The Medicine of Immortality

St. Ignatius of Antioch calls the Eucharist "The Medicine of Immortality."  Until I read that, I did not realize how much we actually do need medicine for our spiritual lives, but I think Ignatius hit the nail on the head with this phrase.

I recently succumbed yet again to one of Amazon's irresistible book offers.  Having a Kindle is downright dangerous -- it allows us to carry around constantly a world-class library.  Most of the time, especially when traveling, I love having unlimited reading options at my fingertips -- without having to have a separate suitcase of books.  During a 10-hour transatlantic crossing, I am able to access a variety of reading material, from the Complete Works of the Fathers of the Church to the latest murder mystery, with the press of a button.  No chance of boredom here!

One of the downsides of unlimited choice, however, is that occasionally I will choose the wrong book and unknowingly wade into its depths before realizing my mistake.  My latest mystery choice was something called The Woman in Our House by Andrew Hart.  An Alfred Hitchcock-type of suspense novel, it's about a woman who hires herself out on false pretense as a live-in nanny.  Unfortunately, she is actually a psychopath who thrives on hurting others.  Of course, as I got attached to the innocent host family of mother, father and two small children, I read my way into suspense and fear.  I found that I could read only a few pages at a time and then would have to switch over into spiritual reading to restore my balance and peace -- especially before turning off the light at night.  My mother would always tell me that the last thing we think about at night is the first thing we think about in the morning -- and I certainly did not want to wake up in fear!

Padre Pio once said, "I shudder to think about the harm done to souls by a lack of spiritual reading!"  I was beginning to realize as I put this book down each time the effect it was having on my soul.  I could feel the downward pull it was having on my peace and joy -- and yet, I was intrigued by the story and wanted to know how it ended.  Unfortunately, before I could get the to end, I had to read even more danger and suspense-- even more horror!

Last night, before going to sleep, I turned to my antidote reading called Bearing God: The Life and Works of St. Ignatius of Antioch, The God-Bearer by Andrew Stephen Damick.  What a wonderful entrance to the thought and writing of St. Ignatius, who wrote to the churches of Asia Minor as he was being taken to Rome to be devoured by wild beasts!  St. Ignatius was a disciple of St. John the Evangelist.  In fact, it is believed that Ignatius was ordained as bishop of Antioch by St. Peter himself!  It is sooooo good to read the writings of the earliest Fathers of the Church, to see what emphasis they put upon the practice of the early church.

In the section I was reading last night, Damick was unfolding Ignatius' emphasis on the Incarnation -- Jesus' actual humanity--- against the Docetists-- who believed in the divinity of Jesus, but not His humanity.  Ignatius insists that if Jesus is not truly man, then how can we be clothed in Him, putting Him on in baptism (Ga. 3:27)?  According to Ignatius, without the real union of both the divinity and the humanity of Jesus Christ, there is no point in being Christian.  That same union is also to be found in Christians and in everything they do!

For Ignatius, the same principle of the Incarnation extends also to the Eucharist -- the union of the physical with the divine.  The Protestant Reformation removed belief in the Eucharist to a symbol, rather than a reality.  They preferred "four bare walls and a sermon" to belief in the holiness of the Eucharist -- the union of physical and divine.  Traditional Christians believe in the union of the uncreated God with the created world, as the Incarnation of Jesus Christ present in the Eucharist.  The Incarnation was the beginning of the redemption of the created world.  The union of God and man would henceforth be accessible to every one of us in the Eucharist.

The Son of God giving us His incarnate flesh and blood to eat and drink would give us DIRECT ACCESS to His saving divinity.  Jesus told Philip that he would see the Son of Man as Jacob's ladder -- with the angels ascending and descending upon Him.  What does this mean except that through His humanity, we have direct access to God Himself, who comes to us in the Person of the Son of Man?

Ignatius uses his teacher and mentor's theology (St. John the Apostle) in his writings.  Even though John's Gospel may have been written too late for Ignatius' reading, it is possible and probable that Ignatius heard about the words of Christ himself from John:

I am the bread of life.... This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that one may eat of it and not die....the bread that I shall give is my flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world....He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in Me, and I in him. As the living Father has sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on Me will live because of me (Jn. 6).

Without quoting Jesus directly, Ignatius echoes these words when he refers to Jesus' Body and Blood as food and drink -- the "medicine of immortality."

As I turned to Ignatius last night for rebuilding and strength after feeling my energy draining away from definitely "nonspiritual" reading, I found peace, joy, and renewal flowing into me.  I had been to Mass and Communion that morning, and when I read "He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in Me, and I in him," I realized that fear, worry, and anxiety could find no place in me because I now live in Jesus, and He makes His home in me.   I was able to turn off the light and sleep soundly, waking this morning refreshed and at peace!

