Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

This coming September, my sister, Melinda and I, will celebrate the 5th anniversary of our mother's entrance into eternal glory.  With grateful memories on this Mother's Day, I share with you the homily that I gave at her funeral mass.  We love you, Mom!

My sisters and brothers, it is immeasurably comforting for me and my sister that so many have gathered this lovely morning here in this beautiful Basilica as we surround our mother, Bertha, with the love and prayers of God’s people.  We never live our faith in isolation and our journey to the Lord is never made alone. We are always accompanied by that great “cloud of witnesses” who support us “…. until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world lies hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done.”

After nearly 95 years, mom’s work is now done and with the lively hope that should always animate the hearts of those who truly believe in the Lord of life, we firmly believe the greatest chapter in her long life has now begun.

In 1984, our father died after a long and painful journey through congestive heart failure at the all too early age of 69.  While Melinda and I were understandably devastated at the loss of our father, we worried most about mom who had depended so much on him and during his declining health and had been his primary care giver. She was unfailingly devoted to him just as she was when our family brought into our home dad’s mother and mom’s own mother as their earthly journey’s were coming to an end.  There would be no talk of sending them to any antiseptic facility.  No, their final years and months would be in a home, our home now made their own. 

After caring for so many folks in declining illness, what would mom now do?  How would she fair?  Would the crushing grief of losing her husband of 43 years plunge her into despair?  No, my friends.  After mourning the loss of Dad, mom early on told us, “You know, one door has closed but another has opened for me!”  And so with the quintessentially characteristic hope that so marked mom’s incredible life, a new journey began for her during these past 30 years.  A journey of living life in such a buoyant and hoped filled manner that at times, Melinda and I would look at one another and say, “Doesn’t she ever slow down, or get tired of shopping!”  

Literally living the motto of Blessed Serra, “Always forward, never looking back, siempre adelante, nunca atras….” Mom traveled the world with her friends, became an accomplished painter, was an avid bowler, cultivated and took great pride in her gardens, kept up with the daily news, often calling me – the consummate “newsaholic” with a scoop, never missed her Wednesday hair appointment except for the one four days before she died, knew the aisles of Marshall’s like the back of her hand, and all the while relishing opportunities to prepare meals that became legendary. Whether it was her marvelous Mexican food without a recipe in sight, sushi, lox’s and bagels, lasagna or plain old American pot roast – it was always a “catholic” – with a small “c” culinary experience!  And all of it just seemed effortless for mom, most especially when she was doing it for others.

Mom was already in her 80’s when I was appointed here as Rector to this Jewel of the California Missions in 2003. She loved this assignment because somehow, she felt that it made her “Queen” of the Mission!  Having lived in our suburban home in Granada Hills for over 50 years and surviving two devastating earthquakes, Melinda and I thought for sure that she would never leave her familiar surroundings. But then came Christmas that year and as she was enjoying a “very light” scotch and soda before our Christmas dinner, she told us that she had an announcement to make. Mel and I looked up and mom simply said, “You know, I’m out of here!  I want to move to Orange Country – to Leisure World!”  And folks, by the summer of 2004, the house was sold, her new home acquired, a bevy of new friends were secured and, as she would say, the happiest ten years of her life began. 

Marvelous and grateful memories in life, sometimes have a way of filtering out the moments of challenge and difficulty.  Mom had her fair share of these – surviving breast cancer, the death of her parents, spouse, nine siblings and countless dear friends.  For mom, there was indeed a time to mourn and be sad, but far more was there a time to be filled with the hope and promise that so characterized her life of faith.  While mom’s faith was as deep and unshakeable at the foundations of this great Retablo, she was not a terribly pious person (like mother, like son!)  She disdained the “perpetually pinched look of the Catholic Taliban for whom the milk bottle in life always seems half empty.”  Mom’s faith was born of the confidence that was rooted in knowing that she was immeasurably loved by the Lord of her life – and no torment would ultimately touch or destroy that incandescent spirit.  It is said that joy and laughter are the infallible signs of the presence of God in one’s life.  If that be the case, mom undoubtedly overflowed with godly presence.  As an artist she was charmed by the beauty of God’s creation, she relished the company of others, especially my brother priests and the few bishops I have come to know along the way that she too got to know. Bishop Vann, thank you for your special attentiveness to her during your brief time as our new bishop.  From the flowers you sent her following your first meeting to your personal visit to her bedside a few days before her death, know how much those endearing gestures meant to her and to our family.

Speaking of my mom and Bishops, one will never forget the night before this grand Retablo was blessed and a dinner was hosted on the historic Mission grounds to welcome and acknowledge the presence of Cardinal Levada from Rome who would bless this Retablo the next day.  My mom knew the Cardinal before his appointment as Archbishop of Portland and even prepared a small farewell meal for him before his departure from Los Angeles at our home in Granada Hills.  As the meal, al fresco was about to begin, he walked over to mom in his cardinalatial splendor and asked, “Mrs. Holquin, may I escort you to dinner?” And then, arm and arm they walked into the outdoor garden behind the historic rectory – yes, the infamous one.  She was beaming so much that it almost delayed sunset!

“Do not let your hearts be troubled….”  Jesus reminds us and all who experience the loss of a dear loved one, “Do not let your hearts be troubled…”   My friends, the good news that has sustained Christians down through the centuries is that “we have not here a lasting city…”  We are all pilgrims, immigrants in search of our lasting home.  For mom, that pilgrimage that began in the font of new life at Sacred Heart parish in Clifton, Arizona has come to an end.  She is now home, embraced by the Lord of Life, surrounded by her family and friends who have gone before us in faith, and is now feasting at the eternal banquet of unending love and life.  Alleluia!

Fifth Sunday of Easter - Mother's Day

Reflecting on this annual celebration in our country set aside to honor all mothers, whether we are blessed to enjoy their living presence or are filled with grateful memories of those who have gone before us in faith, the image of a mother remains a powerful symbol for so many of us.  I fondly remember my father, digging into a beautiful, juicy filet mignon and declaring for all to hear, ‘tender as a mother’s love!’  Motherhood is virtually synonymous with those prized and endearing qualities of love and tenderness.  From being nourished at our mother’s breast to her gentle kiss that had a near miraculous way of bringing instant healing to a bruised finger or knee, loving tenderness is a hallmark of motherhood.

No wonder, then, that these attributes so beautifully exemplified in our mothers, would analogously be used in speaking of the community of believers in Christ, the Church.  There is something inherently touching for us as Catholics, when we speak of the Church as our ‘mother.’  From her font of new life, new Christians come forth.  From her Table of Blessing, we are nourished with the living presence of her Son.  Through the reconciling gift of her priests, the bruising that sin creates in our friendship with her Son, is healed and made new. With the tenderness of a mother’s love, the Church prepares us for our eternal destiny in our Father’s house.

God’s word today speaks of this maternal care that the community of believers exemplified from the very earliest days of the church’s existence.  The Greco-Roman world despite its flickers of grandness, was a cruel and heartless place, especially for those who tenuously existed on its margins – the sick, the aged, the poor, the widows and the homeless.  In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we witness how the early community of believers sought to make the care of these individuals, a priority.  The emergence of the ministry of deacons was precisely for the purpose of extending the loving tenderness and care of the Body of Christ to those who had no one else to turn to.  It was the church that provided the all important ‘social net’ of care for the powerless and those who lived on the margins of society. 

