Left At The Altar

My wife and I were joking yesterday about how compatible we are given that we are, well, almost complete opposites. We complement each other in that way, and fill in for each other's deficiencies like spackle puttied into nail holes in the drywall of life.

The topic du jour was environmental awareness. I am hyper aware of my surroundings--noises, people, energy (both good and bad), knowing where the exits are at parties, etc. My wife on the other hand is generally oblivious to such things. We've speculated that our differences in birth order contribute to this. 

As the youngest of four, my wife was used to having to wait for things, and was generally taken care of growing up. As a result she is very patient, and she also doesn't understand why the socks she leaves at the foot of the bed are still there the next morning rather than in the hamper where they belong. She also doesn't get worked up about things. Once when she was little her parents took her and her siblings out to eat at a pizza parlor. When they were finished they left, forgetting her at the restaurant. No one realized it until they got home, at which point her dad rushed back to get her. She never made a peep; she just sat wondering where they had gone. 

As the oldest of three boys, I am used to taking on the weight of the world's problems and having to be responsible for everything, which makes me prone to anxiety. Growing up, I was hyper-sensitive to even the slightest relational and familial discord, and part of that was magnified by living with a parent with bi-polar disorder (my father). If things were 'off'--if my dad and I had had some kind of strain in our relationship, or some kind of emotional tension, or he was unwell and we had to walk on eggshells...it was hard to rest until it was resolved. Thankfully we have a good relationship, but it's always apparent when something has not been dealt with between us. It won't be long before it comes up and, ultimately, put to rest.

Now it's my turn to be the bi-polar dad, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree with my progeny, my firstborn. My son is emotionally sensitive, a very neat, astute, and affable boy who is, like his father, hyper attuned to things being right and in harmony between us. He wants to be like daddy. If he feels I am angry with him, or if he in turn is angry and throwing fits, he can't rest until things are made right. He pushes you away when he really wants a hug, and, amazingly, he is aware of this pattern in himself as well. I see it because I am the same way, and I know how complicated those emotions can get. My wife is baffled by it, but she's learning.

We do our best to always resolve such issues before falling asleep, taking to heart St. Paul's admonition in Ephesians 4:26 not to let the sun go down on one's wrath. On the occasions when he has fallen asleep, exhausted from a fit of stubborn anger, he is like a computer put in hibernate or standby mode--as soon as he wakes up, his emotional state kicks right back into where it left off. 

St. John Chrysostom, in his Homily 16 on the Gospel of Matthew, makes notes that the night is not our friend in this regard:

"For much as Christ by this argument of the sacrifice, so there Paul by that of the day, is urging us on to the self-same point. Because in truth he fears the night, lest it overtake him that is smitten alone, and make the wound greater. For whereas in the day there are many to distract, and draw him off; in the night, when he is alone, and is thinking it over by himself, the waves swell, and the storm becomes greater. Therefore Paul, you see, to prevent this, would fain commit him to the night already reconciled, that the devil may after that have no opportunity, from his solitude, to rekindle the furnace of his wrath, and make it fiercer."

Where this issue of reconciliation becomes especially pertinent is before Mass. We have had some blow ups before Mass, times when he has been in the wrong, and times where I have to be the one asking forgiveness.

Case in point: we had one of these episodes last week before Sunday Mass, and didn't have time to deal with it beforehand. I like to pray the rosary in the pew if we get to the church early enough, and invite the kids to join in with me. But something about praying when you have unforgiveness in your heart--whether its towards your son, your father, your wife, or a stranger--feels rotten and moldy, not to mention hypocritical. It becomes a kind of outward pious action when the inside is dead men's bones (Mt 23:27), an unholy oblation.

Not much keeps me from receiving the Lord in the Eucharist these days. I take to heart the words of St. Paul who says that we eat and drink condemnation on ourselves when we eat and drink in an unworthy manner (1 Cor 11:29). If I have committed a mortal sin, of course the need for the Sacrament of Penance prior to Communion is warranted. But I also know the Devil can use scruples against us to keep us from the Lord when it comes to less serious sins.

However, there are times when I am convicted not to receive Communion, and those are the times when I have anger in my heart, and a stubborn unforgiveness towards someone, that has not been reconciled.

We read in Matthew's Gospel where our Lord says:

“Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them; then come and offer your gift." (Mt 5:23-24)

St. John Chrysostom, again, expounds on this exegetically much better than I can:

"Yea, for this cause He said not, "after the offering," or "before the offering"; but, while the very gift lies there, and when the sacrifice is already beginning, He sends you to be reconciled to your brother; and neither after removing that which lies before us, nor before presenting the gift, but while it lies in the midst, He bids you hasten there. 

With what motive then does He command so to do, and wherefore? These two ends, as it appears to me, He is hereby shadowing out and providing for. First, as I have said, His will is to point out that He highly values charity, and considers it to be the greatest sacrifice: and that without it He does not receive even that other; next, He is imposing such a necessity of reconciliation, as admits of no excuse. For whoever has been charged not to offer before he be reconciled, will hasten, if not for love of his neighbor, yet, that this may not lie unconsecrated, to run unto him who has been grieved, and do away the enmity. For this cause He has also expressed it all most significantly, to alarm and thoroughly to awaken him. Thus, when He had said, Leave your gift, He stayed not at this, but added, before the altar (by the very place again causing him to shudder); and go away. And He said not merely, Go away, but He added, first, and then come and offer your gift. By all these things making it manifest, that this table receives not them that are at enmity with each other."

St. John Chrysostom notes that charity is the greatest sacrifice. The Catechism notes that charity is superior to all the virtues (CCC 1826). 1 Cor 13:13 is where we often hear of the virtue of "faith, hope, and love," but that the Greek term used is agape, or selfless love. Charity is the love of God and the love of neighbor for the sake of God. When you think of an altar, there is a liturgical/religious connotation. The altar is not the place where we gather around as brothers and sisters, holding hands and breaking bread together in a common meal (except maybe in instances of egregious liturgical abuse). The altar is primarily the place of sacrifice, and it is about God.

And yet, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit," one He will not despise (Ps 51:17). "I desire mercy, not sacrifice," says the Lord (Hos 6:6). St. James writes of pure and undefiled religion as caring for widows and orphans in their affliction (James 1:27). And St. John recognizes anyone as a liar who say they love God but do not love his brother or sister (1 Jn 4:20). And

Your conscience knows when things are not right between you and a spouse, a child, a parent, or a friend. Charity demands we not hesitate, that we leave our gift "lie in the midst" to attend to the work of seeking forgiveness and reconciliation. It becomes our sacrifice, one pleasing to the Lord. Any gift or offering we bring without attending to this first is noxious to Him.

Before the sun goes down, reconcile to those whom you have wronged and seek forgiveness, and to those who have wronged you, forgive them. Charity, an oblation perfect and pleasing and to God, demands it.