Along with Padre Pio, I have to wonder how people survive this world without spiritual reading.

Signs of Favor

As human beings, and even for the domesticated animals, we need signs of favor from others -- a hug, a smile, an attentive listening, someone who prepares a meal for us, etc.  

As spiritual beings, we need signs even more of God's favor toward us. We pray, but we cannot read His expression to know that He is listening to us.  We ask for forgiveness but there is no hug to tell us that we are received.  For those in churches without sacramental signs, faith is all there is --- it is up to each individual to believe strongly enough to sustain them, especially when it seems God is absent.

The sacraments are great gifts to us in our need for signs.  Although the Catholic church is condemned by some who consider it idolatrous in its "smells and bells," its sacraments and sacramentals, I see all of the above as signs of God's love.

The miracles worked by Jesus, John tells us were 'signs."  God has not expected us to simply believe that He loves us, though we are expected to "live by faith" and to stand on His Word.  He has given us signs of His love and favor, "in order that we might believe," as St. John tells us.   

All of the sacraments are signs of invisible realities.  God has indeed, impossible as it sounds, accepted us as His very own children -- we have been born again of water and the Spirit, just as Jesus told us.  And Baptism is the sign of our rebirth.  We don't have to wonder if we did it right, if we are truly accepted by God -- we have a sign in truth.

In Confession, we don't have to wonder if we have been forgiven; we have the sign of the sacrament--go in peace: I absolve you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit..  We can approach God in confidence.  In the Eucharist, we are united to Christ, and in Him, one with the Father.  We have a sign -- a sacrament -- that helps us to believe.

Just as God graciously gave Moses the burning bush and his rod that changed shape as signs of His Presence and Power, He has given us the sacraments that we might believe He has accepted and chosen us to change the world, just as He is at work changing us.

Where is God?

When we come to pray, often we need to pause a moment and ask, "Where is the God to Whom I pray?"

If He is far above and out of reach, our conversation with Him will reflect that condition, and our prayer will be stiff and formal   ---   but we know from the Incarnation that He is not "far away and out of reach."  He is closer to us than the air we breathe in and out.

Jesus is Emmanuel -- God with us!  He is closer than our thoughts and our breath, or closer than a brother, as Scripture says:  We live in him and move in him.  He is here.  You know when I sit and when I stand; before a word is on my tongue, Behold, You know the whole of it! (Psalm 139).

When Jesus appeared to the Apostles the second time after His resurrection, He echoed the words  Thomas spoke to his friends when they told him they had seen the Lord:  Unless I put my fingers into his side, I will not believe it!  

Jesus came back a second time:  "Thomas, come and put your fingers into my side."

The Lord is with us.  If we missed His first visit to us, He will not hesitate to come a second time -- or even a third or fourth time if needed.  When we come to pray, we need to know that He has not abandoned us, but is closer to us than our very thoughts.

This Present Chaos

When I ask, "Who is God to you?" most people will reach for the first answer:  The Creator.

Our thoughts go to Genesis and the original chaos -- the unformed abyss where nothing makes sense, nothing is connected.  And then, the Spirit of God hovers over the waters.  The Breath of God speaks:  Light!  Be!  And there was Light for the first time.  And there was evening and there was morning for the first time.

Morning brought a change in the shape of things.

God is He Who Acts.  He is Light.  He is Energy.  He is Motion.  He is Goodness.

Where He is, He penetrates the darkness, and the darkness must fall back:  the darkness of confusion, of error, of hatred, of meaninglessness -- the chaos of pain, of oppression, of fear and lack of peace.

LIGHT! BE!!

And slowly, gradually, softly, the Light pushes back the darkness and holds it at bay.

In each life, God reveals Himself through its history.  Our collective history and our personal histories are the prime means of God revealing Himself to us.  He still pushes back the darkness in our lives.  He still brings peace to the chaos and confusion.  He still hovers over the angry waters, breathing peace.

WHAT GOD DID, GOD DOES!  He still acts today as He acted then.  He has not changed.

There is no difference between the first day of creation and this day!  It is the same God Who ACTS today, the Same Spirit Who Breathes over the waters today.

It is the Same Word that speaks today over this present chaos:  Light! Be!  And the darkness has never understood or overcome the Light of this world (Jn. 1).  We wait in hope for our personal dawn of creation.  We look up, knowing we will not be put to shame.  We believe.  We trust.  We know.