Learning to pray the Rosary

I have a very distinct and fond memory of learning how to pray the rosary.

I had received a rosary from a Carmelite Nun when I was in high school.  I was in a play that featured some Catholic nuns and some of the cast got rosaries...including me.

Even though I was thoroughly Baptist, I was fascinated by it.  I thought it was beautiful and seemed spiritually powerful to me.  But I had no idea how to pray it.

Many years later, while I was going through RCIA at Texas A&M, I asked my sponsor to teach me how to pray it. 

He totally underestimated how little I would know, or how much he would have to explain.  For him it was all so obvious, second nature even.  It was hilarious.  

He said to start with the creed.  I already knew the Nicene creed from Mass, so that was easy enough, although to this day I pray the Nicene Creed on the rosary instead of the Apostle's Creed.  

Then he told me to pray an Our Father on each big bead.  Now, what he called the “Our Father” I called the “Lord’s Prayer” but that was easy enough to understand; however, I always said the doxology instead of ending with "...but deliver us from evil." (that’s how you can spot Protestants at Mass…they always keep going into the doxology "...for the kingdom the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.")

I, of course, had no idea how to pray the Hail Mary, but he told me to say one on every little bead.

Then he told me about the Glory Be.  I didn’t know the prayer at all, or even that it was a prayer, so I thought he said "Glory Bead."  And I really had no idea what that meant, but it sounded nice.  

So, anyway, I started praying the "rosary" when I walked to work.  But what he said should take 15-20 minutes only took about 3-4 minutes, no matter how slow I went.  

Because what I was doing was: praying the Nicene creed, saying the Lord’s Prayer on the big beads, and then saying simply "Hail Mary, Hail Mary, Hail Mary,..." on all ten little beads, and then just smiling real big on the Glory Bead. And repeating 5 times.  Didn't take long.

I mentioned this to him a couple of weeks later and he realized the extent of his task.  He taught me the rest of the prayers and the meditations, which he had completely forgotten to mention the first time.

The rosary made a lot more sense then.  I could even understand the purpose of it now that the mysteries were in place for me to contemplate.

One thing that he taught me that I later found out wasn’t a standard practice was to declare a "fruit" of each mystery.  To declare what you wanted to grow in as a result of each mystery.  

I remember perfectly well how moved I was by the fruit he declared of the Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth.

"The 2^nd Joyful mystery," he said, "The Visitation...and the fruit of this mystery is the ability to recognize with joy the presence of Christ in other people."

Let us today, on the feast of the Visitation, ask our Lady to pray that Jesus will give us this grace.  The ability to truly recognize with joy the presence of Christ in other people.  Especially as we receive him into ourselves in the Eucharist.  After we receive, let us imagine each other carrying him as truly as Mary did.  And let our hearts leap with joy.

"What do you want me to do for you?"

One of the major themes of Mark’s gospel is discipleship.  The gospel writer presents us with a series of portraits of discipleship.  Running through the whole narrative we have the lumbering, awkward, dense starts and stops of the apostles.  Who, like in yesterday’s gospel, don’t seem to understand what Jesus is saying or doing, even though they are faithfully following him.  Although they follow him, they don’t seem to understand where he is leading them, or what it will require of them.

Deaf to his comments about his having to suffer and die and rise, and deaf to how they have to do the same, they keep arguing about who will be greatest in the kingdom.

But into that story, Mark interjects characters who are very different from the continuous narrative of the apostles.  

Neg: We have the young man who wanted to know what he had to do to be saved…but Jesus loved him, and called him beyond that simple hope, towards full discipleship, but he let his wealth stand in the way.  And walked away sad.

Pos: And Mark gives us a few women, a roman centurion, and a blind street beggar.  These people step forward out of the crowd and demonstrate deep faith, and Mark contrasts them against the fumbling apostles.

If you remember, yesterday, while James and John are ignoring Jesus prediction of his death and resurrection they ask Jesus “Teacher, (*notice) we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  And Jesus replies, “What do you want me to do for you?”  And they ask to rule in his kingdom.  Missing the whole point.

