Hello, readers! I know a lot of you out there have theology degrees (or the research-on-your-own equivalent), so I wanted to get your input on a talk I'm giving the day after tomorrow. I feel woefully underprepared timewise, and tonight is my last chance to work on it. I'm sure this outline will change some after I chat with Dr Bergsma, but here's what I've got:
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to effectively paste or embed the document on the page, so you've got to follow this link to access it. Thanks!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
On Juggling Life, and a Question for You
My apologies for neglect of the blog this past week. I haven't yet figured out how to balance meetings and social outings with blogging. But it's not for lack of topics like my last (much longer) hiatus. There are at least three posts in my head just waiting to be poured out.
A note to my readers who have their own blogs/websites: In the future, when I mention you here, I'd like to link to your blog/site. Is this okay by you (I'll take no response as a yes)? If you have more than one such site, to which one should I link (i.e., which is primary)?
A note to my readers who have their own blogs/websites: In the future, when I mention you here, I'd like to link to your blog/site. Is this okay by you (I'll take no response as a yes)? If you have more than one such site, to which one should I link (i.e., which is primary)?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
On the Triduum: Part Two
My memory has already faded significantly as regards the details of these liturgies. My apologies.
Good Friday
Father came out in simply a black stole over his cassock and surplice. It was dramatic in its utter simplicity. The altar was, as you remember from Thursday, completely bare, though the servers set it very simply (just a cloth, and /maybe/ two candles). Before the Veneration of the Cross, he changed into a black cope, which was just stunning. I've never seen a black cope before, but the wide expanse of black fabric seemed so right for a day of great mourning. He changed into a purple chasuble before he retrieved the Blessed Sacrament, which should provide interesting food for thought because the chasuble is a vestment for Mass, and the Good Friday Liturgy is definitively not a Mass.
It's not that the vestments were the only thing I paid attention to. They just really caught my eye because the changes were noticeable and significant, and I couldn't catch every detail because of paying attention to the music I was half-sightsinging, so they're one of the things I recall best.
Anyway, the Veneration of the Cross took forever but was pretty sweet (also the fact that we finished our hymn in time to run downstairs and venerate the cross ourselves was a nice gift). Father made a triple genuflection before veneration, then the servers did the same (or so I've been told. Singing and all that.), then the servers came and held the cross over the Prie-Dieu, after which the congregants processed up individually, genuflected, and kissed (usually the feet) of the crucifix, on their knees.
There was just so much silence. At many moments there was no prescribed chant; we were to be simply silent despite the fact that all it left the congregation to do was watch the priest (and possibly to wonder what he would do next). There were just so many moments of watchful silence. Watch and pray, I suppose.
Easter Vigil
Remember what I said in the last post about mine being a small parish with almost a provincial feel? I have never before been in a church at which the entire congregation assembled outside in the dark (and cold) around the Easter fire. It was so cool! We were just standing there, crowded around the fire, waiting. Waiting. Finally, Father (in violet cope) came from around the side, preceded by the servers, and blessed the fire. I couldn't hear (nor, of course, could I see) what exactly he was saying, but it seemed pretty much like what I'm used to in the novus ordo. I had a distinct feeling as he was praying whatever mysterious words that it was as if time had begun anew that very night, and he was blessing and consecrating the coming year to the Lord.
The servers had trouble lighting the Paschal Candle from the Easter fire (like, it took probably three minutes, including a trip inside back to the sacristy for a new candle by which to bring the flame to the Paschal Candle!), which gave me a lot of time to reflect upon it. I considered that, even if it be rubrically perfect, our earthly liturgy will never be quite perfect. It's a taste of heaven, the best we can get down here, but it's okay for things like this to go wrong. It shows us that the Lord still comes, still does things as He wills, no matter how much we screw things up. What a change from our "We have to do everything we can to make this as flawless as possible!" mindset on Liturgy Committee! (Not that that was bad - I'm just at a different place, and in a different position.)
