Da virtutis meritum,
da salutis exitum,
da perenne gaudium.
Amen. Alleluia.
Give them virtue's sure reward;
give them thy salvation, Lord;
give them joys that never end.
Amen. Alleluia.
Prayer
Come, O Holy Ghost, fill the hearts of Thy faithful, And enkindle in them the fire of Thy love.
V: Send forth Thy Spirit and they shall be created,
R:And Thou shalt renew the face of the earth.
Oh God, Who didst instruct the hearts of the faithful by the light of the Holy Ghost, grant us in the same Spirit to be truly wise and to ever rejoice in His consolations, through Jesus Christ Our Lord.
Amen.
(And so begins the season following The Mother Of All Novenas, the season known as Pentecost. To view the novena in its entirety, click here.)
Da tuis fidelibus
in te confidentibus
sacrum septenarium.
On the faithful, who adore
and confess thee, evermore
in thy sevenfold gift descend.
Meditation
The gifts of the Holy Ghost perfect the supernatural virtues by enabling us to practice them with greater docility to divine inspiration. As we grow in the knowledge and love of God under the direction of the Holy Ghost, our service becomes more sincere and generous, the practice of virtue more perfect. Such acts of virtue leave the heart filled with joy and consolation and are known as Fruits of the Holy Ghost. These fruits in turn render the practice of virtue more attractive and become a powerful incentive for still greater efforts in the service of God, to serve Whom is to reign.
Prayer
Come, O Divine Spirit, fill my heart with Thy heavenly fruits, Thy charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, faith, mildness, and temperance, that I may never weary in the service of God, but by continued faithful submission to Thy inspiration, may merit to be united eternally with Thee in the love of the Father and the Son. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(With this entry, so completes The Mother Of All Novenas. To see it as completed, click here.)
Flecte quod est rigidum,
fove quod est frigidum,
rege quod est devium.
Bend the stubborn heart and will;
melt the frozen, warm the chill;
guide the steps that go astray.
Meditation
Embodying all the other gifts, as charity embraces all other virtues, Wisdom is the most perfect of the gifts. Of wisdom it is written “all good things came to me with her, and innumerable riches through her hands.” It is the gift of Wisdom that strengthens our faith, fortifies hope, perfects charity, and promotes the practice of virtue in the highest degree. Wisdom enlightens the mind to discern and relish things divine, in the appreciation of which earthly joys lose their savor, whilst the Cross of Christ yields a divine sweetness according to the words of the Savior: “Take up thy cross and follow Me, for My yoke is sweet, and My burden light.”
Prayer
Come, O Spirit of Wisdom, and reveal to my soul the mysteries of heavenly things, their exceeding greatness, power and beauty. Teach me to love them above and beyond all passing joys and satisfactions of the earth. Help me to attain them and possess them for ever. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Lava quod est sordidum,
riga quod est aridum,
sana quod est saucium.
Heal our wounds, our strength renew;
on our dryness pour thy dew;
wash the stains of guilt away.
Meditation
The gift of Counsel endows the soul with supernatural prudence, enabling it to judge promptly and rightly what must be done, especially in difficult circumstances. Counsel applies the principles furnished by Knowledge and Understanding to the innumerable concrete cases that confront us in the course of our daily duty as parents, teachers, public servants and Christian citizens. Counsel is supernatural common sense, a priceless treasure in the quest of salvation. “Above all these things, pray to the Most High, that He may direct thy way in truth.”
Prayer
Come, O Spirit of Counsel, help and guide me in all my ways, that I may always do Thy holy will. Incline my heart to that which is good; turn it away from all that is evil, and direct me by the straight path of Thy commandments to that goal of eternal life for which I long. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Sine tuo numine
nihil est in homine,
nihil est innoxium.
Where thou art not, man hath naught,
nothing good in deed or thought,
nothing free from taint of ill.
