The Twenty-sixth Sunday in
Ordinary Time (A)
Dear
brothers and sisters,
As
pundits and commentators across this nation debate the proper posture before
sporting events as if it were a matter of the highest importance, Saint Paul
reminds us today that, because of his “becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross, “every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth
and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the
glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:8, 10-11). Is this not why we make a
genuflection to the Blessed Sacrament each time we enter a church or chapel
where the sanctuary candle gently burns?
It
is not my intention today to comment upon the secular argument presently
embroiling so many because whether one stands, kneels, or sits during the
national anthem is not among the concerns of the Church. I do, however, wish to
pose a related question: How different would this country be if Catholics cared
as much about proper respect for the Blessed Sacrament as they seemingly do about
a flag? To be sure, rage is certainly not a virtue, but when did you last hear
of someone becoming upset enough to speak up about a lack of reverence toward
the Eucharist? Romano Guardini once asked this question:
Is there anything more
embarrassing than the manner in which some people, upon entering a church,
after an anemic genuflection immediately flop into their seats? Isn’t this
precisely how they take their places on a park bench or at the movies?
Apparently they have no idea where they are…[1]
This
does not seem to be a particular problem here at St. Augustine’s, but the fact
that so many Catholics are apparently quite upset about a perceived disrespect
of a flag but say nothing when the Blessed Sacrament is disrespected shows that
something is awry in regards to our faith.
All
this being said, there is something good to be found in the present debate,
namely the recognition that “action is more than mere external happening.”[2] To put it another way,
there is a recognition that
the nobler, the more
difficult or important the task to be accomplished, the more completely I must
give it my attention, earnestness, eagerness, and love, participating in it
from the heart and with all the creative élan [energy] of the mind. That is
composure: heart and mind concentrated on the here and now, not off on
daydreams; it is being all here.[3]
If
this is true of patriotic gestures, how much more so is it of what regards the
divine? How much more so must we have proper composure before God?
Our
word genuflect comes from two Latin words: genu,
meaning knee, and flexio, meaning to
bend. To genuflect, then, means to bend the knee and, as such, is a movement
filled with much meaning.
In
the first place, the act of genuflecting before God reminds us that “the body
has a place within the divine worship of the Word made flesh.”[4] In the second place, it
reminds us that “the bodily gesture itself is the bearer of the spiritual
meaning, which is precisely that of worship. Without the worship, the bodily
gesture would be meaningless, while the spiritual act must of its very nature,
because of the psychosomatic unity of man, expresses itself in the bodily
gesture.”[5] We must, then, have the
proper composure when we genuflect if we are not to be like that son who said,
“‘Yes, sir,’ but did not go” (Matthew 21:30).
Today,
we tend to view the strength of a man as a being in his upper body, which is
possibly why many, as we say, skip leg day. But this was not always the case
with every people. For example, we often forget what the Hebrews knee. They “regarded
the knees as a symbol of strength.”[6] If we think about this for
just a moment, it makes great sense. If you take a stick and strike a man on
his knees, what happens? He falls to the ground. His strength fails. This does
not generally happen if you strike him on his upper body. “To bend the knee is,
therefore, to bend our strength before the living God, an acknowledgment of the
fact that all that we are we receive from him.”[7] It is a gesture by which
we seek to place all that we are before God, to set ourselves aside in his
service and for his honor.
To
our modern ears, this might seem old-fashioned or an abnegation of our freedom
and something demeaning to our own dignity. This is why Saint Paul tells us to
“have in you the same attitude that is also in Christ Jesus” who “emptied
himself” (Philippians 2:5, 7). Saint Augustine reminds us that Jesus “is said
to have ‘emptied himself’ in no other way than by taking the form of a servant,
not by losing the form of God.”[8] If the Son of God lost
nothing of his dignity when he took our lowly flesh, neither will we lose any
of our dignity when we bend the knee before him. When we kneel before God, we
express in our body what should already have taken place in our hearts, a
turning away “from the wickedness
[we have] committed” to do “what is right and just” (Ezekiel 18:27). When
we kneel before the humility of Jesus, we say to him, “The sins of my youth and
my frailties remember not; in your kindness remember me, because of your
goodness, O Lord” (Psalm 25:7). We
should long to bend our knees before Jesus because he “guides the humble to
justice, and teaches the humble his way” (Psalm 25:9).
If
nothing else, the act of genuflecting should remind us that
we do not come to church to attend the service (which usually means
as a spectator), but in order, along with the priest, to serve God. Everything
we do – our entering, being present, our kneeling and sitting and standing, our
reception of the sacred nourishment – should be divine service. This is so only
when all we do overflows from the
awareness of a collected heart and the mind’s attentiveness.[9]
Let
us, then, strive to have the proper composure whenever we make a genuflection,
lest our external action not mirror our internal desire. Let us recognize the
Eucharistic Lord who is present with us humbly bow down in love.
Whenever
we bend the knee before the Lord Jesus, we cannot fail to remember that
He has himself knelt down to
wash our feet. And that gives to our adoration the quality of being unforced,
adoration in joy and in hope, because we are bowing down before him who bowed
down, because we bow down to enter into a love that does not make slaves of us
but transforms us. So let us ask the Lord that he may grant us to understand
this and to rejoice in it and that this understanding and this joy may spread
out from this day far and wide into our country and our everyday life.[10]
Amen!
[1] Romano Guardini, Meditations Before Mass (Manchester, New Hampshire: Sophia
Institute Press, 1993), 29.
[2] Ibid.,
27.
[3] Ibid.,
27-28. Emphasis original.
[4] Joseph Ratzinger, The Spirit of the Liturgy, trans. John Saward (San Francisco,
California: Ignatius Press, 2000), 176-177.
[5] Ibid.,
190.
[6] Ibid.,
191.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Contra Faustum, 3.6. In Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture,
New Testament Vol. VIII: Galatians, Ephesians, Philippians. Thomas C. Oden,
et al, eds. (Downers Grove, Illinois:
Inter Varsity Press, 1999), 230.
[9] Romano Guardini, Meditations Before Mass, 31. Emphases original.
[10] Joseph Ratzinger, God is Near Us: The Eucharist, the Heart of Life, trans. Henry
Taylor (San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 2003, 113.
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