On Angel Monday

Yesterday afternoon, the Holy Father and the members of the Papal Household traveled to Castel Gandolfo, the pope's summer residence, where they will stay for the next week or so, resting before the Beatification ceremony planned for the Servant of God, John Paul II this coming Sunday.

On the day following Easter Sunday, Italians observe Lunedi del Angelo (literally Angel Monday), so today at noon local time, the Holy Father led the recitation of the Regina Coeli, the marian hymn proper for the Easter Season, after which he spoke to the faithful and to pilgrims gathered in the courtyard of the apostolic palace.  Here is a translation of part of his greeting.  May it help us to reflect on the miracle of the resurrection which we celebrate throughout the Easter season:

The Lord is Risen indeed!  Alleluia!  The Resurrection of the Lord signals the renewal of our human condition.  Christ has overcome death, (a condition) imposed by our sin, and has been restored to immortal life.  From this miracle the interior life of the Church and of all Christian existence proceeds.  We read today in the first missionary discourse of the newborn Church: God raised this Jesus, proclaimed the apostle Peter, of this we are witnesses.  Exalted at the right hand of God he poured forth the promise of the Holy Spirit that he received that he received from the Father, as you both see and hear (Acts 2:32-33).  

One of the characteristic signs of faith in the Resurrection is the ancient greeting exchanged between Christians during the season of Easter, inspired by the ancient liturgical hymn: Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed.  This is a profession of faith and a lifelong commitment, as can be seen in the life of the woman spoken of in Matthew’s gospel: And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them.  They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”  (28, 9-10).  The entire Church, writes the Servant of God Paul VI, received the mission of evangelization, and the work of each individual member is important for the whole.  It remains as an opaque and luminous sign of a new presence of Jesus, of his departure and his permanence.

How can we meet the Lord and become ever more his authentic witnesses?  Saint Maximilian of Turin explains: Whoever wishes to reach the Savior must first place his faith at the right hand of God, and be wholeheartedly convinced of heaven, therefore, we must learn to constantly fix our minds and hearts on heaven, where Christ is risen. In prayer and worship, God meets man. The theologian Romano Guardini observes that "worship is not an incidental accessory ... it is of primary importance to the senses and to our being. Adoration permits man to recognize that which is in effect pure and simple and holy" (The Passover Meditations, Brescia 1995, 62). Only by turning to God in prayer can we discover the deepest meaning of our lives.  Our daily journey is thus illuminated by the light of the Risen One.

Fire, water and oil

In the dwindling light of Saturday evening, the community gathered on the steps of the church for the beginning movements of the Paschal Vigil.  This is not a new happening for this parish, but it is among the most striking of images, and the beginning of one of the most beautiful liturgies that the Church has to offer.

The newly-lit fire is blessed (the only time in the year when we bless a fire as part of the liturgy of the Church) and then its flames are used to light charcoal, and to light the new Easter candle.  The candle is then processed into the church while on three separate occasions the cantor or another suitable minister anounces in song Christ our Light, as though calling out to the community, 'Behold'.  With one voice, they respond, Thanks be to God as they express their joy and relief that the promise of the Resurrection is indeed to be celebrated, even as we mark the time of waiting for the new dawn of the Easter day.

Once the lit candle has been placed in the church, the ancient hymn (the Exultet) is chanted as a hymn of rejoicing and thanksgiving for the triumph of Jesus over the imprisonment of death.  The waiting faithful greet this hymn as they hold their own candles, set ablaze with the light from the Paschal candle, a reminder of the candle presented to them on the day of their respective baptism, and a reminder of Christ, the light of the world, present with his pilgrim people on the road through life.

The liturgy continues with the proclamation of various extracts from the Old Testament which recount the marvelous deeds of providence throughout the history of the Israelite people, and culminates with the assurance of Paul's letter to the Church at Rome, reminding them that the death of baptism is also a call to new life, the life that we celebrate in the Paschal mystery.  The story of the women at the empty tomb in the first light of Easter morning brings the story of faith to completion.

Because of the rich symbolism of this liturgy, which includes also the blessing of water to be used for the Sacrament of Baptism, it is also the night when adults who have completed the Rites of Christian Initiation are welcomed into the Church. 

This is the night when catechumens are baptised, and confirmed, using the Oil of Chrism that has previously been prepared and blessed by the Bishop for use in the churches of the diocese.

The elements of water and oil are also used on Easter day for the baptism of infants who are brought to the Church by their parents.  This year, there were three youngsters presented, welcomed and baptised.  With such joy and celebration, it is easy to see that this is the day the Lord has made ... we are glad and rejoice in it.

Light in the darkness

The joy of Easter comes to light this night, out of the darkness of the waiting world, and as sentinels of the morning, we watch and wait even as we pray in candlelight during the Vigil that begins at sunset.  Great things are commemorated on this night: we retell the story of our salvation, we bless water which will be used for baptism, and which reminds us all of our own baptismal invitation and commitment to live as disciples of Jesus, we welcome new members into our Church through the celebration of Baptism and Confirmation, and we share the most precious gift, the Eucharist, with these newly-initiated companions.


This indeed is a holy night, which bears the promise of Easter joy to be celebrated for the next fifty days.  As the Paschal Triduum comes to a close, our service must be modeled on the humble gestures of the Upper Room, our sorrow and fear in light of the crucifixion are now transformed into exaltation, and we sing together the Easter greeting: Alleluia, He is risen!

Here then is part three of the reflections for the Triduum, and a greeting for the Easter season:

The triumph of tender love
There are five individuals present with us here tonight.  For a number of years now, Jesus has been calling to them, and for at least the last number of months, each of them has been responding to his call, preparing for this night by learning more and more about the Catholic Church, our traditions, our beliefs.  They have been present at each of the particular moments of this Easter Triduum, actively participating in the foot washing of Holy Thursday, listening to the story of Jesus passion and death on Good Friday, and tonight listening to the account of our salvation from the time of Adam and Eve until the triumph of Jesus on that first Easter day.

Tonight, two of these five individuals will be baptised with the water that we will bless, and three others will join them to profess the faith that we all profess before the Oil of Chrism, consecrated last week by Bishop Plouffe is used to sacramentally seal the covenant of faith that is entered into tonight.  Thank you in advance to all five of you for the witness of faith that you provide for us, your fellow pilgrims, and the sign of hope that you will continue to be for all those who will look to you in the future for guidance.

