R2: An Advent Prayer

In the old translation, the 2^nd Eucharistic Prayer for Reconciliation (“R2” on the Missal Tabs) ended with an attractively inviting, eschatological sentence: In that new world where the fullness of your peace will be revealed, gather people of every race, language, and way of life to share in the one eternal banquet with Jesus Christ the Lord. (This is perhaps one of the very few places where I really rather liked the old translation over the new one, but that is another discussion!).

The whole prayer was exceptionally well written and inviting, one reason, I suppose for its popularity – and one reason, perhaps, why R2 tended to get used a lot at the church where I served as a deacon in the early-mid 1990s. When I returned there in November 1995 for my 1^st Solemn Mass as a newly ordained priest, I used R2 – in part because of its known familiarity for that congregation, in part because in the circumstances its Preface in particular seemed to speak suitably healing sentiments that especially seemed to fit that occasion.

In the years since, I have often returned to R2 – especially during Advent. If R1’s reference to Christ’s crucifixion as the lasting sign of God’s covenant makes it especially appropriate for Lent, R2’s – we bless you through Jesus Christ your Son who comes in your name – resonates well with the themes of the Advent season. So I have often employed it as my preferred Eucharistic Prayer in Advent. Last year was something of an exception. Focused as I naturally was last year on learning the words of the new translations, I stuck with Prayers I and II and III. This Advent, however, I have started using R2 again. I especially like the way R2 speaks of Christ’s unique and outreaching mediation – as the Word that brings salvation, the hand you extend to sinners, the way by which your peace is offered to us – not as someone who does those things but as someone who is those things, no as someone who does reconciliation but as someone who is reconciliation.

In the same vein, R2’s post-consecration, anamnesis-offering prayer proclaims the Christ being offered to his Father as the Sacrifice of perfect reconciliation. We routinely talk today about reconciliation, but our efforts inevitably fall far short of perfect reconciliation. To speak of the Eucharist as the setting through which the Christ’s Spirit takes away everything that estranges us from one another expresses in an earnestly vivid image the undoing of the alienation at hear to human existence – Adam estranged from God, Adam estranged fro Eve, Cain estranged from Abel.

One can, of course, speak the language of reconciliation anytime. What makes R2 so right for Advent is the way it so well captures the perennially Advent-like character of our existence in this interval (as I like to say) between Christmas and the end. Its expansive language - those of every race and tongue who have died in your friendship - highlights what we hope that end will be like but also focuses on what (with that end in view) we are supposed to be about in the here and now, which makes it thus a truly evangelization-oriented prayer. As the present Pope (when he was still Cardinal Ratzinger) wrote: "The Church ... has a task to perform for the world ... her disappearance would drag humanity into the whirlpool of the eclipse of God and thus, into the eclipse, into the destruction, of all that is human. We are not fighting for our own survival; we know that we have been entrusted with a mission that lays upon us a responsibility for everyone" (Pilgrim Fellowship of Truth: The Church as Communion, ed. Horn and Pfnur, tr. Henry Taylor, 2005, p. 287).

Prepare the Way

I’m guessing everyone here knows that Knoxville had its annual Christmas Parade this past Friday evening – complete with Santa Claus. So the Christmas season is certainly now in full swing here – as it is in most places. Earlier in the week, the Church celebrated one of its most popular saints, St. Nicholas, the 4^th-century Bishop known for his generosity, who became the historical model for Santa Claus. In some parts of Europe, St. Nicholas still comes to bring gifts on the eve of his feast day. Here, Santa has already arrived, but we still have to wait another couple of weeks for his presents.

Of course, Santa Claus isn’t the only figure whose annual appearance heralds the coming of Christmas. As she always does on this 2^nd Sunday of Advent, the Church introduces us to the mysterious figure of John the Baptist, who comes out of the desert each Advent proclaiming: “Prepare the way of the Lord” [Luke 3:4; Isaiah 40:3].

