The “I am” Within

Homily for the 32nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
Deacon Douglas McManaman

I know a retired pathologist who, in her retirement, collects and sells antiques. One of her colleagues in medicine was a very well known and prestigious neurologist who won many awards of distinction. But he died suddenly of a heart attack, and not too long afterwards, in her favorite Thrift store, she discovered a box full of cheap lucite Doctor of the Year awards and trophies with this doctor’s name engraved on them. She thought to herself: “This widow sure didn’t waste any time unloading this stuff.” 

This is a great image of the vanity of so much of what many people think is important in life. Of course, what was important and lasting in the life of this neurologist is the service to the patients he actually helped, not the awards he received. Hopefully he understood that, and hopefully this is what he lived for, namely the good of others–because human persons are destined to live forever, while lucite awards and trophies eventually end up in a box collecting dust in a thrift store or the dump. 

Everything in this world drifts into the past, and the past is dead. But the present is real; it is alive and open to the unknown future. It is moving, and the ultimate purpose of this life is eternal union within the very heart of the Trinity, who dwells within us in the state of grace. And so this life is supposed to be a preparation for this final union, and it is this purpose that gives ultimate meaning to the present. 

But when a person lives merely for the pleasures of this present world and thinks nothing of the ultimate end, which is eternal union with God and with the communion of saints, the only thing that gives his life any personal meaning is the past he’s lived, a past that is always dead. I very often feel this when I have to preside over funerals and read obituaries in preparation for those funerals, because very often the obituaries make no reference to God, but only to what is past, dead, and gone, such as fleeting enjoyments, traveling, fine cuisine, and sunsets on the beach, etc. Unless what was done in the past has an eternal value–such as a genuine commitment to the good of others in some way, acts of heroic charity, justice, fortitude, or work that has left something for future generations, etc., it is ultimately without enduring meaning. Preparation for what is eternal, living with an eye to eternity, and not simply for those aspects of the present that are destined to drift into the dead past, is what gives this present life an everlasting meaning.

This parable of the Ten Bridesmaids addresses those who were invited to the great feast but did not prepare, that is, did not think ahead. Oil symbolizes the source of light, which is the theological virtue of faith that works through love. The key line in this parable are the words of the Bridegroom: “I do not know you”. For the Jews, knowledge involves union, that is, experience. For the Lord to say to me “I do not know you” means that “I have never experienced any kind of union with you”. In other words, I don’t know the Lord, because I’ve never discovered him, and I’ve never discovered him, because I’ve never really discovered myself. All I know is a false self, not my true self. The false self is made up of characteristics, descriptions, identities that are not lasting but transitory, such as teacher, or husband, wife, brilliant professor, researcher, award winning surgeon, or famous actor, celebrity, wealthy, strong, independent, and so on. These are not permanent, for the scholar can suffer a serious brain injury as a result of a vehicle accident, the teacher will eventually retire, marriage is until “death do us part” and the husband or the wife will eventually die before the other, a wealthy person may lose everything; and celebrities for one generation are practically unknown to another generation. 

That is precisely why some people have a fear of retirement. One of my students back in 2017 asked me if I was afraid to retire. I told her I wasn’t sure. I believe I was slightly apprehensive; after 30 years in the classroom, one can be very attached to that identity, and to be stripped of it over night can be frightening and even traumatic for some. Which is why the spiritual life is so important, because the goal of the spiritual life is to gradually peel away the many descriptive layers that constitute this false and transitory self, which are like layers of clothing. The goal is to get to the true self, the naked self that was you and me when we were born, which is why Christ said: unless you change and become as little children, you will never enter the kingdom of God. My true identity is not “teacher”, much less Deacon–that would mean that I only became my true self 18 years ago, which is absurd. But when we begin to remove these layers, which the aging process begins for us, to help us along, we discover something that was there from the beginning, something that does not change, which is the naked awareness that “I am”. It has no definable and limited identity. When I become acutely aware of this permanent “I” at the core of my being, I discover with me another “I” who was there from the very beginning, the one who revealed his name to Moses on Mount Sinai: I AM WHO I AM (Ex 3, 14). 

My deepest identity is that I come from Him, that I exist in His image, which is “I AM”, and that I did not accomplish anything to earn my existence. I am simply aware that “I am” – which was on loan to every moment of time that I lived – and this is what Jesus revealed himself to be when he was debating the religious leaders in the Temple courts: “Before Abraham was, I AM” (Jn 8, 58), which the Hebrew Scriptures translate as Yahweh – the very name “Jesus” means “Yahweh is salvation”.

We discover God when, in silence, we peel off these false layers that have accrued to us over the years and stand naked and undefined before Him. Then we begin to know ourselves, and we begin to know him. This person might be a faster runner than that person, but how long will that last? Not long at all. In my true naked identity, as an “I” brought into being by God, I am no better than anyone. 

And just as God is Light and Love Itself, who pours Himself out freely and gratuitously, each one of us is called to be a radiant outpouring of light and love to others, without any ulterior motives. I must never look upon another as an “object”, while I am a subjective “I”. Rather, I must see that person as a subject and love must move me towards that person’s very subjectivity, so that I enter that person and see that person as me. Only then do we love our neighbor as ourselves. They must become other selves, not objects. 

It is possible to go through our entire lives without ever discovering who we really are, because we refuse to descend into the “universe within”, through contemplative prayer, and so we cling to our past accomplishments and experiences, and we continue to pile up more and more, which in the end will have less reality than the smoke of a crematorium. But the past is dead, and Christ told us to let the dead bury the dead (Mt 8, 22). Christ gives us the grace to look for him and find him in the deepest regions of the soul, and when we are united to him there, we see his image everywhere in the world, especially in the persons he has created in his image and likeness. He dwells in them, and so if I know him, then I know them. And if they know him, then they know me. Only at that point will a world of justice and peace between all peoples become a reality. Without that spirituality of self-discovery, however, the pattern of domination, competition, “us and them”, superiority and inferiority, etc., will simply continue on a personal and institutional and national level, along with the fear, resentment and unforgiveness it generates.