Today, Jesus asks Blind Bartimaeus the same exact question, “What do you want me to do for you?”

But Bartimaeus answers, “Master, I want to see!”  Jesus gave him sight and he “followed on the way”  which is code for understanding and following Jesus—who is the way.  In asking to see Bartimaeus is requesting much more than physical sight.  He is asking to see as Jesus sees.  To want what Jesus wants.  To desire what Jesus desires.  

Such a huge difference!  “What do you want me to do for you?”

·        “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

·        “Master, I want to see!”

Make no mistake, Jesus asks of us, today in this Eucharist, the same question.  “What do you want me to do for you?”    How do you answer?  What do you want?  For him to do whatever you want?  Or to see as he sees, and want what he wants?

Today we celebrate the central mystery of our faith.  The mystery of the Trinity.

A mystery revealed by God, over thousands of years, but finally made completely known in Jesus.

[Note the trefoil Star of David on the columns throughout the church, lead into...]  The Star of David representing the thousands of years of divine revelation to the people of Israel.  As God gently and slowly revealed himself to them, and formed covenants with them, and prepared them for the coming of the Messiah.

In the heart of the star is a Trefoil.  A symbol composed of three leaves, or of three partial circles connected.  Each representing a person of the Trinity.

Although there are hundreds of different metaphors and symbols that help us try to get our minds around the Trinity—one God and three Persons—they are all inadequate, of course.  God is not two men and a bird sitting on a cloud any more than he is a huge clover leaf in the sky.

I think the best way to understand the Trinity is to simply state the mystery and then look at its implications.  Like tracing an object by looking at its shadow.

The first thing we can see about the Trinity, is that it is manifested in our salvation.

The Son is Eternally begotten of the Father, outside of time the Son is continually begotten, and then is begotten in time for our salvation…of the virgin Mary.

The Holy Spirit is Eternally proceeding from the Father and the Son, Continually flowing from them, and then is sent in time by the Father and Son.  Jesus is sending him in today’s gospel.

The way that our salvation happened in time reflects the eternal nature of God, God’s inner life.  Which makes sense, since our salvation means nothing less than our being drawn into the inner life of God.

Is it all clear now?         

This brings us to the most interesting aspect of the Trinity.  The Trinity is manifested in creation.  Especially in Jesus--divine and created.

Through Jesus, God reveals his inner life.  What he is like at the deepest level.  The Trinity is something that we could have never deduced on our own.  It is something that we never could have come up with.  But that was revealed through the incarnation of the eternally begotten one, and the coming of the eternally proceeding one.

And what is revealed in this is that God is a community of Persons.

God is, in himself, relational.  God is love.  Not just because he loves us, but because it is what he is.  His inner life.

And the inner life of God is reflected and captured by what we experience as love.

Think for a moment about the power of love.  The power that exists between a man and wife.  The power that binds mother to son.  The unbreakable bond between best friends.  Call to mind someone you love, maybe the first time you fell in love.  I remember the first time I was deeply in love, just saying her name in my head would give me joy and peace.  Just glimpsing her profile would elicit a smile and warmth.  Think about an experience like that. Think about that power—and then multiply it infinitely and that is the inner life of God. 

The love between the Father and the Son is so strong…that it actually becomes a third Person…it spills over into a full person.  But the love is still too powerful to be contained, so it spills over again into creation—the universe is a result of the overflow of God’s love—especially us.  God’s love is so powerful that he creates us so that he can love us too.

Do you want to know how God thinks of you?  [pause and look around]

·        Do you worry that he is upset with you because of your sins or because of your imperfections? [pause]

·        Do you think he is willing to forgive your sins because you are trying your best? 

·        Do you think he is proud of you and your fighting to have faith and live correctly even though it’s difficult at times? 

·        Do you imagine that he is saying to you “well done my good and faithful servant?”

