February 24, 2008
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Third Sunday of Lent, Year A, February 24th, 2008
Confession, adoration, evangelization – the Samaritan woman is an example of all three. This poor, wounded, broken woman with all her dirty laundry of her past sins and failed relationships, with four ex-husbands or ex-boyfriends (whatever you want to call them), and who was now living with someone who was not her husband (a cause for being marginalized and excluded in the society of her time). This woman who felt so much shame she came to the well in the heat of the day when she knew no other women of the village would be there to look down on her, whisper about her, or condemn her. This woman who had experienced so much rejection that she wondered is she was even worthy of love.
This same woman is now world famous, proclaimed in the Gospel to all nations; one could even say that all generations also call her blessed, because she was chosen by Jesus to receive this special revelation of himself as the Messiah. Blessed is she who confessed her sins, who began to adore the Lord in spirit and in truth, and who evangelized her neighbours.
In Jesus’ encounter with her, he leads her to confess her sins during their dialogue when he said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” “I have no husband.” “What you have said is true!”
What has this woman just done? She may not have knelt in the confessional and said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” but she did reveal a painful wound in her heart and began to unveil what was perhaps her greatest sin when she said, “I have no husband.” She is living in sin, to put it bluntly.
And what was Jesus’ response to her confession? “You Samaritan women are all the same. I knew I shouldn’t have asked you for a drink of water!”? No! In the words of Jean Vanier, “he has told her all she has done, without any condemnation or judgement. In fact, she has seen through his eyes, his attitude, the tone of his voice not only respect but love for her. How could this be?” (Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus through the Gospel of John, p. 99)
Come to Reconciliation on Wednesday night and meet the same merciful Jesus that the Samaritan woman encountered. Back then, Jesus patiently sat by a well in the noonday sun. Today, he disguises himself in the robes of the priest, and patiently sits in the confessional, or maybe a chair in the hall, waiting for all those carrying heavy burdens of guilt and sin, waiting for them to come and find rest and refreshment in his meek and humble heart.
On the first night of my retreat the week before last, the Opus Dei priest who directed us suggested we ask ourselves, “what is my deepest fear?” What is your deepest fear? Because in your deepest fear you will probably find your greatest sin that you need to bring to confession, so that Jesus can heal you.
What were they for the Samaritan woman? The sin and shame of a series of broken relationships, and the resulting fear of rejection? But she was not afraid, in talking to Jesus, to be herself and tell the truth: “I have no husband.” (The Samaritan women is like Juno from that current hit movie that bears her name – not afraid to be herself). So you too, on Wednesday night, don’t be afraid to be yourself, to lay it all out there for Jesus, so that he can take away your sin and restore your lost joy.
Jesus leads the Samaritan woman to confession but also adoration. This is (holding it up) the “Foundation Theological Document” for the 49th International Eucharistic Congress to be held in Quebec City June 15th to 22nd. It is entitled The Eucharist: God’s Gift for the Life of the World. Archbishop Prendergast had it in his hand during his talk on the Eucharistic Congress at Theology on Tap on Tuesday night. I believe Cardinal Ouellette helped write this document, but it does not have one single author. Listen to their translation of part of Christ’s conversation with the Samaritan woman, “(he) announced to the Samaritan woman that the Father was seeking those who adored in spirit and in truth” (Jn 4:23-26). The Samaritan woman did begin to adore the Lord in spirit and truth by listening to Jesus and conversing with him, which we also do in our prayer.
The document continues: “the practice of adoration reinforces in the faithful the sense of the sacredness of the Eucharistic celebration which has, unfortunately, decreased in certain areas. Explicitly recognizing the divine presence in the sacred species outside of Mass contributes to promoting the faithful’s active and interior participation in the celebration and helps them to see it as more than a social ritual” (p. 51).
I would like to spend some time on this rich passage: “the sense of the sacredness of the Eucharistic celebration has decreased in certain areas,” and some people see it as a mere “social ritual.” What “areas” are they talking about? They must mean Quebec, right? Because that’s where the Congress is being held. That has nothing to do with us in Ontario . . . or in Russell . . . “the sense of the sacredness of the Eucharistic celebration has decreased in certain areas,” and some people see it as a mere “social ritual.” I’m afraid that these words apply to us as well.
But “explicitly recognizing the divine presence in the sacred species outside of Mass” – by coming to a holy hour, for example — “contributes to promoting the faithful’s active and interior participation in the celebration.” It helps us to better know and love God, and to truly worship him in spirit and in truth during the Mass.
