The Paschal Light

The Paschal Light

     “In the beginning, when God created the heavens and the
          earth—
     and the earth was without form or shape, with darkness
     over the abyss and a mighty wind sweeping over the waters—
     Then God said: Let there be light, and there was light.
     God saw that the light was good.” (Genesis 1:1–4a)

     Thus begins all of Scripture. Is it not fitting that the first element God would create would be a reflection of the divine Self? Why did God give us light? The reasons, if they can be discerned, would be endless. God wanted us to experience the gift of creation in a way that would delight us and open to us the possibilities of putting his gifts to great benefit for all. God also wanted us to experience a foreshadow of the beatific vision of God, that of light, of warmth, of peace.
     Light has, of course, become a great symbol and constitutive part of our Catholic celebrations. As with other symbols, the Church took the pagan use of fire and gave it a Christian meaning, thus in every liturgy we experience the use of flame as a reflection of the light of Christ in our lives. That presence of Christ is made real for us once again each Easter Vigil with the blessing of the new fire and the lighting of the new candle with the light of Christ present. How fitting it is that, out of the darkness of the tomb on Holy Saturday we are led by the light of Christ himself.
     To me, one of the most beautiful symbols we experience all year is that of the flame from the Paschal candle lighting up the entire church as that flame is passed from one person’s candle to the other. How beautiful it is that a light, when shared, does not diminish but grows. It is thus with love, which is God’s very essence. As love—as God—is shared, love grows, unlike earthly possessions. And the beauty of that action is even lauded in the Exsultet, the Easter Proclamation of the Vigil:

          “But now we know the praises of this pillar,
          which glowing fire ignites for God’s honor,
          a fire into many flames divided,
          yet never dimmed by sharing of its light . . . ”

     Okay, time for a few anecdotes. These are a few horror stories for those of us in liturgy, but I really experienced each of these situations. The first was a parish whose pastor did not like wax dripping on the carpet of the church. The liturgy committee agreed with him that it was no longer a good idea to give candles to the congregation because of the dripping wax and because of the fear that some child might set someone’s hair on fire. (I’ve never actually heard of that happening, have you?) One committee member said that she felt the sight of that one flame in the midst of the darkened church would be just beautiful. Argh! Despite my protestations it went forward that way. How difficult it was, when proclaiming the Exsultet, not to sing (in the former translation): “Accept this Easter candle, a flame that should have been divided and yet undimmed . . . ”.
     The second horror story was at a parish where the temporary administrator (who later became pastor) decided that we had enough of a candle that we need not buy a new one that year! How I came close to singing: “Once again, accept this same Easter candle, a flame again divided but as yet undimmed . . . ”.
     Finally, a parish who, like many others, had a plastic Easter candle (I can’t really even call it that) that only needed to replace the oil lamp in it as needed. Thankfully, the next pastor had the good sense to replace it with a beautiful candle stand and real candle each year. Unfortunately, the founding pastor had an electric sanctuary lamp installed, and that awaits replacement. Yes, you heard me right! Which leads to my final point for today . . .
     I fear I will never see this in my lifetime, but there is something woefully undignified and pointless about the way we light and use candles in our liturgies. Now before you start throwing things at me, hear me out. Go back to the Easter Vigil. Once that light of Christ, that sacramental presence is made real, all the candles in the sanctuary are lit during the Gloria from that Paschal candle. Thus, all candles, all natural light in the sanctuary is the presence of Christ, and especially the sanctuary lamp, which stands guard of the tabernacle. The presence of Christ in the tabernacle is announced with the light of Christ, not some flick of a Bic. Now, here is what is supposed to happen: From then on, for the entire year, all candles, all lights, are to be taken from the sanctuary lamp. The sanctuary lamp, for its part, is never to go out, but its light is to be taken from its dying candle to a new one each week or so. (Remember, the sanctuary lamp, like the lamp of the Ark in the synagogue, is never to be extinguished.) Every time a liturgy is celebrated, the light of the sanctuary lamp is to be used for the candles. Thus, the light that is used for the entire year is taken from that one Paschal flame first lit at the Easter Vigil. Why does this never seem to happen? Well, it takes an incredible amount of vigilance and work. Would it be worth it? I believe so, but there are those who feel it is a minor thing and thus not worth the effort, for who would even notice.
     What do you think?