Meditation
Understanding, as a gift of the Holy Ghost, helps us to grasp the meaning of the truths of our holy religion. By faith we know them, but by Understanding we learn to appreciate and relish them. It enables us to penetrate the inner meaning of revealed truths and through them to be quickened to newness of life. Our faith ceases to be sterile and inactive, but inspires a mode of life that bears eloquent testimony to the faith that is in us; we begin to “walk worthy of God in all things pleasing, and increasing in the knowledge of God.”
Prayer
Come, O Spirit of Understanding, and enlighten our minds, that we may know and believe all the mysteries of salvation; and may merit at last to see the eternal light in Thy light; and in the light of glory to have a clear vision of Thee and the Father and the Son. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
O lux beatissima,
reple cordis intima
tuorum fidelium.
O most blessed Light divine,
shine within these hearts of thine,
and our inmost being fill!
Meditation
The gift of Knowledge enables the soul to evaluate created things at their true worth -- in relation to God. Knowledge unmasks the pretense of creatures, reveals their emptiness, and points out their only true purpose as instruments in the service of God. It shows us the loving care of God even in adversity, and directs us to glorify Him in every circumstance of life. Guided by its light, we put first things first, and prize the friendship of God beyond all else. “Knowledge is a fountain of life to him that possesseth it.”
Prayer
Come, O Blessed Spirit of Knowledge, and grant that I may perceive the will of the Father; show me the nothingness of earthly things, that I may realize their vanity and use them only for Thy glory and my own salvation, looking ever beyond them to Thee, and Thy eternal rewards. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
In labore requies,
in aestu temperies,
in fletu solacium.
In our labor, rest most sweet;
grateful coolness in the heat;
solace in the midst of woe.
Meditation
By the gift of Fortitude, the soul is strengthened against natural fear, and supported to the end in the performance of duty. Fortitude imparts to the will an impulse and energy which move it to undertake without hesitancy the most arduous tasks, to face dangers, to trample under foot human respect, and to endure without complaint the slow martyrdom of even lifelong tribulation. “He that shall persevere unto the end, he shall be saved.”
Prayer
Come, O Blessed Spirit of Fortitude, uphold my soul in times of trouble and adversity, sustain my efforts after holiness, strengthen my weakness, give me courage against all the assaults of my enemies, that I may never be overcome and separated from Thee, my God and greatest Good. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Thou, of comforters the best;
thou, the soul's most welcome guest;
sweet refreshment here below.
Meditation
The gift of Piety begets in our hearts a filial affection for God as our most loving Father. It inspires us to love and respect for His sake persons and things consecrated to Him, as well as those who are vested with His authority, His Blessed Mother and the Saints, the Church and its visible Head, our parents and superiors, our country and its rulers. He who is filled with the gift of Piety finds the practice of his religion, not a burdensome duty, but a delightful service. Where there is love, there is no labor.
Prayer
Come, O Blessed Spirit of Piety, possess my heart. Enkindle therein such a love for God, that I may find satisfaction only in His service, and for His sake lovingly submit to all legitimate authority. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Veni pater pauperum,
veni dator munerum,
veni lumen cordium.
Come, thou Father of the poor!
Come, thou Source of all our store!
Come, within our bosoms shine!
Meditation
The gift of Fear fills us with a sovereign respect for God, and makes us dread nothing so much as to offend Him by Sin. It is a fear that arises, not from the thought of hell, but from sentiments of reverence and filial submission to our heavenly Father. It is the fear that is the beginning of wisdom, detaching us from worldly pleasures that could in any way separate us from God. “They that fear the Lord will prepare their hearts, and in His sight will sanctify their souls.”
Prayer
Come, O blessed Spirit of Holy Fear, penetrate my inmost heart, that I may set Thee, my Lord and God, before my face forever; help me to shun all things that can offend Thee, and make me worthy to appear before the pure eyes of Thy Divine Majesty in heaven, where Thou livest and reignest in the unity of the ever Blessed Trinity, God world without end. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Veni Sancte Spiritus
et emitte caelitus
lucis tuae radium.