Whom am I inviting to our next holy hour of Eucharistic Adoration, hosted by the Women’s Prayer Group on Friday, March 7th? All of you, including those who have never been. Some of you hear me speaking about holy hours and eucharistic adoration and you have absolutely no idea what I am talking about, and you are afraid to show up here on a Friday night to find out. Maybe there’s some strange Latin chanting and some weird Catholic voodoo goin’ on. Don’t be afraid. It’s only Jesus, and he loves you! “The Teacher (capital “T”) is here and he is calling for you” (Jn 11:28). The foundational theological document applies these words to eucharistic adoration: “Jesus the Teacher, the divine Bridegroom, is here and he is calling for you” – each one of you personally to come spend an hour with him in adoration.
Jesus sat by the well, waiting for the Samaritan woman to come to him, so that he could quench her thirst with the living water of the Holy Spirit and satisfy her heart with his love. He sits in the Church all day waiting for you and I to come to him for the same gifts. What do you do during a holy hour? You can read the Bible, pray the Rosary, sit in silence, think about your life, talk to Jesus. You can do what Mother Teresa used to recommend to her novices: come and say, “here I am Jesus . . . love me!”
Are you too busy to spend one hour with our Lord? Are you booked solid with more important things every single Friday night? Is it not possible for you to tear yourself away once during Lent from your favourite TV show or your video rental to come and spend an hour with Jesus who gave his life for love of you?
I would also like to invite those who love God, and the flame of their baptismal candle is already burning brightly in their hearts. Come to adoration so that the candle will become a blazing furnace of such intense heat that it reaches your neighbour and the person beside you on the pew on Sunday. For this is another way to evangelize people – through our worship.
At the end of my retreat the week before last, I visited a community of monks and nuns in Montreal called the Monastic Communities of Jerusalem, where I had a foretaste of the worship of the saints in heaven. The Church of Saint Sacrament is built like a traditional Roman basilica, rectangular shape with the columns on the side, leading the eye to the sanctuary and the two-story high altar, with paintings in the sanctuary and the ceiling – in every corner beauty for the eye to behold.
In the Church were about 150 people, and in the sanctuary there were young monks in robes on one side, and young nuns in habits on the others, as still as a rock, kneeling in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament. After about a half hour, all the lights came on and the heavenly liturgy began as an angelic voice proceeded to chant the first psalm of evening prayer. Suddenly, my eyes filled with tears and I felt the Holy Spirit lifting me up, because of the beauty of their worship of God in spirit and in truth, and the fire of God’s love in their hearts that leaped out to encompass everyone in the Church that evening.
To those who love God, you have a similar mission. Consider the mission of the Samaritan women. She met God in Jesus and personally experienced his love, which set her heart on fire with love, which compelled her to share it with others. Come to adoration, so that in quiet conversation with Jesus, he will set your heart on fire more and more. So that when you worship and adore God in the Eucharist, the flame in your heart will touch the person next to you, who may be attending Mass as a mere “social ritual.” The joy with which you sing, the intensity with which you pray – these will serve to evangelize your lukewarm neighbour. So come to adoration.
Normally I would end my homily there, but the Spirit is impelling me to speak for two more minutes on evangelization. My brothers and sisters in Christ, it should not be a burden to tell our unbelieving neighbours about Jesus, or to invite our non-practicing or non-regular friends and neighbours to come and adore the Lord at Mass every Sunday. Was it a burden for the Samaritan woman to evangelize her neighbours? Did she trudge into the village and say (bored voice) “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did” (Jn 4:29). “What do you mean ‘everything you ever did?’” “Oh, yeah, there’s some guy at the well who thinks he’s a prophet, so maybe you want to see him . . . I dunno . . . that is if you don’t have anything better to do . . . that is, if you’re not busy shopping, or hockey, or something like that . . . he’s over at the well.”
Is that how the Samaritan women evangelized her neighbours? No way! She left her water jar behind and forgot everything, and ran into the village and yelled out to everyone (With enthusiasm) “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did! Only God can know that! He must be from God! He must be the Messiah!”
How do you talk about Jesus Christ to your friends and neighbours? (Bored) “I’m going to Mass . . . it’s a social ritual . . . it’s kind of boring . . . but if you don’t have anything better to do . . . we can go out for (dinner/breakfast) after and you can pay.”
