I don't know about you, but these readings in the traditional calendar during the past few weeks have just really spoke to me and are so timely. Consider the Epistle today:
"Brethren: If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I should have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and if I should deliver my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil: Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
Charity never falleth away: whether prophecies shall be made void or tongues shall cease or knowledge shall be destroyed. For we know in part: and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child. But, when I became a man, I put away the things of a child. We see now through a glass in a dark manner: but then face to face. Now I know in part: but then I shall know even as I am known. And now there remain faith, hope, and charity, these three: but the greatest of these is charity." (1 Cor 13:1-13).
Paul (and by extension, the Church) reminds us of the essential, the necessary, the heart of the Christian life. We have begun the process of stripping away and getting to the core of things over these past three weeks in order to keep up the momentum for the spiritual battle ahead of us.
But we don't strip away everything. Charity must remain, and remain in abundance, or else prayer, fasting, and almsgiving have no merit or meaning.
And in Luke's Gospel, when the Lord gives his apostles a precursor to the coming days, it is also written, "And they understood none of these things, and this word was hid from them: and they understood not the things that were said." When they move on to Jericho, a blind man is causing a commotion. This blind man the disciples rebuked on account of his desperate crying out, his cries for mercy. And yet it is this man who is made to see, and the disciples blind (Lk 18:31-43).
We can be like the disciples--thinking we know what we're in for for the next forty days, with our resolutions and noble aspirations to be better, to be good. But it's kind of like standing at the altar on your wedding day, isn't it? You don't really know what you're pledging for the coming years, what you are vowing to live by or if you will really live it out in your marriage. In sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. I mean, you know the words you are vowing, and you may stand behind them that day even as a couple of dumb kids in love. But you haven't really been tested yet, have you? You are in health, for richer rather than for poorer as you stand before your witnesses. When we are led into temptation, we can only cry out in total dependence on grace as the blind man of Jericho, "Jesus! Mercy!"
Lent is about strength, about coming through the other side, but also about weakness. It is about the externals, but really about the heart of things. The feast of the wedding is kind of like our Shrove Tuesday, before the real work of marriage begins.
And what are we working on? Charity. To love our spouse as Christ loved the Church, and to love Christ as we should love our spouse.
But we sin against our spouse, don't we? We fail in charity. We may betray their trust. We take them for granted. We sometimes cut them at the knees, because we know them more intimately than anyone else does, and know the chinks in their armor. Selfishness constantly threatens to steal us away from our vows and promises, leading us to sin against the person we should love and cherish the most. In exchange for what? For indulging the self.
And so we live out our vows on the practice field. We give our spouse the bigger pork chop, even when we want it ourselves. We cultivate kindness towards them when we don't feel kind on the inside. We dig deep to fast from anger even when we are justified in it. Charity is patient, is kind: charity envieth not, dealeth not perversely, is not puffed up, Is not ambitious, seeketh not her own, is not provoked to anger, thinketh no evil: Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth with the truth: Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Faith. Hope. Charity. But the greatest of these is charity.
As disciples of Jesus Christ, we pray for our eyes to be opened, to be able to see. To see how to love and serve him more fittingly and more fully. We are invited into the intimacy of relationship with him, just as we live out intimacy in our marriage--of knowing someone more fully than anyone else, warts and all. The Lord has none of these warts, but our spouses do. Isn't that really what Lent comes down to: the ideal and the real? Our noble plans and the embarrassing reality, sometimes?
And yet, if we can keep charity at the forefront of our practices, we can be assured that our efforts will not be wasted. We can be forgiven for our failures and faults, have our eyes be opened. Above all things have fervent charity among yourselves: for charity shall cover the multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8).
Beautiful! Thank you.
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