We all knelt for the Lumen Christi, which was cool. I did, however, miss the congregational candles of the novus ordo and the gradual lighting of the Fieldhouse - after the third Lumen Christi, the lights just kind of all came on, at which point I chuckled to myself.
Then Father proclaimed the Exsultet at the ambo, facing North. It sounded like the familiar tone that's lasted to the novus ordo, which I found comforting. The ability to read a prosaic translation of this beautiful poem and to meditate upon it while it was being sung felt like such a luxury! I mean, the Exsultet is such a beautiful prayer, and you don't want to miss a word of it - and I really feel like I didn't this year! My favorite moment during the chanting of the Exsultet (take a guess!) was when Father stepped back from the ambo and I realized he was wearing not a white chasuble but a white dalmatic - the Mass garment of the deacon! I just love the fact that different clergy have specific roles to play, and those roles are clearly filled in that way (instead of just "Oh, here you can do this now").
Then he changed back into the violet cope and chanted the four prophecies. In a way, it was strange, because I've become accustomed to having so many more readings at the Vigil, but in another way it was enough, particularly since each Prophecy was significantly longer than a regular Lesson is, and there were four of them to the usual one Lesson. Perhaps I was just absorbed in praying those Scriptures, but it was enough. (You must understand, this was the part about which I feared I'd be terribly upset, but it was okay.) It's also just darn awesome that the second and fourth Prophecies flowed right into the tracts that followed them (i.e., "and they sang:""Cantemus Domino..."). :)
Then we sang half of the Litany of the Saints (stopping at "Omnes sanctes", the catch-all for the saints not mentioned), after which came the Renewal of Baptismal Promises. (Unfortunately, we had no catechumens, so the baptismal font was neither blessed nor exorcized, and the aforementioned renewal was all we got along those lines.) It's generally done in the vernacular, but the Institute is awesome and they still do it in Latin, which I enjoyed. I love the continuity with the creed.
(Interesting tangent: In the present English translation of the novus ordo, the Credo is rendered "We believe", but the Abrenuntiamus and Credimus of the Renewal of Baptismal Promises is rendered "I do." What's going on with our pronouns?)
After that, we finished the Litany, then went into the Kyrie and Gloria. (At some point around here, Father changed into a full set of white Mass vestments.) During the Gloria, the servers redressed the altar with candles and flowers, and unveiled the statues and images that'd been covered throughout the church. It was really beautiful to see that, particularly after they'd been hidden for two weeks! It's funny in comparison to Steubenville (and I remember the debates well), because there it seemed so showy, and perhaps part of that was stylistic in the manner of redressing the altar, and perhaps part of the major difference was that it was laypeople, not servers, who brought up the flowers and whatnot. But I think the biggest factors are: 1) The flowers at Steubenville principally decorated the area around the altar, whereas those in West Orange decorated the altar itself (the higher levels of the high altar and such, which isn't an option out there), and 2) The images being uncovered is such an integral part of that bit of the rite, and the Fieldhouse isn't a chapel, so there really aren't images to cover! (Yes, I remember unveiling the cross and all that. But even that is hardly the same.)
From there Mass proceeded pretty much as usual until after Communion, at which point we chanted an abbreviated form of Lauds - which was really cool especially in light of how the prophecies and the vigil nature of the early bits of the Liturgy were totally based on the Divine Office as well. It was just a very nice way to round things out.
Overall Response
I liked my first traditional Triduum very much, and cannot imagine a better place to have been following two years on Liturgy Committee in Steubenville. But on the whole, it really wasn't as different as one might expect. Admittedly, I'm coming at this with a much greater knowledge of the Triduum liturgies than the average Catholic, but even so I would make the analogy as follows:
'62 Triduum : '70 Triduum :: '62 Sunday Mass : '70 Sunday Mass
It was lovely, and I am glad they asked me to sing in the choir. Too, I was so blessed to have wonderful friends visit me and the parish, who seem to have loved things just about as much as I did. And we got to celebrate the season with a midnight diner run! Woot!
