When I was much younger, I was carted off to Allentown's Cathedral on Holy Thursday Morning to "see" the Mass of the Oils. It was impressive with many priests, lots of ceremony and music. The bishop was funny and the Cathedral was full. I should have had a better breakfast though; I fainted (just a little). I was happy nobody noticed. On the way home we chattered about Holy Week services and how it really was "cool" to be picked to serve the "big" ceremonies. We all agreed there was just something about those (these) three days for Catholics.
That was quite a few years ago and these three days still seem to step out of the regular measure of time. These "high holydays" for Catholics blend into a single event that stretches from Mass on Holy Thursday through the Vigil Mass on Holy Saturday where everything seems new and shiney about being a Catholic.
These days can be a workout for the priests and parishoners who participate in the prayers and devotions. People come "home" for Easter and its good to see friends who are raising families with kids the same ages we were once. The entheusiasm of the kids about Church hasn't changed too much. The entheusiasm of parents of the kids about growing in Faith is even more steadfast. I'm edified, even amazed, that the people I know (and some I've known since kindergarden) have grown into good parents. Some have had tough lives and others have weathered tragic events yet are good, generous, grateful and faithful friends.
So much has changed, but the friends are more precious because of that. Growing older brings me a greater appreciation of the aches and pains my grandparents complained about but it also brings a fondness for good friends, and their good example, for good families and their fidelity. That's not about aging it's maturing. And these three days give me the occasion to carve out a chunk of time to look to my life and see the wonders within and give thanks to God for things I never deserved. Faithful friends come to mind and somehow good parish priests sparkle with a special light and point me to God who calls me friend too.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Fresh Starts
The new millenium brings old problems into places we would rather not have them, our neighborhoods, our schools, our parishes. There's nothing new about the need for changes. This time, last century (1907ish), immigration was a hot topic, "the war" (with Spain) left struggling democracies in the carribean and the Philippines in the lap of US administrators. There was a need for new parishes for people who spoke little or no english and there was tremendous resistance to change (aka "progress").
Bishops had to focus their attention on very practical needs and so many buildings and programs had their origin 100 years ago. Now we have century old structures that don't match the current needs quite so well. We've grown fond of the way things have been done and the stability of parish churches makes us feel secure in a culture where changes flicker into existence and crash into our lives fast as light.
In the face of the tulmult we (well, I at least) get overwhelmed and feel pretty powerless. That's where the Grace of Hope holds things steady. I think that's our anchor in this current age and particular situation. A Synod is not a weapon of mass destruction. It is an instrument that convokes the best talents we have along side of the toughest questions we have to face and anchored by that Grace of Hope in the promises of Jesus Christ, it lets us reshape the Church so it can work as it should. There's nothing easy about any of this and when we let go of our anchor and grab hold of the debris of past practices we sink into despair.
Maybe Peter's example at the lake, where he cries out "Lord Save Me!" is best for us. There's lots of stormy situations and the gale winds of change will get stronger and that's where Christ is our anchor. God has not brought us this far into history to abandon us. This, of course, sounds quite mad without the Grace of Faith. It sounds daffy to many to suggest that the Synod is an instrument of Grace, but it is.
So, we're in it waist high and there's no easy return to the world of 1907 (or 1947 or 1997) I know of. This diocese is in the hands of God and though we can fumble the ball, God won't.
Bishops had to focus their attention on very practical needs and so many buildings and programs had their origin 100 years ago. Now we have century old structures that don't match the current needs quite so well. We've grown fond of the way things have been done and the stability of parish churches makes us feel secure in a culture where changes flicker into existence and crash into our lives fast as light.
In the face of the tulmult we (well, I at least) get overwhelmed and feel pretty powerless. That's where the Grace of Hope holds things steady. I think that's our anchor in this current age and particular situation. A Synod is not a weapon of mass destruction. It is an instrument that convokes the best talents we have along side of the toughest questions we have to face and anchored by that Grace of Hope in the promises of Jesus Christ, it lets us reshape the Church so it can work as it should. There's nothing easy about any of this and when we let go of our anchor and grab hold of the debris of past practices we sink into despair.
Maybe Peter's example at the lake, where he cries out "Lord Save Me!" is best for us. There's lots of stormy situations and the gale winds of change will get stronger and that's where Christ is our anchor. God has not brought us this far into history to abandon us. This, of course, sounds quite mad without the Grace of Faith. It sounds daffy to many to suggest that the Synod is an instrument of Grace, but it is.
So, we're in it waist high and there's no easy return to the world of 1907 (or 1947 or 1997) I know of. This diocese is in the hands of God and though we can fumble the ball, God won't.
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