Dear Brothers and Sisters,
This morning I have the
joy of celebrating my first Chrism Mass as the Bishop of Rome. I greet all of
you with affection, especially you, dear priests, who, like myself, today recall
the day of your ordination.
The readings and the Psalm of our Mass speak
of God’s “anointed ones”: the suffering Servant of Isaiah, King David and Jesus
our Lord. All three have this in common: the anointing that they receive is
meant in turn to anoint God’s faithful people, whose servants they are; they are
anointed for the poor, for prisoners, for the oppressed… A fine image of this
“being for” others can be found in the Psalm 133: “It is like the precious oil
upon the head, running down upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down
upon the collar of his robe” (v. 2). The image of spreading oil, flowing down
from the beard of Aaron upon the collar of his sacred robe, is an image of the
priestly anointing which, through Christ, the Anointed One, reaches the ends of
the earth, represented by the robe.
The sacred robes of the High Priest
are rich in symbolism. One such symbol is that the names of the children of
Israel were engraved on the onyx stones mounted on the shoulder-pieces of the
ephod, the ancestor of our present-day chasuble: six on the stone of the right
shoulder-piece and six on that of the left (cf. Ex 28:6-14). The names of the
twelve tribes of Israel were also engraved on the breastplate (cf. Es 28:21).
This means that the priest celebrates by carrying on his shoulders the people
entrusted to his care and bearing their names written in his heart. When we put
on our simple chasuble, it might well make us feel, upon our shoulders and in
our hearts, the burdens and the faces of our faithful people, our saints and
martyrs who are numerous in these times.
From the beauty of all these
liturgical things, which is not so much about trappings and fine fabrics than
about the glory of our God resplendent in his people, alive and strengthened, we
turn now to a consideration of activity, action. The precious oil which anoints
the head of Aaron does more than simply lend fragrance to his person; it
overflows down to “the edges”. The Lord will say this clearly: his anointing is
meant for the poor, prisoners and the sick, for those who are sorrowing and
alone. My dear brothers, the ointment is not intended just to make us fragrant,
much less to be kept in a jar, for then it would become rancid … and the heart
bitter.
A good priest can be recognized by the way his people are
anointed: this is a clear proof. When our people are anointed with the oil of
gladness, it is obvious: for example, when they leave Mass looking as if they
have heard good news. Our people like to hear the Gospel preached with
“unction”, they like it when the Gospel we preach touches their daily lives,
when it runs down like the oil of Aaron to the edges of reality, when it brings
light to moments of extreme darkness, to the “outskirts” where people of faith
are most exposed to the onslaught of those who want to tear down their faith.
People thank us because they feel that we have prayed over the realities of
their everyday lives, their troubles, their joys, their burdens and their hopes.
And when they feel that the fragrance of the Anointed One, of Christ, has come
to them through us, they feel encouraged to entrust to us everything they want
to bring before the Lord: “Pray for me, Father, because I have this problem”,
“Bless me Father”, “Pray for me” – these words are the sign that the anointing
has flowed down to the edges of the robe, for it has turned into a prayer of
supplication, the supplication of the People of God. When we have this
relationship with God and with his people, and grace passes through us, then we
are priests, mediators between God and men. What I want to emphasize is that we
need constantly to stir up God’s grace and perceive in every request, even those
requests that are inconvenient and at times purely material or downright banal –
but only apparently so – the desire of our people to be anointed with fragrant
oil, since they know that we have it. To perceive and to sense, even as the Lord
sensed the hope-filled anguish of the woman suffering from hemorrhages when she
touched the hem of his garment. At that moment, Jesus, surrounded by people on
every side, embodies all the beauty of Aaron vested in priestly raiment, with
the oil running down upon his robes. It is a hidden beauty, one which shines
forth only for those faith-filled eyes of the woman troubled with an issue of
blood. But not even the disciples – future priests – see or understand: on the
“existential outskirts”, they see only what is on the surface: the crowd
pressing in on Jesus from all sides (cf. Lk 8:42). The Lord, on the other hand,
feels the power of the divine anointing which runs down to the edge of his
cloak.
We need to “go out”, then, in order to experience our own
anointing, its power and its redemptive efficacy: to the “outskirts” where there
is suffering, bloodshed, blindness that longs for sight, and prisoners in thrall
to many evil masters. It is not in soul-searching or constant introspection that
we encounter the Lord: self-help courses can be useful in life, but to live our
priestly life going from one course to another, from one method to another,
leads us to become pelagians and to minimize the power of grace, which comes
alive and flourishes to the extent that we, in faith, go out and give ourselves
and the Gospel to others, giving what little ointment we have to those who have
nothing, nothing at all.
The priest who seldom goes out of himself, who
anoints little – I won’t say “not at all” because, thank God, the people take
the oil from us anyway – misses out on the best of our people, on what can stir
the depths of his priestly heart. Those who do not go out of themselves, instead
of being mediators, gradually become intermediaries, managers. We know the
difference: the intermediary, the manager, “has already received his reward”,
and since he doesn’t put his own skin and his own heart on the line, he never
hears a warm, heartfelt word of thanks. This is precisely the reason for the
dissatisfaction of some, who end up sad – sad priests - in some sense becoming
collectors of antiques or novelties, instead of being shepherds living with “the
odour of the sheep”. This I ask you: be shepherds, with the “odour of the
sheep”, make it real, as shepherds among your flock, fishers of men. True
enough, the so-called crisis of priestly identity threatens us all and adds to
the broader cultural crisis; but if we can resist its onslaught, we will be able
to put out in the name of the Lord and cast our nets. It is not a bad thing that
reality itself forces us to “put out into the deep”, where what we are by grace
is clearly seen as pure grace, out into the deep of the contemporary world,
where the only thing that counts is “unction” – not function – and the nets
which overflow with fish are those cast solely in the name of the One in whom we
have put our trust: Jesus.
Dear lay faithful, be close to your priests
with affection and with your prayers, that they may always be shepherds
according to God’s heart.
Dear priests, may God the Father renew in us
the Spirit of holiness with whom we have been anointed. May he renew his Spirit
in our hearts, that this anointing may spread to everyone, even to those
“outskirts” where our faithful people most look for it and most appreciate it.
May our people sense that we are the Lord’s disciples; may they feel that their
names are written upon our priestly vestments and that we seek no other
identity; and may they receive through our words and deeds the oil of gladness
which Jesus, the Anointed One, came to bring us. Amen.
The next Sunday several of us travelled to Mision Concepcion which is one of four missions that formed the early stages of what became San Antonio. The others are Mision San Jose, Mision San Juan and the Alamo (!) which was originally a mission. Mision Concepion was filled to capacity with a diverse crowd. Some were local parishioners and sopme were tourists. The music was by an ensemble that led us in bi-lingual song although the Mass was in English. The decor is very close to the original from the 1700's when the mission was founded. Very simple and quite beautiful. 
The next Sunday we went to San Fernando Cathedral for Mass. This is one of the oldest cathedrals in use in the country. The original church was begun by Portuguese immigrants and forms the front section of the church. Later another church was built that was attached to the old church. This later church is the primary seating area of the cathedral. In the old section are three beautiful retablos which are the Mexican version of the high altar. All three were quite stunning but the central one which houses the tabernacle is especially beautiful and is gilded with gold leaf. Unfortunately it is not wanting to upload but I will see what I can do in a later post.
