Liturgy Articles - M. Keith LaBove

Is Thanksgiving a religious holiday? It would be fair to say that it’s roots betray a religious purpose, but what about today? The simple answer is that for some, it is not religious at all. Parades and sports, turkey and trimmings will be the order of the day for many people this Thursday, with nary a thought of God entering their minds.

For others, it will be very much a day of giving thanks to God. For people of faith, it is truly impossible to count blessings in our lives without turning to the source of those blessings. And certainly for us as Catholics, it can be a truly holy day, in the midst of the parades and sports, the turkey and trimmings. But how do we do that? The following reflections are centered around the fact that the Celebration of the Eucharist is the ‘source and summit’ of our lives as Catholics. The word ‘Eucharist’ means thanksgiving, which places the giving of thanks at the heart of this sacrifice of praise. So what can our celebration of the Eucharist teach us about giving thanks?

1. Remember: The Mass has two main parts, which together form one act of worship, the Liturgy of the Word, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. In the Liturgy of the Word, we tell our story. We remember. We read from the Hebrew Scriptures, confident that what God did in the midst of the Jewish people centuries ago, he did also for us. Their story is our story. We read from the Gospels, confident that when Jesus reached out to the poor and suffering, the blind and lame, he was also reaching out to us. We read from letters by Paul and Peter and John to the early Church, confident that their church is our church. This makes their story, our story. In telling our story, we remember what God has done for us, we remember the ways in which he has revealed his love, we remember that he has called us to live a life filled with holiness and truth.

2. Remember together: When we celebrate the Eucharist, we do not do it alone. This ‘source and summit’ of our lives is at the heart of a life lived together in community. It would be possible for us to remember only what God has done for me. To do so would be to give in to the individualism and selfishness that pervades our society. Rather we Catholics remember what God has done for us. It is in the midst of the community that God is revealed to us. It is in the midst of the Church that we celebrate our God. It is in the midst of community that is Church that we give thanks for all that God calls us to be, His people, his very own. Jesus died not just for me, not just for you, but for us all.

3. Remember together gratefully: Paul tells us to dedicate ourselves to thankfulness. This means that our giving thanks to God is not the task of just one day out of the year. Instead, gratitude should be part and parcel of our entire lives. We are called not just to give thanks, but to live lives in gratitude and thanksgiving. Resentment, anger, and self-pity have no place in our hearts, for they banish gratitude, leaving us bitter and cold. Gratitude opens our hearts to God and to one another, making us a people filled with generosity and forgiveness. We seek to give back something of what we have received.

We remember — together — gratefully!

August 15, 1999 – A Marian Feast

Did Mary die? Why do we sometimes speak of Mary’s ‘Dormition’ (a word that means ‘going to sleep’)? How different is Mary, the Mother of God, from us?

These are the kinds of questions that are raised by the feast we celebrate this weekend, the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It’s a feast about the concluding events of Mary’s life on this earth. We know, in the teaching of the Immaculate Conception, that the merits of Christ were extended to Mary, his Mother, even before his birth, by keeping her free from original sin from the moment of her conception. What about the end?

Certainly Mary is not walking around on earth today. Like all of us, her earthly life did come to a close, as it will for each of us. So we can say, yes, Mary died. At the same time, this feast of the Assumption teaches us that at the end of her life, Mary was assumed, body and soul, into heaven. The major difference here for this ‘perfect disciple’ was that earthly corruption was not allowed to touch her body, the body that gave birth to the Son of God. But her life here did end.

To truly understand this feast, we must look in two directions, recalling that feasts of Mary are intended to teach us about ourselves as much as about her.

We look first to the resurrection of Jesus. In that saving event, God the Father revealed his power over sin and death, raising Jesus his Son from the dead, in the Holy Spirit. In so doing, Christ opened the gates to everlasting life for each and every one of us. The new life won for us in Christ is therefore a fruit or benefit of our faith and discipleship, as we strive to be faithful to our own vocation.

In this light, Mary stands as the first to benefit from the fruits of Christ’s resurrection. Her Assumption into Heaven presents us with clear evidence that Christ’s resurrection is effective in the lives of those who believe in him. Just as it was the merits of Christ which kept Mary free from Original Sin, so is it the saving death of Christ which draws her into heaven’s loving embrace at the end of her life on this earth.

This leads us the second direction we must look, which is of course the meaning of this teaching for ourselves. It can be summed up in this phrase: “Where she has gone, we hope to follow”. Feasts of Mary, such as the Assumption, are feasts of promise and hope for the entire Body of Christ, the Church. In speaking of Mary’s Dormition, the Church emphasizes that death does not end our lives, but is rather a crossing over into a new and glorious life, with God forever, in Christ Jesus.

So is Mary different from us? Yes and no. Her role in God’s saving of the world is unique. At the same time, she stands as model and example for us. As she shared in Christ’s resurrection, so do we hope to do.

June 13, 1999 – The Extraordinary Ordinary

This Sunday, the long stretch of special seasons and feasts comes to a close. We’ve celebrated the Lenten and Easter seasons, concluding with the celebration of Pentecost, Trinity Sunday, and the Feast of Corpus Christi. Now, we’re back to “Ordinary Time”. This will be our ‘season’ until Advent in early December.

