Hosea: God's relentless pursuit

How often do you recall favorite pieces of literature from high school years? One in particular has stuck with me: The Hound of Heaven by the 19th century English poet, Francis Thompson. In that spiritual work, Thompson relates with beautiful imagery, God’s relentless pursuit of him and the many paths by which he ran from God. It is a long piece but a few lines from the poem set the tone for the entire work; a reflection of his own struggle with opium addiction:

I fled Him down the nights and down the days
I fled Him down the arches of the years
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind, and in the midst of tears
I hid from him, . . .

Now of that long pursuit,
Comes at hand the bruit.
That Voice is round me like a bursting Sea . . .

Ah Fondest, Blindest, Weakest,
I am He whom thou seekest.
Thou dravest Love from thee who dravest Me.

It is a testimony to God’s divine fixation on us who, like a hound who is focused on his prey and determined to not rest until the object of his pursuit is captured, in the same way God’s divine grace never tires but overcomes our futile efforts to resist. Sooner or later, however, we must give in and allow ourselves to be captured.

Likewise, the 4th century pagan, turned Christian, turned Bishop, turned theologian, St. Augustine of Hippo, in his often quoted line says much the same:

Great are you, O Lord, and exceedingly worthy of praise; your power is immense, and your wisdom beyond reckoning. And so we men, who are a due part of your creation, long to praise you – we also carry our mortality about with us, carry the evidence of our sin and with it the proof that you thwart the proud. You arouse us so that praising you may bring us joy, because you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is unquiet until it rests in you.

As our week moves on in these warm-hot-warm-hot summer months, at least up here north of the equator, the first reading from this Thursday’s Mass is once again taken from the Book of Hosea – the prophet of doom, restoration, and love. In Hosea 11: 1-4, 8-9, the Lord speaks in the same manner as we hear in the poetry of Thompson and the Confessions of St. Augustine:

“ . . .When Israel was a child I loved him, out of Egypt I have called my son. The more I called them the farther they went from me . . . Yet is was I who taught Ephraim (Israel) to walk, who took them in my arms; I drew them with human cords, with bands of love . . . like one who raises an infant to his cheeks; Yet though I stooped to feed my child, they did not know that I was their healer . . .”

Israel responds as Francis Thompson and St. Augustine; perhaps as we do at times:

“. . . the farther they went from me, Sacrificing to the Baals . . . they did not know that I was their healer . . .”

What seems like an endless cycle of intimacy, desire, and rejection of love, of covenant and promise, of faithfulness and idolatry, is the evident human condition we all experience. It is strange, indeed, as to why Israel was so obstinate. While hindsight is often 20/20 it seems there may be a lesson for us as well.

God is never tiring. He pursues us with a divine determination. In Hosea he reflects upon his anger, his desire to inflict “blazing anger” on this stubborn people for their rejection. But, he pulls back: “I am God and not man, the Holy One present among you . . .” God, it seems, never allows exact justice upon us. He loves us far too much to witness our destruction. Yet, he will tolerate a kind of divine “tough love” in order that we might come to our senses if that’s the only way he can get our attention. Imagine a divine frying pan coming down on your head. “Hey,” God says, “Wake up! I’m here!”

The Gospel for Thursday, Mt 10: 7-15, once again presents the scene of Jesus’ disciples sent forth to preach, “The Kingdom of heaven is at hand.” This desire of God, this message of “good news,” this invitation to take a second look at our life and allow his grace to enter where it is being resisted, is a constant theme throughout the Scriptures.

The Church provides a multitude of means for us to experience this intense divine desire for relationship with humanity; ways in which we live as citizens of this Kingdom of heaven and carry on Jesus’ work: the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the Eucharist, the power of the Scriptures, the support of a vibrant faith community which challenges our modern day obsession with independence, the preservation of marriage and family life, the call to serve in his name in priesthood and religious life, just to name a few.

What Francis Thompson and St. Augustine had in common, after long resistence, was a deep awareness that what the scriptures say about God and what Jesus reveals as the human face of God among us, is indeed true: “Ah, Fondest, Blindest, Weakest – I am He whom thou seekest!”