The Blood of the Covenant

Eucharist

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The blood of the covenant–this is a standout theme of all three readings today, as well as the psalm.

Given the feast we are celebrating today, the theme could be different. It is the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. The theme could be His continued presence among us: “And behold, I am with you always, unto the end of the age.” (cf. Mt. 28:20)

Or, the theme could be the sacrifice re-presented in the Eucharist–the sacrifice Jesus makes on the altar every time the Body and Blood are consecrated, the re-presentation of the one sacrifice of Calvary.

But repeated over and over again in today’s readings is the theme of blood poured out in establishment of a covenant.

And indeed, the whole point of Jesus’ Incarnation, life, passion, death, Resurrection, and Ascension was to establish and consummate a definitive covenant with human beings collectively, and each human being individually, within the Church.

That covenant is union with Him, union with the Trinity, based on the fulfillment on a promise of a mutual gift of self.

Said differently, it is Communion. And it is paid for with a high price: Jesus’ very blood poured out, the blood of the covenant.

And indeed, when we contemplate the Eucharist, we are contemplating two closely related realities, corresponding to the two climaxes of the Mass: The sacrifice of the Body and the Blood, and the covenant of Communion.

The Eucharist is the entire effective dynamic of Jesus’ self-gift and self-sacrifice, perpetually encapsulated in two physical realities: The Body and the Blood, in the forms of bread and wine.

At every Mass we enter into a concentrated real-life presentation of the entire saving mystery, and its effect within us. We behold the blood poured out, and we enter into the Covenant.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus for the gift of a deeper penetration into the mystery of the Eucharist, and more saturating experience of this saving mystery at every Mass.

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The Box

Box

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Can God be kept in a box?

Solomon didn’t think so, as we see in today’s first reading. “Can it indeed be that God dwells on earth? If the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain you, how much less this temple which I have built!”

Solomon’s humility before God is refreshing in the face of the Pharisees in today’s gospel. Fast-forward a few centuries from Solomon, and the Jewish religious authorities think they’ve managed to box God in thoroughly. They’ve hemmed Him in on every side with their niggling little precepts about cup-polishing and bed-cleansing, about helping a mule on the Sabbath but not a human being. The message is simple: Do all these little things, and you receive a get-out-of-jail free card; you don’t even have to give God a second thought. He’s placated.

And so they acted in their own lives. They roundly disregarded God and neighbor. It is perhaps especially the latter that utterly infuriates Jesus. His compassion for the needs of his fellow humans is His acute focus, and the Pharisees’ tone-setting of blithe disregard stirs His wrath.

But in the end, God can live in a box. Jesus channels His wrath, not in destruction, but in self-sacrifice, so totally encompassing mankind is His loving compassion that He even prays specifically for those killing Him, a group that includes those same Pharisees. And He does so with his some of His last breaths.

He boxes Himself into the temple of human flesh, He boxes Himself into imprisonment, suffering, and death. He suffers every limitation willingly to free us from the stifling box of our own sin, and to free us from every boundary, allowing us to taste infinity.

And ultimately, to this day, He literally boxes Himself into the tabernacle present in every Catholic Church, so that from that vantage point He can accompany us in our challenges and tribulations.

Whom all the world cannot contain, limits Himself that we may find boundlessness.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to take you up into the dynamic, not only of the limitless of His divinity, but then also of His self-sacrifice for His creatures. Ask Him to fill you with the compassion that drove Him to distraction. Ask Him to fill you with His greatness, that you may join Him in self-giving for the needy.

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Tempest-Tossed

Sea Storm

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The first reading praises the faith of Abraham and puts it in context, the context of coming salvation. Regarding eternal salvation in Christ, the reading says of Abraham and his descendants, “They did not receive what had been promised but saw it and greeted it from afar and acknowledged themselves to be strangers and aliens on earth, for those who speak thus show that they are seeking a homeland.”

And well might the faith of Abraham be praised. Imagine God coming to you and telling you, like Him, to sacrifice your child. You prepare to do so, not out of servile submission to a God you fear because you consider Him brutal and bloody, but out of such faith in His goodness, that you know His plan to be good in spite of the apparent evil confronting you. It is possible that there is no faith greater than that of Abraham in the history of mankind, save perhaps that of the Blessed Virgin Mary, who watched her Son slaughtered on Calvary.

