That I, Paul, might not become too elated, because of the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, an angel of Satan, to beat me, to keep me from being too elated. Three times I begged the Lord about this, that it might leave me, but he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Corinthians 13:6-9
Two millennia of believers have speculated about Paul’s “thorn”. Was it a bad hip, sciatica, or maybe eczema? And why didn’t he just come right out and tell us what it was?
Such useless speculation may make us miss the point of this powerful passage. Paul was immensely graced by God to the point that he could easily have become proud. Although he begged for the “thorn” to leave him, he received it as a gift. That gift allowed Paul to give not only his strengths to God’s service, but also his weaknesses.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
Do you have a little “thorn” somewhere that bothers and distracts you from full trust in God? Maybe an inability to forgive, an excessive need for control, an uncharitable judgment, a fear of change, an intolerance toward certain personalities, a fascination with personal achievements?
God invites us to transform these “thorns” into blessings by giving them to the Divine Energy Who calls us to love fiercely like Paul did.
Quote:
“The thorn from the bush one has planted, nourished and pruned pricks more deeply and draws more blood.”
Maya Angelou
Music: A Thorn Tree – from Trinity UMC in Montpelier, VT
I came upon this lovely rendition by accident, and I thought it was beautiful in its simplicity.
The disciples of John approached Jesus and said, “Why do we and the Pharisees fast much, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered them, “Can the wedding guests mourn as long as the bridegroom is with them? The days will come when the bridegroom is taken away from them, and then they will fast. No one patches an old cloak with a piece of unshrunken cloth, for its fullness pulls away from the cloak and the tear gets worse. People do not put new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise the skins burst, the wine spills out, and the skins are ruined. Rather, they pour new wine into fresh wineskins, and both are preserved.” Matthew 9:14-17
Jesus tells the Baptist’s questioning disciples that his is a new world. The confines of the Old Law will no longer contain the new grace of the Paschal Mystery and the Gospel.
Old wineskins become brittle with overuse. The analogy is applicable to many realities in life. Often, as time passes, we pay less attention to some important things or people. We may take them for granted, over-depend on their effectiveness, fail to effectively communicate, surrender to that famous “contemptuous familiarity”.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Immobilizing constriction can affect our faith too. Jesus encourages us to keep faith “fresh” by prayer, communal reflection, and practice. Neither our personal nor our communal faith is static. Grace offers us the invitation to become ever deeper in our understanding of God. The current Synodal process within the Catholic Church is a wonderful example of openness to fresh, new “wineskins” for our faith.
Poetry: Wine Skins – Evelyn McNulta This is a simple poem with devout sentiments, but what struck me most about it is where I found it – in a public newspaper, The Atlanta Chronicle. The poem reminded me of a poet some of my older local readers might remember – James Metcalfe. His “Daily Poem Portraits” were published in The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin during the 1950s. They were a great favorite of my Dad.
My hands are uplifted in homage to Him, They're not empty. They hold loosely those sins that cause separation of His spirit and mine.
Dear Father, take them and fill me with new wine. The wine skins of my life are brittle and hard, They can't hold your new wine because they are marred. Please replace them with supple new skins
That can be distended again and again. These wine skins are vessels that hold Your concerns, Help me remember the things I have learned. The more I am emptied of selfish desires,
The more You can cleanse me with Your cleansing fire. You'll burn away malice, ill-temper and greed, And open my eyes to Your people in need. You'll put unforgiveness also in Your fire,
And fill my heart with the burning desire To worship, to honor, to praise Your dear name. Your new wine remakes hearts, they're never the same. Take mine, Holy Father, change what you will,
I'm nothing without You, I need You to fill Each crevice, and corner and nook of my heart. There's much to be changed, I'm asking, please start.