* * *
WesoĊego Alleluja, my friends (literally, blessed alleluia). Thank you for reading, and know that you were in my prayers during these beautiful aforementioned liturgies. Christ is arisen!
Good Friday
Father came out in simply a black stole over his cassock and surplice. It was dramatic in its utter simplicity. The altar was, as you remember from Thursday, completely bare, though the servers set it very simply (just a cloth, and /maybe/ two candles). Before the Veneration of the Cross, he changed into a black cope, which was just stunning. I've never seen a black cope before, but the wide expanse of black fabric seemed so right for a day of great mourning. He changed into a purple chasuble before he retrieved the Blessed Sacrament, which should provide interesting food for thought because the chasuble is a vestment for Mass, and the Good Friday Liturgy is definitively not a Mass.
It's not that the vestments were the only thing I paid attention to. They just really caught my eye because the changes were noticeable and significant, and I couldn't catch every detail because of paying attention to the music I was half-sightsinging, so they're one of the things I recall best.
Anyway, the Veneration of the Cross took forever but was pretty sweet (also the fact that we finished our hymn in time to run downstairs and venerate the cross ourselves was a nice gift). Father made a triple genuflection before veneration, then the servers did the same (or so I've been told. Singing and all that.), then the servers came and held the cross over the Prie-Dieu, after which the congregants processed up individually, genuflected, and kissed (usually the feet) of the crucifix, on their knees.
There was just so much silence. At many moments there was no prescribed chant; we were to be simply silent despite the fact that all it left the congregation to do was watch the priest (and possibly to wonder what he would do next). There were just so many moments of watchful silence. Watch and pray, I suppose.
Easter Vigil
Remember what I said in the last post about mine being a small parish with almost a provincial feel? I have never before been in a church at which the entire congregation assembled outside in the dark (and cold) around the Easter fire. It was so cool! We were just standing there, crowded around the fire, waiting. Waiting. Finally, Father (in violet cope) came from around the side, preceded by the servers, and blessed the fire. I couldn't hear (nor, of course, could I see) what exactly he was saying, but it seemed pretty much like what I'm used to in the novus ordo. I had a distinct feeling as he was praying whatever mysterious words that it was as if time had begun anew that very night, and he was blessing and consecrating the coming year to the Lord.
The servers had trouble lighting the Paschal Candle from the Easter fire (like, it took probably three minutes, including a trip inside back to the sacristy for a new candle by which to bring the flame to the Paschal Candle!), which gave me a lot of time to reflect upon it. I considered that, even if it be rubrically perfect, our earthly liturgy will never be quite perfect. It's a taste of heaven, the best we can get down here, but it's okay for things like this to go wrong. It shows us that the Lord still comes, still does things as He wills, no matter how much we screw things up. What a change from our "We have to do everything we can to make this as flawless as possible!" mindset on Liturgy Committee! (Not that that was bad - I'm just at a different place, and in a different position.)
We all knelt for the Lumen Christi, which was cool. I did, however, miss the congregational candles of the novus ordo and the gradual lighting of the Fieldhouse - after the third Lumen Christi, the lights just kind of all came on, at which point I chuckled to myself.
Then Father proclaimed the Exsultet at the ambo, facing North. It sounded like the familiar tone that's lasted to the novus ordo, which I found comforting. The ability to read a prosaic translation of this beautiful poem and to meditate upon it while it was being sung felt like such a luxury! I mean, the Exsultet is such a beautiful prayer, and you don't want to miss a word of it - and I really feel like I didn't this year! My favorite moment during the chanting of the Exsultet (take a guess!) was when Father stepped back from the ambo and I realized he was wearing not a white chasuble but a white dalmatic - the Mass garment of the deacon! I just love the fact that different clergy have specific roles to play, and those roles are clearly filled in that way (instead of just "Oh, here you can do this now").