In reality, though, we are all called to walk in a faith similar to Abraham’s as we sojourn through this world. The evil around us continually threatens to block the sun of God’s promise of eternal happiness. It continually threatens to block out the light of the reality of a loving God.

And, often enough, what happened to the disciples in today’s gospel likewise happens to us. The boat of our life is tossed by trials and tribulations that loom authentically threatening; stresses real, and challenges seemingly insurmountable. In all of this, Abraham’s ancient example, so eloquently cited in Hebrews, shines a beacon of light. Even as the Lord appears to sleep in the stern, the welfare of our little boat is in His capable hands; it is His course that it follows through the deep.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: The Gospel admonishes us not to give in to our worries and cares; to trust with unwavering faith. In a context of faith and trust, our stresses and worries are an ideal gift to serve up on a platter to our God, even at the height of their effect. Think of the burdens you are bearing right now. Don’t ask Jesus to eliminate them. Offer them to Him generously, in union with His cross, in union with the sufferings of Our Lady under that cross, for the spiritual welfare of many.

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Lifeboat

Lifeboat

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


In the first reading from Revelation, John describes those in Heaven as numbering one hundred and forty-four thousand. Whether or not that is the exact number to be saved, the fact that he cites a concrete number can make us pause and reflect: When all is said and done, the number of the saved will be a concrete number. Maybe it will be 127,239,151. Whatever it will be, it will be concrete, never to be changed–the most important number in the history of humanity. And we have the power to influence this number, to augment it, simply through our prayer, sacrifice, and daily self-offering to the Lord for others. And our works of evangelization and works of charity.

John uses a curious word when he talks about those who have followed the Lamb, and who are present in heaven: They have been “ransomed from the world.” This conjures an image of a world that holds prisoners captive, from which they must be rescued.

And so it is. The world holds so many captive with its shackles of pride, lust for power, greed, longing for sensual pleasures and comfort. Every day we decide anew to step onto the lifeboat of grace with which Jesus rescues us from these shackles. And every day we have the opportunity to help others onto that lifeboat.

Jesus marvels in today’s gospel at the woman who gives everything that she has, in contrast to those who give their surplus. She defies the captivity of the world and its allurements, making her life instead into a gift. Gift of self to God each day in prayer, gift of self to God each day in service to others–making a gift of our lives is the way not only to step onto the lifeboat ourselves, but to bring others aboard as well, and swell the numbers of those saved. 706 were saved from the sinking of the Titanic–once you have lived your life as a gift, how many will be added to the one important human number that will last forever: the number of those who have attained Heaven for eternity?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Only God knows the number of those who will inhabit Heaven for eternity–but it is a concrete number, one which will be smaller or larger, depending on the way we live our lives. Ask Jesus His ideal for your life. How does He call you and hope for you to help Him “draw all people to Himself” (cf. Jn. 12:32)?

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Shortcut

Path through Jungle

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Sometimes, Scripture reminds us that Christian life is really quite radical.

In today’s first reading, Paul doesn’t specifically speak about gluttony or other sins of excess. But he does speak about those for whom “their God is their stomach,” people whose “minds are occupied with earthly things.” Christians who aren’t focused on Heaven, where our true “citizenship” lies.

But isn’t that you and I? How often we think more about what’s for dinner than whether our day has impact for the salvation and sanctification of our neighbor–or even their earthly welfare. We plan for our next vacation, the age at which we’ll be able to retire in comfort, but rarely, perhaps, is our day obsessed with using our short time on earth to prepare ourselves and others for that which matters: Eternity.

Like the dishonest steward in today’s gospel, we are squandering the Master’s property–that is, the gift He has given us of our time on earth–and if we are brutally honest, we merit the same dismissal applied to that steward.

So, what are we to do? We look around, like that steward, at the other servants around us, and we realize that they too are in deep debt with the Master. So we begin to work at diminishing their debt.

We can diminish the burden of sin which is the debt owed to the Master, to God, both by our brothers and sisters on earth, and by the souls in Purgatory. We can do so by praying and sacrificing for them tirelessly; by forming the habit of offering every hangnail, every stubbed toe, every suffering of any kind for others, that their hearts may be converted to the Lord and their sins may be forgiven.

This opportunity hearkens back to the lesson of the Our Father: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.” We could say, per today’s gospel, “Forgive us our worldiness, because we have spent our lives helping to alleviate the burden of sin that others carry.”

