Since we are travellers and pilgrims in the world, let us ever ponder on the end of the road, that is of our life, for the end of our roadway is our home (St Columban, 8th sermon).
Showing posts with label French Miniaturist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label French Miniaturist. Show all posts
GospelJohn 6:51-58(English Standard Version, Anglicised)
Jesus said to the crowd:
“I am the
living bread that came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he
will live for ever. And the bread that I will give for the life of the
world is my flesh.”
The Jews
then disputed among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his
flesh to eat?”So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son
of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you.Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my
blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day.For my flesh is true food, and my blood is
true drink.Whoever
feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.As the living Father sent me,
and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will
live because of me.This
is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers
ate and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live for ever.”
[Source: Jesuits in Britain; link no longer there]
During his homily in St Peter's Basilica on 26 April 2015 at the ordination Mass of 19 new priests Pope Francis said: Indeed, in being configured to Christ the eternal High Priest, and joined to the priesthood of their Bishop, they will be consecrated as true priests of the New Testament, to preach the Gospel, to shepherd God’s people, to preside at worship, and especially to celebrate the Lord’s Sacrifice.
In using the words 'being configured to Christ' Pope Francis was echoing what both St John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI taught.
Pope Francis also spoke to the young men of the importance of being ministers of God's mercy, especially through the Sacrament of Penance and the Sacrament of the Sick, known before as Extreme Unction: Through the Sacrament of Penance you forgive sins in the name of Christ and the Church. And I, in the name of Jesus Christ the Lord and of his Spouse, the Holy Church, ask you all to never tire of being merciful. You are in the confessional to forgive, not to condemn! Imitate the Father who never tires of forgiving. With Chrism oil you will comfort the sick; in celebrating the sacred rites and raising up the prayer of praise and supplication at various hours of the day, you will become the voice of the People of God and of all humanity.
Sometimes being configured to Christ can mean for a priest that, like Jesus himself, he is called to the extent of living those same words in his own life, The bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh. One such priest was Fr William Doyle SJ whose was killed on 16 August 1917.
Here is an account of the death of Fr Doyle, which took place in Belgium during the Battle of Passchendaele, also known as The Third Battle of Ypres, from the biography by Alfred O'Rahilly, a university professor who later became a priest:
Fr. Doyle had been engaged from early morning in the front line, cheering and consoling his men, and attending to the many wounded. Soon after 3 p.m. he made his way back to the Regimental Aid Post which was in charge of a Corporal Raitt, the doctor having gone back to the rear some hours before. Whilst here word came in that an officer of the Dublins [editor's note: Royal Dublin Fusiliers, known as the 'The Dubs'] had been badly hit, and was lying out in an exposed position. Fr. Doyle at once decided to go out to him, and left the Aid Post with his runner, Private Mclnespie, and a Lieutenant Grant. Some twenty minutes later, at about a quarter to four, Mclnespie staggered into the Aid Post and fell down in a state of collapse from shell shock. Corporal Raitt went to his assistance and after considerable difficulty managed to revive him. His first words on coming back to consciousness were: “Fr. Doyle has been killed!” Then bit by bit the whole story was told. Fr. Doyle had found the wounded officer lying far out in a shell crater. He crawled out to him, absolved and anointed him, and then, half dragging, half carrying the dying man, managed to get him within the line. Three officers came up at this moment, and Mclnespie was sent for some water. This he got and was handing it to Fr. Doyle when a shell burst in the midst of the group, killing Fr. Doyle and the three officers instantaneously, and hurling Mclnespie violently to the ground. Later in the day some of the Dublins when retiring came across the bodies of all four. Recognising Fr. Doyle, they placed him and a Private Meehan, whom they were carrying back dead, behind a portion of the Frezenberg Redoubt and covered the bodies with sods and stones.
O'Rahilly
gives an account of the last Christmas Midnight Mass that Fr Doyle would
celebrate, an account that shows the Irish Jesuit carrying out two of the
responsibilities that Pope Francis spoke about in his homily above to those he
was about to ordain: especially to celebrate the Lord’s Sacrifice and Through
the Sacrament of Penance . . . to never tire of being merciful.
Fr. Doyle got permission from General
Hickie to have Midnight Mass for his men in the Convent. The chapel was a fine
large one, as in pre-war times over three hundred boarders and orphans were resident
in the Convent; and by opening folding-doors the refectory was added to the
chapel and thus doubled the available room. An hour before Mass every inch of
space was filled, even inside the altar rails and in the corridor, while
numbers had to remain in the open. Word had in fact gone round about the Mass,
and men from other battalions came to hear it, some having walked several miles
from another village.