Then he changed back into the violet cope and chanted the four prophecies. In a way, it was strange, because I've become accustomed to having so many more readings at the Vigil, but in another way it was enough, particularly since each Prophecy was significantly longer than a regular Lesson is, and there were four of them to the usual one Lesson. Perhaps I was just absorbed in praying those Scriptures, but it was enough. (You must understand, this was the part about which I feared I'd be terribly upset, but it was okay.) It's also just darn awesome that the second and fourth Prophecies flowed right into the tracts that followed them (i.e., "and they sang:"
Then we sang half of the Litany of the Saints (stopping at "Omnes sanctes", the catch-all for the saints not mentioned), after which came the Renewal of Baptismal Promises. (Unfortunately, we had no catechumens, so the baptismal font was neither blessed nor exorcized, and the aforementioned renewal was all we got along those lines.) It's generally done in the vernacular, but the Institute is awesome and they still do it in Latin, which I enjoyed. I love the continuity with the creed.
(Interesting tangent: In the present English translation of the novus ordo, the Credo is rendered "We believe", but the Abrenuntiamus and Credimus of the Renewal of Baptismal Promises is rendered "I do." What's going on with our pronouns?)
After that, we finished the Litany, then went into the Kyrie and Gloria. (At some point around here, Father changed into a full set of white Mass vestments.) During the Gloria, the servers redressed the altar with candles and flowers, and unveiled the statues and images that'd been covered throughout the church. It was really beautiful to see that, particularly after they'd been hidden for two weeks! It's funny in comparison to Steubenville (and I remember the debates well), because there it seemed so showy, and perhaps part of that was stylistic in the manner of redressing the altar, and perhaps part of the major difference was that it was laypeople, not servers, who brought up the flowers and whatnot. But I think the biggest factors are: 1) The flowers at Steubenville principally decorated the area around the altar, whereas those in West Orange decorated the altar itself (the higher levels of the high altar and such, which isn't an option out there), and 2) The images being uncovered is such an integral part of that bit of the rite, and the Fieldhouse isn't a chapel, so there really aren't images to cover! (Yes, I remember unveiling the cross and all that. But even that is hardly the same.)
From there Mass proceeded pretty much as usual until after Communion, at which point we chanted an abbreviated form of Lauds - which was really cool especially in light of how the prophecies and the vigil nature of the early bits of the Liturgy were totally based on the Divine Office as well. It was just a very nice way to round things out.
Overall Response
I liked my first traditional Triduum very much, and cannot imagine a better place to have been following two years on Liturgy Committee in Steubenville. But on the whole, it really wasn't as different as one might expect. Admittedly, I'm coming at this with a much greater knowledge of the Triduum liturgies than the average Catholic, but even so I would make the analogy as follows:
'62 Triduum : '70 Triduum :: '62 Sunday Mass : '70 Sunday Mass
It was lovely, and I am glad they asked me to sing in the choir. Too, I was so blessed to have wonderful friends visit me and the parish, who seem to have loved things just about as much as I did. And we got to celebrate the season with a midnight diner run! Woot!
* * *
WesoĊego Alleluja, my friends (literally, blessed alleluia). Thank you for reading, and know that you were in my prayers during these beautiful aforementioned liturgies. Christ is arisen!
On Cherished Friends
A joy-filled thank you to each of the four gentlemen with whom I conversed yesterday evening (you know who you are). Any one of those conversations would have been enough to make my day; having four successive (and successively longer) conversations with gentlemen so dear to my heart was an unspeakably great gift from the Lord. It truly is Easter Day!
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
On the Triduum: Part One
Background
(Translation: If you're pressed for time / lazy you can probably skip this part and miss little. I just want to write it.)
I have attended Triduum liturgies at four places in my life:
1) St. Joseph Parish, Carteret, NJ - My home parish (i.e., I grew up there). Have attended Triduum there for about as long as I can remember through freshman year of college, inclusive. Sang in the choir for three Triduums (including freshman year of college).
2) Christ the King Parish, Ann Arbor, MI - Home parish of many of my good friends from college. The Catholic parish that grew out of the incredible ecumenical charismatic community in A2. Just one Triduum.
