Homily How to break out of our shells and swim in excitement of
life
By JAMES SMITH
Jesus said, "I have come to bring
you life to the fullest." But someone else said: "Except for a few gracious
moments, we pass our days in little shells called 'our lives' instead of in the
breathtaking excitement of Life."
It's true, isn't it? Sometimes the whole earth seems to be one
violent spasm of pain, but our little lives leak away in headache and worry.
The cosmos is exploding with excitement, but our little lives fizz out like
Alka Seltzer.
It doesn't have to be that way. It's not supposed to be that way.
We are the highest animal on the chain of life. Our physical happiness consists
in being immersed in the stream of life. Our spirits have the capacity to be
driven by divine energy. Our spiritual happiness consists in being drowned in
the stream of grace. But things conspire to draw us out of the living
mainstream into the stagnant, fetid pools of unlife.
Things like work. Work ought to exercise our bodies and stretch
our imaginations. Our work should be an extension of our personality, the way
we stamp our personal image on the world. But work often diminishes our energy,
frustrates our talents, constrains our lives into an occupational hazard that
separates us from the rest of life.
That happens when we forget we are united with all the workers of
the world. Toilers, thinkers, suppliers, fixers -- all work on the same raw
material of the ancient earth. When our work is futile, Sisyphus rolls the rock
up the slope one more time with us. If we carry the weight of the world, Atlas
lends his shoulder. Our sweat streams with the tenant farmers who plowed other
people's fields. Our blood blends with that of the slaves who built pharaohs'
tombs. We hung the Gardens of Babylon and grunted the Great Wall across China.
We raise the flocks with Abel and tend our little plot of earth with Adam. And,
yes -- we work under the direct supervision of God, who stamps his own
personality on his work. God, don't let the work mold us into mass-produced
shells. Let it break us open into unique works of art.
Love more than anything else opens us up, nudges us outward,
plunges us into the heart of life. But it can just as quickly narrow our focus
to one person. All our vision and passion and care concentrate on Thou until I
and Thou become We -- a two-valved shell that nestles in the bottom of the sea
far away from the teeming ocean life.
That happens when we forget that our little love is part of the
passion of the throbbing universe. Your young love is reminiscent of Romeo's
teen devotion. Your older love is an ember of Abraham's ancient ardor. Your
illicit love shares David's murderous adultery. Your lusty love is a tale from
Boccaccio or a mystic's erotic vision. Your ambivalent love shares in Don
Quixote's misplaced zeal, Don Juan's misdirected longings, Sappho's same-sex
desire and Abelard's spiritual marriage.
And yes -- your human love shares in that divine love -- because
there is only one love. Your love shares that divine love that sent his Son to
die for love. God of love, don't let our love imprison us in mutual admiration.
Let it burn us alive in the cosmic conflagration.
Suffering more than anything else can alienate us. Our senses
focus on the point of pain. Our imagination rivets on the possible pain. Our
pounding blood drowns the cries of other sufferers. Suffering above all melds
us together, since all humankind is bound by chains of pain across the
centuries. We are alone with the prisoner in solitary. We trudge along with
displaced people out of Palestine. Our hunger pangs are shadows of African
starvation, our sexual harassment is an echo of Bosnian rape. Our migraine
hurts the same as a thorny crown. And, yes -- our pain is part of God's
infinite suffering over the agony of his people. Suffering God, let our pain
break us open into the redeeming sea of suffering.
Catholics more than anyone ought to be united in worship since we
are not whole unto ourselves but just parts of a body. Yet we easily slip into
private prayer and individual relations: 300 piping solos instead of one grand
chorus. That happens when we forget that we worship the same God as the Jews
and Muslims; that seeing God in sacramental signs comes from pagans spying gods
in rivers and rocks; that liturgical gestures are remnants of a rain dance;
that our sacrifice of the Mass is the perfection of the sacrifice of Hebrew
bulls and Aztec virgins. And, yes -- this very moment there are countless
angels and saints joining us around this altar. Never restrict your prayer to
one time and space. Let it take its rightful place in the cosmic paean of
praise.
We humans are the crown of creation. Our happiness consists in
being immersed in the stream of life. Our holiness consists in swimming in a
sea of grace. Lord of life, don't let us waste our energy in the wading pool.
Give us the courage to plunge into the deep, cold quarry of life. Let it take
our breath away, to prepare us for the breathtaking life of heaven.
Fr. James Smith of St. Matthias Church, Columbus, Ohio,
submitted this homily in response to NCR's request.
National Catholic Reporter, May 2, 1997
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