Recognizing Christ

Friday in the Octave of Easter

Acts 4:1-12

Psalm 118

John 21:1-14

How do the disciples, in the days after the Resurrection, recognize Christ?

In the mundane things: the questions He asks of them, the things He advises they do, in the way He eats and says their names. 

Imagine if, instead of recognizing that it was Christ who ordered them to cast their nets on the right side of the boat, they thought it was just some random bystander. "Thanks for the advice!" they might have shouted. And they would have gone merrily on their way. But because their attitude was one of attentive waiting, of watchfulness, of hope, they were able to recognize Christ in the midst of this mundane activity of fishing - and then respond to him. (As an aside, sometimes I do wonder how many other people Christ may have also appeared to, but gone unnoticed, unrecognized, unremarked by - how many people saw Him without seeing, and therefore were unable to respond.)

Part of this response does mean, I think, to fulfill and complete the mundane activity which we were doing when we encountered him. Although the impetuous Peter, God bless him, leaped into the water to run to his Christ, the other disciples pulled the nets into shore. And Jesus took the fish that they had caught and cooked them so that they all might eat. 

In this way Christ blesses and fulfills the activities and events of our daily lives. We offer Him whatever "fish" we catch - the work that we do, the leisure we enjoy, the chores we perform, the art or music or writing we create - and He takes them, blesses them, and returns them to us in a sort of Eucharistic exchange: through Your goodness we receive the bread we offer, fruit of the earth and work of human hands.

And what is the blessing we receive when God returns to us what we offered Him? Why, Christ Himself! But we cannot cut out the "work of human hands" bit. Christ did not magically drop fish from the sky into the disciples' boat. The disciples had to do the work: cast the net, haul it in, struggle with it as it nearly overturned their boat. But when they did this work, and recognized it as work given to them by Christ, and offered to Christ the fruit of their work - and in doing so, they saw and experienced and received the presence of the Risen Christ.

St. Jean Vianney once said: Do nothing that you cannot offer to God. Jean-Pierre de Caussade says, There is not a moment in which God does not present Himself under the cover of some duty to be performed. . . If we were attentive and watchful, we should see His divine action in everything that happens to us, and rejoice in it. At each successive occurrence we should exclaim, 'It is the Lord!', and we should accept every fresh circumstance as a gift of God. The rule is simple: if we offer ourselves to God, God will offer Himself to us - or, more precisely, if we offer ourselves to God we will be able to see that God is always and everywhere offering Himself to us.

Practically speaking, this means that we must live lives of gratitude, knowing that hidden under the veil of each moment Christ waits to give Himself to us if only we will receive Him. We must live lives of service, recognizing that everything we do or endure can be a sacrifice which we can offer to God. At each demand, each difficulty, even each suffering placed on us by others or by circumstance, we must be ready to cry out, It is the Lord! and ask ourselves how God is showing His love to us in this situation, and how He is asking us to respond. 

To Breathe with the Holy Spirit

Thursday in the Octave of Easter

In today's First Reading, a man has just been cured through the post-Pentecost prayers of St. Peter. The man clings to Peter in gratitude, and the people turn to him in wonderment. But instead of drawing attention to himself, to his own miracle-working power and his own greatness, Peter turns the attention to God. I did not cure him, says Peter, Christ did. 

I teach my Confirmation students about Pentecost as the reversal of the Babel incident. At Babel, the people were so intent on glorifying themselves, on getting themselves to heaven by their own efforts, that their own pride condemned them to disharmony and discord, an inability to communicate and understand each other, through the scattering of tongues. At Pentecost, the scattering of tongues is not undone, but rather overcome, so that where diversity once meant disunity, now diversity is a means for unity. 

At Pentecost the Holy Spirit breathed in the Apostles, sharing His breath with them. Now, when they open their lips, they do not use their tongues to foster the self-aggrandizing pride that leads to envy and hatred. Rather, they use their tongues to praise God - an act of humility that leads to blessing and repentance. It's a fulfillment of Christ's words in the Gospel today, that the minds of the Apostles would be open to understand Scripture, how it applies to them, and how they are to live - and speak, and preach - in response to it.

Speech is a profoundly human act. Though other animals may indeed have the ability to communicate through the strategic use of sound, speech is the human fulfillment of that communicative activity - granted to us in our very natures by virtue of our creation in God's image. And, like all else in nature, speech is perfected by grace at work in our souls. The speech of the Apostles at Pentecost is this grace-perfected speech - speech that communicates the Gospel truth of God's love for us. 

And because of the Resurrection, the truth that this speech professes is not mere metaphysical speculation. It is based in the Apostles' direct experience of the Risen Christ - a Christ who could be touched and seen, who could eat and drink, who could call them by name. In Pentecost, the Holy Spirit empowers us to unite all our own physical activities - our own eating and drinking, touching and seeing, and, yes, our speaking too - with Christ's Risen Body. Christ's Spirit now breathes in us, and with each breath we take we are called to exhale it in praise of God. 

This has profound implications for how I am called to live my daily life. Does my everyday speech, do my everyday words, give praise to God by bearing witness to self-giving love? Peter used his speech not to draw attention to himself - not to say, Look at how much I love you, all the good I've done for you, how hard I've worked for you, how much I've suffered - but to point to Christ - to say, Look at how much Christ loves me, that He gives me the opportunity to work for you; look at how much Christ loves you, that He fulfills His promises to you, that He heals you, that He forgives you! Does my speech give witness to what Christ has done for me? Does it reflect gratitude, love, healing, forgiveness, hope, selfless service?

Too often - more often than not - it doesn't. What do I use my speech for? To complain and to gripe. To argue. To express anger or impatience or frustration. To serve my own desires. To gossip. To brag. Christ tells me that I will be accountable for these words (Mt 12:36), because words are powerful. They can heal, as Christ's words do (Talitha koum) - but they can also kill (Anyone who says, Raqa, will be liable to judgment). 

I hate seeing how my own speech hurts others. I hate when I feel the temptation to use my speech to hurt others. And it is so very tempting, because it seems so innocuous. To make the snide comment, the passive-aggressive aside. To ask the "innocent question" that is really a criticism, to make the "simple observation" that is really a condemnation. To raise my voice in anger. To focus on myself in self-centered, falsely humble navel-gazing, and expecting others to join me! 

May I breathe in the Holy Spirit, that my own breath may be pure. May Christ save me from being condemned by my own tongue.