8:30pm

A darkened cathedral filled with hushed people.

Thunder rolls in the distance like cannon fire and a nervous deacon, dressed in a long, black cassock looks nervously out on the street as he tests a microphone. Will the lull in the pouring rain hold?

My brothers and I enter the sacristy and go to the side room where the servers vest. We borrow several surplices, don our cassocks, then the surplice, and the master of ceremonies snags four of us (I am not among them) and gives them a quick lesson in how to bear a candle during the Eucharistic prayer. They then return and we chat quietly with a few Dominicans, all-white with black capes and mantles over top. 

I decide to walk to the front of the cathedral to see how the weather is going; it is absolutely pouring. You see, the Easter Vigil begins with a roaring fire in the front of the church and all the people gather round it. The fire is blessed and from it the Easter Candle–an enormous candle with a cross on it as well as the year–is lit. So I go and I notice a group of sisters, the Missionaries of Charity.

“Sister!” I whisper to one of them, who instantly lights up and gives me her full attention, “May I ask you a favor?” She nods her head. “Please ask Our Lord to give us good weather for the Vigil; I’m sure that He will listen to you!” She and the dozen sisters around her smiled and nodded their heads. I should hope He would listen to His own brides!

I also asked a small group of Religious Sisters of Mercy for the same favor.

(They were wearing all-black habits, however.)

Then I spotted the little girl I saw on Good Friday, the one in the wheel chair with the black beret. I walked up to her father and asked, “Sir, may I ask your daughter a favor?” He smiled and said, “Sure.”

I knelt down and asked the smiling little girl, “May I ask you a big favor? This is really important.” She nodded eagerly. “I need you to ask Jesus to give us good weather so we can have a fire for the vigil. I’m sure if you ask Him, He’ll listen to you. Can you do that?” She was quite confident that she could. I thanked her and her father again and went over to a statue of St. Therese of Lisieux to complete my anti-rain campaign. A note to my non-Catholic brothers and sisters: I was not praying to the statue; rather the statue helps me to remember her life and the friendship we have built up over the past couple of years and just helps me to think about her more clearly. It is sort of like when you miss someone and so you look at a picture of them and you can think more clearly. I hope that helps to explain things a bit.

So there I was, talking with St. Therese, asking her to talk with Our Lord and remind Him of the time when she asked for snow on her vow day and He gave her snow, even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky and it was not quite the proper time of year for such a thing. We prayed a Chaplet of Divine Mercy together and then I left my rosary behind an Easter lily that was there in front of her statue, and I asked her to offer a Rosary to Jesus in thanksgiving for Him hearing our prayer. I then returned to the sacristy to tell the archbishop about my campaign and that everything that could be done about the rain was done or was being done. 

Eventually we all lined up and processed silently down the center aisle toward the front entrance: it had stopped raining. Praise God! A massive fire was roaring and all the people were gathered about, and there was the little girl in her wheelchair, all smiles.

“Dear friends in Christ,” the archbishop says, “on this most holy night, whenour Lord Jesus Christ passed from death to life, the Church invites her children throughout the world to come together in vigil and prayer. This is the Passover of the Lord: if we honor the memory of his death and resurrection by hearing his word and celebrating his mysteries, then we may be confident that we shall share his victory over death and live with him for ever in God.”

“Let us pray…Father, we share in the light of your glory through your Son, the light of the world. Make this new fire (here he makes the Sign of the Cross) holy, and inflame us with new hope. Purify our minds by this Easter celebration and bring us one day to the feast of eternal light. We ask this through Christ our Lord.” 

“Amen,” say the people.

Approaching the Easter Candle, the archbishop (I think traces with his finger over the symbols already upon the candle; I’ve never had a good vantage point by which to see what goes on) then prays “Christ yesterday and today” (tracing the vertical beam of the cross) “the beginning and end” (the horizontal beam) “Alpha” (the alpha symbol) “and Omega” (the Omega sign) “all time belongs to him” (the first number of the year, so “2″, located in the upper left corner of the cross) “and all the ages” (the “0″) “to him be glory and power” (“1″) “through every age forever. Amen.” (the final “1″).

Then five grains of incense (I think) encased in wax on the ends of nails are pressed into the four ends of the cross as well as the center. For each one he prays, “By his holy…and glorious wounds…may Christ our Lord…guard us…and keep us. Amen.” 

The Easter Candle is then lit, and a special glass cover is put over the top so that the flame cannot be blown out by the wind. By this time a very sparse rain has begun to fall. It isn’t really a bother. He then prays, “May the light of Christ, rising in glory, dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.” 

By this time the rain was coming down pretty steadily, but we were beginning to process in anyways. After a short distance the deacon carrying the candle chanted, “Christ be our light,” to which we all chanted back, “Thanks be to God.” This occurred once more before people began filing back into their pews. Everyone had gotten small hand-held candles and were, one-by-one, being lit first by a few seminarians who already had lit candles and then lit those along the aisle’s edge. Those people in turn lit the candles of their neighbor and so on until the whole cathedral was dimly lit in golden candlelight.

(Not my cathedral, but you get the idea!)

The deacon chanted once more before the candle was placed in it stand next to the ambo (or pulpit) and suddenly all the lights in the cathedral turned on and another deacon, while the candle is being placed, goes to the archbishop, kneels, and receives the following blessing:

“The Lord be in your heart and on your lips, that you may worthily proclaim his Easter praise. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (He makes the Sign of the Cross while offering this blessing.)

That deacon then went to the ambo and sand the great Exultet:

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!
Exult, all creation around God’s throne!
Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!
Sound the trumpet of salvation!

Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,
radiant in the brightness of your King!
Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!

Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy,
echoing the mighty song of all God’s people!

My dearest friends,
standing with me in this holy light,
join me in asking God for mercy,

that he may give his unworthy minister
grace to sing his Easter praises.

Deacon: The Lord be with you.
People: And also with you.
Deacon: Lift up your hearts.
People: We lift them up to the Lord.
Deacon: Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is truly right
that with full hearts and minds and voices
we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father,
and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,
and paid for us the price of Adam’s sin to our eternal Father!

This is our passover feast,
when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,
whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.

