God’s Mysterious Mercy

“With many such parables he spoke the word to them as they were able to understand it. Without parables he did not speak to them, but to his own disciples he explained everything in private” (Mark 4:33-34).

When I read these words from today’s Gospel, I found myself wishing I were one of the disciples, sitting at the feet of Jesus as he explained his parables.  I often wish God would explain his mysterious ways to me!  

For example, do you ever wonder why God chose (and chooses) such flawed instruments through whom to work? In today’s First Reading we learn that the great King David was an adulterer—and worse, a murderer.  He spies on a beautiful married woman and has relations with her. When her pregnancy threatens to expose his actions he ends up sending her husband to his death to cover up what he has done. I was struck by David’s attempts to conceal his guilt, trying two times to get Uriah to go home and have relations with Bathsheba so there would be a plausible explanation for her pregnancy.  

Have you ever desperately tried to hide or fix something you did wrong? This story reminded me of a time when I was a little girl. I overheard a friend’s mother telling mine that their dog had been hit by a car, but that they were going to tell the children the dog was just lost.  The next time I saw my friend, I told her what I had overheard. When she said she was going to go ask her mother I was immediately overcome with fear and remorse and started swearing I made the whole story up.  As she left the room I hid under a table. I was terrified of what would happen if she told our mothers what I had said.

Do you remember Adam and Eve cowering behind their fig leaf coverings and hiding from God when he came to walk in the Garden with them in the cool of the day? Of course, there is no hiding from God, and even if David had succeeded in his plot, God still would have known that he was the father of Bathsheba’s baby, just as he knew that David was responsible for Uriah’s death.

Thankfully, we, like David, are more than the sum of our wrongdoings.  Today’s reading from Psalm 51 is so comforting with its assurance that God in his mercy really can wipe away our guilt. David repented and today we remember him as not only a great king and warrior but as someone who followed God’s laws.  In the story from my childhood, my friend’s mother provided a beautiful example of mirroring the mercy of God. She came and found me where I lay sobbing and held me in her lap and told me it was okay, that she should have told the truth in the first place. 

So today, if you long for God’s mercy, imagine yourself like a child in a parent’s lap, begging for forgiveness and knowing that Scripture promises that it is available to you.

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Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: Caleb Jones, https://unsplash.com/photos/rpPvrOQmR2s

Jesus, Sun of Justice

Today’s readings are full of hope and promise, as is fitting for the Third Week of Advent.  In the First Reading, the prophet Jeremiah promises a king who will “reign and govern wisely, [and] do what is just and right in the land.” The Responsorial Psalm repeats the message: “Justice shall flourish in his time, and fullness of peace forever.” Then comes the twist: the Gospel tells us how these promises were fulfilled, by the birth of a baby. 

The Israelites, we know, were expecting a worldly king, described as a “shoot to David,” and who would be like David: a mighty soldier who would defeat their enemies once and for all. Instead, God sent Jesus with his message of justice, yes, but not through violence and conquest: rather by forgiveness, love, and mercy. And instead of immediately establishing his just and righteous kingdom, Jesus accepted an unjust condemnation and death. Is it any wonder that his friends despaired at first and went into hiding? 

We all long for justice. Children are born with this innate desire—they are obsessed with fairness until their parents tell them enough times that the world is not fair.  Well, it is a fallen world so that is unfortunately true. But I have never said this to my own children. Instead, I say this: “The world is not fair but we have to try to be.” We must not fall prey to the temptation to think that there is no hope for any justice here on earth. While perfect justice may be only attainable in God’s Kingdom, we cannot just stand around, staring at the sky, waiting for Jesus to show up. We are called to do our best to bring about his justice here, acting as God’s hands on Earth.  Jesus showed us the way over and over, perhaps most notably when he said “Whatsoever you do to the least of these you do unto me.” We are not meant to sit passively by and wait for him. Rather, he calls us to be a people of action and to act on his example. 

Working for justice is demanding and difficult. People of good will in our society often disagree about what justice means and how to achieve it. But the Christian life is not supposed to be easy nor is it supposed to be all about ourselves and our comfort. So let today’s readings make us hopeful, but never complacent.  We can never achieve perfect justice on Earth, only a shadow of what it will look like in the Kingdom of God, but that does not free us from the responsibility of trying.

“But unto you that fear my name, the Sun of justice shall arise, and health in his wings: and you shall go forth, and shall leap like calves of the herd” (Malachi 4:2).

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Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

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When the Bad Guys Win

As I mentioned in my last reflection, I—and millions of other Christians – have been listening to Father Mike Schmitz’s Bible in a Year podcast since January 1st. As it happens, we just finished reading the First and Second Book of Maccabees, the source of today’s First Reading. These books are not included in the Protestant Bible, and even many Catholics are not especially familiar with them—I know I wasn’t. They sound different from most of the rest of the Bible, full of names of nations and leaders you would expect to encounter in history books. They are violent and graphic, and they tell tales of a people who valiantly and successfully defend themselves from much larger and more powerful nations.  