Come, thou Holy Spirit, come,
and from thy celestial home
shed a ray of light divine!
Meditation
Only one thing is important -- eternal salvation. Only one thing, therefore, is to be feared -- sin. Sin is the result of ignorance, weakness, and indifference. The Holy Ghost is the Spirit of Light, of Strength, and of Love. With His sevenfold gifts, He enlightens the mind, strengthens the will, and inflames the heart with love of God. To ensure our salvation, we ought to invoke the Divine Spirit daily, for “The Spirit helpeth our infirmity. We know not what we should pray for as we ought. But the Spirit Himself asketh for us.”
Prayer
Almighty and eternal God, Who hast vouchsafed to regenerate us by water and the Holy Ghost, and hast given us forgiveness of all our sins, vouchsafe to send forth from heaven upon us Thy sevenfold Spirit, the Spirit of Wisdom and Understanding, the Spirit of Counsel and Fortitude, the Spirit of Knowledge and Piety, and fill us with the Spirit of Holy Fear. Amen.
Our Father ... Hail Mary ... Glory Be ...
As a final note for today, we here at man with black hat just found this precious little gem. In this 1999 recording on the Eternal Word Television Network (EWTN), the late great Mother Angelica explains (among other things) these gifts for us, as only she can, before a live studio audience. Her cause for sainthood is in its very early stages, and she is missed by so many here on Earth below, including yours truly.
(Our thanks to Soulpacifica for the lovely images personifying the gifts of the Holy Spirit, which are to appear in this series with her appreciation, for which this writer is grateful. To see the novena as completed to the present, click here.)
Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who is to be taken up from you into heaven had to re-schedule his departure to the following Sunday in order to accomodate the busy schedules of the faithful. Now, get back to work.
(Acts 1:11, dynamic equivalent translation)
TOMORROW, the Church, both in the East and the West, celebrates the Feast of the Ascension of Our Lord. It is when Christ ascended into Heaven forty days after He rose from the dead.
Then again ...
Some years ago, this writer found a pamphlet from the Knights of Columbus, where it mentioned this feast as when Christ ascended into Heaven "43 days" after raising from the dead. No kidding, it actually aid that. And there's a (really bad) reason.
In most provinces of the United States, and in some countries throughout the world, the Feast has been moved to the following Sunday. We could just leave well enough alone, and transfer the obligation itself to the Sunday within the octave of the Feast (traditionally known as an "external solemnity"), but the Western church got rid of many of its octaves in the mid-1950s, and a few more since then. You'd have to explain to people what an octave is, and that is such a pain. So unless you attend the Traditional Mass or an Eastern Rite Divine Liturgy today, in which case the aforementioned silliness does not apply, tomorrow will be remembered as just another Easter weekday.
If only they put the right spin on it, in which case it would go something like this:
“Most biblical scholars agree that Jesus ascended into Heaven forty-three days after He rose from the dead, not forty days as previously believed. The number of forty was arrived at by the end of the third century, to make it easier for the early Christians to count the days after Easter on their fingers and toes and double the total. But we’re so much more sophisticated now, and we can use calculators to count that high, or have our smartphones remind us.”
Maybe they can get the Knights of Columbus to publish it. Hah!
Whether or not we would fall for that, moving a Feast Day to a Sunday because we're all too damn lazy to go to church on a weekday (or a weeknight) makes about as much sense.
+ + +
But suppose that sacred time actually mattered, in which case it would go something like this:
The Church was born on the Jewish feast of the Pentecost. After the ascension of Christ into heaven, a group which, according to tradition, numbered about 120, remained sequestered in the Upper Room for nine days, awaiting the inspiration of the Holy Spirit.
They returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day's journey away; and when they had entered, they went up to the upper room, where they were staying, Peter and John and James and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alphaeus and Simon the Zealot and Judas the son of James. All these with one accord devoted themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers. (Acts 1:12-14)
Thus the birth of our Holy Mother the Church was preceded by a novena.
