Happy St. John's Day

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eD0Bz5RrNRc

On the Feast of Stephen

Along with Good King Wenceslaus we are invited, on this feast of Stephen, to reflect on our diakonia, our service, to our sisters and brothers.  As one of the first deacons of the Church, St. Stephen becomes a model for the giving of oneself to others.

From today's office of readings:

Yesterday we celebrated the birth in time of our eternal King.  Today we celebrate the triumphant suffering of his soldier.  Yesterday our king, clothed in his robe of flesh, left his place in the virgin's womb and graciously visited the world.  Today his soldier leaves the tabernacle of his body and goes triumphantly to heaven.

Our king, despite his exalted majesty, came in humility for our sake; yet he did not come empty-handed.  He gave of his bounty, yet without any loss to himself.  In a marvelous way he changed into wealth the poverty of his faithful followers while remaining in full possession of his own inexhaustible riches.

And so the love that brought Christ from heaven to earth raised Stephen from earth to heaven; shown first in the king, it later shone forth in his soldier.  His love of God kept him from yielding to the ferocious mob; his love for his neighbor made him pray for those who were stoning him.  Love inspired him to reprove those who erred, to make them amend; love led him to pray for those who stoned him, to save them from punishment.

Love, indeed, is the source of all good things; it is an impregnable defense, and the way that leads to heaven.  He who walks in love can neither go astray nor be afraid:  love guides him, protects him, and brings him to his journey's end.

Christ made love the stairway that would enable all Christians to climb to heaven.  Hold fast to it, therefore, in all sincerity, give one another proctical proof of it, and by your progress in it, make your ascent together.

(Fulgentius)

Hodie Christus Natus Est

O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel, Rex et legifer noster, exspectatio gentium, et Salvator earum: veni ad salvandum nos Domine Deus noster.

O Emmanuel, God with us, our King and lawgiver, the expected of the nations and their Savior: come to save us, O Lord our God.

O Rex Gentium

O King of all the nations,
the only joy of every human heart;
O Keystone of the mighty arch of man,
come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.

O Radiant Dawn

O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death. O Come Emmanuel

O Clavis David

O Key of David, and Scepter of the House of Israel, who opens and no man shuts, who shuts and no man opens; Come and bring forth the captive from his prison, he who sits in darkness and in the shadow of death.

O Clavis David, et sceptrum domus Israël, qui aperis, et nemo claudit, claudis, et nemo aperuit: veni, et educ vinctum de domo carceris, sedentem in tenebris, et umbra mortis.

O Root of Jesse

O Root of Jesse, who stood as a sign for the people, before you kings shall remain silent, and to you the gentiles shall make supplication: come to deliver us, and delay not.

O Adonai

O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave im the holy law on Sianai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.

O Antiphons

"O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet gentle care.  Come and show your people the way to salvation." 

The “Seven Marian Antiphons” are a setting of the “O Antiphons” of the Roman Catholic liturgy which are short verses sung before the Magnificat for Evening Prayer of the seven days preceding the vigil of Christmas.  Called the “O Antiphons” because each begins with the interjection “O”, their opening words are: O Sapientia, O Adonai, O Radix Jesse, O Clavis David, O Oriens, O Rex Gentium, O Emmanuel.  Each is addressed to Christ under one of his Scriptural titles and each concludes with a petition to the coming Lord.  An interesting acrostic occurs when the first letter of each invocation is taken in reverse order: ERO CRAS.  The phrase spells out the response of Christ to the heartfelt prayer of his people:  “Tomorrow I will be there.”  In the ninth century, the antiphons were reworked into the familiar hymn: Veni, Veni, Emmanuel (O Come, O Come Emmanuel)

 Background information

The Divine Office (Liturgy of the Hours) is a collection of prayer services which take place at various times throughout the day.  The idea is the sanctification of all time.  Clerics in the Catholic Church make a promise to pray the hours at the time of their ordination. 