I’ll tell you what he thinks of you.  He has been telling us for thousands of years, so there is no reason to wonder...

Just thinking your name gives him joy and peace. 

Just glimpsing your profile elicits happiness and warmth.

Salvation means opening our soul to receive this fact, to believing this fact, and then being transformed by it, and into it.

God manifests his inner life in creation itself.  We image it every time the love between a husband and wife is strong enough to become a child.  We image it every time we allow the power of love to overcome differences and distances.

On this past Friday at Mass, the readings were about friendship, and I gave the congregation some homework—I asked them to contact their best friend and tell them that you love and appreciate them.  That was the easy assignment.

Today, is the difficult assignment.  I encourage everyone here, to use this Mass to find in your heart someone who needs to see some love from you.

Maybe an estranged family member.   Maybe a broken friendship.  Maybe a difficult co-worker.  Maybe a person you often run into on the street.  Someone you need to forgive....or not, just pick someone specific.

And drawing from the power of the Holy Trinity—make a discreet act of love for them.  Don’t pass this up.  Make up your mind who it will be during Mass, and have the courage to do it.

I don’t promise that it will “work” that you will get the result you want—but I do promise that you will be participating in the inner life of our Triune God, and God’s presence will increase your soul.

Today, for the homily, I want to give you some homework.  And you have to do it.  Father said so.  J

No, I don’t mean find someone in an irregular marital situation and harass them with today’s gospel.  I think we all, including Jesus, understand that committing to faithful and strong relationships is difficult.  Friendship, including that of marriage, is one of the best parts of life when it works and one of the worst when it doesn’t.

If Jesus looks at you funny when you suggest so, just say "Judas" and he’ll understand.

The homework is to pray with the verse from the first reading.

A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter,

  whoever finds one has found a rare treasure.

A faithful friend is something beyond price,

  there is no measuring his worth.

A faithful friend is the elixir of life,

  and those who fear the Lord will find one.

Whoever fears the Lord makes true friends,

  for as a man is, so is his friend.

And consider two things.

1^st – "whoever fears the Lord makes true friends, for as a man is, so is his friend."

Pray a moment about who you spend most of your time with.  How well do they reflect your own values and faith?  How much do you spend your time with those you love most?

2^nd – I want everyone here today to make sure that you tell your best friend (or best friends) how much they mean to you.  Maybe even use this verse from Sirach.  Don’t let the sun set today without calling, or writing, or emailing, or facebooking, or sharing a drink face to face with your best friend and telling them once again how much you love and depend on them.

Here is my best friend [show picture], ...or one of ‘em, I have two.  And I’m going to offer this Mass for him and put his picture on the altar while I celebrate.  I ask you to do the same thing in your hearts.  Place them on the altar of your heart, And tell ‘em you love ‘em.  You have to.  Fr. said so.

Today we Enter what I sometimes call "the green mile" or the "big green parade."  Through the summer we have weeks upon weeks of Ordinary Time green.

I personally prefer the celebratory white/gold seasons of Easter or Christmas, or even the colorful purple-y penitential/expectant seasons of Advent or Lent, to Ordinary time green.  

But there is something to be said about the slow, steady march of Ordinary Time.  The numbered weeks.

We get to interact, every day, with Jesus in his life and ministry.  The call of the Christian life is to be conformed to the image of Christ.  To become ever more Christ-like.  And people often encourage one another to try to think like Jesus would, sometimes encapsulated in the pithy expression WWJD.  But at times the call to conform to Christ can be derailed by a set of false expectations. We can strive for a kind of inhuman perfection instead of Christlikeness.

Today we have this delightful and curious scene.  Jesus seems to be…pretty… sarcastic.  “If I can heal him?!” he retorts, seeming offended.  “How long must I endure you?” he asks in exasperation.  Jesus is delightfully and recognizably human in his behavior. 

