We have one of those decrepit playsets in our backyard. You know, the kind made from heavily processed wood, that somehow managed to survive a move from our old house to this one, and now sinks an inch or so further into the ground each year. We keep it back there for the one or two days my children remember it exists and play on it for about an hour. It’s one of those decaying lawn ornaments that casts a broken hunk of wood from its clubhouse roof every so often and whose sandbox has become cat litter and a breeding ground for weeds.
Well, my five-year-old came across a rubber mallet and decided to take a few whacks at the old set, sending reverberations through the whole thing and making me realize just how unstable it was. After another good crack at it, I told him to stop so he didn’t break anything. This backfired of course. In disobedience, he started slamming the mallet in as many places as he could. His erratic fit led him to the plastic slide. He sent the mallet head down on the bendy surface, it ricocheted and bounded off his own forehead leaving him stunned. He lowered the mallet from his forehead, stared at it with contempt, and then chucked it across the yard. He turned away from the situation resolutely — rubbing his head and fighting back tears — and went after a soccer ball across the yard. I believe his remorse was strong enough that he won’t misuse the mallet again. (However, I don’t think his sorrow extended beyond his own physical pain to his disobedience, but it was a start!)
This scene was a small illustration of repentance. Regarding repentance, the Catechism says:
Interior repentance is a radical reorientation of our whole life, a return, a conversion to God with all our heart, an end of sin, a turning away from evil, with repugnance toward the evil actions we have committed. At the same time it entails the desire and resolution to change one's life, with hope in God’s mercy and trust in the help of his grace. This conversion of heart is accompanied by a salutary pain and sadness which the Fathers called animi cruciatus (affliction of spirit) and compunctio cordis (repentance of heart) (no. 1431).
By way of analogy, my son disobeyed and hurt himself. With more force, his actions could have hurt the other kids on the playset, too. Through pain caused by his own actions, he came to realize that those actions were not in accordance with the truth (of how a mallet should be used) and with repugnance, he threw away the instrument (and hopefully the act of disobedience) that caused him pain and sadness. He then resolutely walked away and toward some other good (the soccer ball).
Throughout this series, I’ve attempted to make the case that the Christian life is a Eucharistic life. By extension, I believe we can say the Eucharistic life is one of repentance. Let’s break this down.
Vatican II lays out a beautiful vision for the human person in Gaudium et spes, which says, “The truth is that only in the mystery of the incarnate Word does the mystery of man take on light” (no. 22). Turning our focus to Christ leads to a dual insight. On one hand, we can see our dignity and purpose — the heights to which we are called. In truth, we see the goodness of the human person and a life oriented to God. On the other hand, Jesus’ life stands as a kind of measuring stick for the Christian, and so we see how far we have to go to respond wholeheartedly to the call. In other words, we see our shortcomings for what they are. We see our sin for what it is. This gap between who Jesus is (and who we are called to be as Christians) and the humble acknowledgment of where we really are, this gap is the catalyst for repentance. It’s what drives our need for interior penance and ongoing conversion.
Now, if Jesus and his way of life is the measuring stick for the Christian disciple (think WWJD), and the Eucharist is Jesus, then the Eucharist and a Eucharistic way of life can help bring our need for repentance into striking relief. Said another way, if Christian life is a Eucharistic life, then the degree to which we are not living Eucharistically can dispose us to deeper conversion and guide our striving for holiness.
So, we can look to the Eucharist and ask ourselves: What is Jesus revealing to me about himself in the Eucharist? What does Jesus’ Eucharistic presence teach me about how I am to live the Christian life? What does it mean to follow Christ in his Eucharistic presence? Am I faithfully living a Eucharistic life?
In this series on Eucharistic living, I’ve attempted to surface some of the characteristics of Eucharistic living — all of which can function as part of an examination of conscience.
In a real way, the Eucharist can serve as the source of an examination of conscience and interior conversion. The Eucharist inspires repentance, which explains the penitential act at the beginning of Mass and the close ties between the Eucharist and the Sacrament of Reconciliation. But, Jesus’ presence in the Eucharist goes further. The Eucharist isn’t merely a measuring rod pointing out my shortcomings. It might be that to a degree, but the Eucharist is his life in me, transforming my life and bringing about the repentance I need to be made whole.
By turning to Christ, our lives make sense, and we can see that sin is nonsense. So too, by considering who Jesus reveals himself to be and how we are to live in the concreteness of the Eucharist, we can make sense of our lives and repent for the nonsense. Maybe, inspired by the call to a Eucharistic way of life, we can throw away the misused hammer of sin that makes a mess of things, turn towards Christ, and more resolutely follow The Way.
Brad Bursa is director of evangelization for the Stella Maris Family of Parishes in Cincinnati, Ohio. He is the father of eight children and the author of Because He Has Spoken to Us and Surviving Catholic Ministry.
