September-October 2008

On June 22, at the closing Mass of the 49th International Eucharistic Congress in Quebec City, Canada, Pope Benedict, in a homily transmitted by satellite, announced that the next congress would be in Dublin, my native city, in 2012. The Congress held there in 1932 was an experience my father, then 19, spoke about for the rest of his life. Maybe it was what led him to attend Mass every day until the day he died.

I came across a description of the closing Mass of the Dublin Congress from The Irish Times, which at the time was a newspaper read mostly by Protestants: It was at that moment of the Elevation of the Host, the supreme point in Catholic ritual, that one fully realized the common mind that swallowed up all individuality in the immense throng. Flung together in their hundreds of thousands, like the sands on the seashore, these people were merely parts of a great organism which was performing a great act of faith, with no more ego in them than the sands themselves.

Bishop Luis Antonio C. Tagle of Imus gave a beautiful example of that total lack of ego at the Quebec Congress (http://www.zenit.org/article-22964?l=english ): I visited a poor section of a parish that opened a feeding program for malnourished children. The parents were required to supervise the meal of their children. As I went around the crowded noisy hall, a teenage girl who was gently feeding a young boy caught my attention. She must be his elder sister, I thought to myself. I approached them and asked where their mother was. She was looking for a job that day, I was told. So she sent her teenage daughter to feed the boy.

Thinking that she must be as hungry as her brother, I asked, ‘Have you eaten?’ ‘No,’ she said, ‘I am not part of the program. I am already thirteen.’ I was surprised at her honesty. For hungry children, this was an opportunity to cheat in order to fill their stomach. But she remained honest. I responded, ‘I will instruct a volunteer to give you lunch, if some food is left after all the children have eaten.’ Thankful but embarrassed she said, ‘No, Bishop. There are many other hungry children in this village. Give the extra food to them.’ I was drawn into deep silence. ‘My God, my God, why are these children going hungry?’ I prayed. Yet I also exclaimed, ‘I did not expect to see sharing and integrity in this place of death. Truly these are innocent children of God. There is hope for the world.’

Surely that girl is a soul-sister of Ann, later Sister Veronica, in Father Baier’s touching article, That Sister of Mine.

Much of Bishop Tagle’s talk was a reflection on the ‘adoration’ of the centurion at the foot of the Cross who concluded, ‘This man is innocent’ (Lk 23:47), and ‘Truly, this is the Son of God’ (Mt 27:54; Mk 15:39). The bishop ended his talk with these words: In Eucharistic adoration, let us join the centurion in watching over Jesus and see what he has seen. Let us cringe in horror at the sight of destructive evil. Let us marvel at the reality of spotless love, of pure sacrifice and worship. I wish that Eucharistic adoration would lead us to know Jesus more as the compassionate companion of many crucified peoples of today. Let us spend time too with the multitudes of innocent victims of our time.

We might be able to touch Jesus who knows their tears and pain for he has made them his own and has changed them into hope and love. Watching over our suffering neighbors, we could be changed like the centurion into discerners of truth and heralds of faith. And hopefully when people behold how we bear others’ crosses in love, they too would see the face of innocence and the Son of God in us. Let us adore Jesus who offered his life as a gift to the Father for us sinners. Let us adore him for ourselves, for the poor, for the earth, for the Church and for the life of the world.