The name itself is deceiving. These Sundays are called “ordinary”, not because they aren’t special, but rather because the are counted, in the sense of ‘ordinal numbers’. This week marks the eleventh Sunday during this time. (We did the first few ‘counted’ Sundays between Christmas and Lent.)

As a matter of fact, no Sunday can be called ‘ordinary’, in the sense of being humdrum or unexceptional. Every Sunday, “the first day of the week” referred to in the Scriptures, is a celebration of the Easter event. And there is nothing ordinary about the Lord’s resurrection from the dead! It was on that first Easter Sunday that the Lord appeared to the women in the garden and the disciples on the road to Emmaus, as well as to the apostles gathered in the upper room. It was on the following Sunday that he appeared again to those gather in that room. In was on the first day of the eighth week after Easter that the Spirit came in the event we call Pentecost. All of this imparts to every Sunday a special and sacred character.

Another aspect of the specialness of Sunday is the fact that this is the primary day on which the Catholic Church gathers for prayer. And when we gather on Sunday, we celebrate the Eucharist, the foremost sacrament of the seven. It is the Eucharist which is the highest expression of the Church’s unity and ministry, as we celebrate the presence of the Lord at the two tables, the Table of the Word, and the Table of the Eucharist. At the same time, it is this same Eucharist which constitutes and forms us as a Church. It is truly the ‘source and summit’ of our life together. Eucharist forms us as a community, and sends us out into the world to continue the work of Christ.

This importance of Sunday, and of the Sunday Eucharist, makes clear why the Church speaks of obligation in regard to attending Mass on that day. We belong to a Church whose members have accepted death as martyrs, rather than not celebrate the Sunday Eucharist.

We need to remember this as we move into summer. Many good events happen on weekends. We take to the skies and highways for well-deserved vacations. The beaches and the lakes are especially inviting. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

At the same time, we don’t want Mass to become something we ‘squeeze in’, if convenient. How about this striking and counter-cultural idea: In planning our weekends, we first plan when we will attend Mass, and then we organize everything else around that. Try it.

March 21, 1999 – That Holy Week

Early in the Lenten Season, I shared with you the following words from one of the Prefaces to the Eucharistic Prayer for Lent: “Each year you give us this joyful season when we prepare to celebrate the paschal mystery with mind and heart renewed.” These words certainly tell us something of the character of this season, as an opportunity for repentance and return to the Lord. As we enter into the last two weeks of this season of grace, we pray that these days have been exactly that.

That phrase also reminds us why the Church gives us this season. To wit: “we prepare to celebrate the paschal mystery”. That mystery is nothing less than the passion, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. The entire season of Lent looks forward to this celebration which stands at the heart of our faith as Catholics.

Next weekend, we begin to move into our recalling those events by celebrating Palm/Passion Sunday. At the beginning of each Mass, we will recall Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, with the blessing and receiving of palms. And in the Liturgy of the Word of the Mass, we will hear once again the story of the Passion, which reveals to us the love of a God, our God, who sent us his only Son to die for us. (In planning for next Sunday, remember that these special parts of our celebration will make Mass a bit longer.)

I mentioned last weekend at each Mass the days will that will follow Passion Sunday, during the time we call Holy Week. These last days of the Lenten Season are truly the holiest of the year. And the Church provides us with powerful liturgies to celebrate these days.

Holy Week offers us a special opportunity to revisit the institution of the Eucharist, at the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper, on Holy Thursday. Not only do we turn our attention to that first celebration of the Eucharist, but we also recall Jesus’ command to serve one another, in our ritual of the Washing of the Feet. At the end of the service, we take the Blessed Sacrament to a special place of repose, for adoration until 11:00 p.m., recalling the time Jesus spent in the Garden of Gethsemane.

On Friday, the one we call ‘Good’, we recall the actual crucifixion and death of Jesus. In the Commemoration of the Lord’s Passion, we hear again the story of the Passion itself, during a service unlike any other. We take time to actually venerate with a kiss ‘the wood of the cross, on which is hung our salvation’. And then, since we do not celebrate Mass on this day, we simply receive communion, from what was consecrated the night before.

The emptiness of Good Friday continues into Holy Saturday, as we recall the time Christ spent in the tomb. As a church, we simply cannot wait until until the next morning to celebrate the empty tomb. We gather at night, hopeful and faithful, to watch and pray, to keep vigil, at the service we call the Easter Vigil. The blessing of new fire, the Service of Light, the special readings from God’s Word, the welcoming of new Catholics into the Church, and the actual celebration of Mass, not done anywhere in the Church since Holy Thursday evening, make this celebration the high point of our common worship in the Church.

Holy Thursday, Good Friday, & the Easter Vigil: Coming soon to a Church near you. Limited engagement. Admission is free. No reservations necessary.

March 7, 1999 – Christ and Neighbor

Last week I wrote in the space about the importance of our full, active and conscious participation in the Celebration of the Mass. This is how we can most fully experience the real, four-fold presence of Christ in the Eucharist. As we noted, when we celebrate the Mass, Christ is present in the gathered assembly, the Body of Christ. He is present in the priest who represents Christ, leading the people in prayer and sacrifice. He is present in his Word, as the Scriptures are proclaimed in our midst, God speaking to each of our hearts. And Christ is present, in a substantial and unique way, in the Eucharistic elements themselves, as bread and wine are truly changed into the Body and Blood of Jesus.

