O my God, with what might You sometimes choose to teach a man’s soul
Your immense lessons! Here, even through only ordinary channels, came to
me graces that overwhelmed me like a tidal wave, truths that drowned me
with the force of their impact: and all through the plain, normal means of
the liturgy—but the liturgy used properly, and with reverence, by souls
inured to sacrifice.
What a thing Mass becomes, in hands hardened by gruelling and
sacrificial labor, in poverty and abjection and humiliation! “See, see,” said
those lights, those shadows in all the chapels. “See Who God is! Realize
what this Mass is! See Christ here, on the Cross! See His wounds, see His
torn hands, see how the King of Glory is crowned with thorns! Do you
know what Love is? Here is Love, Here on this Cross, here is Love,
suffering these nails, these thorns, that scourge loaded with lead, smashed to
pieces, bleeding to death because of your sins and bleeding to death because
of people that will never know Him, and never think of Him and will never
remember His Sacrifice. Learn from Him how to love God and how to love
men! Learn of this Cross, this Love, how to give your life away to Him.”
Almost simultaneously all around the church, at all the various altars, the
bells began to ring. These monks, they rang no bells at the Sanctus or the
Hanc igitur, only at the Consecration: and now, suddenly, solemnly, all
around the church, Christ was on the Cross, lifted up, drawing all things to
Himself, that tremendous Sacrifice tearing hearts from bodies, and drawing
them out to Him.
“See, see Who God is, see the glory of God, going up to Him out of this
incomprehensible and infinite Sacrifice in which all history begins and
ends, all individual lives begin and end, in which every story is told, and
finished, and settled for joy or for sorrow: the one point of reference for all
the truths that are outside of God, their center, their focus: Love.”
I've been thinking a lot about love recently. The love I have for my kids, my puppy. The love God has for me, for the whole world. I've thought about the permanence of love. And the impermanence of it. How some people claim love changes over time, dissolves or distills. Becomes a disappearing breath or pure essence.
I hold on to love. Been holding on to love for a very long time. Now, in the middle of night, when I should be going to sleep, I think about whether love is enough. I mean, love doesn't pay the bills. It doesn't cook dinner or take you to the doctor if you get sick. It can't even put its arms around you if you feel like you're the last person on Earth.
You see, love needs to borrow arms and legs to do those things. It needs to use a heart and a set of lungs. Until love has all those things--until it sets up camp in a body--it's meaningless. I can say "I love you" all day long. But love without action isn't love. If you tell someone that you love them, then leave that person hurting and isolated, that isn't love. It's selfishness disguised as love. That declaration of love is simply a way to make yourself feel better. That's all.
I know this is probably way too deep for this late at night, and I'm tired. Really tired. If I were to finish this post tomorrow morning, when the sun is in the sky, I may find some light. I know what love is. It's my son not being able to go to sleep until I kiss his forehead, trace a blessing there. It's my daughter going to the State Fair with her boyfriend and bringing me back a bag of kettle corn because she knows I love it. It's my puppy sitting next to me on the couch, letting me scratch her belly until she falls asleep. That's love in action. With arms and hands and heart and a wet nose.
So, find those moments every day. Hold on to them.
Saint Marty wishes all of his disciples love. Real love.