Our Gospel today recounts the call of Matthew to be Jesus’ disciple. The master artist Caravaggio has beautifully captured that “Who me?” moment. We see the summoning hand of Jesus out of the shadows on the right. Matthew and his companion are flushed with Light. Matthew, on the left, points to his chest in the implied question, “Are you talking to me?”.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: Yes, God is talking to me. Do I see God’s Presence, perhaps out of the shadowy circumstances of my life? Do I listen? What do I hear? Do I follow?.
Matthew stood right up and followed. What can we learn from him?
Poetry: The Calling of St. Matthew – James Lasdun
Not the abrupt way, frozen In the one glance of a painter’s frame Christ in the doorway pointing. Matthew’s face Bright with perplexity, the glaze Of a lifetime at the countinghouse Cracked in the split second’s bolt of being chosen.
But over the years, slowly, Hinted at, an invisible curve; Persistent bias always favoring Backwardly the relinquished thing Over the kept, the gold signet ring Dropped in a beggar’s bowl, the eye not fully
Comprehending the hand, not yet; Heirloom damask thrust in a passing Stranger’s hand, the ceremonial saddle (Looped coins, crushed clouds of inline pearl) Given on an irresistible impulse to a servant. Where it sat
A saddle-shaped emptiness Briefly, obscurely brimming … Flagons Cellars of wine, then as impulse steadied into habit, habit to need, Need to compulsion, the whole vineyard The land itself, graves, herds, the ancestral house,
Given away, each object’s Hollowed-out void successively More vivid in him than the thing itself, As if renouncing merely gave Density to having; as if He’s glimpsed in nothingness a derelict’s
Secret of unabated, Inverse possession … And only then, Almost superfluous, does the figure Step softly to the shelter door; Casual, foreknown, almost familiar, Calmly received, like someone long awaited.
Several years ago, on the Fourth of July, I planned to meet elderly friends for dinner and had arrived early to await them in the restaurant parking lot. As Carlos and his wife arrived, they headed for the last open handicapped space, only to be cut out by another car. Carlos went on to find a space at the back of the lot as I observed the other couple emerge from their souped-up muscle car, sporting a decal which read ”It’s America, Stupid. Speak English!”. The driver was a muscular guy in cut-offs and tank top, head wrapped in an American flag kerchief. Laughing at their parking prowess, the two threw a handicapped placard on the dashboard and ran into the restaurant.
Meanwhile, Cuban-born Carlos, a WW II vet, awarded a Purple Heart and a Silver Star, struggled from a distance in his wheelchair. At twenty-two years of age, Carlos’ legs were shattered as he saved his platoon by throwing his body on a live grenade. As a price for their lives, he had spent the rest of his life confined to a wheelchair.
Carlos and his wife died years ago. But over the years, I have often reflected on that indelible parking lot scene. For me, it is the perfect parable of the difference between true and false patriotism.
Amidst the fireworks, barbecues and baseball games of the Fourth, a subtle truth runs like a quiet, life-giving stream: we are profoundly blessed to be Americans. Most of us know and believe that, but sometimes, a few distort it or take it for granted. This star-spangled time each summer invites us to look more closely at the gift of our citizenship.
Do we vote?
Do we diligently study candidates’ philosophies and voting records?
Do we disregard party and personality in the interest of ethical, world-conscious leadership?
Do we consistently study issues and express beliefs to elected officials?
When I listen to some political talk shows, it scares me. Some of these pundits have badly confused patriotism with nationalism. Patriotism is always fed by unbiased truth, mutuality and respect. At its heart is freedom — for everyone. Nationalism breeds states like Nazi Germany in the past century and North Korea in our own. It is fed by unexamined fears, conspiracy falsehoods, control and abuse. At its heart is domination – over everyone.
We live in a wonderful country where most citizens understand the huge difference between patriotic devotion and nationalistic arrogance. Our young men and women are willing to fight and die for that difference. Our brightest leaders have given their lives for it. We must never cheapen these sacrifices by espousing the false “Americanism” of isolation, exclusion, domination or conceit.
