Hey all! Say hello to my friend, Rachel:

She and I were instant and close friends my first year in St. Louis. She was at the time very much in love with the finest man I have ever before met and likely ever will and I just watched via streaming live video her becoming engaged!

My Rachel, whom I walked through the rain, with whom I sang in the choir, with whom we would go on and on about how awesome St. Athanasius’ “On the Incarnation Is” and so much else that year, is now SISTER Rachel Marie of the Eucharistic Lamb! She has received her habit, donned her new veil and will, God-willing wear her bridal dress for all her life. She still has several years left before she is finally professed and wed to Our Lord, but she is well on her way and my goodness, was her face BEAMING! I’ve never seen a more thrilled and happy bride-to-be in all my life. 

 

Not that I’ve had a lot of life to boast of yet, I suppose!

 

So congrats, Sr. Rachel! I’m sure the two of you will be very, very happy together, perpetually poor (but eternally rich, having Christ!), perpetually virgin (but never lacking in love and companionship in Him!), and perpetually obedient (yet being completely free in Him!)!

 

In a couple of days I will try and wrap up my retreat synopsis and after that get started on all your great questions!

 

The following are thoughts and such that I recorded in my journal from when I was on retreat. Once I unloaded my heart and had the freedom to let God do the work He wanted to do in there, my director had me take John 14-18 to prayer over the next few days, and so I noted verses that stuck out to me, especially as they pertained to my desire to better know the Father.

John 14:4- I know the Way to the Father, since I know Christ.

14:9- If I ask Jesus anything in His name, He will do it, because the Father loves me and desires to provide for me, and Jesus never fails to do the Father’s will.

14:18- He will not leave me an orphan; the Father cares for me through Christ’s work in my life.

14:21- If I love Christ I will also be loved by the Father, since my heart and the Father’s heart would be one in our shared love for His Son.

15:23- I am being pruned constantly not in punishment but so that I might bear even more fruit; any suffering in my life is the Father’s work for my own good and His greater glory.

15:8- A father is glorified, or not, by the life of the son. A good, obedient son glorifies his father; a poor, disobedient son shames him.

15:10- A son is known by his obedience, his self-forgetfulness toward his own father, choosing his father’s will over his own so that the father, in a sense, lives through the life of the son in the world. 

15:16- HE chooses ME!

 

The greatest failure of my life is also my greatest joy: that I can never repay the Lord for the kindness He has shown me.

 

Jesus is the model of the Father’s desire for me; Trinitarian love in the most human of terms. The right desire for me is not for Jesus to teach me about the Father but to know the Father by knowing Jesus better, since I cannot know God as Father without being a son and I cannot thus know myself as a son without knowing Christ.

 

John 16:24- By asking in Jesus’ name we ask as God’s son–in persona Christi, in a sense–and not merely through Him. Thus we cannot be refused our request, since the Father would be refusing His own Begotten.

16:32- I am not alone, ever, because I am united to Christ and the Father is never apart from Him.

17:16- I do not belong to the world but God shares me with the world.

17:24- (This was one of the key graces of my retreat and has totally changed my life. Let it change yours; read the verse!) I am the Father’s GIFT to Jesus! Jesus’ desire is that wherever He is, I am also. This means I was the Father’s to begin with and now I belong to both He and the Son. Salvation is Christ’s care for that gift and His preparing mankind to be given anew to the Father, through the Holy Spirit: this is the essence of Love in the Trinity. 

 

The crucifixion reveals Christ loving us in the same way He loves the Father–total self-emptying into the other. The Eucharist is the here-and-now continuation of this self-offering and self-emptying.

 

John 18:8- HE’S the one I’m looking for!

 

I am a gift to Christ from the Father. Vocation, then, is the Spirit’s invitation to me so that I can offer myself to Christ and be a willing participant in this exchange. Christ came so that we can know the One to Whom we have been given and love Him. His work within us is His way of preparing us as new gifts to the Father. We are caught in this great exchange of love between the Father and the Son. No wonder the Holy Spirit is of such importance in our Christian life, for we are completely immersed in Him from the moment we exist, since the Holy Spirit is the very Love that is exchanged–just as WE have been–between the Father and the Son. Christ on the cross is Trinitatian love made human. Because this love is CONSTANT and not merely a historic, single moment He establishes the Eucharist so that He is constantly offering Himself to the Father and to us, always emptying and pouring Himself into our whole person: food for the body, nourishment for the mind and life for the soul. This perpetual offering is made through the power of the Holy Spirit, as the Son makes His continual self-offering to the Father and has from all eternity. The Sacrament of the Eucharist–the mystery of Christ’s Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity that we truly receive under the appearance of bread and wine–, praise God, is our participation in the very life of the Holy Trinity.

