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Ancient Songs Sung Anew, cleansing, conversion, Divine Light, follow me, Jesus, light, Matthew, mercy, profit, psalm 19, sacrifice, sinners, St. Matthew, tax collector, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, truth, wisdom
We know only two things about St. Matthew whose feast we celebrate today. First, we know him as a tax collector and secondly that he responded to the call of Jesus who approached him with the command: “Follow me,” and later was credited with the Gospel that bears his name. In the time of Jesus, tax collectors were not beloved members of society. It seems that, once again, Jesus was trying to make an important point by calling Matthew to be a disciple – a call that Matthew was unlikely to accept in the unquestioning way that he did. He was making some money, after all, and his job was likely secure. But Matthew got up from his customs post and seems to have never questioned the motives of Jesus or his own response. Clearly, others questioned however! “Why does the teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” they boldly said – not thinking of any transgressions they themselves might have committed. Jesus was clear in his response to these queries. “I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the righteous but sinners.”
Something in Matthew knew what Jesus was about and prompted him to say yes to the invitation. I found verses in Psalm 19, later than the lectionary verses from today and in a different translation, whose monetary metaphor seems in accord with the desire – known or unknown – of Matthew’s heart at the moment he was called to be a disciple. See what you think.
Pure light, pure truth, pure justice, God, they’re like a cleansing wind that passes through our souls, assessing all. Your presence is more valuable to us than gold, far sweeter to the tongue than honey in the comb. For it is you and you alone who teaches us, O great instructor of the soul, and in this school of wisdom, you’re the profit, true, and wisdom, the reward. (Ancient Songs Sung Anew, p.45)
May our desire for conversion deepen daily and our recognition of that to which we are called become clearer in each encounter with the divine light stirring in our hearts.
Often when I open the USCCB website where I find the lectionary readings for the day there is a line that jumps out from the page and calls for my attention. Today I didn’t have to look too deeply as it was already italicized. The sentence from chapter 12 of Matthew’s gospel has God saying, “I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” I thought immediately of Pope Francis and the focus early in his pontificate which has continued unabated. He even wrote a more than one book about mercy so it’s very easy to quote him on the subject. Here is something from his homily in 2013 on Divine Mercy Sunday that reminds us of the fact that even the closest friends of Jesus needed mercy for their failings – and they got it!
Today’s lectionary includes verses from Psalm 50 in which the psalmist expresses God’s desire for us to “step up” in our response to life, suggesting that our sacrificial offerings (bulls and goats – or for us checks and cash) are not enough. God says, “Why do you recite my statutes and profess my covenant with your mouth though you hate discipline and cast my words behind you?”
Sometimes I think we can get carried away doing penance during Lent. I must admit that for many years I refused to talk about the need for repentance because I thought life held enough challenge and people I knew needed nothing more to feed their poor self-esteem. I have now come, I hope, to a healthier place where admission of imperfection lives in concert with a willingness to reform. This is the message that stands out to me in the lectionary readings for today, clarifying God’s desire for us and urging us on from the very first words.
I remember the day, early in his papacy, that Pope Francis said, “I am a sinner” in public. The quote, as we say now, “went viral.” It’s rare to have a public figure admit during an interview or a widely attended speech that s/he has imperfections. We all know that none of us is perfect but admitting it to the world – especially using the word sin to describe our actions – is not a common practice. At first I was dismayed about his admission because I think that religious people tend to focus more on sin than on giftedness and good deeds. I grabbed onto Barbra Streisand’s line that “there are no mistakes, just lessons to be learned” and used it to talk about sin from that perspective. I still think we either overplay our imperfections sometimes or try to hide them by prevaricating (i.e. “skirting around the truth or delaying giving an answer, especially to avoid telling the whole truth”) but being able to follow the Pope’s example can be very freeing. If we are honest enough to offer our true selves to others we may find that we are accepted in spite of ourselves because nobody else is perfect either!
In the “good old days” when I was young and eager – especially in the novitiate, but also in the convent at my first teaching assignment where I lived in a group of 21 Sisters – life was very structured and predictable. The “horarium” (schedule) of the days was built around times of prayer, teaching school, meals and community sharing time – known in the novitiate at least as “recreation,” a.k.a. the hour after supper when we relaxed and talked to one another while knitting or listening to music or some such simple activity before preparing schoolwork for the next day. Saturdays were set aside for cleaning and other charges (read: household tasks) or meetings and the occasional planning time for community celebration days.
Yesterday I was in a wide-ranging conversation about elements of a future world that would not only include acceptable behavior of all citizens but also be compassionate toward all creatures and to the universe itself. It seemed that we have a long way to go toward consciousness if we are, in fact, to even approach the possibility of such a world. One element that we saw as necessary was the responsibility of each one of us to move the world toward that goal.
Today is The Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, a designation that makes me, as a “cradle Catholic,” sit up and take notice. It’s the words Solemnity and Most that call attention to the holiness of Jesus as the model for life. In this way, my focus shifts from the beating and bleeding heart in the images of Jesus on the walls of many Catholic homes to a deeper consciousness that does not negate the truth of that devotion but expands and personalizes it in a new way. Lest the reader assume that I have left tradition behind, it seems important to mention that I have an image of the Sacred Heart in my prayer space at home. It is the totality of the symbols – the face of Jesus, the heart and fire illuminating it – and yes, drops of blood as a sign of his life’s sacrifice – that guides my prayer toward love each day.
It seems too soon to say that we are on the verge of springtime. Did you know that is the meaning of the word Lent? It sounds funny to some of us living in the Northeast who know the possibility of still more snowstorms before the season really comes. Moreover, I doubt there are many of us who were taught associations with that word that rivaled the beauty of the season of spring. We face into Lent with visions of penance, deprivation and sacrifice. (How many of us have never given up chocolate for Lent?) There’s nothing wrong with any practice we might take on in Lent as long as the goal is spiritual growth without grumbling. I’m one of those whose Lenten practice has taken on a more positive spin in my adulthood. Rather than giving up something that tastes good, I try to do something that takes me out of my way for someone else’s good. And I try to smile while doing it, even if it isn’t my favorite thing to do.
Today as we mark the 15th anniversary of one of the most horrific days in our national history whose memory still resounds in conflict around the world, we would do well in honoring our fallen brethren to turn to the psalmist and pray not for retribution (which only keeps the wound of vengeance festering) but for peace of spirit in the words of Psalm 51.