In 1897, Pope Leo XIII mandated a codified edition of the first novena, in his decree Divinum Illud Munus:
"Wherefore, We decree and command that throughout the whole Catholic Church, this year and in every subsequent year, a Novena shall take place before Whit-Sunday [Pentecost], in all parish churches, and also, if the local Ordinaries think fit, in other churches and oratories."
And so, we here at man with black hat will present this special edition of the Mother Of All Novenas, that which is devoted to the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, over the next nine days. Stay tuned ...
IMAGE: Lon Chaney as Quasimodo, Patsy Ruth Miller as Esmeralda in the 1923 film, The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Today is known on the Christian calendar by at least six names.
In the traditional Missale Romanum, it is referred to as “Dominica in albis octava Paschae” -- Sunday in White Within the Paschal Octave, when the robes of the neophytes were removed eight days after their initiation into the Sacraments during the Paschal Vigil. It is also known as “The Octave Day of Easter” or more colloquially as “Low Sunday.” It has also been popularly known as “Quasimodo Sunday” (my personal favorite, hence the title), after the first words of the Entrance Antiphon, or Introit: “Quasi modo geniti infantes, alleluia ...” (“Like newborn infants, alleluia ...”) In the churches of the East, it is known as “Thomas Sunday” as the same gospel is read as in the West, that of our Lord showing himself to the doubting apostle Thomas.
Since 2000, by decree of the late Pope Saint John Paul II, it is also known in the universal Roman calendar as Divine Mercy Sunday, "the culmination of the novena to the Divine Mercy of Jesus, a devotion given to St Faustina (Mary Faustina Kowalska) and is based upon an entry in her diary stating that anyone who participates in the Mass and receives the sacraments of Confession and the Eucharist on this day is assured by Jesus of full remission of their sins." (from Wikipedia)
(I thought the Sacrament of Confession did that regardless of the time of year. This is what I get for using Wikipedia for an explanation.)
This brings up an issue which concerns some traditional Catholics, one that is presented in a 2010 issue of New Oxford Review by Robert Allard: "Is Divine Mercy Sunday Liturgically Correct?"
There's also that part about Our Lord breathing on the apostles, giving them the power of the Holy Spirit to forgive sins. There's a bit of mercy for the rest of us right there.
The crux of the concern, is that this feast day is mandated in its timing, on the basis of a private revelation, which in and of itself is not supposed to be binding on the faithful.
Such devotions, to the extent that they would coexist with the liturgical year, must harmonize with it if they are to truly edify the faithful. This requires sufficient deference to the history of salvation as played out during the year, beginning with the incarnation, and continuing with the life, passion, death, and resurrection of our Lord, followed by his ascension into Glory, and the establishment of His Church on Earth through the work of the Holy Spirit.
That said, there is an aspect of this devotion that may appear problematic, one that has less to do with the Feast itself, than with the novena which precedes it, one that begins on Holy Thursday, and extends throughout the Octave of Easter.
This response contradicts itself. It claims that the timing of the Novena dies not "supersede" the Triduum, and then goes on to ignore its culmination. And yet, superseding is exactly what it attempts.
For nearly two millennia, the Easter season, including the Octave, has been devoted to the celebration of the Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Under the 1983 Code of Canon Law, the traditional requirement to abstain from meat does not apply on the Friday of this octave -- somebody just has to have a burger today -- such is the magnitude of the occasion. The Fathers of the Church have told us, we have commemorated the fast, therefore let us celebrate the feast. Yet the novena is devoted to chanting thus: “For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.”
Granted, at every Mass offered on any given day, we remember the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ -- the whole nine yards. But that comparison ends in the context of the liturgical seasons, the purpose of which is to shed a spotlight on a particular aspect of salvation history at the liturgical year progresses. There is sufficient reason to doubt that the emphasis made by this novena, given its timing, sheds that spotlight appropriately, even if we reduce it to a mere devotion (as opposed to the official prayer of the Church through her liturgical life).