From June 19th until June 27th I was at the Sacred Heart Jesuit Retreat House just outside of little Sedalia, Colorado. Every year each Jesuit is expected to make an eight-day silent retreat, so this is when and where I chose to make mine. My goodness, I don’t know if I could have chosen a more beautiful place!

Here are a few of the many, many pictures I took of the splendid scenery, trails and spectacular sunsets. And praise God for hammocks!!!

Sorry if your computer took forever to load these, but hopefully they were worth the wait!

The first day of my retreat I spent just quieting myself. I went for a walk, took a nap, etc. and in the afternoon I met with my spiritual director. He asked me a couple of questions about who I was, where I was from and how I came to enter the Society. These are all important things for a director to know; the more he knows about how God tends to work in my heart the better he can help to guide me through my retreat. Once I had shared the short-version of all that he asked what I was looking for in this retreat, what graces I was seeking. This set up what would characterize the rest of my days of silence: relationships.

I first talked to him about my father (link up for a basic explanation) and how all that was weighing on my heart, especially since after the retreat I was headed home to Iowa for his wedding. While in my past retreat (read the posts following the link for the scoop on that) God the Father brought me tremendous comfort and peace with things, still the events looming ahead weighed on me. Next I talked about my best friend who back in August entered a convent. She and I were very, very close and it has been hard to let go of her in my heart like I want to, to give her entirely over to Christ. I don’t want to hold anything back from Him; I want her to be totally His! I was exhausted being so selfish and wanted Jesus’ help in opening my heart to the freedom He offered. After all, we have so much trouble “giving up,” don’t we? We must give things up again and again, a little more each time, until we have nothing of our own save what God gives back to us and when He does it is even more wonderful than when we “lost it.” Anyways, that was where I started.

My director encouraged me to take some time that evening to go look for rocks (yes, my thoughts exactly!). He suggested I find a rock for each my father and my friend and then spend some time in prayer talking to Christ about each of them. When I feel ready I should then go to this enormous statue of the Ascension and entrust my father and my relationship with him to Christ, leaving the rock at the statue as a symbol of that surrender, and I should do the same with my friend at the statue of Our Lady (who I’m sure would turn it right over to her Son, as she ALWAYS does!). Then he suggested that when I was finished I ought to spend some time by that statue of the Ascension and just ponder that event prayerfully and imagine what it was like for the Apostles to “let go” of Christ in that moment, mere weeks after they had thought He had been taken away forever. 

So I did all that. I hunted for a couple of little stones and took time in the little side chapel of the retreat house to think first about my father and then about my friend. I tried recalling some of my earliest and most-cherished memories of my father and was greeted with a whole flood of them. I remember when I was three and we moved from our first house to the one I would live in for the next twenty-five years, and how I sat in the front of the big U-Haul with him and waved goodbye to my mother while he drove the first load of our things to the new house. I remember our upright grand piano that my dad bought at a church auction for $10; it was banana-yellow and if we begged him he would plunk out the themesongs for “Transformers” and “Ghostbusters.” I remembered fishing trips, Christmas mornings, building forts, hunting (including a time where I proudly marched along with my cap rifle and eventually got too tired to keep up and he had to turn around and take me home, spoiling his whole excursion! But he didn’t frown or complain at all), and so much more. I was just filled with gratitude for my father, regardless of the weight and suffering he had unknowingly been putting me through for the last many months. The next morning I went for a walk and brought all these memories to mind before hiding the stone beneath the statue and entrusting Him even moreso to Christ. Oh the chains that fell off when I had done that!

