Covenantal Love is an Everlasting Love

“This one, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; this one shall be called ‘woman,’ for out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.”

Last week I referenced Snow White. Permit me to make another Disney reference. One of my favorite Disney soundtracks is probably Tarzan, and from that, I really like “Strangers Like Me.” That song comes up when Tarzan meets human beings for the first time. All his life, even though he loved them so much, he wrestled with why he was different from the gorillas. And here they are; finally, strangers who look just like him! But he’s particularly drawn to one of them. There’s a beautiful line from the song: “Every gesture, every move that she makes/ Makes me feel like never before/ Why do I have/ This growing need to be beside her?” He sees himself |in a special way | in Jane. But might I propose that Phil Collins wasn’t the first one to sing this song…Adam was the first to sing this song.

When God created man, He knew that it’s not in man’s nature to be alone. So, He starts to create all the other animals, and He brings them all to Adam. But “none proved to be a suitable helper for the man.” “Suitable” in Greek here is actually the word for “like” or “similar.” So, none of the animals were suitable because none were like Adam. That’s not the case with Woman.

The name that Adam gives her—Woman, not Eve, is her name—describes her likeness to him. This is what he says, “This one shall be called ‘woman,’ for [or because] out of ‘her man’ this one has been taken.” This origin “out of her man” tells us two things. 1) Woman is like Adam because instead of being taken from the ground like the other animals, God formed her out of his rib, out of his side. She came from an act of sacrifice.

2) He’s her man, herhusband. He’s not her master; she doesn’t belong to him. After all, this is romance. When Adam saw Woman, he saw himself in her, unlike with the other animals. So he wants to tell her, he wants to sing to her, only one thing: He’s her man; he belongs to her. That’s why when a young man proposes to a woman, he gets down on his knees; he’s showing her that he wants to give her his whole life. And this song that he sings, “Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh,” is so beautiful that God takes those words for Himself to describe His love for us.

This gets into the heart of what a covenant is. A lot of people might hear “covenant,” and will think it’s synonymous with “contract.” “Marriage covenant” and “marriage contract” sound like they’re talking about the same thing. But what is a contract? A contract is an agreement between two parties to exchange goods or services based on a condition.

Let’s say you and I entered a contract that said you agree to buy me ice cream every time I preach a really good homily. The condition exists so that if the condition isn’t met, then the contract doesn’t need to be upheld. So, if I don’t preach a good homily, I don’t get ice cream. (And, of course, I’m absolutely not expecting ice cream after this.) The contract view of marriage would then be something like, “I’ll be patient with you if you’re patient with me.” “I’ll be kind to you if you’re kind to me.” So, if I as a husband, let’s say, fail to meet those terms—if I failed to be patient or kind—then the contract is void.

But Catholics don’t view romance or marriage as a contract. We view it as a covenant. We view it the way Adam views it: I’ll be yours, with no condition. The heart of a covenant is an exchange of persons with no condition. This doesn’t just go back to Adam; it goes all the way back to God. What is it that God speaks to Israel through the centuries? I’m your God, and you’re My people. And since a covenant is an exchange of persons with no conditions, there’s no voiding a covenant. And that’s why our Lord in our gospel today says what he says about marriage.

This is a tough teaching, and for a lot of people, it can be really painful because you and I are people who like justice; we like to receive what’s owed to us. In fact, I know a lot of people in their pain would look at a guy like me and wonder, “Who does this celibate guy think he is telling people about marriage covenants?” But I know about marriage covenants because I’m in one myself. I’m in a covenant with our good God.

Every single Sunday evening for Evening Prayer, I pray Psalm 110: “You are a priest forever.” That’s a covenant. And God is always faithful; I will always be a priest no matter what. The problem in this relationship is me, because I’m not always faithful. Every single time I sin, I’m being unfaithful to God. So, I know what that pain is like because I’m the adulterer. And every time I sin, I have to wrestle with that tension of being a sinner yet being a priest forever. So, please don’t think I’m preaching this to judge any of you, because if I judge you, I have to judge myself first.

So, why risk being a priest knowing that I’m a sinner? Why risk getting married knowing you’re dealing with another fallible human being? Because there’s a beauty in the risk. God trusts me enough in my own brokenness to risk giving me His Precious Body—that one [Eucharist] and this one [Church]—He’s risking it all just for a chance to love me. So too with marriage: Someone trusts you enough even in your brokenness to risk giving you him/herself just for a chance to love you. Because that’s what love does: Love wants to be everlasting. Love wants to last forever.

So, the high calling of the priesthood, the high calling of marriage, and the difficulties that lie in each of those callings are supposed to reflect God’s own love for each one of us. Again, God loved Adam’s words so much that He wanted to make them His own. He looks at you and me, and He sees Himself in us. And so, He sings the same song: “Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.” That’s why St. Paul in our second reading says, “It was fitting that he, God the Father, should make the leader to our salvation, Jesus Christ, perfect through suffering.” Suffering proves God had flesh and bone, so Jesus, God the Son, really could look at you and me, and say, “Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”

That kind of love brings about fruit. Covenantal love, everlasting love, brings about fruit. The love of the priesthood brings about spiritual children in the baptized—that’s why you call me, “Father.” The love of marriage brings about natural children. And the love of Christ for us brings about the Body of Christ.

Thank you to everyone who in your own way supported the hurricane relief efforts, whether it was bringing water bottles to the school, helping Fr. Richard bring $4000 worth of supplies to Hendersonville, or donating monetary gifts. These corporal works of mercy are exactly why they’re called “corporal works”: They build up the Body of Christ in love. And you’re giving all of these precious resources and gifts with no condition; thank you for your love.

And I know many of you want to help in more ways. But the most important way you can help is to pray. Right here, right now, offer this sacrifice of the Mass with me. The holy Mass builds up the Body of Christ more than any other work, because it is Christ Himself giving us His Body. So, your prayers mean something here. Here, we have an opportunity to see ourselves in Christ; here, we pray that Divine Love itself descend upon ordinary bread and wine to become the Heart of Jesus Himself; and here we pray that when we receive Jesus, we become so united in the one Body with Him and each other, that we can say both to Christ and each other, “Bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh.”

May we be a sign for each other—whether it’s my priesthood, your marriage, or our diocesan Church community—may we be a sign for each other of that everlasting love that God desires and has for each one of us.