jesus, paint my life with charity Paint my life with mercy Paint my life Paint my life
Jesus went around to all the towns and villages, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the Gospel of the Kingdom, and curing every disease and illness. At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd. Matthew 9:32-38
Have you ever felt your heart constrict or your belly drop in the face of deep sadness or shock? If so, you have felt “splancha”, the Greek word for that profound compassion that wells up from our innards for the sake of a suffering person.
Matthew tells us that Jesus felt “splancha” for the crowds because they were troubled and abandoned. They had lost their way to God and had no one to help them find it. Thus he reaches out to heal and teach them about God’s Lavish Mercy.
Today, in that same Lavish Mercy: By the grace of God may we, and all who are in need of grace, be healed of trouble and abandonment to find our way to God through the Mercy of Jesus.
Poetry: Mercy by John F. Dean
Unholy we sang this morning, and prayed as if we were not broken, crooked the Christ-figure hung, splayed on bloodied beams above us; devious God, dweller in shadows, mercy on us; immortal, cross-shattered Christ— your gentling grace down upon us.
Music: Merciful God – The Gettys and Stuart Townend
I will espouse you to me forever: I will espouse you in right and in justice, in love and in mercy; I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the LORD. Hosea 2:21-22
The prophet Hosea is a consummate poet. He uses the metaphor of espousal to convey the profound and merciful love of God for the people. Hosea contemplates his own life and his experience of marital infidelity to more deeply understand the relationship between a forgiving God and a false-hearted people. The language is beautiful, powerful, at times unsettling. It is intended to turn Israel’s heart – and ours – fully toward God’s love in repentance and fidelity.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy
God is the Lover and Spouse of our souls, of the whole Church, and of all Creation. In trust and openness, let us give ourselves to that Divine Mercy in every aspect of our lives.
Poetry: Hosea and Gomer by John Piper
This beautiful poem helps us more deeply understand the Book of Hosea.
The old man and his wife sat by The winter fire and looked out high Above the plains of Ephraim, And saw around the last regime Of Israel the shadows snake Their way from east to west and take Possession of Samaria. “How long until Assyria,’ They thought, “would break Hoshea’s rod, And violate the wife of God?”
But strange as it may seem, the doom They saw across the land left room For hope. And when they looked into Each other’s eyes, as they would do At night, they knew, as none could know But they, that God would bend his bow Against the charms of foreign men, And take his faithless wife again. They knew it could and would be done, As surely as the rising sun Drives darkness back unerringly, And drowns it in the western sea. They knew, because they had rehearsed The tragedy and played it first Themselves with passion and deceit.
“It’s true that life is far more sweet,” Hosea thought, “when it is lost, Then bought again at dreadful cost; And love grows strong when it must wait, And deep when it is almost hate.”
Such things as these he often said To Gomer as they watched the red And crimson echoes of the sky Descend Mount Tabor’s cliffs and die In darkness far below. And she Would say to him, “Your love for me Was like a mountain waterfall, And I the jagged stone. Of all The knives and hammers once applied None made me smooth or clean. They tried, But harlotry was in my blood, Until your love became a flood Cascading over my crude life And kept me as your only wife.”
They knew as none but they could know What it would mean that long ago The Lord allowed his love to swell, And married faithless Israel.
The passing of the years now found The children grown and gathered ’round This night: Jezreel and Loammi, Hosea’s sons, and at his knee Loruhamah. The room was sweet With memories, and each replete With pleasure and with ample pain. Among the memories one main Experience above the rest Embraced them all. It was the best; Indeed it was the mountain spring Of every happy stream from which The family ever drank, and rich With hope. It was Hosea’s love. The children stood in wonder of The way he loved, and Gomer too. But this had not always been true.
Hosea used to say, “It’s hard To be a seer, and prophet bard. The price is high when he must sing A song of ruin over everything In lyrics written with his life And lose his children and his wife.”
And so it was, Hosea heard The Lord. It was the strangest word A holy prophet ever got: And every pointed precept shot Like arrows at Hosea’s life: “Go take a harlot for your wife,” Thus says the Lord, “And feel with me The grief and pain of harlotry. Her father’s name is Diblaim; He makes fertility with cream And raisin cakes. He will not see Her go without a price, for she Has brought him profits from her trade. Now go, and let her price be paid; And bring her back and let her bear Your son. Call him Jezreel. For there Is coming soon a day when I Will strike and break the bloody thigh Of Jehu’s brutal house, and seal With blood the valley of Jezreel.
And after that, though she’s defiled. Go in, and get another child, And make your tender face like rock. Call her Loruahmah and lock Your heart against all sympathy: `Not pitied’ is her name. No plea From faithless Israel will wake My sympathy till I forsake My daughter in the wilderness.