Prior to the reforms of the Second Vatican Council the Divine Office had a primarily monastic form.  The various hours of the day (e.g., Lauds, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, etc.) were solemnized by the chanting of psalms, the proclamation of Scripture, and the chanting of various Scriptural canticles.  Prayers for the needs of the Church and the world are included in some of the Hours.

In the Vatican II reforms, the Office was simplified for use by the diocesan clergy.  However, the structure was maintained: Invitatory, Hymn, Psalmody, Scripture, Responsory, Magnificat with its antiphon, Intercessions, The Lord’s Prayer and Concluding Prayer and Blessing.  Night Prayer also includes a concluding Marian Hymn (e.g., Salve Regina, Regina Coeli, Ave Maria).

The last several years have seen an increase in communal celebrations of the Liturgy of the Hours, especially Morning and Evening Prayer.  Many parishes offer Vespers to celebrate special occasions.  (In Winona, we celebrate Morning Prayer on the three days of the Paschal Triduum (Holy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday) on which Masses other than those prescribed for the Triduum are forbidden).  Parish vespers often follow a more ceremonial form of the Office which is rooted in the Cathedral Vespers of ancient times.  This often includes an opening light ceremony (Lucenarium) and thanksgiving for the light and the use of incense and more formal vestments.

May they rest in peace

For those killed at Newtown, Connecticut.  The beautiful Lux aeterna by Nadia Boulanger.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eh6oPghFnt0

Gaudete Sunday

Gaudete in a time of sadness.  My homily for the Third Sunday of Advent.

On Friday, as I made my way to St. Cloud to take my mother Christmas shopping (don’t all you mothers wish you had a son like me?) I began to hear the reports of the tragic school shooting in Newtown, Connecticut.  I realized rather quickly that my original homily, focused as it was on the call to rejoice would not be quite right in the aftermath of such violence and loss of innocent life. 

            And yet we have these beautiful readings which call us to rejoice – even when we may not feel like rejoicing.  Even when our feelings may be more in line with a short Latin poem that a friend of mine composed:  Nocte fletuum angelis./Mundi frangitur./Vocis voces in caelis/Clamant malum lucem extinguitur.  Translated into English it means: Night of weeping angels./The world is shattered./Resounding voices in heaven/Cry out: Evil has extinguished the light.  It easy, in the face of such horror to feel that evil is triumphant and that the light has been extinguished.  So what can we say?  How should we respond? And what is God saying to us today through our Scriptures?

            St. Paul wrote his letter to the Philippians, the source of today’s second reading from prison.  One would not think this would be an occasion for rejoicing.  And yet, not only does Paul encourage us to rejoice, he wants us to rejoice in the Lord always, and then he says, “again I say, rejoice.”  Where did Paul, in the midst of his suffering and trial, get the urge to rejoice?  It comes in the next sentence:  The Lord is near.  For Paul, who was expecting the Lord’s return in short order, the fact that the Lord was near overcame the sufferings of the present and infused his heart with joy. 

            What about the prophesy of Zephaniah that contains our first reading – that exhilarating call to rejoicing that seems so full of hope and excitement and which is set so stunningly  by Handel in his “Messiah?”  Zephaniah’s times were not easy.  The kingdom to which his prophesy is addressed had fallen into complete moral and spiritual decay.  The king had entered into an alliance with the Assyrians which included acceptance of their gods.  So Zephaniah is faced with rulers who act like foreigners.  He could see the fraud, violence and complacency that accompanied the disintegration of the political leadership.   Added to the political turmoil was an increasing belief among the people that God was powerless to act.  That their situation in life had become permanent. 

            When we read the entirety of Zephaniah’s prophesy we encounter his catalogue of accusations against the rulers of his day.  And then he ends his prophesy with the bold call to rejoice and shout for joy.  Why?  Because the Lord is in their midst and he comes to bring them forgiveness and comfort.  In other words, the dire situation in which they live is not the end of the story – that God can and will act on behalf of the people.