This celebration of the Mass is not only at the heart of our life together as a parish. It is also given to us by God, through the Church, to be at the heart of our faith life as individuals. The Catechism of the Catholic Church, in talking about the parish, gives us the following teaching from St. John Chrysostom, one of the Fathers of the Church: “You cannot pray at home as at church, where there is a great multitude, where exclamations are cried out to God, as from one great heart, and where there is something more: the union of minds, the accord of souls, the bond of charity, the prayers of the priests.”

This teaching from the 4th century makes clear the centrality of the Mass for each of us Catholics. It is precisely in our responses to the prayers, in our joining in song, in our communal silent prayer, in following in our hearts the prayers said by the priest, and in our reverent reception of Word and Sacrament that we make this Sacrifice of the Mass our own. The Mass is not a spectator sport.

There is another essential way in which we deepen our appreciation for and participation in the Eucharist. That is through our private prayer. Both prayer in the community, and prayer alone are essential elements of our spiritual life. Praying with the community at Mass enables us to go to God alone in those quiet moments, and our prayer in solitude draws us ever more deeply into our worship as community, as the Body of Christ.

Quiet prayer before the Blessed Sacrament, either exposed in the monstrance or in the tabernacle, is an excellent way of doing this. The Church commends to us this devotion as a way of deepening our relationship with the Lord, and with his Church. At the same time this devotion is always secondary to the actual celebration of the Eucharist, since it flows from the Mass, and is meant to lead us back to it. For example, when the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, there are to be no more candles than one usually uses at Mass, lest some might be led to think that Adoration is somehow more significant. Likewise, when the Blessed Sacrament is exposed, we genuflect on one knee (not two), just as we normally do when entering Church for Mass. The goal here is to give Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament its proper, balanced place in our life of prayer, leading us always back to the Celebration of the Mass.

One final note: All of this appreciation of the presence of Jesus in the Mass and the tabernacle will be useless if we are not also attentive to Christ’s presence in our brothers and sisters. Whatsoever we do unto them, we do unto Christ. We cannot love God, and ignore our neighbor. It cannot be Christ OR neighbor. It is always Christ AND our neighbor.

February 14, 1999 – The Preface of Lent

First of all, what is the Preface? It is that part of the Eucharistic Prayer between the Introductory Dialogue (The Lord be with you, And also with you, etc.), and the Holy, Holy, Holy. While there are only a handful of Eucharistic Prayers, there are many more Prefaces, for certain feasts and seasons, for saints and martyrs, for weekdays and Sundays. They provide a particular focus to the rest of the Eucharistic Prayer.

That being said, one of the Prefaces we use has this line: “Each year, you give us this joyful season . . .”. At first glance, we might think that this is a Preface for Easter, or perhaps Christmas. The truth is, this is from one of the Prefaces for Lent, which we don’t tend to think of as an exactly joyful season, especially compared to other times of the year.

So where do we find this joy in Lent? The first place we might consider looking is the destination for our Lenten journey. The entire season of Lent is a time of preparation and anticipation, looking forward to the greatest feast of the year, the celebration of Easter. Even as we enter Lent, we focus our gaze not only upon the cross, but also upon the empty tomb. We do Lent so that we can do Easter, celebrating the victory of Christ our Savior over sin and death, raised up to new life by the Father’s love.

But what about right in the midst of Lent itself? Is there any reason for joy in the very practices of prayer, self-denial and alms-giving to the poor? Consider the alternative.

On Ash Wednesday, our entire community admits one hard and central fact: we are sinners. Suppose that this was the end of the story, that there were no opportunities for repentance, and that we were simply trapped in our sin forever. Without even the possibility of forgiveness, the admission that we are sinners would certainly be a cry of despair, without hope for salvation.

But this is not what Lent is about. In hearing the words, ‘Turn away from your sins and believe in the Gospel”, we embrace both the fact that we are sinners, and the possibility of forgiveness and reconciliation. This very possibility is rooted in our belief in the Gospel.

Consider prayer. We wouldn’t bother unless we believed that God wanted to hear from us, wanted to be with us, in our hearts and our lives. In giving alms, we reach out to those less fortunate than ourselves, rejoicing in the generosity of God that makes our giving possible. And yes, there is even joy in self-denial.

Some might say, “Why bother denying yourself?” Have you ever seen a child who is never told ‘No’? This unfortunate child never learns that there are some things he or she simply should not or cannot have.

When we confront the possibility of sin in our lives, we are the ones who have to say ‘No’, probably to something that seems very attractive, in its own seductive way. No one else can voice that ‘No’ for us. When we deny ourselves during Lent, we are exercising, if you will, learning that we can make choices in our lives. We make ourselves more able to say ‘No’ when temptation rears its ugly head.

The joy of self-denial is found in its very possibility. It means I am not trapped in sin, I am not ensnared in forever saying ‘Yes’ to sin. By God’s grace, we can choose to do right, to love justice, to walk humbly with our God. This is what the Lenten journey is about. All of this makes the season of Lent a joyful time indeed!

