Feast Day: April 21^st

These past weeks, as we have continued to celebrate Easter, we have also begun to examine the sacrament of Holy Orders.  As it turned out, we started with the young man who fled Jesus’ agony in the garden in shame, but astonishingly reappears at the tomb, now splendid, and bearing a message of hope.  Priests are not much different: somewhere deep in the heart of the priesthood is that spectacular truth that God calls men, sinners still so much in need of His mercy, yet then He literally clothes them in white for the celebration of the Mass, a sign of the Lord’s grace at work in the priest’s hands, and words, and love.

Last week we found ourselves watching the drama unfold around Pope Martin I, as he struggled to stay faithful to His Lord and Savior as errors, emperors, assassins, and intrigue pummeled him from all sides.  In his life we have another facet of priesthood: not the sinner-supernaturalized but the shepherd-suffering, scorned, and surrounded.  How did that grace of ordination cascade through his life?  I see it in Martin’s divine doggedness in the face of horrific attacks upon him, his papacy, and his Divine Master.

First Poverty.  Then Perseverance.  This week: Prayer.  (Next week: Preaching)

And for this third pillar of what it means to be a priest, to be someone immersed in prayer, a pray-er, a mediator, an intercessor – someone who stands before God and communicates to Him the weaknesses and worship of His people, and communicates to the people the Word and wealth of God – we turn to St. Anselm of Canterbury.  Of course, I choose him because his feast day will occur on April 21^st, the day he died in 1109 in Canterbury England.  He was a philosopher, an abbot, and a bishop, and found himself immersed in the chaos and challenges of his day in all those roles (all of which, at first, he was forced into, and yet from all of them he learned the characteristics of prudence, patience, and prayerfulness that would make up his sanctity)… but we catch a glimpse of him as a priest … simply a priest … in his most famous writing, the Proslogium.  Most people read it because there he is the first one to describe an ontological argument for God’s existence, but the work is truly at its heart a prayer.  Here is how Anselm begins:

Come on now little man, get away from your worldly occupations for a while, escape from your tumultuous thoughts. Lay aside your burdensome cares and put off your laborious exertions. Give yourself over to God for a little while, and rest for a while in Him. Enter into the cell of your mind, shut out everything except God and whatever helps you to seek Him once the door is shut. Speak now, my heart, and say to God, “I seek your face; your face, Lord, I seek.” – St. Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion, Chapter 1.

Might I invite you into that place of silence and prayer as well?  Can you and I say those same words: “I seek Your face.”  Anselm tends through philosophy, theology, scripture, and much more in the course of his great philosophical work, but at the end, he reminds us that it is really a great prayerful work:

God, I pray, let me know and love You, so that I may rejoice in You. And if I cannot in this life [know, love, and rejoice in You] fully, at least let me advance day by day until the point of fullness comes. Let knowledge of You progress in me here and be made full [in me] there. Let love for You grow [in me here] and be [made] full [in me] there, so that here my joy may be great with expectancy and there may be full in realization. O Lord, You command—or, rather, You counsel—[us] to ask through Your Son; and You promise [that we shall] receive, so that our joy may be full. O Lord, I ask for what You counsel through our marvelous Counselor; may I receive what You promise through Your Truth, so that my joy may be full. O God of Truth, I ask; may I receive, so that my joy may be full. Until then, may my mind meditate upon [what You have promised]; may my tongue speak of it. May my heart love it; may my mouth proclaim it. May my soul hunger for it; may my flesh thirst for [it]; may my whole substance desire [it] until such time as I enter into the joy. St. Anselm of Canterbury, Proslogion, Chapter 26.

Anselm’s writing, and life, and ministry, began and ended in prayer, can ours do so as well?  Can our thirst for joy, peace, love, and meaning finds its answer in the Lord?

Fr. Dominic Rankin begins every day with an hour of prayer.  It is not usually filled with mystical moments or felt phenomenon, more than anything it is a conversation that often begins and ends with “I seek you face”, and that challenging yet thrilling continued yearning for God’s love, for myself and all those entrusted to my care.  This is Christ’s priesthood too.