Now multiply once more distress: Hosea, go beget a son, For there is yet one child to shun, And call him Loammi, in shame, For `Not My People’ is his name.”
Hosea used to walk along The Jordan rim and sing the song His father Beeri used to sing. Sometimes the tune and truth would bring Him peace, and he would pause and look At all the turns the Jordan took, To make its way down to the sea, And he would chant from memory:
Think not, my son, that God’s great river Of love flows simply to the sea, He aims not straight, but to deliver The wayward soul like you and me. Follow the current where it goes, With love and grace it ever flows. The years went by, the children grew, The river bent and Gomer knew A dozen men. And finally She left and traveled to the sea, And sold herself to foreign priests Who made the children serve at feasts Until they had no shame. And then The God of grace came down again, And said, “Hosea, go, embrace Your wife beside the sea. And place Your hand with blessing on the head Of Loammi, and raise the dead Loruhamah to life in me, And tell Jezreel that I will be For him a seed of hope to sow In righteousness. Hosea, go, The gracious river bends once more.”
And so the prophet loved these four Again, and sought them by the sea, And bought them with the equity Of everything he owned. That was The memory tonight, because Hosea loved beyond the way Of mortal man. What man would say, “Love grows more strong when it must wait, And deeper when it’s almost hate.”
Jezreel spoke softly for the rest, “Father, once more let us be blessed. What were the words from long ago That gave you strength to love us so? Would you please bless us with your rhyme, And sing it for us one more time?”
“Think not, my son, that God’s great river Of love flows simply to the sea, He aims not straight, but to deliver The wayward soul like you and me. Follow the current where it goes. With love and grace it ever flows.” “And children,” Gomer said with tears, “Mark this, the miracle of years.” She looked Hosea in the face And said, “Hosea, man of grace, Dark harlotry was in my blood, Until your love became a flood Cascading over my crude life And kept me as your only wife. I love the very ground you trod, And most of all I love your God.”
This is the lamp of candle four: A bride made ready at the door. A shabby slave waits her embrace, Blood-bought and beautified by grace.
Last week, a great tree was felled at the edge of our Motherhouse lawn. Having stood for decades near the Guardian Angel, it had shaded many generations on their way to Mercy: students, staff, visitors, and the Sisters themselves on their many ins and outs to this common home.
The whole community which gathers here daily felt a pang at the hewing, knowing that we had shared the very breath of this tree for so long. Its leafy embrace offered us a place to cool in the present, a way to remember the beauty of the past, and a security about the future. Seeing it disassembled by necessity gave a bittersweet pain. But there was a peace in knowing that our tree had come to completion with honor and dignity.
We drew so much from the presence of that tree, but perhaps we can draw even more from its absence. The lines of Gregory Norbet’s hymn “Hosea” come to mind:
Trees do bend, though straight and tall. So must we to others’ call Long have I waited for your coming home to me, And living deeply our new life.
Our tree, even in its retreat, still speaks to us – a truth becoming profoundly evident these days as we mourn the passing of our sister and friend Marie Ann Ellmer. She stood straight and tall among us, but another call came precipitously in the early morning last week.
When a beloved dies, one with whom we drew the same breath and hope, part of us dies. Whether a great tree or a magnanimous soul, they take something with them of the life we shared. When we mourn them, it is that which is taken that we pine for. But as we fold their lives under Love’s eternal blanket, it is that which they have left us that gives joyful peace.
That glorious tree and dear Marie Ann seem to be one now in the solemn aura that follows death. Both, in rare beauty, brought others to the precious gift of Mercy. Both remain treasured in its Everlasting Power. And both have given back to Creation the blessed graces that made them shine among us.
But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right is doing, so that your almsgiving may be secret.
But when you pray, go to your inner room, close the door, and pray to your Father in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will repay you.
But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, so that you may not appear to others to be fasting, except to your Father who is hidden. And your Father who sees what is hidden will repay you. Matthew 6:3-4;6;17-18
In these verses, Jesus tells us that our relationship with God – through almsgiving, prayer, and fasting – is private, personal, and intimate. When we commune with God through these actions, it is secret – a love shared between you and the Divine Beloved.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Let’s think about our acts of generosity, prayer, and spiritual discipline as gifts given to God, even though they are offered through our service to others. Living a grateful life, we are delighted by God’s gifts to us given from an Infinite Love. May we respond by our humble efforts to delight God in return.
Poetry: from St. Teresa of Avila
Christ has no body on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassionately on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands with which he blesses all the world. Christ has no body now on earth but yours!
Music: God Has No Body Now But Yours – David Ogden based on Teresa of Avila
Lavish Mercy 