Today’s First Reading is really satisfying, isn’t it? Imagine King Antiochus, secure in the power of his army, head full of dreams of silver and gold. He is so certain of victory that when things don’t go his way, he is dismayed. In today’s slang, we might say he is “shook.” He is so overcome that he takes to his bed and prepares to die. On his deathbed he recognizes the price he has paid for his greed.

Wouldn’t it be nice if things always worked out that way—the virtuous victorious, the evildoers overthrown? That is not the norm in our fallen world, though. Remember that the victory in today’s First Reading was only temporary. Although God’s chosen people rose up, defeated the armies of Antiochus, and reclaimed the temple, we know that later they were conquered by the Romans and eventually the temple was again laid waste. You win some, you lose some, and many times the bad guys win. At least, so it seems.

Today’s list of saints is replete with martyrs—the Martyrs of Antioch, Heraclea, Turin, and the Spanish Civil war, the Martyred Sisters of the Christian Doctrine—and that is only a partial list! These holy men and women gave their lives in witness to their faith. The way the world sees it, when good people are persecuted, when they die for their beliefs, the bad guys have indeed won. But as Christians we are called to see not as the world sees, but as God sees. 

Because even though we must continue to strive for holiness in this world, even as we work for peace and justice and pray to bring about God’s Kingdom, we know how the story ends. As Jesus told the Sadducees in today’s Gospel, the dead will rise, for God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.  God does not ask all of us to die for Him, but we know that living for Him can bring its own crosses.  So when we are feeling hopeless and defeated about the state of the world, let us remember that “the needy shall not always be forgotten, nor shall the hope of the afflicted forever perish,” and let us rejoice in the salvation of our God!

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Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

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Let Your Light Shine!

Like literally millions of other Christians, I have been listening to Father Mike Schmitz’s Bible in a Year podcast regularly since January 1, 2021. Recently we spent weeks on the Exile, the period during which most of the Israelites dwelt in Babylon while Jerusalem and the Temple were in ruins.

So I was excited to see that today’s First Reading recounts the beginning of the end of that period of exile. King Cyrus of Persia not only lets the Israelites go, he also promises that the Temple will be rebuilt. After reading the many details on the Temple and its construction, and knowing what it meant to the Israelites, this makes me happy to read. How much happier must they have been at this news? The Responsorial Psalm tells us of their laughter and rejoicing. I love to imagine their dancing and singing and their smiling happy faces.  

Today’s Gospel Acclamation exhorts us to let our light shine, and in the Gospel Jesus reminds us not to place that light under a bushel. At the end of their exile, the Israelites could not hide the light of their faith and their appreciation of the good things God had done for them.

Surely God has done great things for all of us, but how good are we at shining? I reflect today on the martyrs of the Church in Korea, whose feasts we are celebrating.  Saints Andrew Kim Tae-gŏn, Paul Chŏng Ha-sang, and Companions (103 other priests, missionaries, and lay people) let their light shine even when it meant certain death.  During waves of persecution, surely God would have excused them if they had chosen to consider their faith more of a private matter, right? Yet St. Andrew said, “We have received baptism, entrance into the Church, and the honor of being called Christians. Yet what good will this do us if we are Christians in name only and not in fact?” He and these other witnesses to the faith chose to shine brightly even unto death.

What does this mean for us today? What does shining your light look like for a modern Catholic in a country where we have no fear of martyrdom? I believe there are as many ways to shine as there are Catholics! Some of you wear Catholic apparel and jewelry. Others extend invitations to Mass or to a parish event. Some might offer prayers to a friend in need. Perhaps you write about your faith for others to read. Some of you may be the proprietors of Catholic businesses. These are all wonderful and valid ways of letting others see your light.

But I think that more important are the less obvious ways that all Christians are called to demonstrate their faith: by loving God and neighbor and making sure that all our actions, every day, reflect that love. How do we treat one another when we are not at church? Are we kind to those who serve us in stores and in restaurants? How do we conduct ourselves during online disagreements? Remember that anyone who knows you are a Christian is apt to judge ALL Christians by your behavior. The very best way for Christians to be the light of the world is to love one another visibly and well.

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Leslie Sholly is a Catholic, Southern wife and mother of five, living in her hometown, Knoxville, Tennessee. She graduated from Georgetown University with an English major and Theology minor. She blogs at Life in Every Limb, where for 11 years she has covered all kinds of topics, more recently focusing on the intersection of faith, politics, and social justice.

Feature Image Credit: ramirocosta, https://www.cathopic.com/photo/26096-cristo-futuro-santuario