The Paradox of Human Desire

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ood is one of the greatest symbols of the Christian life. Just as material food sustains our bodies, spiritual food is needed to nourish our souls. Food, then, is both physical and spiritual. Food is good when it contains the building blocks of life in all its forms. Food consists of three main macronutrients: carbohydrates, protein, and fat. They are considered essential, i.e., the human mortal body either cannot make them or produce enough. Together with other nutrients, the body needs them to furnish energy and sustain growth and vital physiological processes. As human beings, we also need food for our spiritual life. For spiritual food, we take into consideration not only quantity but the quality of spiritual nutrients. For the physical body, we opt for complex carbs over simple sugars, lean proteins to support muscle and repair, and healthy fats for heart health. What are the top three "spiritual foods" to opt for? First on the list is the Eucharist. In the Christian faith, the Eucharist is the central spiritual food, where we receive Jesus Christ Himself in the form of bread and wine, which are trans-corporeal. This food nourishes the human soul, unites us with Christ, and empowers us to live in His love and grace. Pope Francis writes in Laudato Si' about this food, not only as a complete spiritual meal but as cosmic. "In the Eucharist, creation finds its greatest exaltation. God, in the mystery of the Incarnation, chose to become part of the material world, giving himself as food for his creatures. The Eucharist is an act of cosmic love, joining the whole universe in praise of God and motivating us to care for creation (Laudato Si’ 236).

The second food is the Word of God. Scripture is a powerful source of spiritual nourishment. As Jesus said, "Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God" (Mt 4:4). Reading, meditating on, and applying the Word deepens our relationship with God and gives us strength and wisdom. People go on retreat to ruminate on the Word. The word ruminate comes from the Latin verb ruminari, which means "to chew the cud." This originally referred to the way ruminant animals, like cows, chew, swallow, and then regurgitate their food to chew it again, a process known as “rumination.” Over time, ruminate came to be used metaphorically in English to mean "to think deeply" or "to ponder" over something, much like mentally "chewing over" an idea repeatedly. This reflects the contemplative, thorough nature of "chewing on" the Word of God to relish it more fully.

Pope Benedict XVI, said "in the Eucharistic liturgy, in which the 'ecclesia,' that is, the community of the baptized, come together in a unified way to listen to the Word of God and nourish themselves with the Body and Blood of Christ. From these two tables the Church of living stones is built up in truth and charity and is internally formed by the Holy Spirit transforming herself into what she receives, conforming herself more and more to the Lord Jesus Christ. She herself, if she lives in sincere and fraternal unity, in this way becomes the spiritual sacrifice pleasing to God" (Pope Benedict XVI, Angelus Address, November 9, 2008, Feast of the Dedication of Saint John Lateran Basilica).

But one food is still needed, i.e., the person who acts on the Word. We hear in the Gospel (Mt 7:21-27), "And everyone who listens to these words of mine but does not act on them will be like a fool who built his house on sand. The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and buffeted the house. And it collapsed and was completely ruined.”

People often receive Holy Communion with lukewarm hearts and fail to act on the Word. All too often we approach the Eucharist out of mere habit, which is akin to an impoverished and sacrilegious communion. We say “Amen” with our lips, but not with our heart and soul.

Physical food, when partaken, is naturally transformed into beneficial components for the good of the organism. Our body does such physiological processes as digestion, absorption, and utilization of food, which are essential to proper nutrition. We are asked to follow the ways of ruminant animals. They have four different stomachs that help with proper digestion.

What can we do if we find out that we have lukewarm hearts? St Ignatius of Loyola would give this answer: Desire! We must long to have the spiritual appetite. In The Weight of Glory, CS Lewis says, “God makes no appetite in vain,” and so are our desires. All human desires start as conflicted, but like a plant, it must be allowed to grow first before it is pruned. This is the reason why our desire must be recognized before any purification process can take place. In the life of St Ignatius of Loyola, it was a rollercoaster ride. To some extent, his desires brought him to the point of despair until, gradually, he began to learn the discernment of spirits. He found the desire that led him to fall in love with this Jesus, whom he realized was the one who first fell in love with him, a God who desired him more than Ignatius could imagine. This is the most important feature of Ignatian spirituality that God's will can often be discovered in our great desires. We probably have experiences of dealing with our desires, like walking on eggshells, because much of Christian spirituality presumes that we could break things with our desires. We were taught to avoid sin by not desiring this or that. We grew up not feeling desirable enough. We sin not because we follow our desires, but because we have prejudged our desires to be unworthy, and worst, our desires are disordered, that one must hide and not actualize. Many experts say for Ignatius, the problem was not desiring too much; it was desiring too little. No wonder, when we approach a mystery so desirable like the Holy Eucharist, we fail to recognize a God desiring to give to us the gift of Himself. We approach the Eucharist desensitized. So this God who is infinitely desirable is met with lukewarm hearts.

St Ignatius takes to heart the mystery behind every human desire, which is already acting on the Word of God. He applies this especially in the context of the Spiritual Exercises. He encourages by saying that the duration of time it takes to enter into a prayer period is not important as long as the intended goal is achieved, i.e., “To have God always before one’s eyes.” Even the simple desire to fix a person’s gaze solely on one thing would already be considered a big grace—a strong foothold—within a single formal prayer period, let alone to find God. The paradox of desire is this: Desire to fix your gaze on God more than to find Him. The more you let go, the more you let God be greater. For me this is the true meaning of Magis, letting go and letting God in every desire. Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