My Words Will Not Pass Away

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins, and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph my father and lord, my guardian angel intercede for me.

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away” (Luke 21:33). We’re told by Our Lord in St. Luke. What Jesus has said in his preaching, in his conversations, will literally last forever. God has directed those words to every man, every woman, every child who will walk the face of the earth. We’re told by St. Paul in his letter to the Hebrews, “In many and various ways, God spoke of old to our fathers by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son” (Heb. 1:1–2).

Just as he spoke to our forefathers in the faith, Our Lord speaks to us in our day. Because his message is divine, it can’t be limited by human constraints of time and place. Sacred scripture acquires the fullness of its meaning in the figure and preaching of Christ. St. Augustine has commented, “The law was pregnant with Christ.” And on another occasion, he said to read the books of the prophets without seeing the coming of Christ is a most insipid practice. Seek therefore to find Christ in these words, and they will prove not only delightful but stimulating.

Christ will also enlighten our minds about the riches within scripture. We’re told in St. Luke, “Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures” (Luke 24:45). The Jews who refused to believe in the gospel were left with a chest full of treasure, but without the key to unlock it. St. Paul explained to the first Christians at Corinth, he said, “But their minds were hardened. For to this day, when they read the old covenant, that same veil remains unlifted, because only through Christ is it taken away” (2 Cor. 3:14).

The economy of the Old Testament was deliberately so orientated that it should prepare for and declare in prophecy the coming of Christ, redeemer of all men, and of the messianic kingdom. The Second Vatican Council also says God, the inspirer and author of the books of the Testaments, in his wisdom has so brought it about that the New should be hidden in the Old and that the Old should be made manifest in the New.

In this context, it can be inspiring to read the dialogue between Philip the Apostle and the Ethiopian official from the court of the Queen Candace. The Ethiopian was sitting in his chariot reading the prophet Isaiah. Philip ran up to the man and asked him, “Do you understand what you’re reading?” The Ethiopian replied, “How can I unless someone guides me?” Philip took a seat in the chariot and beginning with this scripture, he told him the good news of Jesus. He explains the writings of Isaiah by means of the message of Jesus. His catechesis was wonderfully straightforward. Jesus was the key concept.

St. John Chrysostom has commented on this passage from the Acts of the Apostles: “Let us meditate on the importance of our reading the scriptures with devotion, even during our travels.” Some people excuse themselves from this practice because they’re busy with their family affairs, or because they have military drills, or because they have some worry or other. They think, says St. John, that such matters preclude any serious effort to read and meditate sacred scripture. This Ethiopian official is an example for all of us: those who have a quiet life, those who belong to the army, those who are officials, those who have chosen a monastic life, those who care for their families at home.

Let everyone learn, he says, that no circumstance should be an impediment for our divine reading. We can do this, he says, at home or in the town square, or in the public park, or on a trip, or in the company of others, or right in the middle of our work. I beseech you, do not be careless with your reading of scriptures.

From her earliest days, the Church has recommended that the faithful read and meditate on the texts of sacred scripture, particularly on the books of the New Testament. There we will find Christ coming out to meet us. Through a few moments each day, we can become best friends with Jesus. Truly love depends on our prior knowledge.

The books of the Old Testament outlined in advance the path which Christ marked out on his earthly journey. Scripture was in a certain sense a gradual announcement of the Messiah. The prophets foretold the day of his coming and they ardently desired to see it. The disciples recognized in Christ the fulfillment of all the prophecies. When St. Paul had to defend himself before King Agrippa, he simply stated, “So I stand here testifying both to small and great, saying nothing but what the prophets and Moses said would come to pass” (Acts 26:22).

Christ was not bound by the patriarchs and prophets. It was God who inspired them to describe the characteristics of the Son of God. As Jesus said to the leaders of Israel, “If you believed Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote of me” (John 5:46). And later on he said to them, “Your father Abraham rejoiced that he was to see my day; he saw it and was glad” (John 8:56). Our Lord took upon himself the types and figures of the Old Testament: the temple, manna, the rock, the serpent raised up in the wilderness. His biblical references are unmistakable.

This perhaps explains Our Lord’s frustration with the scribes and the Pharisees. He said to them in St. John, “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that bear witness to me” (John 5:39). We read in the gospel that the heavens and the earth will pass away, but that God’s word will last forever. God’s revelation to man is fulfilled in the person of Christ. But now that the faith is founded on Christ, and in this era of grace the law of the gospel has been made manifest, there is no reason to inquire of him in that manner, nor for him to speak or to answer as he did then. For in giving us, as he did, his Son, says St. John of the Cross, he has said everything to us together once and for all in this single Word, and he has no occasion to speak further.

