Thursday, October 4, 2007

Today’s text

Luke 16:23-29

In Hades, where [the rich man] was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, “Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.” But Abraham said, “Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us. He said, “Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.” Abraham replied, “They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.”

Prayer

Where, Merciful One, do prophets cry out, calling us beyond prudence to passion for your holy reign? Your voice is present in all the Earth. You never leave us without voices that love you and your blessed future far more than personal victory, far beyond the fading joys fashioned by human hands.

Helps us to hear the voices of your prophets, the abused child or spouse, the hungry deprived of bread and simplest human decency, the souls who invite us beyond every violence of hand and speech into which so much of our conversation degenerates.

Even the cries of our own souls are your prophets, Inescapable One. They whisper deep truth in our unguarded moments, telling us … again … that all we consume cannot fill the empty ache that is your insistent voice. You call to us at that unreachable point of our souls where your holy desire and our deepest need for real bread speak with a single voice.

You never leave yourself without a voice, Holy One. Moses and a multitude of prophets speak what your love gives and requires. Close my busy lips that I may hear. I make too much noise. I fear losing you amid the clamor. Call to me in silence.

Pr. David L. Miller