Christ Looks for Silence

I once knew a couple who had been married for over seventy years. Some people would say, “They’ve been together so long, they even look like each other!” They came to Mass together every day, and I was always struck by the way they looked at one another. If one of them was speaking to me, the other was looking at the other with this glow of absolute affection. They were something else. They weren’t rich. They weren’t powerful. They were, however, in love. As old as they were, when you looked at them, you felt like they were still a couple of love-struck kids during their first week of dating. I am certain that in seventy years of marriage, that couple had its share of sorrows, hardships, and disappointments. Every life does. There was routine to their marriage. They got up and went to work, did laundry, and did all of the mundane activities that fill the hours of most of our lives. The ordinary did not suffocate their vocation. Instead, they lived the ordinary circumstances of life as an adventure. Sometimes, we think that the ordinary is the enemy of our happiness. People search for thrills to distract themselves from the ordinary. But, happiness is not found in fleeing the ordinary. It is discovered in living the ordinary differently. They lived the ordinary in a supernatural way. Every Sunday we come together for Mass. We are fairly ordinary people. We come together from our ordinary lives. We take ordinary bread and ordinary wine and place them upon the altar. In some sense, when the ordinary bread and the ordinary wine are placed upon the altar, we are also placing our ordinary selves–our ordinary lives–upon the altar too. The danger for us, however, is to allow ourselves to forget that what is happening is supernatural. That ordinary bread and wine are supernaturally transformed. We who receive the Eucharist are, in turn, transformed. The Eucharist transforms us and we, in turn, live our ordinary lives differently because we do not live on mere ordinary bread, but rather are nourished by and with God Himself. We who are changed are then sent into the world as seeds of the Kingdom. There’s a risk in Catholic life that instead of allowing the extraordinary to permeate the ordinary and elevate it, we attempt to make the extraordinary ordinary and cheapen it. If Mass, for example, becomes merely me “checking the box” of my religious duty this week, then something is lacking. If my approach to Mass is, “as long as it doesn’t interfere with the other things in my life, I’m okay with it,” something is missing. If I treat the Mass (and the Eucharist) like I am the customer and the parish is the service-provider, something is missing. Sometimes people allow their Catholic life to become rather functionary and transactional. It becomes stagnant. Think of what Jesus says in the gospel when he says, “What good is salt if it loses its flavor?” Much of our lives as Catholics does involve rather ordinary activity. When we come to Mass on Sunday, something extraordinary–something supernatural–occurs. Ordinary bread and wine become the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ. And, we consume the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Christ. We receive God. The more we take time to ponder our Faith, the more we come to know and appreciate the extraordinary gift of it. This is why preparing for Mass by silence, prayer, and meditation are so important. Before Mass, we prepare by saying things like, “Lord, I am here and am about to receive you–Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. Jesus, help me to really know what I am doing and Who I am receiving. Help me unite myself to you in this Holy Mass. Help me to really pray this Mass well and to offer myself–every aspect of my life–with you to the Father.” After we receive Holy Communion, we spend time in awe and wonder that God loves us so much that He has given Himself to us in this spectacular way. The Christ who was born of Mary, the Christ who called and taught the apostles, who healed the sick, who forgave sinners, who died on the Cross, who rose from the Dead . . . that very same Christ has now given Himself entirely to me because He loves me. We take this time to thank Jesus for His love and for the privilege of this communion with Him. Without this Eucharistic amazement, our Catholic life risks becoming consumeristic and hollow. If you feel ever that you are in a rut or that your Faith life is not growing, that you are not growing in virtue, growing in greater love for God and for your neighbor, perhaps begin by spending time before each Mass really praying and pondering what is about to happen, and then, spend time after receiving the Eucharist really adoring God whom you have received. The most extraordinary moment of our week (or day) is when we receive the Eucharist. It enables us to live every ordinary moment in a supernatural way. That elderly couple looked at each other with a devotion and love that made them young in heart and their marriage seem both like an old treasure and a new discovery. That is how we want to approach the Eucharist, and that begins by spending time preparing to receive the Eucharist and in spending time thanking God for the gift of the Eucharist. Your Brother in Christ, Fr. David Barnes