The liturgies of Holy Thursday and Good Friday have not only told the story of Jesus’ love for his disciples, a love that he demonstrated for all of us by dying on a cross.  Liturgy is more powerful than simple story telling.  It allows us to enter into the mystery of the moment.  On Holy Thursday, we repeated the action of washing feet, just as Jesus did.  On Good Friday, we venerated the cross, just as Jesus mother and disciples did, and after having waited with them in hope, we now stand with Mary Magdelene outside the tomb.

If we were listening very carefully, perhaps we heard a particular little detail recounted in Matthew’s gospel tonight (this morning).  The resurrection is announced using the imagery of a severe earthquake.  We have heard this detail once before. On Good Friday when Jesus gave up his spirit, there was an earthquake that caused the curtain in the temple to be torn in two, and the tombs of the dead to be opened.  Can you imagine for a moment the violence of such an earthquake, with power to open the tombs of the dead?
It seems to me that earlier this year, when the people of Northern Japan were surprised by the devastating effect of an undersea earthquake, the last thing that might have been on their minds was some kind of good news.  Despite the calm and serenity that was portrayed at least in the first weeks following that occurrence, I’m sure that the tremors beneath their feet evoked fear and panic.  When the ground rumbles beneath our feet, both literally and metaphorically, we too are shaken, but the gospel presents a different understanding of the power of earthquakes.

In Matthew’s account, tremors in the earth are a sign that promises are being fulfilled, that good news is being announced, that the dead who have awaited the coming of Christ are finally raised to the fullness of life, and that Jesus himself leads the way as he rises from his own tomb.  This is the triumph that we celebrate tonight (today).  This is the reason why we gather each week, to renew our commitment in faith, to strengthen our own resolve to live our lives with gospel joy.

When we baptise tonight (today), I doubt very much that the ground will shake beneath us, but the truth of the matter is that the Easter celebration reminds us all that even at times when the world around us might appear to be dying or ending, Jesus is present, bringing us back to life, reminding us that despair and destruction do not have the final word.  Sinfulness, darkness and death are overcome by the living and present Jesus whose words startle, console and renew us: Do not be afraid.

In this marvellous, earth shattering moment, let us listen once again for these consoling words.  Having encountered the Risen Christ, having listened to his Word and having received his body and blood, special food for our journey, we give thanks and we bow down in worship.  May we always look to him for guidance. May we always rely on him for consolation, and having experienced the power of his love, may we always be ready to proclaim the good news of his Resurrection.

Happy Easter.

The passion told

Months of planning, and a fair bit of inviting combined to produce one of the most remarkable experiences of the Good Friday Passion of Our Lord.  High School students and children from the parish don't often get an opportunity to get involved, but in this case, we welcomed the chance to let them show off their talents.  All of these children have been involved with this parish for years, and finally they got their moment to return a gesture of service to the parish in return for all the years of dedication and learning they have been given.

What a wonderful opportunity for some teamwork!  The procession made its way to the front of the church in silence, and all the people knelt in prayer, as is the custom on this day.  Then we began with some very simple explanations and a short prayer.  From there, the waiting teenagers took over, proclaiming the passion, providing reflections as if from the characters who were involved in the drama, and drawing listeners deeper and deeper into the story as it unfolded.

Each Sunday, when children in this parish take part in the special Liturgy of the Word that is theirs, they listen to the scriptures and then are invited to take part in a dialogue homily with the catechists.  On rare occasions, the children come up to the church and we conduct the dialogue homily in front of the gathered congregation.  Such was the case on this Good Friday.  The catechist (in this case the priest) has to be careful how the questions are asked.  When questioned about the significance of this day, one of our little friends wondered whether it was Earth Day.  We responded in the affirmative, explaining that this was the reason for the dimmed lights.

The next part of the liturgy is the Veneration of the Cross.  In this case, some of the teenagers who were present gladly came forward to assist.  Holding the cross high, they presented the instrument of ancient torture which has been transformed into the symbol of triumph, and then proceeded to present it over the heads of the people gathered in the congregation.  As it moved slowly above them, individuals reached out to touch it in silence, and to offer a silent prayer, even as the strains of the family choir filled the church with the music of Taizé.

Ah yes, the choir was a composite of various families from our parish, most of which have some children who fit into the category of teenager or younger.  In addition, we have been blessed for the past two years to have among us a group of Vietnamese individuals who have certainly made themselves at home and who have added their voices to to the family choir, for they too are part of the family of God.

Thanks to all those who shared their talents in so many ways, this year's observance of the Commemoration of the Passion spoke to many hearts.  Perhaps, just maybe, some of those who were here got a different perspective on the mystery we celebrate.

Combining efforts

Beginning January 1 of this year, there was a change decreed for the parish.  In fact, what happened was that the Bishop reunited two parishes which had at one time been united, but which had separated (and flourished for a while).  Unification is never an easy thing.  It takes intentionality and lots of cooperation.

As it happens, the liturgies of the Paschal Triduum lend themselves very well to putting some flesh on the process of reunification.  Since the Church does not permit any Mass to be celebrated on Holy Thursday, other than the Mass of Chrism and the Mass of the Lord's Supper, we thought that this would be a marvelous occasion to bring the forces together, and it was a resounding success.

Voices from various choirs combined to form a unified voice which led the musical facets of our worship last night, and even the mandatum was an occasion for people who are used to praying in separate physical locations to join forces, practicing what we preach: washing one another's feet.

This annual observance which is enacted within the heart of the liturgy is a concrete example of fulfilling the Lord's command to care for one another.  The act of washing another person's feet is humbling enough, but we are asked to go further: to allow others to wash our feet as well, and this is perhaps where we learn the most valuable lessons about loving and being loved, about caring for one another and about allowing ourselves to be cared for.

The best part is that this simple gesture helps us to learn that we're not that different, one from another.  In fact, we're all on the same road, all learning how to be grateful for the gifts we receive and to be generous in sharing the talents we possess with others.

More pictures from last night's mandatum will soon be posted on the parish website.