For nearly 2000 years, this maternal care on the part of the church for the voiceless and underserved of society continues to be a hallmark of a community that strives to see and serve the Christ in our sisters and brothers.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons why St. Theresa of Calcutta has endeared herself so beautifully to both believer and unbeliever, alike.  In her and in the community of sisters that she founded, the very best of a Church that is both mother and tender healer is so dramatically and beautifully exemplified.

This image of the church as ‘mother’ is needed more than ever today, when the poor, the immigrant, the homeless, the sick and those on the margins of our society are often sacrificed at the altar of a ‘me first’ society.  In the face of such self-obsessional narcissism, sadly witnessed in our society and its leaders, the church’s prophetic stance, ‘to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable’ can be the truest sign of our authentic commitment to the Christ, whose Body we are. 

Cathedral as Sacrament

On May 23, 2017, the long awaited signing of the Construction contract for the renovation and transformation of Christ Cathedral will take place.  This moment has been a long time in coming.  The project is anticipated to take 20 months.  In light of this historic moment for us in the Diocese of Orange, the following reflection that I gave some years ago in Salt Lake City, may be of interest to my readers!

A number of years ago, I was spending a quiet morning at my mother’s home on my day off, enjoying my morning coffee and reading uninterruptedly the morning paper.  Mom was off somewhere and I had the house quietly to myself.  Just as I was relishing this wonderful moment of peace and quiet, the front doorbell rang.  For one brief moment, I wrestled with, “should I or shouldn’t I answer the door?” – but in no time I found myself walking toward the front door.  As I peered out the window, I noticed two bicycles parked on the side walk – a mild grimace came over my face. However, it was too late to turn back.  Looking through the small window in the door, I spied two young men with white shirts and black ties – as clean as a whistle.  It was too late. I had to open the door for my Mormon visitors.  However, what initially began with trepidation ended with a moment of grace and blessing.  After their well-versed introduction, I thought again to myself “should I or shouldn’t I” disclose who I am? I decided, for the sake of full disclosure, to fess up and tell them that I was a Catholic priest on his day off and quite contented with my faith life in the Catholic Church.  I then invited them in for a chat which eventually led, to my great surprise, to a question by one of the missionaries.  After hesitating for a moment, he asked me, “What was so distinctive about Catholicism?”  After pausing for a moment, I responded that it was our “sacramental perspective on life”.  I spent a few moments “unpacking” what I meant by that statement.  I explained that we Catholics reverence all of created reality as potentially “revealing” or “disclosing” something of the "holy" in our lives.  This “sacramental” perspective enables us to see such simple, earthly elements as water, bread, wine, oil, the human touch, word spoken, the imaginative turn of a Mozart symphony, a child cradled in her mother’s arms, prisms of light shining through a stained-glass window, - these and countless other moments in life as graced doors that can open for us a glimpse of the holy presence of God, the all holy creator and sustainer of all life.

My friends, it is within this sacramental perspective or through the gift of our analogical imagination, as the theologian David Tracy would call it, that a Cathedral Church can be a powerful presence of the holy, revealing or disclosing the God of mercy, the God of justice, the Lord of beauty and the God of hospitality in the midst of the secular city.

Our Cathedral Churches strive to be places of mercy and compassion.  St. Augustine powerfully reminded the people of his Cathedral Church in Northern Africa in the 5th century “to be what you celebrate”.  The Cathedral Church is the privileged place where the Shepherd of the local Church leads God’s holy people and nourishes them with the sacramental life of the Church.  At the center of our liturgical life stands the Eucharist that for 2000 years has shaped our identities as Catholic Christians.  Augustine again reminds us, “What you receive is what you are, the Body of Christ – say “Amen” to what you are and be what you celebrate”.  The authenticity and true splendor of Cathedral worship must be gauged by the splendor of its care for those who live on the margins of society – the sick, the elderly, the homebound, homeless and helpless. 

Cathedral Churches are sacraments of justice in the quality and effectiveness in which God’s holy word, sharper than any two edged sword, is proclaimed day in and day out.  From the cathedra – the Bishop’s chair – the good news of God’s liberating love is proclaimed – bringing “good news to the afflicted…liberty to captives, sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free…”  In the midst of a world enslaved by the lie of self sufficiency, a culture of death that views the ultimate value of life from the perspective of productivity and expediency, a society that is so often addicted to its pursuit of finding love and fulfillment in all the wrong places, there is a hunger to hear the liberating word of God proclaiming what we need to hear rather than what we may want to hear.  Our Cathedral Churches must be places were the truth of the Gospel is proclaimed with integrity.

Cologne Cathedral - Germany

Cathedral Churches are a sacrament and sign of God’s presence that comes to us in beauty.  The language of sacrament is the language of sign and symbol.  Words fail when we try to capture the meaning of life’s deepest realities.  Can we capture in words alone the depth of the love between husband and wife?  Can we explain in words alone the courage and commitment that brings a soldier to lay down his or her life in defense of their country?  The most profound realities in life are more often than not expressed through sign and symbol – a kiss, embrace, a flag at half staff, a lone trumpet playing taps.  The language of worship, is so often the powerful and engaging presence of the beautiful in our lives.  For centuries, we Catholics have wisely shaped our liturgical celebrations and particularly those in our Cathedral Churches in beauty – the beauty of soaring architecture, of sacred imagery that spans the centuries, the beauty of the poetic word, and most especially the power and beauty of music.  A Cathedral Church must vigorously foster and encourage the light of the beautiful in the midst of so much darkness that surrounds us each day.

Finally, a Cathedral Church is called to be a sacrament of hospitality in the midst of the city.  It is truly to be a “Cathedral for all people.” I’m sure you are all familiar with the ancient concept of “sanctuary” that has its origins in the sacredness and inviolability of our places of worship.  Those seeking refuge for whatever reason, could find solace and safety in the walls of our Churches.  While civil law technically no longer recognizes such a concept, nevertheless, our Churches and most particularly the Bishop’s Church, must continue to be a haven of hospitality where all God’s children have a place at the Table and can feel safe in its sanctuary.   In a society that is quick to judge, to segregate, to exclude, to marginalize, to characterize some as second class, whether overtly or subtly, in the Cathedral Church all should be able to find a place where they are greeted with the dignity that befits the children of God.  For us in Orange who celebrate our rich multicultural diversity, a Cathedral Church that highlights this sense of sacred hospitality is critical.

Chartres Cathedral - Grand Portal - France

That is the vision of what a Cathedral Church should be in our midst as God’s faithful people.  This past decade has been challenging for us as Catholics and most particularly for Bishops and Priests.  Rowan Williams, the former Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury in his book, The Christian Priest Today, writes: 

"When the vision of God's being and doing has become weak, theology becomes defensive - and so do Christians in general and priests in particular...But somehow or other, we all have to undergo a fairly fundamental conversion from seeing revealed truths as a possession to be guarded to seeing them as a place to inhabit; not our bit of territory that needs protection, but the whole world renewed.  We shall not proclaim Christ effectively if we are constantly revisiting what makes us anxious rather than what makes us grateful!"  

As the great project of transforming Christ Cathedral into our Mother Church gets underway, let us not be anxious but rather grateful for the “sacrament” that it can be for our local Church of Orange.

