Why we need Holy Week? By Elizabeth Scalia

A few years ago, a harried day of motherhood and housewifery left me drained enough to seek out confession. I shot my confessor a look of chagrin and said, “so, wanting to launch a laundry basket at my husband’s head…that’s bad, right?”

The priest considered for a moment and said, “was the basket empty or full?”

In preparation for Easter I showed up at his screen this week and delivered myself of all that was burdening me, ending with, “I try to love everyone, I really do. But sometimes I’ll suddenly find some internet harridan all up in my face and it’s like my wrath is on autopilot; before I can stop myself, my heart and mind are yelling, ‘die, termagant, die!’ This can’t be good.”

“Well, you’re no longer plotting to smother anyone in laundry, so this is improvement,” he shrugged, “and we all have those unguarded moments, but you’re right; it’s not good. The things we make room for in our hearts matter.”

Of course they do; art moves from the heart through the hand to create masterpieces; rage moves from the heart through the hand to wreak havoc. This is precisely why Jesus Christ warned his followers that to lust in the heart is to already use and exploit another. It is why he advised us to keep our thoughts unencumbered — to let our yes be yes, and our no be no. Anything more than that tempts chaos.

These are not quaint ideas, but powerful truths that we moderns have lost touch with, and I go to confession because I understand that I have failed in following Christ’s lead. But I also go because I want to be challenged about it. I don’t want to hear “well, everyone gets mad, sometimes but you’re still a good person. It’s not like you killed someone, or anything…” because in truth, it’s not alright to give anger an opening, I’m not a “good person” and it is exactly like I killed someone.

Often when we feel bad about our own behavior — when the healthy conscience awakens and starts kicking for attention — that’s the comforting blanket of moral anesthesia we use to put it back to sleep: “it’s not like you killed someone; it’s not like you blew up a bridge,” as though only the most demonstrably and destructively malevolent actions can have meaningful impact on the soul or society. We lull ourselves back to into numbness and do not notice the accumulated effect all of our unrepented little “mistakes” — how they have helped tumble our world away from those old cornball ideas of mannerly social interaction, and toward the valley of hipster ironic sarcasm; away from respect for the opinion of others, into flamewars and political down-shouting; away from commitments and values which might cost us something, toward an illusory “freedom” that costs us everything.

The Holy Week recollection of the passion and death of Jesus Christ serves to remind us that it’s not enough to be a “good person” who does not blow up bridges. Jesus is surrounded by “nice” guys who left commerce to follow him — to heal, to give alms, to feed multitudes — and they drink too much to be able to keep him company when he asks. They engage in skirmishes. They run away. One of them betrays him for silver, another — the first of the “good persons,” the one who first pronounces Jesus as Messiah and holds the keys to the kingdom — betrays him with his tongue.

Our sense of sin has been dulled; these days we talk about our human “mistakes.” Yet we squirm in discomfort in the pews because we recognize ourselves in these weaklings and cowards and self-interested liars who will do anything to save themselves. It takes nothing to imagine that before Peter denied Christ to the woman by the fire, he first thought to himself, ‘Oh, die, termagant, die!’ and wondered if there was a laundry basket handy.

We can take comfort though, in the rest of the story. Jesus rises from the grave; these broken apostles are mended and elevated by grace.

Of this fullness, we all have a share; to give an opening to the workings of grace is to also arise in Christ; it is to fold the blanket of our soul-and-society-killing numbness, and leave it behind, like a shroud in an empty tomb.

Elizabeth Scalia is Managing Editor of the Catholic Portal at Patheos.com, and a columnist at First Things.

Nothing But The Blood

Only God can make a curse become a blessing

By Msgr. Charles Pope, Archdiocese of Washington, DC

Here in Holy Week we ponder the events that led to Jesus’ death and resurrection. Among the things to ponder is a dramatic moment in the trial before Pilate when the people who were present  utter a curse upon themselves. We read of it in Matthew’s Gospel:

When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!” And all the people answered, “His blood be on us and on our children!” (Matt 27:24-25).

Now of course the people did not intend or think of it as a curse since they were convinced of their righteousness in the matter. Nevertheless, a curse of this sort becomes operative if they do in fact act unrighteously, which they do. Hence we have here a self-imposed curse.

