05/10/2019
Acts of the Apostles 9:1-20
Saul, still breathing murderous threats against the disciples of the Lord, went
to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus,
that, if he should find any men or women who belonged to the Way, he might
bring them back to Jerusalem in chains. On his journey, as he was nearing
Damascus, a light from the sky suddenly flashed around him. He fell to the
ground and heard a voice saying to him, "Saul, Saul, why are you
persecuting me?" He said, "Who are you, sir?" The reply came,
"I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. Now get up and go into the city and
you will be told what you must do." The men who were traveling with him
stood speechless, for they heard the voice but could see no one. Saul got up
from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing; so they led
him by the hand and brought him to Damascus. For three days he was unable to
see, and he neither ate nor drank.
Some of God’s greatest gifts to us
are our five senses: sight, smell, hearing, touch and taste. Who doesn’t love
seeing a blazing sunset in the evening, or hearing the melancholy melody of
“The Piano Man” belted out by Billy Joel, or sink their teeth and taste Chef
Ben’s signature short-ribs, or the touch of a tender kiss or warm embrace, or
the smell of honeysuckle or jasmine, which are everywhere lately. That’s a lot
better than what we sometimes smell around Fort Smith. These gifts of the five
senses were intended to raise our minds and hearts to the divine Giver so that
we would praise him and thank him. But what often happens? We grab the gift and
forget the Giver; we stop at the senses that bless the body but fail to notice
and nurture the soul. And therefore these amazing assets can slowly subvert
into lamentable liabilities.
St. Thomas Aquinas readily
recognized the limitations of our five senses when we deal with matters of
faith, especially when it comes to Holy Communion and the Holy Eucharist.
Aquinas wrote some of the most moving hymns for Eucharistic adoration, that all
Catholics are familiar with. And yet he never wanted us to stop at the senses –
the hymn – but rather surpass the senses and reach the supreme Source of all
blessing, namely, God himself. He wrote and we sing: “Down in adoration
falling, / Lo! the sacred Host we hail, / Lo! o’er ancient forms departing /
Newer rites of grace prevail; / Faith for all defects supplying, / Where the
feeble senses fail.” I love that phrase “feeble senses” because they are indeed
feeble when they deal with objects of faith, like the Eucharist. Jesus says in
the gospel today that the Bread of Communion is the Body of Christ we must eat.
St. Thomas was a pretty portly person and would have loved Chef Ben’s
short-ribs. But he always sensed that the senses can quickly convert from an
asset to a liability if we love them too much. Our senses are fabulous but they
are also feeble.
In the Acts of the Apostles, St.
Paul also learns the lesson of how feeble his senses are when it comes to
faith. He is on the road to Damascus when he is stripped of his five senses in
order to behold Jesus. Our Lord says to him: “Saul, Saul, why are you
persecuting me? I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” In order for Saul to
become Paul, he had to relinquish his reliance on his senses and start to walk
by faith and not by sight. We read a little later: “For three days he was
unable to see, and he neither ate nor drank.” No Chef Ben’s short-ribs for Saul
until he becomes Paul. This encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus was
the central event of Paul’s life, and everything else would revolve around it.
He would tell the story again in Acts 22, and also in Acts 26. He also makes
mention of it in Galatians 1 and in 1 Corinthians 15. Like St. Thomas, St. Paul
had to “fall down in adoration” and recognize how feeble his senses were for
dealing with faith. The five senses are fabulous but they are also feeble.
My friends, have you noticed how as
we grow older, we, too, slowly lose our senses? What happened to Saul suddenly
and swiftly happens to us more slowly and successively. My optometrist told me
that between the ages of forty and forty-five, people’s eyesight diminishes and
we need glasses. Older people often lose their hearing. Half of you probably
cannot hear this homily. Our sense of touch is troubled and we find it hard to
keep our balance as we walk because we cannot feel the ground. The same food
and drink don’t taste as good to us as they once did. And maybe even smell is
slightly curbed for some, which might not be so bad around here.
While the loss of our senses is
sad, it may also be a strange blessing. Why? Sometimes it’s only when our
senses become feeble that our faith becomes strong. Just ask Saul the Pharisee.
As we grow older we must learn to walk more by faith and less by sight, because
heck, we cannot see anything anyway. Just look around this church and notice
most of the people at Mass are older. Why? It’s not just because you are
retired and have too much time on your hands. It is also because your feeble
senses help you to have a stronger faith.
Praised be Jesus
Christ!
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