Christ may reveal himself to us at a time when we least expect him to
do so. Saul met him on the way to Damascus and Simone Weil was overwhelmed by
Christ’s presence at Solesmes before she realised such a thing could ever
happen. There is an element of the unexpected in every self-communication of
God even though Christ’s promise prepares us for it. Love works with
surprises.
On the other hand, there are certain situations that seem to lend themselves more readily to channelling a Christ-experience to us. Some have been indicated by Christ himself or by the Gospels as being particularly favourable. Others can be deduced from the experience of saints and mystics. Knowing what these situations are may make us more sensitive to Christ’s presence If and when he decides to communicate with us through them.
In this chapter I will indicate seven such situations. Although all have their prototypes in the Gospel, they were selected mainly because of their relevance today. I am convinced that a special preparedness in these situations will make it easier for Christ to make himself heard.
Christ chided Jerusalem for not having recognised the time when God came to save it (Lk 19, 44). He also taught an appropriate parable.
“When you see a cloud coming up in the west, at once you say that it is going to rain - and it does and when you feel the south wind blowing, you say that it is going to get hot - and it does. Hypocrites! You can look at the earth and the sky and predict the weather; why, then, don’t you know the meaning of this present time ?” (Lk 12 54-56).
Let us ask Christ for the grace to recognise the moment when it is upon us. May he grant that we respond before it passes. May we, when it happens to us, see clearly that: “This is the hour to receive God’s favour; today is the day . . . ! ” (2 Cor 6, 2).
“Jesus came to a village where a woman named Martha welcomed him in her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat down at the feet of the Lord and listened to his teaching. Martha was upset over all the work she had to do, so she came and said, ‘Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her to come and help me!’
The Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha! You are worried and troubled over so many things, but just one is needed. Mary has chosen the right thing, and it will not be taken away from her’. ” (Lk 10, 38-42)
Mary’s devotion to Our Lord merited his special attention and love. If every day we take time off to remain silently in the presence of Christ, as I have explained in chapter twelve, this may well become a favourable occasion for Christ to show himself. Teresa of Avila, for example, found her daily ‘holy hour’ of solitary prayer the setting for most of her spiritual experiences. St John of the Cross is very outspoken in indicating this as the place where we meet Christ. When we are in solitude, God introduces us to divine things; through it he leads us to perfect rest and peace and joins us to himself in loving union. In solitary prayer we acquire the disposition of mind that makes us sensitive to the stirrings of the heavenly Spouse in our soul. Commenting on the Canticle of Canticles he says, “To accomplish so unusual a feat as uniting ourselves with our divine Lover, we have to go outside. Because we will not find him unless we are outside, alone, waiting in solitude.” (1) Although it is not the only occasion on which Christ manifests himself - John of the Cross too had other experiences - we may be sure that solitary prayer is an important and genuine situation that can lead to ‘disclosures’.
Sitting at Jesus’ feet, Mary listened with great admiration and her heart was filled with love. So we, too, should quietly sit in his presence, pondering his words and feeling in us a great desire to love him ever more. We should not be anxious to formulate or even to understand; we simply sit at his feet raising our eyes to him. our hearts filled with love.
“Lord, I look up to you,
up to heaven where you rule.
As a servant depends on his master,
as a maid depends on her mistress,
so we will keep looking to you, O Lord our God,
until you have mercy on us.” (Ps 123, 1-2)“Lord, I have given up my pride
and turned away from my arrogance.
I am not concerned with great matters
or with subjects too difficult for me.
Instead, I am content and at peace.
As a child lies quietly in its mother’s arms,
so my heart is quiet within me.” (Ps 131. 1-2)
In ways that are difficult to describe, Christ will make us know that he is with us, that he loves us. Christ, says St John of the Cross, is wounded by love when he finds a person waiting for him in solitude. He will certainly respond.
“Two of Jesus’ followers were going to a village named Emmaus, about eleven kilometres from Jerusalem, and they were talking to each other about all the things that had happened. As they talked and discussed, Jesus himself drew near and walked along with them; they saw him, but somehow did not recognise him......