If we read the history of the development of this Feast that is the Sunday within the Octave of Easter, if we understand what the readings and the orations are trying to tell us, we might consider the possibility that Our Lord was telling Sister Faustina something of Himself, which He has been trying to say to His Bride, our Mother the Church, all along. At the same time, She has long admonished us to be prudent with respect to the messages of private revelations. (See the Catechism of the Catholic Church, 65-67).
For anyone to show up one day and say "Jesus told me he wants this" flies in the face of the Catholic belief that all public revelation ended with the death of the last apostle.
While accepting the judgment of the Apostolic See in this matter of the Sunday commemoration itself, we may wish to re-examine this devotion in relation to the whole of the liturgical year. Even if the novena is not a liturgical act in the official sense, its use in parishes during the octave of the Resurrection misses the big picture, which is ...
“We have commemorated the fast, therefore let us celebrate the feast.”
... for eight days, if not forty, and if you don't mind.
+ + +
To learn more about the devotion to the Divine Mercy, visit the website of the Apostles of Divine Mercy at DivineMercySunday.com, or that of the Marians of the Immaculate Conception at TheDivineMercy.org.
It was on an Easter Sunday,
and all in the morning,
Our Savior arose,
and our heavenly King.
The sun and the moon,
they both did rise
with him,
And sweet Jesus
we’ll call him by name.
+ + +
An Easter Homily of Saint John Chrysostom
Is there anyone who is a devout lover of God? Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival! Is there anyone who is a grateful servant? Let them rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord!
Are there any weary with fasting? Let them now receive their wages! If any have toiled from the first hour, let them receive their due reward; If any have come after the third hour, let him with gratitude join in the Feast! And he that arrived after the sixth hour, let him not doubt; for he too shall sustain no loss. And if any delayed until the ninth hour, let him not hesitate; but let him come too. And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour, let him not be afraid by reason of his delay.
For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first. He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, as well as to him that toiled from the first. To this one He gives, and upon another He bestows. He accepts the works as He greets the endeavor. The deed He honors and the intention He commends.
Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord! First and last alike receive your reward; rich and poor, rejoice together! Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!
You that have kept the fast, and you that have not, rejoice today for the Table is richly laden! Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one. Let no one go away hungry. Partake, all, of the cup of faith. Enjoy all the riches of His goodness!
Let no one grieve at his poverty, for the universal kingdom has been revealed. Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; for forgiveness has risen from the grave. Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free. He has destroyed it by enduring it.
He destroyed Hades when He descended into it. He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh. Isaias foretold this when he said, "You, O Hell, have been troubled by encountering Him below."
Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with.
It was in an uproar because it is mocked.
It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed.
It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated.
It is in an uproar, for it is now made captive.
Hell took a body, and discovered God.
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see.
O death, where is thy sting?
O Hades, where is thy victory?
Christ is Risen, and you, O death, are annihilated!
Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!
Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!
Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead; for Christ having risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
A Homily on the Lord’s Descent into Hell Saint Epiphanius, Bishop of Cyprus (AD 403)
SOMETHING strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and he has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.
He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, he has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, he who is both God and the son of Eve.
The Lord approached them bearing the Cross, the weapon that had won him the victory. At the sight of him Adam, the first man he had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: ‘My Lord be with you all’. Christ answered him: ‘And with your spirit’. He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light’.
‘I am your God, who for your sake has become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by my own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in my image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
‘For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
‘See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in my image. On my back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See my hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
‘I slept on the Cross and a sword pierced my side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
‘Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you. I appointed cherubim to guard you as slaves are guarded, but now I make them worship you as God. The throne formed by cherubim awaits you, its bearers swift and eager. The bridal chamber is adorned, the banquet is ready, the eternal dwelling places are prepared, the treasure houses of all good things lie open. The kingdom of heaven has been prepared for you from all eternity.’