People who have truly met Jesus Christ don’t talk like that. Instead, a Christian who is evangelizing his or her neighbours might say: “Come and see a man who . . . who is also God – Jesus Christ, true God and true man, who knows everything we’ve ever done . . . but he doesn’t condemn us; he still loves us. Come and . . . confess your sins. You’d feel a lot better, believe me. Come and worship the Lord in spirit and truth. Come to this well of living water, and quench your thirst for all eternity – your thirst for meaning, for love, for joy.”
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February 17, 2008
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Second Sunday of Lent
February 17, 2008
The account of the Transfiguration in today’s Gospel places us at the beginning of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, and ultimately His death and Resurrection. Notice that He only takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain with Him, not the others. These are the Apostles closest to Him, sort of His inner circle. Our English translations say use the words “took” and “led them”, but the Greek word used in the original text is paralambanei, which indicate more of a sense of Jesus taking them under His wing, so to speak – an implication of protection and of teaching. He takes them “by themselves”; this is a very privileged event, reserved only for these three.
As His friends, the Apostles spent their daily lives with Jesus. Even though they had seen Him perform wondrous miracles, they also were with Him for the more routine things in life. As can be the case for anyone in those circumstances, perhaps a bit of complacency was setting in to their relationship with Jesus. Their witness of His transfiguration would certainly shake them out of this complacency. As a deacon from the fourth century, St. Ephrem of Syria, said, “He led them up the mountain to show them the glory of His divinity, and to teach them that He was the Redeemer of Israel. He showed them His majesty before suffering, before being abused and humiliated. In this way, they could understand that none of this happened because of His weakness, but with His consent, for the salvation of the world”. So they learned that He wasn’t just their friend and teacher, He was, and is, divine.
At least to begin with, the Apostles were amazed, but not overcome. Peter even had the presence of mind to suggest that they make tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Perhaps he was anticipating, or hoping, that this moment was to continue longer than it did. But their amazement quickly turned to fear when the cloud came over them, and a voice from the cloud said “This is My Son, the Beloved, with Him I am well pleased; listen to Him”. Listen to Him. Although they were already following Jesus, and had certainly been paying attention to what He did and said, they now had a divine mandate to do so. As they kneel in fear, Jesus’ touch brings them consolation. It is His touch that is so often associated with miracles, with healing and comfort. After this incredible experience, as they return from the mountain, Jesus instructs them not to tell anyone – yet. Can you imagine trying to keep something like that to yourself, to keep it a secret? Most of us would want to tell everyone we know. And these three must have wanted to share their story with the other Apostles. But, there is a time for all of this to be revealed, and that time was yet to come.
So what does this mean to us now, during Lent in 2008? The Gospel doesn’t seem to suggest the penance and sacrifice we usually associate with this season. What are we doing during Lent? Have we given something up, as is tradition for many of us; or are we doing something additional to help others; or maybe a combination of the two? Whatever we are doing, it should cause us to make real changes in our lives, changes that bring a heightened awareness of God, that allow us to listen to His word.
Perhaps we do the same thing every Lent, year after year, until what was once a productive sacrifice has become routine. I’ll share something from my childhood with you. My mom was a great cook. Not just in the way that all children consider their mother’s cooking to be the best; her meals were always excellent because they were prepared with both skill and love. We were quite poor when I was a child, but she did magnificent things with the food she had to work with. One of her specialties was baking pies. She always made her pie crust from scratch, with flour and lard. For those of us who can remember such things, it was hard work, but it made for a delicious, flaky crust. The reason I tell you this is because my dad loved those pies, yet he would give up pie every lent. That was a great sacrifice for him. I’m sure it made some difference to him, and he is to this day a very devout man. But after many years of doing the same thing, perhaps making some other sacrifice would have given him more benefit. And so it may be with ourselves. We need our Lenten actions to take us out of our routine, and to help rekindle the fire of our love for God. Our sacrifice is not an end in itself; it is a means to assist us in finding our answer to our call to holiness.
We must not think that holiness is just something for others – for, say, saints, or priests, or deacons, to strive for – holiness is for everyone, all the time. All people, no matter who they are, are called to be holy. But we are all naturally weak, and need to work to strengthen ourselves. Our acts of self-denial during lent can help us to move in that direction if we make the connection between our sacrifice and Jesus’ sacrifice; if our actions lead us into a deeper acceptance of what God is asking of us.
