Have
you ever watched
a dog chewing on a bone?
It’s a slow,
It’s a slow,
drawn out process,
as
if there’s nothing else
going on in the world.
Have
you ever watched
a teenage boy eat supper?
(I
mean no offense—
I used to be one!)
The
food goes down so fast
you’d think he’d inhaled it.
It’s
simply a matter
of refueling the machine.
Jesus
has talked a lot about eating lately.
Following
the multiplication of loaves and fishes,
this
is the third Sunday in a row
that
we hear from his sermon on the bread of life.
In
the original Greek of this Sunday’s passage
from
Saint John’s Gospel,
we
find two different words for eating.
Four
times, Jesus uses the verb phagein,
which
indicates the way humans eat:
chewing
with your mouth closed.
Whoever “eats” this bread will live forever.
But
four other times, Jesus uses the verb trogein,
which
indicates the way animals eat:
gnawing
on something…taking us back to that dog with a bone.
Whoever “gnaws on” my flesh and drinks my blood
remains in me and I in him.
No
wonder Jesus provoked
such
a strong reaction among his Jewish listeners!
On
the surface, his language is—quite frankly—pretty disturbing.
This
little lesson in New Testament Greek
prompts
an important reflection:
How
do we approach the Eucharist—
as
fast food…or slow?
The
best way for me
to
guarantee a compliment on my homily
is
to keep it short.
And
that also goes for the whole Mass.
A
few times this summer,
when
the temperature rose above 90 degrees,
I
was right there with you!
No
one comes more overdressed to this dinner party than me.
But—in
general—what’s the big hurry?
Why
this rush to eat and run?
I
think some of it has to do
with
our Catholic sense of obligation.
We
Catholics are obligated to attend
Mass
on
all Sundays and certain holy days.
That’s
how we interpret the third commandment.
It’s
the Church’s longstanding teaching
that
for us to intentionally skip Sunday Mass
without
a serious reason is gravely sinful. (cf. Catechism 2177, 2180-2183)
For
centuries, this precept has helped to fill the pews.
But—if
not properly understood—
it can
mess up our thinking quite a bit.
We’re
not obliged to come to church
in
the same way we’re obliged to show up for work
if
we expect to receive our paycheck.
If
we’ve come to think of the Mass as something
we
need to check off our religious to do list,
a
way to punch our spiritual timecards and so avoid the fires of hell,
then
it’s little wonder we’d just want to get it over with
as
quickly as possible.
There…I’ve fulfilled my
obligation!
It’s
getting pretty rare these days,
but
occasionally I’ve run into families
who’ve
maintained a custom of eating a big Sunday dinner.
Mom—maybe
Dad—goes all out in cooking the weekly feast,
and
everybody comes together
to
share a long, leisurely meal.
The
good food is a big part of it.
But
even more:
it’s
chance for the whole family to come together
to
talk about the week; to talk about old times;
to
talk about the future and their dreams for it.
It
isn’t written as a law,
but
there is clearly an obligation to come
and eat Sunday dinner.
One
has a duty to the family…
…but
it isn’t fulfilled merely to stay out of trouble.
It’s
about love.
It’s
about belonging.
It’s
about—pardon the expression—eating like
that dog:
slowly,
intentionally,
as
if there’s nothing else going on in the world.
That—my
friends—is our obligation to the Mass!
The
Lord has built his house for company
and
set his table for feasting.
He
sends out messengers with the invitation:
Come, eat of my food and
drink of my wine!
Leave behind foolishness;
progress in wisdom;
here learn the secret to
life!
If you want to fill
yourselves,
let it not be on the worldly
bread
which generations have eaten
and still died.
Fill up on me.
Draw your sustenance from
me.
The food I give has the
power to make you live forever.
And if you want to drink up,
don’t get drunk on wine.
Instead, become intoxicated
with my Spirit,
for I have the ability to
not merely lift your feelings,
but to raise you up on the
last day.
In
the Eucharist,
God
is giving you something to chew on.
Even
during the dog days of summer,
be
sure to take your time.
1 comment:
I have often wondered why Mass is soooo short..45mins in some cases..then out the door...chatting to your friends on the way out, ignoring the 2 or three people who get back down on their knees to do some more praying.
When I was back home visiting my mom, I had a chance to attend a Tridentine Mass..1 hr 15 mins (and that was a Low Mass!). Being raised with the "new" Mass, what struck me most was the last Gospel and the prayers after Mass. A very different experience than what I am used to.
Post a Comment