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Christ Cathedral - Diocese of Orange

World day of Prayer for Vocations - 4th Sunday of Easter

Forty-four years ago on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, the day after my ordination to the diaconate, I preached my first homily at my home parish in the San Fernando Valley.  After seven years of seminary formation my longed for and hoped for goal of finally becoming a priest was in sight.   Preparation in the seminary to eventually preach the word, begins early on in seminary formation.  In my seminary college days we were given yearly courses in public speaking with a particular emphasis on properly and effectively proclaiming the Scriptures.  I remember our professor criticizing one particular student who was presenting a rather lack luster and unenthusiastic “reading” of the scriptures to the class.  In the middle of his reading the professor yelled - “Stop! You're not reading the daily news, you're proclaiming the good news!  Let’s hear that in your voice!”

When the day of my first homily arrived and I ascended the pulpit in the Church where I had made my first communion and confirmation, to say that my heart was not beating double time would be less than honest.  Seated in the second pew in front of me - only because I wouldn’t let them sit in the first pew - was my mother, father and sister.  I remember proclaiming the Gospel that day - the Gospel of the Good Shepherd, remembering the words of my seminary professor, “Let’s hear that good news in your voice”!  Putting down the Lectionary, I took a deep breath and began my first real homily.  And so began a part of ministry that has, with God’s grace, continued for 44 years now. 

This Sunday always has a way of triggering my imagination with grateful memories as the Church asks her ministers to reflect on the call to ministry in the Church on this Good Shepherd Sunday and one designated by the Church as World Day of Prayer for Vocations.  God’s word gives us the vivid image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd.  The Good Shepherd knows his flock and his flock knows him.  So attuned are the sheep to their shepherd that even though they may not see him, they recognize his voice when he calls.  Even if someone else may call for them, they know that voice and will only respond when he calls.

The call to priestly ministry in the Church today continues to both fascinate but more often than not mystify people.  The unfortunate scandals surrounding a few ministers of the Gospel which inevitably end up on the front pages of our newspapers are a sobering reminder to us that, like the apostles themselves, the Lord does not pick the perfect and the sinless to continue his mission.  Rather, he picks you and me, men and women whose own weaknesses and sins are continual reminders that it is "not ourselves that we preach but Christ Jesus and him crucified and risen." 

Some time ago there was a special on Television that explored the topic of what truly makes people happy and fulfilled in life.  They interviewed a group of folks who had won big in state lotteries with the presumption that instant wealth would radically change that so called “happiness quotient” in their lives.  Invariably, however, this had very little if anything to do with affecting their happiness.  In some cases, a few individuals were less happy and less fulfilled because of their instant wealth.  The program concluded that the key to true happiness, weather one was fabulously wealthy or of modest means, had far more to do with living lives out of deeply held convictions and nurturing strong and loving relationships in life.  For the vast majority of those interviewed - this is what held and sustained them in happiness.

Reflecting on my own life as a priest, there is no question that living out my vocation as a response to the Lord’s call in my life - being attuned to his voice -  and building strong and loving relationships with others has been a hallmark of happiness and fulfillment in priesthood over the years.   Now, don’t get me wrong, as in all of our lives, there have indeed been moments of frustration and loneliness, times of anxiety and apprehension - yet those are inevitable aspects of all our lives in this human condition. What ultimately carries us, though, through these moments is the realization that the voice of the shepherd continues to be discerned in the rich and mysterious moments that make up our lives.  For a priest, it may be simply listening with compassion to the desire of someone to get “right” with God again.  Or, being there at the beginning of life’s journey with all its hope and promise or bringing comfort and consolation to those who lovingly bid farewell to those who continue that journey into eternity.  It may be the joy and happiness of witnessing the light of faith transform lives or simply enjoying the sustaining goodness that comes from knowing one is loved in friendship.

“How can the Word be preached unless one is sent” - so St. Paul reminds us.  While we are all called and sent forth to witness to God’s word, on this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, let us remember in a special way those whom the Shepherd’s voice still seeks out to lead God’s Holy people in priestly and religious ministry in our Church.  Let us pray that we continue to shape a parish and local church community that supports and celebrates this call which may be going out even today to members of our own parish family.  All of us have a role to play in supporting and sustaining vocations to the priesthood and the religious life - by the attitudes we share with others, by the witness we give in our families, and by our supportive prayers offered for an increase of vocations to the priesthood and the religious life.

Living and not just coping with Physical disabilities

Over the years since the onset of my neurological disability, it is only natural that folks have been curious as to ‘what it is” and “how I’m coping?” It is the nature of ‘inquiring minds’ to be inquisitive! Since the onset of my condition I have tried to be open, transparent and candid, in the hope that my experience dealing with a chronic disabling physical condition might be a help to others.

Some eight years ago I began to experience a slight ‘drop foot’ that caused occasional tripping.  In time, I realized that something was wrong and saw my doctor who sent me to a local neurologist – who, frankly, was totally mystified!’  This is often typical with the rarer neurological conditions.  It took almost a year and a half for me to doggedly pursue a diagnosis with various neurologists.  Finally, I was connected to a specialist at UCI who is the head of the ALS, MDA, Neuromuscular Center, who has helped me immensely.  After a series of exhaustive diagnostic tests as well as a second opinion from the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, they narrowed my condition to one of two possibilities – Hereditary Spastic Paraplegia or Primary Lateral Sclerosis.  With the passing of five years, the markers pretty much were pointing to PLS.  The condition is not aggressively progressive but it is progressive.  My doctor told me that it won’t kill me but it is something that must be managed and will bring varying degrees of impairment. However, it is highly individualistic and there really is no cure now.

I’m often asked: How have you been able to manage and cope with it?  A person in their right mind, of course, never goes looking for such situations, but when they come, and, believe me folks, something will inevitably come our way if we live long enough, how do we continue to “live” and not just “cope” with the inevitable twists and turns of our human journey? 

Not long ago, a parishioner recently diagnosed with a somewhat similar condition, reached out to me for advice.  I shared the following touch-points with him that have served me well in this unfolding saga and, perhaps, might be beneficial to some of you:

1. Get good medical advice even if it may require a second or third opinion.  There is a reason why they call it the ‘practice’ of medicine. In so many chronic medical conditions and especially the rarer varieties, we must be our own advocate in doggedly pursuing both a diagnosis and possible treatment.

2.  After the bad news there is an inevitable period of psychological mourning that parallels the classic stages of death and dying (even though one may not dying at all) with a good dose of denial.  For me, I went through all that until I came to a level of relatively peaceful acceptance.  Amazingly, I never went through a ‘Why me, God?’ phase.  Mostly, I reflected on ‘why not me?’ as I see so many folks contracting terrible diseases far worse than mine.  This has had the beneficial effect of relativizing my condition.

3.  I did not drastically alter my life style or rhythm of life immediately but rather, gradually accommodated to my physical condition.  I try always to focus on what I can do, rather than what I can’t do.  Mentally, this has been very helpful.

4.  With the onset of my condition in my early 60’s, I thank God I didn’t contract it when I was in my 20’s – which I could have.   I have had a very wonderful rich and productive life.  Yah, it’s a bummer to be somewhat sidelined now, but life is not over.  I live each day as a wonderful gift to be lived as fully as possible.

5.  Focus on what truly matters in life rather than wasting time with so much of the foolishness that seemed to preoccupy our younger years.  Nurture the relationships that make life truly worth living.