For the Apostles, the Transfiguration is an encounter with the glorified Christ. They see Jesus in a way that they never could have imagined. But if what they see affects them, it is what they hear that affects them more. “Listen to Him”. This instruction applies to us as well. It is what we hear, the Word of God, that should affect us. And we ourselves encounter Christ in ways beyond what the Apostles did that day on the mountain. In the sacraments, especially in reconciliation and the Eucharist, we meet Jesus on a very personal level. And Adoration, as we have during out Holy Hours here, is like having a private audience with Our Lord. These are avenues to God that are accessible to all Catholics, including those children soon to receive First Holy Communion and Confirmation. These sacraments, provided for us by Jesus, can give us strength to become closer to Him and to be obedient to His word. Our spiritual life, our holiness, is not separate from the rest of our life. We should remember our encounters with Christ, even treasure them, and allow them to support and comfort us, to bolster our faith. Of course, even Peter had difficulty with this. After what he had seen on the mountain, his courage still failed him, and he denied Jesus three times. We have all experienced the hand of God in our lives, though we don’t always recognize it, but we too sometimes forget this in moments of temptation and trial.
Our Lenten sacrifices can create for us moments in which we can listen to Jesus, and see Him, not just with our ears and with our eyes but with our hearts and our souls. We are only at the Second Sunday of Lent; it is still early in our Lenten journey. Let’s really make our best effort to listen to Him, to use this time to make the necessary changes in our lives, and to draw closer to God in ways that will last beyond the next five weeks.
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February 10, 2008
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
First Sunday of Lent, Year A, Feb. 10th, 2008
Today is World Marriage Sunday – did you know? Everyone knows that Valentine’s Day is coming up. As a priest, I am a little bit out of touch with Valentine’s Day. Is it just for boyfriends and girlfriends, or do all married couples celebrate it? . . . Well, World Marriage Day is the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. We are not focusing on it as we did on other years because the first Sunday of Lent takes precedence – the story of the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert, being tempted by the devil.
But I would like to talk about something that applies to all marriages – the virtue of perseverance in temptation, perseverance in all our commitments and vocations, so that we can become more fully human. (As an aside, so no one feels left out, I want to emphasize that there are other ways of being committed to God and people besides marriage, priesthood or religious life).
In our times, the devil successfully tempts many people to avoid or break their commitments. He tempts young people to fear life-long commitment as an impossible ideal, or as a dangerous trap that would stifle their individuality. Others who are called to priesthood or religious life, he often tempts them away from serving GOD ALONE to seeking consolation in the lust of the eyes, the lusts of the flesh and the pride of life (1 Jn 2:16). He tempts married couples to break the solemn vows they made to love and honour each other all the days of their life, and priests and religious to break their vows to serve GOD ALONE until death.
As Scripture says, the devil prowls day and night, looking for someone to devour, so we must resist him, solid in our faith (1 Peter 5:8-9).
I don’t have time to describe all the ways in which God allows priests to be tempted – and tortured! You have no idea! On the other hand, I have no idea of the trials many of you are going through. If you would tell me, I would listen and pray for you; if you would tell me in the confessional, I would absolve you. None of us are as pure and strong as Jesus, or as holy and immaculate as Mary; we have all given in to temptation at times and we all need confession. But that’s another topic . . .
People have some pretty silly and naive impressions about the devil. In order to tempt you, do you think he is actually going to appear to you in red tights and introduce himself with a little song? (“I’m the dirty devil/ Got a red pitchfork/ Gonna poke ya in the butt). Of course not, because the “serpent is more crafty than any other creature” (Gen 3:1); he is prowling around to prey on our weaknesses.
What do today’s readings tell us about the wiles of the devil and the ways in which he tempts us? The devil tempted Christ to break his commitment to doing the Father’s will as the suffering Messiah. The devil tempted Adam and Eve to break their covenant commitment with God; he persuaded them to doubt God’s love and goodness and to disobey his commands. The devil tempted them and he tempts us because he hates humanity, he is envious of us, and he wants to destroy us by seducing us into his rebellion against God. But why does he focus so much energy nowadays deceiving people into avoiding or breaking their commitments, especially the life-long commitment of our chosen vocation?
Because he knows, even better than we do, that it is only through perseverance in a life-long commitment that we can become fully human. I wonder if people today fully appreciate this truth: it is only through perseverance in a life-long commitment that we can become fully human. Why? First of all, we become fully human by becoming more like Christ who laid his life down for us, and who persevered until death in his commitment to do his Father’s will.
And every vocation is meant to teach us how to love as Christ loved. There is no love without commitment. Love without commitment is called selfishness. As Scripture says, a person without commitments to God and others is “like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed about by the wind. (Such a) person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord, since he is a man of two minds, unstable in all his ways” (Ja 1:6-7).
