When I was growing up, I remember getting to Mass early then kneeling down to pray.  To be honest, I do not recall what I prayed about, but I do recall thinking on more than one occasion as I looked around:  “What are those around me praying about?”  I was wondering if there was a certain script that I was supposed to follow or what I should be praying for.  More often than not, I probably just knelt there in silence for the amount of time that seemed right, then I’d sit down, especially if I saw my mom or my siblings sit after doing their prayers before Mass.

When I entered seminary, I became aware of a series of prayers that the Roman Missal provided for the priest as he was preparing for Mass.  I figured that if I was going to become a priest someday, perhaps those prayers would be helpful to start using as I prepared for Mass.  And in fact, I still use many of those prayers as I get ready to celebrate Mass.

But preparing for Mass should be more than just reciting certain prayers, holy as those prayers may be.  As I encouraged in my last article, as we prepare for Mass, it is an opportunity for us to disengage our spiritual autopilot so that we can fully and consciously enter into this greatest of all prayers.  

In a document written by Pope Benedict XVI on the Eucharist, he offers the following reflection about what our prayers before Mass might look like:

In their consideration of the actuosa participatio of the faithful in the liturgy, the Synod Fathers also discussed the personal conditions required for fruitful participation on the part of individuals. One of these is certainly the spirit of constant conversion which must mark the lives of all the faithful. Active participation in the eucharistic liturgy can hardly be expected if one approaches it superficially, without an examination of his or her life. This inner disposition can be fostered, for example, by recollection and silence for at least a few moments before the beginning of the liturgy, by fasting and, when necessary, by sacramental confession. A heart reconciled to God makes genuine participation possible. (Sacramentum caritatis, 55).

Part of our preparation should therefore include an acknowledgement of our need for conversion, calling to mind where we have strayed, asking that our participation in the Mass will heal the wounds of our sins and strengthen us for a more faithful and fruitful living our lives as disciples.  Although there is more that we can and should pray about before Mass, I think this aspect should never be overlooked.  

This time in silence, opening ourselves to conversion, is necessary for one of the very first parts of the Mass that we encounter, the Penitential Rite.  The priest invites us with the following words: “Brothers and sisters, let us acknowledge our sins, as so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries.”  The brief pause of silence is hardly enough time for us to do an examination of conscience at that point, but if we have spent some time before Mass acknowledging our sins and our need for conversion, this part becomes more than just a formality that we automatically breeze through.

Feast Day: July 25^th | Patronage: Spain, Compostela, Veterinarians, Equestrians, Furriers, Tanners, Pharmacists, Oyster Fishermen, Woodcarvers | Iconography: Carrying Book as author of Letter of St. James, Wearing Red as a martyr, Adorned with pilgrim-hat, staff, or shell as a pilgrim, Riding white horse into battle against the Moors, Clubbed to death in Jerusalem

Throughout Christian history, there has always been an emphasis on the importance of Christians going on pilgrimage to the places associated with Our Lord. We are a fundamentally historical religion, claiming that God set foot on this planet for a definitive period of years, consecrating those roads of the Holy Land, and with them our entire world. From the beginning of the Church, even as it spread out to the edges of human civilization, there was always a draw for Christians to try and make their way to Bethlehem and Jerusalem, seeing for themselves the places where their Lord and God had set foot.

Of course, it has not always been easy to get to Jerusalem, whether that be simply the arduous nature of travel throughout most of human history, or the wars and persecutions that cut Christian nations off from Israel. For this reason another place of pilgrimage, Rome, sort of symbolically because a stand-in for Jerusalem. In Rome the greatest apostles, Peter and Paul had died and were buried in their respective basilicas, but even more importantly it was in that Eternal City there you would find the magnificent basilicas dedicated to Christ’s birth (St. Mary Major), passion (the Basilica of the Holy Cross), and glorious reign (St. John Lateran). 

But what if you couldn’t make it to Rome? Was there a third option? Yes, as it turns out, there was one other great place of pilgrimage for the Christian world: Santiago de Compostela. This is the spot in North-West Spain where the tomb of St. James the Greater was miraculously discovered in 813 AD. Legend tells of his appearing to rally Christian troops beleaguered by invading Moorish armies around this time and the discovery of his tomb near to that event after a holy hermit had a vision of stars and angels surrounding an otherwise nondescript field. Over the ensuing centuries, ever-grander basilicas would be built (and lost) and rebuilt over the site of this tomb, and then early written accounts of pilgrims who made the trip there would slowly spread out across Europe, attracting more and more Christians to make the trek. 

