BATHED IN LIGHT (Thoughts on Pope Leo XIV and Vocation)
Then suddenly he exclaimed, "white smoke!"
I ran to the television.
What a sight, what a sound, what utter joy on the faces of the people in
St. Peter's Square. It was electric!
White smoke billowing from the most watched chimney in the world. And
the family of seagulls on the roof beside it. The new-born chick almost symbolic
of what was taking place. Despite the abundance of seagulls in Hastings, I had
never seen such a young chick before. A first! New life!
I had tears in my eyes.
We were witnessing something quite unique, very special, a universal and
unifying joy.
A vocation unfolding before our eyes. Our common vocation. The vocation
of the one we were waiting for.
It is striking that this eruption of sustained joy took place BEFORE we
knew WHO had been chosen, indicating that our joy is not focused on the
personality of the Pope, but on the fact that the vacant office, the ministry
had been filled again, the calling heard and responded to.
Certainly, the man chosen matters but the gift of God transcends the
holder of the office.
This is important to me as I reflect on the meaning of Vocation on this
Good Shepherd Sunday.
The same principle applies to the Mass, the Eucharist which is the
centre of our Catholic life. Not the man celebrating the Mass, but the
Sacrament of Christ's Body and Blood is what matters. Though sadly much of our
attendance at Mass is focused on the priest.
Compare it to the table of a family. In one sense, it is the food on the table that matters more than who put it there.
I ponder the vocation of the elected Pope, the mystery of it. This
sacred gift that we celebrate so loudly, so correctly. This gift has its
beginnings in silence, the silent soul of the one chosen, in the Eternal
Silence of God. This is how and where every vocation begins, whatever that
vocation be.
Pope Leo XIV in his talk to the Cardinals the day after his election
said this; "God loves to communicate Himself, not in the roar of thunder
and earthquake but in the whispers of a gentle breeze (1 Kings 19;13) or as
some translate it a " sound of sheer silence.'
I am always drawn to the "sheer silence" translation because
it is in this way that, as a small boy, I heard God calling me to be who I am,
to become who I am now.
I felt it as a stirring in my heart at Mass, or in those troubled
ten-year-old days when, mitching from school, I would sit in the empty
Augustinian church gazing at the Tabernacle, knowing I was understood and at
the same time feeling a pull in my chest, something magnetic that made me want
to go to the Tabernacle, maybe even go into it.
Interesting that a fledgling vocation should be shaped in such a place
of childhood turmoil. A bold, naughty boy being prepared for something other,
like God was ploughing the soil of my heart.
And only now does the Augustinian connection come to me, in these days
of our Augustinian Holy Father. Among the Augustinians as an altar server, an
important part of my vocation took shape. Being in the Sanctuary, near to the
altar.
But it wasn't only in church that I heard the call. It also came to me
very powerfully alone by the sea in Aran - deep calling on deep, no speech, no
word, no voice. Jesus calling softly and tenderly saying, "come to me,
come home, come and see, come follow me." From before I entered my
Mother's womb. From all Eternity. "Love bade me welcome...quick-eyed Love
drew nearer to me sweetly..." (George Herbert)
This is the only vocation I know, the only one I can speak of with any
kind of authority.
Does not the heart burn within us as He accompanies and speaks to us. I
see it in a young man from the parish here who discerning his vocations. He
experiences such a sensation in his chest when he attends Mass. I bumped into
this lad on the street the other day, noting that he was carrying in his hand
St. Augustine's Confessions - "you have made us for yourself O Lord, and
our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee!"
I imagine there must be a restless kind of magnetism in a couple who are
called by God to marriage. God drawing two people to each other by the burning
in their hearts and in their bodies. Drawing them into one, drawing them to
Himself in a loving that is sacrificial and serving, other-centred and utterly
compelling.
This "oneness" brings me back to Pope Leo XIV who speaks of us
all being one in Christ - one body, one spirit as the Eucharistic Prayer says.
There is something quietly compelling about this man, quietly assured,
steady. And luminous. It's as if he is bathed in Light from within, a light
visible from without.
Lovely reflection Fr Eamonn, as always,
ReplyDeleteI too watched the seagull family on the roof as the white smoke encircled them!!! Such joy on the faces of the people present, from many corners of the globe, not all Catholics - but compelled to witness this great occasion. And - Pope Leo appeared - oh my - the roar that went up!! He looked a bit like JP2 - serene, smiling face + his first words - a reflection of the Lord himself after the Resurrection- Peace be with you!!! Marvellous to behold. God bless + protect him. J xx
Beautifully written, thought provoking and uplifting. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for capturing so beautifully such an incredible and hope filled moment. What you shared with us about silence was profound and reminded me of that saying: Silence is God's first language and everything else is a poor translation. Thank you Father.
ReplyDelete