This time last year I would never have thought that some event could happen across the world that would prevent me from being able to worship in my parish church. I was content to pray at home in the early weeks of COVID, and I watched mass on the internet. God inhabited my praises and my meditations. It was good. God did not leave me bereft.
But when I could again attend mass, tears came…and came…and came. Even now, six months later, something tender is touched when I enter church, ready to worship. Something rises up in me when I hear the Gloria: I soar with praise. Yet I also hunger to sing full throttle instead of softly to myself. Rarely do I get through a mass without tears coming again.
What are those tears? They are not exactly tears of mourning. There is an element of grief. I long to have mass and community like it used to be. I want to sing, for I worship best when I’m singing. I want to visit in the Gathering Area before and after mass. I want all the rows to have people in them—sitting side by side. I want to take communion after mass to my Carebound friends.
But, there is also something that has changed in me. Those tears are also tears of tenderness, gratitude, and joy. It is so good to be there. I am more deeply aware of mass. Our pastor, musicians, and deacons have created reverence, beauty, and a sense of awe in this time of quiet distance. It is perhaps even easier to worship than before. I notice that especially at the school masses. Kids worship better when there is some distance between them!
Some days I worship better, too. God’s Word rings in my soul like a hammer on steel. The craziness of the world makes me yearn for what God has to say to me today through Scripture and homily. Sometimes, it seems like the stresses of life have put me on a spiritual diet, so, when I get a chance to hear God’s Word proclaimed at church, I listen like I’m starving. While I have loved the Bible since childhood, some days the word “insatiable” is how I feel when I hear Scripture read and preached.
The canon of the mass remains a rock of faith. It is no different. “This is My Body.” “This is My Blood.” The words of the Eucharistic prayers give me stability. Eucharistic Prayer I, II, III, or IV—all are beautiful. Through all of them God comes as he has come through the centuries.
Yes, God comes. God comes to be with His people. Here, at Good Shepherd, in Frankfort, Kentucky. There, at St. Meinrad, my Oblate home in Indiana, which I miss so much. And here and there and there and here all over the world. Thousands and thousands and thousands of times EVERY DAY God comes to be with His people. God comes to enter His people. God comes to make us His Presence walking and talking and living in the world. God comes.
St. John Lateran
Today is the Feast of St. John Lateran, the cathedral church of Rome. The Church of St. John Lateran, honoring both St. John the Baptist and St. John the Evangelist, was commissioned by the Roman Emperor Constantine when he made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire. It was dedicated in 324. It is the basilica where Pope Francis sits as Bishop of Rome. By honoring it, we honor all our churches—and the fact that we worship together as people in “houses of God.”
Our Readings Today
All three of our readings today talk about the “house of God.” The Old Testament reading from Ezekiel is the second part of a vision God gave Ezekiel about the return of the exiles from Babylon and their subsequent rebuilding of the temple. In the first part of the vision, Ezekiel sees a tiny trickle flowing from the right side of the temple. The further it goes, the deeper and wider it gets, until it becomes a mighty river. In this summary selection of verses from the end of the vision, Ezekiel is given to understand that as the Hebrews return to Jerusalem and rebuild the temple, every goodness will be given to them—and that the temple will become a source of goodness for all the world.
In the second reading, Paul reminds the Corinthians that through Christ each and every one of them becomes a temple of the Holy Spirit. God came to them, as he comes to us, to live within us when we are baptized. God comes at every mass, at every Sacrament, to claim and fill us again.
This is a comforting Scripture, as the dangers of COVID continue to keep many people from church. I have a number of friends, who, because of their own physical fragility or those of family members, do not go out. They don’t go to church or into a store or anywhere. They continue to feel a great longing for the Lord and His house.
But God does remain in His people. Our pastor has continued to hear confessions by appointment throughout this COVID crisis, so people can remain temples of an active Holy Spirit. There is no need for sin to block the efficacy of God in any of us. In that sense, the reading from Paul is very encouraging and comforting.
In another sense, it challenges me today. How active am I in being a “temple of the Holy Spirit” going out to reach those who cannot be here–on the phone, via email, as a dropper of packages or doer of errands? I must admit that through the months I have become less focused on those who are not at church than I was in the beginning of COVID. My time has filled up with a return to work as a therapist and with needs of grandchildren and family. I cannot take the Eucharist visiting, but I can still go to church and receive it, and that has dulled my conscience more than a little from focusing on my Carebound friends who remain temples of the Holy Spirit, but without regular sacramental nurturing of that Spirit.
Today’s Gospel
The story of Jesus driving out the money-changers from the temple is in two places in the Gospels. Today’s description is from the Gospel of John. John has it happen soon after Jesus’ baptism in the beginning of his ministry. The other description is in Matthew 21. In it, cleansing the temple was what Jesus did right after his triumphal entry into Jerusalem at the beginning of Holy Week.
This story, too, gives me cause to pause. The holiness of God’s house was clearly very important to Jesus. Even though he was the Presence of God and his death ripped the curtain of the sanctuary of the temple in two, he honored and attended God’s house.
In Conclusion
The picture today is a picture of Pope Francis blessing an empty St. Peter’s Square last Holy Week. There are those who worry people will not return to church after so long an absence. Tears come again. How can I—can all of us—live as temples of the Holy Spirit so that, when COVID is over, God’s houses are filled with worshipers who are both hungry and grateful?
Prayer:
Lord, let zeal for Your house consume me and guide me. Thank You for making Your Home in my community a house of prayer, and for coming to live in me through sacraments and prayer. May awareness of those great gifts always give me tender tears, a tender conscience, a tender witness, and tender joy.