In 2013 about 200,000 people walked at least 100 kilometers along one of the many routes that now culminate at St. James’ basilica, in 2017, 300,000, and in 2022, the number crested 400,000 for the first time. Here’s the deal, Jerusalem, Rome, Compostela are all just stand-ins for the real pilgrimage that we are all on: towards the heavenly Jerusalem and the New Heavens and New Earth where Christ will remain with us forever.  We’re all on pilgrimage whether we go to Compostela or not! The problemhappens when we forget that and start putting too much stock in our lives here. Here’s a few mental-exercises to ask ourselves if we have the right disposition: On pilgrimage, you carry everything you need on your back. What size pile of things do you, or I, consider essential? Do I treasure the simple and silent moments of my life, or just the exciting highlight-reel? On pilgrimage, you befriend and protect otherwise random strangers because you’re together on the journey towards the same destination. Do you or I really care for those that are alongside of us in our journey towards heaven? Do I pray for those that I’m “on mission” with by name? On pilgrimage, the point is not leisure but conversion; not self-actualization but self-transcendence. Do you or I seek more opportunities for holiness, or pleasure? Do I ask God to show me each day where He is giving me the chance to serve, sacrifice, and surrender?

– Fr. Dominic did the Way of St. James during the summer of 2015 with his mom, dad, and brother. You can see us dwarfed by the basilica in the picture below. And yes, we got to see the world’s largest thurible swung by a team of acolytes and suspended from the ceiling of the basilica.  There also was the memorable occasion when, for the only time in my life, I went to Confession in Spanish. 

In my previous two articles, I wrote about the internal and external ways that we prepare for Mass.  Those reflections were intended to focus on what we do for preparation before we actually go to the church itself for Mass.  But when we actually set foot in the church, what should we do just before Mass begins in order to prepare ourselves well for this greatest of all prayers?

The first thing we often encounter when we enter a Catholic church is receptacle that contains Holy Water.  We know the drill – we dip our fingers in and make the Sign of the Cross.  But how conscious are we of why we perform this almost mechanical action?  The purpose of the Holy Water is to remind us of our Baptism, the most important day of our life.  For it was on that day that we became God’s adopted children, able to call upon Him as our Father.  Our Baptism makes it possible for us to be admitted to share in this great prayer of the Mass.  Will we remember this every time we enter church?  Probably not, but nevertheless, perhaps we can challenge ourselves to it at least the next time we go to church.  Start small and let it grow!

The next action we usually take is when we enter our pew.  If our knees can handle it, we usually genuflect toward the tabernacle.  Not that I spend a lot of time watching people genuflect, but I can’t help but see it from time to time.  Some genuflections are very sincere looking, and others are a bit sloppy.  Now, I realize not everybody has good knees, but my guess is that many of us have knees that are capable of doing a full genuflection.  As a reminder, our practice is to genuflect with the right knee, to where it goes all the way to the ground, pausing ever so briefly, and then rising up again.  For the pause while down on the right knee, a good traditional practice is to use the aspiration that St. Thomas the Apostle used when Jesus invited him to put his finger into the nail marks of His risen body after the Resurrection: “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28)  This is an exclamation of adoration, which is what the action of making a genuflection is all about.  In place of a genuflection, it is just fine to do a profound bow, bending at the waist toward the tabernacle, making the same internal act of adoration.

There is one final action to consider, and that is the Sign of the Cross, something that applies to blessing ourselves with Holy Water, and which is also sometimes done when genuflecting.  We also make it when we kneel down in our pew, and when we begin Mass.  The Sign of the Cross can be sloppy as well if we don’t pay attention to what we are doing.  Try to be very intentional about making those distinct movements without rushing.  Otherwise, it sort of looks like we are swatting flies away!  The Sign of the Cross is a prayer, even if we do not actually say it out loud, and it’s important that we use all of the words: “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.”  Sometimes we cut corners and just say: “Father, Son, Holy Spirit.  Amen.”  Sure, we got all three Persons of the Trinity, but we have truncated it, not explicitly calling to mind we are praying in the name of all three Persons, thus the importance of those beginning words and each ‘and’.