Sometimes I find that very good people set up a standard by which they measure themselves that is not quite what Jesus was like.  Inhuman perfection.  As the saying goes, "the perfect is the enemy of the good."  They judge themselves by a standard that is never sarcastic, or exasperated, or angry—but always nice.

One of the things we learn as we walk with Jesus through Ordinary Time is that while Jesus is always loving, he is not always nice.  But we can confuse the two.

What’s the difference?   Nice means making people feel good about themselves, not matter what decisions they make. Nice avoids conflict at all costs.  Nice can just lead to complacency.

However, Loving means working for the best for others, including challenging them.  Love is transformative.  And moves from permissible, to the good...striving for the best.  Not some inhuman ideal of perfection, but true, honest, fullness.

We are called to be loving, and nice when we are able.  But sometimes the two conflict, and when they do, we are called to be loving over being nice.

Sometimes loving can mean being annoying and sarcastic.

When a friend or family member says that they have come to the conclusion in their own conscience to just outright sin—Love means we might not be nice.

If I say or hear someone use the Lord’s name in vain, I always say, out loud, "blessed be the name of the Lord."  Sometimes people get offended by that, and I’ve been told it’s not very nice, but I’m offended by someone using our lord’s name in vain.

I have a friend who is very sensitive to gossip and will call me out all the time when my tongue gets a little waggy.  It stings at first, when he corrects me.  But in the end I am happy for the correction.

So as we enter the “green mile” the “long green parade” of summer’s Ordinary Time, let’s pay close attention to how Jesus acts—and do our best to imitate him, and not some inhuman standard of perfection that is sometime just a distraction from our real goal--of being loving.

Today is the great feast of Pentecost.  Literally meaning the 50.  50 days after Easter we have the great feast of the Holy Spirit.  We celebrate this day one of the only feasts of the Holy Spirit.  And it is the birthday of the Church, when the believers in Christ became the Church of Christ by the uniting power of the Spirit.

But this day, like Easter itself, is best understood when it is placed next to the Jewish feast that it completed or fulfilled.

As you know, Easter is our Passover.  The lamb, Jesus, is slain for our sins and his blood covers us and protects us.  And we are lead out of captivity to sin and death towards the freedom of the children of God.  I encourage you to learn…

The Jewish feast that occurs 50 days after Passover is called “Shavout”  “the feast of weeks” and it commemorates the giving of the Law at Mt. Sinai.  LAW = Identity.

Imagine that scene for a moment.  Having been lead out of the slavery and suffering of Egypt, the people of Israel are led by a pillar of fire, they come to the Mountain at Sinai.  They are camped for a while at the base of the mountain while Moses ascends the mountain to be with God.  Fire and smoke wreath the mountain reminiscent of a scene from the Lord of the Rings.  God speaks with Moses in the fire and wind and mystery.  He gives them the 10 commandments, carved in stone.  The people are left in wonder and awe below, until they grow weary of Moses’ absence.  In their desperation, they make the golden calf.  Moses punishes them.  And We have one of the saddest versed of the bible.  I will send an angel to guide you.  God withdraws the pillar of fire.  They begin the slow trek to the promised land…with an angel guiding them instead of the Lord.

It is this event, the giving of the law at Mt. Sinai, that the Jews celebrate on their Shavout, their feast of Pentecost.  The law formed the deepest identity of Israel, it deepened and gave contours to their the covenant.

On that same day, 2000 years ago, the Church experienced the descent of the Holy Spirit.  The Christian transformation of Shavout is depicted in the painting behind the altar.  The Holy Spirit descends upon the disciples and Mary, like tongues of fire, resting on each of them. 

But this time, the fire is different.  Instead of one huge pillar of fire to lead the whole lot of them, instead of the mountain wreathed with fire and smoke and lighting, it is a small tongue of fire resting upon each of them, gathered together. 

God, who withdrew his fiery presence after the sin of the golden calf, gives his presence once again in the Holy Spirit.  Present to each believer. 

No longer are the people waiting, with various degrees of patience, for their leaders to tell them what God has said, God speaks directly to each human heart.