Emmaus and the Eucharist

The Road to Emmaus

    Today we heard the beloved story of Emmaus in Luke’s gospel. This is one of the most famous and loved stories in all the gospel, and it gives us an account of the first Eucharist celebrated after the Resurrection. But didn’t the first Eucharist take place at the Last Supper? Well, yes and no. Christ instituted the Eucharist, as well as the priesthood at that Last Supper, thus tying together the sacramental presence of Christ with the service of others. Remember, the Last Supper was the seder meal of Passover, not something new unto itself. What was new was Jesus’s offering of the bread and the cup as his Body and Blood, and his command to remember him whenever the meal is celebrated.
     Emmaus, however, was different. In the three synoptic gospels (Mt. 26:26–29; Mk. 14:22–25; Lk. 22:14–20) there are accounts of the institution of the Eucharist. John gives us the institution of the priesthood (Jn. 13:3–20). St. Paul also gives us an account of the eucharistic institution in 1 Corinthians 11:23–26. Yet, it is at Emmaus that Jesus again engages in those same four actions of the Last Supper, those actions that we imitate at each liturgy: Jesus 1) took the bread, 2) blessed it, 3) broke it and 4) shared it. It is in these four actions that he was recognized by his disciples.
     Our celebration of the Eucharist has within it several rites, some major and some minor:

               The Introductory Rites
               The Liturgy of the Word
              The Liturgy of the Eucharist
               The Communion Rite
               The Concluding Rites.

The Emmaus account gives us a simpler version of what has become our Eucharistic liturgy, so let’s take a look:
     In Luke 24:13–26 we see the dejected disciples walking the road to Emmaus, depressed, defeated. Jesus, incognito to them, joins up with them. Jesus toys with them, in a sense, by pretending not to know the goings-on of the previous three days, and Cleopas ridicules him for being so out of touch. Thus, we have the first Gathering Rite (or Introductory Rites, if you will). Next, in verses 27 & 28 we have the first Liturgy of the Word, in which the glorified Christ explains and exegetes the prophetic writings that referred to him. In verse 29 we have a beautiful response to hearing the Word: “Stay with us.”. Thus, God, who comes to us in the Word then comes to us in the Eucharist: In verses 30–32 we have the Liturgy of the Eucharist (including the Communion Rite), in which Christ took the bread, blessed it, broke it and shared it with them, and they recognized him. His vanishing at this point may at first seem almost cruel, but had he stayed it would not have had the impact that it did, and they would not have had the burning in their hearts that they had, for they would simply have felt, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” (Mt. 17:4a; Mk. 9:5a; Lk 9:33a). Instead, they did the most important thing we are called to do in any celebration of the Eucharist: They went forth and proclaimed Christ crucified and risen (Lk 24:33–35). This is the dismissal rite (Concluding Rites), and is the very root of the word “Mass”: missio, a sending. We come to the Eucharist, to the Mass, to be sent forth, to bring Christ to the world throughout the week (more on that in a later post).
     Thus, the Emmaus story gives us the sense of awe, mystery and wonder that God gives us in every celebration of the Eucharist, if only our eyes are open to seeing it.

The Word

Proclaiming the Word

     As Catholics we sometimes take the Word of God for granted. I suppose that could be said of anyone, but most Protestant faiths place their greatest emphasis on the Word each Sunday, where we tend to place our greatest emphasis on the Eucharist. And our worship space arrangements tend to support my view, in that the table of the Word (the ambo) and the table of the Eucharist (the altar) are most often disproportionate to one another, in that the altar is almost always much larger (and centered) than the ambo (which is off to the side). Father Eugene Walsh, SS (1911–1989) once wrote that ambos and altars should be of similar size in the sanctuary.
     Jesus Christ is the center and summit of our liturgy as we worship the triune God. He is present in the priest (persona Christi), in each person present (see Matthew 18:20), in the Eucharist, and also in his word.