On this Octave Day (8^th day) of Easter, the Church celebrates Divine Mercy Sunday.  This feast was instituted for the Universal Church by Pope St. John Paul II in 2000 at the Canonization Mass for St. Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who received a series of revelations from Jesus about the great gift of Divine Mercy He offers to His children.  In her famous Diary, she recorded the following words from our Lord Himself about the feast day He intended to be celebrated on the Second Sunday of Easter:

My daughter, tell the whole world about My inconceivable mercy. I desire that the Feast of Mercy be a refuge and shelter for all souls, and especially for poor sinners. On that day the very depths of My tender mercy are open. I pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the fount of My mercy. The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment. On that day all the divine floodgates through which graces flow are opened. Let no soul fear to draw near to Me, even though its sins be as scarlet. My mercy is so great that no mind, be it of man or of angel, will be able to fathom it throughout all eternity. Everything that exists has come forth from the very depths of My most tender mercy. Every soul in its relation to Me will contemplate My love and mercy throughout eternity. The Feast of Mercy emerged from My very depths of tenderness. It is My desire that it be solemnly celebrated on the first Sunday after Easter. Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the Fount of My Mercy. (Diary, #699)

Those final words stand out to me, for we hear the promise of peace that comes from turning to the Divine Mercy.  In nearly 10 years as a priest, I count my time in the confessional as some of the most fruitful ministry I have done.  I am constantly moved by the peace a penitent experiences as they encounter the gift of Divine Mercy in the Sacrament of Reconciliation.  Our sins deprive us of peace, but God’s mercy restores it in a powerful way that encourages us to not give up, but to begin again in our following the Lord, renewing our experience of the newness of life given on the day of our Baptism, and restored each time we encounter the Divine Mercy.

It is fitting that our topic for Family of Faith this month is the Sacrament of Holy Orders.  Ordination incorporates men into the ministry of Jesus Christ Himself.  Each degree of Holy Orders (Bishop, Priest, Deacon) participates in this ministry of Christ in different ways, but all of them share the common trait of being directed toward the salvation of others.  And since we cannot be saved apart from the Divine Mercy, all those called to serve the Church in Holy Orders have the special task of being instruments of Divine Mercy in various ways through service (primary role of deacons) and the celebration of the sacraments, especially Reconciliation and the Eucharist (primary role of bishops and priests).

Please pray for the clergy of our Cathedral Parish, that we may be ever mindful of the duty entrusted to us to share the message of Divine Mercy in word and in deed, so that many may approach the Divine Mercy, especially in the Sacrament of Mercy, and experience the peace His Mercy bestows in this life as a preparation for the fullness of peace that awaits us in Heaven.

Father Alford     

The Sacrament of Holy Orders is unique among the seven sacraments, in that it has three distinct but related “degrees” or levels. Other sacraments can be repeated, such as Eucharist and Penance, but the Church does not really speak about “repeating” the sacrament of Holy Orders. Rather, a man receives ordination, which confers another degree of the sacrament. The three degrees of Holy Orders are the diaconate, the priesthood, and the episcopacy. Men in the episcopacy are called “bishops.” 

The first degree of Holy Orders is known as the order of deacons, or the diaconate. Deacons are usually married men who have full-time careers, but are ordained to official ministry in the Church in both the liturgy and in parish life. The word “deacon” comes from the Greek word for “service.” In the Acts of the Apostles, the deacons were entrusted with the burden of the administration of food and money when it became overwhelming for the apostles. Today, deacons assist the priest at Mass, preach, celebrate baptisms and weddings, visit the sick, among many of forms of service to God’s people.

Priests are celibate men (although there are some married priests) who have been called by Christ to continue his ministry on earth through the celebration of the Sacraments, especially the Eucharist and Penance. Priests remain celibate in imitation of Jesus himself, who was unmarried in order to more clearly be the image of the Bridegroom, wedded to the Catholic Church. Priests usually spend a year in ministry as a deacon before being ordained priests. However, they never cease to be deacons sacramentally.

Bishops receive the fullness of the sacrament of Holy Orders. There are provisions laid out in Canon Law for the process of choosing priests to become bishops. Every few years, a bishop of a diocese submits a list of names of priests to the pope’s delegate. In the bishop’s judgment, these priests would be good candidates to become a bishop. When a bishop dies or retires, the pope’s delegate will begin the search for a new bishop from the names of priests which have been submitted. Confidential questionnaires may be sent out to people who know these candidates so that a full profile can be submitted to the Vatican. From there, a committee of bishops will put forth the three best candidates for the pope to choose a new bishop for the diocese. This entire process is extremely confidential, and a priest may not know he is under consideration until he gets a phone call, asking him to become a bishop. In the past, the practice of careerism, or priests jockeying to become a bishop, has been a problem. The Church clearly wants to avoid any careerism or even an appearance of careerism. In fact, it seems that the opposite has become true today. 

