Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have two beautiful readings to enrich our prayer.
In our first reading, Paul blesses and encourages his young disciple Timothy. Reminding Timothy of his faith heritage, received from his mother and grandmother, Paul inspires Timothy to live a spiritually courageous life:
I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control. So do not be ashamed of your testimony to our Lord, nor of me, a prisoner for his sake; but bear your share of hardship for the Gospel with the strength that comes from God.
2 Timothy 1: 6-8
Praying with this passage, we can look both back and forward – to those who have encouraged our faith, and to those who depend on us for edification.
In our Gospel, Jesus paints a picture for his disciples of what the Kingdom of Heaven is like. This is a realm in which we already live – the eternal universe of the Creator’s love and grace. But our time-bound eyes can’t see that world clearly. It is more real than our physical world, but perceptible only to the awakened spirit.
Jesus tries to explain this “kingdom” to his followers. He says that like the growth of a seed, this world is a sacred mystery whose energy is generated by God, not by us:
This is how it is with the Kingdom of God; it is as if someone were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and rise night and day and the seed would sprout and grow, they know not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, they wield the sickle at once, for the harvest has come.
Mark 4: 26-29
Paul and Jesus encouraged their followers to live in joyous alignment with this Divine Order – the “Kingdom of God”, as scripture calls it. In our prayer today, let’s listen to their counsel, for it is meant for us as well.
Poetry: Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower – Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
“Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you. Let this darkness be a bell tower and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength. Move back and forth into the change. What is it like, such intensity of pain? If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night, be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses, the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you, say to the silent earth: I flow. To the rushing water, speak: I am.”
Music: Lamb of God – from the Mass of St. Timothy – Matt Maher
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we have the thrilling story of the conversion of St. Paul.
“On that journey as I drew near to Damascus, about noon a great light from the sky suddenly shone around me. I fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to me, ‘Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?’ I replied, ‘Who are you, sir?’ And he said to me, ‘I am Jesus the Nazorean whom you are persecuting.’
Acts of the Apostles 22; 6-8
God was not subtle with Paul! And it’s a good thing because Paul wasn’t subtle. He was the kind of guy who lived on the edge of life, always pushing the limits of his existence. He reminds me of a spiritual “Evel Knievel”.
God had to make a real impression in order to get Paul’s attention and turn his life around. When a lightning bolt knocks you off your horse, you tend to notice!
Our Gospel summarizes Jesus’s choice of his twelve apostles. Again, there was some pretty dramatic divine intervention used to get these men to take heed:
Andrew heard a voice from the sky sanctify Jesus’s Baptism in the Jordan
Nathaniel was miraculously observed under the fig tree
Peter and his fishing buddies caught an incredible, net-breaking haul
Philip asked, “What’s for dinner?’ and got twelve baskets of leftovers
Thomas placed his fingers in the resurrected wounds
Matthew got the grace to make an astounding career change
and John, in the first Eucharistic moment, rested his ear against God’s heart
God’s daily call to us may come in softer garments. We all have a few dramatic moments in our lives, when we must grasp our faith to make it through. But for the most part, life may seem hypnotizingly ordinary. Our readings today encourage us to pay attention to grace — to open ourselves to God’s eternal promptings even in their ordinary costumes. Every sunrise offers such an invitation. How blessed we are when we recognize them!
Poetry: The Conversion of St. Paul – Christopher Smart (1722-1771)
Each line in he poem refers to a miracle in the scriptures. The son of Nun was Joshua who opens the poem.
Thro ' him, the chief, begot by Nun, Controul'd the progress of the sun; The shadow too, through him, retir'd The ten degrees it had acquir'd.
The barren could her fruit afford, The woman had her dead restor'd, The statesman could himself demean To seek the river, and be clean.
At his command, ev'n Christ I Am, The cruse was fill'd, and iron swam; The floods were dry'd to make a track, And Jordan's wave was driven back.
All these in ancient days occurr'd, The great atchievements of the Word, By Joshua's hand, by Moses' rod, By virtue of the men of God.
But greater is the mighty deed To make a profligate recede, And work a boist'rous madman mild, To walk with Jesus like a child.
