What are you willing to do to get to the house of the Lord? And how bright are your eyes when you get there? How fresh are your ears? With the daily readings, I often find it interesting and instructive to let the Spirit guide me to see how the passages reflect and build off each other. The readings for this day are especially fun.
Today’s responsorial psalm – from Psalm 122 – is a pilgrim’s prayer for Jerusalem: Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. Look at those first lines:
I rejoiced because they said to me,
“We will go up to the house of the LORD.”
And now we have set foot
within your gates, O Jerusalem.
When has anyone you know said, “I’m totally excited because someone said we were going to church . . . and now we’re here!” When have you last felt that way? I admit that even when I’m happy to be at Mass – which is often – I’m seldom elated in my heart. Maybe I should be. The pilgrim in Psalm 122 is overjoyed to get to go to Jerusalem; he’s delighted to extol the virtues of what he’s seeing and feeling.
Perhaps one gulf between what I feel and what the pilgrim feels is the relative ease with which I can get to church. Back in the time of the Psalms, a pilgrimage was a major undertaking, not for the faint of heart – a memorable time in one’s life. In contrast, for me to get to church only takes about eight minutes; I scarcely have time to feel the joy of anticipation, the elation of an initial visit. Where is my hardship that makes my own “pilgrimage” to the house of the Lord worthwhile?
The first reading from the Acts of the Apostles approaches that idea from another – unexpected – angle. The early Church struggled with an interesting question: Did someone new to the life of Christ need to be circumcised (and thus adhere to Jewish law and tradition) before becoming a Christian?
I like reading between the lines here and realizing what’s not there. There’s no indication that being circumcised was a deal-breaker; it seems that some folks were apprehensive about the idea (which is understandable), but there doesn’t seem to be anyone saying, “Well, I’m not becoming a Christian if it means I need to be circumcised.” Thus it’d be reasonable to assume that new converts were at least willing to do so, if need be.
If early Christians were open to the possibility of adult circumcision to enter the house of the Lord, what does it say about those of us who have a hard time mustering the motivation if it’s down-pouring? If we’re on vacation? If the parking lot is too full? Those early adherents to the teachings of Christ were made of sterner stuff that I would do well to aspire to.
One way to inspire a sense of wonder and rejoicing is to imagine Mass as a rare lifetime opportunity . . . like a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, or an opportunity to hear Christ speak. Imagine you’re his disciple in the Gospel reading today, hearing him for the first time: “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. He takes away every branch in me that does not bear fruit,
and everyone that does he prunes so that it bears more fruit. You are already pruned because of the word that I spoke to you. Remain in me, as I remain in you.”
Imagine Jesus is speaking to you directly . . . because he is. You are already ready to bear more fruit, because of the word that Christ has spoken to you. Christ is asking you – you, directly – to remain in him, as he remains in you. How exciting! How wondrous!
The chance to have a personal, real, tangible encounter with Christ is open to us whenever we enter the house of the Lord. How could we not rejoice in that? How could we not be eager to endure any sacrifice to make that happen?
Let your heart skip the same beats of the excited pilgrim; feel the smile in the words: Let us go rejoicing to the house of the Lord. Jesus is waiting; let us go . . . rejoicing!