6.  Don’t run too far ahead into the world of ‘what if.’ What if I can’t walk? What if I can’t eat? What if….?”  This is useless paralyzing thinking.  Live in the world of ‘what is!”

7.  Pace yourself – some days you are going to feel more energy than other days.  Don’t overdo it.  Follow your doctor’s recommendations about rest, healthy food and physical therapy to the extent that may be possible.

8.  Leverage technology to help you with what physical deficiencies may occur – whether that’s using a scooter to get around, voice recognition technology for emails, etc.  There is amazing stuff out there.

9.  Let the significant others in your life, not necessarily be your primary care givers.  I know that this may be easier said than done.  There may come a point that some added help may be needed to provide additional assistance in the home.  This is all possible. It is important that husbands be primarily husbands, wives, wives, sons and daughters, sons and daughters.  Seeing these pivotal relationships solely or exclusively as ‘care givers’ can be psychologically and emotionally draining for them, leaving little room to be husband, wife, son or daughter.  However, if you have good independence now, don’t start worrying about that now.  Live in the present with gratitude for the past, resisting worrying about a future that is not here yet.

10.  Believe it or not, I have found maintaining a sense of humor extremely helpful in pulling me out of the ‘woe is me’ syndrome that can take over at times.  I was always a ‘neat freak’ and very attentive to table manners, etc.  The condition has caused me some embarrassing moments that, frankly, I just have to laugh about.   I often say, “Such is life these days….”

11.  Remain interested and inquisitive about life and the world around us.  I’ve always been a bookaholic and a newsaholic – I now have time to feed these good addictions.

12.  People will want to help – let them!  Do not deprive them the opportunity to be empathetic and physically helpful.  Let go of the rugged individualistic mentality that can make life more difficult with these chronic disabling conditions.

13.  Remembering from a faith perspective that, "we have not here a lasting city," but are rather pilgrims awaiting the fullness of life in heaven, keeps hope of eternal transformation alive.  This helps on the 'down' days!

Sunday Reflection - In the Breaking of Bread

One of the joyous pastoral aspects of the Easter Season is to witness the adult members of a parish community who for months and in some cases years have been journeying through study, prayer and reflection,  to enter the Catholic Church.  It has sometimes been said that the Easter Vigil without baptisms is like the proverbial apple pie without ice cream or a kiss without a hug!  In other words, the fullness of the Easter experience comes home to us as a parish community when we witness and celebrate new life in our Church, the new life that baptism both expresses and realizes. 

What has brought these men and women to embrace our Church?  What brings them to Catholicism? Unlike some of the more traditional Christian denominations that are part of the American experience who are suffering from decreasing numbers, that certainly is not the case for Catholicism.  While the secular press may wish to paint a picture of crisis, upheaval and theological dissension in our ranks, there is something that continues to powerfully attract adult men and women to this 2000 year old Christian way of life which is, as the old Latin maxim states, both ancient and ever new.

One of the questions that I inevitably ask those who are inquiring into the Catholic way of life, or those who have recently become Catholic, is the simple: What is it that attracted you to the Faith?  Needless to say, there are a variety of responses such as the desire to share a common faith in one’s family or the powerful witness of a Catholic spouse - “I want what she has” or “I want what he has.”  But more often than not, it is the Eucharist and the central place which this pivotal doctrine plays in our Catholic way of life that holds a powerful attraction for men and women seeking to live with integrity the Christian way of life.  It is the Eucharist that for 2000 years has shaped the life of our Church.  It is the Eucharist and our belief in the abiding presence of the risen Lord in our midst - body and blood, soul and divinity - that has been the anchor of our belief and the source of stability in a Church that is ever ancient and ever new.

In the 24th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke this Sunday, the disciples who had come to know and love the Lord Jesus are crestfallen, helpless and hopeless as they find themselves leaving Jerusalem after the crucifixion of the Lord.  They are troubled by astonishing reports that somehow, someway, this Jesus continues to live in their midst.  This is news that is just too good to be true for them.  Then a stranger comes into their midst - he begins to speak to them, reminds them of the legacy of their faith enshrined in their scriptures, and then is asked to stay with them to share a meal.  During the meal he takes bread, blesses and breaks it - and in that gesture so characteristic of Jesus, they recognized that it was the Lord who was in their midst - they recognized him in the breaking of bread.

That expression, “the breaking of bread” is probably the oldest term we have for what our Catholic tradition now refers to as the “Eucharist”, the “Mass”, “Holy Communion”.  It is an expression that reflects an action - the sharing of a meal which has now been transformed into an experience of perpetual remembrance of the Risen and living Lord in our midst.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church articulates our unique belief in the Eucharist when it states that our gathering in faith is for no ordinary meal but rather a participation in the living remembrance of a “sacrificial” meal in which the saving effect of the Lord’s life, death and resurrection continues to transform and empower us for the work of the Gospel.  Time and space cannot contain the Lord’s lasting gift to his friends.   Through the proclamation of God’s Word in the Scripture - the Lord is present to us.  In our gathering in faith - he lives among us.  In those who minister at this Holy Table, he is present.  But most of all, as is so often the case in our faith, the Lord comes to us in the ordinary and simple realities of life - in a piece of bread and a cup of wine.  In these simple earthly elements, logic gives way to faith, and this food becomes a door to the sacred enabling us to proclaim with Thomas the Apostle, “My Lord and my God”.

My brothers and sisters, may our love and commitment to the Eucharist continue to be a hallmark of our lives as Catholics.  May we recognize His presence among us in the breaking of our bread at the Holy Table.  And may others come to know that the Risen Lord is present with us still through our lives broken in loving and compassionate service of others who hunger for the bread of understanding, forgiveness and healing in their lives.

Pope Francis gives Ted talk

Providing a healthy corrective to a prevalent, "Only I can fix it" mentality, our Holy Father speaks of the transformation that a 'we mentality' can bring to our fractured world.  Bravo!

Unless you speak Italian, press "cc" for subtitles in English.  It is well worth listening in its entirety.

The Medium is the Message - Part II

Last week in one of my postings I spoke of the extraordinarily beautiful project called The St. John’s Bible.  To mark the turn of the millennium, St. John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota, commissioned the first hand written and illuminated Bible since the invention of the printing press in the 15th century.  The posting detailed this project together with images taken from the Bible itself.

Over 40 years ago, in my first assignment as a priest at Holy Family Parish in Orange, I met a wonderfully gifted artist by the name of Michael Johnson.  Michael was a professor at one of the local Community Colleges here in Orange County.  With the ongoing development and sophistication of technology, Michael became fascinated with the use of computers and digitization at the service of the visual arts.  I was fortunate to witness the ongoing development and sophistication of his craft that continues to produce stunning effects.

Sign of the Cross - Michael Johnson

Inspired by classic illuminated manuscripts that predate printing, since 1991 Michael has been designing an original digitally illuminated image each year, combining a scriptural text in Latin for his annual Christmas card.  A very limited number of these images are enlarged for framing.  I have been blessed to be the recipient each year of one of these incredible images.

For anyone familiar with the world of digital technology, a quantum leap of development and sophistication has transpired since 1991 and today.  That refinement is reflected each year in these digital masterpieces. 

The Annunciation - Michael Johnson

In December of 2016, the Orange Review did a fine article on Michael’s work which can be accessed here. In addition, Michael maintains a dedicated website, Capio Lumen, that highlights his portfolio with incredibly stunning images of his work.