Some care is necessary not to associate this curse merely with the Jewish people. In the past some have used this passage to assert that the Jewish people have suffered rightly for what “they” did to Christ. But of course the Jewish people were divided over Christ. Many followed Jesus and accepted him as Messiah. All the first converts were Jews. Other Jews rejected Jesus. So, which group speaks for “the Jews” and which has the power to bring a curse upon the Jewish people? It seems untenable that a small group of Jews would be able to cause all Jews to be thus cursed.

A better and more personal understanding of the text is that the group represents not the Jewish people per se, but the whole of humanity. For, truth be told, we have all crucified Christ. It is something WE did, not merely some vague group of others called “they.” And this self imposed curse: His blood be on us and on our children!, is something we have all somehow said, we are collectively guilty of the blood of Christ.

So we are cursed! Or are we?

Read entire article here

Holy Week

This week we pilgrimage with the Word made flesh to the Cross.  We walk with crowds who welcomed Him, souls who could not stay awake with Him, souls who betrayed Him, souls who denied him, souls who falsely accused Him, souls who mocked Him, souls who abused Him, souls who ignored Him, souls who condemned Him, souls who were too afraid to stand for Him, souls who ran from Him, souls who wept over Him, and souls who followed Him.  This week I remember that I have been, in different ways, all these souls - and it is time to ask the Lord for his grace get up and follow Him on the Way.  This week, whoever we are, Christ crucified looks on us with love - his eyes searching for our eyes, his heart thirsting for ours. 

It was the Beloved Disciple who stood at the foot of the Cross with the Mother of God's son - they stood in faith believing even in the face of the anti-thesis of all for which they had hoped.  It was there Christ entrusted one to the other - so that every Beloved disciple who takes her into his home learns the wisdom of this moment.   This is the moment where the immortal Word weds our mortal silence - embracing our death that we might finally live life to the full.  May the Lord draw us into this moment - the moment which discloses the immensity of his inexhaustible love.


By Anthony Lilles Denver, CO, Catholic, husband, father of three, and student of spiritual theology.

Holy Week Reflection: Thomas J. Tobin, Bishop of Providence

Holy Week has arrived. The Lenten season draws to a close and reaches its climax. The spotlight falls fully on
the passion, crucifixion and death of Our Lord. No matter how good, bad or indifferent our Lent has been, now is the time to ponder more deeply the two-fold mystery of Love and the Cross.

“Honour be to you, my Lord Jesus Christ. Fearing your passion and death, you poured forth the love from your innocent body like sweat, and still you accomplished our redemption as you desired and gave us the clearest proof of your love for all men.

Eternal praise be to you, my Lord Jesus Christ, for the time you endured on the cross the greatest torments and sufferings for us sinners. The sharp pain of your wounds fiercely penetrated even to your Blessed Soul and cruelly pierced your most Sacred Heart until finally you sent forth your spirit in peace.”

St Brigitte of Sweden, to whom this prayer is attributed, would spend long hours in meditation on the blows
Jesus suffered during his terrible passion. St Thérèse, who said that her first real meeting with the crucified Jesus came long before she entered the Carmelite Convent, wrote, “The first sermon I understood was a sermon on the Passion.” 

Pondering the Holy Face of the crucified Jesus enabled her to see God’s love through her own pain and suffering. For both saints, as for many others, this was a loving response of the creature to the supreme loving act of the Creator.

The following abridged reflection by St John Vianney considers how we respond to God’s overwhelming love in the light of the Cross. May his words, and the example of the saints, inspire us to an ever deeper and ultimately more radically loving response.

