This powerful man commanded attention as he stood up, raised his glass, and extolled the beauty and virtues of his beloved bride. His praises were in the tradition and manner of the Song of Songs: You are wholly beautiful, my love, and without a blemish (4:7). How beautiful you are! How charming, my love, my delight! (7:7).

Actually the groom was a Middle Eastern “prince”, Archbishop Joseph Raya. And the bride was… me!

Now remember: I was a young, new, insecure applicant, so this dream was from another world than my waking reality! I awoke, bathed in love, with a sense of belonging, of being worthy because of the love of my spouse.

Of course I knew that the bishop represented Christ, my Divine Lover. The bishop had merely “lent” his face for the One whose Face I cannot see. But it had been so real, I had to share the dream with him.

At that time, I was working in the kitchen, so when I brought the archbishop his lunch, I burst out with my story. When I had finished, he took my hands in his and proclaimed, “Yes! You are my favorite!” One of the other staff at the table complained, “Bishop, how can you say that? You know it’s not true!”

And she was right. The bishop didn’t know me very well.

But he insisted, “She is my favorite.” And on some level, we both understood.

If each one of us could see with the eyes of God, we would see ourselves as the beloved bride at the eternal wedding banquet. For we are each the favorite one of the Lord, and he looks at each of us with such tender love, that he can’t help but sing, you ravish my heart, my sister, my bride; you ravish my heart with a single one of your glances (4:9). How delicious is your love; more delicious than wine! (4:10).

Now, Jesus is not blind or living in unreality; he knows our faults and sins. But his divine eyes see deeper: His love clothes us with divine beauty.

No wonder Bishop Raya was the groom in my dream This was his call in life—to teach us all to see with the eyes of God, who clothes us with his worth and divinity.

Whether it was to those suffering in the Holy Land, or to the oppressed African-Americans in the U.S. South whose dignity was attacked by the ignorant, or to an insecure applicant, his cry was the same: Stand up! Know your dignity, your worth, your call to be divinized!

Let me tell you the story of “Chris” (not his real name). When Chris first arrived at Madonna House, he was a gangly, pathologically shy young man. His very posture was a constant whisper of apology—head down, stooped shoulders, no substance on his frame.

From the first moment he caught sight of Chris, Bishop Raya zeroed in. “Stand up,” he bellowed, “Stand straight! Stand in your dignity!”

In fact, pretty much every time the two met, this same command would be thrown out to him. To tell you the truth, I felt a little sorry for Chris and half expected him to bolt out of Madonna House.

But he stayed for months. Obviously, he could feel the bishop’s eyes of love on his deepest being, and he responded. As Jesus had cried in a loud voice to Lazarus, dead in the tomb, to come forth alive in God, so he called to Chris through the bishop.

Chris didn’t suddenly emerge as did Lazarus. It was a gradual coming out—first a furtive peek, then a quick smile, finally, a slow and steady filling out and straightening up. Through Bishop Raya’s love which radiated Christ’s love, Chris came to believe that he was indeed loved and called.

He eventually became a priest, an “alter-Christus.”

Bishop Raya was a prince of a man, powerful in his human selfhood, as well as in the Church. Easy for him to know his dignity, you might think.

Well, not so easy as old age claimed his capacity to see, hear, walk, and even talk. Where then, was his dignity? As he painfully lost the outer cloak of beauty and power, the inner garment of God’s intimate love became more manifest. And we could give to him what he had so lavishly poured on us, through the years—a reflection of God’s love for him in his poverty.

Two nights before the bishop died, Gerard Lesage (co-director of St. Mary’s) and I paid him a visit. Four of the staff were leaving, after singing to him for two hours, clothing him with songs of God’s faithful love. As the bishop dozed, Gerard and I could each take his hands in ours—a garment of prayer.

As we left, one of his faithful caretakers, Mary Yantha, came for the night, draping a mantle of loving presence over him.

Two days later, the Divine Bridegroom himself wrapped his beloved Joseph in his own Beauty and Love, and called him to the heavenly wedding feast.

For see, winter is past… Arise, my beloved, my beautiful one, and come (Song of Songs 2:10, 13).