               “In the beginning was the Word,
               and the Word was with God,
               and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)

     If Christ is the Word, and therefore is God, then is not his presence in Word just as significant as his presence in Eucharist?

               “Indeed, the word of God is living and effective,
               sharper than any two-edged sword,
               penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow,
               and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart.” 
               (Hebrews 4:12)

     Does not the writer of the letter to the Hebrews give us deep insight into the essence of the risen and glorified Christ? Let us not forget, the temporal Christ, walking among us, was the Word before he offered to us (and for us) his Body and Blood. Jesus Christ as Word, eternally begotten of the Father, has transcended time, where Christ became Eucharist in time.
     The General Instruction on the Roman Missal (hereafter GIRM), Vatican II’s guide for the celebration of the liturgy, makes clear that “ . . . Christ himself is present in the midst of the faithful through his word.” (55.). In this statement the bishops are quoting the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium) of Vatican II: “[Christ] is present in His word, since it is He Himself who speaks when the holy scriptures are read in the Church.” (SC 7.).
     Whenever I instruct lectors I always emphasize this last point with them. If they truly understood it they would be shaken by the awesome responsibility that they have undertaken in bringing the Word to the gathered assembly. A composer colleague of mine also offered this sage advice, which he had gotten from an experienced lector: “Proclaim the scripture as if you are reading a love letter from God.” Could anything be more beautiful? What, in fact, is scripture, but just that: God writing how much he loves us? This is why the Israelites wept as the Word was proclaimed to them: “ . . . all the people were weeping as they heard the words of the law.” (Nehemiah 8:9).
     There are a number of parishes who engage in the practice of ringing sanctuary bells at each of the consecrations, to call attention to the presence of Christ on the altar. This is fine, but it is inconsistent. Should not bells be rung at the beginning of the Liturgy of the Word (if not at the beginning of each reading and the psalm) to likewise call attention to the presence of Christ in the Word?
     For you who are lectors, let me offer the following practical advice for your ministry of proclaiming the Word:

• Have a Catholic bible (New American Bible) handy at home.
• Make use of published resources for your ministry, such as pronunciation guides and Catholic scripture commentaries. Be sure to check with your priest to insure the resources are specifically designed for Catholic use.
• Read the reading at least one week in advance. Go to your bible and read the passages that precede and follow yours.
• Pray over your reading each time you practice it during the week. Read it at least once a day, even to the point of near memorization. Memorization is not the goal, but having an internal knowledge of the passages will allow for a more effective proclamation.
• For the liturgy, be dressed as someone who has the awesome task of being the mouthpiece for the living Christ, who proclaims the Word that he is through your ministry.
• Approach the ambo with grace and reverence.
• Look at the assembly and pause before you speak, being sure you have everyone’s attention.
• Don’t just read the scripture, proclaim it in a life-giving manner. Be slow, deliberate, clearly enunciating every word correctly, making eye contact with the assembly as much as possible. While this is not a performance, your responsibilities have aspects that are performative in nature.
• At the end of the reading, pause, letting your sound dissipate in the space, before proclaiming “The Word of the Lord.” in a likewise life-giving manner. This will elicit an enthusiastic response from the assembly.
• Leave the ambo in a likewise gracious and reverent manner, and return to your place to continue in full participation of the liturgy, joyously responding and singing, being a model of good liturgical behavior for the assembly. Remember, people will look to you for good modeling.
• Finally, never approach the ambo unless you are fully prepared. Lectors who read the Word unprepared do a grave disservice to the community and diminish the significance of the Word.

