Come, Holy Ghost

Seven weeks have passed since we celebrated the Lord’s resurrection. From the accounts that have come down to us – in the Gospels and in the Acts of the Apostles - one gets a sense of the original Easter season as a time of transition, as the focus perceptibly shifts from what Jesus has been doing to what the disciples are going to do. As we all know, it takes time – sometimes a lot of time – to get people properly prepared for a major undertaking. So the Risen Lord prepared his disciples for the task ahead, laying out his program, and getting them “on board” to implement it, empowering them with the gift of the Holy Spirit. Now, it’s Pentecost, and the implementation part begins in earnest.

That’s assuming, of course, that we notice! Pentecost was once one of the greatest festivals of the year, in both church and civil calendars. It was on a par with Easter. 60 years ago, it still had a week-long octave like Easter, and even had its own Saturday morning vigil (complete a blessing of baptismal water). At one time, Kings and Queens were expected to wear their crowns publicly on Pentecost. About all that’s left of all that now, in post-Christian Europe, is the 3-day Whitsun weekend. And here in the U.S., we don’t even have that.

Pentecost is a Greek word meaning the 50th day. Its Hebrew name, Shavuot, means “weeks” and refers to the seven weeks that began with Passover. Shavuot was the second of the three pilgrimage feasts in the Jewish agricultural calendar. In time, it became a commemoration of the covenant at Mount Sinai, which occurred (according to Exodus) about seven weeks after Israel’s escape from Egypt. Just as summer fulfills the promise of spring, the giving of the commandments fulfilled the promise of nationhood, of which the exodus had been but the beginning; and Pentecost’s gift of the Holy Spirit fulfilled the promise of the resurrection, transforming the disciples into faith-filled witnesses testifying to the wider world.

Pentecost is often called “the birthday of the Church,” since, as a result of having received the gift of the Holy Spirit during the Shavuot following Jesus’ Ascension, the apostles began the Church’s mission of preaching the Gospel to the whole world. Pentecost and the Church are what fulfill and complete the promise of Easter and carry Easter into the world of day-to-day life and work.

According to Acts, there were some 120 persons present in what tradition calls the Upper Room. Artistic renditions often focus particularly the 12 apostles along with Mary, the Mother of Jesus. In a famous mosaic in the dome of the Basilica di San Marco in Venice, however, the 16 nationalities (Parthians, Medes, Elamites, etc.), who are mentioned in the story as having heard the Gospel preached in their native languages (thus undoing the damage done to the human community as a consequence of the Tower of Babel) are all represented in the scene, each by a male and female pair (an image of the universality of the Church).

For the Holy Spirit has not been given to us just so that we can feel good about ourselves, so that we can continue Christ’s presence among us in some purely private way (as if the Church were just a social club or some sort of inward-looking therapeutic community). On the contrary, the community which continues Christ’s life and work in the world must be as broad and wide as the world itself, which is why it must speak as many languages as there are to be heard in the world.

Today’s gospel reminds us that since apostolic times Sunday has been the privileged day when the Church experiences in its liturgy the continued presence of the Risen Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit. But Pentecost is also an annual reminder of what happens every week with the transition from Sunday to Monday. In the calendar, Pentecost marks the annual transition from Easter time to ordinary Time, our time, the time of the Church, when what began with the resurrection takes effect in our daily lives. From our weekly Sunday celebration around the unleavened bread which has become the body of our Risen Lord, we are sent out to the world, as one body and one spirit in Christ, as the Risen Lord’s permanent presence in the leavened bread of our daily lives in the world.

In that sense, Easter doesn’t end at Pentecost, and Sunday doesn’t end on Monday, anymore than Mass ends with the Dismissal. We do indeed depart, but we do so changed and energized – sent out in the power of the Holy Spirit to renew the face of the earth.