On the Love of God

“If you love Me, keep My Commandments.” Nothing is so common among Christians as to say, “O my God; I love You,” and nothing more rare, perhaps, than the love of the good God. Satisfied with making outward acts of love, in which our poor heart often has no share, we think we have fulfilled the whole of the precept. An error, an illusion; for see, my children, St. John says that we must not love the good God in word, but in deed. Our Lord Jesus Christ also says, “If anyone love Me he will keep My Word.” If we judge by this rule, there are very few Christians who truly love God, since there are so few who keep His Commandments. Yet nothing is more essential than the love of God. It is the first of all virtues, a virtue so necessary, that without it we shall never get to Heaven; and it is in order to love God that we are on the earth. Even if the good God did not command it, this feeling is so natural to us, that our heart should be drawn to it of its own accord.
…
If the Saviour of the world, addressing Himself to each one of us separately, were now to ask us the same
question that He formerly asked St. Peter: “Simon, son of John, do you love Me?” could we answer with as
much confidence as that great Apostle, “Yes, Lord, You know that I love You”? Domine, tu scis quia amo te. We have perhaps pronounced these words without taking in their meaning and extent; for, my children, to love the good God is not merely to say with the mouth, “O my God! I love You!” Oh, no! where is the sinner who does not sometimes use this language?

To love the good God is not only to feel from time to time some emotions of tenderness towards God; this
sensible devotion is not always in our own power.
…

When you love a person, you show him the more or less affection according as the ardour of your love for him is more or less great. See, my children, what the saints were like, who were all filled with the love of the good God: nothing cost them too much; they joyfully made the greatest sacrifices; they distributed their goods to the poor, rendered services to their enemies, led a hard and penitential life; tore themselves from the pleasures of the world, from the conveniences of life, to bury themselves alive in solitude; they hastened to torments and to death, as people hasten to a feast. Such were the effects which the love of the good God produced in the saints; such ought it to produce in us.

But, my children, we are not penetrated with the love of God; we do not love the good God. Can anyone say,
indeed, that he loves the good God, who is so easily frightened, and who is repulsed by the least difficulty? Alas Triumphing over the agonies of the Cross, the bitterness of death, the shame of the most ignominious tortures, nothing costs Him too dearly when He has to prove that He loves us. That is our only model. If our love is active, it will manifest itself by the works which are the effects of love, because the love of the good God is not only a love of preference, but a pious affection, a love of obedience, which makes us practice His
Commandments; an active love, which makes us fulfill all the duties of a good Christian. 

Such is the love, my children, which God requires from us, to which He is greatly entitled, which He has purchased by so many benefits heaped upon us by His death for us upon the Cross. What happiness, my children, to love the good God! There is no joy, no happiness, no peace, in the heart of those who do not love the good God on earth. We desire Heaven, we aspire to it; but, that we may be sure to attain to it, let us begin to love the good God here below, in order to be able to love Him, to possess Him eternally in His holy Paradise.

A Chronology of Jesus’ Last Week

From Msgr. Charles Pope, Archdiocese of Washington, DC

At the heart of our faith is the Paschal Mystery: the Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ. All of salvation history leads up to and goes forth from these saving events. The purpose of this post is to describe Jesus’ Final week. We call this “Holy Week” for Jesus’ public ministry culminates with his suffering, death and resurrection.

What follows is a brief description of each day of Holy Week. It is hoped that you might print out the pdf flyer (Walking-with-Jesus-In-Holy-Week) and read it each day of this week. Prayerfully walk with Jesus in his most difficult and yet glorious week.

I realize that some scripture scholars scoff at the idea that we can construct a day-by-day journal of Jesus’ last week. There ARE historical gaps and things in the accounts that don’t add up perfectly. Further, St. John, posits a whole different scenario (perhaps as a theological interpretation) of the Last Supper and how it relates to Passover. The following sequence follows primarily the synoptic (Matt, Mark and Luke) accounts, in terms of timing. Despite certain scholarly doubts, the account really do add up pretty well if we use a little imagination and see the differences not as differences in fact, but only in the level detail.

So read this Chronology as a likely but not certain scenario of the the last week of Jesus. It is still a great blessing to consider the Lord’s last week and walk with him.

Plan to attend some or all of the special liturgies of Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, and Good Friday and Saturday at your parish. By celebrating them in community, we make them present today and learn again, in a new way, the reality of our Risen Lord alive in our midst.

Read entire article here

The meaning of Holy Week

By Monsignor John J. Oliveira

As you read these words, Christian churches throughout the world are preparing for Holy Week. It begins with the celebration of Palm Sunday this weekend.

