A Reflection from “How to Be His” by Fr. Ignatius Schweitzer and Fr. Jesse Maingot with Dan Burke

And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love.

—William Blake

St. Catherine of Siena envisions the Eucharist as a bright, burning Sun in our midst, blazing with an intensity beyond the sun in the sky. Ponder this as you come before our Eucharistic Lord in the chapel. It is a bit of a miracle that you are not scorched and burned up coming so close to the divine Sun. It is the gift of the veil of faith in this life that William Blake’s words above so eloquently capture. The God of all majesty became a little baby and a little Host for us, that we might draw near to Him and grow in intimate love of Him through the veil of faith before He is manifested in full splendor in Heaven and we are blessedly consumed by those blazing beams of love for all eternity.

God is a blazing fire for St. Catherine. It is not hard therefore to understand why she resorts to the image of the sun to describe the Trinity. She sees the sun’s brightness as a metaphor for the Father, while the sun’s color suggests something of the Son, and the sun’s heat corresponds to the Holy Spirit. Like all images of the Trinity, the image is limited and inexact, but St. Catherine uses it to grapple with the mystery of God as three-in-one. God draws close to us in Jesus and the Eucharist so that we now have the bright, shining sun blazing forth in the chapel with us. Catherine hears God the Father say of Jesus, “His body is indeed a sun, for it is one thing with me, the true Sun.”

In contemplative prayer in the presence of the Eucharist, we open our souls to the sun like spring flowers to receive life, light, and the warmth of love from this sun. Catherine hears from God that we ourselves then take on the qualities of the sun: “I told you that those who were perfect took on the qualities of the sun. They gave the light and warmth of loving charity to their neighbors, and because of this warmth they bore fruit and caused virtue to spring up in the souls of their subjects.” We come into the presence of the Sun, soaking in God’s rays of love, and we leave the chapel, as is commonly said, sunburned. Drawing close to the Sun, we are also made bright, full of light, and burning with charity.

The Sienese saint sees in the Eucharistic heart of Jesus a most sublime glory. A few days ago we explored the gaze of Jesus on us with St. Manuel. St. Catherine helps us, however, develop an awareness of the potential of our own gaze. How do we best gaze upon the Lord in the Eucharist? St. Catherine guides us forward. Catherine says in a letter, “Contemplate the truth in the abyss of divine charity.” Try to see everything more in the light of God’s love. Over time we can come to see God’s love smiling through all things. We grow in this as we gaze upon our Eucharistic Lord. Catherine gives this a more personalist tenor in another letter: “Gaze into the eye of the divine charity with which God looked on his creatures before he created us. And so He still looks on us…. I want you to be engulfed and set on fire in Him, constantly gazing into the gentle eye of His charity, for then you will love what He loves, and hate what he hates.”

We gaze into the eye of divine charity precisely as we gaze with faith upon the person of Jesus in the Eucharist. We look into the eyes of our Lord, and we see His love burning for us and for others. These are the eyes of Jesus that John the Beloved gazed into and described as “like a flame of fire” (Rev. 1:14). And these are the same eyes we get to gaze into as we perceive the personal presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. Gazing into the gentle eye of His charity, we will begin to see and love like He does. The Eucharist is like a blazing sun, an immense fire of love, not simply as an abstract reality but as the personal presence of Jesus with His gaze full of a personal love for us.

It is as if God continues to plead with us through St. Catherine: “O dearest daughter, open wide your mind’s eye and look into the abyss of my charity. There is not a person whose heart would not melt in love to see, among all the other blessings I have given you, the blessing you receive in this sacrament. And how, dearest daughter, should you and others look upon this mystery and touch it?” Catherine is introducing us here to what we could call a spirituality of the Eucharistic gaze. How do we do it? What is it like to gaze into the eyes of Jesus in the Eucharist, into the eyes of divine love?

Catherine notes that with our bodily eyes we just see simple bread, but the eyes of faith look more deeply and perceive the living Lord, true God and true man. The soul develops a sort of instinct of faith, a sensitivity of soul through the perception of faith and connaturality of charity. It is worth quoting St. Catherine at length in her own words:

What tastes and sees and touches this sacrament? The soul’s sensitivity. How does she see it? With her mind’s eye, so long as it has the pupil of holy faith. . . . How is this sacrament touched? With the hand of love. . . . The hand of love touches through faith, confirming as it were what the soul sees and knows spiritually through faith. How is this sacrament tasted? With holy desire. The body tastes only the flavor of bread, but the soul tastes me, God and human. . . . So you see, you must receive this sacrament not only with your bodily senses but with your spiritual sensitivity, by disposing your soul to see and receive and taste this sacrament with affectionate love.

We dispose our souls to see and taste the Lord with faith and affectionate love through our habitual practice of adoration. We cultivate all this through recognizing the personal presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, speaking to Him as a friend and listening in silence. Yes, God is a deep Sea of Love, a blazing Sun of Fire, but He is these things as the personal God. We gaze at Him who gazes at us. His eyes are like a flame of fire (Rev. 1:14). As one might lose himself in the eyes of a beloved, so we lose ourselves gazing into the Sacrament of Love and the gentle eye of divine charity. Our eyes too can become aflame with fire.

Let Us Pray: O God, You are a consuming fire! Stir up in me the desire to draw forth from Your Eucharistic heart all the graces I need to grow in holiness. Help me gaze on You with greater devotion and perception. Help us to discover in Your Eucharistic gaze a sea of love and peace. Enlighten me, Lord, to look into the depths of Your heart. With a simple gaze of love, let me be so fascinated by You to be drawn out of myself into a life completely lived for You and others.

Today’s Reflection

Was there a particular line or idea from the writings of St. Catherine that caught your attention?

Do you see the Eucharist “with the pupils of holy faith”?

How is this different from looking with physical eyes?

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