Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, God is actively at work in both our scripture passages.
In our reading from Exodus, God instructs Moses in the Divine plan for Israel’s deliverance. It’s as if they’re sitting together at a drawing table laying out the course of history! Moses has some trepidation about how the people will accept this audacious plan. He asks for more detail on the game plan and God gives him a powerful answer:
Moses, hearing the voice of the LORD from the burning bush, said to him, “When I go to the children of Israel and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ if they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ what am I to tell them?” God replied, “I am who am.” Then he added, “This is what you shall tell the children of Israel: I AM sent me to you.”
Forever after God’s revelation to Moses, Moses is tied heart-to-heart with God in the unfolding plan of Creation. It is an image similar to the one Jesus uses in today’s Gospel.
Jesus asks us to be tied heart-to-heart with him, yoked to him as we seek our salvation. Jesus assures us that in that unity we will find rest and peace. The assumption might be that Jesus carries most of the weight and labor while we, conjoined with him in trust, benefit from his salvific action. The yoke is the sacred discipline of sincere openness to God’s Will wrought by prayer and Gospel living.
Jesus says all this within another “I am” statement – but this time God’s Name is given in descriptors rather than nomenclature: I ammeek and humble of heart …
Jesus said: “Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.”
Matthew 11:28-30
Poem Prayer: from Prayer Seeds by Joyce Rupp
Unnameable God, I feel you with me at every moment. You are my food, my drink, my sunlight, and the air I breath. (Psalm 16; Stephen Mitchell)
with each refreshing rain each slant of sunshine each beam of moonlight each whisper of wind
in every spiraling thought every turning of the heart every spoken and written word every action large and small
you stead, you lead you encourage, you guide you embrace, you never let go
one with my soul, one with my life one with me in the first breath one with me in the last
you know me now you will know me always and forever
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings lead us to consider how God is present in our lives, calling us to deeper spiritual awareness and vitality.
In Exodus 3, Moses has fled Egypt and taken up a new, uneventful life, working for his father-in-law, napping by the sheepfold in Midian.
Meanwhile, Moses was tending the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian.
The text makes no notation that Moses is contemplating the gravity of his past experiences, nor seeking spiritual meaning from them. As a matter of fact, the first three chapters of Exodus make little reference to God, except for God’s faithfulness to the resistant midwives who saved Moses’ life.
Left up to Moses, no great theophanic event would be recorded in Exodus. It would simply be a story about a Midian shepherd too scared to go back to his old hometown. It was God Who made the magic happen in Exodus, and oh, what magic it was!
We first have notice that God is about to act in the final verses of Exodus 2:
A long time passed (after Moses fled), during which the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned under their bondage and cried out, and from their bondage their cry for help went up to God. God heard their moaning and God was mindful of the covenant with Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. God saw the Israelites, and God knew….
Exodus 2: 23-25
Because God knew – and always knows – our sufferings and joys, God cares and is present to us in our lives. We are not always aware of that Divine Accompaniment, as perhaps Moses was unaware in his Midian field.
God woke Moses up with a burning bush. Then, by sharing his Name, God invited Moses to the deep spiritual intimacy which empowered him to act for God in the world.
God called out to him from the bush, “Moses! Moses!” He answered, “Here I am.” God said, “Come no nearer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place where you stand is holy ground. I am the God of your father,” he continued, “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob.”
I think, for most of us, God is often hidden in our circumstances. I know I haven’t found too many buring bushes along life’s road. So what’s the secret to that deep spiritual awarnessthat allows us to live always in God’s Presence?
Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel that the secret is innocence.
At that time Jesus exclaimed: “I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike.
Spiritual innocence is not childish or uniformed. It is not faultless or naïve. The childlike quality Jesus describes is guileless, trusting, open, and wise. It waits in prayer and reflection for God’s time and movement. It believes despite doubt, and hopes despite setback.
Humble Moses – murderer, exile, and loafer on his in-law’s farm – had this kind of innocence. Like a wick awaiting kindling, Moses’s innocent heart caught fire with God. After that there was never an unnoticed “bush” in his life. After all, every one of them might contain angels!
Poetry: excerpt from Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barret Browning
But man, the two-fold creature, apprehends
The two-fold manner, in and outwardly,
And nothing in the world comes single to him.