This is the night
when first you saved our fathers:
you freed the people of Israel from their slavery
and led them dry-shod through the sea.

This is the night
when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin!

This is the night
when Christians everywhere,
washed clean of sin and freed from all defilement,
are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.

This is the night
when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave.

What good would life have been to us,
had Christ not come as our Redeemer?
Father, how wonderful your care for us!
How boundless your merciful love!
To ransom a slave you gave away your Son.

O happy fault,
O necessary sin of Adam,
which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Most blessed of all nights,
chosen by God to see Christ rising from the dead!

Of this night scripture says:
“The night will be as clear as day:
it will become my light, my joy.”

The power of this holy night dispels all evil,
washes guilt away, restores lost innocence,
brings mourners joy;
it casts out hatred, brings us peace,
and humbles earthly pride.

Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth
and man is reconciled with God!

Therefore, heavenly Father,
in the joy of this night,
receive our evening sacrifice of praise,
your Church’s solemn offering.

Accept this Easter candle,
a flame divided but undimmed,
a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven
and continue bravely burning
to dispel the darkness of this night!

May the Morning Star which never sets
find this flame still burning:
Christ, that Morning Star,
who came back from the dead,
and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
your Son, who lives and reigns for ever and ever.
Amen.

 

The archbishop then says, “Dear friends in Christ, we have begun our solemn vigil. Let us now listen attentively to the word of God, recalling how he saved his people throughout history and, in the fullness of time, sent his own Son to be our Redeemer. Through this Easter celebration, may God bring to perfection the saving work he has begun in us.

We all sit and listen to seven readings:

Genesis 1:1-2:2 (Creation and the Fall)

Then a chanted responsorial psalm (104 in this case)

The archbishop then offers a prayer after each reading or reading/psalm. I will offer the first prayer here but will assume that adding the remaining six would just make this blog that much longer to read!

“Almighty and eternal God, you created all things in wonderful beauty and order. Help us now to perceive how still more wonderful is the new creation by which in the fullness of time you redeemed your people through the sacrifice of our Passover, Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns for ever and ever. Amen.”

Next was Genesis 22:1-18 (The sacrifice of Isaac), followed by a prayer.

Exodus 14:15-15:1 (about crossing the Red Sea and the defeat of Pharoah)

A responsorial psalm of the victory song sung after Pharoah’s defeat, followed by a prayer.

Isaiah 54:5-14

Isaiah 55:1-11

A responsorial psalm of Isaiah 12.

Baruch 3:9-15, 32-4:4.

Ezekiel 36:16-28, followed by a responsorial psalm 42 and then a prayer.

And then…

Suddenly an acolyte starts ringing a handbell, the organ thunders to life for the first time since Holy Thursday, the cathedral’s massive bells fill the night and we all sing the Gloria:

“Glory to God in the highestand peace to his people on earth.Lord God, heavenly King, Almighty God and Father, we worship you, we give you thanks, we praise you for your glory.

Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father,Lord God, Lamb of God,you take away the sin of the world: have mercy on us; You are seated at the right hand of the Father: receive our prayer.

For you alone are the Holy One,you alone are the Lord,you alone are the Most High, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit, in the glory of God the Father. Amen.”

We are then called to prayer.

“Lord God, you have brightened this night with the radiance of the risen Christ. Quicken the spirit of sonship in your Church; renew us in mind and body to give you whole-hearted service. Grant this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, on God, for ever and ever.”

“Amen.”

We then hear Romans 6:3-11 before the ALLELUIA, the first since LENT BEGAN OVER FORTY DAYS AGO is sung. My goodness, how wonderful to sing the Alleluia again after so long! We then hear the Gospel, Matthew 28:1-10 and receive a short homily.

Next we receive those who wish to enter into full communion with the Church through baptism and/or confirmation. This is one of my favorite parts! The catechumens are led to the font where the archbishop asks:

“Dear friends, let us pray to almighty God for our brothers and sisters (he says the names of those about to be baptized), who are asking for baptism. He has called them and brought them to this moment; may he grant them light and strength to follow Christ with resolute hearts and to profess the faith of the Church. May he give them the new life of the Holy Spirit, whom we are about to call down on this water.”

We then, led by two cantors, chant the Litany of the Saints in which we ask Christ to hear our prayers for those about to be baptized, joining our prayers to those who have preceded us in death and are already gathered all about Him, praying for us constantly. After the litany the baptismal font is blessed:

“Father, you give us grace through sacramental signs, which tells us of the wonders of your unseen power. In baptism we use your gift of water, which you have made a rich symbol of the grace you give us in this sacrament. At the very dawn of creation your Spirit breathed on the waters, making them the wellspring of all holiness. The waters of the great flood you made a sign of the waters of baptism, that make an end of sin and a new beginning of goodness. Through the waters of the Red Sea you led Israel out of slavery, to be an image of God’s holy people, set free from sin by baptism. In the waters of the Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Spirit. Your Son willed that water and blood should flow from his side as he hung upon the cross. After his resurrection he told his disciples: “Go out and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”

Father, look now with love upon your Church, and unseal for her the fountain of baptism. By the power of the Holy Spirit give to this water the grace of your Son, so that in the sacrament of baptism all those whom you have created in your likeness may be cleansed from sin and rise to a new birth of innocence by water and the Holy Spirit.”

In some places, where it is possible, the Easter Candle is placed in the font to remind us of the Holy Spirit hovering over the waters of the primordial earth, and the presider prays, “We ask you, Father, with your Son to send the Holy Spirit upon the waters of this font. May all who are buried with Christ in the death of baptism rise also with him to the newness of life. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.” I don’t know it this was done or not since my view was blocked by massive pillars of marble!

The people are then baptized after being asked several questions regarding the faith and then they are baptized they are anointed with the Oil of Catechumens, receiving the blessing: “The God of power and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has freed you from sin and brought you to new life through water and the Holy Spirit. He now anoints you with the chrism of salvation, so that, united with his people, you may remain for ever a member of Christ who is Priest, Prophet and King.” Afterward they are dressed in white robes, receive their baptismal candle which is then lit from the Easter Candle, before they return to their seats. The whole congregation then renews their own baptismal promises and two deacons go around sprinkling everyone with holy water as the choir sings, “Springs of water, bless the Lord; give Him glory and praise forever.”