It is widely known among priests that being a bishop is an extremely difficult calling and a very heavy burden to carry. Even St. Paul, as one of the first bishops, said, “there is the daily pressure upon me of my anxiety for all the churches” (2 Corinthians 11:28). Imagine having the responsibility for the salvation of hundreds of thousands, sometimes even millions, of both Catholics and non-Catholics in your diocese. Being the chief shepherd of a diocese is certainly a huge responsibility. I have heard being a bishop described as a “living crucifixion” because of the constant criticism which inevitably comes from the media, priests, and parishioners. Because of this, some priests turn down the request to become a bishop. However, as with any calling that comes from God, we can trust that God will sustain those who are faithful to him. Faithfulness to God is a source of a great joy that even the heaviest burdens cannot take away. Those who have received the sacrament of Holy Orders are set apart for a special service of God’s people. Let us keep our bishop, priests, and deacons in our prayers so that they may remain faithful to Christ, who called them to share in his ministry. 

Feast Day: April 13^th

Intriguingly, one article I read about Pope Martin said that he was the last pope to be martyred when he was exiled to starvation on the island of Cherson (in the Crimea) in 655.  A little bit of research indicated that he is truly the last pope acclaimed as a martyr, though there have been plenty of successors to St. Peter in these intervening 1400 years who have been strangled, poisoned, maltreated, or starved until their demises … but are not acclaimed as martyrs because their death was not out of hatred for the Christian faith.  

Pope Martin’s death was … and yet he was killed by Christians. How? Why? … We should probably rewind the story a bit.

Martin was born in Italy, and blessed with a honorable family and an intelligent mind.  The haze of history obscures his early years, but by the time he is in his 40s, he is an abbot of a monastery of St. Basil and is being sent by Pope John IV to Dalmatia (nowadays Crete) with money to aid the inhabitants there who were suffering from ruinous invasions.  Martin had been known for his generosity, but would soon be known also for his diplomacy, because Pope Theodore (another two popes down the line from John IV) tapped Martin to be his apocrysiary (basically a legate/envoy) to Constantinople.  

This would not turn out to be a cushy assignment.  

The Council of Chalcedon was now 2 centuries in the past, but the truth that the Church had pronounced then – that Christ had two natures: human and divine – was now apparently up for debate again, at least the court of Constantinople (an impossible to discern jumble political and religious leaders, with emperor and patriarch contending for authority and admiration) where the latest twist on the ancient Christological heresies was to say that Christ did have two natures but only one will.  Pope Honorius I had feebly avoided controversy and let the falsehood fester, and now his successors were dealing with the consequences as the Eastern lung of the Church threatened to slide into denying the full humanity of their Savior.  Ambiguity, heresy, avoiding hard decisions, stubbornness, recalcitrancy… none of it is new!

Martin would be elected Pope in 649 and one of the first things he did was call an ecumenical council to be held at the Lateran Basilica in Rome.  One of the first things he did not do was ask for the Emperor of Constantinople (Constans II) to ratify his election as Pope.  He ruffled plenty of feathers with both actions.  105 bishops from around the Christian world rejected as heresy the claim that Christ had only one (divine) will, and notwithstanding the threats of force, coercion, and attempted assassination against Martin, the saintly pope wrote of this truth in an encyclical and had the translated decrees sent as well over to Constantinople.

Constans ordered the Pope arrested, which would take place in that same Lateran Basilica a few years later, after which Martin was brutally transported to Constantinople, marched through the frozen streets stripped, bloodied, and hobbling, and condemned to death, though, in the end, he would be merely banished to the pagan island of Cherson in 655.  Every conceivable political crime had been heaped upon him, but it was his refusal to sign off on heresy that sent him to his death.

His words, perhaps more than mine, should inspire us all: “It is now forty-seven days since I have been permitted to wash myself either in cold or warm water. I am quite wasted and chilled, and have had no respite either upon sea or land from the flux which I suffer. My body is broken and spent, and, when I would take any nourishment, I want such kind of food as is necessary to support me; and have a perfect aversion and loathing to what I have. But I hope that God, who knows all things, when he shall have taken me out of this world, will bring my persecutors to repentance.”

