On Jesus's Departure, βαστάζειν, and Unity as Glory

Original Artwork for the Pasadena Eucharistic Revival by Rachel Eligon

As we celebrate today’s Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity, the Gospel according to John draws us into deeper prayer with these three simple points: the result of Jesus’s departure, what it means to bear the Spirit of Truth, and the unity of the Trinity as the glory of God. 

Just a few weeks ago, when we celebrated the Ascension of Jesus, the Gospel of Luke highlights “As He blessed them, He parted from them” (Luke 24:51). This marks an interesting relationship between Jesus’s departure and His blessing. “As” as a comparative adverb, the same one that might haunt us in the Our Father prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,” which parallels the forgiveness we would receive compared to the forgiveness we give to others. In this case, one might be left not haunted but confounded by the Lord’s separation from His apostles and earthly life as a blessing. How could the apostles, who followed Jesus for years, knew Him as a friend, and watched Him die and rise look to His departure as a consolation? Jesus, the One who says, “I did not tell you this from the beginning because I was with you” (John 16:4) referring to His imminent withdrawal from life as they knew it and subsequent coming of the Holy Spirit, offers a hopeful yet harrowing word of consolation summed simply yet mysteriously as, I’m leaving, but you won’t be alone. It is an understatement to say that His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, His ways higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8-9). 

He also mentions that He has much more to tell them but that “they cannot bear it now” (John 16:12). The verb bear in the Greek is βαστάζειν (bastaszein) and is found throughout both the Old and New Testaments. There are three in particular that might better illustrate what it meant to Jesus to bear the Spirit of Truth. First, like a pregnancy: “Blessed the womb that bore you!” (Luke 11:27) If one bears the Spirit of Truth like a pregnancy, it would create stretch marks and hold life. It would require receptivity and a total gift of the body. It would be a part of the process that has finality in birth. Second, like a cross. “Jesus, who carried the cross Himself to Golgotha” (Jn 19:17). To St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Jesus revealed a painful wound on His shoulder from carrying the cross, from bearing it. And St. Padre Pio was known as having that very wound as his stigmata. It is an interesting perspective to think about how one might bear the Spirit of truth like a cross. I think of an old saying I heard as a Catholic high school student, “The truth is going to set you free, but first it will make you miserable.” Of course, one can and should rest on Truth Himself as a source of consolation and let the utter sweetness of the voice of truth guide all things, all thoughts, and all works. Are we not ready to hear the “much more” Christ has to share because we cannot yet carry the weight of that Truth? Can we not bear it because our hearts are simply not strong enough yet? Which brings us to our final point: to bear the Spirit of Truth like in Revelation 2:2, “you have demonstrated your patience and borne hardship… for my name’s sake, and have not grown weary.” Ultimately, the hardship, the weight, and the sacrifice is for His name’s sake. Only in Christ is suffering answered with hope, only in Christ does death have no sting (1 Corinthians 15:55). To bear the Spirit of Truth even unto death is a challenge for even the most devout of Christians. How often do we grumble at what love demands? 

I think it is interesting that Pope Leo XIV’s papal motto is "In Illo uno unum” or “In the One, we are one.” This oneness is straight from the Rule of St. Augustine, who urges us to look at ourselves and others as reflections of God. As we adore the Most Holy Trinity, as we let our hearts gaze on our one God in three persons, may we find consolation, rest, and hope in Him. Let us especially open our ears to hearing the “much more” Jesus would like us to hear from the Holy Spirit, with whom He is One. Let us remember our dignity and the dignity of all as beloved children of the Father. May our unity with Truth Himself be borne like a pregnancy and carried like a cross all for His name’s sake. May we see Christ glorified as Christ crucified, where His throne was the Cross, His crown was of thorns, and in Whose wounds we see our healing. 

“A praise of glory is a soul of silence that remains like a lyre under the mysterious touch of the Holy Spirit so that he may draw from it divine harmonies.” -St. Elizabeth of the Trinity 

Prayer to the Trinity (St. Elizabeth of the Trinity) 

O my God, Trinity whom I adore, help me to become utterly forgetful of myself so that I may establish myself in you, as changeless and calm as though my soul were already in eternity. Let nothing disturb my peace nor draw me forth f from you, O my unchanging God, but at every moment may I penetrate more deeply into the depths of your mystery. Give peace to my soul; make it your heaven, your cherished dwelling-place and the place of your repose. Let me never leave you there alone, but keep me there, wholly attentive, wholly alert in my faith, wholly adoring and fully given up to your creative action.

O my beloved Christ, crucified for love, I long to be the bride of your heart. I long to cover you with glory, to love you even unto death! Yet I sense my powerlessness and beg you to clothe me with yourself. Identify my soul with all the movements of your soul, submerge me, overwhelm me, substitute yourself for me, so that my life may become a reflection of your life. Come into me as Adorer, as Redeemer and as Saviour.

O Eternal Word, utterance of my God, I want to spend my life listening to you, to become totally teachable so that I might learn all from you. Through all darkness, all emptiness, all powerlessness, I want to keep my eyes fixed on you and to remain under your great light. O my Beloved Star, so fascinate me that I may never be able to leave your radiance.

O Consuming Fire, Spirit of Love, overshadow me so that the Word may be, as it were incarnate again in my soul. May I be for him a new humanity in which he can renew all his mystery.

And you, O Father, bend down towards your poor little creature. Cover her with your shadow, see in her only your beloved son in who you are well pleased.

O my "Three", my All, my Beatitude, infinite Solitude, Immensity in which I lose myself, I surrender myself to you as your prey. Immerse yourself in me so that I may be immersed in you until I go to contemplate in your light the abyss of your splendour!