We then receive the newly baptized along with those who are her to be confirmed. They present themselves to the archbishop, who says, “(He says each of their names), of your own free will you have asked to be received into the full communion of the Catholic Church. You have made your decision after careful thought under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I now invite you to come forward with your sponsors and in the presence of this community to profess the Catholic faith. In this faith you will be one with us for the first time at the eucharistic table of the Lord Jesus, the sign of the Church’s unity.”

Each person asking for reception into the Church says, “I believe and profess all that the holy Catholic Church believes, teaches, and proclaims to be revealed by God.” Granted it may not seem like much, but remember that they all have–either at their baptism a little bit ago or during the renewal of their promises–just professed the Creed.

Each candidate then approaches the archbishop, one-by-one with their sponsor behind them with one hand on their shoulder. He says, “(Name), the Lord receives you into the Catholic Church. His loving kindness has led you here, so that in the unity of the Holy Spirit you may have full communion with us in the faith that you have professed in the presence of his family.”

He then says, “My dear candidates for confirmation, by your baptism you have been born again in Christ and you have become members of Christ and of his priestly people. Now you are to share in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit among us, the Spirit sent by the Lord upon his apostles at Pentecost and given by them and their successors to the baptized. 

The promised strength of the Holy Spirit, which you are to receive, will make you more like Christ and help you to be witnesses to his suffering, death and resurrection. It will strengthen you to be active members of the Church and to build up the Body of Christ in faith and love. 

My dear friends, let us pray to God our Father, that he will pour out the Holy Spirit on these candidates for confirmation to strengthen them with his gifts and anoint them to be more like Christ, the Son of God.”

He then stretches out his hands over them all, following in the ancient tradition of conferring the Holy Spirit by the laying on of hands, praying:

“All-powerful God, Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, by water and the Holy Spirit you freed your sons and daughters from sin and gave them new life. Send your Holy Spirit upon them to be their helper and guide. Give them the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of right judgment and courage, the spirit of knowledge and reverence. Fill them with the spirit of wonder and awe in your presence. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

Each one is then anointed with Holy Chrism, the archbishop dipping his thumb in the oil and making a small cross on their forehead. He addresses them by the special name they have chosen, the name of a saint whom they choose as their patron, and says, “(Name), be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit,” to which the person replies, “Amen.” The archbishop shakes their hand or embraces them, saying “Peace be with you,” to which the newly confirmed replies, “And also with you.” 

After a joyful round of thunderous applause to welcome all the new members of our family (thousands and thousands and thousands all over the world yesterday!!!) the acolytes and deacons prepare the altar for the Liturgy of the Eucharist, which I will try and write about tomorrow; there is probably enough here (too much, perhaps!) to entertain you all until then!

Good Friday.

Few days of the year move my heart like this day.

The Bride is dressed all in black, veiled in mourning.

Where has the Groom gone? He has gone to die. And now it is that we must bury Him.

 

There is no Mass, no celebration of thanksgiving. No organ plays, no bells are rung. All is hushed; even the day was still, humid and wet from constant rain.

 

The people gathered in silence and all was hushed save for the echoing cry of a baby or the innocent question of a small child spoken in too loud a voice. 

 

All the acolytes, dressed in black cassock and white surplice, lined up quietly near the back of the cathedral and processed out toward the front entrance, two-by-two. Soon we began processing up the aisle, followed by the deacons, priests and the archbishop. We were halfway up the aisle, walking slowly and quietly, before people suddenly noticed and began to stand. They are taken unawares; this is not the norm. Usually there is an opening song, a word of welcome.

Not this day.

We enter the sanctuary and go immediately to our seats. All mark themselves with the Sign of the Cross before the archbishop offers the opening prayer. 

Our first reading is from Isaiah 52:13-53:12.

We all chant the antiphon for Psalm 31 afterward while the choir intones the verses in a haunting, mournful melody.

We listen to the second reading from Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9.

There is yet no Alleluia; all Lent we anticipate the Gospel’s acclamation with a solemn “Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ, King of endless glory.”

This day, like Palm Sunday, the Gospel is read as a drama, a recounting of Our Lord’s Passion and Death. It is John’s account and is read by three deacons: one as narrator, one as the various voices such as Peter, Pilate, etc., and another as the voice of Jesus.

Here we receive a most poignant reminder of our own sinfulness, for the congregation plays the part of the crowd. Our few lines are as follows:

 

-Jesus says, “Whom are you looking for?” We as the mob say, “Jesus the Nazorean.”

-We later ask Peter three times, “You are not one of His disciples, are you?”

-Pilate asks us, “What charge do you bring against this man?” We respond, “If he were not a criminal, we would not have handed him over to you.” He tells us that we ought to judge him ourselves and we say, “We do not have the right to execute anyone.“

-Pilate asks us who we want to be released to us and we shout, “Not this one but Barabbas!“

-Jesus is then mocked and beaten, dressed as a king and we, in the role of those brutish soldiers, say “Hail, King of the Jews!“

-We soon all shout out (imagine hundreds of people in a cavernous cathedral shouting) “Crucify him, crucify him!“ 

-Pilate tries to release him and we say, “If you release him, you are not a friend of Caesar. Everyone who makes himself a king opposes Caesar.”

-Pilate says, “Behold your king!” We say (this part is always so chilling to me), “Take him away, take him away! Crucify him!“

-”Shall I crucify your king?” the Roman asks. We say (and oh, how often we sinners say the same!), “We have no king but Caesar.“

-Pilate writes the charge and we say, “Do not write ‘The King of the Jews’ but that he said ‘I am the King of the Jews.‘”

-We then again are brutish soldiers, having already rent His flesh, and now disputing over His clothing we say, “Let’s not tear it, but cast lots for it to see whose it will be.“

 

Soon enough the voice of Jesus says “It is finished” and the narrator reads, “And bowing his head, he handed over the Spirit.” Everyone in the cathedral, having been standing during the whole of the narrative, kneels for several minutes in homage to our Dear King. We then stand for the remainder.