– Fr. Dominic Rankin often prays for the grace of perseverance (and repentance!).  It is hard enough to stay faithful through an average day’s duties, much less the brutality, deprivation, and scorn suffered by Pope St. Martin.  Yet the truth he gave his life to defend – that Christ has a human will, one united with His Divine Will – was one that the saintly pope also lived out. “Not My will, but Yours, be done” were words spoken by Our Lord, but they have been repeated by every saint since, whether in word or deed.  May we have the grace to do the same.

“Do not be afraid!” (Mt 28:5)  These are the first words the angel announced to the women who came to the tomb on Easter morning.  The tomb was empty, and there must have been a sense of fear that the body of Jesus had been taken, but the angel assures them: “I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified.  He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said.” (Mt 28:5-6)

Just a year ago, we faced the unthinkable on Easter morning.  We had to celebrate Easter Mass virtually with nobody able to attend Mass in person due to the fear of spreading COVID-19.  While our hearts tried to rejoice at the victory of the Resurrection, we still had many fears about the uncertainties of what would follow.  At that time, few of us actually knew anybody close to us who had contracted the virus.  But within a few months, few of us did not know somebody close to us who had contracted the virus, some of whom, sadly, died as a result of getting sick.

With the number of cases going down and many people getting vaccinated, many of the fears that paralyzed us are slowly lifting.  An encouraging sign of that is the announcement from our Bishop a couple of weeks ago about the modification of the dispensation from attending Mass on Sundays and Holy Days of Obligation effective next weekend, Divine Mercy Sunday.  No longer is there need for a general dispensation for everybody.  It is time for us to take seriously the invitation to return to Mass, especially if we have been away for some time, or if we have used the dispensation as rationale for not coming to Mass regularly.

There are many of us who are greeting this modification with gratitude and joy.  But we must also acknowledge those whose reaction is not so enthusiastic.  In fact, for some, this news has resulted in their having more fear.  “Does not this create a more dangerous situation?”, some may ask.  The Bishop has accounted for those who might have a legitimate reason for fear when it comes to returning to Mass, as seen in his maintaining a particular dispensation for the following cases:

1. Those 65 years of age or older;
2. Those at risk for severe illness due to underlying medical conditions as described by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention;
3. Those who care for the sick, homebound, or infirmed;
4. Those women who are pregnant;
5. Those who cannot be accommodated at Mass because the church was at safe-distancing capacity.

It is also helpful to remind Catholics that certain situations do not require a dispensation at all to miss Mass.  Here are those situations in which we would be excused and expected not to attend for the good of others:

1. Those who are currently ill; 
2. Those who have a fever or exhibit flu-like symptoms; 
3. Those who have good reason to think they might be asymptomatic of a contagious illness ( e.g., those who were in recent contact with someone who tested positive for a contagious illness such as COVID or influenza). 

For more information about the modification of the dispensation, please go to dio.org/backtomass

In light of the above points, there may be very legitimate reasons for not coming back to Mass yet, but for many of us, there is no reason not to return.  The words of the angel to the women at the tomb on Easter morning is spoken to us as well: “Do not be afraid!”  We have nothing to lose, but everything to gain!

So if you have been away, I invite you back to Mass.  If you have been coming, I invite you to invite somebody you know who has been away, encouraging them to not be afraid, but to rejoice in the opportunity to return to the feast of victory that Christ has made possible for us through His Passion, death, and Resurrection.  

Father Alford     

Happy and joyous Easter to all our parishioners! This year, our bulletin articles have been focusing on the theme of the seven sacraments to correspond with our Family of Faith formation program. The final two sacraments that we are going to reflect on are the two sacraments at the service of communion: Holy Orders and Matrimony. These two sacraments are for the building up of the Church. And while those individuals in each of these vocations certainly become holier through fidelity to these sacraments, the primary reason these sacraments exist is for the good of others. 

Easter is a very appropriate time to reflect on Holy Orders. The time surrounding the Passover was when Jesus chose to institute several of the sacraments: Holy Orders and Eucharist on Holy Thursday, and Penance on Easter Sunday. In fact, the Mass of the Lord’s Supper on Holy Thursday focuses almost exclusively in its prayers on the gifts of the Eucharist and the Priesthood.