And instead of the law being written on tablets of stone, the law is written on the tablets of their hearts.  And instead of the law being for Israel alone, it is for all people in every language.

We Americans like the individual flames.  We like the idea that the Holy Spirit is present to each of us and not just through our leaders.  Especially if we feel a deep and continuing disappointment with our civil and ecclesial leadership.  We like the independence and freedom that this implies.  But there is a challenge for us in there as well. 

While the gift of the Holy Spirit is personal, it is not private.  Notice that they are all gathered together in the image.  Pentecost is not the individualization of God or spirituality.  This event does not lead to division or separation.  It leads to true unity as the Christians are called to be radically united in Christ.  To become like parts of a single body, acting in unison.  To be incorporated into the body of Christ—the Church.  Including the structure, and leadership.

But the Holy Spirit calls us to recognize that we each has freedom and responsibility for the care of the body.  Each of us must discern what is right.  To strive to obey the Lord and our conscience.  To live in the fruits of the Holy Spirit: Knowledge of God, Piety, wisdom, courage, understanding, faith, hope, and love.  To find our place in the church and to energetically fulfill it.

Sometimes we would rather complain about how the church doesn’t meet our needs, how our leaders have disappointed us, how it isn’t communal enough, or friendly enough, or care for the poor or vulnerable enough, or beautiful enough, or whatever, without sufficiently examining our own participation.

This is the spirit of the world, opposed to the Holy Spirit, and the fruits of this spirit are: Indifferent Cynicism.  Passive Critique.  & withdrawal / isolation. 

But Pentecost challenges us to gather together!  To shake off the spirit of the world with its cynicism.  Definitive “no” to passivity.  To lay claim to the gift of the Holy Spirit given to each of us.  Feel the power of the Holy Spirit.  The guidance of the Holy Spirit.  The energy of the Holy Spirit.  In our own lives, deeply shared with one another in community.  Settle for nothing less.  And then look for how we can use that power within the Church, to transform the world, and set it on fire with God’s love.

Today we celebrate the Ascension of the Lord.  An odd feast for several reasons. First, it is celebrated on Thursday in some dioceses and moved to Sunday in others—which causes some confusion. 

[Story:  Thursday evening I was working in the Church, preparing Mary with her cloak and such, and I was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt.  Three ladies came to the Church and were milling around and looking at the Church.  When I came down to greet them the eldest of them asked if they could speak to a priest.  I said that I was a priest, just out of uniform since I was working.  She looked at me suspiciously, but then asked for a dispensation for missing Mass since it was a holy day of obligation.  I asked her where she was from and she said New York.  I told her that here in New Orleans the solemnity of the Ascension is moved to Sunday, so it was not the holy day.  She said, “but in New York it is the Holy Day.”  So I explained why the church moves the feast in some dioceses but not all, and that in this diocese it is on Sunday.  After my lengthy explanation, I finally paused.  She said, "So...are you going to give me a dispensation or not?"  I, exasperated, rehearsed the entire argument for why she didn't need a dispensation.  At the end she asked, "Is there another priest I can talk to?"]

I went back to work, thinking about what had just happened and how appropriate it was for the feast we are celebrating.  [and how I should have just given her a dispensation]

It was appropriate because of the second reason this feast is odd.  It celebrates how Jesus had to leave us, so that he could be with us.  Jesus ascends to heaven, specifically to overcome the problem of the ladies from New York.  The inability to be in more than one place at a given time.

Jesus didn’t ascend, and then hide behind the moon.  Or he didn’t fly past the moon, and then begin a journey out of the solar system, on his way to some remote part of the galaxy.  Even if he were travelling at the speed of light 2000 years would give him just enough time to clear the milky-way galaxy. 

He ascended and entered into the heavenly realm.  A place more real than here.  A way of existing that is more real than here, a way of existing that permeates this one, and supports it. 

That is how Jesus is present to us in word and sacrament even though he is in heaven. 