3) Franciscan University of Steubenville, Steubenville, OH - Liturgy Committee. For two Triduums I was part of the crew that ran everything behind the scenes. We learned those liturgies inside and out; I exaggerate not when I say we were quizzed on details such as "What happens immediately following the baptism of the catechumen at the Easter Vigil?"
4) St. Anthony of Padua Oratory, West Orange, NJ - My present parish. Run by the Institute of Christ the King, Sovereign Priest. Traditional Latin Mass only. This year was my first Triduum there (and yes, I was in the choir loft).
On My Parish
St. Anthony's, though canonically an Oratory (thank you Archbishop Myers!), is just a small parish chapel. In recent years (i.e., during college) I became used to large, specialized places of worship - the campus chapel in Steubenville, the Pittsburgh Latin Mass Community, Christ the King in Ann Arbor. I knew that I'd kind of outgrown my home parish (a topic for another time), but after being accustomed to such large-scale Ecclesial moments, in which it's easy to pull out all the stops for special occasions and be selective enough to do things perfectly, it was a bit of a switch to find my home at a place where there are about five choir members, and the altar servers are pretty much the same every week (give or take one or two), and not everything is as perfect as it could possibly be. I guess it's analogous to moving to a small town after loving living in a big city: it's not exactly where I imagined myself being, but I am home here, and I've grown to love it. Besides, this is more typical than the big city anyway. I can be a normal person for a change.
Holy Thursday
We finished choir rehearsal early, and as I was sitting in a back pew reading about the day's liturgy in Pius Parsch's Year of Grace, I noticed a cassocked leg walk past me. Wondering whether it was one of our two priests or a server, I glanced up - and was shocked to discover Msgr. Schmitz, Vicar General of the Institute and Provincial for the US! You must understand, this man is one of my favorite priests ever, and it was a shock and a delight to discover him there. Because that meant two things: 1) A Schmitz homily and 2) Solemn Mass.
I'm unaccustomed to Solemn Mass, as we only have two priests (I've probably only been to half a dozen Solemn Masses), which is a shame because Solemn Mass is the way the Liturgy is supposed to be, the proverbial yardstick by which one measures the Liturgy. High Mass and Low Mass are what you do when Solemn Mass isn't a reasonable option. Anyway: what this means is that I got to experience Holy Thursday in all its glory. I don't recall much that stood out to me as particular or different any more so than any Sunday Mass (save that the Mandatum, or Washing of the Feet, is optional), until the very end.
After the procession with the Blessed Sacrament to the altar of repose, the clergy (priest, deacon, and subdeacon) processed to the sacristy (in silence. The Triduum has a lot of silence.) and returned a moment later in different vestments (the Triduum has a lot of costume changes, too): where they had been fully vested in white, now they were vested in violet - stoles for the priest and deacon, and maniple for the subdeacon. The three of them (assisted a bit by the servers, but they mostly only moved flowers) stripped the altar.
When I say they stripped the altar, I mean that it had looked like a pretty normal feast day altar, but by the time they were done with it, gone were the flowers, the altar cloths, the candles - even the tabernacle veil! There was just the stark wood of the altar, with the unveiled open tabernacle. Such a difference! And so powerful, to watch the priests do this before our very eyes. There was a prescribed hymn for the schola to chant (Ps 21/22, I believe), and when the clergy were done, they sang the closing antiphon again and processed out in silence (and then there was adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at the altar of repose 'till midnight). It was really a stunning end to things.
* * *
Unfortunately, it's time for bed, so I won't get to fill you in on the rest just yet. I look forward to writing the rest of my observations, and to some dialogue. To my knowledge, none of my readers have experienced a traditional Triduum, but most of you have been to traditional Masses. I hope my observations are helpful / interesting to you.
Friday, April 10, 2009
On the Institution of the Eucharist
(I'm glad this is my last rosary post. I'm looking forward to shedding my felt need to catch up before I can speak what's on my mind. There are at least two less-theological topics mulling around in my brain!)