     May all who proclaim the Word of God be enlightened by the flame of the Holy Spirit in their hearts, that hearts of all the faithful may “burn with love as Christ speaks” to them (Luke 24:32).

Why, God?

Why, God?

     The husband of a friend of mine is dying of cancer. He received the news only five months ago, on his 56th birthday. Yesterday another friend of mine buried his 42-year-old daughter, another cancer victim. Last Friday I played the funeral of a 47-year-old man who died in his sleep, found by his mother, with whom he lived. In the meantime I read about three other friends who had relatives in their 40s and 50s who died of cancer.
     I know this seems like a macabre way to start a post, but this is part of reality. Yet why does God, so loving, so merciful, allow sickness to happen? I know that this is really the same question asked about evil, particularly when 9/11 and the Asian tsunami occurred. And, more importantly, why can’t we as human beings comprehend the “why”?

God Only Knows . . .

     “God only knows,
     God makes his plan,
     the information’s unavailable
     to the mortal man.”

     That’s a lyric that always made an impression on me, from Paul Simon’s Slip Slidin’ Away. Very poignant indeed, but it doesn’t tell the whole story (not that we can ever know the whole story this side of heaven). And as poignant as this lyric is, it does give the impression that God is somehow cold and insensitive, when nothing could be farther from the truth.
     I remember another case several years ago when a man in his 50s died of cancer, never knowing he was ill until it was too late. He asked his friend, a deacon, “Why me?”. His response: “I don’t know, it’s all part of God’s plan.” What??? Part of God’s plan??? If we know that God is a loving parent, and that his love is mirrored in many things, especially the love of a parent for their child, how is it even theologically conceivable that someone’s illness would be part of God’s plan?
     Let’s remember that this earth is not heaven, and creation is not yet finished. And as long as the kingdom of God has not yet been established on earth, imperfections are going to exist, and among them illness. Let’s not, however, assume that God inflicts illness on his children any more than God inflicts any other kind of malady on us so that he can swoop in and be the hero in the end. But didn’t God inflict punishments in scripture? Well, that may be true, but we do not know if these things are historical accuracies or theological witnesses. Remember, the purpose of scripture is salvation, not science.

Is God Even Listening?

     What about all those prayers that are never answered? Surely those parents who buried their children, as I described above, prayed and prayed that their children would not die, and yet their prayers went seemingly unanswered. Where was God? Is God deaf? Is the divine plan so etched in stone that God’s heart is impenetrable? Does God even care?
     It is human to ask these questions, even to shout them at God. But here’s a little-accepted fact: God hears and answers every prayer, just sometimes the answer is “no” or “not yet”. Does that mean God doesn’t care when a mother loses her child? On the contrary. Psalm 116 tells us that “Precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of his faithful one.”. Every time someone dies, the first heart to break is God’s. You who are parents, and who have more than one child: Aren’t you capable of laughing with one child and yet crying with another all at the same time? Our God can do that with every one of his children, for God can see every one of his created ones at once. I remember (then-Archbishop) Theodore McCarrick once preach in a homily, “God loves you so much, he can’t take his eyes off you.”. What beautiful words, and how beautifully it speaks of our importance in the heart of God.
     St. Peter tells us that, to God, one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years are as one day. God knows no human time, for to God all time is present, a mystery we cannot understand in this life. This truth may explain why we sometimes get a “no” to our prayers and petitions to God. We can see only our little slice of history and environment, while God sees it all. Every choice we make is like a pebble dropped in a pond, whose ripples go out in concentric circles. The nearer to the center, the more intense the ripple, and so forth. In other words, every choice we make affects and influences others in our life. Our choices may influence others to make certain other choices, and so on and so on. Who knows how far into history our own choices may influence people? Well, God knows.

