The texts from the Roman Catholic Lectionary today alert us to the indifference and complacency that may dampen our openness to fullness of life.
Decisions for Life
The reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah contains exhortations to the exiles.
If only you would attend to my commandments,1
Psalm 1 presents the Two Ways.
* [Psalm 1] A preface to the whole Book of Psalms, contrasting with striking similes the destiny of the good and the wicked. The Psalm views life as activity, as choosing either the good or the bad. Each “way” brings its inevitable consequences. The wise through their good actions will experience rootedness and life, and the wicked, rootlessness and death.2
In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus’ Testimony to John is met with indifference.
* [11:16–19] See Lk 7:31–35. The meaning of the parable (Mt 11:16–17) and its explanation (Mt 11:18–19b) is much disputed. A plausible view is that the children of the parable are two groups, one of which proposes different entertainments to the other that will not agree with either proposal. The first represents John, Jesus, and their disciples; the second those who reject John for his asceticism and Jesus for his table association with those despised by the religiously observant. Mt 11:19c (her works) forms an inclusion with Mt 11:2 (“the works of the Messiah”). The original form of the saying is better preserved in Lk 7:35 “…wisdom is vindicated by all her children.” There John and Jesus are the children of Wisdom; here the works of Jesus the Messiah are those of divine Wisdom, of which he is the embodiment. Some important textual witnesses, however, have essentially the same reading as in Luke.3
Andy Alexander, S.J. comments that the words of the Prophet Isaiah are good to hear. There is a promise of wonderful transformation that will happen in us, when we are faithful. Beautiful images - like a river, like the waves of the sea, like the sand, like the grains. Images of fullness, wonder and power.
It is similarly sad to experience the rejection of Jesus going on today, especially by Christians. There's a tendency to not like his eating and drinking with sinners today. There's a pattern of picking and choosing what we accept from Jesus or about him. We don't much like it when he says, "Don't judge and you won't be judged." We don't seem to be attracted to the Jesus who said, "Turn the other cheek" or "Love your enemies. Do good to those who persecute you." We don't often chew his parable about the weeds in a field of wheat. (We tend to be weeders at heart.) We don't much find ourselves moved by his breaking the law to comfort the sick and the sinful, women, the marginalized and ostracized. We barely hear and take in all the things he says to the religious leaders of his day. We tend to end up with a Jesus quite different with the one in the scriptures.4
Don Schwager quotes “The river of forgiveness washes us clean,” by Ambrose of Milan, 339-397 A.D.
"This water is good, then. I mean here the grace of the Spirit. Who will give this Fountain to my heart? Let it spring up in me, let that which gives eternal life flow on me. Let that Fountain overflow on us and not flow away. For Wisdom says, 'Drink water out of your own vessels and from the fountains of your own wells, and let [not] your waters flow abroad in your streets' (Proverbs 5:15-16). How shall I keep this water so that it does not seep out or glide away? How shall I preserve my vessel, lest any crack of sin penetrating it should let the water of eternal life exude? Teach us, Lord Jesus, teach us as you taught your apostles, saying, 'Lay not up for yourselves treasures on the earth, where rust and moth destroy and where thieves break through and steal (Matthew 6:19)... "If you seek Jesus, forsake the broken cisterns, for Christ did not make it his custom to sit by a pool but by a well. There that Samaritan woman (John 4:6) found him, she who believed, she who wished to draw water. Although you ought to have come in early morning, nevertheless if you come later, even at the sixth hour, you will find Jesus wearied with his journey. He is weary, but it is because of you, because he has long looked for you, your unbelief has long wearied him. Yet he is not offended if you only come now. He asks to drink who is about to give. But he drinks not the water of a stream flowing by, but your salvation. He drinks your good dispositions. He drinks the cup, that is, the passion that atoned for your sins, that you, drinking of his sacred blood, might quench the thirst of this world." (excerpt from ON THE HOLY SPIRIT 1.16.182-84)5
The Word Among Us Meditation on Isaiah 48:17-19 comments that sometimes these bedrock truths can seem like little more than pious platitudes, especially when we come face-to-face with our sin as the Israelites did. So let’s join our prayers to those of the exiles and ask God to come alongside us, take us by the hand and show us the way.
“Lord, lead me in the way that I should go. So often, Jesus, I feel like the Israelites, lost and far from you. But when I’m on the wrong path, you are the remedy for my sinful wanderings. You don’t just point me in the right direction. You dwell in me and give me the grace to overcome every temptation. As you promised to lead the Israelites back from exile, help me see and follow the road that leads to you. “Lord, you are my Redeemer. I thank you for all the ways you show me mercy.”6
Friar Jude Winkler notes that God continues to speak in the first person in the text from Deutero-Isaiah. The crowd in the Gospel is not willing to be challenged by the images of John the Baptist and Jesus. Friar Jude reminds us to slow down and avoid distractions so that we might hear the whispers of the Spirit.
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, introduces theologian and Carmelite sister Constance FitzGerald who identifies hope as a profound freedom to accept God and reality as it is. She takes inspiration from the work of St. John of the Cross (1542–1591).
This dynamic of being able to yield unconditionally to God’s future is what John of the Cross calls hope, a hope that exists without the signature of our life and works, a hope independent of us and our accomplishments (spiritual gifts or ordinary human achievements), a hope that can even embrace and work for a future without us. This theological hope is completely free from the past, fully liberated from our need to recognize ourselves in the future, to survive, to be someone. [1]7
This gift of hope is what allows author Victoria Loorz and others to embrace a “post-doom” spirituality [2] which is large enough to face climate crises and not be driven to despair. Grounded in the Gospel, such hope affirms that love is stronger than death.
When we look toward what has been lost with the climate crisis or other ecological damage that our species has inflicted, we do still need to strive toward repair, but the cure is within our own mentality. The mentality that love really is as strong as death (like the beloved says to the lover in [the] Song of Solomon) compels us to regard those of us who remain—forests, polar bears, wilderness, people—with fierce love, looking toward how we can all live our highest quality of life together as beloved community, no matter what. We do not need to minimize or overlook the pain and tragedy we encounter as we live in this time of interwoven crises. Eventually, when we recognize that the pain is directly connected with our love, we can embrace it. We can move into actions of restoration that are firmly planted in love. [3]7
Our indifference to the choices presented by the juxtaposition of good and evil in our journey threatens to diminish our experience of full life in the Spirit.
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