Exhaling

Our real life, our real work, our real progress, is hidden and interior, burning relentlessly beneath the surface of our actions and interactions and behind the words we use to conceal or reveal that hidden Fire.

If we are content to know one another by words and actions only, we cannot really know more than an outer protective wall. We must “enter in” to know; we must understand each other’s words but also the silences; we can often recognize the frustrations, but we must also find the hope. What are the desires of this heart? This is what we are: what we hope for.

Though our thoughts, desires, judgments, inclinations, joys, and sorrows are often kept hidden, the real self that they create is always trying to make itself known in our words and choices. Others know us in spite of us, as it were, and often know us better than we know ourselves.

Our heart will not be content to remain hidden. “From the fullness of the heart, the mouth speaks.”

So let us strive to know the people God has put in our lives, to “enter in” to their sorrows and joys so that we can serve their real needs, rather than our own projections. This is the purest kind of love of neighbor.

There is nothing “forced” in a true offering of self – it is a total gift, given in love. Only a sacrifice prompted and guided by love can avoid evanescing to a business exchange or a cause for bitterness and resentment, for which we await or demand a return, a reward for our self-renunciation.

A true offering of self does not diminish self at all, nor does it require us to deny our feelings or aspirations. It is an offering of self that sometimes includes voluntarily setting aside the gratification of even our noble desires, but this is always done for love of another. Sacrifice is never an end in itself – it is always the means to something greater, always it opens us more fully to the other, always it clears within us a greater capacity for love.

I will let another speak first, to move us on to the Eucharist and the Mystical Body:

As Christ continues to offer the sacrifice of the Mass through the ministry of His priests, He wishes its fruits to extend to every member of the Mystical Body in need the world over. And every soul that is open to His grace in some measure is benefited by each Mass.

In the Old Testament the Prophet Malachi foretold that from the rising of the sun to the setting a sacrifice, a pure offering, would be offered in the Lord’s name. (Mal.1:11) That prophecy is certainly fulfilled in the Sacrifice of the Cross - extended through the Mass. Every minute of every day and night that sacrifice is being offered somewhere in the world, bringing the fruits of Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary to all souls who are disposed to receive them.

As the heart continually pumps life-giving blood to all members of the human body, so each Mass is like a heartbeat sending life-giving grace of the Divine Head to all members of His Mystical Body who do not place obstacles in the way of His gifts.

St. Paul speaks of Christ in Heaven always making intercession for us before the Father. “Because He continues forever, He has an everlasting priesthood. Therefore He is able at all times to save those who come to God through Him, since He lives always to make intercession for them.” (Heb. 7:25)

That must be understood in the sense that the time will come, at the end of the world, when Christ will hand over His kingdom to the Father. That will be the end of the application of the fruits of His passion, and the last of His intercession for the souls of men; for then the great mystery of the redemption will have been consummated. Then the elect, the Church triumphant, in union with Christ, will offer that oblation of adoration and praise and thanksgiving for all eternity.

                                                                                     - Father Paul A. Duffner, O.P.

Amor proximi 

I sought His love in kneeling throngs of prayer

In liturgies sublime, incensed, communal,

Gathering for myself the perfumed air

And richly vested full confessed tribunal,

I listened for His voice in chant and hymn

From page and word I strained to visualize;

In solitude and quiet rest pursued Him,

But caught my first true glimpse in Samaritan eyes.

So I sacrificed to serve Him in my neighbor –

Gave past my wants to lessen others’ needs.

I’d thought I would find God upon Mount Tabor,

But heart-proof of love is not what glows but bleeds.        

                  The sanguinary road to Calvary we must trod   

                  If we would listen to the heartbeat of God.

There are moments (sometimes when reading the news, sometimes while at prayer) when the sin and evil in the world seem to wash over me like a “dark wave” that overwhelms me. This dark wave is like a tsunami that seems to cover up the beauty of God’s luminous creation, carrying with it a lot of hideous debris and many people, sweeping over everything. It covers all, affects everything, leaves nothing untouched, though some people seem to remain standing and are not totally carried away by its force.

This wave is every kind of darkness and sin, every rejection or obstacle to God’s love and light, from our own personal expedients to our reckless selfishness, from our petty greed to the slaughter of so many innocents, from the deep injustices that breed despair and violence to the outright torture of those we have de-humanized, from the wounds (internal and external) that we inflict on one another to the genocide of madmen, from the woundedness and neediness that reaches toward gluttony and lust and avarice as balm to the deliberate conspiracies of darkness. This wave covers every place I see, making our hearts oblivious to grace, hardened against love, closed up within ourselves in a darkness that appears impenetrable.

My reaction is manifold: I am partly terrified, partly disgusted by the presence of the absolutely evil one, spreading hate and lies; I am profoundly grieved, wounded even, to see so much that offends Love, so few that seem to open themselves fully to goodness and wholeheartedly seek God’s will, so little love; I am moved to pity and sorrow for all those caught in the wave by their ignorance or harmed by the ill will of others.

I want to somehow console a tortured God for all this darkness in His bright world, to stand in the gap with Him, knowing He has already given all to establish His Kingdom within us. Most of the time I see each person caught in the wave and want to rescue each one, to wrap their wounds, cry with them, to risk my own skin to save theirs, to bring His light to every dark place, to help each of these see and reach out to love, to help them know mercy.