            That is the message for us on this Gaudete Sunday (the Sunday of rejoicing) as we face yet another senseless act of violence.  That we are not alone, that the light is not extinguished, that our God is with us.  That is the constant theme of this Advent and Christmas season – that our God has come to us with salvation, forgiveness and strength.  That is the message of the Advent wreath whose candles we light one by one.  That is the message of the Scripture and song that we share during these weeks when not only do the nights seem long and cold but tragedy, once again, visits our land.

            In the aftermath of the shootings at Columbine, Archbishop Charles Chaput, who was then the Archbishop of Denver wrote to his people of his feelings and experience in the wake of that tragedy.  He writes:  “The impact of what happened this past week in Littleton, however, didn't fully strike home in my heart until the morning after the murders, when I visited a large prayer gathering of students from Columbine High School, and spent time with the families of two of the students who died. They taught me something.  The students who gathered to pray and comfort each other showed me again the importance of sharing not just our sorrow, but our hope. God created us to witness His love to each other, and we draw our life from the friendship, the mercy and the kindness we offer to others in pain. The young Columbine students I listened to, spoke individually -- one by one -- of the need to be strong, to keep alive hope in the future, and to turn away from violence. Despite all their confusion and all their hurt, they would not despair. I think I understand why. We're creatures of life. This is the way God made us: to assert life in the face of death.”

            In our Gospel, John the Baptist responds to the questions of those who came to him about how they should order their lives.  He gives each group some rather practical advice.  Archbishop Chaput did the same:  “We need to change. But societies only change when families change, and families only change when individuals change. Without a conversion to humility, non-violence and selflessness in our own hearts, all our talk about "ending the violence" may end as pious generalities. It is not enough to speak about reforming our society and community. We need to reform ourselves.”

            And so, what I learned from the Scriptures is that rejoicing is necessary to hope.  That in the darkness and the violence we need not a giddy, superficial joy but a deep down recognition that God has not abandoned us, that God, in fact, grieves with us – he too, lost a Son in an act of violence and hatred.  I learned that in the midst of darkness there is light – the light of the resilience of the human spirit, but even more the light of Christ whose presence among us we are preparing to celebrate.  I learned that when the evil seems to have extinguished the light that I need to rejoice even more.

Happy St. Juan de la Cruz Day

"In the evening of life we will be judged on love alone"

Santa Lucia

From Thomas Merton:

Lucy, whose day is on our darkest season,
(Althought your name is full of light,)
We walkers in the murk and rain of flesh and sense,
Lost in the midnight of our dead world's winter solstice
Look for the fogs to open on your friendly star.

We have long since cut down the summer of history;
Our cheerful towns have all gone out
    like fireflies in October.
The fields are flooded and the vine is bare:
How have our long days dwindled,
    now the world is frozen!

Locked in the cold jails of our stubborn will,
Oh hear the shovels growling in the gravel.
This is the way they'll make our beds for ever,
Ours, whose Decembers have put out the sun:
Doors of whose souls are shut against the summertime!

Martyr, whose short day sees our winter and our Calvary,
Show us some light, who seem forsaken by the sky:
We have so dwelt in darkness that our eyes are screened
    and dim,
And all but blinded by the weakest ray.

Hallow the vespers and December of our life,
    O martyred Lucy:
Console our solstice with your friendly day.

Our Lady of Guadalupe

From the blog of Bishop Flores of Brownsville, Texas:

These are intense days of devotion and prayer in the United States, and certainly here in the Rio Grande Valley. On December the 8, we celebrated the Immaculate Conception, Patronal Feast of our Cathedral here in the Diocese of Brownsville, and since 1847, patroness of the United States. And yet four days later, on December 12 we celebrate the great feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, Patroness of the Americas. The two feasts are deeply connected in the mystery of faith. On December the 8 we recall the truth that God chooses to give the full gift of grace on his own initiative, to prepare Mary from the first moment of her conception for her mission. On December 12, we are given a vivid reminder of what that mission entails. The Virgin's presence announces that the Lord is coming to be with his people, to free us from death, darkness and sin.