 

After the Passion Play the whole Church throughout the world offers a series of ten particular prayers:

I. For the Church

II. For the Pope

III. For all ministers and laity of the Church.

IV. For those preparing for Baptism.

V. For the unity of Christians.

VI. For the Jewish people (being that they were the first people to hear the word of God and in gratitude for the heritage we have received from them, we pray that they may always be faithful to the covenant and we pray for their well-being).

VII. For those who do not believe in Christ.

VIII. For those who do not believe in God.

IX. For all in public office.

X. For those in special need (the sick, suffering, hungry, homeless, etc.). 

 

Each prayer is offered by the deacon, after which all are invited to kneel for a few minutes, and then we stand as the archbishop lifts that prayer up, offering it to Our Lord, to which we all say, “Amen.”

 

Then comes the one of the most moving times of the whole Church year: the Veneration of the Cross. A large crucifix is carried up the center aisle, stopping twice enroute and once after having entered the sanctuary, flanked by two acolytes bearing tall candles. The deacon carrying the Cross, at each of the three stops, chants, “This is the wood of the Cross, on which hung the Savior of the world.” The congregation chants in response, “Come, let us worship.”

The Cross is then laid upon the steps leading up to the altar. A deacon helps the archbishop to remove his meiter, his chasuble, and then the archbishop removes his shoes. Going to the crucifix he gets down on his hands and knees and kisses the cross. Two-by-two all the concelebrating priests do the same, followed by the deacons and acolytes. First we genuflect, then we kiss the Cross, often on the feet of the corpus or, in this case, upon the space in which a relic of the True Cross is contained, but really anywhere upon the Cross is perfectly fine. Then a deacon carries the Cross to the front row of the pews so that the disabled people my venerate the Cross by kissing, touching or otherwise expressing some sign of devotion. This is one time of the year when all people may publicly express their heartfelt gratitude for the passion and death of Christ, embracing the Cross by which they have come to inherit eternal life.

Every year there is this little girl who has glasses and a black beret; she is wheelchair-bound. My first year here she was pushed along by her mother and, leaning forward to try and kiss the Cross, she couldn’t reach so she kissed her fingertips and touched them to the Cross instead. Noticing this, the deacon picked up the Cross and held it out to her so that she could kiss it. The look of joy on that little girl’s face stirred my heart so deeply, and the love you could see just glowing in her as she kissed the feet of Christ was enough to make you hope in just about anything. I have never forgotten that moment. There she was again this year, except they brought the Cross to her.

This year there was a tall, African-American man who was blind. A kind elderly woman led him by the arm to where the Cross was and, holding out his hand, showed him where it was. He gently touched the Cross and smiled as though he was meeting an old friend and, after a few soft words, asked the woman to help him back to his seat.

For the next hour or so, as the choir sang beautiful, solemn music, one by one the whole congregation came to venerate the Cross and to pay homage to their slain King.

There were men and women, young and old.

There were mothers with their little babies in arm or in a large sling, or fathers with their little ones in arm. There was even a tiny little girl with long blond hair and a pink shirt being led by her mother, a beautiful young woman with a white mantilla upon her head. The little girl ran to the Cross as though to a beloved father and hugged the upright beam, kissed it, and turned around, holding her arms out wide as she ran back to her mother and hugged her legs.

An elderly woman came forward so slowly, leaning on her cane, and it took her a long time to bend over far enough to kiss His feet. But you could tell by the look of love on her face that she would not settle for kissing Him anywhere else.

Men and women of every race came forward. Rich and poor, well-dressed and disheveled. Even a few nurses from the nearby hospital came forward in their scrubs.

Missionaries of Charity, sisters of the same order as Mother Theresa, came forward in long, flowing white trimmed in blue, mourning the death of their Spouse and offering their heartfelt, loving farewell-for-now.

Three other sisters, all of whom are dear friends of mine, came forward as well, dressed in long flowing black with matching veils. It was watching the one to whom I am best acquainted kiss the feet of Christ with such tenderness and love that made me cry. 

And so this continued, on and on, and eventually golden light began pouring in through the stained-glass windows of the west transept as the sun began its downward course. Once the last person came forward the Cross was taken back into the sanctuary and mounted behind the altar as though upon Golgotha, and all looked up to it. The ciborium, taken away at yesterday’s Mass, was brought out by a deacon wrapped in a red humeral veil, placed upon the altar, and the archbishop led us all in an “Our Father.” 

After this he took a consecrated Host from the ciborium and turned, holding it up even as the Cross standing tall behind him, and he said, “This is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to His supper.” We respond, as always but now understanding more poignantly, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word and I shall be healed.”

The Hosts in the ciborium were then shared among several smaller ones for distribution among the people. It was no coincidence that this was all done beneath the shadow of that great crucifix, reminding us that the Church was born from that pierced side and will forever draw its own life from the self-offered Body and Blood of the Crucified. 

The choir sings as all come forward again to receive that life from the Cross upon which Our Savior died, fulfilling His Word: “Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life within you.”

Once all have been fed, the ciborium again taken away, the archbishop offers a prayer before the priests, deacons and acolytes all process out in silence. Even after the service, while we are putting away our vestments and such, everything is spoken in a hushed voice. We aren’t even aware that we are going it; while walking out to the van, outside in the open air, still we are speaking in hushed voices. The hush carries on through much of the day.

The storms roll in.

 

My favorite time of the year: the Triduum.

Holy Week.

If one were to see the Mass as the Wedding Feast of the Lamb (which it is) and the Church as a Bride (which she is!), for me it is like Daily Mass would be the Bride running up the aisle in her jogging clothes, just having arrived. Though she is dressed plainly, simply and is somewhat on-the-go she is no less beautiful for it and the Feast no less satisfying. But it is brief, to the point, and once it is over you are off and running. Daily Mass is surely the Passover ideal: eat with your loins girt, sandals on, staff in hand, ready to get back to work.