Palm Sunday commemorates Jesus’ triumphal entry to Jerusalem. We carry palms as a sign of our acceptance of Jesus as our king and messiah. It should also be a pledge to enter into the spirit of Holy Week. Along with the distribution of blessed palms, the account of the passion and death of Our Lord is read. Palms are then brought home as a reminder of our loyalty to Christ our King.

We name the last three days of this week the sacred Triduum — Thursday evening until Saturday evening. Although Lent, according to the Liturgical calendar, ends on Thursday, we continue our fasting and prayer until the Easter Vigil.

On Holy Thursday we commemorate a number of significant events. This is the evening on which we recall the last supper of Jesus with the apostles. It was at this meal that He, wanting to remain with his disciples forever, instituted the Eucharist. The scriptures tell us He took bread, blessed it, broke it and gave it to His disciples saying, take this and eat, this is my body. At the end of the meal He took the cup filled with wine, gave it to His disciples and said, take this all of you and drink from it, this is my blood.

On Holy Thursday we also recall the institution of the priesthood. It is the priest, who through holy orders (ordination), makes Christ present in the Eucharist. It is the priest who acts in the person of Christ when he says the words of consecration. Catholic believes Christ becomes present under the appearances of bread and wine when this takes place.

There is a special ritual in the Mass of Holy Thursday. It is called the Washing of the Feet, or the Mandatum, — the order that is given, the mandate. From this we get the name Maundy Thursday.
The Eucharist should lead to service. As Jesus washed the feet of His followers, so we too are called to imitate His service to others. We can get distracted that the feet being washed belong to men only, or we concentrate on our service to all regardless of gender, race or creed.

On Friday we commemorate the Passion and Death of the Lord. It is the only day on which no Mass is celebrated anywhere in the world. And because we remember on this day the love of God for us in a special way, it is called Good Friday.

Along with prayers for the world and the reading of the passion, all are invited to reverence the cross. In each church, members of the praying community will come forward and kiss the crucifix. This sign of reverence is a sign of gratitude for our salvation and a reminder that in imitation of Christ, we too are asked to carry our cross.

Saturday is spent waiting. It is the vigil of Easter. No Mass is to be celebrated until it is evening.
The Easter Vigil begins with the blessing of fire. From this new fire a paschal candle is lit. It travels through a darkened church until the first “Christ our Light” is intoned. The celebrant lights his candle from the paschal candle. At the second intonation, all the people light their candles. The darkness of the night is transformed by the light of Christ. It is wonderful to see the darkened church become bright from the glow of the candle flames. These flames magically light up the faces of those who hold the candle. At the final “Christ our Light” all the lights in the church are turned on. The vigil has begun.

After a beautiful song, called the Exultet, the readings begin. They relate the story of God’s love in creation and the selection of the chosen people. At the conclusion of the readings, the candles on the altar are lit and the Easter Gloria is intoned. During the Mass we renew our baptismal promises and are sprinkled with the newly blessed holy water reminding us of our baptism.

Catechumens are baptized, confirmed and receive their first Holy Communion at this Mass. Alleluia predominate the liturgy this day.

The entire week focuses on one reality — God’s love for us. It is a special week. It is a holy week. The question to ask ourselves is will it be just another week or will it be a Holy Week?
May God bless you and may you have a Happy Easter.

Monsignor John J. Oliveira is pastor at St. Mary’s Church in New Bedford.

http://www.heraldnews.com/archive/x1798431859/FROM-THE-PULPIT-The-meaning-of-Holy-Week#ixzz1Jec3vb4A

Have a blessed Holy Week

From Archbishop Timothy Dolan, Archbishop of New York

Let’s see now: we’ve got a Sunday night series on one of the most corrupt and tawdry families in Church history, the Borgias, with popes, cardinals, bishops, and priests, all part of this big, happy family; we’ve heard non-stop for a decade about abusive priests, (albeit a small minority) and lax bishops who reassigned them; we’ve got front page stories of priests who embezzled money from their parishes; and I saw one not long ago about a priest arrested for DUI.


Yes, all this is scandalous, sinful, sickening, and criminal.

But, it is not new.

Popes, cardinals, bishops, priests, deacons, nuns, brothers are human.

That means, we are sinners.

Granted, when one of us falls, it hurts and shocks more. People rightly expect their spiritual leaders to practice what we preach. When we don’t, we’re hypocrites. And we know what Jesus thought about hypocrites.