St. Paul in his letter to the Hebrews says, “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (Heb. 4:12). This word is directed to every person who receives it with faith. In the sacred books, the Father who is in heaven comes lovingly to meet his children and talks with them.

The Second Vatican Council has said, “Such is the force and power of the Word of God that it can serve the Church as her support and vigor, and the children of the Church as strength for their faith, food for the soul, and a pure and lasting fount of spiritual life.”

The teachings of Jesus are always up to date. We’re often amazed at the relevancy of the saga of the Prodigal Son, of the importance in every age of the leaven to transform the dough, of the reactions of the people cured by Our Lord. Many times we have joined Bartimaeus in asking Jesus for his light: Domine, ut videam—Lord, that I may see. We’ve also used that plea of the publican: “My God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (Luke 18:13).

Our daily reading of the gospel can be a source of strength and comfort. The Psalms say, “How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth” (Ps. 119:103).

When we first heard the idea coming from St. Josemaria that we should try to read the gospel for two or three minutes every day, we might have had the thought, “Well, can anything good come from doing something for just two or three minutes each day?” But you may find that fifty years later, you’re still reading the gospel for two or three minutes each day. That habit has led you to have a great knowledge of the person of Jesus and of the doctrine that he imparts.

Ronald Knox encouraged people to meditate on Our Lord’s passion. He gave an analogy from parish life. He said when you have a lot of people singing without any organ accompaniment, there’s a constant tendency for the note to drop all the time. It gets lower and lower as it goes on. Therefore, where the choir isn’t accustomed to singing without accompaniment, every now and then the choirmaster, who has a pitch pipe concealed in his person, gives a little toot in the background to remind them of the higher note which they ought to be taking and are not.

You see, we are rather like that. We go on living from day to day without thinking much about how we are living or what we are here for, or whether the things that chiefly interest us are really worth living for. We can get accustomed to our sins and feel vaguely that it is a pity we go on committing them. But after all, there doesn’t seem to be much chance of our stopping. Our prayers get very languid and washed out, and we think of very little except our food and our amusements.

All the time, the note on which our lives are lived is dropping, dropping, till it is ready to die away into our boots, and we don’t notice just as the choir doesn’t notice when the note drops. We want that sudden little toot of the pitch pipe to pull us together and screw the note of our lives up again. The pitch pipe we use is meditation on Our Lord’s passion.

We should never turn the pages of the gospel as if it were just another old book. With what love did our forefathers in the faith care for the word of God. They went to great lengths to pass it on from generation to generation in all of its integrity. St. Cyprian has written that the reading of scripture is like the foundation for the building up of our hope. It is the means, he said, to consolidate our faith, the food for our charity, and our unerring guide on the way of life.

St. Augustine compares the teachings of scripture to lights shining forth out of the darkness. We can find no better beacon for our journey to the Father. When you open the Holy Gospel, think that what is written there—the words and deeds of Christ—is something that you should not only know but live. Everything, every point that is told there, has been gathered, detail by detail, for you to make it come alive in the individual circumstances of your life. God has called us Catholics to follow him closely. In that holy writing, you will find the life of Jesus, but you should also find your own life there.

In The Forge, St. Josemaria says, “You too, like the Apostle, will learn to ask full of love, ‘Lord, what would you have me do?’ And in your soul you will hear the conclusive answer: the will of God. Take up the gospel every day then, and read it and live it as a definite rule. This is what the saints have done.” This is how we can draw abundant fruit from sacred scripture. We will unite our prayer with the words of the psalmist: “Your word, Lord, is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path” (Ps. 119:105).

There’s a story in the Old Testament that narrates the return of the chosen people to Israel after many years in exile in Babylon. Once they reached Jewish soil, the priest Ezra explains to the people the content of the law that they had forgotten during the years spent in a foreign land. He read from the sacred book, we’re told, from early morning until midday. His audience stood and followed the teaching attentively, and all the people wept.

Their response is a lament compounded with joy as they hear God’s law once more, and with grief also because their previous neglect of the law had brought about their exile. When we gather to take part in the Mass, we stand in an attitude of respect to hear the good news that the gospel always brings us. We have to try to listen to it with the disposition which is attentive, humble, and grateful, because we know that God is speaking to each one of us.

