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.
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.
The Prophet Jeremiah observed, "The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?" (NIV) (NABRE)
We should ponder his words all the more deeply today. After "the death of God" comes the death of human nature. We cannot know who we are without knowledge of God; we cannot fathom our inclinations to evil. Because God is dead and unmourned, marriage is unmoored; babies, manufactured by unnatural breeding; refugees, unwelcome; and genocide, standard operating procedure.
In today's first reading, Hosea hears of Israel's repentance and mocks it. "Your piety is like a morning cloud, like the dew that early passes away."
How often do parents hear their children swear they will not drink or use drugs again, and know they're lying? How often do betrayed spouses hear their mates promise endless fidelity and know they're incapable of telling the truth? Your piety is like a morning cloud, like the dew that evaporates in sunlight.
People lie because they do not know Truth. They would not know Truth if it bit them on the leg.
To know Truth we must cultivate a relationship with God, which takes time, dedication and effort. We must be willing to learn unpleasant truths, especially about ourselves, our families, churches and nations. We must understand that history doesn't begin each morning; that the past is always present and is often unreconciled.
As Job said, "We accept good things from the Lord. Should we not accept the bad as well?"
Knowing God is not only pleasant; it is sometimes painful like a cross, and confusing like a dark night. Those who pray because it makes them feel good drop off along the way. They are like seed planted in shallow soil. Without roots, they wither in the scorching light of God. Even by the end of Lent, six short weeks, they've quit.
The one who prays must be ready to be smitten by the prophets and slain by the word of my mouth. Wisdom is the knowledge of one's own innumerable betrayals.
Jesus, in today's gospel, recommends to us the prayer of the Publican. "O God, be merciful to me a sinner." We should say no more.
Knowing God is not only pleasant; it is sometimes painful like a cross, and confusing like a dark night. Those who pray because it makes them feel good drop off along the way. They are like seed planted in shallow soil. Without roots, they wither in the scorching light of God. Even by the end of Lent, six short weeks, they've quit.
The one who prays must be ready to be smitten by the prophets and slain by the word of my mouth. Wisdom is the knowledge of one's own innumerable betrayals.
Jesus, in today's gospel, recommends to us the prayer of the Publican. "O God, be merciful to me a sinner." We should say no more.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.