Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night with a
craving for applesauce? We have tastes that we’ve had all our lives. It turns
out that the food our mothers ate while we were in the womb helps determine our
preferences. There were some studies where one group of expectant mothers were
given a bunch of carrots and asked to eat some every day for nine months. The
other group of mothers was asked to avoid carrots. After the babies were born,
they were all fed mushed carrots. The children whose mothers ate carrots smiled
and happily ate the carrots. The children whose mothers did not eat carrots
frowned and pushed away the strange-tasting new food. We learn a lot from our
parents.
So it is a little sad to look at the portrait of our first
parents, Adam and Eve. There is shame, a feeling that no one wants to feel. They
hide from God, the one person no one should ever need to hide from. In their
dialogue with God they show their sinful pride, and in their denials of
responsibility, they learn how to lie. God carries on the dialogue in a similar
tone; there are curses and punishments for their transgression. This is our
family inheritance. We inherited original sin from Adam and Eve; we have
commited our own personal sins after their example. We find ourselves wrestling
with desires we do not want. We doubt the plain truth that should be obvious.
And we fall into false habits of thinking wrongly.
If we were in God’s position, it might be tempting to give
up, to start all over again. Maybe God should have destroyed our free will. But
instead, God has a better plan to reverse the curse of Adam and Eve.
We see the portrait of Mary, our new mother, mother of the
Church. She has the kind of spiritual wisdom of someone who has suffered the
very worst of what humanity has to offer. But Mary is young and innocent, as
she is a woman of paradox, virgin and mother, sinless but saved. Mary’s
portrait is a mirror image of Adam and Eve. Instead of shame before God, Mary
sits innocently at prayer. Not hiding from God, Mary is fully present to her
Lord. She is not proud, though she alone has reason to boast; she is humble.
She does not deny God’s plan, but she accepts it. And God responds; in place of
curses and punishment, Mary receives benediction upon benediction and blessing.
She is able to be so holy because she was conceived
immaculately, protected from the first moment of her existence, surrounded as
with a shield, a halo of holiness. No corruption from the world could touch
her. She has been preserved from inheriting original sin, and by a singular
grace, she never fell into personal sin throughout her life. All this was given
her because God knew that she would say Yes, that Christ would be born, and
that Christ’s suffering on the Cross would earn for Mary the same merit that
brings us salvation.
How beautiful, our mother. She is the ideal disciple, the
perfect follower of Christ that we so deeply long to become. She SEES the
presence of God in everyone. She does what is right and good, having received
the infused virtues that make her capable of living the holiest of human lives.
She is at peace, in the Garden with her God.
She was preserved from sin so that her yes would mean yes.
So that when the angel announced to her the good news, she could say yes,
completely, absolutely, never wavering, never pulling back from the divine
embrace. Her Yes enables Christ to join the divine and human nature in his own
person.
This is poetry. Eve was born of Adam’s side, and the new
Adam is born of the womb of the new Eve. The Church then is born from the
wounded side of Christ on the cross, where blood and water flowed out. Mary is
mother of God, and Mary is the Church.
What of this Church? This church, the chapel we are in, is
cold, and half empty. The beautiful ikon of the Immaculate Conception is no
longer here, although her statue remains. The sacristy was emptied of chalices
and chasubles. Even the tabernacle was emptied during the summer when no one
lived here. They put up extra doors around the first floor of the building, to
keep people away. I’ve been through it, and the whole building is a mess; there
is debris and junk lying everywhere.
The building is a symbol of the Church in Belgium, the
Church in the US, and the Church in the whole western world. We are bruised and
shaken. We are reduced in prestige and influence. Due to the sins of our
members, especially the clergy and the hierarchy, good people easily doubt the
truth of the Church, which they once easily believed. We are threatened with
irrelevance, and the truth we teach goes unheeded. So many things have been
taken from us.
There is one thing that was not taken, however. They left
behind a blessing that is more original than the Eucharist. This blessing
hearkens back to the moments before God created the world. Silence remained
here, the sacred silence in which God dwells.
This church is like a wounded soldier taken from the
battlefield and allowed to rest in a hospital bed. In rest and silence, she
begins to heal. You and I are here again celebrating the Eucharist in this
chapel. A group of priests and lay students moved into the fifth floor. Slowly
this chapel is coming back to life.
This happens because it doesn’t ultimately depend on us.
There is nothing anyone on earth could ever do to destroy the Church. The Church
is indefectibly and unfailingly holy. No matter what sins are commited by her
members, the Church is holy, because God loves his spouse. God loves his bride,
and he has entrusted her with the great treasury of his truth and his
sacraments. God’s love and his gifts make us holy.
This is true of the Church, it is true of us. We disagree
with Luther and Calvin; we are not totally depraved. There is a part of us that
always and forever remains holy, immaculate, that no sin can destroy or
corrupt. That is the silence in our souls, the Holy of Holies, where God
dwells.
Let us thank God for holiness that does not depend on us.