Active Participation

What I wrote yesterday must be balanced with the call of Pope St Pius X and Vatican II for the active participation of the faithful in the Church's work of praise. Is it perhaps the case that 'full and active participation' is controversial because it is understood in a modernist, subjectivist context? In other words, we don't feel like we are participating unless we are 'getting something out of it?'

In contending that the effects of the sacrifice of the Mass should not be judged by our subjective response, I am not therefore advocating a return to mandatory attendance without comprehension (and certainly not routine abstention from communion). Rather, the gravity of the Mass calls for a deeper penetration of the liturgical action by our minds and hearts than a mere participation in something that makes me feel better.

Part of my strong response to our present circumstance, as I indicated yesterday, is the overwhelming fact of injustice, cruelty and despair in the world. The Precious Blood shed on the Cross is offered 'for you and for all so that sins may be forgiven'. Christ's death is the answer to horrible mystery of sin and suffering. Our conscious consent to bind ourselves to the New Covenant in His Blood means that we, too, become an offering 'so that sins may be forgiven'. We partake, therefore, in the Church's liturgical celebration in praise of God not merely to get a nugget of insight each day (though we should welcome this when it happens), but to 're-present' the saving Sacrifice and 're-enlist' in the struggle against evil and death. On a mystical level, this is of supreme consequence for those who suffer now, but whose lives we cannot directly affect by corporal works of mercy (it also implies our obligation to help those whom we can). Rather, we implore God to remember His mercy by placing ourselves at the foot of the Cross 'in memory of' our dear Savior Jesus Christ.

Mystagogia Epsilon

Sursum corda: Lift up your hearts!

If, as I suggested at the beginning of this series, the Liturgy of the Word corresponds to the catechumenate, then the solemn beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist corresponds to the illumination of baptism. Instructed by God's Word and actively working to uproot vice and plant virtue in our hearts, we prepare to enter God's presence in a fitting state. The first movement in this preparation is to exclude from our hearts any worldliness, and lift our hearts up to ponder heavenly realities. The Cherubic Hymn, used in Orthodox liturgies, beautifully exhorts us in this regard:

"Let us who mystically represent the cherubim now lay aside all earthly cares. That we may receive the King of all Who comes invisibly upborne by the angelic hosts. Alleluia!"

If it is our task to represent the very cherubim who attend at God's throne, we have to make the effort to situate ourselves there, in heaven, away from the world.

At the risk of repeating myself, I believe it is important one last time to recall the prerequisites for receiving the King of all: "Lord, who shall be admitted to your tent and dwell on your holy mountain?" Answer: "He who walks without fault; he who acts with justice and speaks the truth from his heart; he who does not slander with his tongue; he who does no wrong to his brother, who casts no slur on his neighbor, who holds the godless in disdain but honors those who fear the Lord; he who keeps his pledge, come what may; who takes no interest on a loan and accepts no bribe against the innocent. Such a man will stand firm forever. [Ps. 15; cf. Ps. 24, and Ps. 118: 19-20]"

This requires an act of imagination. The King comes to us invisibly, and when He does manifest Himself, He does so not yet fully in glory, but in the humility of bread and wine, transformed into His Body and Blood, sacrificed upon the Cross.

I suppose many today ask if this is 'realistic' or 'worth it'. Many of us would, without much forethought, perhaps prefer more tangible results, like smiling parishioners who make us feel good to be there. Nothing against smiles and hospitality, but here is where I believe that we need mystagogy, an appreciation of the mysteries so badly. When life throws us curveballs, such as when the person we are counting on to smile has encountered terrible suffering and isn't smiling today, if our faith is only supported by this human effort, it is going to wither. We need to "seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God [Col 3: 2]." It is this Christ, raised from the dead, triumphant over all human failing and dealing the death-blow to death itself, Who gives us confidence in the face of trials. Only Christ can save us: no amount of effort at warm fellow-feeling can save us from death.

"Lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet....For you have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest, and the sound of a trumpet....But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, and to innumerable angels in festal gathering! [Heb 12: 12, 18-19, 22]" Would that we truly believed this in our hearts! What could stop us from being saints?

Does our turning our backs on the world mean disdain for those in the world, or the many blessings of creation? Me genoito! May such a thing not be said! We will be sent back into the world as Christ's ambassadors, but if we do not return to the world having received Christ's presence, and the grace to triumph over temptation, then what will we bring to the world that the world does not already have in some way? No; we must bring Christ, and to bring Christ, we must first receive Him, invisibly upborne by the angelic hosts. To receive Him, we must lift up our hearts to Him.

May the peace that surpasses all understanding be with you!

Homily for the Memorial of St. Stanislaus

"My Flesh is true food and my Blood is true drink. Unless you eat the Flesh of the Son of Man and drink his Blood, you do not have life within you."

All of us must eat to survive. Our life, in a sense, is always borrowed; it is taken from some other life. When we eat an ear of corn, the corn itself, which had been living at one time, is destroyed and incorporated into our bodies. When we enjoy a McDonald’s hamburger, or rather, when we eat a McDonald’s hamburger, whether we enjoy it or not, we are rarely cognizant of the fact that somewhere an animal had to give its life so that we could take its flesh, grind it up and consume it.

The Second Person of the Holy Trinity, the Word of God, became Flesh and dwelt among us. He did this not merely to set an example, though He did this (and I will return to this point). He becomes Flesh in order to give this Flesh for the life of the world. Now, like the poor cow that died to become a Big Mac, Our Lord also had to die in order to become our true food. Two lessons follow from this fact.

First of all, since Jesus Christ is not only a man who died but also God’s Son Who was raised up and dies no more, the life that we have within us when we eat his Flesh is not the sort of life that we receive when we eat other kinds of food. This is spiritual food that brings eternal life; it is indeed, God’s life that becomes our own life, and this life can never be destroyed, even if our bodies are destroyed. And this brings the second point: just as Jesus Christ died to give life to the world, we are called to this radical gift of ourselves for others, having no fear of death.

How often do we lament the lack of time, and lack of energy that we have? Benedictine Anselm Grün has said that if we are always tired it might be because we aren’t finding our life and strength in God’s inexhaustible life. If we have this life within us, we don’t have to worry about pouring ourselves out in service of others in imitation of Christ’s service. Even if we die doing it, we simply are following His pattern, which includes total faith in God the Father, Who will raise us up as He did Jesus Christ.

Today we celebrate the memory of St. Stanislaus, patron of Poland, who followed this teaching rather literally, being slain by King Boleslaw as he offered the sacrifice of the Mass. Kings usually think of themselves as the center of life in their kingdoms, but it is the martyr Stanislaus who, by the offering of his life in service of his country and of Christ, whose memory and whose prayers strengthen the faithful today, especially the Poles, whose zeal for the gospel is so strong in the Church right now. May God grant us the grace to follow the example of our Savior and St. Stanislaus in receiving divine life and so offering our own.