He broke the bread and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognised him, but he disappeared from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Wasn’t it like a fire burning in us when he talked to us on the road and explained the Scriptures to us’.” (Lk 24, 13-16. 30-32)
In this sketch of the ‘journey’ of the two disciples, Luke gave an image of a christian’s everyday life. Luke loved the symbolic implication of journeys. He depicted Jesus’ Iife as a ‘going up to Jerusalem’ (Lk 9,51; 13,22; 17,11; 19,11: etc.) He characterised the expansion of the Early Church through the missionary journeys of St Paul in the Acts of the Apostles, he frequently called Christianity simply ‘the Way’ (Acts 9,2; 19,9; 19,23; 22,4; 24,14; etc.). The journey of the two disciples was, for Luke an image of the life christians lead after Jesus’ death and resurrection.
The Gospels portray many meetings with Jesus, most of them replete with symbolic meaning. (2) The specific aspect ot this meeting is Jesus’ presence as one of the disciples. He is not recognised until much later. While the disciples talk about Jesus, he is taking part in their conversation. He himself helps them understand Scripture and the words he spoke during his public life, He was in this way fulfilling his promise, “Where two or three come together in my name, I am there with them” (Mt 18, 20).
This is a situation which, I believe, is happening more frequently in our lives than we may be aware of. We may be visiting some friends, we may be travelling with someone in a car, we may be talking with others at lunch-break or attending an informal meeting. If we are speaking on matters concerning religion, if we open our hearts to one another and exchange our convictions and experiences, Christ will take part in that discussion. He may well speak to us through some of the things that are being said by others. His thoughts and ideas may be expressed in a new and meaningful fashion by one of our companions.
There need be nothing dramatic or spectacular about this. it may have little in common with shared prayer or the kind of charismatic meeting that shakes a place to its foundations (Acts 4, 31). Instead, the setting may well be a small kitchen littered with the usual after-breakfast debris, a corner in a double-decker bus or a four-seat table in a self-service canteen. It may be just as plain and every-day as the cobble-stoned road from Jerusalem to Emmaus.
“God seems to have an instinct for revealing himself in what is most common. In the ordinary and undramatic dimensions of reality God lies hidden but in a way which allows his presence to burst through. Perhaps the very humility and simplicity of what is ordinary calms our complex fears and need for assurance, perhaps the very prosaic nature of what is common serves to still our soul, makes us feel that we are on familiar ground and thus allows God to be manifest.” (3)
Yet within this ordinary situation Christ may speak. We can recognise his presence when we feel ‘a fire burning in us when he talks’ (Lk 24, 32). if we learn to listen with our hearts. we can be aware of the moment when it happens. We know then that beyond the immediate persons surrounding us-or rather, through these persons-we are face to face with Christ himself. The realisation will fill us with awe and love. It will help us respond to Christ with new fervour.
“A man suffering from a dreaded skin disease came to Jesus, knelt down, and begged him for help. ‘If you want to’, he said, ‘you can make me clean’. Jesus was filled with pity, and stretched out his hand and touched him. ‘I do want to’, he answered, ‘be clean’! At once the disease left the man and he was clean.” (Mk 1, 40-42)
The leper referred to in this episode was, perhaps, a religious man. For many years he must have prayed that God might heal him; but nothing happened. It needed the touch of Jesus’ hand to restore him to health. Only by kneeling down in front of Jesus, by humbling himself to this carpenter from Nazareth. did he receive his cure.
In the Church today the power of ‘healing’ is being rediscovered. There are reports of extraordinary happenings: dramatic cures of bodily illnesses. healings of psychological scars, transformations of character following on real conversion. Much of this takes place in the wake of the so-called charismatic movement. (4) Undoubtedly we are rediscovering here an experience that was present in early christianity. Those who have experienced God’s healing in this way, know they have been touched by his hand.