Part two

The intimacy of the Upper Room is one way to understand love.  The sacrifice of Good Friday is another.  The world we live in prefers to turn a blind eye to the presence of suffering in our world, instead of learning the valuable lesson it teaches.  Here then is part two of the reflections for the Triduum:

 Tender love enacted
Last night, as we began the celebration of the Easter Triduum, we reflected on the tender love expressed by Jesus for his disciples, gathered with him in the upper room.  The Eucharistic meal which he instituted on that first Holy Thursday, and which we perpetuate in his memory has been referred to as the un-bloodied sacrifice (Fulton Sheen), but in order to fully understand and appreciate Jesus’ actions in the Upper Room they must be seen in light of the sacrifice he endured for us on Good Friday, because his acceptance of the cross was motivated by love.

We have listened today to the story of this sacrifice, but even having heard the words proclaimed, perhaps we still are tempted to sanitize the suffering.  Crucifixion was messy business.  It was painful.  It was meant to be shameful.  It was the torturous death reserved for criminals.  We don’t often hear of crucifixions happening in our day, and yet sometimes I wonder whether they still go on right under our noses.

When Isaiah describes the suffering servant in today’s first reading, he speaks of one whose outward appearance is so marred as to be beyond human semblance.  It might be difficult for us to envisage any person being willing to undergo the torture of being whipped, bruised and broken, but such torture still exists today, often inflicted at the hands of those who have grown accustomed to visible and tangible trappings of power and prestige.

If the apostles were bewildered by Jesus’ actions and words in the Upper Room, they were more astonished to witness the unfolding of the torture and death that took place on Good Friday, and even more by the silence with which he willingly accepted such suffering. Yet because of his willingness to surrender to the will of the Father, Jesus understood that this torture, this suffering was the means by which he would win for us the grace of heaven.

We live in a privileged society.  With few exceptions, this part of the world is not usually prone to natural disasters.  We will probably never see a tsunami hit this city.  We will rarely experience tremors or earthquakes, so the suffering of the people of Japan is in some ways a world away and we can afford to ignore their plight if we choose, but we cannot ignore the challenges that fall right in our laps.  How many of us, of our family members, of our close friends have been affected by serious diseases or medical conditions?  How many of us, or our acquaintances have ever fallen victim to injustices?  How many in this city suffer?  At times there are no visible signs of the torture, but the suffering continues.  How many of these accept their suffering and bear it silently, out of love for another?

Canada is in the midst of a federal election campaign.  As we have seen the images of the party leaders flashed across television screens in these past weeks, I wonder how often we have even tried to see the face of Jesus in the faces of the candidates.  Have we recognized him in the faces of the leaders and negotiators in foreign lands who are trying to bring about peace in places such as Egypt, Lybia and elsewhere?  What of the countless aid workers present in Haiti, in Japan, in other torn and suffering parts of our world?  Sometimes it’s easy to see Christ, and at other times it’s more challenging, as in the cases of those unjustly accused of wrongdoing?  The suffering Jesus is all around us.  His face is right before us if we have the eyes to see it.

Out of great love, he entrusted to us the gifts of his body and blood which we share in the Eucharistic banquet.  Each time we do, we are reminded that the suffering of Good Friday was also undertaken out of great love so that we might come to believe that places of prestige in the Father’s kingdom are earned through compassion for others, through service to our neighbour and through constantly being on the lookout for the face of Christ who loved us to the end.

The triduum begins

In the twilight hours of Holy Thursday, the Church gathers to begin the liturgical observance of the Easter Triduum.  The first part of this three-part liturgy finds the Lord's faithful gathered in prayer, remembering his final night on earth.  Even though he knew that his time was near, Jesus continued his work, his preaching, his living, even to the end.  The liturgy of the Triduum is filled with symbols and actions that evoke a deep abiding call to love.  Here then is the homily for the Mass of the Lord's Supper, part one of the three part meditation on the significance of these days:

Of tender love
Dear friends, tonight is indeed a blessed night.  After having spent the last six weeks or so preparing for the festival of Easter, here we are at the beginning of the Paschal Triduum.  The practice of observing triduua is anciently known in the Church, but none is more ancient than the one that we embark on tonight.  This liturgy is full of signs and symbols, each of which speaks volumes about the love of our God, about His wish to be always close to His people, and about the place of great privilege he affords to all of us who are his disciples.

Here in our midst tonight, is a supply of the three holy oils which were blessed last Thursday during the Mass of Chrism.  The Oil of Catechumens, used during the celebration of the Sacrament of Baptism indicates a first way of being touched by Christ, and by his Holy Spirit: an inner touch by which the Lord draws us close to himself.  This oil will be used on Saturday evening as we baptise two adults who will be baptised, and again on Easter morning when we will baptise three young children.  The Sacred Chrism too will be used this weekend to seal the promise of our Saviour.  Chrism is a mixture of olive oil and perfumed balsam.  It is the oil used for anointing priests and bishops on the day of their ordination, and for sealing the gift of the Spirit at Confirmation.  The third container holds the Oil of the Infirmed which is used exclusively for the anointing of the sick.  Whether that sacrament takes place in a church such as this, or in a hospital room, it is yet another sign of God’s closeness and tender compassion for those who suffer in body, mind or spirit.

The liturgy we have embarked on tonight is yet another expression of God’s tender love for all of us, his beloved.  He provided for the bodily needs of the Israelite people before they set out on the journey, and even today, he continues to provide for our needs, nourishing us with his word and with special food to sustain us in the task of living out the mission of discipleship today.  The apostle Paul reminds us that on the night when he was betrayed, Jesus took bread, gave thanks and broke it.  He also took a cup and offered it.  Then he shared these gifts with his disciples, commanding them to do the same in remembrance of him.
Bread and wine are simple gifts.  They would have been present at almost every Jewish table.  Jesus takes the ordinary things in life and transforms them into the most precious of gifts.  He continues to do this even today, taking our humble gifts, our talents, our words, our gestures of hospitality, our attempts at reconciliation, and transforming them into extraordinary examples of love.  These are not done because of any heroic virtue of our own creation, but because of his generosity, his love, his concern for us.

As though the offering of his body and blood were not enough to cause the apostles to question Jesus’ actions that night, he went even further.  We too might be tempted to miss the deeper meaning of this sacred meal, except that Jesus himself enacted the most striking example of the night for us too.  The gospel passage tells us that he got up from the table and proceeded to wash the feet of his disciples.  This gesture of welcome usually reserved to a servant or to the youngest member of a household was known by the disciples, but was all the more shocking in this instance because it was definitely not the kind of gesture that would be extended by the head of a household, or in this case by a rabbi, a teacher. 

