The Use of Talking

There is no end of things in the heart.


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The Gospel at mass last Sunday was Luke 13:22–30. Here’s the Revised Standard Version translation of it:

He went on his way through towns and villages, teaching, and journeying toward Jerusalem. And some one said to him, “Lord, will those who are saved be few?” And he said to them, “Strive to enter by the narrow door; for many, I tell you, will seek to enter and will not be able. When once the householder has risen up and shut the door, you will begin to stand outside and to knock at the door, saying, ‘Lord, open to us.’ He will answer you, ‘I do not know where you come from.’ Then you will begin to say, ‘We ate and drank in your presence, and you taught in our streets.’ But he will say, ‘I tell you, I do not know where you come from; depart from me, all you workers of iniquity!’ There you will weep and gnash your teeth, when you see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the prophets in the kingdom of God and you yourselves thrust out. And men will come from east and west, and from north and south, and sit at table in the kingdom of God. And behold, some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last.”

This is not one of the warm and fuzzy passages in the Gospels. It’s not “inclusive;” it doesn’t “celebrate diversity.” It doesn’t tell us that God is going to save everyone, no matter what. I squirm a bit when I hear this Gospel. Sure, I recite the creed every Sunday, I read the Bible, I pray (not as much as I ought to), I go to confession (ditto). But  where is my heart truly? Where are my treasures? Do l give my life, or at least some appreciable portion of it, to God, to my loved ones, to my neighbors. In my thoughts, words, and deeds, am I as Luther, following Augustine, says, curvatus in se, turned in on my self? The answers to those questions are not comforting. 

I love the 22nd chapter of the Revelation to John. Verse 17 reads (in the Authorized Version):

And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoeverwill, let him take the water of life freely.

Whosoever will.  What do I will? What is it I really want? Under all the selfishness, the self-deception, the sin, who is it I truly love?

LORD, how I am all ague, when I seek
What I have treasur’d in my memorie !
Since, if my soul make even with the week,
Each seventh note by right is due to thee.
I finde there quarries of pil’d vanities,
But shreds of holinesse, that dare not venture
To shew their face, since crosse to thy decrees :
There the circumference earth is, heav’n the centre.
In so much dregs the quintessence is small :
The spirit and good extract of my heart
Comes to about the many hundredth part.
Yet, Lord, restore thine image, heare my call :
And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone,
Remember that thou once didst write in stone.

George Herbert, “The Sinner”

Written by hans castorp

August 28, 2013 at 5:56 pm

Posted in Faith

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