Similarly I spent time in the chapel calling to mind memories with my best friend. I remembered how nervous and skittish she always was, hesitant to do anything spur-of-the-moment (ah, college freshmen!). I remembered how she would never get any of the jokes our friends would tell amongst ourselves, and how I taught her to play games on the XBox like HALO, Star Wars: The Knights of the Old Republic (and the look on her face when she found out SHE was Darth Revan!!), or how we went camping at Backbone State Park for her birthday one year. I remembered how her roommate came to visit me in the novitiate and without telling me had brought my friend along too. The roommate arrived and said that she had some things in the trunk if I wouldn’t mind getting them, since she was tired. I thought it was a very unusual request since it wasn’t like she was going to spend the night or anything (her parents lived a short drive away) and so I said, “Well, I’ll bet (my friend) is hiding in there,” and sure enough I opened the trunk and immediately she popped out and beat her fists on my chest saying, “You ALWAYS ruin my surprises!” (She is TERRIBLE at surprises; I can see right through her every attempt to hide them). I remember hanging out with her at her apartment when she came to St. Louis for her masters and how we were gym buddies (otherwise neither of us would go at all), went to movies, Mass on Sunday mornings at the Basilica, visiting friends, etc. I remember especially the deep conversations we would have about the work Christ was doing in her heart and how she found herself falling more and more in love with Him and feeling that she could not be happy with any other man but the Son of Man Himself, how terrifying it was to think of her sins and that He still desired her to be totally His, and how she would weep sometimes after receiving the Eucharist just thinking about all of that. I remember in particular when we were sitting down at the Moolah Temple (a neat movie theater just off campus) getting ready to watch a midnight showing of “The Ghostbusters” and she suddenly had a little panic attack thinking about entering religious life and I had to calm her down a little bit. While it was bittersweet I also recalled our many little “last hurrahs” in the months leading up to her entrance, in particular the last time she brought me home to Iowa for my family visit. I could go on for pages and pages but, needless to say (funny how we always use that expression and continue writing/speaking regardless!) I was filled with so much gratitude for my friend.

The next morning I went on a little walk and first stopped by the statue of St. Francis of Assisi and spent some time in prayer with him (not talking to the statue of course; that is just silly!) and asking for his help, since he went through a similar experience with his close friend, St. Clare of Assisi. Then I went to the statue of Our Lady and set my little stone at her feet, asking for her prayers and her help in more perfectly giving my dear friend over to Christ. As with my father, I felt so much better afterwards, and after I spent some time later that day thinking about the Ascension of Our Lord I really felt ready to dive into my retreat with a heart ready and open. I figured these two burdens, having been laid down, would not really pop up in the retreat later, but little did I know they were merely the first lesson in understanding better the greatest mystery of them all: the Trinity.

Hello all!

Thank you for your patience and, for some of you, your messages of concern/curiosity for my extended absence from Xanga! Since my last post I graduated college (finally!). I remind myself of the line from Tommy Boy– Chris Farley: ”A lot of people go to college for seven years.” David Spade: “I know. They’re called doctors.” Well, even Tommy Boy got out of college before I did; I was in school for nine! Granted, God had all sorts of other plans but, needless to say, I’m glad to be taking a break from the books. 

After graduating I spent a couple of weeks at home tearing down our old chicken shed:

First my brother and I removed the side walls and then we just pushed the thing over. Last week when I was home again I tore the front and back walls and roof apart and now all that remains is a cement foundation and naught else.

After time at home I flew out to Cincinnati for a big gathering of all the Jesuits in my province as well as the Jesuits of the two provinces we are eventually combining with. It was great to see many of my brothers I hadn’t seen in well over a year.

Next I jetted down to New Orleans for a conference called “The Ministry of Management,” where we learned about business principles regarding human resources, finances, etc. and how to apply them to parish administration and non-profit organizations. I also got to see the French Quarter and the infamous Bourbon Street which, after around 4pm, gets pretty “sketch” as the kids are saying these days. However, late at night I looked down an alley and saw the back of the Cathedral. Though my pic is a bit blurry (given it was a night shot without a tripod) I think you can get the gist of just how encouraging and touching a reminder it was to see amidst the drunkeness, smelliness and mostly-undressed-ness of the neighborhood:

Finishing up after about a week I flew out to Sedalia, Colorado for an eight-day silent retreat. I am hoping to have time tomorrow to write at least the first part of a blog on my experience of that retreat, since such past posts have proven enlightening and/or helpful to people here on Xanga. After my retreat I was home for another week for my dad’s wedding (his second).

But before I do that I thought I would petition you all for suggestions regarding future posts. Besides blogging about my retreat, I thought I might do a series on the Seven Sacraments; besides that, though, I haven’t any ideas. 

Is there anything about myself or Catholicism or something else you would all like my thoughts on? This blog is for you! Were it simply a place for me to talk about myself, goodness, I’d have shut it down when I entered the Order!

