Today’s question is a very personal one: Is there something you wish you could do that you have absolutely no talent or skill to do? Is there some activity in which you are a real klutz? I have one which I am reluctant to admit. It’s this: I cannot sing. Sometimes I’ve laughed it off by saying: “If I’m perfect at anything, I’m a perfect monotone.” You may not think an inability to sing is very traumatic, but I assure you it is.
It started way back in elementary school. At that time, children’s musicals were popular. Back then, I usually was given the lead part. The reason was: I was the only boy who would take the time to memorize all of the lines. But since the teachers said I could not carry a tune, I had to recite all of my lines like poetry. When it came time to sing as part of the chorus, I was instructed to mouth the words and not utter a sound. In junior high, when everyone had to take a class in choral singing, I was excused from taking it. As a result of all of this, I never sang in high school or college.
Back then, going to church wasn’t too traumatic an experience for me. Thirty years ago, Catholics weren’t expected to sing at Mass. But then came Vatican II and a change in the liturgy. To make matters worse, my wife has a very lovely voice. Some of you have heard her sing. Many of you have also heard our older son’s voice. He sometimes is part of the music ministry. (He’s the tall guy with the mustache.) With both Karen and Ken standing next to me at Mass, I always felt very intimidated. I refused to make a fool of myself and so would stand there determined not to open my mouth.
Why am I telling you this? Because I wanted to start today’s homily with a particular song, but there is no way I could to that myself. So, what I would like to do is invite one of the cantors to come to the microphone and do it for me. (I haven’t told them about any of this ahead of time. Surprises can be good for musicians, too.) The rest of you who aren’t like me, can sing along with our cantor. I’d like all of you who know the words to join in. It’s only one verse. The song is an old one. The words go back to the 1600’s. It’s “Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”
“Praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Praise him, all creatures here below. Praise him above, ye heav’nly host. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”
Very good. Do you know what else that song is called? Yes, it’s also called “the doxology.” The word “doxology” comes from the Greek word, doxa, which means “glory.” And that’s why I wanted to begin this reflection with a “doxology.”
The focus for today’s homily is on the meaning of glory, of giving glory to God, of being glorified. The word “glory” or “glorified” appears six times in today’s Gospel reading from John and three times in the Second Reading taken from a Letter from Peter. So, today, I’d like for us to think for a few minutes about glory.
I believe in our modern society we have lost our cultural sense of what glory is all about. Glory deals, in a way, with pomp and circumstance, with a sense of celebration of victory. At this time of the year, we are reminded of what glory meant to the people of the Middle Ages when we attend a graduation exercise, especially a college graduation.
How do you feel when you hear the processional music and see the students and faculty march into the auditorium wearing their academic gowns? The robes and colored hoods worn by the professors date directly back to the thirteenth and fourteen century when universities were established in Europe. The sense of glory goes back even farther than the Middle Ages, back to the time of Rome with its triumphal marches of victors with their captured armies and war booty brought back for all to see.
Back to the Hebrews of the time of Jesus. Their word for glory was related directly to God, rather than to human victors. The Hebrew word for glory was associated with the thunder and lightning of Mount Sinai when God appeared to Moses. It meant the brightness of the God who could not be seen by mortals except in this shining radiance. Can you feel some of the sense of that kind of glory when you hear the words of Jesus in the Gospel of John: “Father, the hour has come! Give glory to your son, that your son may give glory to you. Father, give me glory at your side, a glory I had with you before the world began.”
In our modern society when we think of Jesus, our brother, it is difficult to see him as the glorified Christ, a Christ triumphant over sin and death. And yet, this is what we are called to do. He is more than every rock star, movie idol, or million-dollar athlete rolled into one.
Yet, there is another side to this call to glory. It is this side to which we are also called. Returning to the words of John’s Gospel, we hear: “It is in [these who believe that you, Fathers, have sent me] that I am glorified.” And the Letter of Peter goes on to say: “[every Christian] should. Glorify God in virtue of the name of Christ.”
Although we might be able to see how Jesus is glorified by God, the Father, how are we to give him glory? How are we to give glory to God who has everything? How can we glorify Jesus?
Think for a moment about reflections. There are two kinds of reflections: the interior ones which go on in our minds when we are asked to reflect upon the words of scripture and the exterior reflection of a mirror. Imagine for a moment, the power of a mirror which reflects and focuses the light of the sun. Have you ever been blinded by that reflected light? As a child playing with a mirror in the yard. As a driver seeing green spots because of the reflection off the back window of the car ahead of you on the highway. A simple mirror reflects the light and heat of the sun. A mirror focuses this light and heat to an intensity not seen in the original radiation. In the same manner, we are called to be mirrors of God, mirrors reflecting back and magnifying the light of Christ.
How are we to do this? Think for a moment about still another meaning of the word, “reflect.” How often have you told your child what he or she does “reflects” back on the family? Haven’t you kids been told time and again you are a “reflection” of the family? Have we all not been reminded each Christian is to be a reflection of Christ? Everything we do, or don’t do, is a reflection of who we are.
Some of you may recall the motto of the Jesuits: everything is to be done “for the greater glory of God.” Each one of us glorifies Christ by each and every action that is truly “Christian” – even, as the Letter of Peter reminds us, by our Christian suffering, a suffering that does not come as a result of our own wrongdoing but rather a Christian suffering that comes because we defend the rights of others.
We need to recall the words of the doxology we heard a few minutes ago. We need to “praise God, from whom all blessings flow.” We need to recognize the talents and skills he has given to us, his creatures, come from our creator God and we should use them to reflect back his glory. And yes, sometimes we even need to make use of the limited talents he has given. To use our major gifts in giving glory to God is easy. The difficult task is making use of our limitations.
I said that for many years of my adult life I refused to sing at Mass. But about twelve years ago1 Karen and I made a Marriage Encounter weekend which radically changed my life. Shortly after that weekend, I began to sing while part of the congregation. After all, scripture does say we are to make a joyful noise unto the Lord. I also admit I don’t sing very loudly, I still have compassion for those around me, but I do make an attempt. I think this is all God really asks of each one of us: to make an attempt. To try to change. To try to do whatever can be done “for the greater glory of God.”
In that attempt, we have the help of Christ, himself. There is another “doxology” which is part of each Eucharistic celebration. This doxology reminds us of this fact that Christ is with us to help us give glory to his Father. At the completion of the Eucharistic prayer, just before we join together to pray to our Father, the priest elevates the host as the deacon raises the cup. The celebrant then proclaims the doxology which says: “Through him, with him, in him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, almighty Father, forever and ever.”
And to these words we all respond with the Hebrew word, “Amen” which means “I agree” or “I believe,” a word some say is better translated by the common expression: “right on!” Perhaps, at this liturgy we can once again reflect upon how each one of us can give glory to God, how each one of us, using our gifts and overcoming our limitations, can reflect back what he has given us. And in our hearts, perhaps each one of us can offer a true “amen!” – “Right on!”
Seventh Sunday of Easter; May 27, 1990
Acts 1:12-14; 1 Pet 4:13-16; Jn 17:1-11
- We made our Marriage Encounter in December 1977.