A mere itself,–cup, column, or candlestick,
All patterns of what shall be in the Mount;
The whole temporal show related royally,
And build up to eterne significance
Through the open arms of God. 'There's nothing great
Nor small,' has said a poet of our day,
(Whose voice will ring beyond the curfew of eve
And not be thrown out by the matin's bell)
And truly, I reiterate, . . nothing's small!
No lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee,
But finds some coupling with the spinning stars;
No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere;
No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim:
And,–glancing on my own thin, veined wrist,–
In such a little tremour of the blood
The whole strong clamour of a vehement soul
Doth utter itself distinct. Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God:
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it, and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware
More and more, from the first similitude.
Music: Burning Bush – Terrana and Manicardi
Burning bush You are,
glowing and endless love.
Living in Your midst,
to live by You,
to be alive in You.
This Fire does not consume
the essence of every person.
You show Yourself in creation
in all of the beauty,
that speaks and cries out Thee.
That You are Love
in a flower, in the waves of the sea,
in the dawn, in the song of a swan,
in a kiss of a child to his mother
in the farewell of a dying father.
You are Love
In a man who climbs the slope,
In a woman who chooses life,
In a star bursting with light,
In the forgiveness that brings pain.
You are earth, water, air and fire.
Earth, water, air and fire.
(Interlude)
Let’s take off our shoes
in front of so much love.
We need only to listen to
the beautiful, the good, the true,
That lies around us.
For it’s Love
In a flower, in the waves of the sea,
in the dawn, in the song of a swan,
in a kiss of a child to his mother
in the farewell of a dying father
It is Love
In a man who climbs the slope,
In a woman who chooses life,
In a star bursting with light,
In the forgiveness that costs pain
(Interlude)
repeat above
You are earth, water, air and fire
Earth, water, air and fire
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, silence plays a role in both our readings, but they are silences that differ profoundly from each other.
Moses in the Bulrushes – by Elizabeth Jane Gardner
In Exodus, we see the power of silent resistance to turn the tide of history. It is the resistance of righteousness.
Pharaoh, out of fear, has ordered all Hebrew boy babies drowned at birth. But Moses’s mother (Jochebed), aided by his sister (Miriam), silently resists.
A certain man of the house of Levi married a Levite woman, who conceived and bore a son. Seeing that he was a goodly child, she hid him for three months. When she could hide him no longer, she took a papyrus basket, daubed it with bitumen and pitch, and putting the child in it, placed it among the reeds on the river bank. His sister stationed herself at a distance to find out what would happen to him.
Her resistance, though silent, was nonetheless active. Look at all the intricate steps she took to assure the success of her plot.
The resistance cited in Matthew is of a different nature entirely. It reflects a hard heart not a determined heart. It is the resistance of indifference.
Christ Preaching at Capernaum – by Maurycy Gottlieb
Capernaum had become Jesus’s own home town. He had moved there as a young adult in order to begin his ministry after his own neighborhood had rejected him. But despite Jesus’s miracles and witness, Capernaum resisted the call of the Gospel:
Jesus began to reproach the towns where most of his mighty deeds had been done, since they had not repented.
And as for you, Capernaum:
Will you be exalted to heaven? You will go down to the netherworld.
For if the mighty deeds done in your midst had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom on the day of judgment than for you.
We might find ourselves anywhere in these stories. We all experience resistances within, around, and toward us – sometimes for good reasons, sometimes not. We just have to fill in the blank to imagine all the resistances we are capable of:
I tend to resist ______________________________.
What did you come up with? Maybe some of these?
change
work
quiet
commitment
injustice
direction
strangers
programming
affection
cronyism, and on and on and on……
Jesus wanted to break through the negative resistance of his dearest communities.
Jocebed and her courageous women companions used positive resistance to break through abusive domination.
In our spiritual lives, we must, by prayer and informed reflection, lower our resistance to God’s transforming Word.
We must, at the same time, assume our role in resisting the injustice and violence of our times. Like Jocebed, we might consider our precious world and its peoples as if they were our own children, threatened by fear-blinded tyranny. In that case, what determined steps would we be willing to take to preserve its sacred life?