For a lover of the Eucharistic Liturgy like myself, meditating upon this mystery has the potential to be a very long post indeed. But I don't think it will be.
At last night's Mass of the Lord's Supper, I was meditating upon the priesthood and the Eucharist. And I realized how very inextricable they are. The priesthood is to the Eucharist as the proverbial chicken is to the egg: Which comes first? How can you separate them? They absolutely depend upon one another!
It was pointed out to me once that Jesus' washing of His apostles' feet was a ritual action, one that was done by the servants, but also a practical one (with open-toed shoes in those deserts? Their feet must have been filthy!). When Jesus comes to Peter, he objects at first, but then says "Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head!" (Jn 13:9). Missing puzzle piece: The feet, hands, and head were all ceremonially washed at the Jewish ordination liturgy. Though Our Lord moved on, because that was not the focus of the evening's events, Peter understood that they were truly priests then.
I love being Catholic. St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, pray for us.
For a lover of the Eucharistic Liturgy like myself, meditating upon this mystery has the potential to be a very long post indeed. But I don't think it will be.
At last night's Mass of the Lord's Supper, I was meditating upon the priesthood and the Eucharist. And I realized how very inextricable they are. The priesthood is to the Eucharist as the proverbial chicken is to the egg: Which comes first? How can you separate them? They absolutely depend upon one another!
It was pointed out to me once that Jesus' washing of His apostles' feet was a ritual action, one that was done by the servants, but also a practical one (with open-toed shoes in those deserts? Their feet must have been filthy!). When Jesus comes to Peter, he objects at first, but then says "Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head!" (Jn 13:9). Missing puzzle piece: The feet, hands, and head were all ceremonially washed at the Jewish ordination liturgy. Though Our Lord moved on, because that was not the focus of the evening's events, Peter understood that they were truly priests then.
I love being Catholic. St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, pray for us.
On the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin Mary
I really do love our Blessed Mother, but here again I feel I have little to say. Surely her Assumption was necessary for her Coronation. She does show forth the Lord's glory quite well - daughter of the Father, mother of the Son, spouse of the Spirit. And, as in the Wedding at Cana, she is pleased to request of her Son what the people need, and He is inclined to grant her desires, even if they were not His original plan (though her will must be so conformed to His own... mysteries are so difficult to make completely transparent!).
But the fact that she is Queen tells us something about our own heavenly glory. We will be glorified, strange as that may seem, and while that may have some connection to our earthly lives, the principal reason for our glorification is because Jesus wants to. What an honor!
Too, the Queen of Heaven and Earth takes over from the Mother of All the Living and leads her children in the right path, the path to heaven - just as her Son died on the cross so that "he who overcame by a tree might be overcome by a tree" (Preface of the Holy Cross).
How beautiful.
But the fact that she is Queen tells us something about our own heavenly glory. We will be glorified, strange as that may seem, and while that may have some connection to our earthly lives, the principal reason for our glorification is because Jesus wants to. What an honor!
Too, the Queen of Heaven and Earth takes over from the Mother of All the Living and leads her children in the right path, the path to heaven - just as her Son died on the cross so that "he who overcame by a tree might be overcome by a tree" (Preface of the Holy Cross).
How beautiful.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Addendum: On the Crucifixion
As I was praying in front of the Blessed Sacrament in the Altar of Repose tonight, I meditated upon the sorrowful mysteries. The concept of unrequited love came to mind, and I considered (in what small degree I can) how terrible it must have been for Our Lord to endure all that suffering for people who He knew would eternally reject Him! This, then, put into perspective something which had confused me for some time: the idea that we can offer consolation to Christ on the cross. But it does seem to make sense now. After all, difficult as it is to give something up for my own merit, it becomes possible and even joyful to give up the same thing for another person whom I love very much. What once was a terrible chore becomes a labor of love.
What a gift: to offer myself in love to my Savior such that His bitter Passion contains elements of joy! With renewed fervor I return to my pursuit of holiness. It is, after all, the most intense season of the Liturgical Year.