On December 12, I wish I could be everywhere at once in the Rio Grande Valley; the processions, the Masses in all the parishes, in small mission chapels, and at the Basilica; las Mañanitas, the menudo and hojarascas-- it's everwhere. And it is for everyone: families, the elderly, small children in costumes; laughing, singing, high school students playing in mariachi bands, fireworks. It is joyous, reverent and a full display of the mystery of faith alive in our land. This feast is a singular grace for our diocese and our nation, worthy of a special place in the hearts of all Catholics in the United States.

There are so many reasons for this exuberance. And yet in the end they are all one simple reason keenly felt by all of us who celebrate her day. The Virgin, in her very person, -- because her person bears the Son of God-- appears in 1531 as the gentle voice announcing to a good but labored soul that heaven is kind and very close, and that the darkness will not have its way forever. There was much blood spilled in the Americas both prior to the arrival of the Spanish Empire, and after. Human sacrifice gave way to a conquest that was in many ways brutal. It was hard in those days to believe in the triumph of light over darkness, mercy over vengeance, reconciliation over recrimination. But somehow, in the Virgin's appearing, in the image of the innocent one already bearing the Son of God in her womb, the announcement of mercy went forth and was joyfully received.

This is the cause of our joy: God has appeared in our land; he has taken flesh from the Virgin; and we need not fear that the darkness will in the end prevail. She comes as the breeze that announces that the springtime of the human race is possible by the grace of God's favor. The Gospel brings this springtime, and for us in the Americas, Our Lady left us the Gospel written as an image on Juan Diego's tilma. The Gospel was the hope of the peoples of the Americas when the Virgin appeared, and it is the hope of our future as a people. There is urgent need for this hope. We in the Valley know too well that much blood is spilled senselessly for power, greed, vengeance, and drugs. A new sort of cult of death menaces our children. Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the Christ she bears forth to our world show us the way out of this encroaching despair.

Perhaps it is time to designate Our Lady of Guadalupe as Co-patroness of the United States. Most recently I read a post by Cardinal Mahony encouraging this prospect: http://cardinalrogermahonyblogsla.blogspot.com/2012/12/our-lady-of-guadalupe-patroness-of-usa.html. Together with the Immaculate Conception on December 8, and Our Lady of Guadalupe on December 12, we could as Catholics in the United States renew our appreciation for the way grace works in us by contemplating the Mother of God under these two magnificent invocations. For us also, grace is given by God's wise design to both make us holy, and to send us forth to announce that the long reign of sin is ending. The one follows upon the other. There is no evangelization without holiness; and grace is given so as to be shared with a world that dwells in darkness and under the shadow of death.

Our Lady Conceived without sin, pray for us that no sin impede our reception of your Son into our lives!

Our Lady of Guadalupe, pray that having received him, we be worthy bearers of your Son to others!

Happy St. Damasus Day

Today is the Feast of St. Damasus.  His election took place in chaos betweeen competing factions within the Roman Church.  His 18 year reign saw some significant changes in the life of the Church.  Among his "claims to fame" is his invitation to St. Jerome to translate the scriptures from Greek to Latin.  It was also during his reign that the canon of the Bible was established.

He was instrumental in translating the liturgy from Greek to Latin which had become the common language of the people. 

He fought against heresies.

He promoted veneration of them martyrs including composing epigrams to decorate their tombs.

He wrote the following for his own tomb:

"He who, walking on the sea, could calm the bitter waves,
who gives life to the dying seeds of the earth;
He who was able to loose the mortal chains of death, ...

and after three days' darkness
could bring again to the upper world
the brother for his sister Martha:
He, I believe, will make Damasus rise again from the dust."

 

All in all he was a "good shepherd" and today we heard the parable of the shepherd who goes after the lost sheep.  An appropriate Gospel for the day.

Being a Friend

There are many resources to help guide our Advent reflections.  Among them is the popular "Magnificat" magazine.  In the special Advent issue, Heather King offers the following reflection on today's Gospel about the curing of the paralyzed man.