A fine introduction to Michael and his work, on the site, summarizes the focus of his work over the years with this inspiring project:

Capio Lumen, Latin for capture light, is a pseudonym used by Michael Johnson when publishing his art. Michael, a Professor Emeritus in the Media Arts Design Department at Cypress College, was finally able to create his pieces full-time in his Old Town Orange studio home after 38 years of college teaching. His master’s degree is in painting and drawing, and he has studied various forms of art including paintings created during the Renaissance and Gothic periods, as well as illuminated manuscripts. He incorporates various Christian art symbols into his artwork, like flowers, butterflies, fruit, and birds. He is keenly aware that “the beautiful” reflects the transcendent. The Latin text is used as an element of continuity within his manuscripts paintings. Michael’s art, as most religious art, becomes visual theology.

Doubting Thomas

Thomas would have none of it.  “Raised from the dead? You’re out of your minds!”  The skeptic would not be taken in by ‘fake news.’  These guys have been overdosing on CNN, or worse, believing Breitbart!  It was just too good to be true.  “The Master is dead and let me continue my grieving for the one who truly touched my heart and changed my life.”  And then it happened.  The Risen Lord appeared again and this time Thomas was with them.  The Lord knowing his propensity toward incredulity summoned him to come forward.   "Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe."  And Thomas response was one of simple worship, “My Lord and my God.”  To which Jesus responded, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed."

Friends, this all too familiar Gospel that is always proclaimed on the Sunday after Easter, can easily tempt the believer to conclude that doubt and questioning of faith is somehow beneath the real Christian.  The faithful Christian never doubts.  The orthodox Christian never questions.  However, to read this meaning into the Gospel would be a disservice to nearly two millennia of theological reflection that is always, as St. Anselm so beautifully stated, “Faith seeking understanding.”

Because we are who we are as human beings, gifted with the ability to ponder and reflect, to wrestle with the great questions in life and particularly, the questions of faith, is a natural and necessary part of bringing us to insight, belief and worship.

Part of the complexity of the interrelationship between faith and doubt has been inevitably influenced by our friends who brought us 18th century Enlightenment.  Emerging out of this period was the near infallible belief that the only verifiable truth that we can know comes through science.  Exalting the empirical was thought to be the death of God and the spirit. 

But, is that really the case?  How do we put the devoted love of friends for 50 years under a microscope?  What chemistry is at work that brings a soldier to lay down his or her life for their comrades?  And what organic compounds are at work that brings near delirium on seeing one’s beloved on a wedding day? 

Truth be told, there are some realities in life that ‘transcend’ the scientific and empirical gaze.  Love, mercy, forgiveness, loyalty, empathy, integrity of life are virtues that touch the deepest and most important meanings of human existence.  And, it is these realities that more often than not reflect the divine in our lives and in our world.  They escape words of explanation.  They just are, and elicit a response of wonder, praise and thanks.  And Thomas said to him, “My Lord and my God.”

The Medium is the Message

My love for books and words began early in life.  I remember a gift from my beloved godmother, my Nina, when I was around nine or ten.  She knew that I was ‘a bit’ precocious, and so she gifted me with a Catholic Dictionary.  Now, folks, this was not the dumbed down version for kids!  This was the real thing.  The book was beautifully printed and thick.  I spent endless hours learning about ‘transubstantiation,’ ‘iconoclasts,’ and ‘mystogogy.’  There was power in these strange and wonderful words.  That book continued to be a wonderful companion through my years in the seminary.

My love for books continued and was endlessly fed when I went to St. John’s Seminary in Camarillo.  Both the College, now sadly closed, and the graduate school in Theology, had fine libraries.  The Theology library housed the then famous Doheny Collection of rare books that included a rare copy of the Gutenburg Bible.  There was also an incredible collection of first editions of many classics in English literature.  The beauty of words combined with beautiful printing and binding was a thrill to both read and see.

Gutenberg Bible - c. 1450

All of this most probably fed my ongoing love for illuminated manuscripts.  Prior to the invention of movable type, the Scriptures and liturgical books were meticulously and exquisitely done by hand.  Scribes, more often than not, monks, who labored for months in monastic scriptoria, created incredibly elaborate manuscripts with illuminated decorations.  Not only were the ‘words’ themselves an avenue to communicate the life-giving truths of the scriptures, but the imagery combined with the words became ‘evangelization in art.’ However, the invention of the printing press saw the radical decline in hand illuminated manuscripts. Utility and practicality trumped the laborious intensity of hand crafting these gems.

Book of Hours - c. 15th century

To mark the turn of the millennium, St. John’s Benedictine Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota was inspired to commission a herculean project – the first completely hand written and illuminated Bible since the invention of the printing press.

The Saint John's Bible - the beginning of the Gospel of John

The Saint John’s Bible is divided into seven volumes and is two feet tall by three feet wide when open. The Bible is made of vellum, with 160 illuminations. The version of the Bible used is the New Revised Standard Version Catholic Edition (NRSV-CE). A copy of the Bible has been presented to Pope Francis at the Vatican in several volumes, with the final volume being presented on 17 April 2015.

The following video gives a flavor of this incredible project.

Monday of Easter Week

“The Lord is Risen!” “He is Risen, indeed!”  This wonderful affirmation of the Christian faith is used as a greeting during the Easter Season in many countries of the Orthodox faith.  It reflects how this central mystery of our belief should permeate every aspect of our daily lives, including the simple greeting we give to one another.

So important is the Feast of Easter for Christians, that the Church sets aside eight days for its celebration in what is called, “the Octave of Easter.”  Each of these days is celebrated liturgically as a “Feastday,” with the Gloria prescribed for each day at Mass, as well as the ‘double Alleluia’ at the Dismissal, and the Te Deum or Hymn of Praise in the Office of Readings.  It is, as if, one day alone, cannot capture the fullness of the meaning of this pivotal day in the life of the Christian Church.

Once the Octave is completed, the Church continues its Easter rejoicing in the 50 days of the Easter Season that is concluded on the Solemnity of Pentecost.

The Risen Lord’s continues to invigorate the life and mission of the Church in his greatest legacy to us, the Holy Eucharist.  On the night before he died, the Lord Jesus left us a lasting memorial of his presence. From time immemorial, the Lord’s Eucharistic presence has shaped our identity as Christians and continues to be a focus in adoration for praise and thanksgiving.

Every Catholic Church reverently reserves the Eucharistic Bread remaining after the celebration of Mass so that it can be taken to the sick and homebound, as well as be a focus for intimate adoration in prayer.

In the planning for the Eucharistic chapel in the future Christ Cathedral, great care has been exercised in the design of this important place for Eucharistic worship of the Reserved Sacrament.  The tabernacle for the chapel was crafted by the renowned German liturgical artist, Egino Weinert, of Cologne, Germany.  I first became acquainted with his work while during post-graduate studies in Belgium in the late 70’s.  The following video explains in greater detail this exquisite enhancement to our future Cathedral.

Since the time of this video, further developments and revisions have taken place in the architectural plans for the Cathedral layout.  The Sacrament Chapel will no longer be situated in the area behind the Bishop’s Chair, but rather to the East of the Cathedral proper in an area more spacious and prominent.  It is in an ideal position that will be readily accessible to all who may wish to visit and pray.

Easter Sunday - Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia!

