Saturday of the Third Week of Lent

Saint Patrick of Ireland

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/031712.cfm

What can I do with you, Ephraim?
What can I do with you, Judah?
Your piety is like a morning cloud,
like the dew that early passes away.

I suppose we're all familiar with remorse. When I used to drink alcohol I usually felt remorse the next day. (I was never a good drunk.) Buyers often feel remorse and we even have laws to allow us to return unused purchases; they're called aptly, "Buyer's Remorse Laws." It's a very painful feeling, a mixture of anger, regret and sadness; a kind of delirium tremens that follows hard upon excitement. 

But it rarely leads directly to change. I remember too many oaths I made under the effect of remorse. Like  all feelings, it passes and is readily forgotten when temptation returns.

In this morning's first reading the Prophet Hosea, speaking for God, chastises the people who think that God will be persuaded by their histrionic remorse. He is certainly not like the foolish young bride who wants so desperately to believe the vows of her stricken husband. He has heard it all before. 

For this reason I smote them through the prophets,
I slew them by the words of my mouth;
For it is love that I desire, not sacrifice,
and knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings.

Several years ago, when I lived in Minnesota, I received a desperate call from a distant relative in Kentucky. I hardly knew the young man; I would not know him in the street. But I had heard he was a heavy drinker. The poor fellow called to say his girlfriend -- who had not been a girl in many years -- had suffered a severe accident and might be incapacitated for the rest of her life, if she lived. He said he loved her and wanted to do the right thing but he could barely help himself. In fact, her relatives had already thrown him out of her house. 
Suddenly, in the midst of his carousing, reality had intervened and he was helpless. There was nothing I could say or do for him. He was, of course, intoxicated when he called me. Even to say "Sober up." would be wasted breath. I said a prayer for him over the telephone. 


The life God offers us is real. It is a life of love and sacrifice. It is a pious life that does not evaporate like the dew. Rather, it gathers and forms deep reservoirs within our individual souls and our collective communities. A godly life is regular -- a word based on the Latin regula, meaning law. The regulated life of the Christian includes habitual and daily prayer. It demands courage, temperance, self-denial and industry. The spiritually lazy need not apply. There is no place for remorse, that phony regret that pleads too late for a second chance.