The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary invite us to ponder changes to our attitude to how we may be dealing with distance from God.
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| Return to Him |
In the reading from the Prophet Hosea is a Call to Repentance that recalls the impenitence of Israel and Judah.
* [6:2] After two days; on the third day: presumptuous Israel expects that soon God will renew them (cf. Ez 37).1
Psalm 51 declares we know our transgressions.
* [51:18] For you do not desire sacrifice: the mere offering of the ritual sacrifice apart from good dispositions is not acceptable to God, cf. Ps 50.2
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus offers the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax-Collector to focus our meditation.
* [18:1–14] The particularly Lucan material in the travel narrative concludes with two parables on prayer. The first (Lk 18:1–8) teaches the disciples the need of persistent prayer so that they not fall victims to apostasy (Lk 18:8). The second (Lk 18:9–14) condemns the self-righteous, critical attitude of the Pharisee and teaches that the fundamental attitude of the Christian disciple must be the recognition of sinfulness and complete dependence on God’s graciousness. The second parable recalls the story of the pardoning of the sinful woman (Lk 7:36–50) where a similar contrast is presented between the critical attitude of the Pharisee Simon and the love shown by the pardoned sinner.3
Kimberly Grassmeyer nudges us to behave less often like the Pharisee who was self-aggrandizing, and more often like the tax collector, justified and exalted because of his acts of humility at the Temple.
I’m not sure I have the capacity to be a person of humility all the time, or even most of the time. It’s easy to blame the hubris of being among a more fortunate economic class, or the consumerism or hedonism or any other of the -isms that are too prevalent in our world. But the truth runs much deeper than those excuses. So I pray and wonder... Does trying to be a person of humility count? Does living out what my grandmother taught me so well count: that I am special in God’s eyes, but no more special than any of my loud, crazy cousins and certainly no more so than any other child of God? Am I humble when I serve, or accept the help of others, or break bread with a family of very modest means – so much so that guilt creeps even as I’m humbled by their generosity? Do I practice Magis (the more)? Have I truly turned myself over to God?4
Don Schwager quotes “God's mercy is our only hope,” by Augustine of Hippo, 354-430 A.D.
"Driven out of paradise by You and exiled in a distant land, I cannot return by myself unless You, O Lord, come to meet me in my wandering. My return is based on hope in your mercy during all of my earthly life. My only hope, the only source of confidence, and the only solid promise is your mercy." (excerpt from Commentary on Psalm 24,5)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Luke 18:9-14 comments that St. Teresa of Ávila taught that the virtue of humility is best understood as true knowledge: to see yourself as you really are, neither too high nor too low. If you have an inflated opinion of yourself and look down on other people, humility reminds you that we are all sinners in need of God’s mercy. If you have an excessively negative self-image and see yourself as unworthy of love, humility corrects that false impression in light of God’s profound love for you and the fact that you are created in his image and likeness.
The season of Lent is a time for deepening humility. It’s a time for us to grow in the kind of humility that sees things as they really are: we are sinners in need of God’s love, but we are also deeply loved and valued by God—to the point that Jesus gave his very life for us.
So how do we grow in humility? It happens every time we experience God’s mercy. Like the tax collector, as we see ourselves as sinners who have received mercy, our humility increases. Mercy fills us with joy, even as it humbles us.6
Friar Jude Winkler connects the text from Hosea to a prophecy of Jesus Passion. In repentance, our contrition should be profound with commitment to change our ways. Friar Jude reminds us that seeking to be acknowledged for our goodness does not lead to righteousness.
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM cites Walter Brueggemann, Scripture teacher, who points out that even though about one third of the Psalms are psalms of “lament,” these have been the least used by Catholic and Protestant liturgies. We think they make us appear weak, helpless, and vulnerable, or show a lack of faith. Reverend Aaron Graham reflects on the elements found in prayers of lament. Please find in his words and in the text of Psalm 22:1-5, a way to voice your own complaints, requests, and trust in God, who is always waiting to hear.
We need to be reminded that our cries are not too much for God. [God] laments with us. In fact, [God] wants us to come to [the Divine Presence] in our anger, in our fear, in our loneliness, in our hurt, and in our confusion.
Each lamenting Psalm has a structure;
They begin with a complaint. . .that things are not as they should be.They turn to a request. God, do something! Rescue me! Heal me! Restore me! Show mercy! Laments end with an expression of trust. Laments end with the reminder that God is setting things right, even though it often seems so slow. It is right for our laments to turn towards a reminder that God is in control and about the business of righting all things made wrong. [1]Consider praying these words found in Psalm 22, or choose another passage of lament. Before you pray, ask God to speak to you.7
In prayer, like Psalm 51, we have poetry as meditation for developing sincere knowledge of our transgressions so that we may be fully open to the mercy of God.
References
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