November 29, 1998 – Starting Advent

What is the greatest feast of the Church year? Even though it does tend to get less attention out in society, that feast is Easter. It is the Sunday of Sundays, the celebration of the Lord’s resurrection, which is then echoed on every other Sunday of the year. If someone asks, what is the ‘theme’ of our Catholic Mass, that is the answer: the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

So important is this feast that we celebrate the liturgical season of Easter for some seven weeks after the event itself, moving through the Ascension to Pentecost. In preparation for Easter, the Church gives us the season of Lent, so that we might wholeheartedly rejoice in the One who set us free from sin and division.

The other great event that we celebrate each year is of course the Incarnation, the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem. This feast of Christmas points us always to the Resurrection, since it was for this that he came. Again, we celebrate Christmas for several weeks after the event. And, as with Easter, the Church gives us a special time of preparation and anticipation before Christmas, a time we call Advent.

These four seasons, Lent and Easter, Advent and Christmas, together make up the times of special focus in the course of our liturgical year. It is a yearly cycle that begins with Advent (this weekend!), and continues through the months that follow. The other Sundays of the year, which we call Ordinary time (because these Sundays are counted) as well as the Sundays of these seasons are all focused on celebrating the Lord’s resurrection.

This is not to deny the special flavor of the four seasons. While celebrating Christ’s victory over sin and death, we focus during these times on particular aspects of the mystery of our salvation: His victory over death, the possibility of forgiveness of sin, the Word becoming Flesh, and our spirit of waiting and expectation.

Today we begin that season of hope and expectation that we call Advent. It is a short season, only a few weeks. The prayers and Scripture readings, the decorations and music all speak to our need and desire for the coming of the Lord into our lives. We long for his presence in our hearts and lives and world today, as well as for his coming at the end of time, when he will make all things new. The season concludes with the celebration of Christmas, when we rejoice in Christ’s birth in time 2000 years ago, as well as in his dwelling in our midst today.

As wonderful as this season is, it would be possible to miss it completely. If Advent is to be a special time for us, we must make it so. We enter into the prayer and worship of the Church, we spend time in private prayer, we do whatever we must to be ready for the coming of our Savior. The words of John the Baptist direct us: Prepare the Way of the Lord!

October 18, 1998 – The Power of Ritual

Last week, I wrote in this space concerning the power of the Liturgy of the Word, God’s Word spoken in our midst. In addition, we began last weekend to offer a time of silent reflection in the midst of the readings, to provide a space for that Word to ‘settle in’. We all know that our world offers us few opportunities for reflective silence in our lives. Hopefully, this will help us in appreciating the role of those silent moments at various moments during the Mass.

Another aspect of the Mass that is often un-appreciated in our society today is the value of ritual. By ritual, we mean that repeated action that makes up the framework, or skeleton, for our prayer. While various prayers, readings and songs change each week at Mass, the basic structure of the liturgy, including the Liturgy of the Word, and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, remains the same.

On a practical level, this means that we don’t have to re-invent the wheel each time we gather as a community. Instead we can enter into a space of familiarity and comfort, knowing basically what comes next. This is particularly important in the context of prayer, where it is not only we as community who are active. In prayer, we are always striving to create a space of hospitality, in our midst and in our hearts, where God can enter in.

The repeated action of ritual does this for us. And again, it is something that our society often doesn’t value. In the marketing-driven world that surrounds, we would be led to believe that the new is always better, and that we must be entertained and surprised at every turn, just to keep our attention. Anything else, we are told, would be boring.

One powerful example of this is the ritual of the Communion Procession. Week after week, we process up to receive the same Lord, the same Savior, his Body and Blood under forms of bread and wine. We don’t need to vary the menu, for nothing could be more valuable to us. We don’t need to devise new ways of getting to the front of Church, since the ritual of the procession has a value all it’s own. It is familiar, and comfortable, and creates the space where we can encounter God, and one another, in prayer.

This Communion Procession, Sunday after Sunday, also teaches us something about who we are, who we are called to be. The Church is often spoken of as a Pilgrim People, a people on the way. We are reminded of the Israelites preparing to leave Egypt, told to share the Passover meal standing up, staff in hand, ready to move out where God would lead.

As we journey forward to receive the Lord, and move on, we are reminded that we have a mission. We do not come only to receive the Lord, and be with him. We come also to be enriched, empowered and enabled, so that we can move out into the world, there to do the will of the Father as Jesus did.

And at the end of Mass, in another part of our ritual, we are dismissed; we are sent out, to continue this Communion procession, bringing the Christ we have received out into the world.

We do this every week. This is our ritual.

October 11, 1998 – The Scriptures at Mass

This past week, I had the opportunity to speak to our RCIA group about the Sacred Scriptures. The presentation was a basic overview of the Catholic Church’s understanding of the Bible, and how we use it in our faith life.

The presentation began with the fact that our God is a God of revelation. In his great love for us, God has chosen to reveal himself to us in many ways, and of course, especially in his Son, Jesus. The Sciptures, the written Word of God, stand out as a unique and privileged way we have to learn about our God, our faith, and the life to which we are called.