To give a heart of triple steel The Lord's humanity to feel; And there, where pity had no place, To fill the measure of his grace;
To wash internal blackness white, To call the worse than dead to light; To make the fruitless soil to hold Ten thousand times ten thousand fold.
To turn a servant of the times From modish and ambitious crimes; To pour down a resistless blaze, ‘Go, persecutor, preach and praise.’
Video: Instead of music today, I’ve included this video analysis of Caravaggio’s painting “The Conversion of St. Paul on the Road to Damascus”. It is one of at least two paintings by Caravaggio on the same subject. The other famous painting, “The Conversion of St. Paul” is seen at the top of this blog post.
I found that the video spoke to both art appreciation and spirituality. I hope you enjoy it.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, Jesus tells us the parable of the sower and the seed.
And he taught them at length in parables, and in the course of his instruction he said to them, “Hear this! A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seed fell on the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Other seed fell on rocky ground where it had little soil. It sprang up at once because the soil was not deep. And when the sun rose, it was scorched and it withered for lack of roots. Some seed fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked it and it produced no grain. And some seed fell on rich soil and produced fruit. It came up and grew and yielded thirty, sixty, and a hundredfold.” He added, “Whoever has ears to hear ought to hear.”
Mark 4: 2-9
How many times have we heard or read this passage over the years? Maybe so many times that we’ve become a little impervious to it. Maybe we can hear something too much.
For example, as a group of us watched the 76ers basketball game last night, the commercials seemed endless. At one point Anne Marie asked me, “Would you ever buy that?”. Although I was staring at the commercial, I had no idea what it was saying. I had tuned it out and was looking right through it!
Here’s the thing: I could hear the commercial, but I wasn’t listening to it.
I think it’s like that with today’s parable and other scripture passages as well.
We’re probably not farmers. If you’re like me, the best you’ve done is to plant an orange seed in a ten-cent flower pot when you were kindergartners! So the parable might not catch our hearts when we hear it for the 100th time unless we have learned to listen as well as hear!
But when we listen to this parable we might realize that, maybe, for us:
the seed fell on the path and got devoured by birds that time when we let up on our dedicated prayer time and took up some useless distraction
the seed fell on rocky ground when we failed to study a politically charged issue in the light of the Gospel and instead got caught in a media-spun theory
the seed fell among thorns when we allowed our morality to be influenced by gossip, cheap judgments, self-serving agendas, or biased opinion
the seed fell on rich ground when we gave our spirits quiet time, prayer, good spiritual reading, the companionship of graced friends, and all the other holy kindnesses that can make us better persons
As I write this blog, it’s so cold where I live that, unless you had a jackhammer, you couldn’t even plant a seed. We don’t want our hearts to be like that. We want supple hearts, ready for the amazing graces God scatters over our lives daily. Let’s do the work to be ready.
Poetry: The Sower – William Cowper (1731 – 1800) was an English poet and Anglican hymnwriter.
One of the most popular poets of his time, Cowper changed the direction of 18th-century nature poetry by writing of everyday life and scenes of the English countryside. In many ways, he was one of the forerunners of Romantic poetry. Samuel Taylor Coleridge called him “the best modern poet”, whilst William Wordsworth particularly admired his poem “Yardley-Oak”.
Cowper’s religious sentiment and association with John Newton (who wrote the hymn “Amazing Grace”) led to much of the poetry for which he is best remembered, and to the series of Olney Hymns. His poem “Light Shining out of Darkness” gave English the phrase: “God moves in a mysterious way/ His wonders to perform.” (Wikipedia)
Ye child of earth prepare the plough, Break up your fallow ground; The sower is gone forth to sow, And scatter blessings round.
The seed that finds a stony soil Shoots forth a hasty blade; But ill repays the sower's toil, Soon wither'd, scorch'd, and dead.
The thorny ground is sure to balk All hopes of harvest there; We find a tall and sickly stalk, But not the fruitful ear.
The beaten path and highway side, Receive the trust in vain; The watchful birds the spoil divide, And pick up all the grain.