There is probably no other word in the Christian vocabulary that captures the essence of the Easter experience than “Alleluia.”  It is the word that for the 40 days of our Lenten journey has been silent.  In fact, in some monastic communities, there is the ancient practice of literally burying the “Alleluia” in the antiphonal books in which it appears!

The word, “Alleluia” like its companion word that is utilized often in Christian liturgy, “Amen,” were brought directly into the grammar of the Christian liturgy from its Jewish roots, untranslated.  These two words echoed within the Jerusalem Temple and prayerfully summarized the thoughts and feelings of our Jewish sisters and brothers before the presence of the Lord in the Holy of Holies.

The word literally means, “Praise Yahweh,” or, in English, “Praise the Lord.”  It is the exultant acclamation that came forth from the assembly of God’s people in recognition of the God from whom all blessings flow.

In the Great Easter Vigil, it finally makes its appearance after a 40-day silence, following the reading from Romans and prior to the Gospel of the Resurrection.  The ancient tone used is characteristic of an elaborate ‘melismatic’ chant that plays on and elongates each syllable. 

It again appears at the solemn conclusion of the Easter Vigil Mass in a unique double format.  This double “Alleluia” is used solely as the dismissal during the great eight days of celebrating the joy of Easter, reappearing again only on the Festival of Pentecost that ends the 50 days of Easter rejoicing.

Through the ages, this simple chant melody in the hands of the great composers has led to some of the most memorable settings, giving 'praise to God' for his Risen Son.  Alleluia!

Church of the Holy Sepulcher

My first visit to the Holy Land took place in 1979.  At the time, I was a priest student completing post graduate studies in theology at the Catholic University of Louvain in Belgium.  I lived at the famous American College that is now sadly closed.  At that time, though, there were over 100 seminarians and student priests pursuing theological studies.  As part of our Spring break, a tour of the Holy Land was organized.  I remember vividly leaving the cold and damp Belgian climate and stepping off the plane in Tel Aviv.  The sun was shining brightly and the air was warm and fragrant with orange blossoms.  I thought to myself, “this is just like California!”

Our 10 days in the Holy Land encompassed all the famous Biblical sites.  We were touring from morning until night.  There was an unbelievable charm to the mount of the Beatitudes with its unobstructed vista of the Sea of Galilee.  Since it was Springtime, the mount itself was covered in wildflowers.  To this day, I cannot read or hear these moving words of the Lord without being transported to that scene that continues to be a grateful memory.

Sunset on the Mount of the Beatitudes

The heart of our visit was, of course, visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem. To visit and venerate this ancient site is to be part of pilgrims over nearly two millennia for whom this destination was the ‘mother of all shrines.’  In virtually all great world religions, the concept of pilgrimage holds great importance.  Whether it is participating in the once in a lifetime Haj to Mecca as a devout Muslim, or praying at the Western Wall, the last vestiges of the Great Herodian Temple in Jerusalem for Jews, pilgrimage remains the metaphor for the quest for spiritual fulfillment that faith brings to our lives.

Much has been written over the centuries on the Church that enshrines the physical locations of the death, burial and resurrection of Christ.  Scripture speaks of the hill of crucifixion or Golgotha, being outside the walls of Jerusalem, with the tomb nearby.  Historians tell us that shortly after the Lord’s death and resurrection, early followers of ‘the way,’ came to venerate this area of the city.  It was not possible to physically memorialize this area because Christianity was outlawed by the Roman Empire.  In fact, the Roman authorities eventually constructed a pagan temple on this site to dissuade it from becoming a place of veneration.  However, with the Edict of Milan by the Emperor Constantine, Christianity, figuratively and literally, emerged from the catacombs and was freed from persecution.  St. Helena, the mother of Constantine, embarked on the arduous pilgrimage of a lifetime to the Holy Land in search of the cross of Christ.  The story of its discovery remains, to this day, a moving testimony of her unfailing devotion to this ‘sign of our salvation.’

Constantine soon ordered that a Basilica be built on this venerated site to protect the place of crucifixion and resurrection. At the place of the tomb, a small structure called the Aedicula, was built to protect the empty tomb. Between the 7th and 10th centuries, the church sadly suffered from fires and earthquakes that required extensive repairs.  On 18 October 1009, Fatimid caliph Al-Hakim bi-Amr Allah ordered the complete destruction of the church as part of a more general campaign against Christian places of worship in Palestine and Egypt. Negotiations with subsequent caliphs saw the rebuilding of a new church upon the foundation stones of the original Constantinian structure.  It is this structure that has endured through subsequent historic periods.  In 1808 a fire severely damaged the Aedicula and required that it be rebuilt over the original tomb.  It is this structure that was severely in need of repair that restoration commenced several years ago and has now been completed.

Aedicula showing the reinforcement erected by the British in the 1940's

It was within the Aedicula, on the marble slab that covers the original rock upon which the Lord was placed following his death, that I was privileged to celebrate the Eucharist.  The inner tomb has room for no more than 4 or 5 people.  A small silver altar is prepared on the marble slab on which Mass is celebrated.  There is only one mass text that is used when celebrating the Eucharist at this most revered site, the Mass of the Resurrection.

Aedicula after complete restoration in 2017

Good Friday

Her name was Egeria and she was filled with love for the Lord.  This was perilous in the 4th century until the Edict of Milan by the Emperor Constantine, that permitted Christians to worship publically.  The great persecutions had come to an end and Egeria wished to fulfill a long-held dream, to travel in pilgrimage to the places made holy by the Savior.  She, like Helena, the mother of Constantine, set out on an incredibly arduous journey to venerate the place of the crucifixion and resurrection as well as the holy places spoken of in the Scriptures.  Along the way, she kept a journal that now forms the primary source for the liturgical celebrations that were celebrated in these very locations and especially in Jerusalem in the 4th century, when Cyril was Bishop. 

The Greek Altar at Golgotha in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher

The special and unique liturgy that we celebrate today, more properly called, The Celebration of the Passion of the Lord, has its roots sunk deeply in these 4th century rites described by Egeria.  Two pivotal elements framed this ancient rite:  The Proclamation of the Passion according to St. John and the Veneration of the Wood of the Cross.  Here is how Egeria describe that veneration:

“Then a chair is placed for the bishop in Golgotha behind the Cross, which is now standing; the bishop duly takes his seat in the chair, and a table covered with a linen cloth is placed before him; the deacons stand round the table, and a silver-gilt casket is brought in which is the holy wood of the Cross. The casket is opened and (the wood) is taken out, and both the wood of the Cross and the title are placed upon the table. 

Now, when it has been put upon the table, the bishop, as he sits, holds the extremities of the sacred wood firmly in his hands, while the deacons who stand around guard it. It is guarded thus because the custom is that the people, both faithful and catechumens, come one by one and, bowing down at the table, kiss the sacred wood and pass through. And because, I know not when, someone is said to have bitten off and stolen a portion of the sacred wood, it is thus guarded by the deacons who stand around, lest anyone approaching should venture to do so again.  

And as all the people pass by one by one, all bowing themselves, they touch the Cross and the title, first with their foreheads and then with their eyes; then they kiss the Cross and pass through, but none lays his hand upon it to touch it. When they have kissed the Cross and have passed through, a deacon stands holding the ring of Solomon and the horn from which the kings were anointed; they kiss the horn also and gaze at the ring . . . all the people are passing through up to the sixth hour, entering by one door and going out by another; for this is done in the same place where, on the preceding day, that is, on the fifth weekday, the oblation was offered.”

