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Bright Torches

 The prayer after Communion at Mass today is an intriguing one:


"Nourished by these divine gifts, Almighty God, we ask you to grant our desire:

that, aflame with your spirit, we might shine like bright torches

before your Christ when he comes.

Who lives and reigns forever and ever."


Now some might say this isn't nearly as intriguing as today's Gospel of Matthew, which details the genealogy of Jesus Christ.   I mean, this Gospel is redemption for every single of one of us who isn't convinced of our own perfection.  You think you have a few bad apples in your family?  The lineage of the Son of God has its share too.  Adulterers, murderers, prostitutes - they're all there.  The Good, The Bad and The Ugly to assure us that Jesus knew what he was getting into when he took our nature.   

One thing I know about myself is that I have been falling down at the part about shining like a bright torch.   I don't say this from a false sense of humility either.  During the pandemic, daily Mass is often a near occasion of sin for me.  I choose to be fully vaccinated and wear a mask and I don't appreciate the holier-than-thous who refuse to do either, yet want to sit in close proximity to me.  So I've taken to sitting where I can't even see the altar sometimes because it's away from those who do not feel obligated to take the least precautions.  And then I find myself stewing and seething because I observe someone who is unmasked coughing or barging ahead in the line for Holy Communion to receive on the tongue instead of at least having the consideration to go to the end of the line.  What kind of shining torch is this?

Jesus Christ is going to descend into the priest's hands at the consecration regardless of how badly the cantor sings, or the congregation behaves, or the priest makes up his own words in the liturgy.  Why do I continue to let that stuff drive me nuts?  Wouldn't I rather be St. Therese, treating the noise of the clacking rosary of a fellow nun as heavenly music?  

Unfortunately, it is going to take some doing to burn what's left of the Trad out of me.  But how about when I'm not in church?  Let's take my daily runs for instance.  They present a myriad of opportunities for letting go, for keeping quiet, for being patient, for going last.  But when my heart rate and blood pressure are up, my tolerance goes down.  The other day a car nearly hit me as it ran a stop sign.  The driver, a young female, had her window rolled down and sneered at me as she went by. I gave her some advice, and it wasn't G rated.  And worst of all, I pray my Rosary when I run.  So I interrupted a Hail Mary with some not so pure language that I don't ordinarily use.  More of a smoking mess than a shining torch, wouldn't you say?

Then there are the people in my family and circle of friends who don't recognize that I am very often a curmudgeon.  I'm not the warm and fuzzy type but people seem to want to forget that and then get mad at me.  An acquaintance who has a lot of issues wanted to drop off some sweets the other day.  Never mind I have told her repeatedly that the particular treat she makes is not a favorite of mine and that her baked goods would go to waste.  Why couldn't I just accept them and lie and say they were delicious?  I could thank her, be gracious and give them to someone else (I don't do empty calories these days).  Instead, I made excuses for why we'd have to take a rain check making the exchange.  She can't read social cues.  And she is oblivious.  Would it really have cost me to be gracious?  

Last week a priest blocked me on Twitter because when he asked me "don't you think I know that already" I responded "not based on your response, no."  I could have just said "I'm sure you do, Father" but he irritated me like the pastor of my church often irritates me with what I would describe as liturgical laziness.  If Jesus Christ is going to descend from Heaven, what should I care if the priest omits the Gloria or gives boring sermons?  

I'm not the only Christian failing to be a shining torch, lighting the way for the Christ Child. But I'm the only I'm in control of and I need to do better.  I will when I realize I can't do it without God's help, which he doesn't give unless he's asked. 


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