One thing which I am fond of pointing out about the New Testament is that it flowed out of the faith life of the Church. The Catholic Church existed some 30 or so years before even the earliest part of the Bible was written down (1 Thessalonians). It was over the next 30 - 40 years that the rest of the New Testament was written. Prior to the writing down of the Bible, there was an oral tradition, stories handed down in the midst of the community of faith.

It remains rather amazing that we still have this collection of books. The fact that the Church worked very hard to preserve these writings stands as a witness to the importance the Church has always given to the Scriptures.

The challenge to us is to give the Scriptures the same importance in our own lives. For most of us, the most significant way in which we encounter the Scriptures is at Mass. In the Liturgy of the Word, we encounter Christ truly present in our midst, since it is Christ who is the Word proclaimed in the Scriptures. By way of the 3 yearly cycles of Sunday readings in the Lectionary (the book we read the Scriptures from at Mass), we are exposed to almost the entirety of the Bible each and every 3 years.

And what do we do at the end of that 3 year cycle? We start over again at the beginning. The Bible is not a novel one reads once and stores away. As believers, we return again and again to God’s Word, asking to be open to the message he would speak to us today.

That is why we publish in the bulletin each week the readings for the following Sunday. Reading the Scriptures before arriving at Mass makes each of us more receptive to the Word that God would speak to us. We want to hear that Word.

Beginning this weekend at Mass, we will begin to have a period of silent reflection inserted in the Liturgy of the Word. The purpose is simply to give each of us time to reflect on the words that have been read, that we might hear that Word, not only with our ears, but with heart and mind and soul.

Imagine if God has never spoken to us in his Word. Imagine if God had spoken, and we never listened. How impoverished we would be!

August 30, 1998 – Sunday and “The Weekend”

Last week, I included in the bulletin a short quote from a recent letter by Pope John Paul II, On Keeping the Lord’s Day Holy. That passage spoke of the centrality of the Eucharist in the life of the Church, and therefore the importance of the Sunday celebration.

In the very beginning of the letter, the Holy Father reflects on the current situation in society, in these words:

“Until quite recently, it was easier in traditionally Christian countries to keep Sunday holy because it was an almost universal practice and because, even in the organization of civil society, Sunday rest was considered a fixed part of the work schedule. Today, however, even in those countries which give legal sanction to the festive character of Sunday, changes in socioeconomic conditions have often led to profound modifications of social behaviour and hence of the character of Sunday. The custom of the "weekend" has become more widespread, a weekly period of respite, spent perhaps far from home and often involving participation in cultural, political or sporting activities which are usually held on free days. This social and cultural phenomenon is by no means without its positive aspects if, while respecting true values, it can contribute to people's development and to the advancement of the life of society as a whole. All of this responds not only to the need for rest, but also to the need for celebration which is inherent in our humanity. Unfortunately, when Sunday loses its fundamental meaning and becomes merely part of a "weekend", it can happen that people stay locked within a horizon so limited that they can no longer see "the heavens". Hence, though ready to celebrate, they are really incapable of doing so.”

What I find striking in this passage is the distinction the Holy Father makes between the custom of the ‘weekend’, and the celebration of Sunday. On the one hand, the ‘weekend’ might be a time of freedom from all responsibility and duties, or a time of pursuing favorite activities. As the Pope mentions, there is much that is good here.

But isn’t it possible that this view of the ‘weekend’ can easily drive out the importance of celebrating Sunday? Because we are Catholic, we do have a certain responsibility on the weekend, namely to gather with the community of the faithful, to offer praise and worship to God at Mass. When these two activities conflict, to which do we give importance?

When I’m planning my ‘weekend’, do I put all my other activities in place, and squeeze in Mass somewhere? Or do I give priority to worshipping the Lord, working the rest of my activities around that event? Each and every week, we have the opportunity to gather with our faith community, and celebrate again the Lord’s resurrection. That, my friends, is a precious gift.

June 21, 1998 – Ordinary Time & the Readings

Some things just don’t translate well. This holds true also for some of the words we use to speak of faith and liturgy, brought over often from the Latin, or even Greek. The part of the church year that we are in this Sunday is a good example.

We find ourselves this weekend celebrating the Twelfth Sunday in Ordinary time. We began Ordinary Time on the day after Pentecost, but had two feasts on the last two Sundays, Trinity and Corpus Christi, which took priority. This season is the longest of the liturgical year, having a total of 34 weeks. We have usually 8 or 9 of those weeks between the Christmas and Lenten seasons. We take up the season again after Easter ends on Pentecost Sunday. The 34th, or last Sunday in Ordinary Time, is always the Feast of Christ the King, followed immediately by the First Sunday of Advent.

The problem is with the name: Ordinary. It’s one of those words taken over from the Latin, which can be a little misleading. Each and every Sunday of the year, whether in Advent, Lent or Easter, is anything but ‘ordinary’. It is the day of the week when the Catholic community gathers to celebrate the death and rising of our Lord, the Paschal Mystery.