But where the Lord of grace and power Has bless'd the happy field, How plenteous is the golden store The deep-wrought furrows yield!
Father of mercies, we have need Of thy preparing grace; Let the same Hand that give me seed Provide a fruitful place!
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy Mercy, vigorous, grace-filled David dances with abandon before the Lord. It is a beautiful moment to imagine!
David went to bring up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom into the City of David amid festivities. As soon as the bearers of the ark of the LORD had advanced six steps, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. Then David, girt with a linen apron, came dancing before the LORD with abandon, as he and all the house of Israel were bringing up the ark of the LORD with shouts of joy and to the sound of the horn.
2 Samuel 6: 12-15
David dances with unselfconscious joy because he has brought the Presence of God home to the heart of the community. The joy comes from recognizing that God wants to be with the People. This joy, inexpressible in words, takes the form of a dance with the Spirit of God.
Let’s pause today with that dancing image, to consider all the ways God longs to dance with us throughout our lives, and we with God — dances of both:
joy and sorrow, faith and questioning, hope and shadow
… dances in which we must abandon ourselves to the moment’s sacred music and respond to God’s mysterious, leading step.
Whatever the emotion we bring to prayer, what matters is only that we carry it close to God’s heart, listening to our circumstances for the Divine Heartbeat. We may not be the “Fred Astaire” or “Ginger Rodgers” of prayer, but each one of us has a holy dance somewhere in their heart.
I think our children can teach us something about this kind of uninhibited prayer – one filled with trust, hope, joy, and innocence.
Poetry: T. S. Eliot
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless; Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, ~ T.S. Eliot
A second lovely poem, even though it is not Easter 🙂
Easter Exultet
Shake out your qualms. Shake up your dreams. Deepen your roots. Extend your branches.
Trust deep water and head for the open, even if your vision shipwrecks you.
Quit your addiction to sneer and complain. Open a lookout. Dance on a brink.
Run with your wildfire. You are closer to glory leaping an abyss than upholstering a rut.
Not dawdling. Not doubting. Intrepid all the way Walk toward clarity.
At every crossroad Be prepared to bump into wonder. Only love prevails.
Enroute to disaster insist on canticles. Lift your ineffable out of the mundane.
Nothing perishes; nothing survives; everything transforms! Honeymoon with Big Joy! ~ James Broughton
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings place us at watershed moments in the lives of David and Jesus.
All the tribes of Israel came to David in Hebron and said: “Here we are, your bone and your flesh. In days past, when Saul was our king, it was you who led the children of Israel out and brought them back. And the LORD said to you, ‘You shall shepherd my people Israel and shall be commander of Israel.’” When all the elders of Israel came to David in Hebron, King David made an agreement with them there before the LORD, and they anointed him king of Israel.
2 Samuel 5:1-4
In 2 Samuel 5, David fully assumes the kingship through the approbation of the community. The scene marks the culmination of his rise to power and “the beginning of the rest of his life”.
Through our readings in Samuel until now, we have ascended with David to the pinnacle of his life. We are about to begin weeks of moving down “the other side of the mountain”.
Scholars generally see the David narrative in two primary units, the Rise of David (I Sam. 16:1—II Sam. 5:10) and the Succession Narrative (II Sam. 9:1—20:26; I Kings 1:1—2:46). Chapters 5:11—8:18, fall between two larger units. Whereas the first presents David in his ascendancy, the second presents David in his demise and expresses pathos and ambiguity. Our chapters thus come after the raw vitality of the rise of David and before the terrible pathos of the succession narrative. They show the painful process whereby this beloved chieftain is transformed into a hardened monarch, who now has more power than popular affection.
Walter Brueggemann: First and Second Samuel
In our Gospel, Jesus also comes to a sort of “continental divide”. But rather than community approbation, Jesus encounters the condemnation of the scribes who have come from Jerusalem to assess him.
The scribes who had come from Jerusalem said of Jesus, “He is possessed by Beelzebul,” and “By the prince of demons he drives out demons.”
