- Deuteronomy 30: 10-14
- Psalms 69: 14, 17, 30-31, 33-34, 36, 37
- Colossians 1: 15-20
- Luke 10: 25-37
- You know what you are to do
- Have you ever had a point in life when you were desperately seeking guidance, feeling trapped by circumstances, and looking for a way out?
- At that time, what sort of help did you receive?
- Did someone tell you flat out what the solution was, or did you have to puzzle it out for yourself to one extent or another?
- Why do you think that is?
- Yielding it to God
- When you pray to God about some trying situation, what immediately changes as far as how you are relating to that problem?
- Do you ever have trouble trusting God for a solution?
- How do you get back on track when there is a crisis of faith?
- How do you think that makes God feel?
- Peace, perfect peace
- How would you define peace?
- Do you think that Jesus always had peace in His life?
- How about more recent folks like Mother Theresa, Dorothy Day, Archbishop Ramiro?
- How do you think that they achieved that peace?
- What's the hardest part about achieving peace in life?
- Is peace worth it?
- Why?
- Owning the need
- Needy people come in all shapes and sizes. It was something of a mental adjustment for me to realize that the Confirmation students at St. Cyprian came from good homes, were raised with all of the benefits of a middle-class lifestyle, yet were, often, desperately needing guidance, and assurance that there was more to life than what they could see and touch.
- What are some of the other urgent needs around you today?
- How are those going to get met?
- What is your responsibility here?
- Am I listening to what God has already revealed to me?
- How am I growing in trust of God?
- How much am I willing to sacrifice for real peace?
- Am I willing to be healing to someone that I've not even met yet?
Pay It Forward
They told me the roads weren't safe for a lone peddler at this time of day.
But I knew that if I didn't get moving, I would miss out in Jericho.
So I set out, making the best speed that I could, hoping the bandits would be gone
And I make my way safely without a hitch.
A rustle before me, cries behind me, steep hillsides to the right and the left
And I know that the trap has snapped shut, with me and my poor donkey in its jaws.
I cried as they stripped away all my goods, everything that I had saved for.
Killed my beloved Sophia and then, as if that were not enough, turned on me.
Soon the blows stopped hurting, I hoped that I had no unfinished business.
Then the darkness came over me and I lay there, all but dead.
I dimly saw the others go by, too week to cry for help, the sun blazing down on me.
Until a kind stranger saw me, gasped in surprise, and tended my wounds most carefully.
Somehow he got me to an inn, and the innkeeper himself tended me.
I tried to pay him, and all that he would say was that it was all covered.
Eventually, I was back on my feet. I never met the one who saved my life.
The innkeeper told me that he had been a Samaritan, and I wondered what he saw in me.
He must have been able to tell me for a Jew, my clothes would have given me away.
Yet he touched me, not knowing how or why I had been beaten, not knowing what he was getting into.
I was desperate to thank him properly, resolve my debt, and then I realized.
There was no way to "settle" such a debt, but the best that I could do was to do the same.
I heard of a handful of saints living among the lepers, tending their wounds.
At first I was frightened at the prospect, but I met with them anyway.
They told me this work was not for everyone, that few thought it necessary.
But I felt such a peace in their presence, and felt so at home, that I knew.
I wanted to thank that Samaritan for saving my life from death.
Now I want to thank him for saving my life for giving.
The lepers that I serve have dignity knowing that someone cares for them, about them.
I have dignity in the humility of having found what I was born to do.
All it took was coming within a hair's breath of death,
And being pulled back by someone I never knew.
Shalom!
But I knew that if I didn't get moving, I would miss out in Jericho.
So I set out, making the best speed that I could, hoping the bandits would be gone
And I make my way safely without a hitch.
A rustle before me, cries behind me, steep hillsides to the right and the left
And I know that the trap has snapped shut, with me and my poor donkey in its jaws.
I cried as they stripped away all my goods, everything that I had saved for.
Killed my beloved Sophia and then, as if that were not enough, turned on me.
Soon the blows stopped hurting, I hoped that I had no unfinished business.
Then the darkness came over me and I lay there, all but dead.
I dimly saw the others go by, too week to cry for help, the sun blazing down on me.
Until a kind stranger saw me, gasped in surprise, and tended my wounds most carefully.
Somehow he got me to an inn, and the innkeeper himself tended me.
I tried to pay him, and all that he would say was that it was all covered.
Eventually, I was back on my feet. I never met the one who saved my life.
The innkeeper told me that he had been a Samaritan, and I wondered what he saw in me.
He must have been able to tell me for a Jew, my clothes would have given me away.
Yet he touched me, not knowing how or why I had been beaten, not knowing what he was getting into.
I was desperate to thank him properly, resolve my debt, and then I realized.
There was no way to "settle" such a debt, but the best that I could do was to do the same.
I heard of a handful of saints living among the lepers, tending their wounds.
At first I was frightened at the prospect, but I met with them anyway.
They told me this work was not for everyone, that few thought it necessary.
But I felt such a peace in their presence, and felt so at home, that I knew.
I wanted to thank that Samaritan for saving my life from death.
Now I want to thank him for saving my life for giving.
The lepers that I serve have dignity knowing that someone cares for them, about them.
I have dignity in the humility of having found what I was born to do.
All it took was coming within a hair's breath of death,
And being pulled back by someone I never knew.
Shalom!
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