Every vocation demands love. A husband, wife, children or God’s people, demand and deserve love. And God, who is the source and goal of every vocation, and who loves us with an infinite love, demands that we be open to growing in love incessantly, every day of our lives, up until our very last breath.
In marriage, two people don’t simply grow old together. (That is an achievement in itself, but it is not enough) Two swans who are mating can do that – grow old together. But married couples are meant to grow in love continually, to be transfigured and divinized together! By persevering in the life-long commitment of our chosen vocation, we become fully human, and in the end, one with God.
Scripture reminds us: “Blessed are those who persevere in temptation” (Ja 1:12). Blessed are those who persevere in temptation in the desert, because only those who cross the desert will taste the fruit of the promised land and experience the peace that surpasses understanding. Every vocation demands love and commitment, and every vocation includes the desert, time spent among stones, sand and cactii.
And our human nature does not like the desert . . . unless it’s by the ocean . . . at a resort . . . with Corona! But that’s not the desert of Lent! I don’t see any Coronas among the cacti in our “desert scene” before the altar, do you? We don’t like the desert because it represents all that is unpleasant, difficult or painful to our human nature, all the truths we must face about ourselves and others if we are to grow as human beings in marriage, priesthood or any other life-long commitment.
But if we face them, and if we persevere through all temptations, we will become fully human and transfigured in Christ.
But we must persevere! And if we do, God himself will turn the stones into bread of the finest wheat, and give us the bread of heaven in the Eucharist, this bread that heals us of our venial sins and preserves us from future mortal sins and strengthens us in all temptations (CCC #1394-5).
We must face the tempter, and face him down. “Away with you Satan!” (Mt 4:10). The Catechism states that “it is by prayer that Jesus vanquishes the tempter” (CCC #2849). Remember the prayer that Jesus taught us? It includes these words: “lead us not into temptation.” As the Catechism clarifies, in this petition we are really asking, “do not let us yield to temptation” (#2846)
To your “Our Fathers” I would recommend adding some “Hail Marys.” (Monday/tomorrow), February 11th, is the 150th anniversary of the apparition of the Blessed Virgin Mary at Lourdes, France, where she identified herself by saying, “I am the Immaculate Conception.” (Very reminiscent of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal, and the pray on the medal:“O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.” From the first moment of her Immaculate Conception, she crushed the serpent’s proud head. Let us stay close to Jesus and Mary, and they will protect us from the Evil One, help us to overcome temptation, to persevere in our vocations, to become fully human, and in the end, one with God.
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February 3, 2008
Posted in Homilies
at 9:00 am
Fourth Sunday of Ordinary Time, Year A, February 3, 2008
Do you know anyone who likes to talk a lot about himself or herself, and when done talking says, “well, that’s enough about me, what do you think about me?” Do you know anyone like that? There’s so much pride, vanity and miserable self-centeredness among us human beings. On the other hand, do you know anyone who is truly humble? Would you say that you are a humble person? The trick with humility is: the moment you think you are humble, then you know you are not.
The first reading urges us to, “Seek the Lord, all you humble of the land, who do his commands; seek righteousness, seek humility” (Zephaniah 2:3)
Jesus praises humility in the Gospel when he announces, “Blessed or happy are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” and “blessed or happy are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:3, 5). The poor in spirit and the meek are those who are humble. Blessed and happy are the humble.
Humility is the foundation of all the other virtues. I remember a talk given by Fr. Paul Burchat of Madonna House at Theology on Tap last winter on the role of the virtues in the spiritual life. He gave us a picture of a building with an arch called “charity” held up by two columns called “faith” and “hope” all standing on a rock foundation called “humility” – the foundation of all virtue.
Pride, the opposite of humility, destroys all virtue. The moment we start looking into the mirror and turning in upon ourselves, thinking, “I am so humble” or “I am so generous” or “I am so good” or whatever – we begin to destroy that virtue through pride.
“Humility is truth,” as saints and spiritual writers remind us – the truth of who we are before God – creatures who in and of ourselves are nothing.
Consider St. Francis, when he was about to die, he asked some of his friars to lay him naked on the ground, so that he could be humbled by this reminder of his nothingness. “Remember you are dust, and unto dust you will return,” as we often say during the imposition of ashes on Ash Wednesday.