But, again, we need not seek the event of ‘healing’ only in such an unusual and, at times, emotional setting. Christ gave expression to his power of healing in the sacraments of Confession and the Anointing of the Sick. Christ knew we are in need of a mediator, a person who is sacramentally visible and who can act in his name. Unaided, we cannot rid ourselves of our inadequacies, our sins and imperfections. We require the direction of a spiritual guide and the authority of a priest who can forgive in Jesus’ name.
It is not easy to accept the necessity of this mediation. It goes against our human nature to kneel before another person and ask for his help. Yet, the willingness to do this, entrusting ourselves to the judgment of a person deputed by Christ, is required as a condition. We have to be like Bartimaeus, the blind man, who had such confidence in Jesus that he threw off his cloak and let it lie when making his way to Jesus (Mk 10, 50). If we have such faith, God will certainly heal us through our spiritual director and confessor.
If we are open to the Spirit, we will know that Christ himself is acting upon us through his priest. “Whoever listens to you listens to me” (Lk 10,16). “What you permit on earth will be permitted in heaven” (Mt 18, 18). “If you forgive people’s sins, they are forgiven” (Jn 20, 23). When the priest speaks the words of absolution, we shall feel the marvellous touch of Jesus’ hand. We shall be filled with relief and joy and a deep sense of gratitude that springs from love. We shall realise then what Jesus meant when he said about the sinful woman, “I tell you, the great love she has shown proves that her many sins have been forgiven. But whoever has been forgiven little shows only a little love” (Lk 7, 47). When he heals us he pours his love into our hearts (Rom 5, 5).
“lt was about twelve o’clock when the sun stopped shining and darkness covered the whole country until three o’clock. And the curtain hanging in the temple was torn in two Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Father! In your hands I place my spirit!’ He said this and died.”(Lk 23. 44-46)
Suspended from the cross, Jesus prayed to his Father. His prayer ranged from ordinary human despair - “My God. my God, why did you abandon me?“ (Mt 27, 46) - to surrender in trust: “Father! In your hands I place my spirit!” (Lk 23, 46). The cries of Jesus from the cross reflect another aspect of our human life: our experience of God in suffering.
It almost seems a contradiction in terms, but God may be closer to us when he seems to abandon us. The validity of this assertion is confirmed by those who have gone through the experience in a special way. Walter J. Ciszek was a Polish priest who was captured by the Russians during World War II and subjected to torture and imprisonment for 23 years. He recalls the despair he endured during the interrogations in Lubianka prison.
“One day the blackness closed in around me completely. Perhaps it was brought on by exhaustion, but I reached the point of despair. I was overwhelmed by the hopelessness of my situation. I knew that I was approaching the end of my ability. I could see no way out of it. Yes, I despaired in the most literal sense of the word: I lost all sense of hope.“
In the depth of his suffering he turned to God and pleaded for special help. During this prayer the thought of our Lord’s agony in the garden suddenly brought him new hope and strength. The fact that Jesus, too, had known the feeling of fear and weakness in his human nature filled him with a new sense of love. Jesus’ submission to the will of his Father invited him to a similar, total self-surrender.
“What a wonderfuI treasure and source of strength and consolation our Lord’s agony in the garden became for me from that moment on. I saw clearly what I must do. I can only call it a conversion experience, and I can only tell you frankly that my life was changed from that moment on. If my moment of despair had been a moment of total blackness, then this was an experience of blinding light. I knew immediately what I must do, what I would do, and somehow I knew that I could do it. I knew that I must abandon myself entirely to the will of the Father and live from now on . in this spirit of self-abandonment to God. And I did it. I can only describe the experience as a sense of ‘letting go’, giving over totally my last effort or even any will to guide the range of my own life. It is all too simply said, yet that one decision has affected every subsequent moment of my life. I have to call it a conversion.” (5)
Simone Weil is another contemporary of ours who has left a valuable testimony on this matter. Being constantly plagued by severe headaches and subject to violent depressions, she went through a great deal of suffering. In the course of time she came to understand that, by a strange paradox, affliction itself can unite us to the love of God. She explains this with an image taken from the crucifixion.
