Ecce Quam Bonum

by Thomas Howard - September 15, 2007

Reprinted with permission.

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"

We hear this bracing sentiment often enough in musical and liturgical settings, most notably in the seraphic motet by Tomás Luis de Victoria, or in the spare sequence of chant. When it is conveyed to us under these modalities, we are easily moved to concur. Ah. Indeed. Such a very good and pleasant thing it is—everyone offering courtesies and good cheer to everyone else, harmony flooding household and workplace tasks and all the common duties of the day. Hey nonny.

But the iridescent bubble pops at about this point. Who among us dwells in such a never-never land? Well, if one is a Christian at all, and has ever groaned out "Thy kingdom come," then surely it is a "not-yet" land. If it is really "never-never," then our faith is unavailing.

But was the psalmist speaking of a stark impossibility there? Had he ever seen anything in the real world that moved him to write down a line like that?

Well, he must have. But perhaps the more piquant question for us is, have we?

It is to be hoped that at least some (most? all?) readers of InsideCatholic.com are able to reply, "In my household." There, if anywhere, lies the kindergarten of caritas, greatly assisted by all the natural affections, thanks be to God. And some happy souls might also be able to answer, "Oddly enough there's a fairly amiable crew in my office. Oh, sparks fly intermittently, one must admit, but we bumble along most of the time." So: At least fugitive glimpses of that "good and pleasant" state of affairs are vouchsafed even in the workplace now and again.

But what really got me thinking about that line from the psalm was the parish. I have been a Catholic for 22 years now, and my wife for twelve. The people in various parishes where we have been are amiable and virtuous people, to all appearances. Most of them, at least the ones at daily Mass, are, like my wife and me, valetudinarians. But do we dwell together in unity? There is absolutely no way of knowing. Why not? Because things rarely get beyond a courteous "good morning," if even that.

After ten years in one parish, we knew the names of perhaps three couples. I do not think there was a notable fault here: My wife and I were not especially seeking bonhomie. Both of us grew up in evangelical Protestant churches and have known enough bonhomie. And I am sure that if one or the other of us had ever staggered and fallen, everyone would have clustered around with anxious offers of help.

It is perhaps not unusual, then, to find Catholics shuffling into Mass and out again, year after year, quite politely, once a week or more, doing their duty dutifully. And perhaps there is a sense in which the angels can see here a trace of that unity of which the psalmist speaks, which is so good and pleasant. Who can say?

The Church is, we are told, the sacrament of Christ in the world. The "sacrament"—that is, His presence, in a mystery. Faith has trained our eyes to see the inauspicious, tasteless wafer as a holy thing. Is this also how I see that bag lady there, and that unclassifiable old person over there?

What do my eyes see anyway?

Thomas Howard is retired from 40 years of teaching English in private schools, college, and seminary in England and America.