Mark 3: 22
From this moment in his life, Jesus too launches into his “kingship”, one that looks very different from David’s. The ensuing chapters of Samuel will reveal how David struggles and succumbs to the temptations of power and domination. The Gospels, on the other hand, describe Jesus’s “kingdom” as one of humility, mercy, and love for those who are poor and suffering.
Only through faith can we understand the inverse power of God present in the Life, Death and Resurrection of Jesus, and in our own lives. Jesus, the “new David”, is anointed in the Spirit to reveal and incorporate us into the kingdom of God.
Prose: from Immanuel Jakobovits who was the Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth from 1967 to 1991.
To those without faith there are no answers. To those with faith, there are no questions.
Music: King David, music by Herbert Howells, sung by Sarah Connolly from a poem by Walter de la Mare
King David – Walter de la Mare
King David was a sorrowful man: No cause for his sorrow had he; And he called for the music of a hundred harps, To ease his melancholy.
They played till they all fell silent: Played-and play sweet did they; But the sorrow that haunted the heart of King David They could not charm away.
He rose; and in his garden Walked by the moon alone, A nightingale hidden in a cypress-tree Jargoned on and on.
King David lifted his sad eyes Into the dark-boughed tree- ''Tell me, thou little bird that singest, Who taught my grief to thee?'
But the bird in no wise heeded And the king in the cool of the moon Hearkened to the nightingale's sorrowfulness, Till all his own was gone.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, each of our readings speaks to us of time.
The concept of time has always fascinated me. I remember being aware of the fascination as a very little girl walking beside my mother and aunt along the Wildwood boardwalk arcade.
Some of you who live locally may remember the spot, an extension of the seaside boardwalk at Oak Avenue. Its main attractions were bumper cars and a booth where little piglets ran along a path, picking a random door that, for a nickel, might earn you a stuffed animal.
On that particular summer day, about 1950, there was a new booth – Miranda, the Fortune Teller. Miranda read Tarot cards, an exercise Mom and Aunt Peg were unfamiliar with. Nevertheless, they decided to try it, and each went separately into the tiny veiled room to learn her future as I stood completely entranced by the piglet race.
Later, as the three of us sauntered side-by-side in the salted air, I heard Aunt Peg ask Mom, “Did she tell you how old you will be when you die?”. My ears leaped to attention! What? My mom could die???? And that lady knew when????
I heard my thirty-three year old mother answer, “She said when I am seventy-two.”
“Oh, God! How soon is that?”, I wondered. My little five-year-old mind tried to calculate the expanse of time but failed. However, the prediction planted itself inextricably in my heart.
Decades later, when Mom did pass away (just before her 72nd year) the memory returned to me. And the nearly forty years in between seemed compressed into an incomprehensible moment that had passed as quickly as that sweet seaside breeze.
How many times do we ask the Universe this unanswerable question, “Where did the time go?” It is a question that has a thousand answers and no answer, much like the question, “Who is God?”.
In our readings today, Jonah, Paul, and John the Baptist want us to think about time in relationship to God.
For Jonah, time is captured in the forty days of grace to seek repentance.
For Paul, time – in the worldly sense – is running out, requiring us to turn our attention to eternity.
For Jesus, it is the time of fulfillment – a fulfillment that can be achieved by living the Gospel.
Praying with today’s readings, we might ask ourselves, “What time is it for me?
Are there places in my life requiring “repentance“, a turning of my heart away from selfishness and toward the mercy of God?
Do I need to widen my perspective with a deeper awareness of eternal rather than worldly values?
Am I making a choice every day to live a life patterned on the Gospel?
Poetry: Endless Time – Rabindranath Tagore
Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. There is none to count thy minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers. Thou knowest how to wait.
Thy centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose, and having no time we must scramble for a chance. We are too poor to be late.
And thus it is that time goes by while I give it to every querulous person who claims it, and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest thy gate be shut; but I find that yet, with you, there is always time.
Music: What’s It All About, Alfie? – written by Burt Bacharach, sung by Dionne Warwick this modern song seems to deal with the timeless questions.
What’s it all about Alfie Is it just for the moment we live
What’s it all about When you sort it out, Alfie Are we meant to take more than we give Or are we meant to be kind?