From time immemorial, it is the account of the Passion as recorded by St. John that is proclaimed this day.  Jesus, sovereign Lord of the Universe, is imaged in this Gospel, not as victim but rather victor in embracing his destiny that will lead to Glory.  The wood of the cross is transformed from being an instrument of torture to that of the tree that becomes the instrument of our salvation because of him who hangs upon it in triumph over the powers of darkness. 

In the 6th century, St. Venantius (c-530-c-609) composed the classic Good Friday chant, Crux Fidelis, sung during the veneration, that captures poetically, the beauty and glory of the cross now transformed by Christ the Victor. 

Faithful cross, above all other,
One and only noble tree:
None in foliage, none in blossom,
None in fruit thy peer may be.
Sweetest wood and sweetest iron,
Sweetest weight is hung on thee!

On this most solemn day, let us too join Christians of all ages as we proclaim:  We adore you, Oh Christ, and we bless you.  Because by your Holy Cross you have redeemed the world.

The Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper

“Why is this night different from all other nights?”  My brothers and sisters, with that ancient question, the youngest member of every Jewish family questions his Father as they sit at the yearly Passover Table. 

My friends, we gather this evening to solemnly begin the heart of the Christian Passover as we mark the end of Lent and enter the Solemn celebration of the dying and rising of Christ in his Paschal Journey.  This is our Passover as brothers and sisters who bear the name of the Savior.  Why is this night different from all other nights for us as members of the new covenant?

We gather tonight to remember and to give thanks for the one who passed from death to life and in whose blood, we are redeemed.

We remember the heart of our faith in the gift of the Eucharist.  During the great meal of remembrance, Jesus gave to his followers a legacy of his presence in bread broken and cup shared.  As Catholics are identities are shaped by the gift of the Eucharist for we are called to become that which we receive – the Body of Christ for the life of the world.

We remember tonight the gift of the ministerial Priesthood as a call to loving service in the Church.  For me and for my brothers who join with me tonight in offering this Holy Thursday liturgy, we are keenly aware of the pain that some of our brothers have inflicted on the Body of Christ.   Despite the darkness that overshadows the priesthood these latter days, know of our recommitment to you to lead and to serve in the image of Him who did not hesitate to kneel and wash the feet of his disciples.  Pray for us and help us by your example to be faithful to the grace of our ordination.

SHSU Chorale Dr. James Franklin, conductor Live recording from St. Paul's UMC, Houston March 7, 2013

And finally, tonight we remember that each of us is called to break open our lives in humble service of one another.  The great humanitarian, Albert Schweitzer, once said, “I know not what your destiny may be, but this I am sure of – that those who seek true happiness are the ones who have sought and learned how to serve!”

As the feet of our sisters and brothers are washed, may each of us recommit ourselves to embracing a humility that acknowledges our radical dependence on the Lord of our lives.   And in the humble service that we are called to give to one another, may we come to see the face of Christ in the poor, the homeless, the hungry, the broken, the abused and all those who walk with Jesus to the cross of new life.  “Do this in remembrance of me”.

Wednesday of Holy Week

His name has become synonymous with traitor.  Judas Iscariot, whose entrance onto the Lenten stage occurs in the Gospel from John, yesterday, and from Matthew, today, calls for a sobering reflection in our Lenten itinerary of conversion. Down through the centuries, shame and insult have been heaped upon him for his betrayal of the Lord.  His own personal shame led to his suicide as the Gospel relates.  Rarely do we reflect on the fact that, like the other apostles, Judas too was attracted to the mission and ministry of the Master. Jesus undoubtedly called him with his words of ‘come and see’ to his inquiring heart.  He was part of that inner circle of companionship with whom the Master shared his hopes and dreams as well as his disappointments and frustrations.  We cannot help but wonder, what was the root cause of his betrayal?  What was the darkness that engulfed his life that would lead him to betray the Lord with a sign of affection and love, a kiss?

Before our imaginations go into overdrive, the unsettling reality in the tragic Judas story is the fact that sadly, there is a bit of Judas in all of us.  The tragedy among so many Christians is the fact that the Good News is just too good to be true. Wavering doubt in the promise of the Gospel can lead many of us into the delusion of thinking that we might be able to ‘get a better deal somewhere else.’  Unlike the Prodigal son who came to his senses and sought the unfailing healing mercy of the Father, Judas despaired.  The evil one seduced him into believing that so great a sin was outside the ambit of God’s forgiving love.  That is, of course, the difference between the betrayal of Judas and Peter’s denial of the Lord.  Judas’ despair closed his heart to the Lord’s healing and loving touch of mercy and forgiveness.  Peter, realizing his sin of denial, wept bitterly and humbly sought a new beginning from the Lord of life in his threefold response of love.

As the Lenten Season will soon draw to a close and the Paschal Triduum begins, may whatever darkness that may tempt us to limit God’s unfailing mercy, give way to the light of his love that is without end.

When does Lent end?

If I had a bottle of single malt scotch for every time over the past 43 years that I’ve been asked the question, “Father, when does Lent end?” I could open a bar!  Now, folks, I’m not as naive as to think people are just interested in the more subtler aspects of liturgical history and practice.  I suspect, lurking in this question is an ulterior motive!  Be that as it may, I hope that the following response to that yearly question might prove helpful.

The 40 days of Lent are a spiritual preparation for the central feast of the Christian calendar, Easter.  Liturgical theology views the Easter celebration from a three-fold perspective in what is called the Sacred Paschal or Easter Triduum.  The Easter Triduum begins with the celebration of the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper and concludes with the celebration of Evening Prayer, or Vespers, on Easter Sunday.  The Easter Triduum, then, consists of the liturgical celebrations of the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday, the Celebration of the Lord’s Passion on Good Friday and culminating in the Great Easter Vigil, that is extended into the Easter morning Masses.  These liturgical celebrations are viewed as three parts of a single liturgical ‘mystery,’ that we understand as the remembrance of the Lord’s dying and rising – the very essence of our Christian faith.

An often-missed liturgical cue that reflects the integrated harmony of these three celebrations, can be seen in how they begin and end.  The Holy Thursday Mass begins in the normal fashion with the Sign of the Cross and liturgical Greeting of the assembly.  However, at its conclusion, there is no ‘Dismissal’ of the assembly.  Rather, the liturgy concludes with the solemn procession with whatever Eucharistic bread that remains from the Mass, to the place of reposition so that it might be distributed at the Good Friday liturgy.  The Good Friday liturgy, the only day in the Liturgical calendar in which Mass is not celebrated, is actually an ancient liturgy whose origins go back to the liturgy celebrated in Jerusalem around the 4th century.  In pre-conciliar times, it would sometimes be referred to as the “Mass of the Pre-sanctified.”  This liturgy does not begin with the Sign of the Cross or Greeting but simply with the Opening Prayer or Collect.  Neither is there a dismissal given at its conclusion.  Following the Concluding Prayer, the rubric merely states that “all depart in silence.”  The instructions for the beginning of the Great Easter Vigil are fascinating.  Prior to the 3rd edition of the Roman Missal, that was published in 2010, there was no mention of a Sign of the Cross or Greeting of the People at the beginning of the Blessing of the Easter Fire.  In the revision of the Missal, however, reference is made to the Sign of the Cross and Greeting, but only in the instructional rubric – as if it were an afterthought – with the primary focus on the Instruction, which forms the solemn beginning of The Easter Vigil. It is only at the end of this symbolically rich liturgy, that we hear the elaborate Dismissal that incorporates a triple Alleluia! 