The Hymnbook of Israel

     One of my favorite books of the bible is the book of Psalms. As a pastoral musician, the psalms are close to my heart, for they are part of every liturgy we celebrate. The psalms, it is said, are the hymnbook of Israel, but what makes them so dear to me is the fact that Jesus himself sang these hymns in his life as a faithful Jew. And within the span of these 150 psalms are found every human emotion, from joy to despair, and there are many examples wherein the psalmist blames God and even makes deals with God. In other words, the psalms are rich in addressing nearly every facet of human existence, and can offer support and clarity in every earthly situation.
     So when we find ourselves asking, “Why, God?”, just remember that Jesus himself asked that from the cross, as he quoted Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”.

Funerals

And Jesus Wept . . .

     On this Fifth Sunday of Lent, when we heard the beautiful Gospel story of the raising of Lazarus, it brought me to reflect on the changing mourning process in our Church. In my area of the country, the funeral process consisted of a wake (usually two days of viewings, both afternoon and evening), and the fullness of the mourning process was done within the three stationary liturgies as prescribed by the Church. Usually the mourning ritual occurred over the course of three days or so, from the time of death to interment.

     These days, I have found the process to be ever-changing, and it seems the Church is in need of addressing these changes with an eye toward making adaptations that acknowledge this new reality. I will expand this further as we go along.

     Back “in the day” (as my wife likes to say), families were mostly of one faith, in our case, Catholic. There may be a couple of family members from outside the faith—usually through marriage—but for the most part everyone was Catholic. In my ministry as Director of Liturgy and Music at a large parish set among a number of retirement communities, I serve anywhere from 110 to 120 funerals per year. When once families at Catholic funerals were mostly practicing Catholics, this is sadly no longer the case. I am finding that, for the most part, families at funerals are mostly unchurched, and it is now common for less than half of the family to even identify as Catholic. While I say this not to judge anyone, it does however make for liturgy that can be unpredictable and difficult to minister. I know that much of this can be said about weddings as well, but I will address that in a later post. It also appears that the increase in unchurched and mixed-faith families has contributed to some of these changing practices. Let’s look at some of these changes (These may or may not apply in your part of the country.). Here is the funeral process as it was from the time of Vatican II through perhaps 10 years ago. Let’s consider a person’s death to be Day 1:

     Day 3: Wake at the funeral home, afternoon and evening viewings to receive mourners

     Day 4: Same, including the wake service led by a parish minister (usually a priest or deacon) during one of the viewings

     Day 5: Funeral Eucharist at the parish church with burial (interment) at a cemetery.

     Nowadays, there are a number of variations on this theme. Let’s look at some of them. Variation 1:

     Day 3: Wake at the funeral home, one viewing of 3–4 hours

     Day 4: Funeral Eucharist with burial.

     Rather than writing out all the possible variations, let’s just say that it often happens that a family will request a simple service in the funeral home instead of a Eucharist at church. This often happens in the case of an unchurched family, and I have even seen this happen in the case of a very active person who dies and whose children are unchurched, which I find to be very sad. This is why I encourage seniors in particular to make sure they make their wish known to their children that they want a full Catholic funeral at their passing.

     It also happens very often now that families opt for cremation rather than traditional burial. In 1992 the Church approved the inclusion of cremains at Catholic funerals, provided cremation was not done for reasons of denying the Resurrection. This, however, has created some unique pastoral challenges. Sometimes the deceased is cremated before the funeral Mass, and sometimes afterward. When done before and therefore present at Mass, the rites should be adapted to address the presence of an urn rather than a casket. In my parish, we always have someone carry the urn in and out in procession, the same way a casket would be processed. This helps to keep the funeral liturgy consistent, and helps address other liturgical issues as well.

     Sometimes the cremation is done after the funeral Mass. When this is the case, the dismissal, “Let us take our brother/sister to his/her place of rest.” makes no sense, as the family are not going to an interment but are dispersing while the body is going to the crematory. This disrupts the funeral process as it currently exists, and the Church has need to adapt the ritual for the reality. I realize the reciprocal can be legitimately argued, but the Church does allow for cremation, and therefore the ritual needs to be adapted.