Poetry: Rosa Parks by Nikki Giovanni
This is for the Pullman Porters who organized when people said they couldn’t. And carried the Pittsburgh Courier and the Chicago Defender to the Black Americans in the South so they would know they were not alone. This is for the Pullman Porters who helped Thurgood Marshall go south and come back north to fight the fight that resulted in Brown v. Board of Education because even though Kansas is west and even though Topeka is the birth- place of Gwendolyn Brooks, who wrote the powerful “The Chicago Defender Sends a Man to Little Rock,” it was the Pullman Porters who whispered to the traveling men both the Blues Men and the “Race” Men so that they both would know what was going on. This is for the Pullman Porters who smiled as if they were happy and laughed like they were tickled when some folks were around and who silently rejoiced in 1954 when the Supreme Court announced its 9—0 decision that “sepa- rate is inherently unequal.” This is for the Pullman Porters who smiled and welcomed a fourteen-year-old boy onto their train in 1955. They noticed his slight limp that he tried to disguise with a doo-wop walk; they noticed his stutter and probably understood why his mother wanted him out of Chicago during the summer when school was out. Fourteen-year-old Black boys with limps and stutters are apt to try to prove themselves in dangerous ways when mothers aren’t around to look after them. So this is for the Pullman Porters who looked over that fourteen-year-old while the train rolled the reverse of the Blues Highway from Chicago to St. Louis to Memphis to Mississippi. This is for the men who kept him safe; and if Emmett Till had been able to stay on a train all summer he would have maybe grown a bit of a paunch, certainly lost his hair, probably have worn bifocals and bounced his grand- children on his knee telling them about his summer riding the rails. But he had to get off the train. And ended up in Money, Mississippi. And was horribly, brutally, inexcusably, and unac- ceptably murdered. This is for the Pullman Porters who, when the sheriff was trying to get the body secretly buried, got Emmett’s body on the northbound train, got his body home to Chicago, where his mother said: I want the world to see what they did to my boy. And this is for all the mothers who cried. And this is for all the people who said Never Again. And this is about Rosa Parks whose feet were not so tired, it had been, after all, an ordi- nary day, until the bus driver gave her the opportunity to make history. This is about Mrs. Rosa Parks from Tuskegee, Alabama, who was also the field secretary of the NAACP. This is about the moment Rosa Parks shouldered her cross, put her worldly goods aside, was willing to sacrifice her life, so that that young man in Money, Mississippi, who had been so well protected by the Pullman Porters, would not have died in vain. When Mrs. Parks said “NO” a passionate movement was begun. No longer would there be a reliance on the law; there was a higher law. When Mrs. Parks brought that light of hers to expose the evil of the system, the sun came and rested on her shoulders bringing the heat and the light of truth. Others would follow Mrs. Parks. Four young men in Greensboro, North Carolina, would also say No. Great voices would be raised singing the praises of God and exhorting us “to forgive those who trespass against us.” But it was the Pullman Porters who safely got Emmett to his granduncle and it was Mrs. Rosa Parks who could not stand that death. And in not being able to stand it. She sat back down.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, as we continue with Matthew, we begin a nearly three-week engagement with the Book of Exodus. Our companion along the way will be Moses (and, on occasion, Charlton Heston).
The Book of Exodus, a literary masterpiece, has profoundly influenced religion and culture for over 3000 years. Finally written down about 300 years before Christ, it is a gathering of the rich oral traditions and salvation history of the Judea-Christian faith. A total of forty chapters, the Book can be divided into two key parts: the liberation from Egyptian enslavement and the formation of a new, life-giving Covenant with God.
The Book’s enduring influence can be ascribed to these two themes. They reflect the universal life cycles in all of nature and in each one of our lives. The totality of human culture as well as our individual biographies are stories of breaking forth from whatever binds us into the call and promise of fuller life.
Today’s chapter is an introduction or bridge from the time of Joseph, (when Israel thrived in Egypt), to just before the emergence of Moses, (when Israel suffered in Egypt).
A new king, who knew nothing of Joseph, came to power in Egypt. He said to his subjects, “Look how numerous and powerful the people of the children of Israel are growing, more so than we ourselves! Come, let us deal shrewdly with them to stop their increase; otherwise, in time of war they too may join our enemies to fight against us, and so leave our country.”
Accordingly, taskmasters were set over the children of Israel to oppress them with forced labor.