The root of the word ‘ordinary’ has another meaning besides plain, familiar, or routine. It means ‘counted’ in the sense of ‘ordinal numbers’. The fact that we call this Sunday the thirteen in Ordinary Time simply means that this is the time of the year when we simply count the Sundays. Unlike Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter, there is no particular aspect of our faith upon which we focus. Instead, our celebrations embrace the entirety of the Gospels and Tradition of the Church. Another name might be the ‘Thirteenth Sunday in Numbered Time’ — more accurate, but not so elegant.

During this time, we return to our reading of the Gospel of the year, which this year is Luke. If you’ll note the Sunday readings, you’ll find that we are reading through Luke rather consecutively. The first, or Old Testament reading is chosen to highlight some aspect of that Gospel reading. The second reading, currently from the Letter to the Galatians, is also read consecutively. It may or may not really have any connection with the first reading, or the Gospel.

None of this is ‘ordinary, in the sense of unexceptional. Every time we gather to hear God’s Word, and celebrate the Eucharist, it remains unique and special. Sunday, even in ‘Ordinary Time’, remains the holiest day of the week. It is the day on which we are fed and nourished, called and sent, to go back out into the workaday world to live the Gospel message.

If we bring that Gospel with us, and strive to live it, then there is no time that is ‘ordinary’, because we live daily in the grace of Christ, who is indeed extraordinary!

June 7, 1998 – Worthy to Receive Communion

You never know where the questions will come from! This one came from a young boy, who had something he had been trying to figure out. It went like this: “You know, at Mass before Communion, we say, ‘Lord I am not worthy to receive you. But only say the word, and I shall be healed’. What is ‘the word’.”

Good question! The answer? Jesus. That’s it. He is the Word, the Word made Flesh, spoken in our midst, who gives us the Eucharist, and enables us to approach the sacrificial table to be nourished and healed. He is the ‘Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world’, and invites us to His supper.

The phrase, ‘Only say the word’ also harks back to the encounter of Jesus with the Roman official who requested healing for his family member. When Jesus offered to go to his house, the official spoke of his own authority over the men in his command, and implored Jesus to simply ‘say the word’ and his loved one would be healed. Jesus said the word.

This question draws us also into the whole area of our worthiness to receive Communion. Perhaps the first thing we should say is that we cannot earn the right to approach God’s banquet table. Not only is this beyond human power, but more importantly, it is God’s gift to us. This gift is freely offered, flowing from God’s abundant generosity and kindness. It is not our own actions that make us worthy, but rather God’s Word, spoken in time, for all ages.

At the same time, we also have our part to play. It is quite possible for us to make ourselves unworthy to receive this precious gift. We do that through serious sin, sin that alienates us from God and the Church, sin that we Catholics call mortal, as in deadly. Anything that totally separates us from God, and the Eucharist, is fatal to the life of the soul. Grievous sin does that.

The remedy, of course, is contrition and confession, seeking another of God’s gifts, his forgiveness for sin. For us as Catholics, this forgiveness is celebrated in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, necessary for anyone who has committed mortal sin.

Why can’t I just go straight to God?, as some ask? Because this denies the nature of sin itself, which is both personal, and communal. Every sin is not only against God, but against my brothers and sisters in the Church. To ‘go straight to God’ is to accomplish only a portion of the reconciling and forgiving that must be done. In the Sacrament of Reconciliation, the priest speaks God’s forgiveness, and speaks the forgiveness of the Church, as representative of both. Only then are we again able to worthily accept God’s gift.

As a matter of fact, Jesus said it quite well, in the 5th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel: “Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” There at the altar, God says “The Word”, and we are healed!

A final word seems appropriate as to the nature of mortal sin. While all evil is to be avoided, not every seriously evil action is a mortal sin. Sin by its nature is a choice. For sin to be mortal, the action must be very serious, we must know that it is serious, and we must freely choose that action. If any of these conditions is lacking, then the sin is not mortal. It may still be sin, but venial, or less serious in nature. Or it may not be sin at all, if it was something, for example in which we had no choice. If it is sin, then it is truly God’s Word which heals us and invites us.

May 10, 1998 – Communion – Alone Together

This weekend and last weekend saw the celebration of their First Communion for some 86 of the children of our parish. Their readiness for this grace-filled event is rooted not only in the education they received this year, but in the entire formation they have been receiving from their parents and the community. It is certainly reason to rejoice!

It is also an opportunity for us to reflect on our sharing in this thanksgiving sacrifice at the table of the Lord. Recently I found in our missalette a reflection on one aspect of the Communion Rite, on page 251. Speaking mostly about singing during Communion, it begins as follows:

“While we receive holy communion as individuals, our encounter with the Lord is not a private one, it is an action of the entire community. We gather to listen to God’s Word, to give thanks and praise, to celebrate the mystery of the Lord’s death and resurrection. Having united our own sacrifices to the one sacrifice of Christ, we come forward to be nourished by the Body broken and the Blood poured out.”

I offer this as a reminder of the healthy tension that exists at Communion time, and really throughout the Mass. While we are present as individuals, we are there with a community. Both aspects of our prayer need to be respected. Attendance at Mass that ignores the other people present is an attempt to deny the communal nature of our worship together. And being attentive to other people while ignoring the Lord is just as one-sided. In receiving Communion, we each receive the Lord, with one another.