Here again, Jesus lessons go deeper than they first appear.  When Peter voiced his opposition to allowing Jesus to wash his feet, he was perhaps speaking for all the apostles who themselves would have wondered at this strange behaviour, but Jesus wanted then to show them that his message of love was sincere, that the kingdom of God was based on an attitude of service toward others, of forgiveness for wrongs that have been committed, of going the extra mile out of love.  Tonight, we too will re-enact this gesture of washing feet.  In today’s culture, this gesture is all the stranger because we would offer different gestures of hospitality to newly arrived friends or guests.  In fact bearing our feet and allowing someone else to wash them is foreign to our experience, yet there is a particular intimacy that is created by this simple gesture, and this is the intimacy that Jesus wanted to demonstrate for his disciples.  It’s the same level of intimacy that he commands us to cultivate for one another.

Unexpected events caused the disciples to wonder on that night in the Upper Room.  Unaccustomed actions may also cause us to wonder tonight, but that’s a good thing because if these gestures were familiar to us, we would probably not stop to question them, thus risking the very real possibility of missing the lesson that we need to learn.  The Easter Triduum has begun.  This liturgy of great love is now upon us.  As we watch, as we participate, let us not waste this opportunity to benefit from the great love that is offered.

Graces unseen

Even as a young child, I have always been told that God is present with us at all moments of the day.  At times, we are fortunate enough to have eyes to see the many ways He is close to us and guiding us, accompanying us and walking beside us, but unfortunately, many of us lose these 'eyes' due to the busy pace we adopt.  It all depends on our perspective, and where we put our priorities.  Regardless, it's good to know that once in a while, we are brought face to face with the truth that God is close, no matter whether we admit it or not.

This morning, I found myself surrounded by a small group of collegues who are fast becoming friends.  Although we only spent a very short period of time together, the cameraderie that was evident also belied the truth that all those gathered at that table are people devoted to the good of others.  Service of others, a welcoming spirit, a willingness to share the task and to lend a hand: as long as there is a mixture of dedicaton and sincere love, the work gets done even though it seems not to be arduous.  Instead it is a joy-filled moment of grace for those involved in guidance, as well as to all those who benefit from the decisions that must be made.

The day continued with another meeting, this time with parents of children who are being prepared for the Sacrament of Baptism.  It is customary that adults to be baptised are prepared for this moment of grace which is most often observed in the twilight hours of Holy Saturday, but children can also be baptised either at the Vigil or at one of the liturgies of Easter Sunday.  I suppose we will have an abundance of graces and welcomes being celebrated this weekend, and the anticipatory joy is evident on the faces of the parents who were here this morning.

Even more graces were also evident today.  This afternoon a husband and wife exchanged their promises of love before the Church.  Even though perhaps the human eyes were unable to comprehend the depth of joy and blessing being conveyed, this too was a moment of heart-felt celebration.  In Heaven as on earth, the angels sing.

One of the extraordinary privileges bestowed on priests is the grace to accompany the sinful world as it becomes ever more aware of the reconciliation that is offered, and desired by our loving God.  Moments of reconciliation are often opportunities for even the most skeptical to believe that there is something 'bigger' happening here.

Have you seen graces in motion today?

Can't judge a book

Be careful about jumping to conclusions.  Things aren't always what they appear to be:

On Palm and Passion Sundays

Following yesterday's post and the explanation of cloaks and palms in the first gospel account read last Sunday, someone asked about why we don't just stop at the account of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem and provide a reflection on that action to begin Holy Week.

Answer: it once was that way.  Apparently, prior to 1960, Passion Sunday was observed on the fifth Sunday of Lent (and I believe that statues in churches used to be veiled beginning on the fifth Sunday of Lent as well).  However, Pope John XXIII changed the rules in 1960 and since then, we celebrate Passion and Palm Sunday on the same date: the sixth Sunday of Lent.

Just remember that the Church is a living organism made up of people.  That means that the rules do change from time to time.

Longer hours

The online news people at ZENIT are reporting tonight that the Governatorato, the overseers of the Vatican City State have announced some ammendments to the hours of operation at the Vatican Museums during the week of Pope John Paul IIs beatification.

Beginning next Tuesday, April 26 and continuing until Monday, May 2, the Museums will be open at night as well as during the day in order to allow more visitors to see the treasures contained there.  In addition, the price of admission is being reduced, providing that pilgrims are able to provide a reference from their parish, diocese or religious congregation.

Why cloaks and palms?

The liturgy we celebrated yesterday started in a different fashion from the norm.  People who were expecting a voice to invite them to stand and start singing may have been surprised to hear something very different:

Dear friends in Christ,
for five weeks, we have been preparing by fasting and works of penance
for the celebration of Our Lord's passion ...

Then again, this week, people picked up their annual allotment of palms, the fronds that have adorned some of our homes (at least in sacred spaces) for as long as we remember.  Even as these introductory words were being uttered, there were some (and not all of them adults either) who were folding the palms into crosses, or braiding them.  It's good to see that faith traditions continue.


There is an extra scripture passage pronounced on Palm Sunday, and I think that merits at least a nod, since many of the symbolisms have been lost in modern culture.

Matthew explains that Jesus entered Jerusalem sitting on a donkey and a colt.  What we've forgotten about this custom is that it would have been the mode of the day for royalty to enter the Holy City (or to travel anywhere for that matter) aboard portable means of transportation.  Since there were no automobiles, this would have been a suitable alternative.  In addition, the apostles laid their cloaks on the backs of the beasts: yet another important gesture usually reserved for royalty (call it a gesture of respect for the nobility).

As the procession made its way into Jerusalem, others who were bystanders, and who understood the importance of this moment placed their own cloaks on the road in order to pave the way, and those who either didn't have cloaks or couldn't afford them took branches from the nearby trees to do the trick.

What a sight this must have been!  Room for people of all classes, and all abilities.  Room for all those with the eyes of faith to believe that this man Jesus was indeed a king, although not a king by any established measures of physical wealth or entitlement.  Indeed, this spoke of the conviction of those men and women who knew the Master, who heard his voice, who were responding to his call.

I wonder how we would react if we too had this depth of conviction?

Holy Week begins

Today, the Church celebrates Passion or Palm Sunday.  With the observance of the liturgies proper to this day, we enter into the final week of Lent, known as Holy Week.  These are the holiest of days for Christians; we recall the final days of Christ's life, the depth of his love for the disciples (and for all of us), his passion and death, and his Resurrection.

