In our opening
prayer, we asked God to help us so that “[whatever we do] we might always hold
to what we relive in remembrance.” That was after we also asked God to help us “celebrate
with heartfelt devotion these days of joy.” Let’s unpack that a little bit. The
“days of joy” are the Easter season. This is now our 36th day this
year of celebrating the Easter season. By next week, we’ll have been celebrating
Easter for longer than we spent observing Lent and we still won’t be done! And
this celebrating is meant to encompass each and every aspect of our lives, but
its center, its source and summit, is our celebrating together in liturgy, most
especially in Sunday Mass. As we ended the opening rites of Mass, we together
asked God to help us celebrate the rest of Mass well, which means, as the
prayer put it, with heartfelt devotion. And that, celebrating Mass together
with heartfelt devotion, is what “relive in remembrance” means. Remember, we
closed the prayer asking God to help us so that “[whatever we do] we might
always hold to what we relive in remembrance.” So… what is it we’re reliving in
remembrance? It’s the closing words of our second reading: that “[God] loved
us, and sent his son for us as expiation for our sins.” That’s what God gives
us to hold to. And, boy do we so often feel like we need something to hold on
to in this world which can sometimes seem to leave us no stable place to stand.
In our Mass, we
relive God’s love for us. And you can’t relive someone else’s feeling or
emotion, but that’s not what we’re talking about when we talk about God’s love for
us. We relive God’s acting for our good. Emotions are not an unimportant part
of being human or being holy, but they’re not ultimately what John means by
love, either in the letters or in the Gospel. When we hear love, we’re talking
about selfless action for another’s good. In John’s letters, we hear not just
that God is loving, but that God is love. In the Gospel, Jesus told us that we
know God’s love for him, because he has loved us with that same love. And then
he bids us do the same. And we can’t do that just because he tells us to, or
even just because he’s shown us how, but we can begin to do that because his
love has begun to change us. That’s how he’s loved us, that’s how he’s acted
for our good, to make us love.
And in our
Mass, we relive that. Because we’re human, and we change slowly. There’s a
reason why Disney vacations are so popular, because they immerse us in a
delightful world, let us relive some of our favorite movies, and some of the
most popular attractions are less and less about sitting back and watching
something unfold as putting you right in the thick of the action and, increasingly,
inviting participation. But, Mass doesn’t let us relive a fantasy, it lets us
relive the realest thing that’s ever happened. And it doesn’t just immerse us
in the action, but it immerses the action within us, when Christ offers us his
very self, body, blood, soul and divinity, to consume. And in calling forth our
participation, through our bodies, our voices, and in that, our hearts and
minds and souls, it helps bit by bit reshape us, to become what we receive. To
love as we are loved.
When practicing
for a sport, you do drill after drill after drill, so that what was so
thoroughly practiced may happen as ‘second nature’ in the cut and chase of a
game, even when we’re tired. Mass is like practice in lots of ways, forming in
us that ‘second nature,’ that graced nature. We come together, and we welcome
one another. We are all ministers of hospitality at every Mass we go to. And I
mean all. How often has a baby’s smile made your experience of Mass more
delightful? Friedrich Schleiermacher, a famous Protestant theologian, wrote
about one Christmas Eve service he went to where the preaching was lousy, they
didn’t sing any of his favorite carols, but a baby smiled at him, and the joy
of Christmas was proclaimed there. Hospitality to one another: the beginning of
Mass as practice for a world which often ignores that; the beginning of Mass as
reliving God’s love.
We ask for
mercy and sing God’s glory, and God’s glory is revealed in that he does have
mercy on us, and God’s glory is revealed in that we dare to ask for it; to
really ask for it, which generally means that part of our preparation for Mass
is reminding ourselves of our specific need for mercy. Our need for God’s help
with what ails us, our need for God’s help with how we ail others. Practice,
for keeping on doing that throughout the week, the day; reliving God’s love, as
we know the mercy flows.
We hear the
Word proclaimed and broken open. Jesus tells us in the Gospel that he announces
everything to us, and the great gift of Scripture is part of how he does that.
We relive the old old story as we hear and tell it. We relive God’s loving gift
of those deeds and those words. And we practice really listening.
We lift up our
needs and the needs of the world in prayer, and then all that prayer is summed
up and all our needs and sacrifices offered up in the Eucharistic Prayer. And
we relive God’s gift of self on Calvary Hill, re-presented to us again. We’re
there, as Jesus offers himself. Offers himself for us. Offers himself to us. We
adore. “We proclaim your death, O Lord,” we sing to him as he sits enthroned on
the altar. “Lamb of God” we sing to him as he breaks for us. “Amen.” As we
receive him. We relive God’s love, and we practice calling out to him, so we
may see his presence in all we do.
And we’re sent.
We don’t just wander out of Mass. We’re sent. “Go in peace, glorifying the Lord
by your life.” We leave sent, practicing to hear God’s voice as He sends us
throughout the week, that we might follow.
So, almighty
God, we ask you: help us to celebrate with heartfelt devotion these days of
joy, which we keep in honor of the risen Lord, and that what we relive in
remembrance we may always hold to in what we do.
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