Homily for Pentecost Snday, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN, June 12, 2011

While I Was Away

Admittedly, the once-upon-a-time classically-oriented political theorist in me really rather likes it that way. But, like it or not, it seems that modern life abounds in meetings; and that's at least as true in church life as in comparable secular professions and activities. At the end of May, I attended a Paulist Fathers’ retreat in an oceanside setting in New Jersey. It was, as I wrote on these pages at the time, a powerful experience of Paulist community – three full days of hearing and responding to each others' stories of adversity and resilience – followed by an uplifting ordination ceremony and First Mass at the “Mother Church” in New York. Of course, whenever you are away for that many days, you may feel there is a price to be paid in the pileup of things that await you on your return! And then after a busy week of catching up, I was away again – this time for the annual Nashville-Knoxville priests’ convocation at Fall Creek Falls State Park. Again, another good meeting in a nice place, with great presentations and good fellowship! No cellphone service, however! And only limited access to email in the lobby! Hardly the end of the world, but an adjustment to what have become normal expectations!

Having no cell phone service and limited email may help in its own way to focus one's attention on the business at hand. However, there was still TV in one's room, and CNN was always there to keep one up-to-the minute, for example, on such matters of critical world-historical import as the ongoing saga of a certain New York Congressman and what he did - or didn't - do and (once he'd admitted what he had actually done) whether he should - or shouldn't - stay in Congress. So I was hardly cut off from the critical concerns of contemporary civilization, even while away!

Other than its apparent appeal as sheer spectacle, however, it is less than clear why any of this sad and somewhat sordid story deserves the enormous amount of attention it has received. (It's not like the world doesn't present any number of significant matters much more worthy of at least some of our attention). Of course, watching prominent people be brought down by their personal flaws has, I suppose, always been popular entertainment and for many of us may seem almost irresistible. The combination of apparently thoughtless lack of self-control with wealth, social status, and/or cultural or political prominence - and the apparent sense of entitlement prominence may breed - can almost turn such tabloid-like stories into morality plays. Almost, that is, because, when all is said and done they remain basically tabloid-like stories. When prominent people offend, their behavior is likely much more common than we care to admit and our public fascination with the personal failures of prominent people seems hardly justified by whatever moral lessons may be learned. As for whether politicians who get caught engaging in such behavior deserve to be hounded out of office, I personally remain quite content to leave that up to the offender's contituents to determine - on election day. That's how it ought to be, I believe, in a functioning democracy. Let the voters - not the media - decide. (For the same reason, I dislike term limits - even for President).

Meanwhile the world continues to turn.

Looking Up

St. Bernard of Clairvaux is supposed to have described the Ascension as “the consummation and fulfillment of all other festivals, and a happy ending to the whole journey of the Son of God.” While theoretically still certainly one of the five biggest festivals of the church calendar, Ascension nowadays may seem somewhat shrunken. Back where I come from, however, it is still celebrated on its proper day, Thursday of last week; and there everyone knows what day it is because the local news announces that in the entire city what we call “alternate side of the street parking” is suspended for the day. It’s even better in Europe – where, in some countries, it is still a legal holiday and even Stock Markets are closed in observance of the Ascension.

Belief in the ascension is, of course, one of the key components of the Creed, which we recite regularly - if maybe at times a bit absent-mindedly - all year long. After professing our faith in Jesus’ resurrection, we add: he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.

As the words of the Creed suggest, the ascension actually involves several things. Historically, it has to do with the fact that the Risen Christ was no longer living among his disciples as he had been before. The Risen Lord lives already the new life of the future of which his resurrection is a foretaste for us. The New Testament authors assure us that the Risen One presented himself alive to his disciples, appearing to them and speaking about the kingdom of God. After a certain period, those appearances ended. It was time to move on to the next stage in salvation history – our time, the time of the Church. Historically, therefore, the Ascension refers to the end of the period of the Risen Christ’s appearances to his disciples.

That being the case, the question then becomes: well, where exactly is he? Again, the Creed contains the answer: he is seated at the right hand of the Father. Of course, as Son of God, the Divine Word, has always been with the Father. Theologically, what the Ascension celebrates is that the Word-made-flesh, the incarnate Christ is now with God his Father, the fact that his human body (and thus our shared human nature) that is with God.

In Jerusalem, in the Church of the Ascension on the Mount of Olives, pilgrims get to see a footprint-like depression in the rock, which purports to be the exact spot from which the Risen Lord ascended to heaven – a bit fanciful, perhaps, “as if” (as one author has written) Jesus “sprang into the heavens with such vigour that the very rock underneath his feet was compressed in the act” [Douglas Farrow, Ascension Theology, 2011, p 16]. The footprint may well be fanciful, but it does highlight the point that it was Jesus’ human body (and thus our shared human nature) that ascended – that is, is now with God.