As we begin this week, Palm Sunday (which has been combined with Passion Sunday for the past forty years or so), recalls in very broad strokes, the drama that began when Jesus entered triumphantly into Jerusalem, and concluded with his passion and death on the cross.  There will be a few moments in this coming week to deepen this understanding.  For now, here are the headlines:

• Listen in

Looking ahead
One of the first things I ever remember about reading a newspaper is the headlines.  It seems that even as a teenager I would glance at the headlines on the front page, and then decide whether I needed to spend more time delving through the pages, depending on whether the headline in largest print, just below the titles, had caught my attention.  Ah, yes the pictures sometimes helped to attract my attention too.

This weekend’s liturgy is all about headlines, setting the stage for the news that will unfold in the coming days.  As the Lenten period draws to a close, the days immediately surrounding the Easter weekend are the holiest of days, and the liturgies that take place tell a story, not one of ancient times, but one for our times.

On Thursday evening, we will hear a story of great love.  Jesus shared his body and blood for the first time with his disciples on that first Holy Thursday, and we, his modern-day disciples still receive these gifts today.  The liturgy of the upper room was all about showing the disciples how to love, and lessons about love are never outdated.  This first part of the story will take place at 7:30pm on Thursday evening.

The story will continue on Friday.  We remember the suffering of Jesus as he was forced to walk the Via Dolorosa, the way of suffering on the way to his own death, and we ourselves are challenged to understand that this story too is unfolding even today, all around us.  This second part of the liturgy will take place here at our Beech Street site beginning at 11:00am and at our Burton Street site beginning at 3:00pm on Friday.

On the third day of the Easter Triduum, we will wait in faith like the disciples did until the daylight begins to fade, then we will gather to retell the story of our faith, to welcome adults who will join our faith, and to celebrate the Lord’s triumph over death.  The Easter Vigil will begin at 8:30pm with the blessing of the Easter fire out on the steps of the church.

The liturgies of the Easter Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday) are in fact one liturgy that takes place over three days.  Each part of the liturgy tells part of the story, and only when we are present for all three, do we fully understand the whole story.

Like the women who gathered at the tomb early on the first Easter morning, we too come to celebrate the great victory of our God over death on Easter Sunday.  There will be three Masses celebrated on Sunday morning, one at our Burton Street site at 9:30am and two at our Beech Street site, at 9:30am and 11:00am.

So there you have it, the headlines are promising.  The question is, will you and I actually unfold the newspaper?  Will we be here to listen to the story?  Will we take the time to see it in action before our eyes this week (and every day of our lives)?

Laughter by day

Everything must be balanced, so when there is the possibility of such sadness and emotion, what better way to equalize than to find some reason for laughter.  In this case, a simulcast live production of Rossini's Le Compte Ory.

For the very first time, this production has finally been presented at the Metropolitan Opera.



In this recording, Juan Diego Florés was only 25 years old (some twelve years ago), and already his voice was so well developed.  Yesterday`s performance from the Met was yet another opportunity to see him in concert alongside the dazzling mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato and the soprano Diana Damrau.  Here's just a snippet of one of the final and funniest scenes:



Who knew that opera could be such fun!

Night of tears

Western culture would have us believe that tears are a sign of weakness, and in a competitive environment, weakness must be hidden or denied.  Yet, last night, there were many tears, and none of them were signs of weakness.  Instead they were signs of healing.

There were tears around the bed as a beloved husband and father was surrounded by his family members in a moment of prayer, entrusting him to the loving embrace of God.  There were also tears tonight as one by one the students came to celebrate the sacrament of God's forgiveness, not always an easy thing for humans to admit (our own weakness), nor for us to realize (the infinite mercy of the One who loves without limits).  Oh, and there were yet more tears in store for the ones who watched helplessly as their 'healthy' sister lay lifeless before them.

Tears in so many different locations, on so many diverse occasions, all bringing their own levels of healing.  I wonder if anyone had eyes to see.

Second of April

This is the second homily I've written for April, but it's actually for the fifth Sunday of Lent.  Can you believe that in just two weeks it will be Easter already.  So much to do and so little time.  Here is the text and the podcast of this week's installment:

On the last things
I said a few weeks ago that the gospel passages we hear during this Lenten season are meant to help catechumens (adults in this community who are preparing for baptism and-or for other Sacraments of Initiation at Easter).  They are also meant to help all of us to deepen our understanding of our own faith, and perhaps to realize anew the precious gift that we have been given.  Over these past couple of weeks, the scriptures have introduced us to a blind man who was cured by Jesus, and we asked ourselves about our own blindness, or even our reluctance to appreciate all that our faith has to offer.  We also met a woman at a well, and perhaps we were challenged by that scene to believe that the life of a disciple has much to do with discovering the gentle but profound love that God has for all of us.  Today, the scriptures present us with a dead man, a man bound with pieces of cloth, and with his family who despite their grief also believe that Jesus can do something about the situation.

So what does this scene have to teach us about the life of a disciple, or about the Catholic understanding of death, the afterlife, heaven, the Resurrection?  There's a reason why this story is told particularly during the Lenten season.  It's also repeated during some of our funeral liturgies because it reminds us that in the Catholic understanding, physical death which spells the end of life here on earth is not the final word.  Sure, our society might like us to believe that we should fear death, that it's somehow and end in itself, but this is not the belief that the Church teaches.  Physical death is but a moment of transition.  In fact, the liturgy we celebrate teaches us that from the moment of our baptism, we begin the process of dying to self, and living for the other out of love.  If we truly understand what it means to die to self, and if we practice this discipline each day, then physical death is no longer seen as something to be feared because it is merely the moment for which we prepare as we live out our terrestrial lives.

The story of Lazarus is among the most well-known of the bible, yet few of us have ever taken the time to examine some of the other characters in the story.  Aside from the star of the show and Jesus himself, Martha and Mary, the sisters of Lazarus also are present, as are other friends and acquaintences of theirs who had come, presumably to console them in their grief.  The conversations that take place between Jesus and these characters all reveal differing levels of calls to discipleship, and differing levels of belief.  I wonder whether the fact that Lazarus' sisters sent word to Jesus about their brother's illness was something they did because they were good friends with Jesus and wanted him to know about their situation, like we might do with friends who are close enough to us to be concerned about the well-being of our family and friends.  Perhaps they had heard that Jesus was known to perform miracles, and hoped he could do the same for them, but Jesus didn't seem to answer their initial request.  I wonder whether they felt rejected or abandoned.  Do we sometimes feel that Jesus doesn't hear our prayer, leaving us instead in the midst of our suffering, or do we trust that perhaps there is a reason for his silence?