Sunday Mass is the family meal where once a week all your relatives from around the local area gather at whoever has the biggest house. The Bride wears a nice Sunday dress and is gorgeous as always and really takes some care not only in what is being served but also in the presentation. Sunday Mass is a bit longer than Daily Mass, especially since there is usually music and a slightly longer homily, plus an extra reading and more people who receive the Eucharist. Sunday Mass is the highlight of the week, something to look forward to.

A Feast Day, in particular a Solemnity (basically a major feast) like, Christ the King, Corpus Christi, The Assumption of Mary (a personal favorite!) is a bit more magnificent. It is like a Sunday Mass that falls on a different day of the week though some dioceses and parishes are given permission to move the feast to the Sunday after so that more people can come and celebrate. Depending on the occasion there will be certain songs sung, certain prayers, liturgical colors (normally white), and other special touches. These liturgies are like family get-togethers that take place once a year for very special occasions, like the birthday of a grandparent, a wedding anniversary. Actually, I think Thanksgiving would be a good comparison. It isn’t the biggest family gathering of the year and perhaps not the fanciest, nicest meal, but it is a step above the Sunday meal. The Bride is wearing that special dress she only wears on certain occasions and she is just glowing, singing to herself as she goes about serving all her guests. What a pity there are so few solemnities in the year!

Christmas is a massive feast, possibly having become the most anticipated and celebrated one of the year. A huge banquet, ancient and cherished traditions, special music we only sing once a year, a glorious liturgy, and memories that tug at our hearts. It is joyful; how could you not love a little baby, especially since we already know His future? The Bride is wearing her best dress, her hair is done specially for the occasion, and there hasn’t yet been a feast to match this one. This is more than a simple family affair; all the friends and neighbors come to this as well.

But the Triduum–Holy Thursday, Good Friday and the Easter Vigil–this is all quite different. You see, we have three distinct celebrations but, really, it is all one massive liturgy. All three celebrations blend into one another, leading us through the Last Supper, the Lord’s Passion and Death, the quiet of the tomb and the sudden, eye-popping, heart-stopping magnificence of the Resurrection.

 

Yesterday was a day of special greatness. 

Firstly was the Chrism Mass, which traditionally takes place on morning Holy Thursday, though some dioceses celebrate it earlier. This Mass is wonderful because priests from all over come to concelebrate, and it is during this liturgy that the oils used for baptism (oil of catechumens), anointing of the sick and the special, perfumed chrism used for the three-fold purpose of anointing the confirmed, ordaining a priest and consecrating a bishop are blessed. At the Cathedral Basilica nearly the whole place was filled with over fifty seminarians, some Domincans and Jesuits in studies (including myself), goodness knows HOW many priests (easily two hundred) not only from the archdiocese but also from various religious orders, nuns and sisters, hundreds of Catholic school children in their uniforms, and hundreds more lay people. In the sanctuary was the archbishop, two auxiliary bishops and even a mitered abbot from the local Benedictine abbey. The choir filled the whole, massive space with glorious music and it was all just absolutely spectacular.

Most moving was the part of the Mass when all the priests renew their promises. The archbishop asks:

“My brothers, today we celebrate the memory of the first Eucharist, at which our Lord Jesus Christ shared with his apostles and with us his call to the priestly service of His Church. Now, in the presence of your bishop and God’s holy people, are you ready to renew your own dedication to Christ as priests of His new covenant?”

The many priests assembled say, “I am.”

“At your ordination you accepted the responsibilities of the priesthood out of love for the Lord Jesus and His Church. Are you resolved to unite yourselves more closely to Christ and to try to become more like Him by joyfully sacrificing your own pleasure and ambition to bring his peace and love to your brothers and sisters?

“I am.”

“Are you resolved to be faithful ministers of the mysteries of God, to celebrate the Eucharist and the other liturgical services with sincere devotion? Are you resolved to imitate Jesus Christ, the head and shepherd of the Church, by teaching the Christian faith without thinking of your own profit, solely for the well-being of the people you were sent to serve?”

“I am.”

And to the rest of the people present the archbishop asks:

“My brothers and sisters, pray for your priests. Ask the Lord to bless them with the fullness of his love, to help them be faithful ministers of Christ the High Priest, so that they will be able to lead you to Him, the fountain of your salvation.”

We all pray: “Lord Jesus Christ, hear us and answer our prayer.”

“Pray also for me that despite my own unworthiness I may faithfully fulfill the office of apostle which Jesus Christ entrusted to me. Pray that I may become more like our High Priest and Good Shepherd, the teacher and servant of all, and so be a genuine sign of Christ’s loving presence among you.”

“Lord Jesus Christ, hear us and answer our prayer.

“May the Lord in his love keep you close to Him always, and may He bring all of us, his priests and people, to eternal life.”

“Amen.”

 

Later that day my brothers and I returned to the Cathedral to prepare for the Mass of the Lord’s Supper.

What a Mass! There was the Bride in her wedding dress, veiled and glorious though shrouded in mystery. It was all so solemn yet joyful, and my goodness what a brilliant grace it was to sing the Gloria again! During the season of Lent the Gloria is only sung on Solemnities so this year it was twice: the Feast of St. Joseph, Husband of Mary and the Feast of the Annunciation. Ah to have the organ thundering and the choir crying out “Glory to God, glory in the highest/peace to His people, peace on earth!”

After this, however, all the music was done, beautifully, a capella. Everything quickly took a turn from exuberant to solemn (not sad, mind you, but sort of bittersweet); even the bell that is rung to signal particularly important moments during the Eucharistic liturgy is replaced by a sort of wooden clapper that makes a loud, unsettling “clack! clack!” And so the table was set, the meal prepared, the Bride still glowing and beautiful standing by as she awaited the Groom and thus He came and stood beside her. 

And then.

Once the guests had partaken of the feast, just before the Bride and Groom exchanged their rings, a strange thing happens. The Groom is taken away.

The ciborium, which is sort of like a golden chalice with a lid upon it, is a special vessel in which we keep the Blessed Sacrament. Were you to open a tabernacle, this is what you would see. It is also often brought out during the Mass, right before communion, in case more Hosts are needed so that Christ may be with each person present, and likewise in which to reserve whatever is not consumed (since you do not simply put the Body of Christ back with the normal bread, nor do you toss Him out!). 