“Extreme affliction, which means physical pain, distress of soul and social degradation, all at the same time, constitutes the nail. The point is applied at the very centre of the soul. The head of the nail is all the necessity which spreads throughout the totality of space and time. Affliction is a marvel of divine technique. It is a simple and ingenious device which introduces into the soul of a finite creature the immensity of force, blind, brutal and cold. The infinite distance which separates God from the creature is entirely concentrated into one point to pierce the soul in its centre....
He whose soul remains ever turned in the direction of God while the nail pierces it, finds himself nailed on to the very centre of the universe. It is the true centre, it is not in the middle, it is beyond space and time, it is God. In a dimension which does not belong to space, which is not time, which is indeed quite a different dimension, the nail has pierced a hole through all creation, through the thickness of the screen which separates the soul from God. In this marvellous dimension, the soul, without leaving the place and the instant where the body to which it is united is situated, can cross the totality of space and time and come into the very presence of God. It is at the intersection of creation and its Creator. This point of intersection is the point of intersection of the branches of the Cross. St Paul was perhaps thinking aboutthings of this kind when he said: ‘That you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all saints what is the breadth, and length, and depth, and height; and to know the love of Christ, which surpasses knowledge’.” (6)
It is not without reason that Christ travelled the human way of fear, humiliation, physical pain and death. When such experiences happen in our lives, they may become instruments of union with Christ. If from the depth of our affliction we cry out to him, if we stretch out our arms in despair, he will certainly reach down and comfort us in a tangible manner, He will gradually give us the strength and the peace of mind to carry our cross with love. “We also boast of our troubles, because we know that trouble produces endurance, endurance brings God’s approval, and his approval creates hope, This hope does not disappoint us, for God has poured out his love into our hearts by means of the Holy Spirit, who is God’s gift to us“ (Rom 5, 3-5).
“Jesus rose from the table, took off his outer garment, and tied a towel round his waist. Then he poured some water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and dried them with the towel round his waist.... After Jesus had washed their feet, he put his outer garment back on and returned to his place at the table. ‘Do you understand what I have just done to you ?’ he asked “ (Jn 13,4-5.12)
The disciples’ feet were dirty, The hot weather, the dusty roads and their open sandals had made their feet black with sweat and filth. Before they could sit back and stretch themselves comfortably on the couches provided for the meal, their feet needed to be washed. Someone had to perform this service. Jesus decided to do it himself, Notwithstanding his status as ‘rabbi’ and his own tiredness, he took upon himself the laborious and humiliating task, In doing so, he set an example of selfless love.
It is interesting to note that converts in India have stated that they were attracted to christianity most of all through the loving service rendered by priests and religious. It was not the intellectual superiority of christian doctrine that fascinated them, but the mystery of a person ‘wasting’ his life to be of use to others. They did not understand at first why people from another country should come and bother about the outcasts, the poor, the hungry in their own villages. They saw in admiration how religious sisters gave themselves totally to the care of the old, the incurably diseased, the orphans and the handicapped. It only made sense to them when they discovered it was love; and in that love they recognised the love of Christ. for many Hindus, even for those who would not dream of becoming christians, a person like Mother Theresa of Calcutta is a manifestation of God’s love
Christ said, “If you have love for one another, then everyone will know that you are my disciples” (Jn 13, 35). We, too, do come across this selfless love in other people. It may take a variety of forms. A girl may take a demanding job and work overtime to pay for the college studies of her younger brother, A man may spend his whole life looking after a bedridden wife who was crippled in an accident, he may do it joyfully so that she never discovers what it costs him. A young man turns his back on a promising career in his father’s business to join a religious society. Some people are extremely generous and are always ready to help those in trouble. Even granted that much of people’s ‘charity’ springs from mixed motives, we find plenty of examples of genuine ‘footwashing’ if we have the eyes to see them.
