Smells Like Jesus
"Is he not the one they are trying to kill?...Could the authorities have realized that he is the Christ?” - John 7:25-26
Sometimes at Mass, there is a certain “aroma.” It is harsh, foul, and uncomfortable. And I can’t ignore it. The source? A homeless man, who is Catholic and a frequent participant at mass. This gentleman has been a part of our parish for years, and perhaps an even more stable fixture than the rest of us who come and go as we can fit Mass into our lives. When he is there, I know.
On a recent Sunday, he gathered his sleeping bag and backpack during the Eucharistic Prayer. Instead of leaving right away, he walked down the center aisle a bit and watched as the presider elevated the host at the consecration. When the man had finished reverencing the Eucharist, he slowly walked down the center aisle. In his wake, he left a trail of smell that lingered long after he was gone. By the world’s standards, this man has nothing. Several times in the past few weeks I have returned in prayer to that moment of grace. When I looked at him, gazing at Christ being made present on the altar, I knew that Christ was also being made present in my midst.
In today’s Gospel, we hear about further suspicion and attempts on Jesus’ life. The people in Jerusalem question whether he really could be the Christ, unable to make sense of the prophecies that are unfolding in their midst. Who are you? Where do you come from? What does this mean? And while it is easy to blame the residents of Jerusalem 2,000 years ago for “missing” that Christ was present to them in the flesh, I realize how often I am missing Christ in the flesh before me. All around me, people are lashing out at each other in the face of loss–loss of control, security, purpose, and hope. I myself have been hurt, humbled and found myself asking, “Where is Christ?” I am not finding Him where I think He should be…
And then I remember the homeless man, who has nothing but his faith in the risen Lord to keep him warm at night. His smell is uncomfortable and unsettling, and forces my attention away from my own problems. Sometimes Jesus comes in consolation, in the “sweetness” of life, but sometimes Jesus comes in the mess of life and challenges us to look beyond ourselves. As Holy Week draws closer, I hope I have the same courage to stand in the center aisle, with my eyes fixed on the One who loves.
Jen Coito