We celebrated two funerals this past week in the parish.  In both cases, friends of the families came from far and wide to express their condolences, and I'd like to think that in addition to those who were physically present, there are also many more people who could not be here, but who continue to support the grieving families with their prayers, their kind words and their faith.  I'm sure that Martha and Mary's friends also grieved Lazarus' death.  Perhaps like us, they too found it difficult to voice their condolences in words that make sense.  Sometimes the greatest gift we can give to someone who is grieving is simply to be present, even without words, to hold their hands and to help them through the painful moments of separation.

Like the story of the blind man, and the encounter with the woman at the well, the story of Lazarus is also about coming to believe.  Our faith teaches us that Jesus died and rose again to life.   It also teaches us that we who follow in his footsteps are destined for resurrection and the fullness of life in heaven.  From the day of our baptism, we spend the rest of our lives coming to believe in these truths, and unless we are given some extraordinary gift of knowledge, we are constantly coming to believe until the day we see God face to face.

The story of Lazarus is given to us in order that catechumens might learn, and that all of us might come to believe that Jesus is waiting for us, that he has a place prepared for us when this earthly life is complete, that we will not know the fullness of life, love, joy and peace until the day we see him in heaven, but until that day, we should all strive to live as people who believe that these truths are not figments of our imagination; they are part of the heritage Jesus entrusted us with, part of the inheritance that awaits us when we finally reach our intended destination, in the homeland of heaven.

From the other side of the glass

Last night, I got my intro to a very unique place.  The physical space measures less than a metre square and yet the influence that is contained therein is enormous.

The venue is a skating rink, and the occasion is a gathering known as Let's Skate!  This was not my first time inside the arena, but it was my first time on this side of the glass.  From inside the 'musician's' box, I had a relatively unobstructed view of the ice surface, but the purpose for my being there was not so much to watch the skaters in action (that was a bonus).

My instructions were simple: start the music when the skater is ready and don't make them wait.  To be fair, that's putting the wording simply.  In reality, keeping up with the parade of skaters is a finely honed dance which involves a list of skaters, in order of their appearance, one flight at a time; a box filled with two copies of each skater's music; a disc player; and a stopwatch.  Oh ... and an extra set of discs which stay in he booth, and which are used to provide background/motivational music for the warmup periods that preceed each flight of skaters.

The don't make them wait part isn't so crucial in the early part of the day, when the skaters are either younger in age or more inexperienced on the ice surface, but as the day progresses, and the technical aspects become more and more complicated, there's little if any room for error.  No pressure here.

Trying to find the reason

Sometimes it's hard to be thankful, especially for graces that seem to be so hidden that they're almost impossible to find.  In recent times, many of the Dioceses in the United States of America have had to face some very trying times, including a recently-found article concerning Father John Corapi, SOLT.

What makes these reports all the harder to accept is the fact that they relate to those who have (until now) been portrayed as heroes.  When a hero is questioned, tainted or shadowed, there is always incredulity.  Remember though that nothing yet has been proven, and until then, the rights of all concerned must be respected.

In case the article in question (first published in The Catholic Review Online, a publication of the Archdiocese of Baltimore) should at some time in the future become inaccessible, here it is in print:

Father Corapi, a popular priest, put on administrative leave
(Catholic News Service) 
CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas – Father John Corapi, a popular author and preacher who has had speaking engagements all over the world, has been placed on administrative leave from priestly ministry over an accusation of misconduct.

“We have received an allegation that Father Corapi has behaved in a manner unbecoming of a priest and are duty-bound to conduct an investigation into this accusation,” said Father Gerard Sheehan, a spokesman for Father Corapi’s community, the Texas-based Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity.

Father Sheehan, who has the title “regional priest servant,” issued the statement March 18 on behalf of the community.

“It is important to keep in mind that this action in no way implies Father Corapi is guilty of the allegation,” Father Sheehan said. “It is equally important to know that, based on the information we have received thus far, the claim of misconduct does not involve minors and does not arise to the level of criminal conduct.”

The matter will “be investigated internally,” he said. Father Sheehan did not reveal the exact nature of the allegation.

In a March 19 statement, Father Corapi said, “All of the allegations in the complaint are false, and I ask you to pray for all concerned.” His statement was posted on his website, www.fathercorapi.com.

He said he learned on Ash Wednesday, March 9, that a former employee “sent a three-page letter to several bishops accusing me of everything from drug addiction to multiple sexual exploits with her and several other adult women.”

Father Sheehan told Catholic News Service that Bishop William M. Mulvey of Corpus Christi has instructed the religious community to ask two priests who are not clergy of the diocese and who are not members of the Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity to investigate the allegation. The two priests have not yet been named.

In his statement, Father Sheehan added that “unless and until information suggests otherwise,” the allegation made against Father Corapi “will not be referred to civil authorities.”

If officials of the religious community learn that the accusation involves a violation of criminal civil law, he said they would refer the matter to civil authorities.

In his statement, Father Corapi complained that the bishops’ procedures to protect minors from sex abuse by church personnel are “being applied broadly to respond to all complaints,” whether the complaint is deemed “to be credible or not.”

“I’ll certainly cooperate with the process, but personally believe that it is seriously flawed, and is tantamount to treating the priest as guilty ‘just in case,’ then, through the process, determining if he is innocent,” Father Corapi said. “The resultant damage to the accused is immediate, irreparable and serious, especially for someone like myself, since I am so well known.

“I am not alone in this assessment, as multiple canon lawyers and civil and criminal attorneys have stated publicly that the procedure does grave damage to the accused from the outset, regardless of rhetoric denying this, and has little regard for any form of meaningful due process,” he added.

It was not the first time Father Corapi has criticized the zero-tolerance policy mandated by the U.S. bishops’ “Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People.”

In an address at the Call to Holiness conference in Michigan in 2002, Father Corapi called the policy “unjust.” He said there was no question the church needed to remove serial molesters or any priest who posed a threat. But he said there was “a radical difference” between a child-molester priest who “just wallows in it” and a priest removed because he was accused of one long-ago incident but who repented and went on to have 25-30 years of fruitful ministry.

