From Idolatry to Adoration

Today the Lord led me to an important moment of conversion which restored a peace of mind, heart, and body that I haven't known in a very long time. The funny thing is that I had been seeking such peace quite assiduously. Searching in all the wrong places, though, I had come up empty-handed--not to mention rather high-strung and stressed. Now I do not lead a very trying existence. So when I find myself in such a state of mind, it means something must be done. But the wrong antidote will not cure a poison, no matter how much you take. Thankfully, the Divine Pharmacist provided me with the perfect tonic.

I am a Minister of Care at a local hospital, which means I visit the patients and give them Holy Communion. Lately I have fallen short in meeting my monthly and quite minimal time commitment. But, as sometimes happens in the spiritual life of any religious person, duty led to devotion.

Praying the night before for inspiration and grace sufficient to the task, I was struck as never before by the serious privilege it is to carry Christ's body and blood to those who desire him. The thought struck me--as I walk the halls of the hospital, I'm carrying God in my pocket!

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There is a legitimate strain in contemporary Christian thought that emphasizes God's transcendence, which puts a particular stress on our complete inability to grasp the nature of God. It is, as I say, legitimate because we are all too quick to remake God as we desire. To box God in like this is to cripple our spiritual lives. Ritual becomes stale and loses its sense of communal significance, "ever ancient and ever new;" prayer becomes manipulation of a god we have crafted ourselves. The illusion of controlling God grows old rather quickly, and we find ourselves praying less and less.

Recognizing the fact that God is transcendent frees us from the fool's notion that we can control God, and injects the mystery that is a necessary part of true love. Couple that with the recognition that God is Good, and--spiritually speaking--we start cooking with gas. An uncontrollable but supremely good Father is a great person to lean on, to talk to all day, and most importantly to trust. When we hand over the keys to God, things get interesting...and better.

What does all this have to do with carrying God in your pocket? Simply this: amidst all the good advice about not boxing God in, it is tempting to scoff at the notion of the Eucharist. "God in your pocket? Hah! Who do you think you are? You think that a puny human ritual can cram God, in all His transcendence, down into a coin-sized wafer?" (Apparently the part of The Skeptic is played tonight by the Incredible Hulk.)

But our Christian skeptic is making a serious theological error. "Is God truly transcendent?" we might ask him. "If so, then what better way to transcend our notions of divinity than by shrinking down to a wafer and offering Himself to us as food?"

I accept the notion of the Eucharist because my Church teaches its validity. But I consider it reasonable because of its strangeness. Who would dream up such an idea, and why? The Apostles and early Christians literally risked life and limb to pass this tradition down to us. And I totally buy it.

So, carrying God in my pocket today, as I have done so many times in the past, I felt more than ever the "peace that surpasses all understanding." It took hold of me like never before. I constantly must remind myself in this ministry that it's not about me, and that what I "get" out of the experience neither measures nor affects the grace of the Sacrament for those receiving it. But today, God reached me from the other side of the Eucharist.

All those months--years, perhaps?--I had turned to various idols looking for self-made deliverance from self-made problems: health, relationships, money, experiences. But Ecclesiastes is right--all is truly vanity, at least without God. Pope Francis puts it well in his new encyclical:

Once man has lost the fundamental orientation which unifies his existence, he breaks down into the multiplicity of his desires; in refusing to await the time of promise, his life-story disintegrates into a myriad of unconnected instants. Idolatry, then, is always polytheism, an aimless passing from one lord to another. Idolatry does not offer a journey but rather a plethora of paths leading nowhere and forming a vast labyrinth.

Best wishes to you, Dear Reader, as we strive together to recover and retain the epicenter of our existence, Christ Jesus. See you at Communion.

Sincerely,
Joezilla

The 100-Year-Old Tweet

In the 1920s, saxophonist Frankie Trumbauer was the cat’s meow.  Along with other early jazz musicians like the awesomely-named Bix Beiderbecke, Trumbauer enjoyed a brief stint of popularity that earned him a permanent place in jazz history.  His most notable tune, “Singin’ the Blues,” has recently captivated my attention in an inexplicable way.  I strongly suggest you listen to the song (by clicking here) while reading this post.  Not only will it set the tone and give more meaning to my meandering musings, but it will also get your toe tapping.

While Trumbauer’s music may sound lovably quaint and vaguely predictable to our modern ears—which have soaked in a musical atmosphere that is both more developed and less refined than that of the 1920s—it was rather edgy in its time.

As a fan of early jazz, I often wonder about the musicians that wrote and performed this bouncy and light-hearted music, and the young people who absorbed it as the “cool” music of their day.  Working with such old audio, it is difficult to imagine that this was all real.  The grainy recordings, with their muted articulations, poor balance, and general “over-the-phone” impression, seem to me the faint and fading transmissions of a distant and alien people—no less vivid and human than I am—but sadly unable to convey that humanity fully on account of impotent technology.

However, there is a bright side to this heretofore melancholy discussion, and that is simply this: We’re talking about music, and music can be resurrected like the Phoenix by any interested musician.  And that is perhaps the greatest way to forge a connection with these long lost musicians and listeners that I’ve been referring to.  Play the music again, here, now.

Today I was transcribing (i.e. listening to and figuring out the notes to a song) Trumbauer’s “Singin’ the Blues” on alto saxophone.  After blowing through Trumbauer’s first chorus, I was grinning with delight to be playing such outrageously outdated music in the 21st century.  But in truth, music is never outdated—as long as someone is still playing it.  As long as it resonates in someone’s heart and echoes back in their humming, strumming, blowing, or plunking, the sound gap has been bridged, the era barrier toppled.  A connection has been made across time, and the experience and energy of our ancestors is retweeted for a new generation.

The word “tradition” comes from the Latin verb trado which, devoid of any connotations, literally means “to hand over.”  Tradition is precisely that, the handing over of some treasured knowledge, wisdom, or practice to those who come after.  Obviously, not everything can be handed down from one generation to the next.  Rod Stewart (whom, trust me, you do not want to Google image-search) wisely reminds us in “Forever Young,”

And when you finally fly away, I’ll be hoping that I served you well
For all the wisdom of a lifetime, no one can ever tell.

Nonetheless, it is the duty of every person to hand down to their successors all that they needed to survive and thrive, and hopefully whatever they learned along the way—for by way of persistent regret or contented nostalgia, the most important lessons of life have a way of sticking with us to the end.

Christians know all about tradition.  Catholics even like to capitalize the word, and they are wise to do so.  Tradition (thus capitalized) refers not merely to teachings that are written in books or spoken by sages; Tradition is the entire life of the Church, the acts of liturgy, the works of service, and the mysterious but unmistakable presence and personality of Christ that remains in the heart of every genuine Christian.

Think about this: how is it that most anyone who believes in Christ can, with little difficulty, answer the question “What would Jesus do” in a given situation?  The answer is that we have been taught who Jesus was, how he acted, what his presence was like, by our elders.  And where did our elders receive this precious information?  From their elders.  If we continue the inquiry, the chain continues backward through history until we bump into the Apostles, hastily preaching the Good News to anyone who would listen, and finally we reach Christ himself—the source and ever-present life of our Church.

Open up the Bible to the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-12), and go live one of those out today.  Put that written word into practice.  Retweet the love of Christ through your own actions.  Those who come after you will appreciate it.