"The forgiveness of sins, the parable of the paralytic at Capernaum tells us. is deeply connected to physical healing.  What most needs healing, the parable tell us, is the sense of guilt that drives our actions, choices, and relationships.  But maybe what the parable really tells us is how to be a friend.  Christ always seems especially partial to those who are willing to risk ridicule in a crowd.  Here, the inventive friends are so intent on the healing of their paralytic pal that they clamber up to the roof, perhaps against his protestations -- "Come on, fellas, people are gonna think we're crazy!" -- and lower him down.  It's thus the friends, with their bold, confident trust in Christ, who are the real stars of the story.  It's the friends to whom Christ says, "As for you, your sins are forgiven."  He goes on to heal the paralytic physically, but the deeper miracle has already occurred.  How often we assure a troubled friend, "I'll pray for you," then go about our business.  How often we are stopped from true prayer by the "derisive crowd" in our own mind.  To love one another as Christ loved us is to grab hold of our friend's stretcher, climb on the roof, and say, "Jesus, here, over here!  My friend has been stuck in pain for so long!  Please help."

St. Juan Diego Cuauhtlatoatzin

Although it is not celebrated this year because it falls on the Second Sunday of Advent today is the feast of St. Juan Diego to whom Mary appeared as Our Lady of Guadalupe.

The Collect for the feast:

O God, who by means of Saint Juan Diego
showed the love of the most holy Virgin Mary for your people,
grant, through his intercession,
that, by following the counsels our Mother gave at Guadalupe,
we may be ever constant in fulfilling your will.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, forever and ever.  Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent

From "The Deacon's Bench" blog. A homily for the Second Sunday of Advent.

This past Wednesday, the music world lost a giant: jazz legend Dave Brubeck. He died the day before his 92nd birthday. If you read his obituary in the New York Times, you learned that he was the first jazz artist to sell a million records; that he was only the second one, after Louis Armstrong, to make the cover of TIME magazine; and that his recordings and performances were treasured by millions around the world.

What you would not have learned about, though, was his faith. Somehow, the newspapers left that out. The fact is: late in life, Dave Brubeck became a Catholic. He didn’t like to call himself a convert, since you have to have something to convert FROM, and he had no real belief for much of his life. But at a particular moment in his life, this man who gave so many so much to hear, heard something himself. And it changed everything.

It began a little over 30 years ago, when Brubeck was commissioned to write a Mass. Not just any Mass. A jazz Mass, using all the musical tools he had mastered. Though his background was Protestant, he thought it would be an interesting challenge. He worked on it for a few months and after it was completed, and had its first performance, a priest told him how much he loved the music. But the priest said that he was puzzled because it didn’t include the Our Father.

Brubeck didn’t realize the oversight, but said he’d already completed the composition and didn’t want to disrupt the musical flow by writing something new. So he decided to just let it go. But a few days later, while on vacation with his family, Brubeck awoke in the middle of the night, astonished. Music was swimming in his head. The entire Our Father had come to him in a dream, complete with orchestra and chorus. He climbed out of bed, made his way to a desk, and wrote it all out. As he told an interviewer years later:

“Because of this event I decided that I might as well join the Catholic Church because someone somewhere was pulling me toward that end.” He was baptized in 1980.

Advent reminds us: we are all being “pulled toward that end,” all of us are being drawn to God. We are being called—called to follow, called to change. Called, like Dave Brubeck, to hear something new.

John the Baptist today gives us a powerful example.

“The word of God came to John in the desert,” Luke wrote. “John went throughout the whole region of the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins…”

Like Dave Brubeck, John heard. He listened. And he couldn’t keep it to himself. He shared it with the world.

This is a gospel, in part, about keeping our ears and hearts open to the word of God, and then responding.

Dave Brubeck heard music. So, in his way, did John the Baptist.

A popular song this time of year asks us, “Do you hear what I hear?” This second Sunday of Advent, we might ask ourselves: what are we hearing? There’s so much battling for our attention—I don’t need to list it for you. Just turn on the computer or visit the shopping mall.