According to his website, Father Corapi has traveled more than 2 million miles preaching the Gospel since his 1991 ordination by Pope John Paul II. He has preached in 49 of the 50 states, all of the Canadian provinces except Newfoundland, and several other foreign countries.

Father Corapi often tells audiences his story of his late vocation to the priesthood and his life before that, when he knew both success and failure, from gaining millions of dollars in real estate to being penniless, homeless and addicted to cocaine.

Besides television and radio, he also preaches about the Catholic faith using the Internet and various other multimedia formats. He is the author of several books and has produced a number of multimedia products.

A native of Hudson, N.Y., he makes his home in Kalispell, Mont.

Father Corapi, 63, is widely known from his appearances on the EWTN cable TV channel, as a guest homilist in churches, and his many speaking engagements.

Founded in 1958, the Society of Our Lady of the Most Holy Trinity is based in the Diocese of Corpus Christi. It is comprised of priests, brothers, deacons, sisters and laity.

Its website says the community’s “primary apostolate is to serve the areas of deepest apostolic need.”

Its members serve in missions around the world, working in parishes, and ministering to migrants, refugees, homeless people, among others. They also are involved in education, catechetics, evangelization, and marriage and family life. The community also has an outreach to prisoners and drug addicts.

This article was updated March 21, 2001, to remove incorrect information.

Funnies for Friday

Call it a case of mistaken identity if you wish, but it would appear that in some cases, even the best of intentions don't make any difference, and when things are going awry they just keep going.  At times, readers and even eye witnesses aren't sure whether the comedy has been scripted or not.

This article was printed online courtesy of The Huffington Post, but in the event that it should ever be removed, we're taking the liberty to print it below for your enjoyment.  Happy Friday!

Catholic Nun Forcibly Removed from Plane for Wearing 'Muslim Garb'
April 5, 2011 DAYTON, OH - Sister Cora-Ann, a Catholic nun from the Our Lady of Grace Monastery in Dayton, Ohio got the surprise of her life yesterday, when she was asked to leave the plane she had just boarded at the Omaha International Airport. "I had just sat down in my seat, and started to thank God for our blessings and recite a prayer in Latin", she recalled, when one of the passengers sitting next to me called the flight attendant. The passenger was Elizabeth Bennet, who later stated: "It is not that we were prejudiced, but she did seem very suspicious. She was dressed in Muslim garb and just before we were about to take off, she started mumbling something in an Arabian or Talibani-sounding language. What was I supposed to do?" Damien Thorn was a passenger seated in the adjacent row and said: "I knew there was something sinister about her, the moment she stepped into the plane. She was wearing those burqa clothes that you see the Iranian women wearing, and she only had a very small carry-on bag." The flight attendant responded to the call and asked Sister Cora-Ann for her name, boarding pass and a photo ID.

Blanche Dubois was another passenger sitting close to Sister Cora-Ann and explained: "Once I heard that her name sounded like Koran, I got worried. That does not mean that there is anything wrong with me, does it? I just did not want to die. I was so scared, that I just yelled out her name to all passengers." Mr. Okonkwo was a passenger seated a few rows behind and stated: "Once we all heard that the passenger's name was Koran, things started falling apart." Frodo Baggins, a frequent traveler, said he had heard that Muslims do not eat beef. "I did not think that she was Muslim, and to help her out, I took out some of my beef jerky and asked the lady to eat it to prove that she was not a Muslim."

However, Sister Cora-Ann politely refused the beef jerky and reminded the other passengers that it was the time of Lent, during which Catholics often abstain from eating meat. The unrest in the plane kept growing, because most passengers were now convinced that Sister Cora-Ann was indeed Muslim and they demanded that Sister Cora-Ann leave the plane. "I did not want to cause my fellow humans any distress, so I left the plane", she said.

"We were so happy that we could continue our journey", said Frodo Baggins. "Once she de-boarded, it felt like a huge burden was lifted from us." Apparently, there was indeed a Muslim on the plane, by the name of Abdullah Abdullah the 23rd, sitting in the last row. "Of course I knew that she was a Catholic nun and not a Muslim, because I went to a Catholic school and my favorite teachers were Catholic nuns." Abdullah Abdullah went on to say "But let us face it: If you are a Muslim on a plane and someone else is being asked to leave the plane, the best thing is to be quiet and enjoy the show!"

All how you see it

Advertisers have known it for years.  The difference between getting people to buy a widget or not depends on perceptions.  If someone believes that he or she needs a certain good or service, he or she will go to all lengths possible to procure that widget.

Sometimes it takes a fresh set of eyes, or a fresh brain to tweak the ad, to help us to get results.  Ad executives earn big bucks for the fresh new ideas they generate, so why not a casual passerby who wants to reach out a helping hand?  At times, it can make all the difference.



Changing attitudes can sometimes begin with a fresh look at the present situation, and a fresh pair of eyes to help.  Where are those fresh eyes?  What part of my own perception needs to be tweaked?  How does my sign need to be reworded?

Ready in Rome

The organizers say that they're ready to welcome the masses.  Saint Peter's Square in Rome will be the venue for the Beatification ceremony to be celebrated on Sunday, May 1, and from all accounts there will be upwards of a million visitors.

During his pontificate, John Paul II visited all the corners of the world.  He spent his entire life dedicated to the Church, to teaching young people and old to go forward in faith, and not to fear the future.  Among the most prolific of authors, his writings are now part of the teaching authority of the Church, and will be the stuff of teaching for years to come.

In anticipation of the Divine Mercy Sunday celebration this year, the Vatican held a press conference today to explain some of the logistics that have been put in place.  In short, they are waiting for all those who will arrive, and are confident that there will be room for everyone.

On one side of the English channel, there will be a long-awaited wedding, and then days later there will be a celebration of another sort.  In both cases, the preparations and details are phenomenal.  In both cases, the crowds will be eager.  In both cases, there will be a celebration like those cities have not seen for quite some time.

Get ready, get set ...

Ministers, not messiahs

Temptation can be insidious, and cunning, and before we know it we've become ensnared.  Thankfully, there are voices to call us back to reality before it's too late, to help us put things back in persepcetive.  Maybe that's another grace of this Lenten period.