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Elsewhere, St. Paul tells us, “Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 2:5) The attitude of Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Word, can be summed up as passionate love for His Father and the salvation and welfare of every human. In the midst of our worldliness and sinfulness, a shortcut to intimacy with Him is self-giving for our fellow persons, in line with His passionate love. Contemplate Him carrying His cross to Calvary. Ask Him why He cares so much, in the midst of so much obliviousness and ingratitude. Ask Him how you can make up for your worldliness by growing in effective self-offering to Him for others.

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Take It Up

Cross

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Let’s be honest: St. Paul might not get an “A” in Advanced Writing class at Harvard. He’s guilty of a run-on sentence here and there. Sometimes there are different concepts combined into one sentence. To be fair, he did his writing at a time when standards were a bit different. Anyone who has studied classical Latin knows that run-ons were the order of the day.

This makes it all the more fun to tease out the depths of his heart through his words. His theology is rich; his spirituality, profound.

For example, what do we take from these words?

“Work out your salvation with fear and trembling.
For God is the one who, for his good purpose,
works in you both to desire and to work.
Do everything without grumbling or questioning,
that you may be blameless and innocent.”

So, so often we think our work as Christians is to try to deduce moral perfection and work toward it. But there is a reason to be fearful, to tremble, to stand in awe. It is a joyful fear, if there is such a thing; a joyful awe. The awe-inspiring thing about Christianity is that “God is the one who, for his good purpose, works in you both to desire and to work.” This is why we must not grumble or question. Ours is to draw near to Him, as near as we can possibly come each day. Approach the Eucharist and dialogue with Him in the intimacy of our hearts after Communion. Spend solid chunks of time with Him in dialogue and prayer. And then, ours is to trust Him, in fearsome awe: For He is the one who, for his good purpose, will create good desires in us and accomplish what He wants in us. He has got it all figured out.

So much better than trying to inject exquisite, cold, dry little moral niceties deduced from our own two-dimensional intellect into our day, as some sort of substitute for true meaning. He alone, and what He does in us, is that meaning.

In the Gospel today, Jesus furthers our understanding of why we are to approach our Christian vocation with fear and trembling, and He does so in a rather sobering way. We are to be willing to sacrifice even the noblest things that are dearest to us for Him, as we take up a real cross of suffering in life to follow Him. That work that Paul describes God doing in us in not always fun, and is certainly not easy. It involves the cross of radical detachment.

But, as Paul elsewhere says, “If we have died with Him, we shall also live with Him.” And what a glorious life it is–even here on earth, so much more fulfilled and happy than a life without Him. With a yet far happier and more glorious eternal life to follow.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: The path God has planned for each of us is awe-inspiring. On the one hand, filled with His tender and loving guidance, which itself is the source of our happiness. On the other hand, full of increasing detachment, sacrifice, and some suffering as well. Think of Jesus in prison on the night before He died. Talk to Him there. In the intimacy of that setting, ask Him how better to take up your own cross and follow Him.

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The Cup of Salvation

Chalice

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


In today’s gospel, Jesus talks about building on solid rock by acting on His teachings, unlike the foolish builder who builds on sand, whose building is ultimately destroyed by the forces of nature. Christians build a vulnerable spiritual building, destined to destruction, when they do not ground that building on the rock of a committed life lived in accord with Jesus’ teachings.

We see this in the world today. Many of those with whom we come in contact are “good” people–honest-to-goodness nice people, with whom we enjoy a positive relationship of mutual good will. But of these, many unfortunately feel the attraction of the Christian message, but consciously avoid adopting it in its fullness. They build their houses on sand. Why? Because of one word: Sacrifice.

The Psalmist asks today “How shall I make a return to the LORD for all the good he has done for me?” And his response: “The cup of salvation I will take up, and I will call upon the name of the LORD.”

There are beautiful layers to this psalm, in the light of the New Testament. In a very real way, the answer to our quandary about how to “repay” the Lord for what He has done for us is to take up the Eucharist, prefigured in the psalm by the cup. We can repay Him by taking up, that is, receiving, the sacrament of salvation–and thus, by making His sacrifice for us fruitful. It is not so much a “repayment” as a bringing to fulfillment His gift by letting it come to fulfillment in us.