John the Baptist is indeed a most mysterious figure, appearing briefly at the beginning of Jesus’ public life, then quickly getting himself arrested and executed. All four Gospels mention John in connection with the beginning of Jesus’ public life, but Luke’s Gospel  links John and Jesus not only as adults but at the beginning of their lives as infants. So far, I have found only one reference to John the Baptist in Isaac Hecker’s published writings. Eight months after becoming a Catholic (so long before he founded the Paulists), Hecker wrote in his Diary [April 2, 1845]: “We have much to learn before we know all that union with God means … Alas how few live solely for God – Mary – John the Baptist – these from their birth were consecrated to his work alone.” That’s the emphasis in Luke’s story of John’s consecration as priest and prophet from Day 1 - how John was by birth a Jewish priest, summing up and fulfilling all that the Old Testament was about, and a prophet, going before the Lord in the spirit and power of Elijah to prepare a people fit for the Lord [Luke 1:17; Malachi 3:23-24].

But how to prepare a people fit for the Lord? How do we prepare for the Lord?

The Church this year reserves the specifics of John's teaching for next Sunday. The focus today is on John himself and the spirit of his message. What one notices immediately is the special solemnity of the Gospel's language - the style of an official imperial proclamation, complete with the names of the reigning emperor and his representatives. That's Luke the historian, telling us who, what, when, and where - situating John's story in the larger sweep of human history.

All of this suggests that, however out-of-the-way the Jordan Valley may seem to us (despite its regular prominence in the news of the world), the real stage on which John's solemn pronouncement is being proclaimed is not some far-off desert oasis but at the very center of society - symbolized in the Gospel by that list of names of the emperor and his representatives. As Hecker famously said, years late in 1863: "Our age lives in its busy marts, in counting-rooms, in work-shops, in homes, and in the varied relations that form human society, and it is into these that sanctity is to be introduced." [The Saint of Our Day]

Apparently, the geographical desert was just John's starting-point - as it had been Israel's starting-point way back when. Rather than remain in the wilderness, the word of God takes John out of the desert and into the world. God's word wants to be heard - by everyone, where people actually are. In the words of the prophet Isaiah that Luke quotes: all flesh shall see the salvation of God  [Isaiah 40:5].

For most of us, preoccupied as we inevitably are with our busy day-to-day lives and our here-and-now concerns, John the Baptist reminds us what Advent and Christmas are all about - God's word's active movement into our world. Isaiah said all flesh shall see the salvation of God, but in John that future is already happening in the present. And, as in Isaiah's day and as in John's, there are certainly plenty of valleys to be filled and mountains and hills to be leveled in our lives.

Advent, as we are always being told, is all about waiting and eager expectation. But waiting for what, exactly? Surely not just for Santa Claus! For Christ? Yes, for Christ - but surely not for Christ to be born! That happened a long time ago in Bethlehem. Otherwise, we wouldn't be praying here in this church today! For the third time today, let me quote our Paulist founder Isaac Hecker: Christ has come. Christ is here, now upon earth. Christ ever abides with men according to His word. What the age promises men is the rending asunder the clouds of error which hinder them from seeing that Christ is here. What the age promises and men most need is the light to enable their eyes to see that the Incarnation involves Christ’s indwelling presence in His Church acting upon man and society through her agency until the consummation of the world. [The Church and the Age, 1887]

Like the first coming of Christ, which John proclaimed way back then, the day-in, day-out, here-and-now, coming of Christ, which the Church lives all year long, invites a convinced and committed response on our part. That kind of response can only be sustained when we become convinced, as St. Paul so clearly was, that the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus [Philippians 4:7]

Homily for the 2nd Sunday of Advent, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN, December 9, 2012.

Conceived without Sin

O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!

When I was in grade school, that invocation and response were a regular part of our school prayers. Although I dutifully responded pray for us who have recourse to thee, in fact for many of those years I had no clue what the word recourse really meant. Given the high quality of religious instruction then, my guess is that I understood the meaning of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception before I ever got around to understanding the meaning of the word recourse!

When, in 1858,  the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to St. Bernadette Soubirous in a very cold and wet, little town of Lourdes in the Pyrenees Mountains, she identified herself with the words, “I am the Immaculate Conception.” Bernadette did not recognize the reference or understand its meaning. No surprise there! Intellectuals had been arguing about their meaning for centuries. In 1497, the University of Paris had even decreed that no one should be admitted to the University without first swearing to assert and defend Mary’s Immaculate Conception! (Presumably that requirement is no longer in force at the Sorbonne!).

