Today.

Today, something hit me, and I can’t get it off of my mind.

Today, I realized once again that I fall so easily into living my life on autopilot, I let the silliest things consume my thoughts, especially as things get busier and my calendar seems to have too many obligations and activities to fit into the limited number of hours in the day.

Today, I realized, once again, how much I take for granted.

Here in America, we are living in a state of comfort and discord. We are in a state of comfort because we have embraced the lie of relativism—the fallacious philosophy that says that each of us are entitled to our own sense and our own version of the truth and that if they conflict with one another, well, that’s fine. Believe what you want to believe—think what you want to think—do what the hell you want to do—the little red man on our shoulder gently whispers into our ear as we fall asleep to his lullaby of lies and allow him to take over our lives bit-by-bit and action-by-action. That sounds a bit drastic—it kind of makes me uncomfortable. But, perhaps it should.

Our discord, ironically (but not surprisingly) finds itself with the same source. As human beings, we have a deep inner desire for the truth, yet, living in a world that tells us that what we long for is whatever we want it to be in a particular moment—well, it’s not very satisfying. We are a society that screams the message of a grossly distorted tolerance from the rooftops yet hides in the depths of safe spaces or fights against the tide as soon as something even remotely offends us. Sometimes, it’s hard to wrap our minds around—yet, it’s also understandable. We want to know the truth. But, we have been formed by ideologies that tell us we should only know the truth that makes us comfortable.

The same seems true, to some extent, for our faith. We call a nation home that promises freedom of religion, and as citizens of a free nation, we are allowed to choose if and how we worship, if and how a faith molds who we are and what we stand for. Yet, we’ve become comfortable. We’ve become comfortable in accepting whatever we want to accept—whatever message makes us the most comfortable. We’ve become so comfortable in our freedom that it leads to discord when we turn on the news, or when we’re faced with something that challenges us or leads us to question the very thing that can bring us comfort.

This past Easter, my pastor woke me up once again to a reality that I can so easily ignore—and I’m sure I’m not the only one. It was in a homily. He pointed out that if we were in another part of the world, filling the pews of a church to attend Mass would leave us with the risk of loosing our heads. It is a gruesome truth that we don’t want to accept—but we’re really left with no alternative.

I can’t ignore the news. The black flag of a terrorist organization rises in town after town throughout the Middle East. Men who cover their faces and carry guns and knives in their hand kill so-called infidels in the name of religion—claiming to worship God who commands them to do so. They’re killing Christians. Even if they aren’t Catholic, they are part of Christ’s Body—when they harm them, they harm Him, and they harm me. Images of terror fill our screens—the twenty-one Coptic Egyptians lined up on a beach keeping the names of Christ on their lips until one last breath escapes—only to have their place taken by a ball game’s score or a video of a cat doing something silly.

Today, I held God in my hands.

Today, as I have the privilege—one I often take for granted—of doing every day, I went to Mass. I have to admit, I was on autopilot—that is, until the second half of Mass. I watched a priest take bread that can sometimes taste worse than the box it came in and some cheap wine that would probably never be served at a dinner party, and repeat the words found in Sacred Scripture—doing what Christ commanded us to do—to gather in memory of him and to receive the bread and wine transformed into his very person—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.

Today, a priest held God in front of me and placed Him in my hands. I took into myself the One that created the universe and all that is within it—the One who created me—the One who loves me enough to allow my lungs to have another breath and my heart another beat—the One who loved me enough to die the death of a criminal that I deserved.

Today, I received the One who did and still does everything out of Love—the One who is Love. Today, I received the Truth that we so desperately long for, but rests in tabernacles in churches throughout the world waiting for us, and for us personally, as if no one else in the world existed. Today, I received the same Love and the same Truth that my brothers and sisters in a part of the world not too distant from my own risk their very lives to receive, because they get it. They understand with a depth that I don’t know if I am yet capable of that nothing else matters the moment that we receive God, or really, in any other moment, either. They get that He is more important than everything—that He is above our calendars and to-do lists—that He transcends anything that could offend us or cause us discomfort—that He is the Truth that overcomes the lies that we buy into—and the ideologies that lead others to seek our destruction. They get that He is the love that can wash away our anxieties and our faults, that can drown out our shortcomings and our fears in the Love and the Mercy that flowed from His side on the Cross—the Love and the Mercy that compels Him to not leave us alone.

May we understand as they understand.

May we love as they love.

May seek the Truth as they do.

Lord, forgive me for the times I have not done so.

Help me to love you, the source of Love above all else and all else in You,

And in all things, may You be glorified.

Amen.