And if, if only fools are kind, Alfie Then I guess it is wise to be cruel And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie What will you lend on an old golden rule?
As sure as I believe there’s a heaven above Alfie, I know there’s something much more Something even non-believers can believe in
I believe in love, Alfie Without true love we just exist, Alfie Until you find the love you’ve missed You’re nothing, Alfie
When you walk let your heart lead the way And you’ll find love any day Alfie, Alfie
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings center on the themes of grief, honor, and mercy.
In the passage from 2 Samuel, Saul has been killed in battle. The news is brought to David by a scheming Amalekite who (later verses reveal) hopes to profit from his enterprise. He has stripped Saul’s dead body of its kingly insignia, obsequiously depositing it at David’s feet. The messenger expects David’s vengeful rejoicing and a hefty reward.
Instead David, with reverence and honor appropriate to a future king, launches a deep public mourning for Saul and Jonathan. It is a bereavement necessary to both cleanse and heal the community’s heart from all the strife leading up to it.
David seized his garments and rent them, and all the men who were with him did likewise. They mourned and wept and fasted until evening for Saul and his son Jonathan, and for the soldiers of the LORD of the clans of Israel, because they had fallen by the sword.
2 Samuel 1:11-12
David’s lament is profound; it is ”splancha”, sprung from his innards, like the anguish Jesus felt for the suffering persons he encountered, as described in our Gospel.
A callous or indifferent heart cannot comprehend such pathos. Seeing it in Jesus, even his relatives thought him insane!
Jesus came with his disciples into the house. Again the crowd gathered, making it impossible for them even to eat. When his relatives heard of this they set out to seize him, for they said, “He is out of his mind.”
Mark 3: 20-21
Our God is a God of boundless love and impractical mercy. David models a bit of that godliness. Jesus is its complete Incarnation.
Poetry: Talking to Grief – Denise Levertov
Ah, Grief, I should not treat you like a homeless dog who comes to the back door for a crust, for a meatless bone. I should trust you.
I should coax you into the house and give you your own corner, a worn mat to lie on, your own water dish.
You think I don't know you've been living under my porch. You long for your real place to be readied before winter comes. You need your name, your collar and tag. You need the right to warn off intruders, to consider my house your own and me your person and yourself my own dog.
Music: Lascia Ch’io Pianga (Let Me Weep)- Georg Frideric Handel – a single piece of beautiful music today in two version, an aria and an instrumental interpretation.
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, David spares Saul’s life even though Saul is in murderous pursuit of him. (Here is a video for kids featuring the moment. But I thought it was pretty cool. Maybe you will too.)
Is David noble or naïve? Is he magnanimous or stupid? As I pray this morning, I ask myself what it is that God might be saying to me through this passage.
Two things rise up:
Above all else, David is motivated by a deep respect for God’s Will and Presence in his life.
David said to his men, “The LORD forbid that I should do such a thing to my master, the LORD’s anointed, as to lay a hand on him, for he is the LORD’s anointed.”
1 Samuel 24:7
2. David engages Saul directly and respectfully in the hope of reaching a resolution of their issues.
When David finished saying these things to Saul, Saul answered, “Is that your voice, my son David?” And Saul wept aloud.
1 Samuel 24:17
Reverence and honesty rooted in sincere love and respect for one another! What a world we would live in if each of us practiced these things unfailingly!
In our Gospel, Jesus calls his disciples to live in the world in just such a way – to bring healing and wholeness in the Name of Christ, for the sake of Love.
Our Alleluia Verse today captures the essence of Christ’s call to them —- and to us:
God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, and entrusting to us the message of that reconciliation.
2 Corinthians 5:19
Poetry: Noble Deeds – Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought, Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts in glad surprise, To higher levels rise.
The tidal wave of deeper souls Into our inmost being rolls, And lifts us unawares Out of all meaner cares.
Honor to those whose words or deeds Thus help us in our daily needs, And by their overflow Raise us from what is low!
Music:To Fill the World with Love sung by Richard Harris (Lyrics below, but you will no doubt recall them from the fabulous film “Goodbye Mr. Chips”.)