It was on a good Friday,
and all in the morning,
They crucified our Savior,
and our heavenly King.
And was not this
a woeful thing
And sweet Jesus,
we’ll call him by name.
From "the third hour" until "the sixth hour." From sext to none. From noon until three in the afternoon. Scripture tells us that our Lord was dying on the cross at this time, culminating in the words “Consummatum Est” (“It is finished”).
+ + +
When we were kids growing up in Ohio, we would either go to church for Stations of the Cross or some related devotion, or if we were at home, Mom would turn the radio off, and we were told to be quieter than usual. Thus did we mark the consummation of the ultimate act of sacrificial Love, that of the Bridegroom for His bride.
PHOTO: Gail Deibler Finke
Elsewhere in Cincinnati, a venerable custom of over a century and a half still takes place on this day.
In December 1860, a Catholic church was completed on a bluff atop Mount Adams, overlooking the central city from the east, and dedicated to the Blessed Virgin Mary. Since the hill was too steep for a horse-and-buggy, there were a series of wooden steps built as well, leading from St Gregory Street near the river, all the way to the church entrance. The following spring saw the start of the War Between The States, and Immaculata Church became the site of devout Catholics praying the rosary for peace while climbing the steps to its entrance.
Even today, the tradition continues, as every year on Good Friday (a day when it invariably rains), an estimated ten thousand pilgrims climb the 85 steps -- the wooden ones having since been replaced by concrete -- leading to the entrance. The procession begins at midnight, with the parish priest's blessing of the steps, and continues for twenty-four hours.
The legacy of “St Mary’s of the Steps” can be found at the parish website.
Finally, and for what it's worth, the New York Stock exchange closes on this day. Even in the heart of Mammon, some things are still sacred, don't you think?
It was on a
maundy Thursday,
and all in the morning,
They planted
a crown of thorns
on our heavenly King.
And was not this
a woeful thing,
And sweet Jesus
we'll call him by name.
Today begins the Sacred Triduum. For many years, I would take this day and the next off from work. Sometimes I go to church to pray the Tenebrae of Holy Week. Some years I have served at the altar for the Mass of the Day, but nobody wants a seventy-year-old altar boy -- with one exception (more on that later).
Be that as it may, for a Catholic, as much as some try to deny it, the next three days are not business as usual. The whole of human history -- before, during, after -- turns on the events we remember this week. Our meditation is from a poem by Jalaludin Rumi. It is translated by Coleman Barks and John Moyne, with music by David Wilcox and Nance Pettit, and is produced by Bob Carlton.
It was on a Holy Wednesday,
and all in the morning
When Judas betrayed
our dear heavenly King.
And was not this
a woeful thing,
And sweet Jesus,
we'll call him by name.
This day in Holy Week is known among Western Christians by the above title (or among Christians in the East, Μεγάλη Τετάρτη), as tradition commemorates this day for when Judas Iscariot conspired with the Sanhedrin to betray Our Lord, in exchange for thirty pieces of silver (Matthew 26:15).
Was that a lot of money in those days?
The term in the original language, "arguria," simply means "silver coins." Historians disagree as to what form of currency is described. They could have been either staters from Antioch, tetradrachms from Ptolemy, or shekels from Tyre. (Nothing about Greek drachmas, which were either bronze, copper, or iron. Just so we're clear on that.)
Closer to the present, it is also when we here at man with black hat (more or less) interrupt our usual day-to-day routine (such as it is) in order to focus on the Main Event for the several days that follow.
Palm Sunday, St Luke's Parish (Anglican Use) at St Ignatius Church, Oxon Hill MD, 10 April 2022.
Let us go together to meet Christ on the Mount of Olives.