But, this is not new.

If you think it worse today than in the past, I ask you to consider the solemn days we will observe next week, Holy Week: Holy Thursday and Good Friday.

Within an hour or so after Jesus had ordained His very first bishops and priests — the twelve apostles — what happened? They fell asleep when He asked them to pray with Him; one betrayed Him for thirty silver coins; one — the first Pope — denied three times even knowing Him; and all but one, the youngest, ran away scared at the time He most needed them. That lonely loyal one, St. John, was there with our blessed Mother at the foot of the cross on a hill called Calvary on a Friday strangely called “good.”

Not a very good start for bishops and priests. Within a few hours after their ordination, 11/12 had abandoned Him. That’s a worse record than even the Mets!

What’s the point? That we should tolerate and overlook the sins and vices of the clergy? Absolutely not! Or, worse, that we priests and bishops should stop seeking the heroic virtue, holiness, and perfection called for by Jesus? Never!

The point is that, if the life, vigor, holiness, and efficacy of the Church depended only upon the virtue of priests and bishops, it would have been dead-on-arrival, not surviving that afternoon when the sun hid in shame and the earth shuddered in sadness.

Our faith is not in popes, cardinals, bishops, priests, or even in monsignors. Nope: our faith is only in Jesus. He and He alone will never let us down; He will never sin; He and He alone will never break a promise; He and He alone deserves our absolute trust and confidence.

That’s why it’s especially tragic when someone leaves Jesus and His Church because of a sin, scandal, or slight from a priest or bishop. If your faith depended on us, it was misplaced to begin with. We priests and bishops might represent Jesus and shepherd His Church, however awkwardly — but we are not Jesus and His Church.

One of the more moving, sad, yet, usually “sacramental” duties I have as a bishop is to meet at times with victim survivors of sexual abuse by clergy, and on occasion their families. Some of them tell me they have left the Church, they hate the Church, they have lost their faith. Most of them, though, tell me that, as shattered, sickened, and angry as they may be, nobody, nowhere, nohow is going to take their faith away! These are an inspiration to me.

The wife of one victim once graciously said to me, “Archbishop, you have helped me regain my faith in the Church! I am putting my trust in you!”

I replied, “I’m flattered and grateful, but, please, don’t put absolute confidence in me. I’ll work everyday to earn and keep your trust, and pray daily I’ll never, ever let you down, but, believe me, sooner-or-later, sadly, I’m afraid I will let you down and disappoint you. Please, put your total faith and trust only in Jesus! Anything else is idolatry!”

Maybe, maybe there’s a decent reason for leaving the Church. I’ve never heard one, but a lot of people apparently think they have good cause, since “ex-Catholics” sadly number in the millions.

However, leaving because of something a priest or bishop may have done or not done is surely not a decent reason.

When I was about six-or-seven, I spent Saturday night with my grandpa and grandma, “Nonnie” and “Pata.” On Sunday morning, we got ready for Mass. Pata wasn’t budging from his EZ chair with the sports page and a second cup of coffee.

“Let’s go, Dad! (that’s what Nonnie called him),” yells Nonnie. “We’ll be late for Mass.”

“I’m not going. I can’t stand that new priest, Father McCarthy,” replies Pata.

“Oh, yeah,” responds Nonnie. “You can’t stand the new bartender up at Nick’s, either, but that sure doesn’t seem to keep you from going up there! Get moving!”

All three of us went to Mass . . .

Frank Sheed, that great Catholic lay theologian of last century, expressed it a bit more eloquently than Nonnie: “We are not baptized into the hierarchy; we do not receive the cardinals sacramentally; will not spend an eternity in the beatific vision of the pope. Christ is the point. I, myself, admire the present pope, but even if I criticized him as harshly as some do, even if his successor proved to be as bad as some of those who have gone before, even if I find the Church, as I have to live with it, a pain in the neck, I should still say that nothing that a pope, a bishop, a priest could do or say would make me wish to leave the Church (although I might well wish that they would).”

Pray for us bishops and priests, please. We’re sorry when we hurt you. We must try harder to conform our lives to Jesus. But don’t ever let our sins drive you away.

A blessed Holy Week!