Writing this third installment on reflections of the Mass, this time focusing on the Liturgy of the Word, I searched for what Fr. Howard Gray, SJ, had to say about this part of the Eucharistic celebration.

I found a homily delivered by Fr. John O’Malley, SJ, at the funeral Mass for Fr. Gray last May 12. It was a shock cause I did not know Fr. Gray had died.

While reading the homily, I felt a lump in my throat—sad over the loss of a spiritual man, a “giant” in Ignatian spirituality, its scholarship and practice. As I write this reflection, I am holding back the tears.

Fr. Gray was living in the country during my seminary years with the Jesuits. After completing his term as provincial-superior of the Detroit Jesuits, he flew to the Philippines for a sabbatical. In one of our annual eight-day retreats as seminarians, he was our retreat director.

Indelible mark

There are three things that left an indelible mark in my encounter with Fr. Gray. One, he was a compassionate, caring, but firm person through and through.

Two, by using the Gospel of the Parable of the Good Samaritan (which he had asked to be used for his funeral Mass), he gave me the image and idea that Christian service is about building a network of compassion.

This impacted in my work as a high school principal and now as an educator, trainor and formator in public schools, in which work means building caring communities where people can be loved into excellence.

Three, he told us that to be good preachers or spiritual directors, we should read good literature.

This is the Liturgy of the Word, a time for us to “read good literature.” It is a moment of grace to get in touch again with the story of our salvation—the story of God accompanying us in our journey, individually and in the community of humanity, our shared humanity.

This Sunday’s Gospel, the part on the Discourse on the Bread of Life, may seem “odd,” but this was very much the practice then. Part of the animal sacrificed in the temple was taken and cooked for people to feast on after the sacrifice.

The sacrifice, they believed, was blessed with God’s presence, and their eating part of the sacrifice gave them a deep bond and union with God.

In all of the mystery religions then and in the liturgical dramas, there was a working up toward this “high point” of the liturgy, the union with God.

Union

This experience was notable in the passion plays, cutting across cultures, from the Oberammergau Passion Plays to our Filipino Senakulo
—which are characterized by a build-up of emotions through prayers, stories, songs, words in general, to prepare for the moment of union with God.

The words that Christ speaks in this part of the discourse are familiar to the people, but, at the same time, Christ challenges them to make a paradigm shift. From the manna from heaven received through Moses that gave people sustenance and life, Christ shifts the paradigm to his being “the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever.”

As the discourse reaches its climax, it challenges people to make a choice to be with Christ or to leave him.

The Liturgy of the Word reconnects us to our story, the story of our journey of faith. The Gospel is one such story, a journey from faith to faith.

In the Liturgy of the Eucharistic, the beautiful words at consecration sum it up: “He took bread and, giving thanks, broke it and gave to his [friends], saying, ‘Do this in memory of me.’”

At the moment of “the breaking of bread,” we come to know him. The choice is before us, “to love [him] more dearly, and to follow [him] more nearly day by day.”

Postscript: The Liturgy of the Word begins at Mass and continues on to conversations with family and friends.

Good storytelling evokes more storytelling, leading to conversation and to seeing the wholeness of our life and story where God was, is and will always be lovingly, providentially present, accompanying us on the road of our journey.

Thank you, Fr. Howard Gray, for teaching us how to be good companions on the road, telling stories to and listening to the stories of one another. I will remember you in each story I tell in the Liturgy of the Word. —CONTRIBUTED