Today he returns from Bethany and proceeds of his own free will toward his holy and blessed passion, to consummate the mystery of our salvation. He who came down from heaven to raise us from the depths of sin, to raise us with himself, we are told in Scripture, above every sovereignty, authority and power, and every other name that can be named, now comes of his own free will to make his journey to Jerusalem. He comes without pomp or ostentation. As the psalmist says: He will not dispute or raise his voice to make it heard in the streets. He will be meek and humble, and he will make his entry in simplicity.
Let us run to accompany him as he hastens toward his passion, and imitate those who met him then, not by covering his path with garments, olive branches or palms, but by doing all we can to prostrate ourselves before him by being humble and by trying to live as he would wish. Then we shall be able to receive the Word at his coming, and God, whom no limits can contain, will be within us.
Palm Sunday 2009, at St John the Beloved Church, McLean, Virginia.
In his humility Christ entered the dark regions of our fallen world and he is glad that he became so humble for our sake, glad that he came and lived among us and shared in our nature in order to raise us up again to himself. And even though we are told that he has now ascended above the highest heavens – the proof, surely, of his power and godhead – his love for man will never rest until he has raised our earthbound nature from glory to glory, and made it one with his own in heaven.
A song I heard the organist play and sing in my parish church when I was a boy.
So let us spread before his feet, not garments or soulless olive branches, which delight the eye for a few hours and then wither, but ourselves, clothed in his grace, or rather, clothed completely in him. We who have been baptized into Christ must ourselves be the garments that we spread before him. Now that the crimson stains of our sins have been washed away in the saving waters of baptism and we have become white as pure wool, let us present the conqueror of death, not with mere branches of palms but with the real rewards of his victory. Let our souls take the place of the welcoming branches as we join today in the children’s holy song: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the king of Israel.
Today the Church celebrates the feast of Saint Patrick (387-493), the patron saint of Ireland. It is on the Emerald Isle that today is both a national and religious holiday. At one time, the bars would close and the churches would be full out of obligation. Only in recent years has the feast seen a more rebellious spirit, complete with parades and green beer (not to mention green hair). Naturally (if ironically), they have the Americans to thank for this.
And, since the feast usually takes place during Lent, there are times such as shown above, when some of us are permitted on a day of abstinence to indulge a wee bit more than others.
+ + +
Growing up in a postwar Catholic environment, those of us who attended the parish schools in the United States, were taught that there were two kinds of people; those who were Irish, and those who wish they were. My own family appeared to fall into neither category. There were the Irish nuns who favored the Irish kids, including the unforgettable Sister Mary Mel (yes, her real name), who wasn't above calling some miscreant a "jackass" (including my kid brother, as evesdropping on a phone call with Mom gave away).
But hey, at least she was colorful.
The rest of all things that were allegedly Irish were just so much blarney. I came to dismiss the whole notion of St Paddy's Day -- indeed, the whole notion of being Irish -- as a license for certain people to be more arrogant and obnoxious than they already were.
Eventually I went to college, where I discovered Irish music. I mean the real thing, not the over-romanticized "Christmas-in-Killarney-on-St-Patrick's-in-June" that passed itself off as genuine the whole time, and I couldn't get enough of it. I used to watch the Saint Patrick's Day parade in Cincinnati, which included the carrying of the statue of the Saint, which the local chapter of the Ancient Order of Hibernians would "steal" in the middle of night, from what was once the German parish in Mount Adams. (Long story.) There was also the local Irish dance school, with boys and girls who never imagined that, decades later, they could do it for fame and fortune in shows like "Riverdance."
Who knew?
By the end of the 1970s I spent Sunday evenings working at a coffeehouse, and I helped broker a deal that brought Clannad to Cincinnati on their first American tour. I even gave harpist/vocalist Máire Brennan (pronounced MOY-uh) a ride back to where she was staying. Otherwise shy and aloof, I got her to laugh at my jokes. That seemed to matter at the time.
I saw Máire again in 1987, in a music video on VH1, for a song entitled "Something to Believe In." She was also the haunting voice in the Volkswagen commercials. Naturally she's world-famous now, and probably wouldn't return my calls, although she did write me a long and possibly heartfelt note when she autographed my copy of their album. I say "possibly" because it was in Gaelic, so I'll never know for sure, especially since it was among my collection that was stolen from my apartment in Georgetown back in 1994.
