"Observe or Engage?": A Reflection on the Psalm for August 26th, 2018: Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time

Psalm 34

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

I will bless the Lord at all times; his praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul makes its boast in the Lord; let the humble hear and be glad. 

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their cry. The face of the Lord is against evildoers, to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth. 

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears, and rescues them from all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit. 

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous one, but the Lord rescues him from them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them will be broken. 

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

Evil brings death to the wicked, and those who hate the righteous will be condemned. The Lord redeems the life of his servants; none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned. 

​Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.

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I lean towards being an introvert — someone who prefers calm, minimally stimulating environments and who requires time alone to rest and recharge after being in large groups for extended periods of time. When I have too much to process, I either retreat into myself or observe what is happening around me — but it can take most of my energy to willingly engage.

As a child, I regularly attended mass and Sunday School, but I rarely participated actively. I was typically either uncomfortable, nervous, or I didn’t feel individually called upon. My mind processed information analytically, but my heart was passive and non-expectant. I felt God could not possibly be interested in my life. I had no concept of what it would be like to experience His goodness personally.

I had a friend in Junior High who had attended Steubenville Atlantic — a conference where Catholic youth gather to learn about and experience their faith anew. She invited me along, and told me that it had been a fun, exciting time. I could see that she was sincere, and I was intrigued by the invitation, but I said, ‘no’. Her description of the event — crowds of people, loud music, invitations to expressive forms of worship — didn’t appeal to me. I was convinced that I wouldn’t enjoy myself, and fearful that others would judge me if I participated.

Two years later, something shifted in me and I decided to give it a try. My friend was thrilled! When we arrived at the conference, I found it intense and overstimulating in some ways, but not more than I could handle. The talks were extremely engaging and I was amazed at the speakers’ enthusiasm and authentic joy. They knew something that I didn’t… they evidently had experiential knowledge of God. I became hungry for that sort of experience, and I decided to engage. I accepted invitations to pray and asked God to reveal His love to me. I genuinely wanted to know Him, if that was possible, and I wanted to understand what everyone was so excited about.

On the second night of the conference, we were led into Eucharistic Adoration. At the altar I saw Christ — in mysterious form, under the appearance of bread, and in humility. I had never felt God so intensely before. He was so close to me. In a moment of intimate silence, I heard the words, “I did this, for you”. Not audibly, but they didn’t seem to be fully my own thoughts. My eyes were drawn to the crucifix that hung above the monstrance, and tears fell. After years of attending mass, I’d never believed or understood the reality of His love for me… but suddenly it was clear and known to me. I perceived His love, and my little heart — that was so afflicted with fears of being unlovable, unseen, unimportant — was transformed by the knowledge that Jesus had sacrificed everything so that I may be saved and have life to the full. I couldn’t be a spectator any longer, and my desire grew to experience His love more fully. And for that I knew I’d have to be all in.

The next morning, I celebrated mass. I didn’t passively ‘attend’ as if it were a boring high school assembly that was mandatory and dry. I tasted and saw the one who had spoken to my heart the night before, and He helped me to see His goodness in a more profound way. Sometimes I get distracted, and I forget His goodness, but He and the hunger are always present. He is typically quick to remind me that He wants to provide for my needs, and that He is always available to me so that I can taste and see that my Lord is good.

​Kendra Chisholm

Hungry (Falling on my Knees) - ​Joy Williams
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