Exodus 1:8-11
The theme of suffering also anchors our passage from Matthew:
Jesus said to his Apostles: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword.
Matthew 10:34
The suffering imposed upon both “the children of Israel” and true disciples of Jesus generates from the same source – fear:
Pharaoh is afraid of what he will lose should the growing Israelite community turn on him.
The fear of losing one’s life in Christ inhibits the heart from true discipleship.
As we pray and study these next few weeks with the Book of Exodus, we may be moved to consider the fears both within and around us that prevent us from growing to fuller life.
Our world is full of the fears that induce violence and retribution. Our own spirits may be restrained with the fear of what we might lose by falling deeper into a Gospel life.
Our journey through Exodus offers us a time to consider and examine the fears we perceive. These fears may not necessarily be big spiritual impediments. They may be as simple as the fear of not being right, first, liked, included, or successful. But those very simple fears, left moldering in our hearts, are the seeds of the isolation, domination, and dissolution we see so rampant in our current culture.
Praying with Exodus, may we ask for courage to name and expose our personal and societal fears to God’s healing grace. We might begin with this thought from Paula D’Arcy:
Who would I be, and what power would be expressed in my life, if I were not dominated by fear?
Israel finally answered that question by coming into Covenant with God and Community with one another. The path is much the same for us in our lives.
Poetry: Immortality by Lisel Mueller
In Sleeping Beauty’s castle the clock strikes one hundred years and the girl in the tower returns to the world. So do the servants in the kitchen, who don’t even rub their eyes. The cook’s right hand, lifted an exact century ago, completes its downward arc to the kitchen boy’s left ear; the boy’s tensed vocal cords finally let go the trapped, enduring whimper, and the fly, arrested mid-plunge above the strawberry pie fulfills its abiding mission and dives into the sweet, red glaze. As a child I had a book with a picture of that scene. I was too young to notice how fear persists, and how the anger that causes fear persists, that its trajectory can’t be changed or broken, only interrupted. My attention was on the fly: that this slight body with its transparent wings and life-span of one human day still craved its particular share of sweetness, a century later.
Music: Fear is a Liar by Zach Williams – in this song, Williams images God as Fire, a Fire upon Whom we can cast our fears for a return of Love.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have three iconic readings from the rich store of Scripture. Any one of them, taken in itself, offers depths for study and prayer. As on all Sundays in the Liturgical Year, there is a theme that ties the readings together and helps us find entrance into their infinite wisdom.
Isaiah, in rich imagery, describes the generative power of God’s Word planted in us and in all Creation:
Thus says the LORD: Just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to the one who sows and bread to the one who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth;
Isaiah 55:10-11
For our second reading, Paul inspires us with one of his most magnificent passages – Romans 8:
All commentators agree that Romans 8 is something special. If Romans is a breathtaking landscape, this chapter is a majestic peak towering above its surroundings. … … Paul’s focus in this chapter is threefold: the divine work of the Spirit, the divine gift of sonship, and the divine purpose of suffering, each in relation to the practical realities of Christian living.
Scott W. Hahn – Romans (Catholic commentary on Sacred Scripture
In today’s verses, Paul describes Creation being transformed by the omnipotent Word foretold in Isaiah. As we read this passage, we must be mindful that we, our experiences, and our material world are the “creation” to which Paul refers:
For creation awaits with eager expectation the revelation of the children of God; for creation was made subject to futility, not of its own accord but because of the one who subjected it, in hope that creation itself would be set free from slavery to corruption and share in the glorious freedom of the children of God.
Romans 8:9-21
Indeed, we experience that worldly “futility” every day in our own bodies and in the body of the universe. Life, both within and around us, may sometimes feel like an barren field longing for tillage and rain. We yearn for the healing, wholeness, and fulfillment that Paul calls “the glorious freedom of the children of God”.
In our Gospel, Jesus tells us that this fulfillment will come only through a spiritual patience and discipline like that of the sower sowing his seed. In this detailed parable, Jesus clearly equates effective “seeding” to receptive hearing of the Word.
For God’s harvest to be accomplished in us, we must hear the Word as described in Isaiah, and act in hope as described in Paul. We can do this in two ways:
by our prayerful, informed study of the Scriptures
our merciful action for the healing of suffering Creation.
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 13:9
Poetry: God Speaks to Each of Us – Rainer Maria Rilke
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me.
Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, both our readings express the character of farewells or life testaments.
In our first reading, we close out our few weeks’ journey through Genesis with Jacob’s instructions to his posterity. These directives attach his passing and their future to Israel’s ancestral roots:
Jacob gave his sons this charge: “Since I am about to be taken to my people, bury me with my fathers in the cave that lies in the field of Ephron the Hittite, the cave in the field of Machpelah, facing on Mamre, in the land of Canaan, the field that Abraham bought from Ephron the Hittite for a burial ground.
Genesis 49:29-30
Reading these verses, I remembered two sets of similar instructions that I had once received.
The first set was given to me and my brother.
Our beloved mother had just died after a few months’ illness. We were about the business of preparing for her burial. Our family storage systems were very simple but definite. Confident that no thief would want to do any tailoring while burglarizing the house, we kept important documents in an old tin sewing box. Jim and I knew the cemetery deed would be there, top shelf of the living room closet, under a couple of afghans.
What we didn’t know was that Mom, never much for sad or purple prose, had left us a letter in that box. The letter, penned in a strong hand, anticipated her death and counseled us for a future without her. Surprisingly, her letter had been written long before her terminal diagnosis, prompted no doubt by my Dad’s sudden death about a decade before.
Mom was brief but direct in her hopes and instructions, the core of which was this:
Know that I loved the two of you more than anything in the world. Love and care for each other when I am gone.
The second set of instructions was not the fruit of a bloodline inheritance, but of a spiritual one: my call to Mercy. My dear sponsor, realizing at my Silver Jubilee that the years were passing for us both, offered this wisdom so typical of her direct and good-natured style:
In our Gospel, Jesus anticipates a time when his disciples will be without his guiding presence. Like Jacob, and like my Mom and my sponsor, Jesus wants his beloved descendants to recognize, and find courage in, the amazing love which is their inheritance.
Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows. Everyone who acknowledges me before others I will acknowledge before my heavenly Father.
Matthew 10:29-32
As we pray with today’s scriptures, we might give thanks for the blessings we have received from our ancestors, be they of blood or spirit.
Further, we might prayerfully consider those who need and deserve our blessing as they assume the future we will not see — our children, nieces, nephews, sisters and brothers in religious formation — any number of disciples and pupils who look to us for hopeful and grateful witness.
Poetry: My Legacy – Lucy Maude Montgomery Lucy Maud Montgomery OBE (1874 – 1942), was a Canadian author best known for a collection of novels, essays, short stories, and poetry beginning in 1908 with Anne of Green Gables.
My friend has gone away from me From shadow into perfect light, But leaving a sweet legacy.
My heart shall hold it long in fee A grand ideal, calm and bright, A song of hope for ministry,
A faith of unstained purity, A thought of beauty for delight These did my friend bequeath to me;
And, more than even these can be, The worthy pattern of a white, Unmarred life lived most graciously.
Dear comrade, loyal thanks to thee Who now hath fared beyond my sight, My friend has gone away from me, But leaving a sweet legacy.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our Gospel describes the suffering to be encountered by disciples as they live and preach the Gospel.
Jesus said to his Apostles: “Behold, I am sending you like sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and simple as doves. But beware of men, for they will hand you over to courts and scourge you in their synagogues, and you will be led before governors and kings for my sake as a witness before them and the pagans.
Matthew 10:16-18
The suffering is predicted to come from many quarters, but perhaps the most heart-breaking is persecutioin within families:
Brother will hand over brother to death, and the father his child; children will rise up against parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by all because of my name, but whoever endures to the end will be saved.
Matthew 10:21-22
Our reading from Genesis, on the other hand, describes the loving resolution of a long-standing family rupture as Jacob (now called “Israel”) reunites with his long-lost son:
Israel had sent Judah ahead to Joseph, so that he might meet him in Goshen. On his arrival in the region of Goshen, Joseph hitched the horses to his chariot and rode to meet his father Israel in Goshen. As soon as Joseph saw him, he flung himself on his neck and wept a long time in his arms. And Israel said to Joseph, “At last I can die, now that I have seen for myself that Joseph is still alive.”