At the end of this Mass, however, the archbishop dons a humeral veil (a large cape-like vestment), takes the ciborium, wraps it up within some of the veil, and follows a long solemn procession through the cathedral, led by the choir which sings:

PANGE, lingua, gloriosi Corporis mysterium, Sanguinisque pretiosi, quem in mundi pretium fructus ventris generosi Rex effudit Gentium.	SING, my tongue, the Savior’s glory, of His flesh the mystery sing; of the Blood, all price exceeding, shed by our immortal King, destined, for the world’s redemption, from a noble womb to spring.
Nobis datus, nobis natus ex intacta Virgine, et in mundo conversatus, sparso verbi semine, sui moras incolatus miro clausit ordine.	Of a pure and spotless Virgin born for us on earth below, He, as Man, with man conversing, stayed, the seeds of truth to sow; then He closed in solemn order wondrously His life of woe.
In supremae nocte cenae recumbens cum fratribus observata lege plene cibis in legalibus, cibum turbae duodenae se dat suis manibus.	On the night of that Last Supper, seated with His chosen band, He the Pascal victim eating, first fulfills the Law’s command; then as Food to His Apostles gives Himself with His own hand.
Verbum caro, panem verum verbo carnem efficit: fitque sanguis Christi merum, et si sensus deficit, ad firmandum cor sincerum sola fides sufficit.	Word-made-Flesh, the bread of nature by His word to Flesh He turns; wine into His Blood He changes;- what though sense no change discerns? Only be the heart in earnest, faith her lesson quickly learns.
Tantum ergo Sacramentum veneremur cernui: et antiquum documentum novo cedat ritui: praestet fides supplementum sensuum defectui.	Down in adoration falling, Lo! the sacred Host we hail; Lo! o’er ancient forms departing, newer rites of grace prevail; faith for all defects supplying, where the feeble sense fail.
Genitori, Genitoque laus et iubilatio, salus, honor, virtus quoque sit et benedictio: procedenti ab utroque compar sit laudatio. Amen.	To the everlasting Father, and the Son who reigns on high, with the Holy Ghost proceeding forth from Each eternally, be salvation, honor, blessing, might and endless majesty. Amen.

 Here is a sample: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rF1rGoJJmo&feature=related

The procession eventually leads to the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, the archbishop then placing the ciborium inside the tabernacle. Dozens of lit candles fill the room, tiled from floor to ceiling in golden mosaics, with light. The rest of the Cathedral is plunged into darkness, the altar is stripped of its linens, plants and flowers are removed, any crucifix and many statues are veiled and all is left bare. Imagine if you were are a large celebration and, just after you’d finished eating, a mob came, took away the guest of honor, and took everything away.

More devastating yet, imagine a wedding at which the priest says “You may now kiss the bride” and just as the couple leans in to kiss, right before their lips touch, the Groom is spirited away by brutish men all in black. This is the feeling of the end of this particular Mass. Oftentimes, for example, this liturgy will be followed by a prayer service, all candlelit in a dark place, called tenebrae, at the end of which there is a period of time when a huge racket is made–in this case all the seminarians pound books along the backs of their seats, filling the space with quite a thunderous sound–and then it suddenly stops. The end. Go home.

 

I don’t know about you, but were I that Bride or were I in attendance, I’d go looking for the Groom! 

 

Wouldn’t you know that there is just that kind of tradition in the Church? Of course there is!

So a group of my Jesuit brothers as well as a few friends piled into a big 15-passenger van and went about the city to visit seven different churches and to pray for a few minutes with Our Lord, the main tabernacle of every church with their door hanging open, empty, sad in a way, while a side chapel or some special place was set up on the side where the faithful may go and find Him. It was so much fun driving around in the sad, cold rain, knowing that Our Lord has been taken away and is being led closer and closer to the Cross of Good Friday, searching for Him and, unlike His terrified apostles, finding Him everywhere we look. We did this from after the two-hour Mass (around 9:30pm) until about 11:45, at which time we went to get a bit to eat before the day of fasting began.

 

Today we spent the morning in prayerful reflection (or trying to write a reflective blog entry for you!), and this afternoon at 3pm I will be at the Cathedral Basilica again for the Good Friday service. Here the Bride will be dressed in mourning, having traded white for black, no less beautiful but her joy so very dim. There is NO MASS on this day; it is the only day of the year when the Mass is not celebrated (otherwise, around the world, throughout the 23 churches all in communion with one another, Mass is celebrated in every language around 300,000 times a day, and even more often on Sundays!). Instead we receive communion, being given the Body of Christ as it was consecrated the day previous, again having the grace of being with Him on this day whereas His apostles were left with nothing. Today is a day of fasting, a day of quiet and if you are in St. Louis, a day of clouds, rain and storm. I will try and post later about the Good Friday service this evening. God bless all of you this sad day, and remember what He suffered not so that you would owe Him anything, but simply because He loves you…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HOLY FATHER!

 

Please pray for Pope Benedict XVI today on his birthday; being the pastor of over a billion people ain’t easy work, especially when I’M one of them!

“Take this, all of you, and eat of it. This is my body, which is given up for you.“

 

Eternal Father, I offer you the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, of your dearly beloved Son Our Lord, Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.

 

Where will you be this weekend? I’ll be singing HERE!

Friday, Saturday and Sunday I’ll be performing with the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus as we offer Samuel Barber’s “Prayers of Kirkegaard” and Gustav Mahler’s 2nd Symphony, also known as his “Resurrection” Symphony. It is going to be spectacular!

 

http://www.stlpublicradio.org/listen.php

 

From here you can pick which option you would like as far as Windows Live or Streaming goes, but I believe the actual station you want is “90.7 FM KWMU-1″

Enjoy!

 

PS- For those of you who will be tuning in, make sure to hang in there for the end of Mahler’s 2nd Symphony; the vocals are heart-meltingly beautiful. Here is the English translation:

Rise again, yes, rise again,

Will you My dust,

After a brief rest!

Immortal life! Immortal life

Will He who called you, give you.

To bloom again were you sown!

The Lord of the harvest goes

And gathers in, like sheaves,

Us together, who died.