Hey all!

 

My sister, Cheyanne, formerly BrowneyedGirl17 on Xanga, has been training to swim the English Channel in August to help raise money for a cancer center. She was interviewed on the radio today; here’s a link!

 

http://onlinemedia.iowapublicradio.org:8010/documents/news_stories/2646.mp3

 

Here’s her website:

 

http://crossingforacure.com/

 

Go give her money!!!!!!!!

As you are all aware, I recently performed “Carmina Burana” with the local symphony orchestra and chorus. If any of you have performed, listened to or otherwise have familiarized yourself with the work you also likely noticed that some of the lyrics are a bit…hmm…scandalous!

But, hey, it was the Middle Ages right? 

One of the traditions in the chorus is that when they are working on “Carmina Burana” members are encouraged to write limericks for the delight of all. Well, you know me. I like to write poems when I can! Also being a Jesuit means I try and do everything ad majorem dei gloriam: for the greater glory of God. So I didn’t stop at one limerick, oh no, but I decided to write some manner of poem for each portion of “Carmina Burana!” Below are the English translations of some of the pieces along with my accompanying poems. Enjoy!

III. Veris Laeta Facies

The happy face of Spring comes to the world. The army of Winter, conquered, is now put to flight. In gay clothes Flora rules, and she is praised by the sweet sound of the woods.

Stretched out in the lap of Flora Phoebus in his new way laughs – she is now covered with these gay flowers. Zephyrus goes blowing the scent of nectar. In competition for the prize let us run in the race of love.

Sweet Philomela accompanies her song with the lyre. The fields, now bright, smile with gay flowers. A flock of birds hop through the pleasant places of the wood. A dancing band of girls now brings a thousand joys.

“Spring” (a sonnet)

Winter’s desire for fair Spring sets aflame

the sun anew, melting…ah! A cool breath

on her nape, shiv’ring not a blossom’s mane;

again he dies a spurnéd suitor’s death.

Unmourned he fades and she, expectant bride

festoons the Lord of Summer’s verdant way

with scattered golden brooches dan-de-line,

her sweet-honeyed heart a rose, zephyr-swayed.

And lo her lover soon draws nigh to wed

this resplendent maiden, all garland-gowned.

Alas, ere long her petals all are shed,

her wedding garment gay all castéd down

‘round their feet, and soon Summer’s fruit is born,

Spring’s laureled head now regal, sun-adorned.

 

V. Ecce Gratum

Behold, the welcome and desirable Spring brings back joys. The brightly coloured meadow is in flower. The sun brightens everything. Now let sorrows depart! Summer returns, now the rage of Winter retires.

Now hail, snow and the rest turn to water and flow away. Winter flees and already Spring sucks at the breasts of Summer. He bears an unhappy heart who neither lives nor plays under Summer’s right hand.

They who strive to enjoy the reward of Cupid rejoice and take pleasure in honey sweetness. Let us be at the command of the Cyprian (Venus), glorying and rejoicing to be the equals of Paris.

“Summertime”

1. “Summertime” (Ecce gratum)

Daisy-dappled fields of green

the verdant vesture of ripened Spring,

hay-haired, hot and happy sheen

‘pon heath and meadow glistening.

 

Winter bleeds dead at but her hush,

the tree once bare abloom, a rising crest

of flowery-foam, perfumed and lush,

all life full-suckled at her breast.

 

‘neath the rustling tambourines

of leaves aloft in hands of trees

Cupid hunts a heart, arrow keen,

the aim of which man never flees.

 

VII. Chramer, Gip Die Varwe Mir

Merchant, give me the colour to redden my cheeks so that I may make young men love me whether they wish it or not. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

Give your love, virtuous men, to lovely women! Love gives you high spirits and lets you shine in high honour. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

O World, I wish you well as you are so rich in pleasures. I will surely always be your servant on account of your bounty. Look at me young men! Let me please you!

“Rosie the Riveting”

Red was the shade of her dress,

gold was her promise and tress,

green was the price

of this gray vice

and black, oh God, was the mess.

 

IX. Were Diu Werlt Alle Min

If the world were all mine from the sea up to the Rhine, this I would willingly forego to have the queen of England lie in my arms.

“Her Majesty”

An Irish sonnet for Her Majesty?

It seems to me a travesty

for though she a goodly lady be

it’s a bit ironic historically.