In 1846, the U.S. bishops unanimously chose Mary, under the title of her Immaculate Conception, as Patroness of our country. Eight year later, in 1854 Blessed Pope Pius IX finally infallibly defined the essence of the Church’s belief about Mary’s Immaculate Conception – the Church’s faith that, thanks to the salvation Jesus accomplished on our behalf, Mary was preserved from sin, from the very beginning of her existence, and so was from the very start completely holy. She is, as the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth [1770-1850] famously called her “Our tainted nature’s solitary boast.” Meanwhile, two months after Pius IX’s dogmatic definition, the small and struggling Catholic community in Knoxville, TN, purchased a lot on Summit Hill outside the town’s northern limits intending to build their first parish church there. At its dedication later that year, the church was named for the Immaculate Conception.

The story we just heard from the Old Testament [Genesis 3:9-15, 20] highlights the serious damage done by Adam and Eve to themselves and to the rest of the world - and the damage all of us have continued to do to ourselves and to our world, through our alienation from God. Mary, however, holy Mary, represents the healing effect of God’s far-greater power, empowering Mary to say Yes” to God where Eve had said “No” – God’s powerful plan to save us from ourselves.

The story calls Eve the mother of all the living. In spite of sin, human life continued – the very first sign that God was not going to give up on us. Of course, the serpent still lives and continues his mischief, but his doom is already certain. Eve’s greatest descendant and Mary’s Son will strike at the serpent’s head and crush him.

When Our Lady appeared to St. Juan Diego in Mexico in 1531, she spoke in the Aztec language, Nahuatl (just as later on at Lourdes she would later speak not in fancy French but in the local Pyrenees dialect). The Nahuatl word, which to the Spaniards sounded like an already familiar title, “Guadalupe,” literally meant “Who crushes the serpent.”

God’s great plan for our salvation, the mystery decided upon from all eternity and hidden for so many centuries, has been realized in Mary’s Son, Jesus, and is now revealed in the life and mission of the Church. Mary’s holiness at the very beginning of her earthly life is also the Church’s holiness at its beginning and invites us to look forward to the Church as it will one day be in the perfect holiness of God’s kingdom.

O Mary conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to you!

Homily for the Solemnity of the Immaculae Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Immaculate conception Church, Knoxville, TN, December 8, 2012

Chanukah

The Jewish holiday of Chanukah begins Saturday night. Growing up in New York City, I was always aware of all the major Jewish holidays. Chanukah, of course, is not a major Jewish holiday. It is not prescribed in the Torah, like the "pilgrimage" feasts of Pesach (Passover), Shavuot (Pentecost), and Sukkot and the autumn "high holydays" of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Moreover, the historical event on which Chanukah is based is not even included in the Jewish Bible  - although it is found in the Catholic one (1 Maccabees 4:36-59). On top of that, the popular Talmudic story of how a single-day’s supply of oil for the Temple’s menorah miraculously lasted for eight days only appeared about 600 years after the events described in the books of Maccabees.  More pointedly, perhaps, the prohibition of work associated with the Sabbath and the really major holidays does not apply to Chanukah.

It seems pretty obvious that Chanukah became as big as it is in the U.S. in the 20th century as a kind of Jewish alternative to the overwhelmingly omnipresent Christmas holiday. Thus the tradition of giving Chanukah geld to children could easily evolve into full-scale gift-giving analogous to Christmas. Even so, Chanukah’s popularity seems deeply rooted. A 1960s radical friend of mine once told me how his family was non-religious and celebrated no Jewish holidays – with the one exception of Chanukah, which his socialist father considered a common people’s holiday. As for Jesus, presumably he too observed Chanukah, along with the other Jewish festivals, for the New Testament mentions both the festival and his presence: The feat of the Dedication was then taking place in Jerusalem. It was winter. And Jesus walked about in the temple area on the Portico of Solomon (John 10:22-23).

The 20^th-century restoration of Israel as a Jewish state has also been a boost for Chanukah, which originated after all as a commemoration of the rededication of the Temple after the Maccabees’ victory over King Antiochus IV, who had profaned it and outlawed Jewish religious practices. The 2 books of Maccabees recount the heroic resistance of the Jewish people under the military leadership of the Maccabees, as well as the sufferings of Jewish martyrs. For modern Israel, it undoubtedly serves as a good nationalist holiday – especially given the constant threats to Israel’s existence. Last month’s anti-Israel action by that institutionalized expression of international immorality, the United Nations, highlights the relevance of Chanukah for Israel and all people of good will who support its survival against enemies every bit as implacable as Antiochus IV.