O believe, my heart, O believe:

Nothing to you is lost!

Yours is, yes yours, is what you desired

Yours, what you have loved

What you have fought for!

O believe,

You were not born for nothing!

Have not for nothing, lived, suffered!

What was created

Must perish,

What perished, rise again!

Cease from trembling!

Prepare yourself to live!

O Pain, You piercer of all things,

From you, I have been wrested!

O Death, You masterer of all things,

Now, are you conquered!

With wings which I have won for myself,

In love’s fierce striving,

I shall soar upwards

To the light which no eye has penetrated!

Its wing that I won is expanded,

and I fly up.

Die shall I in order to live.

Rise again, yes, rise again,

Will you, my heart, in an instant!

That for which you suffered,

To God will it lead you!

Resurrection Symphony indeed!

 

PART III

I returned to my cabin after returning my dishes and such from dinner, and it began to rain very steadily. I am a tremendous fan of rain on a tin roof, so I was in heaven from Moment 1. However, as I began preparing myself for the triple colloquy, I realized that the rain could be a potential distraction. My past experience of the triple colloquy I imagined taking place in an enormous castle and I intially considered “going back” there. However, being deep inside a great castle would make it difficult to hear the rain, and my little cabin was full of that sound. So I decided to have this colloquy elsewhere, some place that would incorporate the sound of rain into it so it wouldn’t be a distraction. I decided to meet my Mother here where I live so that I wouldn’t have to try too hard to imagine anywhere else. I remembered that in the dining room of my house is a skylight above a nice couch, which would be a perfect place to meet. I pictured the very familiar place in my mind as I sat on my bed, and let myself enter into prayer. I will just type up what I wrote after my time of prayer:

 

I imagined waiting in my room. I’d just closed my laptop and looked to see what time it was. Almost 2pm. I knew that Mary would be arriving soon and would meet me in the dining room, beneath the skylight.

(The view of the sidewalk outside my window)

Sure enough, through the pouring rain she came, carrying a black umbrella. She was wearing a light blue habit and a white veil. I heard the door to the house open and close, and I waited several minutes before walking down the stairs.

(The couch in the dining room, beneath the skylight)

As soon as I saw her through the doorway, sitting there on the couch looking out through the stained glass, my heart melted. She looked at me and smiled, rising to her feet.

She embraced me and I felt so tangibly consoled and my eyes brimmed with tears. I kept saying, “O Mother, my beautiful, perfect Mother,” over and over again. After a time we say and I offered her my Hail Mary before sharing my request: I desired to know God’s will regarding my father. She offered to accompany me to see her Son in the chapel. Before this, however, I asked if I might remain here with her a while longer, since it had been so long since I had spend any real time with her. So I lay my head on her lap and I recounted that time during the Exercises when I visited her in the castle, and how different I was then when she was only my queen and not yet my mother. Everything has changed so much.

Soon I was giving her a tour of all our houses before we came finally to the chapel house. She had me wait  in the dining room for several minutes while she spoke with her Son. I saw quietly and prepared myself by reflecting on the sins I would confess before asking Him my favor.

(The side chapel…………………………………………………………..the tabernacle)

Mary soon returned and led me into the chapel. I knelt outside the bars of the side chapel and said, “Bless me, Lord, for I have sinned; it has been about two weeks since my last confession.” I told Jesus all the sins I could think of and after a time of silence He asked to have my act of contrition.

“Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you, and I no longer deserve to be called your son. Yet you throw the robe of salvation about my shoulders and above all you give me the Body and Blood of your Son as a feast. Therefore I confess my sins and promise to do penance in gratitude for all your labors on my behalf, that I may more fully accept the abundant life you offer me as your son.”

Jesus then raised His pierced hand toward my head and said, “Jacob, by the power of the Holy Spirit and the authority my Father has given me, by my suffering and death on the cross, I absolve you of your sins in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

I felt such a peace and a rush…and I rose to my feet to enter the side chapel and immediately knelt to kiss His feet…I then knelt where the tabernacle normally would be (since Jesus was there already!), with Mother beside me. She shared with Him the favor I was seeking, and He suggested we walk together to the Basilica to speak with the Father about it. We then rose and embraced each other, and Mother embraced us both. A few thorns of His crown pricked my head and I asked, “Will I have to wear that crown one day?” Not a word was spoken but I felt a rush in my body and knew what the truth was. “Yes,” I thought, “My God, of course; if I am to be your son I must be a king and wear the crown He wore…just promise to prepare me so that when the day comes I may say ‘yes’ with a joyful heart.”

(Interior from the main entrance, looking toward the sanctuary)

(You can see the confessional behind the baptismal font and Easter candle.)

We then walked to the Basilica and Mary had me wait on the bench outside the confessional while Jesus entered. Eventually she led me to the curtained side for “face-to-face” confession but put a black cloth over my head. (I understood that she didn’t want me to behold the face of God, since that only gets to happen once!!) After she guided me carefully into my seat I offered an Our Father and presented my request. There was only silence. I asked Him if perhaps He has entrusted things to my Mother on the matter, since I received such consolation when going to her in the beginning, of course only to help me come even more fully to Him. I then realized that, of course, if I am to be God’s son I must be raised by her as He was. She brought Him up and did not lead Him astray, and so she would do with me. I knew then in that moment that God my Father would always be with me and would never fail to provide for me. I thanked Him and asked if He would give me His blessing. I felt His hand resting atop my head and…I have never before felt such bliss and joy coursing through me as in that moment, and I do not know how long it lasted. There where moments when I was so consumed by the experience that I utterly forgot everything else, including where I was, that I was kneeling on the floor of my cabin, that it was still raining, etc. and slipped as though beneath the surface of the waters of joy, losing everything but the feeling of His love in my whole self.

When He withdrew His hand I offered a Glory Be, kissed that hand, and departed for home. My last sight was from my room, watching Mary depart under her black umbrella in the rain.

Praise God forever, you are so kind to me.

Earlier today you made me aware of two important things:

First, that St. Joseph died while Christ was yet young. Thus He came to rely on His true Father all the sooner. You affirmed your Fatherhood at His Baptism. To more closely conform to your Son, you have worked similarly and with much mercy in my own life. What father do I have now, save the Father that adopted me at Rebirth?