Genesis 46:28-30
Many of us have borne the pain of similar fractures in our various “families”: family of origin, community, church or friends. Sometimes the cause of these breaks may be contradictions in faith and moral practice. At other times, loving bonds break because of willfulness, arrogance, ignorance, small-heartedness or the many other forms of human limitation.
The outrageous jealousy of Joseph’s brothers cleft their otherwise contented family. But into that chasm, God poured time’s grace and Joseph’s healing. From these gifts, Joseph was able to step into reconciliation, inviting his repentant brothers to join him.
In our own lives, such a step can be inordinately huge. The longer we hesitate to take it, the more it widens, sometimes to the point of apparent no return. But the grace of forgiveness is always available to us even if actual reconciliation is impossible because of the recalcitrance, inaccessibility, or perhaps even death of the other party.
When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak or what you are to say. You will be given at that moment what you are to say. For it will not be you who speak but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you.
Matthew 10:19-20
Psalm Poem: Psalm 37 – interpreted by Christine Robinson
The evil prosper, but don’t you wallow in anger. Do what you can and let it go. Remember the long arc of the universe and how it bends towards justice. Set your feet on that path; it is True.
Be still. Wait for God’s word to speak to your heart. Enjoy your life as it is, find your work, love those around you. Hold your head up and teach your children.
Notice those who are honest. Join the upright Make peace where you can Trust in God.
Music: excerpts from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat – Andrew Llyod Webber
These two videos capture the story of Jacob’s arrival in Egypt and Joseph’s self-reconciliation. The first ends rather abruptly, but thesecond picks up the action. All lyrics are below.
[NARRATOR] Joseph knew by this his brothers now were honest men The time had come at last to reunite them all again
[JOSEPH] Can’t you recognize my face? Is it hard to see That Joseph, who you thought was dead, your brother It’s me?
[ENESMBLE] Joseph, Joseph, is it really true? Joseph, Joseph, is it really you?
[NARRATOR & ENESMBLE] Joseph! Joseph!
——————-
So Jacob came to Egypt No longer feeling old And Joseph came to meet him In his chariot of gold Of gold Of gold Of gold!
————-
[JOSEPH] I closed my eyes, drew back the curtain To see for certain what I thought I knew Far, far away, someone was weeping But the world was sleeping Any dream will do
[JOSEPH & CHILDREN] I wore my coat with golden lining Bright colors shining, wonderful and new And in the east, the dawn was breaking And the world was waking Any dream will do A crash of drums
[NARRATOR] A flash of light
[JOSEPH] My golden coat flew out of sight
[JOSEPH & NARRATOR] The colors faded into darkness I was left alone
[JOSEPH, NARRATOR & CHILDREN] May I return to the beginning? The light is dimming, and the dream is too The world and I, we are still waiting Still hesitating Any dream will do
Joseph Forgives His Brothers – Joseph Von Cornelius
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Joseph forgives his brothers and Jesus commissions his disciples.
The story of Joseph’s forgiveness makes a tender and indelible mark on the prayerful reader. How we wish we could be as magnanimous as Joseph in our forbearance!
Joseph’s experience is one of a long-held hurt that he sets aside to pursue another life. But even though he achieves tremendous success in his new environment, hurts like this are never forgotten. Joseph’s sobs at verse four indicate the painful memory’s depth.
Joseph could no longer control himself in the presence of all his attendants, so he cried out, “Have everyone withdraw from me!” Thus no one else was about when he made himself known to his brothers. But his sobs were so loud that the Egyptians heard him, and so the news reached Pharaoh’s palace. “I am Joseph,” he said to his brothers. “Is my father still in good health?” But his brothers could give him no answer, so dumbfounded were they at him.
Genesis 45:1-3
“To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.”
Lewis B. Smedes
So many lessons can be drawn from this passage, but clearly the power of forgiveness is most evident. Joseph has been able to live a fruitful life in Egypt because he has already forgiven his brothers’ treachery, long before they unexpectedly arrive at his palace doorstep. He has chosen not to live under the burden of their treacherous choice.
In the wider perspective of God’s timing, we see that the treachery actually yielded a blessing not only for Joseph, but for all of Israel. We ask for the grace to see how our own need to give and receive forgiveness holds a larger blessing for our lives.