That is why we can pray and ask the saints to intercede for us, because heaven permeates and supports our physical reality.

Through his ascension Jesus is able to be in more than one place at the same time. 

This is important because The Body of Christ is now composed of us.  His believers.  His body is simultaneously present in the Church triumphant (i.e. the saints who have gone before us and are now in heaven with him).   The church expectant (i.e. the faithful who have died and are awaiting glory), and in the church militant (i.e. us, those who are still fighting the good fight.)  It is One Body, undivided, even by death.

That is what we are doing right now.  Jesus unites his body in the celebration of the Eucharist, at which the whole church is present (triumphant, expectant, and militant).  We are all united by the Body of Christ.  That is why the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist requires the real absence of Jesus through the ascension.  He had to leave us, so that he could be present to us, present in us. 

That is why at the Mass, before the Holy Holy, we say that we are adding our voices to those of the saints and angels. 

So today, when we get to the Sanctus, the Holy Holy, I want you to think about what we say, what we believe, how it is that at Mass we join our voices to those of the saints and angels as we sing the Holy Holy, the song of heaven. 

While we are singing the Sanctus, I want you to call to mind a particular saint, or a loved one who has passed away, maybe even a deceased mother or grandmother, and realize yourself to be standing beside them, united in One Body, singing to the Lord together.  “heaven and earth are full of your glory.”

Jesus says to his disciples:  You did not choose me: no, I chose you.

I do not call you servants, I call you friends.

These must have been very consoling words for the disciples to hear.

Jesus, in this passage, silences the internal voices of self-accusation that could try to distract the disciples from their mission.  

The internal voice that turns our attention to ourselves, instead of focusing on the work he has given us.  I’m not worthy of being a disciple.  I’m not good enough, or holy enough, or smart enough.

Jesus silenced that voice in the disciples that day, when he said to them “You did not choose me, I chose you.  I do not call you servants, I call you friends.”

Consoling words indeed.  It would be nice if we could hear these words. (pause)

In the 1^st reading the disciples realize that the Lord had intended that there be 12 Apostles, so they had to fulfill the number by discerning a replacement for Judas.

They go through a process of discernment.   They do their best to make a good choice.  They eliminate the possibilities that don’t seem right.  They try to keep their mind on the important characteristics.  And then, once they have limited it down to only good choices, they entrust themselves to the will of the Lord and essentially throw the dice.  And the Scripture says that the Lord, once again, chooses.

The disciples do all they can to eliminate the options that would be displeasing to the Lord, using their best judgment they select a set of good options, and then they surrender themselves to the Lord’s will, and enter into the mystery of the Lord’s guidance.  “You did not choose me, I chose you.”  They hear once again. 

This same process is available to us through the Holy Spirit.

When we are trying to make an important decision we can eliminate the options that are not pleasing to the Lord.  Use our best judgment to select a few possibilities that seem good.  And then entrust the decision to the Lord.  When we do this we enter into the mystery of the Lord’s guidance.  And we can hear Jesus reassure us: “You did not choose me, I chose you.  I do not call you servants, I call you friends.”  And we can allow Jesus to silence the interior voice of the internal voices of self-accusation that turns our attention to ourselves, instead of focusing on the work he has given us. 

At the pearly gates, a taxi driver and priest are waiting in line to get into heaven. St. Peter consults his list and says to the taxi driver, “Take this silken robe and golden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

St. Peter next greets the priest saying, “Take this cotton robe and wooden staff and enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

“Just a minute,” says the priest. “That man was a taxi driver, and he gets a silken robe and golden staff while I get a cotton robe and wooden staff. How can this be?” 

“Up here, we work by results,” says St. Peter. “While you preached, people slept; while he drove, people prayed.”

"When that day comes, you will not ask me any questions."  (John 16:23)

This is a curious and powerful phrase.  Think about it.  Jesus is promising us that when we get to heaven we will not ask him any questions.