Consequently, these three solemn and unique liturgies are three dimensions of a single celebration, extended in time, to remember in a timeless fashion, the dying and rising of the Lord.

So, when does Lent end?  Lent ends when Easter begins.  And, Easter begins with the Solemn celebration of the Paschal Triduum, at the beginning of the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Super on Holy Thursday.

A note to followers of this Blog, because of the richness in themes during Holy Week and the Paschal Triduum, I will be posting each day beginning on Wednesday of Holy Week and continuing through Easter Sunday.

Monday of Holy Week

In introducing reflections on the Lenten Season, I made reference to a splendid book by George Weigel, Roman Pilgrimage.  In this fascinating work, the author presents insightful Lenten reflections tied to the traditional stational churches in the city of Rome that from ancient times have been associated with each day of the Lenten Season.  In the early years of the faith, the Pope would journey each day to these venerable churches where he would celebrate the Eucharist.  The tradition of visiting the statio of each Lenten day has been revived by the seminarians at the North American College and forms a central focus of the Lenten itinerary of conversion. 

The Stational Church for the Monday of Holy Week is St. Praxedes, located near St. Mary Major, and is one of the jewels of the stational churches.  Elizabeth Lev, the superb art historian who provided the historical and architectural narrative on the stational churches for Weigel’s book, explains the importance of St. Praxedes:

“Pope St. Paschal I (817–824), whose efforts to return beauty to the Eternal City led to the creation of many examples of luminous art in the “Dark Ages,” rebuilt this church near an earlier titulus (documented in 491) dedicated to St. Praxedes. Paschal’s entrance still exists in the portico facing Via San Martino ai Monti; remnants of the antique church remain in the sixteen granite columns lining the nave and in an architrave of carved Roman cornices. The powerfully articulated nave leads to a mosaic-encrusted triumphal arch, the gateway to the apse, altar, and crypt, into which Paschal transferred the remains of 2,300 martyrs from the suburban catacombs.”

Apsal Arch with a rondel in mosaic of the name "Paschal"

St. Praxedes presents the pilgrim with some of the most splendid 9th century mosaic work in all of Rome.  The chapel of St. Zeno is a resplendent example of this breathtaking artistry.  Again, quoting Lev:

Ceiling of the St. Zeno Chapel

“Paschal I built the glorious St. Zeno Chapel in honor of his mother, Theodora. Its unique, wall-to-wall mosaics create a golden vision of heaven; precious columns line the four corners, capped with golden capitals from which angels seem to reach to the vault’s summit, where Christ Pantocrator looks serenely down. The sarcophagus of the two sister-martyrs, under the altar, inspired a young Italian student, Giovanni Battista de Rossi, to begin exploring the catacombs; in 1864, de Rossi published the first scientific work of Christian archaeology.

St. Zeno Chapel

Rondel of Christ from the ceiling mosaic of the St. Zeno Chapel

Excerpt From: George Weigel, Elizabeth Lev & Stephen Weigel. “Roman Pilgrimage.” iBooks.

Passion Sunday

My brothers and sisters, once again the Church invites us to enter into these final days of the Lord’s earthly existence as we begin the Holiest Week of the Church’s year of grace. The liturgies of this week and most particularly the solemn liturgies of the Easter Triduum beginning with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday evening and culminating with the great feast of Easter next Sunday are days that invite us to enter into the meaning of the Lord’s death and resurrection for each of us. 

Why was this good and righteous man nailed to the wood of the cross as a common criminal?  Why the ambivalence of the crowds who in one moment cried out “Hosanna” and in the next “Crucify Him?”  Why the cowardice of a few of his own followers whose love for him could so easily turn to “I don’t know the man” or betrayal with a kiss?

The dark side of humanity becomes all too apparent in the sacred story of this week - a story of betrayal, cowardice, and our inhumanity in the face of such goodness.

Each of us in our own way have been touched by the darkness of this world.  Each of us in our own way have sadly contributed to that story of betrayal, cowardice and inhumanity.

Yet, the story and gift of this week is not to end in despair.  But rather, the meaning of this week is the story of unconquerable love that is stronger than betrayal, cowardice,  and death itself.  It is a week in which we celebrate, as St. Paul reminds us today, the obedience of one who embraced the totality of our human condition - even death itself - so that we might come to experience the transforming hope and glory of a love that can make all things new.   My brothers and sisters, this week will not end on Golgotha but rather will lead to the empty tomb that for 2000 years has spoken of unending hope because love is indeed stronger than death.

And so, may we enter this week with humility so that the grace and gift of his life may brighten the darkness of our lives and fill us with hope in the one who makes all things new by his cross and glorious resurrection. 

We can only speak of hope

One of the cherished gifts given to me on my ordination to the priesthood was an original signed serigraph by the contemporary California artist and, at the time, a member of the Immaculate Heart of Mary religious community, Sr. Corita Kent.  Influenced by the artistic trends of the time, including ‘pop art,’ she developed a unique style incorporating vibrant colors together with text.  The texts could range from phrases culled from grocery store items, such as “Wonder Bread” and its association to the Eucharist, to evocative quotations from contemporary authors.  My gift was emblazoned with a quote from the French philosopher and Christian existentialist, Gabriel Marcel.  It reads:

We can only speak of hope

My relationship to myself is mediated by the presence of the other person, by what he is for me and what I am for him. To love any body is to expect something from him, something which can neither be defined nor forseen; it is at the same time in someway to make it possible for him to fulfill this expectation Yes, paradoxical as it may seem, to expect is in someway to give: but the opposite is none the less true; no longer to expect is to strike with the sterility the being from whom no more is expected. It is then in some way to deprive him or to take from him in advance what is surely a certain possibility of inventing or creating. Everything looks as though we can only speak of hope where the interaction exists between him who gives and him who receives.

This beautiful quote has served me well over the years, pointing to a key element in leadership.  Leadership of integrity always involves the element of reciprocity. Good leaders never lead in isolation or are foolish enough to think that they alone ‘can fix’ the challenging problems of our contemporary society. Wisdom in leadership emerges out of the respectful civil ‘give and take’ between those who lead and those who are being led.  The genius of the framers of our Constitution is rooted precisely in this creative tension between our elected officials and those who have elected them.  The tripartite structure of governance, the Executive, the Legislative and the Judicial, function best when there is a respectful and civil reciprocity between these three branches of governance – a reciprocity that, in respecting their relative independence, serve best the common good.

I fear that these days, reciprocity and civility are becoming rare commodities in the forging of the common good.  Never before have I witnessed such polarization, animosity and incivility in what was at one time considered the noble profession of the politician. Sadly, much of it is emerging from the top. Gridlock and name calling, demonization of the motives of others and a lack of interest in achieving compromise, feed the present toxic political malaise.  I was struck this weekend when the respected senator from Arizona, John McCain, in an interview with David Axelrod on CNN, stated that he “is more worried about this country than I’ve been in my entire life.”

In the face of such a crisis, it is the virtue of hope, forged through the messiness of dialogue with ‘the other,’ that will save us.