However I digress

so despite my distress

I’ll write the damnable limerick

and hope she gets a royal kick.

 

Ahem.

 

Were I of the world its king

England’s Queen’d wear my ring.

But I will wait

for lovely Kate

before go I a-marrying!

 

XI. Olim Lacus Colueram

Once I had dwelt on lakes, once I had been beautiful, when I was a swan. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

The cook turns me back and forth; I am roasted to a turn on my pyre; now the waiter serves me. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

Now I lie on the dish, and I cannot fly; I see the gnashing teeth. Poor wretch! Now black and well roasted!

“The Other Other White Meat”

Ah! How beautiful I looked,

graceful, slender neck all crooked!

Forgot did I

from man to fly

now, alas! My goose is cooked!

 

XIII. In Taberna Quando Sumus

Uhh…this one is super long so you can go here to read the translation.

“The Board of the Drinks” (bonus points to my fellow nerds who know what I’m lampooning!)

Three drinks for the living, doomed to die,

seven for the scoundrel-thieves on the lam,

nine for the preacher and his fiery cries,

one for the prisoner in the slam;

for all we raise our tankards high.

Which of us will owe the bar, which of us will buy them?

Who picks up the tab for this, for our duty solemn

tonight as we raise our tankards high?

 

XIV. Amor Volat Undique

Love flies everywhere, and is seized with passion. Young men and women come together, as is right. If a girl has no boyfriend, she is quite without joy; she harbours the depths of night shut up in her inmost heart. It is pure bitterness.

“The Birds and the Bees”

Storks and cabbage, birds and bees,

surely babes aren’t made of these

though girls, perhaps,

since we poor chaps

suffer their honey and stings!

 

XVII. Circa Mea Pectora

In my heart there are many sighs for your beauty which torture me miserably.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

Your eyes shine like the rays of the sun, like a flash of lightning which gives light to darkness.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

May God grant, may the gods grant, what I have set myself to do, and that is, to unlock the bonds of her virginity.

Send a message, send a message, my beloved does not come.

 

“No One Writes a Poem Anymore”

Do you love me? Circle yes

or no, then that works, too.

Then to my friend this note pass,

through him, to me, from you.

 

No more the love-leaf white, blue-ruled;

Cupid has lost his pluck.

Technology and romance dueled;

romance lost; wtf?

 

XVIII. Si Puer Cum Puella

If a boy lingers with a little girl in a cellar, their meeting is fortunate. As Love increases and for both (pariter) boredom is dispatched far from their midst, an indescribable game occurs with limbs, shoulders, lips.

“I Love You From the Bottom of My House”

Look, my dear, our secret bower

out of sight and parent’s power!

Now for romance

once we’ve a chance

to move the washer and dryer…

 

XIX. Veni, Veni, Venias

Come, come, please come, don’t make me die, hyrca, hyrce, nazara, trilirivos.

Beautiful is your face, the glance of your eyes, the tresses of your hair; oh how beautiful is your appearance!

You are redder than the rose, brighter than the lily, more beautiful than all; you are my constant pride!

“You Make Me Make Up Words”

Have I told you, lately, that you I hinc?

That you’re my trilirivos true?

That I hyrca, hyrce all the while

when you that wafna do?

 

For you I’d slay a heffalump

and pluck a phoenix plume,

a unicorn I’d ride to your door,

milk the cow gone o’er the moon.

 

Though all this Harry Potter sounds

I’m as sober as can be,

so I ask you, dear, simply plain:

my love…would you na-za-za me?

 

XX. In Trutina (I almost hate to make fun of this one; the song is SO beautiful…)

In my mind’s wavering balance wanton love and chastity sway in opposite scales. But I choose what I see, I offer my neck to the yoke; to a yoke so sweet I cross.

“The Trutina Inn”

Welcome to Trutina, dear

the population: two.

There’s me standing over here

and over there is you.

There is but a single cot

and the hour’s getting late.

I’m sure an answer will be got

if we consolidate…

 

There you go! Some of the behind-the-scenes fun I’ve had this semester!

Yes, it is completely OK for you to chuckle, chortle or otherwise guffaw at some of these, even if you are at work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

First of all, thank you so much for all your kind support! And now I’d like to share with you the fruits that all your kindness and prayers won for me; never, ever underestimate what even a drop of your love, even if you consider yours to come from the most unloving heart, can do in this world. It totally moved my whole reality this past weekend!

