I wrote this for the local paper a couple of weeks ago. In rereading it, I decided it should go here too.
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Two coinciding events have served as points of reflection
for me over the last couple of weeks. First,
at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart, we have nearly finished a project in which we
have replaced our pews and flooring.
Both were necessary simply from the perspective of standard building
maintenance. Both were desirable
inasmuch as these new pews and flooring are more beautiful than what we had
previously. Second, I presided over a
wedding at the parish of St. John Cantius in Chicago. I do not exaggerate to suggest that it is one
of the most beautiful churches I have seen on this side of the Atlantic
Ocean. The building, completed in 1889,
is the fruit of the sacrifice and dedication of Polish immigrants. Upon arrival in Chicago, before building their
own homes or schools, they built their church.
As typical in the baroque style, the Church is filled with arches,
magnificent stained glass, and a gorgeous high altar. The main aisle is wood inlaid with various
Christian symbols. Thick wooden doors separate
the nave from the vestibule. Everything
is covered in gold.
Why? Is such grandeur
necessary? Should it be done? These are, in part, questions about which
Catholics and various groups of Protestants have disagreed for centuries. To my mind, however, beauty is an essential
element in Christian worship. The Polish
immigrants who built St. John Cantius and the Catholics who helped refloor our
Church here in Martin did not do so because a vain and avenging God demanded as
much. Rather, moved by the knowledge
that God gave his life for the sake of man’s salvation, and inspired by his
infinite love and mercy, these people desired to offer something in
return. They wanted to give something
back to God as a demonstration of their own love and gratitude for him. They knew, of course, that no human
construction would ever be enough to repay the debt of gratitude owed to the
Lord. But they gave anyway,
acknowledging that when we live lives in which all good things come to us as
gift, we must give in return.
This sentiment should motivate our worship each day. The way we dress, the way we speak, the way
we sing, even our attentiveness to the Scriptures and to the sermon are ways in
which we offer a little back to the Lord.
It is not as though we are doing any of these things to earn his
love. They are, instead, responses to
his love. At issue is not whether God
will love or accept us. Of course he
will! He will love us even if we don’t
dress well, if we don’t sing, or if we don’t participate. At stake is what we do in response to God’s
love. An analogy helps demonstrate my
point:
A small child will bring a bouquet of freshly picked and
slightly crushed dandelions to his mother as a spontaneous response to the love
he receives from her. His mother’s life
is little improved by a gift of a fistful of weeds, but she recognizes the love
that motivates the gesture. The child
fulfills a need of his own to reciprocate the love he receives from his mother. The mother loves him no less if he doesn’t
bring her flowers, but she does appreciate the gesture. With God it is the same. Psalm 116 asks, “How can I make a return to
the Lord for all he done for me?” In
short, we can give nothing that is commensurate with what we have
received. But that should not stop us
from trying.