Before the Mass there was strenuous Confession-work. “We were kept hard at work hearing confessions all the evening till nine o’clock” writes Fr. Doyle, “the sort of Confessions you would like, the real serious business, no nonsense and no trimmings. As I was leaving the village church, a big soldier stopped me to know, like our Gardiner Street [editor's note: where the Jesuit church in Dublin is located] friend, ‘if the Fathers would be sittin’ any more that night.’ He was soon polished off, poor chap, and then insisted on escorting me home. He was one of my old boys, and having had a couple of glasses of beer — ‘It wouldn’t scratch the back of your throat, Father, that French stuff’ — was in the mood to be complimentary. ‘We miss you sorely, Father, in the battalion’, he said, ‘we do be always talking about you’. Then in a tone of great confidence: ‘Look, Father, there isn’t a man who wouldn’t give the whole of the world, if he had it, for your little toe! That’s the truth’. The poor fellow meant well, but ‘the stuff that would not scratch his throat’ certainly helped his imagination and eloquence.
I reached the Convent a bit tired, intending to have a rest before Mass, but found a string of the boys awaiting my arrival, determined that they at least would not be left out in the cold. I was kept hard at it hearing Confessions till the stroke of twelve and seldom had a more fruitful or consoling couple of hours’ work, the love of the little Babe of Bethlehem softening hearts which all the terrors of war had failed to touch.”
The Mass itself was a great success and brought consolation and spiritual peace to many a war-weary exile. This is what Fr. Doyle says:
“I sang the Mass, the girls’ choir doing the needful. One of the Tommies [editor's note: 'Tommy' was the generic nickname for the ordinary soldier in the British Army], from Dolphin’s Barn [an area in Dublin city], sang the Adeste beautifully with just a touch of the sweet Dublin accent to remind us of home, sweet home, the whole congregation joining in the chorus. It was a curious contrast: the chapel packed with men and officers, almost strangely quiet and reverent (the nuns were particularly struck by this), praying .and singing most devoutly, while the big tears ran down many a rough cheek: outside the cannon boomed and the machine-guns spat out a hail of lead: peace and good will — hatred and bloodshed!
“It was a Midnight Mass none of us will ever forget. A good 500 men came to Holy Communion, so that I was more than rewarded for my work.”
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This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like the bread the fathers ate and died. Whoever feeds on this bread will live for ever (John 6:58).
Royal Irish Rifles at the Somme, France, July 1916
Six days before he was killed Father Willie wrote to his father about an incident in which he carried out another priestly responsibility mentioned by Pope Francis in his homily: With Chrism oil you will comfort the sick.
A sad morning as casualties were heavy and many men came in dreadfully wounded. One man was the bravest I ever met. He was in dreadful agony, for both legs had been blown off at the knee But never a complaint fell from his lips, even while they dressed his wounds, and he tried to make light of his injuries. Thank God, Father, he said, I am able to stick it out to the end. Is it not all for little Belgium? The Extreme Unction [the old name for the Sacrament of the Sick when it was usually given when a person was dying), as I have noticed time and again, eased his bodily pain. I am much better now and easier, God bless you, he said, as I left him to attend a dying man. He opened his eyes as I knelt beside him: Ah! Fr. Doyle, Fr. Doyle, he whispered faintly, and then motioned me to bend lower as if he had some message to give. As I did so, he put his two arms round my neck and kissed me. It was all the poor fellow could do to show his gratitude that he had not been left to die alone and that he would have the consolation of receiving the Last Sacraments before he went to God. Sitting a little way off I saw a hideous bleeding object, a man with his face smashed by a shell, with one if not both eyes torn out. He raised his head as I spoke. Is that the priest? Thank God, I am all right now. I took his blood-covered hands in mine as I searched his face for some whole spot on which to anoint him. I think I know better now why Pilate said Behold the Man when he showed our Lord to the people.
In the afternoon, while going my rounds, I was forced to take shelter in the dug-out of a young officer belonging to another regiment. For nearly two hours I was a prisoner and found out he was a Catholic from Dublin, and had been married just a month. Was this a chance visit, or did God send me there to prepare him for death, for I had not long left the spot when a shell burst and killed him? I carried his body out the next day and buried him in a shell hole, and once again I blessed that protecting Hand which had shielded me from his fate.
The trench warfare of World War I was a form of hell, where evil was present. But Jesus Christ the Risen Lord was present there too - and recognised by so many soldiers, particularly at the moment of death, through the presence of priests such as Fr Willie Doyle SJ, whose inspiring life I first learned about in kindergarten in the late 1940s. In celebrating Mass, in hearing confessions, in anointing dying soldiers, in burying those who had died in battle, priests were bringing hope and light, the hope and light that is Jesus himself, into the midst of an awful darkness. And in some cases these priests were called to be configured literally to the dying Christ so that they could say: the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.
