Mar 30., 2022 / Homilies, Soul Food
Third Sunday of Lent: “The God of Extravagant Tenderness”
Fr Greg Boyle, an American Jesuit, is the founding director of Homeboy Industries in LA, the world’s largest gang-intervention and rehab center for inmates and gangsters. He started working with them in the mid-1980s. His latest book titled, “The Whole Language: the Power of Extravagant Tenderness” has an insightful reflection about who God is. Greg writes: A homie says to me: “I see now that I never made it easy for my parents to love me, and yet, they never stopped loving me.” The God who never stops. So, God, in this same way, has a limited vocabulary. God never knows what we’re talking about when we judge our own worthiness or let ourselves get fixated on God’s ‘deep disappointment.’ Often when we think God is silent, this Tender One is just nearly speechless. God is monosyllabic. Love. I’m afraid that’s it. Never stopping.
Many a time in our lives we are so focused on what appears to be God’s “deep disappointment,” disappointment perhaps of a failed marriage, an unsuccessful career, a dysfunctional family. Disappointment in bad decisions we made, stupidities we did, lack of compassion, failures, fears, inadequacies, unworthiness, sinfulness, name it. One priest told me that he could never forgive himself for what he did in the past – again an indication of our perception that God is so deeply disappointed with us.
Our readings today turn this “deep disappointment” narrative upside down. The call of Moses is a great revelation of who God is, one who rescues God’s suffering people. In the burning bush, God says “I am who am.” This does not have a philosophical or existential meaning. It means: “I am actively involved. I am acting. I am liberating my people.” Even if God’s people would turn away from him, worship other gods; yes, even they are so stubborn and sinful, God’s fidelity is constant, never quick to give up. This is very different from the prevailing idea of God as somebody who rewards the good and punishes the evil.
The Vine Dresser and the Fig Tree, James Tissot (1836-1902), The Brooklyn Museum, New York.
We hear a similar tone in the Gospel. The suffering of the Galileans was not because they were more sinful than others, nor was the death of 18 people when the tower at Siloam fell on them an indication that they were more guilty than others in Jerusalem. Rather we see an image of God who gives us time to yield and produce a good fruit. Jesus is like the gardener in the parable, always ready to push the boundaries of possibilities rather than making judgements or assessing our worthiness. Our God does not get tired of expanding his patience threshold: “Sir, leave it for this year also, and I shall cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it; it may bear fruit in the future.” God does not easily give up on us! We may easily give up on ourselves, but this is not our God. The subtitle of Fr Greg Boyle’s book says it all: God has “the power of extravagant tenderness.”
In his TED talk in 2017, Pope Francis called for a “revolution of tenderness” amid so much violence and intolerance we find in our world. He says: “Tenderness is not weakness; it is fortitude. It is the path of solidarity, the path of humility. Please, allow me to say it loud and clear: The more powerful you are, the more your actions will have an impact on people, the more responsible you are to act humbly. If you don’t your power will ruin you, and you will ruin the other.” In this season of Lent, we can never go wrong if we stay and relish in God’s extravagant tenderness, if we simply allow God to be God who is all-loving, never judgmental, never impatient with us. If we can’t change our lives, however much we try and try, let us turn to the God of mercy and allow the Lord’s power of tenderness to take possession of our lives.
Tony Moreno SJ
19 March 2022