Let’s turn off the exploitive and manipulative cable channels. Let’s listen to our own hearts where the essence of freedom beats like a minuteman’s drum – where truth was breathed into us long before we even knew we were Americans.
… people brought to Jesus a paralytic lying on a stretcher. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, “Courage, child, your sins are forgiven.”
This passage describes a situation found in just a few of Jesus’s miracles. The miracle occurs because of the intervention of others, not the one in need. When Jesus sees the faith of those who carried this young man, his Infinite Mercy was moved.
It seems that perhaps the afflicted person had lost hope. It was his friends who hoped – his friends who carried him. What a gift it is to have friends who will stand by you in life’s sometimes crippling circumstances. What a blessing to have companions who see your salvation when you have lost the vision!
Acting on the faith of these steadfast friends, Jesus tells the paralytic to reach down into his soul and recover the courage that will make him whole.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy: We pray to be faithful friends like the ones described in this passage. We pray in gratitude for those who are such friends to us.
Thought:
There is nothing on earth more to be prized than true friendship.
So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But Thomas said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.” John 20:25
There’s that tiny word for which, despite a magnanimously holy life, Thomas remains famous:
Unless …
At that particular moment in his life, Thomas’s faith was conditional. He would not believe Jesus was alive unless he saw and touched him.
I doubt that Thomas was alone in his “conditionality”. The faith of many of those scared disciples was probably a bit shaky. Thomas was just more forthcoming in his doubts and hadn’t, like some of them, already seen the Risen Lord.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We all know what it’s like to have doubts – about big things, like our faith, and about little things like our appearance. It feels like we’re being dropped into a safety net that might have a hole in it. Will it hold, or will it fall through? And what happens to us in either case!
Decades ago, when I taught eighth grade, one of my brightest students asked me this: “Sister, you’ve dedicated your whole life for the faith. What if, in the end, there is no God or heaven?”
I’m not going to tell you my answer. I’m going to suggest that you consider what your own answer would be. Is your faith conditional or unconditional?
Poetry: St. Thomas the Apostle – Bishop Edward Henry Bickersteth (1825-1906)
The Paschal feast was ended. Multitudes, Unweeting what was done, that day had left The gates of Zion for their far-off homes; And there was silence, where but yesterday Had been the hum of thousands. Olivet Slept calmly underneath the waning moon, And darkening shadows fell across the steeps And hollows of Jerusalem. Deep night Had drench'd the eyes of thousands. But, behold, Within the upper room where Jesus broke The bread of life, and pour'd the mystic wine The night before He suffer'd, once again The little band of those who loved Him most Were gather'd. On the morrow morn they thought To leave the holy city, holier now Than ever in their eyes, and go to meet Their Lord upon the Galilean hill.
All bosoms swell'd with gladness, all save one; One heart amid that group of light and love Was desolate and dark: nine weary days Of doubt, which shadow'd all eternity, Had written years of suffering on his brow. The worst he fear'd to him was realized, Life quench'd, for ever quench'd, and death supreme. Jesus was dead. And vainly others told, How they had seen and heard their risen Lord; Himself had seen the lifeless body hang Upon the cross; and, till he saw like them And like them touch'd the prints in hands and side, He would not, for he could not, hope again.
But there has been enough of sorrow now For that true mourner, sorely tried but true: And as they communed of an absent Lord Jesus was there, though doors were shut and barr'd, There in the midst of them; and from His lips, Who is Himself our Peace, the words of peace Fell as of old like dew on every heart, But surely sweetest, calmest, tenderest On one most torn and tost. The waves were still; Day broke; the shadows fled: nor this alone, Love offer'd all which bitterest grief had ask'd, And laying bare the inly bleeding wound Heal'd it, which haply else had bled afresh In after years, till faith adoring claim'd In One, whom sense no longer sought to touch, The Lord of life, the everlasting God.
O Master, though our eyes have never look'd Upon Thy blessèd face and glorious form, Grant us to trust Thee with a perfect trust, And love Thee and rejoice in Thee unseen, And prove the heaven of Thy beatitude On those who, though they see Thee not, believe.