But this also means taking up our own allotted cup of sacrifice, the sacrifice of faithfulness to our Christian life by giving up our lives in the day-to-day for others within our vocation. “My cup you will indeed drink,” Jesus tells his disciples James and John in Mt. 20:23. Indeed we are to drink to the dregs the cup of sacrifice allotted to each of us in our own life, in imitation of and collaboration with our Master.

Ah, but there’s the rub. That’s the one step that is so difficult for many to take. Jesus wants us to lose our life in order to find it (cf. Mt. 16:25). Not easy. Many otherwise good and nice people simply decline.

But the entire first reading teaches us something important in this regard. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be a Christian without the personal sacrifice. As Paul poignantly points out, you can’t participate in the Eucharistic table and then sacrifice to demons by remaining in selfishness. With Christ, it is all or nothing.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Think about the relationship between Jesus’ Cup of Sacrifice in the Eucharist, and the sacrifice of your own personal gift of self to your vocation and to others in the day to day. And how you can offer your cup of sacrifice in your heart with the mundane gifts of bread and wine that go to the priest’s altar each day, and receive the body, blood, soul, and divinity–Jesus’ sacrificial gift to you–in return. Adore Him, praise Him for the incredible, disproportionate “economy of gift” that He has set up for you because He loves you.

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Emotional Poverty for Others’ Enrichment

Sad Dog

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The same St. Paul who gives us the first reading also wrote in his second letter to the same audience, “For you know the gracious act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that for your sake he became poor although he was rich, so that by his poverty you might become rich.”

Paul describes himself today as called to be a poor, homeless outcast for the enrichment of the Christian communities. There is no doubt that in his own calling, he seen an extension of the mission of Christ in this specific vein.

Have you ever felt as though you sacrificed in a big way for someone else’s benefit? Have you ever kept the sacrifice hidden or downplayed it so as not to mitigate the happiness of the beneficiary through some sort of sense of debt to you?

This noble approach can bring with it a further sacrifice of a sense of sadness, an unintentional, unwanted feeling of self-pity for not being recognized and loved in the way that you yourself are loving. Such self-pity is not really selfishness, as long as we do not cast passive-aggressive guilt on others with our words, but rather the normal human reaction to a perception that we give more love than we receive.

We hear it a bit in Paul’s words today. The Christian communities are benefiting, and he is paying the bill. He doesn’t reproach the Corinthians for this state of affairs, but rather leverages it to encourage them not to be proud and boastful, but mindful that there is nothing that they have that they have not received.

Even today’s gospel contains overtones of the same sort of dynamic. In the act of “owning” the Sabbath, Jesus is providing for his disciples’ needs. Yet He is the one who is taking the slander for it, one more plank of resentment to form the cross upon which He will ultimately hang. He provides, He pays the price, and the disciples as usual come across as a bit oblivious.

And then, let us look at His Heart in the moment when He ultimately pays that price. Hanging on the cross, He cries, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” We could imagine Him paying the price from the position of infinite wealth and abundance from His position as Second Person of the Blessed Trinity. But no, as Paul says, He has become poor. Needy. Emotionally, existentially needy. He has wanted and accepted this–to lift us up, not from a position of strength, but of poverty and weakness.

A feeling of loneliness, particularly one of unrequited love or a sense of ingratitude from others, is not something to be shunned as selfish self-pity, but a state to be embraced as one of the most privileged states within which to unite ourselves to Christ. It is one of the realest, deepest ways to experience something of the depths of what He experienced for us on the cross.

When we feel lonely, in embracing this cross, we can offer it for those we love, perhaps especially those loved ones from whom we are feeling some sense of ingratitude, whether real or subjective, whether lasting or fleeting. This compounds the value of whatever sacrifice we have made for those we perceive as ungrateful, taking a mere earthly gesture of generosity on our part and conferring upon it resounding, eternal value.

Like the value in the economy of salvation of the sacrifices that Paul offered for the early Christians, which powered evangelization itself.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Think of moments of loneliness that you have experienced, especially those harder moments of loneliness that have cut deeper because they have been occasioned by those you love. Now, contemplate the depth of loneliness that Christ experienced on the cross: Abandonment, confusion, ingratitude from the intimates whom He has been shepherding for three years–but also, emotional distancing from His own Father, His all in all. Tell Him that you are happy to experience the loneliness that comes from love and generosity whenever He should wish to share with you this gift, to win grace for souls as He did. Tell Him that you are willing to become poor, that others may become rich in Him, and that you trust Him to take care of all your needs.

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