I'm told that pre-modern rabbis often downplayed the military and nationalistic dimensions of the holiday, and that the emphasis on the story of the miraculous oil may have served as an alternative - more edifyingly "spiritual" - emphasis (a particularly practical approach, perhaps, during the long centuries of exile under Gentile rulers). With the 20^th-century restoration of Israel as a Jewish state, the holiday's original historical significance has, naturally enough, undergone a revival, and both the Zionist theme of Hewish national liberation and the universal theme of cultural and religious freedom have moved to center stage. Meanwhile, the survival of the festival's popular, folkloric customs - like potato pancakes - adds to the permanent appeal of the holiday.

Like the autumn harvest festival of Sukkot, which the New Testament typically calls the Feast of Booths or Tabernacles, Chanukah has no real Christian analogy. The relationship between Passover and Easter (and between Shavuot and Pentecost) is genuinely theological, but there is nothing in the Christian calendar corresponding to Sukkot or Chanukah. The coincidence of Chanukah with Christmas is largely just that - coincidental. They are, to be sure, both winter light festivals; but it was most likely a pagan, Roman winter feast which inspired the dating of Christmas. Chanukah did not inspire Christmas. (If anything, as has been said, the reverse is true in the case of the contemporary American Chanukah celebration).

That said, the fact that Chanukah and Christmas are both winter light festivals does suggest one important point of contact. Amidst all the bright lights of the modern Christmas season, Chanukah focuses on the special candelabrum (known as a chanukkiah), which, unlike an ordinary menorah, has eight candles (plus an additional shamrash candle). The chanukkiah is supposed to be at a window, where it can be seen from outside, so others can see it and be reminded (catechized?) about the Chanukah miracle.

Now I think that most people put their Christmas Tree near a window whenever possible. Like the more modern displays of lights outside of houses, putting the tree near a window enables its light to be seen by others outside. Perhaps, we Christians need to be more intentional about seeing our Christmas lights as vehicles of evangelization, symbols of Christ, the light of the world, catechizing everyone outside about his coming into our world. As I have often observed, there is no other time of year when our homes and cities are as beautifully decorated and illuminated as at this season. So we need to let the lights and symbols of the season speak out the good news of great joy for all the people (Luke 2:10).

Servant of God, pray for us!

In his 2008 book, Why Go to Church: The Drama of the Eucharist, the recently retired Master General of the Dominican Order, Timothy Radcliffe, recalled how one of the first things the Irish immigrants did when they settled in cities like Liverpool during the Industrial Revolution was to build big churches. Radcliffe writes: “it was a sign that they were not as they might seem, mere members of the urban proletariat, but citizens of the kingdom. They were fellow citizens of the saints whose statues filled their churches, God’s own children. Their houses might be slums, but their home was heaven.”
 

Similar sentiments undoubtedly characterized the immigrant Catholic community that founded Immaculate Conception parish in 1855 and built our "Church on Summit Hill" – a visible sign, not just for them, but for the whole world of the Kingdom of God present and active here in East Tennessee. We come to our parish church to hear God’s word and to be fed from his altar. United around that same altar, we are then sent forth to announce the Gospel of the Lord and glorify the Lord by our lives.
 

So caring for the physical fabric of this 126-year old church is a key component of my job as pastor. This year’s project - replacing the church’s 19^th-century slate roof – has just been successfully completed. Going forward, I look forward to phase two - the replacement of the church’s inside ceiling this coming summer.

 

Inside the church, meanwhile, a special place has been set aside for prayer for the canonization cause of Paulist Founder, Isaac Hecker, and for the mission of the Paulist Fathers, as well as prayer for one’s own personal intentions (for which is provided a prayer invoking Hecker’s intercession). Displayed there is a copy of an ancient icon of the Mother of God, venerated in the the Papal Basilica of St. Mary Major in Rome, in the Cappella Paolina (Borghese Chapel) built especially to house it in. After his expulsion from the Redemptorists in 1857, Servant of God Isaac Hecker prayed before this image as he prepared to undertake his new mission which led to the founding of the Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle (The Paulist Fathers) in 1858. (The Paulist Fathers undertook mission work in Tennessee beginning in 1900, and have served at Immaculate Conception parish since 1973). Like the proverbial incense at evensong, may Hecker's prayers rise to heaven on behalf of those who invoke his intercession, and may the good work he began when he founded the Paulists contine in the fertile field of East Tennessee.