As you all know, I fell ill last Tuesday and on Thursday I made the call that I would not be able to perform “Carmina Burana” with the symphony over the weekend. I was so disappointed because not only had I been looking forward to it all semester, but my friends and my parents were coming to see me on stage! So once it looked as though I would not be on that stage I bought a couple of tickets so I could attend with my parents and offered the whole thing to God. I was too exhausted to worry about something I could not change.

Now on that Tuesday I made a doctor’s appointment; I very rarely get sick and when I do I usually just drink a lot of water, rest and tough it out. But I WANTED to get better as soon as possible, so I went to the doctor and told them to give me whatever magic pill would make me well the quickest! So they did and I noticed a marked improvement the next day but it was not good enough, and so the same on that Thursday when I threw in the towel.

That Thursday night, when I should have been getting ready to perform, my father arrived way earlier than expected. As has been mentioned in a previous post, I’ve been experiencing a lot of pain and trouble in my heart regarding my father and so I was a little anxious about his visit. Yet since I was not performing that night we were able to walk down to a local barbecue place and have a nice dinner and a terrific visit. It was truly a blessed time and were I performing that night it would never have taken place.

Friday we attended the ordination of five men to the diaconate at the Cathedral Basilica and then went to Cahokia Mounds since he is such a huge Native American archaeology buff and it was on his “bucket list,” and we enjoyed an afternoon of perfect weather. At this point I again was not planning on performing that night so I was completely free to be “present” to and with my dad instead of having the performance on my mind. I was feeling great and could even hum along with my parts through most of my range.

When we got back in the afternoon I received an email from my manager: apparently several other members of the chorus had taken ill (not my fault! I stayed well away from everyone!) and could not perform. She asked me how I was feeling and that if I was up to performing Saturday and Sunday they would love to have me back.

?!

I told her that I would continue resting my voice and give it a whirl Saturday afternoon; if I could sing through my parts adequately I would let her know. So that night I sat with my dad and watched the symphony and chorus bring the house down with “Carmina Burana,” which my dad said was the best thing he’d ever heard. He was bummed that I still wasn’t on stage but he was proud to see what I’ve been a part of for the past few months. We came back and enjoyed a glass of his homemade wine and chatted some more before we said goodbye and goodnight, since he was going to leave early in the morning.

Saturday my voice tested out and I let the manager know that I would be there at call time, all tuxed-up and ready to sing! I also called my mother who was en route from Iowa to let her know that she would be seeing me on stage that night! I was so happy for this, being that it was Mother’s Day weekend and all.

While I was still extremely glad to have my somewhat rough voice blending into a much larger choir, I made it all the way through and, let me tell you something, when a whole crowd of a few thousand leaps to their feet right when the last note of “Carmina Burana” stops and go absolutely nuts…yeah, it’s a pretty amazing experience! We had four “curtain calls” (thought there technically wasn’t a curtain) and each time the conductor motioned for the chorus to stand, the whole crowd went even more crazy! And of course my mom was just bawling and bawling the whole time.

After the concert my mother, her friend and I went to Bailey’s Chocolate Bar in Lafayette Square and pigged out a little bit and chatted about all sorts of things until midnight or so. It sure was hard to get to sleep after such an intense experience! Just singing “Carmina Burana” is intense enough but the reaction we got out of the crowd was phenomenal.

Sunday morning the three of us plus a dear friend of mine attended Mass at the Cathedral Basilica and then came back for a simple lunch of leftover fettuccine alfredo before they left for Iowa. That afternoon I performed for the last time as a member of the symphony chorus, turned in my score, said my goodbyes, and came home to have dinner with my brothers.

As you can see, I did not get the weekend I had originally planned or hoped for. Yet, by the grace of God working through my sickness and all your kind thoughts and prayers (plus the prayers of many others who are not on Xanga!), I got not only the weekend I needed and, really, the weekend that I truly in the heart of my heart desired.

 

God bless all of you!

Hey everyone!

This Saturday, May 7th at 8pm CENTRAL tune in here http://www.stlpublicradio.org/listen.php to listen to the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra and Chorus perform Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana!” I’ll be singing in it if this cold that assailed me yesterday is better in time (pray for me)!

 

EDIT: Thank you all for your kindness and prayers! Unfortunately my voice has not recovered to the degree necessary to allow performing this weekend…shucks! But do turn in anyways to hear what “I’ve been up to” this semester!

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.