Poetry: Let It Go – e.e.cummings
Let it go – the smashed word broken open vow or the oath cracked length wise – let it go it was sworn to go
let them go – the truthful liars and the false fair friends and the boths and neithers – you must let them go they were born to go
let all go – the big small middling tall bigger really the biggest and all things – let all go dear
so comes love
Music: Remember Not the Things of the Past– Bob Hurd
Remember not the things of the past; now I do something new, do you not see it? Now I do something new, says the Lord.
In our distress God has grasped us by the hand, opened a path in the sea, and we shall pass over, we shall pass over, free at last.
In our parched land of hypocrisy and hate, God makes a river spring forth, a river of mercy, truth and compassion; come and drink.
And who among us is sinless in God’s sight? Then who will cast the first stone, when he who was sinless carried our failings to the cross?
Pressing ahead, letting go what lies behind, may we be found in the Lord, and sharing his dying, share in his rising from the dead.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have the stories of two sets of twelve men:
Joseph and his brothers, heads of the twelve tribes of Israel (Reuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, Dan, Naphtali, Gad, Asher, Issachar, Zebulun, Joseph, and Benjamin)
the twelve Apostles chosen by Jesus (Simon Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James, Thaddeus, Simon, Judas)
Joseph Oversees Egypt’s Granaries – Lawrence Alma-Tadema
Each of these pillars of the Judea-Christian tradition had their individual faith stories which have called generations either to imitate or contradict them. We want to be like faithful, fumbling Peter but not like clever, devious Judas. We abhor the muderous jealousy of the 10 brothers, but admire the generous forgiveness of Joseph.
These ageless stories present us with the mysterious beauty of the Scriptures which allow us to find our best and worst selves within them. But more significantly, beyond mirroring all human experience, these stories reflect God’s abiding Presence in the unfolding of human and individual history.
The Joseph narrative, which we have a small part of today, presents a whole new way of looking at God’s relationship with Israel. God is not an overt actor in the narrative as in the early Pentateuch accounts, but rather the hidden Agency in a long and sustained drama.
(The Joseph narrative) urges that in the contingencies of history, the purposes of God are at work in hidden and unnoticed ways. But the ways of God are nonetheless reliable and will come to fruition…. The purposes of God are not wrought here by abrupt action or by (heavenly) intrusions, but by the ways of the world which seem to be natural and continuous.
Walter Brueggemann: Genesis, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching
As I read Bruggemann’s commentary, I think of the many times my religious community has come together for story-telling during a Sister’s funeral rites. Within an inspirational hour, the extended history of this Sister’s life is gathered into a powerful statement reflecting both God’s and her long fidelity.
As in Joseph’s story, God has not spoken aloud, but has spoken nonetheless clearly, in and through each remembered life. The grateful community is left in quiet and joyful awe at the end of each ritual, amazed and convinced that God is silently present in every person’s story, even one’s own.
Today’s Responsorial Psalm may capture our sentiments as we consider our own lives in the light of today’s readings. We can take great comfort in the belief that, in the eternal design, all things come to wholeness for those who trust God.
The LORD brings to nought the plans of nations; and foils the designs of peoples. But the plan of the LORD stands forever; the design of God’s heart, through all generations.
Psalm 33:10-11
Poetry: The Thread of Life – Christina Rossetti
The irresponsive silence of the land, The irresponsive sounding of the sea, Speak both one message of one sense to me: — Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand Thou too aloof bound with the flawless band Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? What heart shall touch thy heart? what hand thy hand?— And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek, And sometimes I remember days of old When fellowship seemed not so far to seek And all the world and I seemed much less cold, And at the rainbow's foot lay surely gold, And hope felt strong and life itself not weak.
2
Thus am I mine own prison. Everything Around me free and sunny and at ease: Or if in shadow, in a shade of trees Which the sun kisses, where the gay birds sing And where all winds make various murmuring; Where bees are found, with honey for the bees; Where sounds are music, and where silences Are music of an unlike fashioning. Then gaze I at the merrymaking crew, And smile a moment and a moment sigh Thinking: Why can I not rejoice with you ? But soon I put the foolish fancy by: I am not what I have nor what I do; But what I was I am, I am even I.