But. I can do nothing. The wave is too big. Its force is too powerful, and I am small and weak. I can do nothing on my own, and I am tempted to do nothing, to simply look away, but I cannot. I cannot do nothing, but I see that whatever I do will be useless by itself; I cannot stop this wave, I cannot save anyone.

But with Christ and in Christ, we can do all things. The meaning of the Mystical Body as preached by St. Paul is that we can help each other, even those “others” on the other side of the globe, even those who have already gone before us, even those who have not yet been born. What we do affects others, affects the whole Body, for better or for worse.

  “So we, being many, are one body in Christ, and every one members of another.” (Romans 12)

We can become one with Him, for others.

We are not responsible for eradicating every evil; we are only responsible for holding up truth against every lie and for bringing love to all and each. It is for us to become images of love, love willing to suffer, in this life; victory is His in the end.

And of course, God allows these things to go on, allows sin to exist in the world, to His own purpose – the weeds grow up amidst the beautifully sown wheat, some laborers arrive at the last hour, sin and grace are ever at work in the world. God knows what He is doing. If it were up to us, I’m sure we would have pulled up the weeds growing in the wheat early on, when their weediness was first evident. We would have eliminated that prostitute scandalously washing Christ’s feet, without any concern for the judgment of the self-righteous; you know, the woman who remained with Mary at the foot of the Cross. And I’m certain we would have tossed into the fire that zealot holding the cloaks of those who beat Stephen to the ground with stones; good thing we let God knock him off his high horse instead, or we’d be missing a good chunk of the good Book. And we would certainly have done away with Augustine and Francis and even Ignatius early on. We’re smart enough to know a weed when we see one, after all.

Trust. God’s light shines more brilliantly when things are darkest, the glory of love is clearly manifest in the face of sin, and His mysterious will is ever drawing all things to Himself. He never works fast enough or clearly enough for us. Thankfully. I would certainly not have made it through the first draft picks. In the end, all things work together to His purpose, and He alone can perfectly balance justice and mercy – all creation will know His love and somehow (though all appears dark sometimes) all will be well. His work is being done, His will is being accomplished, and we need not fear even the evil He allows.

His love is infinitely greater than sin. Even the most grievous.

We still have to act in the world. We still have to stand in the gap, still have to do all in our power to work for justice and show mercy and love to all and each. But the continued presence of evil, even when it flows like a “dark wave,” is never cause for despondency, depression, or despair. Somehow, we have to trust that God’s mercy and love will reach each one. We have to be willing to be messengers of that mercy and love. And we know that with Him, we can help others, all others, in a very real way.

We can become one with Him, for others.

While on earth, Christ acted as man but merited as God.

Every action appeared human, but because He is God, those actions could do what no merely human activity could do: reach the Throne of God, because they have infinite value. Only the actions of the God-Man could span the infinite chasm between God and man.

And because this Second Person of the Trinity became one of us (I think we have gotten so used to this stupendous fact that it fails to ring stupendous, too often), we have been given a new dignity, have been lifted up as God’s true children in Him. Sons in the Son. Our dignity and value comes from Him.

From the very beginning, from Adam and Eve, we have been trying to elevate ourselves to a false dignity. Adam and Eve reached for “godlikeness” by reaching for a fruit that promised knowledge. In Babylon, they built a tower to show how big they were. The pharaohs of Egypt were worshipped and their images reverenced. Ancient kings historically demanded this adoration by the masses, putting themselves in a divine position.

Modern times have seen a less obvious but even more pathetic self-aggrandizement, our insatiable need for affirmation turning some into tyrants and murdering megalomaniacs, others into sex objects or philanthropists who blow their own horns before them. There is every gradation in between. And “the masses,” who must adore something, often adore them. We build monuments to us, temples to us, proclaim “how great I art.”

But we are not gods and cannot become gods, no matter how much the devil promises us.

But God can become man!

In stupendous and stupefying condescension, in a perfect balance of justice and mercy capable only of Love Itself, God became one of us and lifted us higher than we could even aspire to be. Because He took on flesh, our flesh is glorified. Because He is one of us, one WITH us, we can participate in the very love-life of the Trinity Itself. We can share God’s life, share His sentiments, walk in His footsteps, love with His own Heart.

He is the Vine, we are the branches; He is the Head, we – the Church – are the Body. Our union, our identification with Him is so true and so complete that the risen Christ knocked Saul off his high horse and asked, “Saul, why do you persecute ME?” Not “My followers” or “my brethren,” but ME.  What is done to one member affects the whole body, including the Head. And no member of the body can act meaningfully or effectively unless directed by the Head (some part that acts out of control of the head is in need of healing!). We are so closely bound with Him that His own divine Life flows through us, animates us, courses through our bodies and souls, giving new value to all we do, making us one with Him and participating in His own activity.

In this mysterious union, we are loved by the Father in a new way. A father does not love only the head of his son, but every part. So by assimilating the whole human race to Himself, Christ has insured that as the Father loves and embraces Him in paternal love, He also loves and embraces all of us.

All of us, but not as a collective. All and each. Each one of us.

More on the Mystical Body soon….