When we witness such unselfish iove, this may well become for us a “disclosure” situation. This will all the more be so when we ourselves are the beneficiaries of such love. In the people who are kind to us, who serve us at their own expense, who wash our feet not because they have to do so but only because they love us - in such people we meet Christ.
“Jesus looked up to heaven and said, ‘Father, the hour has come. Give glory to your Son, so that the Son may give glory to you. For you gave him authority over all mankind, so that he might give eternal life to all those you gave him. And eternal life means knowing you, the only true God, and knowing Jesus Christ whom you sent. I have shown your glory on earth I have finished the work vou gave me to do. Father ! give me glory in your presence now, the same glory I had with you before the world was made’.” (Jn 17,1-6)
At the Last Supper Christ had formed his disciples into an intimate community. He spoke to them of the mutual love they should have for one another. He prayed for them in very personal words. He commanded them to break the bread together in his name. As C. H. Dodd has rightly pointed out, in John 13-17 Christ was not only talking about his future coming and his future eucharistic presence; the friendly gathering, with the disciples, his prayer at the breaking of the bread already brought about his presence in an anticipated way. Here we find a complete model of Jesus’ eucharistic presence. (7)
Jesus’ long discussion with his disciples, the institution of the Eucharist, and his highpriestly prayer, form together the inspired model of Holy Mass. The over-riding theme of Jesus’ words and actions is: unity. It was Jesus’ purpose to show us how we can be one with himself and one with the Father. What will happen to Jesus’ disciples when he has ascended to heaven? Jesus’ answer is: “Come together in my name, break the bread and drink the chalice in commemoration of me. Then I will be united with you.“
A Eucharistic celebration sacramentalizes Jesus’ Presence. He comes to us not only under the visual signs of bread and wine, in the symbolic separation of his body and blood. Jesus reveals himself through the event itself through the group of disciples that re-live the mysteries of his passion and resurrection in his memory. Jesus shows himself through the common concern, the love of the group.
C. Traets maintains that this is the way in which we have to understand Jesus’ promise: “I will reveal myself to you” (Jn 14,20). In his view, Jesus’ return and Jesus’ presence among the disciples can be seen because Jesus’ love can be seen at work in them. When looking at their brothers and sisters, the disciples perceive Jesus and the Father. It is an indirect perception, but a real one, says Traets, which has as its immediate object the ecclesial love experienced by the community. (8)
In the Catholic tradition of the past centuries great weight has been attached to the signs of bread and wine. In reaction to certain trends of the Reformation, the real presence of Christ under these symbols was stressed. In the life of prayer, expression was given to this belief in a great devotion to the personal reception of Holy Communion, in the encouragement of visits to the Blessed Sacrament and in the para-liturgical functions in honour of the exposed sacramental sign. The kernel of what was being reaffirmed through these beliefs and practices was no doubt, of great value. Jesus’ real sacramental presence under the sacred species remains an inalienable part of the eucharistic mystery.
But we may legitimately ask if this was all Jesus meant to do through the Eucharist, if this is a complete understanding of the eucharistic manifestation? After all, by themselves the bread and the wine cannot signify Jesus’ presence. No visible change takes place in either of them in the course of their consecration. The consecrated species of bread and wine can only be recognized as such because they remain at the centre of the liturgical activity of the community.
The two disciples at Emmaus recognised Jesus ‘at the breaking of the bread’ (Lk 24,31.35). Christ will manifest himself to us, too, if we open our eyes to the full symbolism of the eucharistic celebration. We meet him in so many ways: in his word, in his priest, in his sacramental body and blood, in the ‘church’ of his followers. If he is present anywhere in our lives, he is present here in this sharing of prayers and symbols, celebrated in his memory.
