St
Charles Borromeo
Fr. Philip Neri Powell, OP
Notre Dame
Seminary, NOLA
There's
only room for two in a confessional. Only so much water can fill a
bucket. How many books can fit in a backpack? When does a pile become
a heap? Going about our day we are constantly observing and assessing
the quantities we must work with: do I have enough money for the new
Summa
translation? How much time to read all of Fr. Deo's assignments? In
my case, how many mini-packets of peanut butter will fit in my habit
pocket? The constant work of assessment and the judgments we make on
our assessments is mostly unconscious. We do it automatically.
Without much deliberation or worry. Fill up. Count out. Measure. Act
accordingly. So, what does it mean then for us to “empty
ourselves”? To “pour ourselves out”? If we must empty
ourselves, then we must consider what it is that we are full of. And
if we manage to pour ourselves out, what will fill us up, occupying
the emptiness left behind? Here’s a hint from Jesus: “Blessed is
the one who will dine in the Kingdom of God.”
Paul
goes further, admonishing the Philippians to “have among yourselves
the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus…” The same
attitude as Christ Jesus. Just before this admonition Paul writes:
“If there is any encouragement in Christ […] complete my joy by
being of the same mind, [the same heart,] thinking one thing. Do
nothing out of selfishness or out of vainglory; rather, humbly regard
others as more important than yourselves, each looking out not for
his own interests, but (also) everyone for those of others.” This
is the attitude of Christ who “though he was in the form of God […]
emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human
likeness; […] he humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, even
death on a cross.” Christ emptied himself to become Man. We must
empty ourselves to become Christ.
But
what is it that we must pour out? What fills us up, leaving no room
for God? We could say Ego. Pride. We could say Vanity. What do those
invited to the table of the Lord say when they hear his invitation?
Nothing so abstract or grand as “I am too proud.” Or, “I am
filled with selfish need.” They say what we are all likely to say,
“I’m busy.” Work to do. People to see. Family waiting for me at
home. So, work is bad? We can ignore appointments? Family is
unimportant? No. But when our reasons for declining the Lord’s
invitation to eat at his table become excuses for ignoring his
invitation to pour ourselves out, we fail at taking on the attitude
of Christ. And filled with excuses, there is no room in us for God.
What
are our excuses for refusing to empty ourselves out? I'm a delicate
snowflake, unique in every way. I have “felt needs” that haven't
been met by others. I have a direct line to God, and I know what He
wants from me. I know all the right people to get ahead in this game.
I'm too valuable as is
to be emptied out. If I hide long enough and skillfully enough, I can
just make it to my goal. And “one by one, [we] all began to excuse
[our]selves.” Exclude ourselves. From what? From the chance to be
filled with the apostolic spirit we need to preach and teach the Good
News.
Only
so many students can fill a classroom. Only so much water can fit in
a bucket. That backpack will only hold so many books. We can be
filled with excuses for declining the Lord’s invitation; or, we can
empty ourselves as he did for us, becoming more now than we were ever
made to be. If the poor, the blind, the lame, and the crippled –
all those usually left outside the banquet hall – if they can be
invited to the table, pouring themselves out and being filled with
divine food and drink, so can we. Like them, we too can become
Christ. But before we can be filled, we must be emptied.
_____________________
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