In the morning of my life I shall look to the sunrise. At a moment in my life when the world is new. And the blessing I shall ask is that God will grant me, To be brave and strong and true, And to fill the world with love my whole life through.
And to fill the world with love And to fill the world with love And to fill the world with love my whole life through
In the noontime of my life I shall look to the sunshine, At a moment in my life when the sky is blue. And the blessing I shall ask shall remain unchanging. To be brave and strong and true, And to fill the world with love my whole life through
In the evening of my life I shall look to the sunset, At a moment in my life when the night is due. And the question I shall ask only You can answer. Was I brave and strong and true? Did I fill the world with love my whole life through?
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, our readings are about the growing popularity and power of David and Jesus. Accompanying that growth is the fearful jealousy of their peers, requiring both Jesus and David to take precautions.
David Calming Saul’s Fury with the Harp by Silvestro Lega
In our first reading, Saul is plagued by a lethal insecurity. As David’s star rises among the people, a plot to kill him festers in Saul’s heart. Right in the middle of this developing drama, Jonathan attempts to conciliate the relationship between his father and his friend.
Saul was very angry and resentful of the song, for he thought: “They give David ten thousands, but only thousands to me. All that remains for him is the kingship.” And from that day on, Saul was jealous of David.
Saul discussed his intention of killing David with his son Jonathan and with all his servants. But Saul’s son Jonathan, who was very fond of David, told him: “My father Saul is trying to kill you.
1 Samuel 18:8; 19:1
Over the course of our lives, haven’t we found ourselves in one, or maybe all, of these roles? Jealous, insecure, envious, like Saul? Unexpectedly successful, perhaps to another’s disadvantage, like David? Trying to make peace between two beloveds who can’t see past themselves, like Jonathan?
Praying with this passage leads us to ask ourselves, “How is God with me when I find myself in such situations?” What would have been God’s hope for Saul at this point in his life? For David? For Jonathan?
When I think of Saul, I wonder what could have happened if he had been big-hearted, if he had been brave enough to offer David mentorship and encouragement. It can be very hard to step back from a role where we have been in control and prominence. Generously advancing a successor is the sign of a graceful heart. Sadly, Saul did not meet the challenge.
When I think of David, I wonder how he might have better included Saul in his success. None of us achieves success alone. Sometimes the people and circumstances that have supported us are invisible — even to us. Especially in the vigor of youth, we may be tempted to think that we are solely responsible for our achievements. Developing an aware and grateful heart can help us realize life’s profound interdependence.
When I think of Jonathan, I just want to be like him. He was such a good person who loved without self-interest. Jonathan is a figure of Christ who sought reconciliation and loved generously to the point of death. Praying with Jonathan is an invitation to holiness.
In our Gospel, we meet Jesus as he seeks the same peace, reconciliation, and love. Still, even as Jesus heals and does good among the people, he is aware of the sinful weakness in some people’s hearts. He therefore calls for care in making his name known:
He had cured many and, as a result, those who had diseases were pressing upon him to touch him. And whenever unclean spirits saw him they would fall down before him and shout, “You are the Son of God.” He warned them sternly not to make him known.
Mark 3: 10-12
So many ways to pray with today’s Scripture! Given your place with God today, what are these passages suggesting for you?
Poetry: Not Like a Cypress by Yehuda Amichai, (1924 – 2000) was an Israeli poet and author, one of the first to write in colloquial Hebrew in modern times. Much of his work tries “to make sense of the world that created the Holocaust”.
Amichai was invited in 1994 by Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin to read his poems at the ceremony in Oslo when Rabin, Yasser Arafat, and Shimon Peres were awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts to establish peace in the Middle East. Perhaps we might send a prayer to these honored men for a blessing of sanity and peace over today’s Middle East leaders.
I chose this poem because it mentions Saul, “the single man” whom the “multitudes” made great. But not like Saul does one find meaning and peace. The poet suggests that “becoming like the rain” and giving one’s life is the way to meaning, so reflective of Jesus’s advice, “Unless the grain of wheat …”
Not like a cypress, not at once, not all of me, but like the grass, in thousands of cautious green exits, to be hiding like many children while one of them seeks.
