The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today invite us to examine the choices that we make in our communities that inhibit changes necessary to create a loving, merciful, and compassionate response to the “cry of the poor and the cry of the earth”.
Mercy and the Common Good
The reading from the Book of Baruch describes the Confession of Sins of the residents of Jerusalem.
* [1:15–2:10] This confession of sin is similar to Dn 9:7–14, and echoes ideas from Deuteronomy and Jeremiah; cf. also Neh 9.1
Psalm 79 is a plea for mercy for Jerusalem.
* [Psalm 79] A communal lament complaining that the nations have defiled the Temple and murdered the holy people, leaving their corpses unburied (Ps 79:1–4). The occasion is probably the destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonian army in 587 B.C. The people ask how long the withdrawal of divine favor will last (Ps 79:5), pray for action now (Ps 79:6–7), and admit that their own sins have brought about the catastrophe (Ps 79:8–9). They seek to persuade God to act for reasons of honor: the nations who do not call upon the Name are running amok (Ps 79:6); the divine honor is compromised (Ps 79:1, 10, 12); God’s own servants suffer (Ps 79:2–4, 11).2
In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus grieves woes to unrepentant cities.
* [10:13–16] The call to repentance that is a part of the proclamation of the kingdom brings with it a severe judgment for those who hear it and reject it.3
Beth Samson invites us to imagine the people Jesus is sending out in the Gospel today. They are to make way for Jesus and to not only set the place but prepare the people for Jesus’ arrival. Imagine that they too considered the little ways, along with the big tasks, that they were called to do in a way of living out God’s love.
Good and gracious God, today we celebrate the life and witness of St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus. We ask for her intercession as we strive to love you in “the little ways.” We pray for the grace to slow down and to live into the mundane moments of our lives with gratitude. May our lives be a witness to your love and grace. Amen.4
Don Schwager quotes “Christ speaks through the disciples,” by Cyril of Alexandria (376-444 AD).
"Christ gives those who love instruction the assurance that whatever is said concerning him by the holy apostles or evangelists is to be received necessarily without any doubt and to be crowned with the words of truth. He who hears them, hears Christ. For the blessed Paul also said, 'You desire proof that Christ is speaking in me' (2 Corinthians 13:3). Christ himself somewhere also said to the holy disciples, 'For it is not you that speak, but the Spirit of your Father that speaks in you' (Matthew 10:20). Christ speaks in them by the consubstantial Spirit. If it is true, and plainly it is, that they speak by Christ, how can they err? He affirms that he who does not hear them, does not hear Christ, and that he who rejects them rejects Christ, and with him the Father."(excerpt from COMMENTARY ON LUKE, HOMILY 63)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Baruch 1:15-22 comments that sometimes it takes something truly difficult to wake us up to our sin—or to any situation in which we have been “too ready to disregard [God’s] voice” (Baruch 1:19). That shouldn’t surprise us, however. It’s part of our fallen human nature to stubbornly go our own way or to rationalize our sin or simply ignore it.
That’s not what God wants for us. He longs for us to become aware of our sin so that we can repent and receive his abundant mercy. So at times he will use an unexpected difficulty to open our eyes and lead us to repentance. No one enjoys a wake-up call; no one likes to confront their sin. As with the exiles, it can be painful and fill us with regret. But just as it happened with the exiles, it can also be the beginning of our own restoration and renewal.6
Friar Jude Winkler notes that Baruch, written in Greek, is excluded from the Protestant and Jewish Biblical canon. As sinners we realize our restoration depends on the mercy of God. Friar Jude is reminded by the unrepentant cities that we can fail to open our hearts and encounter Jesus wherever He presents Himself.
Franciscan Media explores the life of Thérèse of Lisieux, a Carmelite nun called the “Little Flower,” who lived a cloistered life of obscurity in the convent of Lisieux, France. And her preference for hidden sacrifice did indeed convert souls. Few saints of God are more popular than this young nun. Her autobiography, The Story of a Soul, is read and loved throughout the world. Thérèse Martin entered the convent at the age of 15 and died in 1897 at the age of 24.
Thérèse has much to teach our age of the image, the appearance, the “self.” We have become a dangerously self-conscious people, painfully aware of the need to be fulfilled, yet knowing we are not. Thérèse, like so many saints, sought to serve others, to do something outside herself, to forget herself in quiet acts of love. She is one of the great examples of the gospel paradox that we gain our life by losing it, and that the seed that falls to the ground must die in order to live. Preoccupation with self separates modern men and women from God, from their fellow human beings, and ultimately from themselves. We must re-learn to forget ourselves, to contemplate a God who draws us out of ourselves, and to serve others as the ultimate expression of selfhood. These are the insights of Saint Thérèse, and they are more valid today than ever.7
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, has often said that we come to God through great love and great suffering, and—if we allow it—this journey leads us to a universal love. [1] From her Buddhist tradition, Tara Brach teaches that suffering offers a pathway to compassion.
To cultivate the tenderness of compassion, we not only stop running from suffering, we deliberately bring our attention to it. Buddhist compassion practices usually begin with being aware of our own pain because once our hearts are tender and open to our own suffering, we can more easily extend compassion to others. Sometimes we most easily connect with tenderness by first focusing our attention on the suffering of others and then bringing attention to our experience. Either way, as we feel suffering and relate to it with care rather than resistance, we awaken the heart of compassion. As we practice responding to our suffering with the kindness of compassion, our hearts can become, as Buddhist teacher Sharon Salzberg says, as wide as the world. [2]8
We examine policy and programs of our cities and governments for directions that move away from love of neighbour and support of the common good and seek the counsel of the Spirit to advocate for life giving action.
References
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