I see the Cross

When I see him, beautiful soul, I behold the Cross bathed in Glory. I see love, pure, unsullied. He, truly and wonderfully made in His image and likeness, reflecting the agony of the Messiah and becoming one with it. His life, an offering of one battered self in union with the Suffering Servant, for redemption.

God so often chooses those whom the world deems too weak and not good enough. He calls them by name, inviting them to become the hands and the feet of Christ in this world that so desperately needs Him. He bids them to bring food to the starving; to be light in the darkness; to bring about His kingdom by transforming hearts and minds. And they answer, Here am I.

My brother is a visible contradiction to this world that refuses to see and  tragically cannot recognize the perfect beauty of the Cross. He, with stammering speech, unsteady gait, ears that don't hear, understands how suffering can lift us, make us like Christ. Often patently moved by the anguish of others, his compassion is singular, immense. Having been misunderstood, he understands. Having been outcast, he welcomes. Having been ridiculed, he exalts. Having been wounded, he heals. He opens his heart wide and embraces the afflicted, the troubled, the brokenhearted. This is the man I know, although some may only see a body deformed, hear deficient speech and wonder if he is indeed capable. They may speculate, "is he good enough?"  But didn't God choose Noah, who got drunk; Abraham, who was too old; Moses, who stuttered and lost his temper, Peter who denied Him; Thomas, who doubted Him - to name only a few? Like the twelve who walked with Him, and the long succession of holy men to follow, God chose my brother to be one of His own priests. He has been empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring Christ to others, to be Christ to others - in persona Christi - despite his impediments. Rather, Wisdom uses his imperfection and nails it right to that Cross, so that he, too, may draw others to the hope and the splendor of the Resurrection when Christ will raise our mortal bodies and make them like his own in glory ... and every tear will be wiped away. (From The Roman Missal, Catholic Book Publishing Co., New York, 1985).