And not like the single man, like Saul, whom the multitude found and made king. But like the rain in many places from many clouds, to be absorbed, to be drunk by many mouths, to be breathed in like the air all year long and scattered like blossoming in springtime.
Not the sharp ring that wakes up the doctor on call, but with tapping, on many small windows at side entrances, with many heartbeats.
And afterward the quiet exit, like smoke without shofar-blasts, a statesman resigning, children tired from play, a stone as it almost stops rolling down the steep hill, in the place where the plain of great renunciation begins, from which, like prayers that are answered, dust rises in many myriads of grains.
Music: Paintbox – Ofra Haza and Kobi Oshrat
Ofra Haza accompanied by pianist and composer Kobi Oshrat at the Nobel Peace Prize Award Ceremony on December 10, 1994 at the Oslo City Hall in Oslo, Norway, honoring Nobel Laureates Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin (1922-1995), Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres (1923-2016) and Palestine Liberation Organization Chairman Yasser Arafat (1929-2004) for their efforts to create peace in the Middle East. She performed here at the request of Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. (Lyrics below)
I had a paintbox Each color glowing with delight I had a paintbox with colors Warm and cool and bright
I had a paintbox Each color glowing with delight I had a paintbox with colors Warm and cool and bright
I had no red I had no red for wounds and blood I had no black for an orphaned child
I had no white I had no white for the face of the dead I had no yellow for burning sands
I had a paintbox Each color glowing with delight I had a paintbox with colors Warm and cool and bright
I had orange I had orange for joy and life I had green Green for buds and blooms
I had blue I had blue for a clear, bright skies I had pink Pink for dreams and rest
I had a paintbox Each color glowing with delight I had a paintbox with colors Warm and cool and bright
I had a paintbox Each color glowing with delight I sat down I sat down and painted peace Peace, peace
Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, both our readings are electric with emotion.
In our first reading, Israel is mortally threatened by the Philistines. We see Saul, their King, fearful and drained of courage. And we see David, their hope, filled with confidence in God’s presence and power.
David spoke to Saul: “Let your majesty not lose courage. I am at your service to go and fight this Philistine.” But Saul answered David, “You cannot go up against this Philistine and fight with him, for you are only a youth, while he has been a warrior from his youth.”
David continued: “The LORD, who delivered me from the claws of the lion and the bear, will also keep me safe from the clutches of this Philistine.” Saul answered David, “Go! the LORD will be with you.”
1 Samuel 17: 32-33;37
Young David engages God’s power with the confidence generated by innocence and goodness. This is the same confidence that Jesus has as he lives out his call. He knows what the Divine desire for us – our healing and wholeness. He is one with that desire.
In today’s Gospel, Jesus sees a man suffering from a withered hand. He knows he has the power to heal this man and that the Father desires such healing. But the Pharisees, who are afraid of Jesus’s power, invoke the Law in an attempt to control him.
The Pharisees watched Jesus closely to see if Jesus would cure the man on the sabbath so that they might accuse him. He said to the man with the withered hand, “Come up here before us.” Then he said to the Pharisees, “Is it lawful to do good on the sabbath rather than to do evil, to save life rather than to destroy it?”
Mark 3:2-4
But the Pharisees didn’t even have the guts to answer Jesus. This angered him. He was disgusted with their small-hearted selfishness. Rather than be filled with wonder at this man restored to wholeness, “… they went out and plotted against Jesus.”
We often encounter this kind of fearful smallness in our lives … sometimes even in ourselves. What can we learn from David and Jesus about confidently living a larger life, held within the power of God?
Prose Poem: West Wind 2 – Mary Oliver
You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without any doubt, I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.
Lift the oars from the water, let your arms rest, and your heart, and your heart’s little intelligence, and listen to me.
There is life without love. It is not worth a bent penny, or a scuffed shoe. It is not worth the body of a dead dog nine days unburied.
When you hear, a mile away and still out of sight, the churn of the water as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the sharp rocks — when you feel the mist on your mouth and sense ahead the embattlement, the long falls plunging and steaming—then row, row for your life toward it.
Lavish Mercy 