Retaking the Citadel

The Arabic letter, “nun”. This is tagged on Christian homes in the Middle East by ISIS to indicate that they follow the Nazarene named Jesus.

More often than not, my heart is weary that Christendom is so divided. Ecumenism to combat our broken nature as a Church is often a circling game of empty promises that amount to nothing. In the end (and I have been guilty of it), our fallen nature resorts to demonizing other Christians, and it would have been better to have our mouths closed.

Catholicism, Protestantism, Orthodoxy: all have majestic saints which means all will have great sinners. And believe it or not, we have one Master in Jesus Christ. Period.

True, a papist will chide the sola scriptura adherent for lack of tradition whereas the latter chides the former’s lack of scriptural literacy among the laity. The Orthodox will look at these two Western strains and harp at them as products of a vain schism lasting nearly a millennium, seeing itself as a divine tradition of the East. Likewise, the West shifts blame of this same schism back to the Orthodox. Every tradition is guilty of doubting the other’s faith in Christ because of its ecclesiology. 

But let’s face facts: the world is encroaching on Christians everywhere. With the advent of ISIS, all are marked as a Nazarene regardless of geographical location. All are marked for slaughter. We’re targets at school, in the workplace, and by governments that operate in the name of “democracy”. Christendom is the no longer the prevailing voice of civilization, because it is an ultimate subscription to the Kingship of Jesus the Christ, which is always incompatible with the many faces of Caesar.

We have to hang together lest we hang separately. He who is not against you is for you. He who is not against Christ is for Christ. Our differences remain and are important to the practice of our faith, sure. But let us hash out confessions and hierarchical scruples elsewhere in peace.

Today is a time of war. As Tertullian noted, the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. This scarlet seed is irrigated by Catholic, Protestant, and Orthodox alike. Why? Because He who sanctifies by His blood and those who are sanctified by Him have God as their Father.

We are the children of God, the Father of Lights, and not of the Evil One who dwells in darkness. Let us fight off the black horde together. Let us by our deeds of love prompted by the Mercy given us, muster strength to charge against the blind wickedness snuffing out Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. Let the citadel of the City of God be ablaze to guide the nations once more to the Lamb who is the Light.

Eucharistic Adoration: God With Us

The Holy Father,  Francis,  holding up the Holy God of Israel.

The Lord greets every pilgrim with silence when he enters an adoration chapel in a Catholic parish. Though no words are exchanged, be assured that the Incarnate Word gazes upon you. He who was, who is, and is to come rests on the altar in the monstrance, the Bread of Life, ready to hear and keep you company. There are so many things you want to shout at Him–mostly what’s wrong with the world, why are things crumbling?–but your jaw remains shut because He has already said everything by being the sole sound uttered from the Father.

Other travelers may accompany you in this holy space. Some kneel alongside you, some march right before the Lord and lay before Him as prostrate cruciform temples. Each of us knows that we have a load to bear and our crosses oftentimes feel more than ample. So we come and carry these with the Lord who has conquered the world in them. After all, His yoke is easy, the burden light. The hustle and bustle of the world passes away and dissolves into the stillness of the eternal.

After a while,you start to feel like an Apostle in the Garden of Gethsemane. The Lord’s words of “Would you not watch with me one hour?” become relevant in your drowsiness, aching, and exhaustion. You wonder what the significance is in this Sacrament. Why are we all gathering in a room looking at what at first glance may seem to be a bejeweled wafer? Who is this Jesus? What is He? Should I just go home? Why am I praying?

Then enter the words of St. John the Baptist that are echoed in the Mass: “Behold, the Lamb of God. Behold Him who takes away the sins of the world!” Those questions cease. For the Lamb, Himself food and drink asks us to dine on Him. And if we sup on Him, then we carry Him, and are as He is–eternal. This Sacrament is indeed Blessed for the Good Shepherd, in laying down his life for we sheep feeds us with Calvary’s Sacrifice.

Ghent altarpiece, reflecting attitudes of St. John 1:29 and Revelation 4:8, 5:13.

What Love floods your heart at that moment. Not that you conjured sentimental feelings, but that by His piercing stare in the blank host, you see that His Body, broken for you eliminated the sins that troubled you. The ancient proclamation of “O happy fault that earned for us so great, so glorious a Redeemer!” rings throughout your soul, and you begin to realize that not all is lost. That you were created good. You are called to take the hand of the Lord and share Him. The load of the world could make you fall, but as Christ fell with his Holy Cross, so will you. His strength is made perfect in our weakness.

And if you come when the chapel is about to close for the evening, you see Christ as He ascended in the priest’s uplifting of the Sacrament in Benediction. He left us on earth in blessing, hands outstretched. He greets us now likewise. The Everlasting Arms are always open. The hymn of St. Thomas, then, is apt when we sing:

Down in adoration falling,
This great Sacrament we hail;
Over ancient forms of worship
Newer rites of grace prevail;
Faith will tell us Christ is present,
When our human senses fail.

To the everlasting Father,

And the Son who made us free,
And the Spirit, God proceeding
From them Each eternally,
Be salvation, honor, blessing,
Might and endless majesty. 

Amen and amen. Come to the chapel. Join us wounded gathering our strength. Here, beads rustle in hand, pages turn while candles are burning, yet in the silence Immanuel eases our yearning, God with us.