But humility is much more than awareness of our nothingness. I’ve been reading the spiritual classic Transformation in Christ by Dietrich Von Hildebrand, called by some a 20th century doctor of the Church, who already in the 1930′s was such a renowned and influential Catholic professor and writer that Hitler tried to have him assassinated! In his chapter on humility, he points out that only in a secondary sense is humility a recognition of our own unimportance. “What (humility) demands,” he writes, “is not a reluctant or resigned admission of our nothingness: it is, primarily, a joyous response to the infinite glory of God” (Transformation in Christ, p. 159). He continues: “Humility calls upon us to allow our hearts to be wounded by the glory of God, to fall on our knees in loving adoration, and to deliver ourselves over to God entirely . . . (so that) our center of gravity is thus transferred from ourselves to God” (160).
With this in mind, I can easily tell you who is the most humble person in our parish on any given Sunday – it is the one who most delights in the glory of God, who sings at the top of his or her voice, in total self-forgetfulness, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth!” (By the way, the Gloria is an important part of Mass, first appearing in 380 A.D. and entering into the Roman Mass by the 6th century (Jungmann, The Mass, p. 171)).
I’m afraid that our anemic weekly repetition of the Gloria may be an indication of our lack of humility and our lack of awareness of and appreciation for the infinite glory of God. And I include myself in this reproach. Sometimes it seems like the most insincere and uninspiring part of Mass is the Gloria, as if we don’t mean a single word of what we are saying: (monotone voice): “Glory to God in the highest . . . we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory.” (With mock enthusiasm: “Come to our parish and join with us in adoring and praising the Holy Trinity!)
And I am also culpable – sometimes I daydream during the Gloria; my heart and mind are not in my song, etc . . . We all need to wake up and remember in our hearts the Person we are praising with our lips. God is a real Person who wants a relationship with us. Let us sing the Gloria, in the words of Von Hildebrand, being “filled with the blissful consciousness that the infinitely perfect Person – God who is omnipotent, omniscient, and all good – is the (source) of all being” (159).
I think I’ve discovered the culprit that prevents us from giving glory to God in the Mass and in our daily lives (hold up small black mirror). It is tiny but very pretentious. Every one of us, unless one has reached the abyss of humility before the infinite glory of God, carries one of these around with us. You may not have one in your pocket or your purse, but spiritually speaking, each one of us carries one of these around with us. What is it? A mirror. (Excuse me (looking in mirror), sometimes when I put on my chasuble my hair sticks up. I just want to make sure it’s OK).
We cannot be gazing up into heaven and gazing at the mirror at the same time. We cannot be looking at God and looking at ourselves at the same time. It has to be one or the other. If we are busy thinking about ourselves, caught up in the “cares of the world, the lure of wealth and the desire for other things” (Mk 5:19) then we can’t really sing the Gloria. (Looking in mirror and mumbling): “Glory to God in the highest.”
What can we do to throw out our mirrors, glorify God and discover the blessedness, the happiness of the humble, of those who are meek and poor in spirit? We need to begin by seeing this virtue of humility as attractive and desirable, and begin to ask God incessantly for true humility.
One of the beautiful fruits of humility that we all desire is joy. I’m not talking about mere pleasure or worldly happiness, but exceeding joy. The Blessed Virgin Mary is a perfect example. In her Magnificat, she exclaimed, “My spirit rejoices exceedingly in God my Saviour, for he has looked with favour upon the humility of his servant” (Luke 1:47-8).
Our Lord himself is another example. In his time on earth, Jesus also rejoiced exceedingly in the Holy Spirit (Lk 10:21) because he humbled himself, taking on the form of a slave. In each Eucharist he continues to humble himself far lower than taking on the form of a slave; he takes on the form of bread. Some kids at the school ask me, “If God wants us to believe in Him, then why does he hide himself?” God hides himself in the host because of humility, and because he loves us. He does not want to force our love, to blind us overpower us, or destroy us through the full revelation of his glory.
Is God not allowed to humble himself? Or are we going to love him less because he humbles himself? He is still a Person even though he is humble and hidden. When we receive the host at Mass, we do not receive a thing; we receive a Person! Jesus in the Host is not a thing; he is a Person, who in his humility makes us happy: “Behold the Lamb of God” . . . hidden in this host . . . “Happy are those who are called to his supper”!
That’s one reason I agree whole-heartedly with our Pope and our Bishop in their promotion of Eucharistic Adoration. A holy hour is an opportunity to put away our mirrors, to humble and empty ourselves of all the noise and distraction, to gaze upon God and realize that this Host is indeed the Person of the Infinite God. When we truly realize this, then we will sing to Jesus in the Gloria with all our hearts: “You alone are the holy one, you alone are the Lord, you alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the Glory of God the Father.”
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