THAT HOUR WITH JESUS By: Fr. Armand Nigro, S.J. Jesus had invited me to spend an hour with Him. I was a bit uptight about it, so for days I prepared by boning up on my seminary course in Christology and reread the documents of Vatican II. I glanced over my notes on Longergan's Method of Theology, breezed through another book on process theology. After all, I didn't want to seem too far out of it. I looked through the four Gospels again, too, just in case He referred to something in His past recorded there. And I cleaned up my room (as I faithfully do each year anyway), because He insisted on coming here instead of us meeting in the chapel or on neutral ground. Whe He came I started to genuflect and kiss His hand, but He pulled me up and said, "Can't we just sit down together?" I felt awkward and didn't know how to start the conversation. Reading my mind, He said, "Relax! I just like to be here with you and enjoy the scenery from your window. The river and the skyline look beautiful today." Well, I could hardly believe that. I'm busy and can't afford that waste of time. He must be infinitely busier. And there were so many important things to accomplish during that hour. I really wanted to get the most out of it. But He just sat there in silence with His hand on my shoulder. "Lord," I broke the silence, "where do you stand on the Christological controversy on how humanly conscious You were of Your divinity and nature like before Your death and resurrection?" "What's that got to do with our enjoying the scenery together?" He asked. More silence. I was uneasy. I reached for the book of process theology and said, "He really has something here on the development of consciousness and the..." "What difference does it make," He broke in, "to our time together here? Do you like the way the Father has fashioned those clouds in process and the flowing river?" More silence. I opened the book on liberation theology. "How can your gospel be authentically proclaimed, Lord, to people enslaved by oppressive economic and social structures?" "You haven't forgotten your brother down the hall yet, nor let me heal your anger and unkind judgements of him, have you?" He countered. "That doesn't answer my question, Lord?" "Your question does nothing to our precious time together except mess it up." More silence. "Are you happy with Vatican II and the aftermath of it, Lord?" "Are you?" He returned. "Oh yes...some of the new thinking and changes are really good, but I think some of the liberals have carried things too far and some of the far-righted conservatives are obstructive and not thinking with the Church." "You're impossible," He laughed. "Aren't you happy to spend a few friendly minutes with Me without trying to get some new insights for your lousy...I mean, brilliant...class lecture?" "You're confusing me, Lord. I was taught how to meditate 34 years ago in the novitiate, and I've studied ever since. I'm not exactly new at this, You know." "No, not new...just a bit slow...and dumb. But I love you anyway." That helped, but not much. More silence. I saw a shelf I forgot to dust and a letter that had to be answered and the next class I had to repare. I was getting more restless. "Lord, would You like a glass of juice or something? It would only take a minute to run down and get one..." "And what do I do while you're gone? I prefer we just sit here together." Silence. "So you love Me?" He asked. "Lord, You know everything. You know that I love you." "I liked that when Peter said it," He chided, "but is it really you?" "Honestly," I protested, "honestly...You're not making this hour very easy for me." "You're the one who's making it hard," He replied. "I just like to spend time with you, sharing my Presence with you and assuring you of My love. You don't even have to entertain Me when we are together. Just be, just be there, okay?" More silence. "Who do you say that I am?" He asked, nudging my shoulder. "Well, I'm with the best of Your theologians, Lord, who say that You are...You are the escatological manifestation of the ground of our being. You are the Incarnate Word of God. You are our ultimate kerygma and the full revelation of the Trinitarian, Christological, and ecclesial mysteries of our lives." There was a long pause before He said, "What?" Then He exploded with laughter, rose and raised His arms straight up with His head back roaring. He gave me a big bear hug. "Yes, you're impossible, but I still love you." And He left, still laughing all the way down the hall. I didn't think that was very funny at all. I stood gazing out the window for a few minutes, still confused, before getting back to the important things on a desk full of work. Then I really missed Him. If Jesus came to your house To spend some time with you, If He came unexpected, I wonder what you'd do. Oh, I know you'd give your nicest room To such an honored guest And all the food you'd give to Him Would be the very best. And you would keep assuring Him You're glad to have Him there-- That serving Him in your home Is joy beyond compare. But when you saw Him coming, Would you meet Him at the door With arms outstretched in welcome To your heavenly visitor? Or would you have to change your clothes Before you let Him in Or hide some magazines And put the Bible where they'd been Would you hide your worldly music and put some hymn books out? Could you let Jesus walk right in, or would you rush about? And I wonder - if the Saviour spent a day or two with you, Would you go right on doing, the things you always do? Would you go right on saying, the things you always say? Or would life for you continue as it does from day to day? Would you take Jesus with you everywhere you go? Or would you maybe change your plans for just a day or so? Would you be glad to have Him meet your closest friends? Or would you hope they stay away, until His visit ends? Would you be glad to have Him stay forever on and on? Or would you sigh with great relief when He at last was gone? It might be interesting to know, the things that you would do, If Jesus came in person, to spend some time with you.