We should hear the gospels, says St. Augustine, as if Our Lord were present and speaking to us. We must not say, “Happy were those who could see him.” For many of those who saw him crucified him, and many of those who have not seen him have believed in him. The very words that came from Our Lord’s lips were written down and kept and preserved for us.

We can only love someone we know. In order to know Christ, many Christians dedicate some minutes each day to reading and meditating on the gospels. This practice leads us by the hand to the knowledge and contemplation of Jesus Christ. It teaches us to see him as the apostles saw him, to observe his reactions, to watch the way he behaved, and to listen to his words, which were always filled with wisdom and authority.

The gospels show him to us on some occasions moved with compassion at the plight of people in misery. At other times, they show him full of understanding for sinners, or firm with the Pharisees who were presenting a false image of their religion. He is full of patience with those disciples who often do not grasp the meaning of his words.

It would be very difficult to love Jesus, to get to know him really well, if we did not frequently hear the word of God, if we did not attentively read part of the gospel each day. That reading, perhaps only lasting a few minutes, nourishes and increases our piety.

At the end of each reading of sacred scripture, the priest says, “This is the gospel of the Lord.” And the faithful reply, “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.” How do we praise him? Our Lord is not satisfied with bare words. “Show me,” he says. He wants to be praised with deeds. We can’t run the risk of forgetting God’s law, of allowing the teaching of the Church to remain in us as little more than truths which are diffuse and inoperative, or of which we have a merely superficial knowledge. For us, this would mean an exile far more devastating than that of Babylon.

God’s greatest enemy in the world is ignorance. The cause, as it were, said Pope John XXIII, the root of all the evils that poison entire nations and perturb many souls. We know well that one great evil that afflicts so many Christians is the lack of doctrinal formation. But what is graver still is that many people are turned astray by error, a sickness even more serious than ignorance.

What a pity if we, because we lack the necessary doctrine, can’t show Christ to them and give them the light they need in order to understand his teaching. At the beginning of the gospel of St. Luke, he tells us that he resolved to write down the life of Christ so that we may know the truth of the teachings we have received. Each of us, according to the unique circumstances of our life, has the obligation to know Christ’s doctrine in depth. That obligation lasts for as long as our path here on earth shall continue.

“The growth of the faith,” said one writer, “and the Christian life, even more in the adverse context with which we are living, needs from us a positive effort and the continuous exercise of our personal freedom.” This effort begins when we have come to see our faith as the most important thing in our lives. From this consideration is born an interest in knowing and practicing all that is contained in our faith in God. This leads us to want to follow Christ throughout the complex and changing context of the reality of daily life.

We should never allow ourselves to think that we have sufficient formation. We should never be satisfied with the amount of knowledge about Jesus Christ and his teaching that we have so far acquired. Love always seeks to know the beloved better. In professional life, doctors or architects or lawyers or whoever, so that they may be good at their profession, never think that they finished studying once they have qualified. They go on learning always. So it is with the Christian. We can apply St. Augustine’s maxim to doctrinal formation: “Did you say enough? You have perished.”

The quality of the instrument—because that’s what we all are, instruments in God’s hands—can improve. It can develop new possibilities. Each day we can love a little more and give better example. But we will not achieve this if our understanding is not continually nourished by sound doctrine.

Frank Sheed in his writing said, “I cannot say how often I have been told all sorts of stories about all sorts of people, but I see that the knowledge of God is the most important thing. The so-called ‘plain man’s faith’—‘I believe it all even though I don’t know what it is’—is not sufficient for a Christian in the world who is confronted each day by confusion and a lack of light regarding Christ’s doctrine.” The only doctrine that saves and his daily encountering ethical problems, both new and old, at work, in family life, and in the environment in which he lives. A Christian needs to have the answers which enable him to counter the attacks of the enemies of the faith and to know how to present them in an attractive way. It takes time and persistence to acquire good formation.

Continuity helps us to understand and to incorporate, to make our own, the doctrine that is presented to our understanding. If we are to achieve this, we have first of all to ensure that the right channels are open for sound doctrine to be transmitted and received. We have to pay attention to our own formation, convinced of the transcendental importance of what we are about. We must make sure that our spiritual reading is in accordance with a well-directed plan. In this way, knowledge builds up gradually in our soul.

We can ask Our Lord that we might have a greater awareness of the fact that his words will not pass away, that they are like seeds in our mind and heart and soul that have to yield an abundant fruit. We can ask Our Lady that we might take very good care each day of acquainting ourselves with those words which can always have an ever-new fragrance and freshness for us.

I thank you my God for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, St. Joseph my father and lord, my guardian angel intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

EW