People often say “When I get to heaven I’m going to ask Jesus…” and then fill in the blank with some theological or practical question that has been bothering them. 

Trivial: Did Adam and Eve have belly buttons?

Serious:  Why do good people suffer?

Or more personally: why did some particular event occur in my life?

But Jesus says that we will not ask him any questions.

Why?  Because everything will make sense.  Arriving in Heaven is not going to be having a brief conversation with St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, and then walking in to heaven to see what it’s all about.  It’s not going to be like all those Pearly Gates jokes.

It is going to be an overwhelming and deeply satisfying experience of:

“Oh!  I understand!  It all makes sense now!”

I personally believe that the more suffering and difficulty a person has here on Earth, if it is endured with patience and faith, will lead to greater glory in heaven.

I did some prison ministry in California.  I met a couple times a week with a woman there who had the saddest story I’ve ever heard.  Her family was abusive, her, her minister bitter and cruel, her business went bankrupt, and she had a persistent inflammation of her knee that made walking very painful.

One day, after meeting with her, I was overcome by how fortunate I am and how unfortunate she was.  I was sitting in my car after leaving our appointment and I asked God how this makes sense.  It all seemed so unfair.  In my prayer I got the reply, “Wait until you see what I am accomplishing in her!  In heaven her radiance will astonish you!”  I believe this is true.

Jesus promises us:  When that day comes, you will not ask me any questions.

Because everything will make sense.

 

“As I strolled round admiring your sacred monuments, I noticed that you had an altar inscribed: To An Unknown God. Well, the God whom I proclaim is in fact the one whom you already worship without knowing it.” (Acts 17. The image on the left is an ancient Greek monument to an "Unknown God" but it is not from Athens).

This is one of the most surprising statements of the New Testament.  I think Paul is doing much more than simply trying to connect the gospel to the Athenian’s experience.  This is a deeply theological statement. 

People have a built-in desire to know and love God.  When people get in trouble, or see something beautiful—at the best and worst moments—their eyes turn up, their inner voice addresses something/someone bigger.  

This isn't true just of Christians, it’s true of all of us.  And Paul is recognizing this very real dimension, even worship of the one true God, in the practice of the pagan Greeks. 

We believe that God is present to, and calling out to, every human person on the face of the planet.  And if they listen, if they respond, they can truly know him. Jesus is the way to the father, but you don’t have to explicitly know that.  It is not a quiz that grants admission to heaven, it is a relationship.  In the Incarnation Jesus makes a human relationship with the Father possible, and he provides us spiritual and intellectual tools for discovering God, tools that can be metaphorically related to the senses.

Paul says:  “All people might seek the deity and, by groping their way towards him, succeed in finding him. Yet in fact he is not far from any of us, since it is in him that we live, and move, and exist.”  The image is that of a blind man, who is searching for something.

But the reason that the blind man has such a hard time finding the thing he is looking for is, Paul says, that the thing he is looking for is all around him, it is his full experience.  It would only be through the labor of touching as much as possible, over a long period of time, that he could come to recognize his surroundings.

I had a friend named Maria when I was living in College Station who was blind.  After some time of knowing her, she asked me if she could "see" my face.  That meant feel my face until she could form a mental image of what I looked like.  It is a very intimate experience.

For a person to come to know God without the help of Christian revelation, it would take years of constant and patient reflection, on the best and truest things of life.  He or she would have to spend a lot of energy on groping in darkness, feeling around, but that person COULD actually begin to see the face of God.  Through a spiritual sense of touch—given by Christ.

But remember what we sang on Easter Night.  Notice what has accompanied us at liturgy for the past 6 weeks.  Our Easter Candle.  Proclaiming that Christ is our Light.  He is the light by which we can easily see the Father.  His life, death, and resurrection throw light upon our lives and our experience lights up with comprehensibility.  It is only in the light of Christ that we can simply relate to God without that arduous groping.  So we can use that energy, the energy of our hands, to serve others instead of groping around.