Jesus began the sacraments of the Eucharist and Holy Orders on the same evening because they are so closely interconnected. The Church has always believed that the Eucharist can only be consecrated by a priest, whose authority has been passed down through the generations, from Christ and the Apostles, to the present day. At the Last Supper, Jesus gave the Apostles the Eucharist and commanded them to repeat this action in memory of him. It is not a coincidence that Jesus said this only to his twelve apostles at the Last Supper, and not to all of his disciples, when he taught them for three years during his ministry. Here is Luke’s account of this event: “Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which will be given up for you; do this in memory of me.’ And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you’” (Luke 22:19-20). Jesus could only command them to “do this in memory of me” if they had the power to do so. 

Another gift that Jesus gave his apostles on the night of the Last Supper was an example of humble service. The authority of the priesthood is not to be lorded over others, and Jesus made this clear when he washed the feet of his apostles before the Last Supper: “[Jesus] poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and dry them with the towel around his waist…When he had washed their feet and put his garments back on and reclined at table again, he said to them, ‘Do you realize what I have done for you? You call me “teacher” and “master,” and rightly so, for indeed I am. If I therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do” (John 13:5, 12-15). 

Later in the scriptures, we see the Apostles already passing on the authority they received from Jesus. Shortly after Pentecost, the Apostles were moved by the Holy Spirit to find a replacement for Judas, and Matthias was then counted as the twelfth apostle (Acts 1:15-26). A short time later, the first seven deacons were chosen to help with the practical administration of the Church: “They presented these men to the apostles who prayed and laid hands on them” (Acts 6:6). In 2 Timothy 1:6, Paul encouraged Timothy, “I remind you to stir into flame the gift of God that you have through the imposition of my hands.” 

All of these are example of the Apostles handing on the ministry that they received from Jesus. This sacrament is known as Holy Orders. 

“Neaniskos” is not the name of a saintly somebody you should get to know.  Nope, that is the Greek word for “young man” that St. Mark used when describing a minor incident that occurred during Our Lord’s arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane.  

And they all deserted him and fled. And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body; and they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.
[Mark 14:50-52]

Scholars, of course, have debated who this might be.  It is one of those funny little details that St. Mark’s gospel is peppered with, and seems so particular and precise that some have conjectured that it is a young Mark himself.  Who else would have been paying enough attention at that moment to notice?  And yet, there is more here than even just a minor intriguing minutiae that adds color and depth to the scene we know so well.  St. Mark will use that word one more time in his Gospel:

And looking up, they saw that the stone was rolled back; for it was very large. And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe; and they were amazed. And he said to them, “Do not be amazed; you seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has risen, he is not here; see the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going before you to Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you.” And they went out and fled from the tomb; for trembling and astonishment had come upon them; and they said nothing to any one, for they were afraid.
[Mark 16:4-8]

Everything about the passage indicates that this is, of course, an angel: right side, white robe, the women’s amazement, the angel’s “be not afraid” and communication of direction from God … and yet Mark uses again that term “neaniskos”, “young man”. Why?

Why?  Because that young man stands in for each one of us, and we will not be standing next to Christ’s empty, triumphant, tomb, and we will not be clothed in His resurrection and glory, if we have not first acknowledged that we have previously fled in fear and disgrace from His agony and passion.  It is so easy to consider the paschal mystery – Christ’s freely chosen passion and death, and freely offered resurrection – as something far from us.  So easy to consider it something we simply recall on occasion, a story that moves us for a week or two and then we get on with our lives!  

But, Christ’s death and resurrection go together, and they are received together, or not at all.  If our lives are not marked and changed by His cross, they will not be marked and transformed by His resurrection.  If we do not surrender to Him our sins, He has no way to offer us salvation.  If we are not bold enough to come to Him with hands empty, hearts broken, and the human nature He gave us wretched and shamed and divested of everything, He cannot redeem it, and us.

But everything changes when we give Jesus our brokenness.  That young man fled.  He left everything behind and didn’t follow Jesus.  We have abandoned Christ too.  That has to be our humble claim: “I am a sinner.”  “I have chosen death, not life; myself, not Christ; my truth, rather than His truth; my comfort, not His cross.”  I have nothing left, not even the appearance of grace and sufficiency.