But some of it is within ourselves. The noise of our own self-interest, the clamor of our sin. Sometimes we can’t hear because we are so busy listening to ourselves.

Advent says: hush. Listen. Do you hear what I hear? The word of God is coming to us. The word that is His gospel – and the Word that is His Son.

Which is why this season is so important: we need to make ourselves ready to receive what God is offering. John cries out, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” Make low the high mountains of our pride. Straighten the crooked roads of ego and selfishness. Fill the valleys of our despair or fear.

The call of Advent is a call to conversion. It proclaims the path to a different way of living. It points us toward a star, and a manger—and beyond that, to the cross.

But it points, ultimately, to our salvation, and to a hope that will never die.

Dave Brubeck gave his unique jazz Mass a name. He called it: “To Hope.” This time of year, in between office parties and family reunions, we might think of that as a toast –to health, to happiness, to prosperity, to hope. But it is also a verb. “To hope” is the Christian way of living.

In the vocabulary of this season, it is all that and more. It is a direction. Advent calls us to follow that direction. Look for the signs. Listen. The word of God is pointing the way:

To life.

To salvation.

And yes: to hope.

The Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception

An anonymous 13th century poet wrote this beautiful "Hymn to the Virgin." It was famously set to music by Benjamin Britten when he was only 16 years old and it remains one of his most accomplished works.

Of one that is so fair and bright Velut maris stella [like the star of the sea],
Brighter than the day is light, Parens et puella: [mother and girl]
I cry to thee, thou see to me, Lady, pray thy Son for me, Tam pia, [how holy]
That I might come to thee Maria.

All this world was forlorn Eva peccatrice [Eve, the sinner],
Till our Lord was y-born De te genetrice [from you was born]
With ave it went away Darkest night and comes the day Salutis [health];
The well springeth out of thee, Virtutis [virtue].

Lady, flower of everything, Rose sine spina [rose without thorns],
Thou bear Jesu, heavens king, Gratia divina [by divine grace]:
Of all thou bearst the prize, Lady, queen of paradise Electa [chosen]:
Maid mild, mother es Effecta [it is accomplished].

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YxGReDqUWw

Happy St. Nicholas Day a day late

St. Nicholas is a favorite of many in the early part of the Advent season.  Many legends and traditions have grown up around this saint.  In my home while growing up St. Nicholas would appear on the evening of December 6 and bring us fruit, nuts and candy.  It was always an exciting day.

When I was in seminary there were a number of Byzantine rite students living at the North American College.  St. Nicholas Day was always a special celebration.  Those of us willing to attend Divine Liturgy were also invited to the grand dinner afterward.  At the dinner there was a special song we sang to St. Nicholas.  I have the words around somewhere but even when I can't find them I hum it as part of my own personal celebration.

Happy St. Ambrose Day



Today we remember St Ambrose of Milan (340? - 397), Bishop and Doctor.- He was born in Trier (now in Germany) between 337 and 340, to a Roman family: his father was praetorian prefect of Gaul. Ambrose was educated at Rome In about 372 he was made prefect of Liguria and Emilia, whose capital was Milan.

In 374 the bishopric of Milan fell vacant and when Ambrose tried to pacify the conflict between the Catholics and Arians over the appointment of a new bishop, the people turned on him and demanded that he become the bishop himself. He immediately gave his money to the poor and his land to the Church He was assiduous in carrying out his office, acting with charity to all: a true shepherd and teacher of the faithful. He defended the rights of the Church and attacked the Arian heresy with learning, firmness and gentleness. He also wrote a number of hymns which are still in use today.

Ambrose was a key figure in the conversion of St Augustine to Catholicism, impressing Augustine (hitherto unimpressed by the Catholics he had met) by his intelligence and scholarship.

(from the Doylesford Norbertine website)

In the liturgical life of the Church there are several rites which celebrate the liturgy in ways different from the Roman Rite.  One of these is the Ambrosian Rite which is centered in the Archdiocese of Milan.  The structure of the Mass is very similar to that of the Roman Rite but has a body of chant that is unique and beautiful.