Dominica
12 post Pentecosten
Evening, 6 August 2016 /
Church of St John the Evangelist
We know how
that sentence of death, engraved in writing upon stone, was promulgated to men
in a dazzling cloud, so that the people of Israel could not look Moses in the
face, for the brightness of it, although that brightness soon passed away. How
much more dazzling, then, must be the
brightness in
which the spiritual law is promulgated to them (1 Cor 3:7-8)!
There is an interesting liturgical
confluence before us, which is why I have taken this section of our epistle for
my text this evening. True, we are celebrating our Sunday liturgy; but earlier
today it was the feast of the Transfiguration: thus, images of dazzling clouds
and faces and light are fitting for us to meditate on, given these words from
St Paul to the Corinthians.
Here, St Paul is contrasting the Old
Law and the New. Recall that, when Moses returned from Mt Sinai, his face was
indeed dazzling in appearance after speaking with the Lord. We hear of this in
the book of Exodus:
Moses came down, after this, from Mount Sinai, bearing
with him the two tablets on which the law was written; and his face, although
he did not know it, was all radiant after the meeting at which he had held
speech with God. The sight of that radiance made Aaron and the sons of Israel
shrink from all near approach to him . . . . When he had finished speaking, he
put a veil over his face, which he laid aside when he went into the Lord’s
presence and had speech with him.[1]
But the law which Moses brought was
provisional and wanted fulfilling. St Paul would have us remember that, when
Christ was transfigured—also on the mountain—he did not need to veil himself,
because the new, perfecting law had arrived. Christ returned from his transfiguration
empty-handed. Why? Because he himself is the new law, the new “spiritual law,”
as St Paul has it. And so we have arrived at the central Catholic principle: the very person of Christ is the object and
source of life and sanctification.
This may not seem particularly
revolutionary to us; but comparatively speaking, it may be. Protestant
Christians tend to have a religion that is similar to that of Judaism, insofar
as they locate their focus on the Scriptures as the Jews do on the Law. Of
course, because they have chosen to reject the spiritual causality of the
Sacraments, they do not have much of a choice otherwise. On the other hand, we
know that with Christian truth there can be no sola scriptura because the transfigured Christ comes first; the Scriptures
bear witness to him.
All sound Catholic devotion will
always be directed to some aspect of Christ’s Sacred Humanity: he was made
flesh precisely for this reason. Think of the excellent devotion to the Sacred
Heart. The singular homage we pay to our Lady, too, is founded upon the Sacred
Humanity, since it is through her maternal fiat!
that Christ was born the God-man. In view of the mystery of the
Transfiguration, devotion to the Holy Face of Jesus is also of great power and
fittingness.
Like devotion to the Sacred Heart, spiritual
attention to the Holy Face of Christ is ancient in its origins; but in God’s
Providence, such devotions become prominent at certain times and seasons in the
Church’s life. We could never exhaust that history in so short a space. Suffice
it to say, the Middle Ages saw an increased focus on the Sacred Humanity of
Christ as it relates to the spiritual life. (By no means accidentally, public devotion
to the Holy Eucharist also begins intensify during this time as well; the
reasons are mutually related.) Since then, many saints have left us profound
meditations and prayers centered on the Holy Face. Of course, perhaps many of
us know about devotion to the Holy Face, quite rightfully, through St Thérèse
of Lisieux. She and her contemporaries saw in the Face of Christ an antidote to
the growing spirit of blasphemy and godlessness. Also like the Sacred Heart,
then, devotion to the Holy Face took on an aspect of loving reparation.
Devotion to the Holy Face is devotion
to glory. On the mountain with Peter, James, and John, Christ’s face, we are
told, became like the sun; his garments were dazzling like snow.[2] This was—for the Apostles
and for us—a preview and confirmation of the glory that is eternally his.
Devotion to the Holy face is also devotion to the Passion. For that very same
Face which was transfigured in glory would also be disfigured by the cruelty of
sin. The soul which contemplates the Holy Face sees both of these instances.
But if we recall the words of St Paul above, we are quickly returned to glory:
“How much more dazzling must be the brightness in which the spiritual law is
promulgated to them.”
If the Sacred Heart is about the
hidden aspects of Christ’s merciful care for men, the Holy Face is about the manifestation
of that mercy. We all understand a human face: it is the primary sign of our
personal identities. In that way, we can derive much consolation and help by
meditating on the face of Christ. In it, we find mercy and healing, strength
and companionship—in a word, we find
every grace that our Lord brings in his very person.
In the end, the Christian life is a
pursuit of the Face of Christ. The Israelites trembled in the presence of
Moses’ transfigured face; we adore in the presence of the Savior’s Holy Face.
And in the depth of prayer, whether we use these words or not, we are
constantly giving echo to Ps 26: “You have said, ‘Seek my face.’ My heart says
to you, ‘Your face, Lord, do I seek.’ Hide not your face from me.”[3]
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