And at that moment, when we have fallen so low, but have come back with nothing to give Our Lord.  Then He can clothe us again in His life, and His love, and His glory.  And we can find hope, and courage, and strength, and wonder in seeing His resurrection in our used-to-be-broken humanity!

Fear not, you will not be put to shame!  Leave all of yourself at the feet of Christ!  Trust that He can carry you through sin and death and darkness and fear, and bring you into His resurrection.  There is no greater gift than our sins that we can give God, because for nothing less than winning us back from sin did He endure His cross, and offer us His resurrection.

He is Risen.  He wants nothing less for us.  Let us receive that greatest of gifts!

Fr. Dominic Rankin is a sinner, and a priest.  It is a hard gift to receive when I know myself so unworthy of it.  And yet aren’t all God’s gifts to us more than we could ever hope or imagine?  Let us boldly take up His gift, and put down our sins, and simply trust that He can carry us through that tomb!

At the beginning of Lent, I invited us to reflect on the difference between being a true follower of Christ or simply an admirer.  How we have undertaken our Lenten journey will give a good indication of the camp to which we belong.  The question we can pose to ourselves is simple:  after this Lenten journey, is it evident that I love God more than at the beginning of Lent?  And by extension, do I love others more than at the beginning of Lent?  Those are the questions that are most important for us to ask ourselves, not how successful we have been with our Lenten practices, for if they have not resulted in this increase in love for God and neighbor, they have been ineffective, at least according to what the Church expects of us from our Lenten observances.  Being the so-called “best version of ourselves” must always be seen through the lens of the Gospel, not through the lens the world which focuses just on self-perfection and self-love.  The true follower of Jesus comes to the beginning of Holy Week with greater love in their hearts.  Admirers, however, have remained largely unchanged in their hearts, despite checking all of the boxes of Lent. 

As I share these challenging words, I do not intend for them to make us as feel discouraged if we find ourselves in the admirer camp.  The fact of the matter is, we all likely have a mix in our hearts of being both a follower and an admirer.  But there is good news for us, even if we feel that we have not lived this Lent well.  There is still time for us to make good use of the season, even if there are only a few days left.  Just look to the example of the Good Thief who, in the final moments of the Passion of Jesus, turned to Him with that moving request: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom”, to which Jesus responded: “Amen, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” (Luke 23:42-43)

It is not too late for us to make that intentional decision to live as a follower of Jesus Christ, asking for His grace to overcome those areas of our hearts which still only admire Him from a distance, unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary to be more completely His.  A week may not seem like enough time for this type of conversion, but this is no ordinary week!  The love of Christ is on full display for us this Holy Week as we recount the gift that He won for all of us through His suffering and death.

May I suggest a final Lenten practice for each of us this week?  Find a crucifix and keep it visible to you throughout the week.  Look at it regularly, and as you do, make many acts of reparation for your many sins, and follow them up with acts of thanksgiving and love for the sacrifice He offered for each of us.  Even if you have struggled with your Lenten disciplines, this simple practice of adoring our Lord’s Cross during this week can bear great fruit that can redeem your entire Lenten journey and so prepare you to celebrate Easter in the way the Church intends, as a follower, no longer just an admirer.

Father Alford     

When a priest receives a call to celebrate the Anointing of the Sick, he always brings several items along with him: the Oil of the Sick (usually in a very small vial or oil stock), a small prayer book, and a stole. In case of an emergency, the priest really only needs the Oil of the Sick, but it is good when possible to also wear a stole and pray the prayers from the book which surround the Anointing of the Sick. 

The Oil of the Sick is olive oil which receives a special blessing at the Chrism Mass, which our diocese celebrates on Tuesday evening of Holy Week. Nothing is physically added to this oil when it is blessed. I was surprised to learn recently that our oil simply comes from the grocery store before it is blessed. I had never really thought about where the oil comes from until I came to the Cathedral, and our staff here is responsible for purchasing this oil every year. 

God uses simple physical means in all of his sacraments: oil, water, bread, wine, and simple words spoken. However, after the oil is blessed, it is no longer regular olive oil, but instead becomes an instrument of God’s healing grace. Here is the prayer of blessing which the Bishop prays over the oil. 

O God, Father of all consolation, who willed to heal the infirmities of the weak through your Son, listen favorably to the prayer of faith: send forth from the heavens, we pray, your Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, upon this oil in all its richness, which you have graciously brought forth from the verdant tree to restore the body, so that by your blessing, everyone anointed with this oil as a safeguard for body, soul, and spirit, may be freed from all pain, all infirmity, and all sickness. May your holy oil, O Lord, be blessed by you for our sake, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord. 