Music: When I Survey The Wondrous Cross – Keith & Kristyn Getty
Sometimes a reading will be repeated rather quickly in the Liturgy. Such is the case with today’s Gospel which we read on June 23. So, I may be being a little lazy, but I too have repeated the reflection. I think it might be worth a second glance. 😉
A violent squall came up and waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was already filling up. Jesus was in the stern, asleep on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Quiet! Be still!” The wind ceased and there was great calm. Then he asked them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” Mark 4:37-40
Many years ago, at a particularly critical crossroad in my life, a revered mentor rescued me. She did it with a simple phrase, “Do not go down under this wave.”
Her counsel challenged me stand up and reach for my faith, despite having been knocked down by gross misjudgment. Her confidence led me to realize that with faith we can find God within our circumstances, releasing a power we may not have recognized before.
In today’s passage, Jesus urges his disciples to live this kind of faith. God is with them, even when seemingly asleep. Fully trusting that Presence will allow their lives to unfold in peace, despite any passing storm. And yes, all storms are passing. 🙂
Poetry: I Go Down to the Shore – Mary Oliver
I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall— what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do.
A scribe approached and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” Jesus answered him, “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Another of his disciples said to him, “Lord, let me go first and bury my father.” But Jesus answered him, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their dead.” Matthew 8: 19-22
The scribe. What was Jesus driving home to this learned interpreter of the Law who now bursts with enthusiasm for discipleship? Perhaps Jesus looked up to a small nest in a nearby tree. Maybe he pointed to it and told the scribe, ” You have to spread your wings and fly with God if you follow me!”
Basically, I think Jesus is saying this:
Think about it. It’s a way very different from your present comfortable life.
We are itinerant preachers, going out to the whole world. We are not intrenched in the Law, commanding people to come to us.
Even the core responsibilities to which you are devoted will be secondary to your Gospel ministry.
The whole foundation of your life will be turned upside-down.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy:
We want to serve God by living the Gospel with a steadfast and enthusiastic heart. We pray for the grace and courage to do so, understanding clearly where our first responsibilities lie as a committed Christian.
Prose from: The Wisdom of the Carpenter by Ron Miller
Jesus walked the earth as a homeless vagrant and identified his disciples by their concern for the most marginalized people in the community. It’s such a simple criterion and yet one so easily forgotten. Daily Prayer: Help me to be especially attentive to You today in those who have so little of the world’s wealth.
Music: He Had Not Where To Lay His Head Score: Alison Willis Text:Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (1825 – 1911)
There was a woman afflicted with hemorrhages for twelve years. She had suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and had spent all that she had. Yet she was not helped but only grew worse. She had heard about Jesus and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak. She said, “If I but touch his clothes, I shall be cured.” Immediately her flow of blood dried up. She felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction. Matthew 5:25-29
After praying with this passage from Mark, I wrote this homily almost a decade ago. I liked it very much. And even though it is long, I thought some of you might like to read it or to pray with it this Sunday.
One of my favorite voices from the 50s and 60s, Sam Cooke is considered one among the greatest R&B artists of all time. Some of you may recall his pop hits like “You Send Me” and “Twisting’ the Night Away”.
Early in his career, he sang with a Gospel group, the Soul Stirrers.
In 1950, Cooke replaced gospel tenor R. H. Harris as lead singer of his gospel group The Soul Stirrer. Their first recording under Cooke’s leadership was the song “Jesus Gave Me Water” in 1950. They also recorded the gospel songs “Peace in the Valley”, “How Far Am I from Canaan?”, “Jesus Paid the Debt” and “One More River”, among many others, some of which he wrote. Cooke was often credited for bringing gospel music to the attention of a younger crowd of listeners, mainly girls who would rush to the stage when the Soul Stirrers hit the stage just to get a glimpse of him. (Wikipedia)
Lavish Mercy 