This past April, a total solar eclipse generated great excitement as it crossed parts of North America. Millions of people looked to the sky that day to see the moon blocking some or all of the sun. But except for a few moments in the “path of totality,” an eclipsed sun is dangerous to the eye. We should never look directly at the sun, because its ultraviolet rays can damage the cornea and retina. Special sunglasses are needed to view what otherwise could not be seen.
In the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds, we profess our faith in an invisible God, the creator of all things. Like the sun, which is too bright to be viewed directly, the triune God dwells “in unapproachable light” (1 Tim 6:16). Both the Bible and the liturgy speak of the glory of God that exceeds what any eye can see or any heart can fully apprehend.
A god who merely reveled in his own glory would not have revealed himself to his creatures — that is, if he bothered to create anything or anyone else. But the God who is love has revealed himself to us. Indeed, he has called us out of the darkness of sin and error into his own wonderful light (see 1 Pt 2:9). That is why God raised up the chosen people and gave them the law and prophets. That is why God sent his only Son to assume our humanity and be our savior: to accustom our eyes of faith to the light of his glory, a light too bright for us to gaze upon directly.
God’s glory shone brightly in the truth of Jesus’ words, in the goodness of his deeds, in his power over sin and death. On Mount Tabor, the glory of God shone with blinding brilliance on Jesus’ face, the same glory he would manifest after his resurrection. For the Lord not only revealed God’s glory in our human flesh, but, sharing our humanity, he delivered us from sin and death through his cross and resurrection.
And did this revelation of glory simply disappear when Jesus ascended into heaven? Not at all. In the Church, the Lord left us ways and means to see him and to experience his saving love. The sacraments are signs that effect what God in his goodness and glory wants to do for us, and they are the means by which the Lord’s will is accomplished.
The sacramental signs of bread and wine reveal the true presence of the Lord yet conceal the fullness of his glory, which as yet we cannot see.
Sacramental signs are like those special eclipse sunglasses. They reveal the brightness of God’s glory and the warmth of his love — but they do not give us face-to-face vision of God, a vision that “eye has not seen and ear has not heard” (1 Cor 2:9). As St. Paul says elsewhere, “At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.” (1 Cor 13:12). How good God is to accommodate us!
At the heart of the Church’s sacramental life is the Eucharist, “the source and summit of the Christian life” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1324). At the Last Supper, Jesus took bread and wine, and gave it to his disciples, saying, “This is my body. … This is my blood.” In the Mass, the signs of bread and wine are changed to become Christ truly present, body, blood, soul and divinity. We see bread and wine, but our eyes of faith behold the crucified and risen Savior. The sacramental signs of bread and wine reveal the true presence of the Lord yet conceal the fullness of his glory, which as yet we cannot see.
When we are properly disposed and receive our Lord in the Eucharist, and when we contemplate his presence in Eucharistic adoration, our eyes of faith are better able to behold the Lord of Glory crucified for our salvation. And the light that we behold shines in us and through us more brightly, attracting others to the Eucharistic mystery, until that day when we behold the glory of the Lord with unveiled faces.




