"But
after you have received your Lord, endeavor to shut the eyes of the
body and open those of the soul, since you possess His very person
within you" (The Way of Perfection, St. Teresa of Avila). *
* *
Our spiritual journeys can be turbulent and exciting. There are those times when Christ seems so close that we can sense his breath; yet, for me anyway, there exist frequent periods where his absence is felt. Most often this aridity can be, to some extent, a result of my own inner struggles and the proclivity to rely on my own will. Of course, we all can relate to how well that disposition works!
Approaching Jesus in the Holy Eucharist this morning I could not help but be drawn to his unity with the Father, "I and the Father are one" (John 10:30 RSVCE). Total focus had been on his presence throughout the service, but none was more palatable than when drawing near the altar and genuflecting before our Lord as the extraordinary minister reverently placed him on my tongue. Time stops, the temporal fades, the body enters the ethereal - this delicate passage is brief, a taste of what awaits beyond the narrow gate.
Returning to my closet (chair/pew) to pray and ingest what was transpiring, it was realized in that moment how unified the Son and I were. Quite literally. See, he was stuck to the roof of my mouth!
Recognizing the necessity to consume our Lord completely (the concluding hymn was soon approaching and it would be uncouth to attempt singing with the possibility of Jesus being unceremoniously flung out), the gentle process of dislodging him commenced. I was flooded with a rush of imagery when my tongue tore a hole in his flesh: Immediately, I became present at the Crucifixion when the "soldiers pierced his side with a spear" (John 19:34 RSVCE). That flesh was united with mine!
The initial thoughts were dark and heavy, each drawing attention to how many times I had pierced our Lord through inattentiveness to him and indulgence of self. But such did not correspond with the message of this particular morning. Then the extraordinary minister, during her reflections, had given emphasis to the mercy of our Lord by gesturing towards the Divine Mercy artwork which depicted the saving graces of blood and water gushing forth from his side. From this perspective, notwithstanding that I had pierced his side, Jesus was sharing his willingness to forgive and embrace, to become one with me. Wow.
In this same artwork there is a mantra inscribed on the bottom: "Jesus, I trust in you." Is this not the foundation of our faith? But how do we cultivate trust? As Fr. Donald S. Raila, O.S.B. has so eloquently shared: "[Jesus] uses all circumstances to encourage us to die to self, to be converted in His love" (Lessons from St. Benedict).
To let go of our wants and selfishness is difficult, to say the least. There are always those lingering doubts to contend with: Does God really exist? Am I truly redeemable (assuming he does exist)? How can I sacrifice known comforts to follow a path which is riddled with failure and persecution? Trust. It all comes back to trust. A significant component of my belief is derived from encounters with the Holy Eucharist. "[R]emember that the risen Christ comes to us in the least expected people and situations" (Fr. Raila).
If we routinely recognize his presence in our lives, how can we deny his existence or the responsibility to respond!
Marana tha....
Our spiritual journeys can be turbulent and exciting. There are those times when Christ seems so close that we can sense his breath; yet, for me anyway, there exist frequent periods where his absence is felt. Most often this aridity can be, to some extent, a result of my own inner struggles and the proclivity to rely on my own will. Of course, we all can relate to how well that disposition works!
Approaching Jesus in the Holy Eucharist this morning I could not help but be drawn to his unity with the Father, "I and the Father are one" (John 10:30 RSVCE). Total focus had been on his presence throughout the service, but none was more palatable than when drawing near the altar and genuflecting before our Lord as the extraordinary minister reverently placed him on my tongue. Time stops, the temporal fades, the body enters the ethereal - this delicate passage is brief, a taste of what awaits beyond the narrow gate.
Returning to my closet (chair/pew) to pray and ingest what was transpiring, it was realized in that moment how unified the Son and I were. Quite literally. See, he was stuck to the roof of my mouth!
Recognizing the necessity to consume our Lord completely (the concluding hymn was soon approaching and it would be uncouth to attempt singing with the possibility of Jesus being unceremoniously flung out), the gentle process of dislodging him commenced. I was flooded with a rush of imagery when my tongue tore a hole in his flesh: Immediately, I became present at the Crucifixion when the "soldiers pierced his side with a spear" (John 19:34 RSVCE). That flesh was united with mine!
The initial thoughts were dark and heavy, each drawing attention to how many times I had pierced our Lord through inattentiveness to him and indulgence of self. But such did not correspond with the message of this particular morning. Then the extraordinary minister, during her reflections, had given emphasis to the mercy of our Lord by gesturing towards the Divine Mercy artwork which depicted the saving graces of blood and water gushing forth from his side. From this perspective, notwithstanding that I had pierced his side, Jesus was sharing his willingness to forgive and embrace, to become one with me. Wow.
In this same artwork there is a mantra inscribed on the bottom: "Jesus, I trust in you." Is this not the foundation of our faith? But how do we cultivate trust? As Fr. Donald S. Raila, O.S.B. has so eloquently shared: "[Jesus] uses all circumstances to encourage us to die to self, to be converted in His love" (Lessons from St. Benedict).
To let go of our wants and selfishness is difficult, to say the least. There are always those lingering doubts to contend with: Does God really exist? Am I truly redeemable (assuming he does exist)? How can I sacrifice known comforts to follow a path which is riddled with failure and persecution? Trust. It all comes back to trust. A significant component of my belief is derived from encounters with the Holy Eucharist. "[R]emember that the risen Christ comes to us in the least expected people and situations" (Fr. Raila).
If we routinely recognize his presence in our lives, how can we deny his existence or the responsibility to respond!
Marana tha....
No comments:
Post a Comment