Divine Mercy Sunday

We Walk By Faith

Last Saturday, my grandson, Caleb, took his first steps and I was lucky enough to be there to witness it. Caleb is almost 11 months old, and full of energy, but that morning he seemed more lively than usual. And then, it happened. He was leaning on his little walker, then turned, stretched out his arms, opening his mouth into his signature wide grin, and wobbled toward his mother. As she stretched out her own arms to grab him, I noticed that he never once took his eyes off of her. Laughing and staggering on his unsteady legs, he was determined to get to the other side of our living room into his mom's loving embrace. With a look of unabashed pride on his face, he clapped his hands in glee as we all shouted, “Yay!” Caleb knew he had done something very special that day. We knew that his trust, his determination, and his resolve got him to the other side of the living room.

This weekend, we celebrate “Divine Mercy Sunday." We sing, “We Walk By Faith” by Marty Haugen. As we hear the familiar story of "doubting Thomas,” we consider our own inability to see with eyes of faith, hope, and trust. We wobble through life, stumbling, as we strive to live lives worthy of Christ's mercy. But, placing our hope in the Resurrection, we must learn to walk with faith, all the way to our Father in heaven, remembering that, like a parent, He is waiting to catch us, with arms outstretched and eyes full of love, compassion, and mercy if we fall.

Easter Sunday

Fire and Water

These symbols of our faith are never more important than during this season of joy. Christ has overcome death and darkness. The tomb is empty - He has risen! We watch as the new fire is lit in our courtyard. The procession into church begins with “Christ, our light, thanks be to God!” The “Exsultet” - The Easter Proclamation - is sung then, with its haunting chant, its jubilant praise, its symbolism of old.

Today there are many sung texts of “The Exsultet," from the chant in the Sacramentary (the priest's book of prayers) to modern versions that invite participation from the congregation. For three years, we've used Dan Schutte's “Most Holy Night," sung by priest, cantor, choir, and congregation. This prayer of praise invites us - heaven and earth - to rejoice in this "Passover feast of God." It ends with an offering of the flame - the Easter Candle, "Accept from us this Easter flame that joins with all the stars of night, to guide the journey of our feet and lead us with its light!"

The Easter candle will soon be dipped into the water, blessing it, and uniting water and fire to give us the "Water of Life." We renew our baptismal promises, and come forward to dip our fingers in this new water. Christ has made all things new! We accept the invitation to rejoice and sing, “He is risen! Alleluia!”

Palm Sunday

The Sacred Triduum

The liturgies of the Triduum are the most solemn of the liturgical year. As Holy Week progresses, we notice an increase in the sacredness of the musical repertoire and style. All of the "old hymns‟ return - “All Glory Laud and Honor,” “Were You There,” “O Sacred Head Surrounded,” “Ubi Caritas,” and “Pange Lingua.” In a sense, the Triduum is a culmination of what we have longed for, worked toward, and hopefully are waiting for after the long sacrificial time of Lent. We longingly await our “alleluias” and the singing of the “Gloria” which returns this week.

On Holy Thursday we witness Christ's humility and love as we watch our celebrant stoop to wash the feet of those he serves. Christ, the humble servant is represented in a noticeable way right in front of our eyes - the Word made manifest.

On Good Friday our worship and music take on a more somber feel as we listen to the Passion reading. We venerate the Cross -- the symbol of our faith -- while the lamentations are sung by the choir in the songs, “All You Who Pass This Way” and “Behold the Savior”

The Easter Vigil, with its rich symbolism and ritual, emerges victorious from a week full of prayer and solemnity. As water and fire mingle in our vigil rites, we close with a resounding “Alleluia, Christ is victorious!”

Lent 5

“...and I will raise you up on the last day.”

These lyrics are familiar to anyone who has ever celebrated a liturgy in the Catholic Church. Suzanne Toolan, RSM, is an internationally known composer of liturgical music. Her communion song, “I Am the Bread of Life” has been translated into more than 20 languages. At the age of 84, she continues to compose music for Catholic repertory. Her music is timeless, prayerful, and full of her own enthusiastic spirit. I am sure we will continue to sing her music in our churches for years to come.

I chose “I Am the Bread of Life” for our communion hymn this weekend because of its obvious reference to the resurrection on the final day of glory. In today's Gospel, we hear John's recounting of Lazarus' rising from the dead. This "miracle of miracles,‟ so impossible for us to grasp intellectually, but if seen through eyes of faith, is the miracle that we base our faith on. And Jesus’ dying and rising from the grave is the reason to wake up each morning! Even the darkness of the grave cannot spell death if our hope is in the Resurrection. Our lives are but a moment in time - a blink of an eye - a turn of a season. But life eternal is our hope. Let us sing this hymn with energy and faith this weekend, remembering our own eternal life in God! “… If you believe in me, even though you die, you shall live forever.”

Lent 4

To be born visually impaired is something most of us would consider a horrible thing. To lose one‘s sight after having experienced the beauty that surrounds us is even more of a loss. My own mother, an avid reader and quilter, suffered from Macular Degeneration for 5 years before she died. I remember when she received her diagnosis. She called me and told me that she was going to study my face and that of her grandchildren so hard that she would never forget what we looked like once her sight was gone. I recall her sadness once she could no longer quilt or read. I treasure the final quilt that she made with her arthritic hands, and I trace my hands across the crooked stitches from time to time imagining what it must have been like for her to experience a loss of sight and independence.

Physical sight is something we treasure. It should not taken for granted. But the ability to "see" with eyes of faith is a gift we can only hope for. When the "film" of sin is removed from our sight, only then can we "see" our true selves - that which the Father in heaven sees. Sometimes we must lose something in order to gain new "insight" into another way of thinking or looking at a situation. For only through loss can rebirth be achieved. The song, "Amazing Grace" by John Newton 1779), captures the sentiment perfectly. “I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”