Most priests keep a small oil stock in the glovebox of their car, and some even keep a very small vial in their pocket. We do not want to be in a situation where somebody needs the Anointing, but we are not able to offer it because we forgot to bring the oil with us. In cases of emergency, a priest can bless some oil himself (using the prayer from the book) instead of going to retrieve the oil that has been blessed by the Bishop.

The Anointing of the Sick typically involves three anointings on the body. First the priest traces the sign of the cross on the patient’s forehead while saying, “Through this holy anointing, may the Lord in his love and mercy help you with the grace of the Holy Spirit.” Then, the priest traces the sign of the cross on the palms of each of the patient’s hands while saying, “May the Lord who frees you from sin save you and raise you up.” There are some situations where a person’s hands or head may be bandaged after an accident, and in that case, the priest may anoint only one part of the body or even the part of the body which needs healing. 

This concludes our parish’s reflections on the Anointing of the Sick. If you remember one thing, just remember that when a Catholic is near death or seriously ill, do not hesitate to call a priest and ask for the Anointing of the Sick! 

Celebrated whenever Our Lord Jesus Christ’s Passion is Told

Just inside the door of the Basilica of the Holy Sepulcher – the gigantic, ancient, Church in Jerusalem that sits on top of the locations for Jesus’ Passion and Resurrection – you come across a strange sight (amongst many found in that Church, at least to us Western Catholics, who over the centuries have developed a different variety of liturgical and devotional traditions and accoutrements than the Coptic, Armenian, Russian, Greek, and Ethiopian (Orthodox) Christians, which form the most prevalent other groups visiting and praying in this tremendous Basilica).  That sight is a stone slab elevated just a bit off of the uneven stone floor, flanked by large candles and situated under a rank of 8 large, glass, oil lamps.  Unless you walked in just as the giant doors opened in the morning (around 5am), there is probably a crowd of pilgrims crouched and reverencing this particular stone, and bemused tourists standing around with cameras.  The air around you smells of oldness and oil, the sound of the markets and streets outside has been replaced by the reverent bustle and busy-ness that saturates this beautiful, profound, mystifying place.  You are standing before the Stone of Anointing long held to be where Jesus was washed, anointed, and wrapped in linen before His burial.

After this Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly, for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus, and Pilate gave him leave. So he came and took away his body. Nicodemus also, who had at first come to him by night, came bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds’ weight. They took the body of Jesus, and bound it in linen cloths with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews. Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb where no one had ever been laid. So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, as the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there. – John 19:38-42

I had never considered the fact that all of the scenes we know so well of Jesus’ crucifixion, passion, death, burial, and resurrection all happened within a handful of yards of each other.  Of course, all four evangelists indicate that Jesus was buried once Joseph had asked for His body, and that the tomb was not far away because they had to act quickly to be done before the Sabbath started.  So perhaps I should not have been surprised to find this anointing stone only a handful of yards from Golgotha, and a similar distance to the sepulcher where Jesus was buried.

Still, not only does this Basilica put in perspective the distance and reality of all those locations, it also brings us close to the characters that were present at those places, on that terrible but wonderful, horrible but good Friday.  His mother, and the disciple whom He loved.  Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James and Joses, and Mary of Clopas. Salome, and the other women. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.  The Centurion, soldiers, Simon, and the Chief Priests.  They stood around these same places, but they held in their heart very different perspectives on the scenes unfolding before their eyes.  Last week I put us in the shoes of Ciaphas – not exactly a saint in these scenes! – yet it is helpful to put us in the shoes of all the different characters who had the grace to be present before Christ upon the cross.  Some chose to believe.  Some chose to run.  Some chose to deny, decry, or despair.  Some chose the puzzling path of asking for Jesus’ body and preparing it for burial.  

We get to choose our place as well.  Will we act in our day, as the saints did then?  The Sanhedrin?  The spectators?  The sorrowers?  The soldiers?  The sinners?  

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has had the chance to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulcher.  He will (hopefully) never forget a long night spent in prayer in the dark and locked church.  It was chilling physically, but transformative spiritually.  A place like none on earth: where God laid down His life, and took it up again.