The other night, I was driving home from Cleveland after spending a weekend with my cousin and was praying the Novena to Mary Undoer of Knots and was reflecting on the Joyful Mysteries, my personal favorite. Normally, I pray these mysteries pondering the faith of Mary and asking for incredible abandonment and virtue like her. But on this particular night, as I drove on I-71 S with windows rolled down and wind whipping through my hair, the Lord granted me the grace of contemplation and allowed me to plunge deep into these mysteries through the eyes of St. Joseph.
As I began the Third Joyful Mystery, the Birth of Our Lord, I felt the familiar tugging at my heart, the Holy Spirit welcoming me to go deeper with him. I began to imagine the morning after the birth of Jesus. Our Blessed Mother is peacefully asleep next to the manger, which cradles the infant Jesus. St. Joseph approaches to behold the beauty of his wife, exhausted in body, yet invigorated in spirit from the birth of her son. Like the common experience of a father looking upon the magnificence of the mother of his child, he stands in awe. But this awe far surpasses that of any other man as he has the supreme honor of beholding his wife, the woman he loves, who has also been chosen to bear the Son of God into the world. With eyes filling with tears of soul-penetrating gratitude, he falls weak from incredible love for this woman of such extraordinary grace and virtue. With time elapsing subtly, he is startled, his concentration interrupted, by the most beautiful sound his ears have ever heard--a whimper from the infant lying close to him.
Tenderly, St. Joseph picks up the infant Jesus and carries him out into the still coolness of this Bethlehem morning. As sun subtly rises into the sky, the Son lays delicately in the crook of his Joseph's arms. Yet again, Joseph is filled with deep gratitude as he experiences such profound silence and solitude. The angel choirs have ceased their songs of praise. The shepherds have left to sleep with promises of returning to worship later that day. Even the voice of his angelic wife is silenced by the peacefulness of her slumber. He is alone for the first time with his son.
Unable to muster up the courage to behold the face of Jesus, Joseph counts toes. Caresses skin. Traces fingerprints. But at last, he dares to lift his eyes to look at the face of the Son. The word 'look' is simply not sufficient. GAZE is the only word that suffices. Undistracted. Indescribable. All-beauty beholding gaze of father into the eyes of Son and Savior. And it is here that a great reversal occurs. As he gazes into the eyes of the perfect child in his arms, he is the one who is held. He is the babe cradled in the arms of his provider. He is the helpless one needing nourishment and rest.
Flooded with joy spurred by so great a love, he whispers, "How far you have come to be here with me, my son, my Lord." Overcome with wonder at the audacious humility of Jesus in his great descent to earth, he turns back to look at the filth in which his Lord has been been residing. Oh, what a humble dwelling for the King of Kings! Oh, how he wishes he had riches to offer a more suitable place for so perfect a Being. Oh, how desperately he wishes to give everything to the Incarnation of Love himself. And basking in his earthly poverty, Joseph offers Christ the riches He most desires--his aspirations, his accolades, his affections.
I yearn to be transfixed like Joseph, motionless with astonishment and wonder at the love of our Lord. I long to know the heartbeat of Jesus as did John the Evangelist (John 13:23). I long to be Mary, huddled on the floor in humility and worship, recognizing the royalty of the Lord (John 12:1-7). I long for this intimacy with Christ that leads to abandonment, to WORSHIP.
Worship is defined as the response to something you value most. To worship, we must value. And to value, we must know that we ARE valued. We are cherished. We are loved. We are the pearl of great price, which Jesus has sold everything to acquire (Matthew 13:44-46). He left the grandeur of heaven to descend into the filth of our humanity, not to stand aloof from us, but to remain IN us (John 15), eyes constantly fixed ON us. He sacrificed his body on the beautiful wood of the cross to "prove his love" (Romans 5:8). And he still stands, knocking at the door of our hearts, longing to enter and dine with us (Revelation 3:20).
This week, may our eyes be opened to see the way that the Lord is seeking this intimacy with us. May we meet him in the stillness of the morning, in the solitude of prayer, yearning to embrace us and draw us deeper into his Sacred Heart. May we visit our Churches and sit in front of the tabernacle, a dwelling place even more humble than the manger, and allow him to reveal to us our poverty, showing us the areas of our lives in which he wishes to be enthroned. May we meet the Lord in the Eucharist, where he longs to "enter and dine with us" as we receive his Body and Blood. And in all these ways, may we be moved to deeper and more authentic worship as we come to realize the deep and authentic love of Christ for us.
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