     It also happens that a funeral is now celebrated the day after a death, but does this really allow a family the necessary time to begin the mourning process?

     While there is indeed fine-tuning to be done in our funeral process, our Catholic mourning process, when done in its fullness, is one that is beautiful, providing the bereaved with comfort and consolation, as well as an opportunity to give their beloved back to God.

Liturgical Ministries—The Presider

The Presider

     Perhaps the most underestimated factor in assessing whether or not a liturgy is truly life-giving is the style and participation of the presider. The term “presider” may refer to any individual, clergy or not, who presides over a worship service. While these same principles apply to any person who presides, clergy or lay, the following will limit our discussion specifically to the role of the priest presider at Eucharist.
     Nothing sets the tone of a liturgy more than the attitude, style and participation of the presider. While all liturgical ministers are models of proper liturgical “behavior”, the presider is the primary model of such behavior. His style, even from his first words, will let the community know what kind of liturgy is being celebrated, i.e. whether or not it will be true life-giving worship of God.
     A good presider never stops learning, even many years after ordination.
     The liturgy, indeed the Eucharist, is infused with the spirit of Christ. Christ is to be found in the Word, in the Eucharist, in the assembly, and in the priest, who acts in persona Christi. As Christ taught his disciples, it is the mission of the priest to instruct the community. As Christ offered the one, perfect sacrifice to the Father, it is the role of the priest to offer again, in the name of the faithful, the one, perfect sacrifice of Christ’s Body and Blood made present on God’s altar.
     The presider must exude the warmth and love of Christ to the community, both in and outside of the sanctuary. He must do this in such as way as to point the way to Christ without drawing undue attention to himself. This is part of the challenge of Christian ministry for all of us. Referring back to the first paragraph, if the presider is warm, loving, a strong leader, a capable preacher and a knowledgeable celebrant, the celebration of the Eucharist will be one that is profound and life-giving. It is said that there cannot be fire in the pews if there’s ice in the pulpit. This is very true. Let us be fair to all the good priests who serve the Church in saying that the reciprocal is also true: There cannot be fire in the pulpit if there is ice in the pews. All the more reason that liturgy is truly “the work of the people”.

Life-Giving Liturgy

The Elements of Life-Giving Liturgy, cont.

     It is said that the most important words in the Eucharist are hic et nunc—“here and now”. Why would this be so? After all, do we not retell the institution of the Eucharist during each Mass? Do we not praise God for the death and resurrection of Christ? Are these not historical events that occurred 2,000 years ago?

     That is all true, yet what we celebrate in each Eucharist is not so much those God-given events that occurred in temporal history, but, more importantly, we celebrate the salvific action of God that is occurring at this very moment, and will occur until Christ returns in glory.

     God’s work of salvation began at Eden, and will continue until the last judgement, of which we hear in Matthew 25. It is God’s desire that every person attain salvation, for God loves the creatures he has made, and wants all people to live with him forever in his heavenly kingdom. The Eucharist is a means of attaining that salvation, as it plants the seeds of charity in our hearts and, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, kindles in us a desire to bring the saving work of God to a world in need, working for justice and peace. This is the Sunday-Monday connection.

     As we begin to examine the various elements of life-giving liturgy we meet elements both tangible and intangible. There are ministries and rituals, and there are people who fulfill those ministries and perform the rituals. Yet it must always be borne in mind that “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). One priest put it me this way: “People always come before the big red book.” Rubrics are good and necessary, but God made not rubrics but people, and people made rubrics. In any liturgical celebration, therefore, the pastoral care of the community is of primary importance, reverence and sacramental integrity being always understood.

     Here are liturgical ministries we will examine:

          The Priest Presider

          The Deacon

          Proclaimers of the Word (Lector)

          Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion

          Altar Servers

          Ministers of Hospitality

          Ministers of Music (including Cantor, Music Director and Choir)
          The Assembly.

     Once we have given an overview of these ministries we will begin to examine the temporal moments of the liturgy.