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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.
It is said that “old habits die hard.” I was aware of that in a small way during the days of retreat from which I returned yesterday. Each morning when I awoke to the sounds of silence one of my first thoughts was of my daily writing task. Since I had announced the 5-day hiatus, I was able with just a grateful breath to simply turn toward the silence and enter the day where the only speaking was in sessions of prayer & reflection on the mystical practices of Sufism. What became the most obvious truth for me swirled around and into every hour of the day in the words of the chant: Wherever I turn, there is the face of God.
Yesterday I spent an uncommon amount of time (for me) on YouTube. I watched the eulogies of Barack Obama, Meghan McCain and George W. Bush during the funeral of Senator John McCain. All were quite different, as are the individuals themselves, but at a moment during the speech of former President Bush I was struck by a rising sensation that I can only express as “love of country.” It was clear to me that in moments of great import, small things no longer have any place. I have known this often in the past year during weather disasters and mass shootings, but this was in some way different. It struck at the heart of how we as Americans are able, perhaps, to agree in times of great division because we recognize what is important at the center of everything. We do not need to be perfect in order to be together; we just need to be willing. We have not reached 100% participation in this truth but yesterday allowed me a glimpse of possibility that has been sorely lacking for us as a country lately.
I had a bit of an epiphany this morning. (Is that possible, or is an epiphany always spectacular?) I was reading the gospel from today’s lectionary – very brief and so familiar – which read:
Psalm 119, the longest in the book of 150 psalms, has 176 verses and can be the study of a lifetime. In a commentary this morning I read that the subject of these prayers is the hard learning one gains in light of a multitude of hardships and circumstances encountered on the spiritual path…Experiences are often repeated again and again. As we go over the same territory learning it in new ways, truth becomes grounded. Insights are gained from each spiral of ascending experience.
Since our Sophia Center Advisory Board meeting on Tuesday, I have been drawn back several times to thoughts of our future and about the best ways to help people engage in consideration of their spiritual lives. It seems less important these days to dream of large events with nationally known speakers – my fondest hope at our inception. What we have experienced as more useful is the value of deep conversation and building trust in the small groups that find meaning in the exchange of ideas. (Not that I’ve given up hope of major events, of course…) We will continue to seek input for programs and events, of course, and welcome any suggestions.
I never liked the task of pruning. Even removing the suckers from tomato plants seemed too destructive and painful (for me as well as the plant!) People told me it was important for the plant that I remove the suckers – and even branches from growing trees. I thought it was just to make everything look neat and even beautiful. It was my least favorite task in outdoor work until I read an article that told me “the sucker should be removed to prevent it from sucking away the plant’s energy.” (
Today’s gospel picks up yesterday’s conversation (JN 14), known as the “farewell discourse.” Moving on from the extraordinary verse where Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth and the life,” Jesus is speaking now about his unity with God. “If you know me, then you will know my Father,” he says. “From now on you do know him and have seen him.” It is an enthusiastic Philip, I think, who jumps in saying, “Master, show us the Father and that will be enough for us!”
There seem to be lots of reasons to get moving this morning and greet the day with anticipation. The reasons don’t come from the outside; the day (as much as I can determine it from the vantage point of my bedroom window) is looking rather dismal. But the lectionary readings declare the truth that the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord and the verse before the gospel shouts out the recognition that this is the day that the Lord has made! Rather like “Wake up!” or “Don’t miss it!” that declarative is followed with the imperative: Let us be glad and rejoice in it!
Sometimes the strangest thoughts bubble up when I’m reading the Scriptures for the day. This year we’re reading Mark and today’s section is the familiar story of the Transfiguration (9:2-10). None of the gospels provides all the details for any story but Mark is especially brief – the first written and shortest gospel. In some cases it’s like reading shorthand. Over the years I’ve become brave enough to try filling in some of the blanks in the stories. I doubt it can hurt; it’s not dogmatic teaching but just conjecture for my own deeper understanding. I think of it as a kind of similar activity to that of movie makers who try to give us pictures to accompany the most visual texts – not always successfully, I might add.