As St. Augustine famously said in one of his sermons: “Although he descended without a body, he ascended with a body and with us, who are destined to ascend, not by reason of our own virtue but on account of our oneness with him” (Sermon 263).

Thus, the Ascension anticipates what the resurrection has made it possible for us all to hope for. In the words of the liturgy: where he has gone, we hope to follow.

In the meantime now - in this interim between Easter and the end - though he is absent, he has promised to remain present: behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age [Matthew 28:20].

Hence, his instruction to his disciples to wait for the promised gift of the Holy Spirit. The same Jesus, who lived and died and now lives again forever with his Father, far from being absent, is still present among us by the power of the Holy Spirit at work in the Church and its sacraments. Furthermore, not only does the Risen Christ continue present in the Church through God’s gift of the Holy Spirit and the sacraments, but through the Eucharist in particular we participate already even now in the heavenly liturgy, where Christ, as our High Priest intercedes forever on our behalf with his Father (cf. Romans 8:34; Hebrews 7:25).

Homily for Ascension Day, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN, June 5, 2011.

Restoring the Baptismal Font

Tomorow, Immaculate Conception Church will inaugurate its restored baptismal font and baptistery. The baptistery, the site of the baptismal font, has always been considered one of the most important parts of a parish church, “the place where, from the womb of the Church, so to speak, Christians are reborn through water and the Holy Spirit” (Book of Blessings, 1084). The oldest known western fonts, found in the Roman catacombs, were apparently cisterns hewn in the floor of baptismal chapels. With the major church-building activity of the fourth and subsequent centuries, however, the baptismal font was typically enshrined in the magnificent baptisteries of that period - often separate structures from the church building itself, as can still be seen in the case of the Baptistery of the Lateran Basilica (the Pope’s Cathedral as Bishop of Rome) and other famous Italian churches. Presumably, the growing prevalence of infant baptism and the greater frequency of administering the sacrament led to a change in the structure of the font to facilitate holding a child over it, resulting eventually in the smaller baptismal fonts with which we have traditionally been familiar. This would have been located within the church building but typically in its own distinctive place and separated from the body of the church by a gate or railing. In churches where the main altar was located at the eastern end of the church, the baptistery would preferentially be located at the church’s northwestern corner.

When the present Immaculate Conception Church was built in 1886, the baptistery was accordingly located in the narthex or vestibule near the Church's main entrance, at what was symbolically (although not geographically) the liturgical northwestern corner of the building. Sometime in the 1930s, apparently because of the cold temperatures in the narthex, the font itself was moved further inside the church, and the original baptistery was converted to other uses. In recent decades, it has been completely closed off by a wooden wall and door and has served as a storage room. Meanwhile, at some point the original font found its way to our parish cemetery, from which it has only recently been salvaged.

In anticipation of our church’s 125th anniversary this fall, this seemed like a good time to reopen the site of the original baptistery, exposing the original windows (with their baptismal theme)and, at the very least, brightening up the vestibule area. After considering various options, it seemed best to try to restore the place to its original character and purpose. The original font was found, cleaned, and restored to its original location (of which we can be safely certain because of the drain located in the floor). Among the other objects we found when clearing out the storeroom were the metal gates from the old altar rail. These are presently being adapted to serve as the entrance to the restored baptistery. Two unused pews have been added for use during baptisms. A crucifix has been hung on the wall, and a statue of St. Paul, Apostle to the Nations and Patron of the Paulist Fathers, has also been incorporated into the baptistery area. With the end of the Easter season after Pentecost, the Easter Candle will also, according to contemporary liturgical custom, stand near the font.

This entire project was possible because of the generous, volunteer labor of parishioners. Immaculate Conception Parish is blessed to have such a beautiful and historic church building. We are even more blessed to be a faith-filled community of people committed to our life together as Church and to the service of one another, all of which is so suitably centered in our 125-year old "Church on Summit Hill."

