Homily

Thursday, March 20, 2008, Holy Thursday, Mass of the Lord's Supper
Assumption Grotto Parish, Detroit

The Tabernacle: Gethsemane of the World

Praise, o Zion, your Savior; for on this solemn night is again celebrated the first institution of the Supper (1) . And so we begin the fulfillment of every prophecy the Holy Spirit ever placed in the mouths of each of the prophets. On this night, the Creator of the stars bent down to wash the feet of sinful men. The return of our thanks, however, has only been lives full of selfishness and sin. We continually abandon the Lord in the Gethsemane of the world, when the smallest bit of our affection would comfort his Sacred Heart immensely.

We know of the great chapters of God’s love. We have been taught that God is a Trinity, and a communion of love. We know that he created all things and holds all things in existence. We have learned that he moves all, knows all, loves all; that His very nature is Truth and Beauty, Justice and Might. He has saved Israel again and again with his mighty arm, and he was always jealous of Israel’s love. We even have read in Exodus (chapter 12) of the foreshadowing of the Last Supper, that meal whose meaning was unknown until the Last Supper of the Lord. Yet, what could have prepared us for this? Christ put a cloth around himself, like a slave, went upon his knees, and washed the feet of each of the apostles.

Peter’s protestations were not strange, for we all feel as he did: “Lord, you will never wash my feet.” Yet our protestations are evidence of our own fault: for it is by pride that we do not allow ourselves to be the passive recipients of love, most especially God’s love. We want to be above that, to be self-sufficient, to be the heroes in our own imaginary epic story, above all need, stronger than the rest. We want to pat ourselves on the back for washing the Lord’s feet; yet the Lord is the one who washes our feet, and to our horror we find in ourselves only misery and the need of salvation. For we did not wash our Lord’s feet, we put nails through them! Pride, pride, and thrice damnable pride! Yet see now the Lord’s humility, who even washed the feet of Judas. He took his feet, gently poured water over them, rubbing the filth off with gentleness and care, all along knowing that Judas had already sold him. What was going on in Judas’ mind? He looked down at the Lord and, despising him, thought, “This is not the Messiah I wanted; I have sold a slave for the price of a slave,” and so attempted to justify his agonizing conscience.

Yet listen to what St. John writes in his Gospel. In one place he says, “He loved his own in the world, and he loved them to the end” (Jn 13:1). He also says, “He came to his own, and his own did not receive him” (Jn 1:11). He loved those who rejected him unto the end, shaming men who only occasionally muster enough love to love those who love them. And it was because we did not accept him that he entered into his Passion.

For the scriptures tell us that after the Last Supper, the Lord went to the Mount of Olives, and there he prayed, and his disciples abandoned him. They all slept while he entered into the great agony of our salvation. Now, here it is very significant that the Lord was alone.

He was alone not only exteriorly, but also on his interior, because he saw all the suffering that was about to avalanche upon him. It wasn’t just the slaps and punches, nor just the beatings, nor just the crown of thorns, nor the heavy burden of his cross, nor just the nails or the lance. It was also the spiritual suffering. He saw men’s love for their sins. He saw the endless heresies. He saw the countless separations of communities from the One True Church. He saw those Catholics who were only Catholics in name. He saw the apathy and coldness of the greater number of the baptized towards the things of God. He saw men’s contempt of the elderly, and the despair of the young. He saw the ugly, no, hideous Churches erected supposedly to worship him. He saw the unworthy vestments used at the Mass, and the unworthy vessels in which the Eucharist would be held. He saw how many souls in all the course of history would receive the sacraments unworthily. He saw those who would use him and his divine gifts with great sensuality, as if they only served as an emotional feel-good pill. He witnessed the infidelity of Religious to their vows and to the Church. He saw the priests and bishops in mortal sin, walking the sad path of Judas. He saw the black Masses and the servants of Satan. He saw those many, many souls who would fall into hell, like so many snowflakes, for all of whom his entire humiliation, suffering, death and resurrection would do absolutely no good. While he saw all of these things, he was alone. This is why he reproached his disciples. For God is a Trinity, a community of persons; it is profoundly against his nature to suffer loneliness.

This agony did not simply distress him, but it caused him unspeakable anguish, and in this anguish, he broke out into a sweat; indeed, as the scriptures tell us, a sweat of blood. And with this powerful blood he bathed the rocks of the fallen world.

Do we think his Gethsemane ended that night? No, I have this unfortunate news to report: his Gethsemane continues. Look around you in the great world today, and what do you see? That the Lord continues to suffer abandonment, and we leave him alone. You may ask, How can this be? If God is in heaven, and he is perfectly happy with the angels and saints, how can you assert that he suffers loneliness? The answer to this is found in the mystery of the Eucharist.

For when the Lord instituted the Eucharist, he indeed gave us food, but the food was neither bread nor wine: it was his own body, blood, human soul, and divinity. Now this sacrament, the Eucharist, has two aspects; it is Presence, and it is Sacrifice. The Presence of God, in both his humanity and divinity, is in every tabernacle of the world. But sometimes we forget that it is equally true that his Sacrifice is present in every tabernacle of the world. It is no longer in a bloody fashion, as it was on the cross; but neither was it in a bloody fashion at the Last Supper, and this too is a mystery.

After the Last Supper, the Lord agonized for us sinners in Gethsemane. And so after every mass, the Lord remains a sacrifice for sinners in the Tabernacle. The tabernacles in the world are like the Gethsemane of the world. And before the tabernacle we find the same things which we found in Gethsemane: the Lord is abandoned, the Lord is offended, the Lord is disgraced. It seems like we never pay any attention, in our day and age, to the Eucharist in the Tabernacle, except when in so many Churches, men gather to abuse the Eucharist. If the Christ sweat blood that night, then it is a miracle rivers, nay, torrents of blood do not spring from the cracks of the doors of the Tabernacles in every place. And this is why reparation for the sins against the Eucharist is so important.

How can we console our Lord, then, after having sinned so often and so gravely before him? Indeed, what a privilege it is, that the Lord invites us to console him. How can sinners console God? Mary in Fatima told Francisco how: tell him you love him. Tonight, during adoration after Mass and Compline, stay some time, and tell him you love him. Promise him that you will follow him. Ask him for his grace. Renounce your sins. Praise him for the Eucharist, Sacrament of Love. Allow yourselves to be recipients of his Love, even though you don’t deserve it, even though you think you can manage without it. Forgive your enemies and those who do you evil. Take your lives and your hearts tonight, before the tabernacle, and give them to the Lord, and give them away to God once and for all, give yourself to the Eucharist with two open hands. Keep nothing for yourself, and enter into the dark light of the mystery of God.

Could you not watch one hour with him? Are your eyes to sleepy, too heavy, to return a drop of love for the ocean of love which flows from the Eucharist in the Tabernacle? Keep watch this night, make the extra sacrifice, and do so with love. Watch neither for barbarians who may invade, nor for thieves who may break in. Watch not your exterior, watch rather your interior, and in the silent interior of your mind and heart, the Eucharist will enlighten you with his Truth, and enflame your hearts with the love of his divine grace. Amen.