When the bell rang, I started class the way I had, so often, over the last few weeks “What do we call this corner I’m standing in?”
Ralph Cain, without raising his hand, said “Isolation.”
“And what, Fatima, is the Acronym we use for the characteristics of Isolation?”
“Don’t take iguanas down escalators, Mr. Warner.”
“Good.” I replied, “And Will—what does ‘take’ stand for?”
Will, looking at his notes, responded “Thinking we’re perfect and invulnerable?”
“Good,” I said, walking over to the other side of the room. “Now Hillary, what is the sentence we use to remember the Characteristics of Community?”
Hillary, without looking at her notes, replied, “Here, Koalas ate uncooked Eucalyptus.”
“And what, Hillary, does ‘Koalas’ stand for?”
“Knowing we’re imperfect and vulnerable.” Hilary replied.
“Ok. Good.” In a rare move, I positioned a chair at the front of the room, facing my students. “Ok, story time.” I sat down. “When I was in the monastery, it was the most isolated time of my life. I did that thing we talked about when we studied vanity. I said ‘I’m spiritual and you all are chumps.’ I elevated myself and put others down. The way I teach this course, ladies and gentlemen, is totally ruled by my experience. I don’t think I ever told y’all why I left the monastery. Well, the fact is, I was so isolated that I suffered from some pretty intense depression. I remember one day, I grabbed a bowl of cereal, sat down and started eating it. After a few bites I realized that I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I couldn’t taste my food.
“The point is this: being in isolation, letting the eight evil thoughts run the game, places our minds between us and the world. And it changes the way that we use our eyes. We can’t look at a desk and see the God who made it anymore. We can’t taste our food because we’re too busy thinking about how exceptional we are. We were told we could access God by thinking about him, and ultimately we were misinformed.
“Here’s the big point, today’s topic: The reason the sacraments are so important is because they teach us to empty our heads, to use our senses for what they were made for. Sacraments use water you can feel, candles you can see and smell, oil you can feel, baptismal garments you can see. It’s a way of restoring our connection to God using senses and feeling, not thought.
“In isolation, we deny our vulnerabilities. This is true: for all those years, I didn’t think I needed anyone or anything.” I rose from my chair, moved into the isolation corner. After a while, I realized that’s why Jesus became a man. As we move from isolation into community, we go from thinking we’re invulnerable to knowing we’re vulnerable.” As I said this, I moved to the center of the room. “Though knowing we’re vulnerable is part of being in community, admitting we’re imperfect is only part of the story. The fact is, the reason we were given a body, and the reason Jesus came in a body,” as I spoke I moved securely into the community corner, “is so that we could realize our vulnerabilities are holy. Now, please open your notebooks.” I clicked a powerpoint button. “Write this down. ‘The movement of Sacramentality, from isolation into community, isn’t just a moment from denying vulnerability, to admitting it. It’s a movement from denying it, to admitting it, to knowing it’s holy.’ This is what the 7 Sacraments do for us.”
“Who can name a few times, in Human Life when we’re vulnerable? Any moment when you realize you can’t do it on your own, your not perfect and you’re not gonna live forever.”
Will Parks raised his hand, I gave him a nod “When you die.”
“Totally—when you die. That’s an easy one. And I would add ‘when you’re sick’ to that, because one often leads to the other. When else are we vulnerable?”
Fatima raised her hand. “When you’re a baby?”
“Sure, Fatima,” I replied “you can’t feed yourself, clothe yourself, shelter yourself as a baby. Without protection you die. That vulnerability is holy. Ralph Cain, why would organizations like the black panthers start ‘free breakfast’ programs, and why would school systems nationwide provide children with free lunch throughout the summer?”
“Hey…free food!” Ralph replied, checking-in for the first time that day. “I don’t know Mr. Warner.”
“What happens if you don’t eat, Ralph?” I asked
“Oh. You die,” Ralph replied.
“You die! So birth, death and sickness, and hunger all make us vulnerable. What about growing up? Does that come with an instruction manual?”
Three students in unison: “No.”
“When you ask someone out to the movies, what two things could they say, Hillary?”
“They could say yes, or maybe they could say no.” She replied.
“And really, asking someone to the movies is just a rehearsal for maybe asking them to marry you. So love makes us vulnerable. And the process of growing up and maturing. If we do something wrong, what will happen to us, Cole?”
“You get thrown in Juvy.”
“Right, Cole. So doing wrong makes us vulnerable. What if, Will, I wanted to help homeless people, but instead of building them homes I put them all in Jail? What might they say.”
“Well, you ain’t helping nobody, Mr. Warner.”
“True! So I have to listen to people if I’m going to serve them,” I said, “And I could mess that up. So ‘Learning to Serve’ is an experience that makes us vulnerable. Everyone open your notebooks!”
I put the next slide of our powerpoint on the screen. Click “The vulnerability of birth isn’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of baptism.” Click “The vulnerability of growing up and maturing isn’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of confirmation.” Click “The vulnerability of hunger isn’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of Eucharist.” Click. “The vulnerability of love isn’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of Marriage.” Click. “The vulnerability of learning to serve isn’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of Holy Orders.” Click “The vulnerability of sin isn’t just made acceptable, but holy, in the sacrament of reconciliation.” Click “The vulnerabilities of sickness and death aren’t just made acceptable, but holy in the sacrament of anointing of the sick.” They wrote feverishly.
I continued, “In Isolation, we think our thoughts will get us to God. Our bodies, by using candles and water, by using bread and wine and oil, slowly retrain us to use the senses to get to God. As we become less attached to thought, more at home in our bodies and the world, we become more attuned to our vulnerabilities and our need for others.
“I want to close with this bit from a buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. I read this when I was in high school and it changed my life. He’s talking about the Eucharist, but from a buddhist perspective. This whole next section of the course is about getting out of our heads, into reality. About getting out of isolation, into community through the sacraments, and learning to see God in the world again through our senses.”
Thich Nhat Hanh, a buddhist monk, said this about the Eucharist:
Holy Communion is a strong bell of mindfulness. We drink and eat all the time, but we usually ingest only our ideas, projects, worries and anxiety. We do not really eat our bread and drink our beverage. If we allow ourselves to touch our bread deeply, we become reborn…eating it deeply, we touch the sun the clouds, the earth, and everything in the cosmos. We touch life and we touch the kingdom of God…
It’s ironic that when Mass is said today, many congregants are not called to mindfulness at all. They have heard the words so many times that they just feel a little distracted. This is exactly what Jesus was trying to overcome when he said This is my Body, This is my Blood. When we are truly there, dwelling deeply in the present moment…the body of Christ is the body of God, the body of ultimate reality, the ground of all existence.
I turned my gaze from the book to my students. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is what the sacraments do. This is what Jesus became human to teach us.” The bell rang. “It’s time to go, but when we learn what the sacraments have to teach us, all that will exist is here and now.”
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