The second reflection I would offer is taken from a little pamphlet I ran across, which speaks of reverence at the Eucharist. I quote:

“The manner in which we receive communion, that is, the ritual that we follow reveals our understanding and appreciation of this mystery. The ritual that we use during the reception of Communion is very simple but one filled with meaning and significance. As we approach the minister distributing the Body of Christ, he or she holds up the Host before us and says, “Body of Christ” and we respond aloud “Amen”. . . . The same is true when we are presented with the cup containing the Blood of Christ.

“We then either extend our hands or extend our tongue to receive the Host. Receiving in the hands, which is the older, more traditional form, or receiving on the tongue, must reflect our reverence for the Eucharist. If we receive in the hands, the reverent way is to place the one hand in the palm of the other and extend the hands at a height which is visible to the minister. We then take the Host and consume it. If we receive on the tongue, the tongue should be fully extended to receive the Host.

“When receiving the Blood of Christ from the cup, we take the cup into both hands and take a sip from it.

“This is the entire ritual. People have taken it upon themselves to add gestures such as genuflecting or kneeling or making the Sign of the Cross before and after they receive. Although these can be seen as signs of respect, they are not part of the ritual as given by the Church, and in fact, may distract or even hinder others in the reception of the Eucharist.” (end quote)

This reminds us that as we receive our Lord, how we do it is significant. It is both an individual, and community action, and should express reverence both for the Lord, and respect for those around us.

April 5, 1998 – The Easter Vigil and the Triduum

Perhaps He’ll come next Sunday. Perhaps not. We’ve been waiting for the Lord’s return, praying, ‘Come, Lord Jesus’, for quite some time now. The 1998th anniversary of His resurrection would not be a bad choice.

Then, again, it may be another couple of thousand years before the coming again of God’s Son, Jesus Christ. No one knows the day or the hour.

In the early years of the Church, there was a strong expectation that the Lord would return any day. When they gathered on Sunday, the first day of the week, they wondered if it would be the day of his return. There was even a sense of disappointment as the years went by.

This expectation was heightened on the anniversary of the Lord’s resurrection. So great was the anticipation that they gathered on the evening before, for a prayer vigil. They gathered in prayer, reading the story of salvation, in preparation for the Lord’s return.

This coming Saturday evening we will continue that tradition. At 8:00 pm, so that it is dark, we will gather to celebrate the Easter Vigil. We will light new fire, bless a new candle, and sing the praises of Christ our Light. As did the early Church, we will tell our story, of Creation, of Exodus, God’s call to be his people. We will welcome new members into the Church, and celebrate Christ’s abiding presence in the Eucharist. This is truly the most blessed of all nights!

We will prepare for that great event on the two prior evenings. On Thursday, we will recall Christ’s institution of the Eucharist, and his call to service, by having Mass and re-enacting the washing of the feet. On Friday, we will enter into the experience of Christ crucified, and in the tomb, living briefly without the sacraments. We will re-visit the story of his Passion, and we will venerate his cross, on which hung the savior of the world.

These three days, the holiest days of the year, sum up our salvation in Christ. Every other celebration of the Church, including Sunday Mass throughout the year, flows from and points to the celebration of the Tridumm (three days).

Have you ever experienced the fullness and richness of this event? Any Catholic who has not attended Holy Thursday, and Good Friday, and Easter Vigil services is missing out on part of the uniqueness and vitality of our faith tradition. The services are different, The Easter Vigil is long, and its not always convenient. But it is worth it.

So this is my plea - if you haven’t planned to do so already, consider making these services part of your Easter celebration. They are at the very heart of our faith, yes, even more so than Christmas! So, come, and be taught, and fed and nourished at the Tables of the Word and Eucharist, that is God’s gift. We know Christ died and rose from the dead. Let us celebrate that glorious event!

February 1, 1998 – Communion Elsewhere

Just this week, someone called the office with a question which I thought might be of interest to our parish. So I answer it here today.

The question concerned attending a wedding at a different Christian church, and why we do not go to communion there. Many other churches offer what is called ‘open communion’, which means that they invite anyone to share in communion with them.

We as Catholics do not have open communion, and for very good reasons. The first reason revolves around how we understand the nature of the Eucharist itself. We believe that when the priest prays the Eucharistic prayer, the bread and wine are substantially changed. This change results in that bread and wine becoming the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. The change is not visible to the senses of sight, touch and taste, but is real nonetheless. Therefore we speak of the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.

Now there are other people out there who are not Catholic, but believe in the Real Presence. Some might think that if the personal belief of the person matches ours, then sharing Catholic communion with them would be okay. This brings us to the second barrier to open communion.

The Eucharist in the Catholic Church is never an event taking place just between me and Jesus. It is also an act of the entire worshipping community, and really the entire Catholic Church, united in faith throughout the world. While my personal belief in the nature of the Eucharist is essential, that alone is not enough.

When we share in the Eucharist together as Catholics, we also our affirm our common belief in the entirety of the Christian message. Having prayed the Creed together, we share Communion as a people united in faith. Our common Communion is an statement about our unity of faith in the Catholic Church.

