How can I repay the LORD
for all the great good done for me?
I will raise the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.
I will pay my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.
--Psalm 116:12-14
I ponder the words of the Psalmist: “for all you have done for me Lord, what can I do? How shall I repay you?” The voice of the Lord responds: “raise a cup in my memory; harden not your heart and call upon the name of the Lord always.” The cup is filled with salvation—the saving power. The same saving power found in the circular wafer, formerly known as bread, in which the Lord Himself resides.
Time in the Sanctuary before Mass, time in Adoration, time in prayer. The “God moments.” The prayer I say for the very pregnant fast-food drive-through worker who probably has no health insurance. The prayer for the person stranded on the side of the road in the pouring rain. The prayer for the parent as their child has a meltdown in the store aisle. A silent prayer for the young man who may be called to the priesthood and is questioning whether to answer that call.
I am mindful of “God revealed” in these tiny moments. These are the powerful moments of grace, where we call upon the name of the Lord for others. We raise the cup of Salvation in our hearts for them, since they may not be able to themselves.
I continue to gaze and wonder about the word “repay.” It has a ring to it. “What, O Lord, can I do to repay your love for me?” The Hebrew word is shuwb (prounounced ‘shoob’) and can mean “return,” or “turn back.” Another way is it can be translated is to “refresh” or “restore.”
How will you restore me, O God? How will you refresh my soul?
I am your servant, O Lord. Your child whom you love much. I am ready to serve you in the ways you need me to. I will pay you homage in the House of the Lord all the days of my life in all the ways I know—and in ways which are a mystery to me. The Blessed Sacrament gives me strength and courage. It renews me, enlightens me, humbles me, and consumes me so that the Lord is in me and I in Him. It is truly food for this journey.
Without the Eucharist and without the Word of God, we are nothing. They are linked together; tied like a knot. Unbreakable. Without both, things are difficult. The Eucharist is our food and the Word is our map, our guide, our compass. Through both—and in both—we participate in the thanksgiving banquet. We exult your praise and your works. We bring new perspective to our situations, our lives.
The words of Jesus from this Gospel passage ring particularly true in my
ear: “The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and life.” (John 6:63). It is
your words, O Lord, that I desire. Your healing love poured down upon me.
Poured upon those I pray for. Poured upon the Church. I yearn for the life of
the Spirit through your love.
I feel the power of your Spirit through this monstrance before me. I feel the saving power you brought upon Saint Paul as he fell on the road to Damascus; how the light blinded his eyes—but now he sees. Now he truly feels the power of the Holy Spirit. Now, through the saving grace bestowed upon him, he uses the Spirit to bring others to Christ.
In the Gospel passage, one of my friend's favorite saints—Peter the Apostle—replies to Jesus when others begin to desert him: “Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:68-69).
My friend feels a kinship to Peter; a worker, a doer, brusque and big, but sometimes not subtle or smart. Peter is a man who makes mistakes—but in this passage, he reveals that he truly believes in Jesus. He knows that by the words Jesus speaks, we can be healed from our earthly bonds, and freed from slavery to sin. Peter knows the words of Psalm 116 quite well. Maybe he was thinking it as he said those words to Jesus: “My vows to the Lord I will pay in the presence of all his people.” (v. 18)
This time before prayer and meditation before the Eucharist is a time of renewal and refreshment, much like the Mass. It is a time to let go of the struggles, challenges, and problems—and focus on the “great good” God has done. The little things. The big things. The love of Jesus.
I am reminded of a wonderful priest, whose favorite passage in the Gospel is the opening lines of John: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be. What came to be through him was life, and this life was the light of the human race; the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:1-5)
Next to the tabernacle hangs the light; the light that honors and celebrates the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ. The light that welcomes and rejoices. The light that helps us see. The light that gives life.
Send me forth so that I may proclaim, in words and
deeds, your saving power.
Amen.
Photo: Cropped version by author. Originally from Wikimedia. No author. Tabernacle at Cathédrale Saint Louis de Versailles. Cathedrale saint louis versailles tabernacle - Church tabernacle - Wikipedia
Photo of Sanctuary lamp: Author
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