What a gift: to offer myself in love to my Savior such that His bitter Passion contains elements of joy! With renewed fervor I return to my pursuit of holiness. It is, after all, the most intense season of the Liturgical Year.
On the Crucifixion
I used to love to meditate on Christ's Passion (including, of course, His crucifixion). As I've grown older, however, I've realized that part of that excitement about reflection was because I knew my peers didn't get it. I knew they had little idea how much actual pain Our Lord suffered on our behalf. There was almost a shock value to the gory details.
I do wish I'd been able to attend a Seven Last Words service during my time at Franciscan (I was always either away for the weekend or in Easter Vigil Practice). It seems that would be a profitable thing on which to meditate.
I simply feel my complete inadequacy in meditating upon Our Lord's suffering and death, let alone leading others in meditation. I leave it to tomorrow's Liturgy to draw us in. You will all be in my prayers this weekend.
May reflecting on His Passion lead us to a greater appreciation for how easy our lives are, and a decrease in our own complaining (among other, more important things).
I do wish I'd been able to attend a Seven Last Words service during my time at Franciscan (I was always either away for the weekend or in Easter Vigil Practice). It seems that would be a profitable thing on which to meditate.
I simply feel my complete inadequacy in meditating upon Our Lord's suffering and death, let alone leading others in meditation. I leave it to tomorrow's Liturgy to draw us in. You will all be in my prayers this weekend.
May reflecting on His Passion lead us to a greater appreciation for how easy our lives are, and a decrease in our own complaining (among other, more important things).
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
On the Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple
Another adventure in Moments in the Life of Jesus That Used to Bewilder Claire But Are Now Her Favorites! (Perhaps I should work on another title before the next installment.)
If you buy the Bergsma-ism that the holy family never offered to sacrifice to "redeem" Jesus from His firstborn duties in the Temple, then it's very sensible that He should stay behind at the Temple - after all, He was then twelve years old, and nearly a man by Hebrew law! How cool would it have been to be bar mitzvah'd at the Temple? (Seems about on par with being ordained in Rome by the Pope.)
But His family returns to collect Him, even though He clearly would be content remaining in the Temple and discussing theology with the Temple scholars, who were impressed by Him.
"Your father and I have been looking for you," Mary says. Jesus, Who is perfect man and God, submits to the will of His mother, who is perfect in her humanity but less perfect than He is. When they return to Nazareth, we can surmise, both submitted to the direction of Joseph, who isn't even perfect! This seems so backwards - the most fallible one in the family making all the decisions?
But even conventional wisdom tells us that the Lord works in mysterious ways. He has chosen to make woman very capable, and has asked her to submit to her husband, even though he's not perfect. (Similarly, children to their parents, but this is far less scary, especially since parents generally do know more than children. With spouses, it's often fairly equivalent.)
Being the submissive wife the Lord asks me to be without throwing aside the gifts of my personality will be a struggle for me, when that time comes. But in the meantime, I simply marvel at the backwards-seeming beauty of moments like this.
St. Joseph, foster-father of us all, pray for us.
If you buy the Bergsma-ism that the holy family never offered to sacrifice to "redeem" Jesus from His firstborn duties in the Temple, then it's very sensible that He should stay behind at the Temple - after all, He was then twelve years old, and nearly a man by Hebrew law! How cool would it have been to be bar mitzvah'd at the Temple? (Seems about on par with being ordained in Rome by the Pope.)
But His family returns to collect Him, even though He clearly would be content remaining in the Temple and discussing theology with the Temple scholars, who were impressed by Him.
"Your father and I have been looking for you," Mary says. Jesus, Who is perfect man and God, submits to the will of His mother, who is perfect in her humanity but less perfect than He is. When they return to Nazareth, we can surmise, both submitted to the direction of Joseph, who isn't even perfect! This seems so backwards - the most fallible one in the family making all the decisions?