People from other churches of course, do not share this with us. Therefore, while we pray for unity with them one day, we do not pretend that it exists now. This is why we do not share communion with people of other Churches.

January 25, 1998 – God’s Word & The Lectionary

Last week in this space, we explored a bit the Liturgical Year of the Church, comprised of the various seasons, as well as Ordinary Time. It seems fitting to follow up with a look at another part of the Liturgy of the Eucharist that has it’s own rhythm and pattern.

In the Second Vatican Council’s decree on the Liturgy, we find these words: “Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that full, conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy, and to which the Christian people, ‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people’ (1 Pet. 2:9, 4-5) have a right and obligation by reason of their baptism.” One way the Church pursued that goal was to expand the readings from Holy Scripture that are read at every Mass. The same document said that, “In sacred celebrations a more ample, more varied, and more suitable reading from sacred scripture should be restored”.

So we have the current Lectionary, the book which contains all the readings for the public worship of the Church. For Sundays, we have a three year cycle, (Years A, B, & C). For weekdays, we have a two year cycle (Years 1 & 2), in which the first reading is different in each year.

In selecting the readings for the new Lectionary, the Church was committed to offering the faithful the full richness of the Word of God contained in the Bible. Anyone attending Mass over the entire course of the 3 year cycle would hear almost the entire Bible.

The first reading is usually taken from the Old Testament, the Hebrew Scriptures. The exception to this is the Easter season, when we read from the Acts of the Apostles. The second reading normally comes from one of the letters by Paul, Peter, John, etc. The third reading, of course, comes from one of the four Gospels, the specialness of which we mark by standing when it is read.

By listening with head and heart to God’s Word at Mass, we seek to become ever more aware of his Presence, both at Mass, and in our daily lives.

January 18, 1998 – Colors and the Liturgical Year

One of the children of our community recently asked her Mom about the banners outside of our Church, and in particular about the various colors. It was a very good question, since the banners and their colors are not just chosen at random. It seemed a good idea to say something about the Liturgical Year in the church.

The Liturgical Year is that yearly cycle of seasons and feasts which give both life and color to our celebration of our faith. Each year, we begin anew, on the First Sunday of Advent, recalling and rejoicing in the events of our salvation. It is a clear reminder that we are a people with a history, and that God has intervened in that history, most especially in Christ his Son.

Truly, the Liturgical Year revolves around the feast of Easter. That feast is the summit of all our celebrations, as we celebrate in a special way the Resurrection of our Lord, in connection with his passion and death. This same theme is taken up on each and every Sunday of the year, as once a week we rejoice in Christ’s victory over sin and death.

These Sundays and feasts scattered throughout the year take on a special character, depending upon when they occur. The Church gives us special seasons, during which we focus on certain aspects of our faith. Each is marked by a particular color, which sets that time apart.

So, in Advent, we use violet, and focus on hope and expectation. During the Christmas season, we use white, and turn our attention to the Incarnation, the birth of our Savior. The Lenten season uses violet also, and provides us with a special opportunity for conversion and repentance. Easter returns to white, and calls us to reflect on the meaning of the Resurrection in our lives.

The rest of the year is called Ordinary Time, during which we wear green. Yet even this time, such as this Sunday, isn’t really ordinary, since on each and every Sunday, it is still the Resurrection of our Lord that we celebrate.

As we move from season to season, and color to color, we seek to grow in our appreciation and gratitude for the wonderful things that God has done in our midst!

December 7, 1997 – Becoming What we Receive

“The Body of Christ.” “The Blood of Christ.” The priest or minister speaks these words when offering to us the Eucharist. On the one hand, the person distributing the Body and Blood of Christ is describing the gift that is offered: bread and wine, taken and blessed and broken and shared, that have become for us the Real Presence of Christ our Lord. What our senses tell us is mere bread, our faith reveals as the Body of Christ.

But that is not all. That phrase, “the Body of Christ”, also describes those who receive God’s precious gift of Himself. When we gaze upon the Communion Procession, and when we look upon the members of the Church standing to receive the Eucharist, what are we seeing? We are seeing the Body of Christ receiving the Body of Christ. When we distribute Eucharist as ministers, we offer the Body of Christ to the Body of Christ.

That is the beauty of the simple response that the Church gives us. When we say, ‘Amen’, we are voicing a definite and clear ‘Yes’ to all of this, not just one part of it. We are saying ‘Amen’ to the belief that this bread and wine are the Body and Blood of Christ. Our ‘Amen’ also affirms our identity and dignity as the Body of Christ here on earth.

This is why one of the Fathers of the Church could say of the Eucharist, ‘Become what you receive’. While we are now the Body of Christ, we are not as fully or perfectly that Body as we could be, or as we shall be. Being the Body of Christ means that we strive to imitate Jesus of Nazareth in all things, letting his example guide each and every aspect of our lives.

This becoming Christ’s Body is certainly one aspect of the season of Advent. Christ cannot truly come into our midst without radically changing our hearts and our lives. The second reading of today’s Mass, from Philippians 1, has this statement: ‘that he who has begun the good work in you will bring it to completion’. When we say Amen to receiving and becoming the Body of Christ, God is truly advancing the good work He has begun! And we know that Christ has come, when we become ever more like Him.