There are three simple gestures that we perform every time we come to Mass.  Our being aware of these actions, and our efforts to be intentional about their significance sets us up well to prepare for Mass.  If we do these actions on autopilot, our brains will just continue with the rest of the Mass in that mode.  Let’s be conscious about disengaging our spiritual autopilot when we walk in and do these three actions so that we can be fully present, fully conscious, and fully active in our participation in the great prayer that is about to follow!

Feast Day: July 20^th | Patronage: Ravenna Italy and Region, Those suffering from Epilepsy or Gout | Iconography: Chasuble for Mass, Pallium as Metropolitan Bishop, with Sheep or Shepherd Staff as a Pastor, Tonsure and White Hair and Beard linking him to St. Peter

The Roman Martyrology gives us a typically terse record of the life and death of the early bishop, St. Apollinaris:

In Ravenna, the natal day of St. Apollinaris, bishop. After the Apostle Peter ordained him in Rome and sent him to Ravenna, he underwent many different tortures. Afterwards, he preached in Emilia and converted many people from the worship of idols. When he returned to Ravenna he suffered a glorious martyrdom under Caesar Vespasian.

Assuming you all wanted more of a story than that, I turn to the Basilica that now houses most of the mortal remains of this early bishop. We travel to the Basilica of St. Apollinae Nuovo in Ravenna, Italy (“Nuovo” to distinguish it from an older basilica that originally held St. Apollinaris’s relics, St. Apollinare in Classe. His relics were removed from that church, over the place of his martyrdom, in 856 AD because pirates kept threatening in raids from the Adriatic coast.) 

What is so cool about the New St. Apollinaris is that it was originally built in 504, and dedicated to Christ the Redeemer, by the Ostrogoth King, Theodoric the Great (as his personal palace chapel… after he had taken over Rome and moved his capital to Ravenna).  Also, Theodoric was an Arian! So, this church would have to be reconsecrated as a Catholic Church, and dedicated to the great foe of Arianism St. Martin of Tours, in 561.  (Only later would it be dedicated to St. Apollinaris once his relics were moved there). This all means that, if we examine the church carefully, we can see indications of its Arian roots. Many overtly Arian (as well as Theodoric’s empirical) imagery has been removed over the centuries but not quite all.  Stretching down the entire length of both sides of the nave (body) of the Church are grand mosaics depicting saints approaching Our Lord. To the left are 22 female virgins stepping towards Our Lady holding the Christ-child surrounded by four angels and approached by three magi (here given the names Balthasar, Melchior, and Gaspar, the earliest time we find those names given to these kings). On the right are 26 male martyrs, approaching Christ the King attended by four angels. 

High above these saints are depictions of the life of Christ as the congregation would have heard during the readings throughout Holy Week, a permanent visual depiction of the most important days of the liturgical year! Also we discover in this Church depictions of the port of Ravenna from those early days, an artistic rendering of Theodoric’s palace, and the fantastically detailed raiment and crown of each of the many saints. (Hit up the QR Code for a video walking you around this Basilica). 

But I want to focus in on that depiction of the mature, reigning, Christ, Who here in Ravenna is bearded. Now, you and I wouldn’t notice such a detail given how typical it is ever since to see our Lord with facial hair.  But, at this time in Roman culture, men were typically clean-shaven (a practice made popular several hundred years earlier by Alexander the Great!) and would only grow out a beard when they were mourning. SO, a bearded Christ was actually a covertly Arian depiction of Jesus because the Arian heresy was the one that rejected Christ’s divinity, something they claimed here by using a beard to emphasize His human maturation, mortality, sufferings, etc. Needless to say, a beard no longer symbolizes an Arian conception of Christ, but when this mosaic was made, it did have that emphasis!

– Fr. Dominic brings you all of these details not just to change things up a bit this week, but to remind all of us that the way we image, speak, or portray Jesus does matter! He became man, wonderfully allowing us to depict Him at all, yet we must be careful not to let our own conceptions of Our Lord ever tug us away from Who our faith tells us He truly is.