Ascension Thursday

By accident of the calendar, Memorial Day was celebrated this year on its traditional day, May 30 – not because the traditional date has been restored (although there are those who advocate that) but because May 30 this year fell on a Monday. In 1968, the Uniform Holidays Bill moved Memorial Day from its traditional May 30 date to the last Monday in May. The law took effect at the federal level in 1971. After some resistance, all 50 states adopted the measure within a few years. I am not a fan of the Uniform Holidays Bill – or of the mindset that motivated it. On the contrary, I count myself among those contend that changing the date to create a 3-day weekend has undermined the meaning of the day and made it merely the symbolic beginning of the summer vacation season. (Beginning in 1987, Hawaii's Senator Daniel Inouye, a World War II veteran, repeatedly – and unsuccessfully - introduced measures to return Memorial Day to its traditional date.)

I feel somewhat similarly about religious holidays – those once great festivals like Epiphany and Ascension and Corpus Christi that have (in certain jurisdictions) been moved to a nearby Sunday. Epiphany and Corpus Christi, because they are no longer holydays of obligation in the United States, are permanently transferred to Sundays everywhere in the U.S. Ascension remains a holyday in the United States, and so some ecclesiastical provinces still retain it on its traditional day (although many American jurisdictions seem to have availed themselves of the option to move it). When I was stationed in Canada, we celebrated Ascension on a Sunday, and I remember hearing someone once refer to it as “Ascension Thursday Sunday.” More recently, when I was back in New York, we were asked for input on whether to transfer Ascension to a Sunday. One priest, who had previously served abroad in a couontry where Ascension is still a holiday, made an impassioned case for keeping the traditional date and won the argument – at least in our vicariate. In any case, in New York Ascension is still celebrated on its traditional day – today - and so one gets to hear the local news announce that in the entire city what New Yorkers call “alternate side of the street parking” is suspended for that day!

No doubt, there are certainly some valid arguments in favor of transferring the feast to the following Sunday. The question is how compelling such considerations really are. The bishops of England and Wales will discuss at their November meeting whether to reverse a 2006 decision and transfer the celebrations of Epiphany and Ascension from Sunday back to their authentic dates. Given their recent courageous decision to restore Friday abstinence, there is reason to hope that they will do the bold thing in this case as well.

One of the downsides of moving the Ascension is its effect on the traditional notion of the pre-Pentecost “novena.” There was a time, not so long ago, when novenas – nine days of prayer usually in preparation for a major feast or Saint’s day - were widely observed in the Church in this country. Some years ago, I looked at the Parish Novena Booklet that was once in use at Saint Paul the Apostle Church in New York, and I could count eleven such novenas that were then a regular part of the devotional life of that parish. The pre-Pentecost novena is based on the account in Acts 1:12-14, which describes the community disciples in Jerusalem between the Jesus’ Ascension and the descent of the Holy Spirit. That episode has often been seen as the first “novena” in the Church’s history.

It took place, Acts tells us, in the upper room, a familiar place where the apostles may have regularly gathered. Altogether some 120 disciples were present, all gathered around the apostles, as ever since the Church has been gathered around their successors, the bishops. Also there with them was Mary, the mother of Jesus and now the mother of the Church. The atmosphere in Acts appears almost retreat-like. The gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit are given to us, within the Church, for the sake of the world – and so are intended to be visible. But, beforehand, comes the silent, spiritual process of inner personal preparation - one reason why a renewed awareness of these 9-days prior to Pentecost might be a good idea.

Yesterday was Confirmation Day in my parish. As sacraments go, confirmation can sometimes seem quite elusive, almost an after-thought – or, even worse, a kind of graduation (from Church? from religion?). Yet, unlike graduation, confirmation is not a celebration of separation but of connection. In its original context, confirmation connected baptism, the once-for-all sacrament of entry into the Church, and Eucharist, the regularly repeated sacrament that makes the Church what it is. As celebrated today, confirmation deepens one’s connection with the Church. It expresses the communion of those being confirmed with the bishop – and, through the bishop, their connection with the apostolic origins of the Church. (As in last Sunday’s reading from Acts, in which, when the apostles heard that Philip had baptized some Samaritans, they sent Peter and John to lay hands on them “and they received the Holy Spirit,” thus more completely connecting the newly baptized Samaritans with the apostolic Church).

The gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit are not, of course, confined to Confirmation Day. Confirmation highlights for all of us the significance of these final days of Easter, when we are invited to identify with the 120 disciples in the Upper Room, praying like them for the transforming power of the Holy Spirit to continue Christ’s life and mission in our own lives and in our world today.