Archbishop Oscar Romero served the Church in the Archdiocese of San Salvador (El Salvador) until his death in 1980.  He dared to challenge the political powers and to speak out in favor of the common folk, and for this he was asasinated while celebrating Mass early one morning.  He is still revered for his commitment to faith, and to the people he so dearly loved.

Among his most famous reflections is a prayer which has become widely known.  It still speaks today in a language of eloquence about the task of service, particularly in the church:

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.


The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
it is even beyond our vision.


We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction
of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work.


Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying
that the kingdom always lies beyond us.


No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the church's mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.


This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise.


We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.


We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation
in realizing that. This enables us to do something,
and to do it very well. It may be incomplete,
but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.


We may never see the end results, but that is the difference
between the master builder and the worker.


We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Amen.

Words of comfort for weary souls.

Sight and insight

Jesus was in the business of healing, right up to the end.  The scripture passages presented throughout the Lenten period show us some of the most dramatic healings, and challenge us to admit that we too are in need of such healing.  The thing is that sometimes we recognize our need for healing and can ask for help, while at other times the impetus has to come from outside, from others, from God.  Here's my take on the encounter of the blind man with Jesus, and its lessons for us today, unless you'd rather listen in instead.

Look beyond

Sometimes, what you see depends on how you look at things.

This week's gospel passage focuses on sight. Our ability to see is one of those things that we usually pay little if any attention to, until it is compromised, or needs to be corrected in some way. Then we go rushing after a doctor of one sort or another, looking for a cure. Is that because we've been conditioned in some way to expect nothing less than perfection? Perhaps we're just grown used to seeking immediate solutions to our problems. Could it be that we're so used to living in a society which allows us to have access to treatments for any maladies, as soon as we perceive a need that we can't even fathom the idea of anything less?

What if, like the man in today's gospel, we were not the ones who sought after immediate cures for our blindnesses? Would we be any less valuable or worthy or loveable? Would we perhaps learn a lesson or two that might change our perspective on life?

The English language distinguishes different references to sight. Today's first reading presents us with one kind of sight: the sight entrusted to Samuel, the kind of sight necessary to discern which one of Jesse's sons was to be chosen, anointed and entrusted with the task of leading the Israelites. The letter to the Ephesians refers to our call to live as children of the light, a second reference to a slightly different meaning of the word sight, and the Gospel presents yet a third understanding of sight, specifically the absence of physical sight, but the presence of trust and faith which can lead to the gift of a much deeper kind of sight. All of these examples reassure us that God has always been close to his people, and throughout history, has given the gift of sight, at times even restored it. In all these cases though, the sight given by faith is different, is deeper than the ordinary everyday understanding of physical sight.

Sight and insight that come with faith do not necessitate the presence of physical sight. Instead, they allow us to see with God's eyes, and seeing with God's eyes allows us to be particularly attuned to the blindnesses that too often exist in our world. Some are blind to prejudices, others are blind to indifference, and still others are blind to the fact that there's anything wrong at all with the society in which we live.

There was a time when faith was the primary source of sight, but in recent times, the secularization of society, the advent of democracy, the insistence on the primacy of human rights, certain scientific advances and even philosophical free thinking have all contributed in one way or other to a blurring of the faith-based sight that once was our primary guide. In a world where religion has been increasingly relegated to the sidelines, and in some cases ignored altogether, sight and insight have now been confined to the realm of an individual's free choice. Society is more and more based on the principle of individualism, and the biggest disease that plagues us is loneliness, along with a resultant spiritual vacuum.

But human beings can't exist for long in the absence of spirituality because sight which is defined by individual choice can all to often end up myopic, focused on the here and now with little or no regard for the big picture, for the ways in which one person's life impacts on the life of another. We might try to deny the fact that we need the sacred but all attempts to do so have thus far led us to lower our expectations of ourselves and of society. The result is a 'new atheism' and religious indifference. In the end we worry about superficial things and miss out on the essentials.

Today's gospel calls each of us to a new sense of sight: the kind of sight that recognizes the danger of individualism, the kind of sight that challenges the secular world not to settle for the mediocre, not to ignore the lure of the sacred because the sacred has the power to entice us, to draw us out of ourselves, to encourage us to look beyond the world around us, to set our sights higher and not to settle for merely acceptable solutions. Do we need new eyes to appreciate the sacred, or just a new appreciation for sight?

Three weeks to go

With just a few weeks to go before Easter, the schedule of events has finally been determined, and will appear in print tomorrow.  Already, as of earlier today, electronic copies of this week's bulletin and the list of times and places for the various liturgies which will be celebrated during Holy Week are available in the on-line world.

This is in addition to electronic copies of the Bishop's Lenten reflection and a list of Penitential Services and opportunities for celebrating Reconciliation in parishes throughout the city.

In the next three weeks, the annual Mass of Chrism will also be celebrated (on April 14) and before we know it, Easter will be here.

Forgiven and free

After about a month (or perhaps it was six weeks or so) of preparation, some of our little friends celebrated the Sacrament of Reconciliation for the very first time last night.  It seemed like only the other day that we had first set eyes on these little ones, and that they had first set eyes on the team that has been working to prepare them for this day.  Thankfully, they all knew at least some of us right from the start: that made it easier to break the ice, and easier for us to begin the process of teaching them about the beauty of this sacrament which seems to be ignored so often in modern society.

Through the use of games and crafts, combined with creative learning opportunities, our little friends made great strides, and surprised us all with the depth of their perception, their openness to the lessons offered, and the wonder with which they approached this evening celebration.

At times, it's nowhere near as difficult to teach children as it is to invite their parents into a meaningful dialogue, but dare I even dream that we have succeeded (to some measure) this year, thanks to the invaluable assistance of one of our friends who offered (or was she conscripted) to help with the explanation of barriers which we sometimes erect ourselves, and which make it all the more easier for us to hide from our duties to live the life to which we were called.  What greater gift can we offer to our little ones, than to share with them the gift of faith, unless we ourselves have lost hope.

Thankfully, our faith assures us the plenitude of hope, even strong enough to overcome despair.

When all was said and done, the celebration of this sacrament was a moment of grace, both for the children and for their parents.  People walked out the door at the end of the evening, refreshed, renewed in spirit, and with smiles on their faces.  I dare to hope that many if not all of them rediscovered the power of Christ's forgiveness, and renewed their own resolve to live as people of faith.