Second and most vitally, while contemplating the Finding of Jesus in the Temple, I realized that my perspective on the matter is all wrong. It is not that my father is removing himself from me or even that you are taking him away. Rather, as with your young Son in the Temple, you are removing me from him, drawing me more closely to Yourself. This is all your doing, all of it. At first I thought you were bringing me consolation amidst brokeness–”reacting” as it were. But I see more clearly that this is what you have desired all along. You are so good to me, Father, so very good.

 

 

So there you have it, my Xanga brothers and sisters. Please accept this very personal sharing as a gift, and do not be crest-fallen or envious. I promise you that the Father has the same love for each of you, though He will teach each of you according to who you are and where you are in your life with Him. Not all of us can step out of the world for a couple of days like this but I promise you, if you make a habit of silence in your life, even just several minutes every day and just try to be quiet and listen, you’ll hear Him.

God bless all of you.

PART II

In the last entry I shared a bit what was weighing on my heart as I looked to making that little retreat. I felt very much orphaned, as though my father was little by little abandoning me. Now no one just dives head-first into a silent retreat; you ease into it. Would you do a cannonball into a hot tub? Of course not! You slowly go in so that once your body has adjusted to the extreme difference, you can actually enjoy it. Silence is the same way.

I arrived at the retreat area on Friday morning. It was a series of little, prefabricated buildings on a ridge, tall trees rising up everywhere. The sisters and brothers used a bell to communicate with everyone else, with a certain combination of rings and pauses signalling a specific person or noting a certain time for prayer. Once I met up with the sister in charge of getting retreatants settled in I parked my car and followed her to the little cabin I showed in the previous entry. Here is the interior: 

My bed……………………………………………………………………….my desk (and breviary and water bottle!)…………………………closet and bathroom.

So this was my little home for the next couple of days. Perfect! I spent Friday just reading, writing letters, praying and eating at meal times. Meals were prepared in advance and you would come to the kitchen and grab the styrofoam cooler with your cabin’s number on it and take it back to your hermitage. The food as well was simple but hey, it keeps you going! Friday was simple, restful and quiet. By the time I awoke early Saturday morning for Mass, I was used to the quiet. No laptop, no phones, no music, nothing. Just the sound of wind in the trees and birds.

This is the chapel:

Outside………………………………………………………………………inside………………………………………………………..what a blessing to have JESUS RIGHT HERE!!!

 

One of my favorite things about this simple chapel is that the tops of the chairbacks have the lacquer and paint all worn off from years and years of people kneeling to pray and resting their arms on them. I don’t know if you can see that well in this picture or any of the others, but I’ll never forget that touching detail.

After Mass I began my day of prayer. I had previously arranged for four, one hour periods of prayer during which time I would contemplate four aspects of Christ’s life. Since I was seeking the grace of knowing just how I ought to love and relate to my father now, “I” decided (thank you, Holy Spirit!) to first contemplate part of the Last Supper Discourse from John where Christ talks about His Father. Then after a time to rest (I napped off-and-on all day; I was so exhausted) I spent an hour contemplating the Finding of Jesus in the Temple, where even there looking St. Joseph in the face Jesus identifies who His Father really is. During the afternoon I went on a glorious hike:

Down the steps (though this is a view looking UP the steps!)….through the trees………………………..a charming brook…………

 

…..the waterbugs are out!………………………………………….continuing on the path………………………….Our Lady of the Spring………….

………..the deep forest…………………………………………..a very fall-like day…………………………………..a lonely leaf……………….

 

……….a reminder that my Mother prays for me…………………a sign of spring!

 

When I returned to my cabin I re-centered myself and contemplated Christ’s Baptism and after dinner I spent my final prayer hour contemplating His resurrection, when He tells Mary Magdalene that He is ascending to His Father and her Father…

During the contemplation of Finding Christ in the Temple, I realized that Jesus, too, lost St. Joseph at a young age. How young we’ll never know, but it happened. I began to understand that since I am called to live the life of Christ, I will share in all of His joys, yes, but in all of His suffering as well. I was so consoled by this reminder because not only did I realize that Christ understood what I was going through, but He was with me through, with and in it. I also realized that it was not so much my father that was separating himself from me, but rather that my Father in Heaven was drawing me closer to Himself, which means that there will be people in my life that I will experience a growing distance from. While it is still a painful reality to let go of my father, to know that this is all God’s action comforts me tremendously. These were two of the graces I received on this retreat that I feel could be helpful to just about everyone (at least, I hope so!). Remember that you, too, are living the life of Christ and will at times share in His suffering; never forget that He is right there alongside you! Also remember that as you grow closer to God you may find a distance growing between you and some of the people in your life, even people that mean a great deal to you. Do not be afraid! 

These realizations fed directly into the following contemplations, reminding me that God has chosen me as His son at my baptism and that He loves me (me?!?!?) and likewise if I share in Christ’s suffering and I am yet faithful, I will also share in His rising (I cannot wait!). 

One would think these graces were enough to tide me over for quite some time. But, as we often discover, God never doles out His grace in amounts considered “good enough;” He is always over doing things. That night I dedicated the last hours of my day to what is called a “triple colloquy.” You enter into it first seeking a particular favor of God. Then you imagine the place where you will first approach Our Lady and talk the matter over with her. Then when you have, with her loving help, sorted things out the both of you go to Christ and converse with each other regarding the same matter. It is, believe me, such a grace to have His mother there with you; especially since you are basically telling Jesus “I have no wine” and His mother can give Him the eye and say, “Remember Cana? Help this one, too!” Finally, when you have had a fine conversation with Christ, the three of you go and talk to the Father. It is a prayer form that was gifted to the Church through St. Ignatius of Loyola and is used frequently throughout the Spiritual Exercises. I remember them being so fruitful when I made that retreat so I decided this time, on my very little retreat, to give it another try.

This is where God particularly outdid Himself.

 

NOTE: So apparently the pictures are crooked/don’t match with the words like they did when I was writing the post. But you are smart!