But even conventional wisdom tells us that the Lord works in mysterious ways. He has chosen to make woman very capable, and has asked her to submit to her husband, even though he's not perfect. (Similarly, children to their parents, but this is far less scary, especially since parents generally do know more than children. With spouses, it's often fairly equivalent.)
Being the submissive wife the Lord asks me to be without throwing aside the gifts of my personality will be a struggle for me, when that time comes. But in the meantime, I simply marvel at the backwards-seeming beauty of moments like this.
St. Joseph, foster-father of us all, pray for us.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
On the Transfiguration
I really want to play around with having a more casual style, in which I can throw comments out here just 'cuz I feel like it, but then I fear this will become like the xangas I kept in high school. No offense to anyone who keeps that kind of blog; that's just not at all what I want for this. But because half my point on this thing is to experiment, here I am. Hopefully next week I'll even be able to keep to my schedule (since I am nearly done with my Lenten rosary meditations)!
So: the Transfiguration. This one is pretty cool, particularly in light of how Moses asked to sort of see God's glory, and all he was able to actually look at was a passing glimpse of God's backside - and yet here the Three are able to see Jesus in His glory! Perhaps it wasn't quite the same divine splendor, but that's still pretty cool. Naturally, conversing with Moses and Elijah about His coming passion is also awesome because He literally fulfills the Law (given to us through Moses) and the Prophets (exemplified by Elijah). Which reminds me: Anyone heard of any tradition that Moses might be bodily in heaven? I know he was buried and all, but since he did appear bodily in glory with Elijah... just a thought.
Here's something about which I don't usually remember to think: What a comfort it must have been to Christ to speak with men who were (in a certain sense) His equals about this thing that must have weighed heavily on His mind (evidenced by His frequent mentions of it to His clueless apostles)! It's always such a load off my shoulders when I can discuss an idea (whether philosophical, theological, liturgical, psychological, or even grammatical) with a loved one who is of the same mind.
I like to think I'm not recreating the God-Man in my own image. But I do love seeing reflections of my own feelings and desires in His life (and His mothers').
So: the Transfiguration. This one is pretty cool, particularly in light of how Moses asked to sort of see God's glory, and all he was able to actually look at was a passing glimpse of God's backside - and yet here the Three are able to see Jesus in His glory! Perhaps it wasn't quite the same divine splendor, but that's still pretty cool. Naturally, conversing with Moses and Elijah about His coming passion is also awesome because He literally fulfills the Law (given to us through Moses) and the Prophets (exemplified by Elijah). Which reminds me: Anyone heard of any tradition that Moses might be bodily in heaven? I know he was buried and all, but since he did appear bodily in glory with Elijah... just a thought.
Here's something about which I don't usually remember to think: What a comfort it must have been to Christ to speak with men who were (in a certain sense) His equals about this thing that must have weighed heavily on His mind (evidenced by His frequent mentions of it to His clueless apostles)! It's always such a load off my shoulders when I can discuss an idea (whether philosophical, theological, liturgical, psychological, or even grammatical) with a loved one who is of the same mind.
I like to think I'm not recreating the God-Man in my own image. But I do love seeing reflections of my own feelings and desires in His life (and His mothers').
Thursday, April 2, 2009
On the Assumption
This one puzzles me at present. But since the last mystery that puzzled me so much has become my new favorite, I have great hopes here. I encourage you leave me enlightening comments! :)
Naturally, Our Lord wanted His Mother, who was preserved from the evil of original sin, to be preserved from the evil of physical corruption, in a way even more intense than what He's done for many incorruptible saints. Too, it seems that He wanted His mother up in heaven with Him. It would seem that the assumption is a necessary precursor for the coronation, too.
Naturally, Our Lord wanted His Mother, who was preserved from the evil of original sin, to be preserved from the evil of physical corruption, in a way even more intense than what He's done for many incorruptible saints. Too, it seems that He wanted His mother up in heaven with Him. It would seem that the assumption is a necessary precursor for the coronation, too.
But that's all I've got. Help!
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