“Six days later Jesus took with him Peter and the brothers, James and John, and led them up a high mountain where they were alone. As they looked on, a change came over Jesus: his face was shining like the sun, and his clothes were dazzling white. Then the three disciples saw Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. So Peter spoke up and said to Jesus, ‘Lord how good it is that we are here!’” (Mt 17,1-4)
The three apostles saw Jesus transfigured. They had what we would call today a ‘peak experience’. For a short while they saw Jesus radiant with divine glory. To give them this vision of himself, Jesus took them to a secluded and carefully chosen place, the top of a high mountain. Jesus did not manifest himself in this way while he was sharing his daily food with them, while curing the sick in Capernaum, or while mingling with the crowds in the temple at Jerusalem. To reveal his radiance to them in this particular way, Jesus had to take them away from their everyday relationships and daily routine.
Contemplation requires withdrawal. Throughout the history of the Church there have been men and women who have sought to meet Christ in a more intimate way by a life lived in solitude and silence. The old contemplative orders flourish in our own days and new communities are springing up. Herbert Slade reports on a new Anglican initiative at the Anchorhold, Haywards Heath. This community has taken the mystery of the Transfiguration as its model of how a life of contemplation should be lived. 99)
Not all of us can join a contemplative order, but - as I explained in chapter twelve - we can withdraw from everyday life bv making a retreat. Such retreats have often proved an ideal setting for a deeper experience of God. Both Moses and Elijah saw God only after a forty days’ fast. Ignatius of Loyola was converted during a prolonged illness that forced him to re-appraise his life. Many persons have found God in ‘the desert’. (10) God’s words in Hosea may well be addressed to us: “I am going to take you into the desert; there I will win you back with words of love” (cf. Hos 2, 14).
I feel that my description of the various ‘moments’ when Christ may reveal himself, lacks their most important ingredient, namely, the experience itself. Since this is a very personal thing, an intimate recognition, a meeting of love, it cannot be described. Provided we have the right disposition, Christ himself will step in and thereby change the whole situation into something living and unspeakable.
Wanting to see Christ is not a desire we have conceived, not an initiative we have taken. Christ promised he would reveal himself. It is he who is anxious to enter our lives in a visible manner. But, respecting our freedom, he wants us to remove first the obstacles we put in his way. Christ may well repeat to us what he said to the bishop of Laodicea: “You say, ‘I am rich and well off; I have all I need.’ But you do not know how miserable and pitiful you are! You are poor, naked and blind” (Rev 3,17). After telling us that he rebukes us because he loves us, and advising us to put ointment on our eyes so that we may see, he gives us this wonderful assurance:
“Listen!
I stand at the door and knock;
If anyone hears my voice and opens the door,
I will come into his house
and eat with him,
and he will eat with me.” (Rev 3,20)
1. Dark Night of the Soul, BK 2, ch. 7,14; Spiritual Canticle, stropha 34; ed. P. NAZARENO, Opera dl S. Giovanni della Croce, Postulazio Carmelitani, Roma 1969, pp. 478, 745-746
2. Cf. A. STEINER and V. WEYMANN - Jesus Begegnungen, Reinhardt Verlag, Basel 1978.
3. F. MARTIN - Touching God, Dimension Books, Denville 1975, p. 88.
4. Cf. F. MACNUTT - The Power to Heal, Ave Maria Press, Notro Dame, 1977.
5. W. J. CISZEK - He Leadeth Me, Doubleday Image Book, Garden City 1976, pp. 86-88.
6. S. WEIL - ‘The Love of God and Affliction’. Waiting on God, Fontana 1959, pp. 93-94.
7. C. H. DODD - The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, Cambridge University Press 1963, pp. 418-423.
8. C. TRAETS - Voir Jésus et le Père en Lui selon 1’Évangile de Saint Jean. Universitas Gregoriana, Rome 1967, pp. 181-182; cf. G. HIBBERT, John, Sheed and Ward, London 1972, p. 137.
9. H. SLADE - Exploration into Contemplative prayer, Darton, Longman and Todd, London 1975.
10. Two excellent, contemporary reports on desert experiences are: C. CARRETTO, In Search of the Beyond, Darton, Longman and Todd, London 1975; H. J. M. NOUWEN, The Genesee Diary, Doubleday, Garden City, 1976.