Today please pray for all priests, without whom we could not have the Bread of Life.
GospelJohn 20:1-9(English Standard Version, Anglicised)
Now on the first day of the
week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw
that the stone had been taken away from the tomb.So she
ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus
loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we
do not know where they have laid him.”So Peter
went out with the other disciple, and they were going towards the tomb.Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran
Peter and reached the tomb first.And stooping to
look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in.Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw
the linen cloths lying there,and the face
cloth, which had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen cloths but
folded up in a place by itself.Then the other
disciple, who had reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and
believed;for as yet they did not understand
the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead.
Dear brothers and sisters! The risen Christ is journeying ahead of us towards the new heavens and the new earth (cf. Rev 21:1), in which we shall all finally live as one family, as sons and daughters of the same Father. He is with us until the end of time. Let us walk behind him, in this wounded world, singing Alleluia. In our hearts there is joy and sorrow, on our faces there are smiles and tears. Such is our earthly reality. But Christ is risen, he is alive and he walks with us. For this reason we sing and we walk, faithfully carrying out our task in this world with our gaze fixed on heaven.
Happy Easter to all of you!
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I have told the following story before here and on many other occasions, especially giving retreats. Each time I share it or recall it I experience the truth of Pope Benedict's words, Christ is risen, he is alive and he walks with us. I have also learned that persons with a deep, committed faith can sometimes be very fragile.
Forty-four years ago I spent part of a summer working in a suburban parish in the USA. One night at around 11 I did something I rarely did: make a late night phone call, and for no other reason than to say 'Hi'. I phoned a friend who was a teacher whom I had first met twelve years earlier when I was a young priest and she a generous, idealistic but confused 16-year-old. I'll call her 'Lily' since that flower is often associated with Easter in northern climes. Over the years I met 'Lily' very rarely as I was in the Philippines.
I was shocked when 'Lily' answered. Her speech was slurred. She told me she had taken an overdose of a drug prescribed for a serious illness she had. I told her I would come over immediately but she said she would not let me in. She lived on her own but near her parents, about thirty minutes from where I was. I took another priest with me.
'Lily', of course, let us in. We spent about three hours with her. I was satisfied that what she had taken wasn't enough to kill her and that she wouldn't do anything drastic in the meantime. I promised to return in the morning.
I spent most of the next two days with 'Lily'. I called her doctor and also phoned a helpline for those dealing with or attempting suicide.
I had seen 'Lily' grow in her faith over the years. After qualifying as a teacher she chose to teach in a parochial elementary school rather than in a public school, even though the salary was lower. She had a sense of mission. She came from a Catholic family but was aware since her childhood of her father's infidelity. But when she had attempted suicide when about 17 she saw her parents' great love for her, despite everything.
Yet it was something her mother said to her that had triggered off this latter attempt at suicide. 'Lily' felt that she wasn't living up to her mother's expectations. I think it was during the second morning I was with 'Lily' that she asked me, 'What are your expectations of me?' I answered, 'I don't have any expectations, only hopes'.
Hearing the word 'only hopes' was the turning point. That was when 'Lily' decided to live.
A few days later ‘Lily’ came
to the parish where I was working for confession and Mass and she was truly
filled with the joy that only the Lord can give. She also wrote me a long
letter - she was a wonderful letter-writer - about her experience.
In her letter 'Lily' said: I have come to learn more about myself - as a 'vulnerable' yet 'hopeful' person, and yet even more important - I feel that my relationship with the Lord has deepened. I have a deeper hunger to be united with Him on a more intimate and dependent level. Further on 'Lily' wrote: Most times we need to see and hear and feel Christ through another, to be able to believe in Him more faithfully and securely . . . I realize that years and years of therapy can amount to nothing unless the Lord is a very central part of it. I was able to share my fears, hurts, confusion, pain and - thank God - tears with you in and through the anointing of your priesthood . . .
'Lily'
died peacefully the following year having received the Last Sacraments and
ready to accept death at the age of 29. May she enjoy the fulness of the
Resurrection.
Jesus
is Risen
Flashmob,
Beirut, Lebanon
I have posted this video every Easter for some years. For me it is one of the most joyful
proclamations of the Resurrection I have ever come across. It is also a
reminder to us that most Christians in the Middle East, including Lebanon, are
Arabs whose language is Arabic, the language in which this Easter hymn is sung
by professional singers.
Traditional Latin Mass
Easter Sunday
The complete Mass in Latin and English is here. (Adjust the date at the top of that page to 03-31-2024 if necessary).
Let us, therefore, celebrate the festival, not with the old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth (1 Corinthians 5:8; Epistle).
Eucharist