3
Therefore myself is that one only thing I hold to use or waste, to keep or give; My sole possession every day I live, And still mine own despite Time's winnowing. Ever mine own, while moons and seasons bring From crudeness ripeness mellow and sanative; Ever mine own, till Death shall ply his sieve; And still mine own, when saints break grave and sing. And this myself as king unto my King I give, to Him Who gave Himself for me; Who gives Himself to me, and bids me sing A sweet new song of His redeemed set free; He bids me sing: O death, where is thy sting? And sing: O grave, where is thy victory?
Music: Air on the G String – J.S.Bach, played by Hauser
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Jacob wrestles with an angel and Jesus cures a man muted by demons.
Jesus Cures a Deaf Mute – Tissot Jacob Wrestles with an Angel – Bonnat
Thinking of these two figures this morning, I was reminded of one of my all-time most influential books, “Womanspirit Rising“. In the late 1970s, I first read this now classic anthology of feminist theology. It changed the whole framework of how I saw the world.
A key concept in the collection is a phrase written by theologian Nelle Morton which describes how women, despite the obstructions of patriarchy, can help one another to self-realization by practicing deep listening to one another. Morton calls this ministry:
“hearing one another into speech”
The point is that when our pain and struggles are truly listened to, we can begin to name and explore our own healing.
I think this is exactly what Jesus did for the man muted by demons. Jesus heard this man’s pain before the man could speak it. The Spirit of Jesus was one so attuned to all Creation that he could hear the “Sound beyond sound” within this man’s suffering.
Jesus’ unspoken response to the speechless man is the same that he offers to all of us …. Infinite, Lavish Mercy:
At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved to breaking for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.
Matthew 9:32-36
In our Genesis passage, Jacob is fighting his own form of “demons” — one that, in this case, turns out to be an angel, a giver of blessing!
Some man wrestled with him until the break of dawn. When the man saw that he could not prevail over him, he struck Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the hip socket was wrenched as they wrestled. The man then said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” The man asked, “What is your name?” He answered, “Jacob.” Then the man said, “You shall no longer be spoken of as Jacob, but as Israel, because you have contended with divine and human beings and have prevailed.”
Genesis 32:25-29
The entire night’s struggle is executed in silence. It is not until dawn that the combatants speak. Like the Gosple mute, Jacob’s true self is liberated by a silent hearing. As a result, he is blessed with a new identity and a new name – “Israel”.
When we were very young nuns, our Mistress of Postulants was filled with unexpected, old-fashioned wisdom. For example, her recommendation to our vocational doubts was to “sleep on them”. She counseled that “everything looks better in the morning.” Simplistic though it may have sounded, she was right!
Some of the turbulent adjustments, which could not be articulated in the dark hours, found expression and resolve in morning light – when we could see one another clearly and listen heartily to each other’s confusions. Such listening helped to either evaporate the troubles or to suggest a clear path through them.
That early experience was a simple time for me of growing in self-understanding. But it offered a more complex truth – that, not only we, but all the suffering world needs to be “heard into speech“. This is the work of Mercy as we see it so tenderly expressed in today’s Gospel.
In such times of deep listening and new naming, the God of miracles is with us. These times in our lives can help us become deep listeners to the world’s pain, re-christeners of the world’s hope, humble architects of God’s tender design for our wholeness:
For Professor Nelle Morton, the hearing to speech is not just a human phenomenon, but one that occurs because of a prior divine hearing and listening. We are able to hear one another into speech (and thus, perhaps, into full humanity) because we are first heard by “a prior great Listening Ear . . . an ear that hears . . . our own”
Dr. Elaine Graham – Professor of Social and Pastoral Theology at the University of Manchester.
Poetry: Listening – from Rumi
What is the deep listening? Sama is
a greeting from the secret ones inside
the heart, a letter. The branches of your intelligence grow new leaves in
the wind of this listening. The body reaches a peace. Rooster sound comes,
reminding you of your love for dawn. The reed flute and the singer's lips:
the knack of how spirit breathes into us becomes as simple and ordinary as
eating and drinking. The dead rise with the pleasure of listening. If someone
can't hear a trumpet melody, sprinkle dirt on his head and declare him dead.
Listen, and feel the beauty of your separation, the unsayable absence.
There's a moon inside every human being. Learn to be companions with it. Give
more of your life to this listening. As brightness is to time, so you are to
the one who talks to the deep ear in your chest. I should sell my tongue
and buy a thousand ears when that one steps near and begins to speak.
Lavish Mercy 