(Bob, if you're reading this, tell your rich white trash buddies that I'd really like to have it back. And before you get your boxers in a bunch, the neighbors all thought YOU did it!)
Máire also came out with a book in 2001 entitled "The Other Side of the Rainbow." She continues to tour and so on, but I knew her when.
(Sigh ...) Anyway, back to the '70s.
While the whole world (including my now-beloved Celia on the other side of it) was going bananas over disco, the feast became an annual ritual, of spending most of the accompanying weekend hanging out at Hap's Irish Pub in the Hyde Park section of Cincinnati, or at Arnold's Bar and Grill downtown. Even when I moved to Washington in 1980, I learned Irish dancing (if not quite what appears in the above video), Irish folk tales, and the like. But the upscale bars in the Nation's capital weren't as quaint as the neighborhood pubs in my old hometown. I was under no illusions that this heritage was one that I could claim for my own.
In 1982, that claim became even more elusive. I married a girl whose grandparents came over from Slovakia, and who grew up hearing Slovak around the house. This pretty much killed any enthusiasm for all things Irish around our house.
You see, I learned a piece of American Catholic history that the mostly Irish-American church historians didn't exactly wear on their sleeves.
By the time eastern Europeans came to America in the late 19th and early 20th century, the Irish were already the big fish in the little blue-collar pond, and didn't mind letting the "Hunkies" in the coal towns and factory neighborhoods know it. Going up the food chain, it got worse. Catholics of Eastern Rites -- with customs and liturgy similar to the Orthodox, but in communion with Rome -- had married priests. The mostly-Irish bishops assumed they were either schismatics, or worse. Their wives were barred from treatment in Catholic hospitals, and their children were barred from Catholic schools. Confused as these bishops were, they concluded that the faithful would be even more confused by the presence of married Catholic priests. Thus, by the 1920s, The (Irish-)American bishops pressured Rome to bar the (legitimately) married priests from coming to America, let alone ministering.
It has been shown that most of the growth of Eastern Orthodoxy in North America can be attributed to the damned ignorance of the (Irish-)American bishops of the time. (Hey, Mickey, nice work!)
This latency towards all things Irish got a reprieve when the marriage tanked in 1992. Then one night -- it was about 1998, as I remember -- I was interviewed for a writing job by a priest who edited a major Catholic periodical. A native of Dublin, he reminded me of what really mattered:
“Patrick was not Irish, and on his Feast Day, we do not celebrate being Irish; we celebrate being Catholic.”
I knew that the Alexanders came from a small town near Verdun, in the Lorraine province of northeastern France. But in recent years we learned that, before the 18th century, the Alexandre line was expatriated from Scotland, a result of the Rebellion when England overtook them. I was also to learn that the man known by the Roman name of Maganus Sucatus (Maewyn Succat in Gaelic) was of a Roman family, born in Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton, in that part of Great Britain that is now Scotland.
Sooooo ... if not being Irish were not enough, Patricius (in modern English, Patrick) -- as he was known in later years, being of the Roman "patrician" class, and a "patriarch" to his spiritual charges -- might just as easily be claimed by the Scots as one of their own.
For years, one highlight of the day would be the Annual Irish Poetry Reading. That was when I'd call my folks in Ohio on this day every year, and with their speakerphone on, recite the following piece by Benjamin Hapgood Burt in a very bad Irish brogue:
One evening in October, when I was one-third sober,
An' taking home a "load" with manly pride;
My poor feet began to stutter, so I lay down in the gutter,
And a pig came up an' lay down by my side;
Then we sang "It's all fair weather when good fellows get together,"
Till a lady passing by was heard to say:
"You can tell a man who 'boozes' by the company he chooses"
And the pig got up and slowly walked away.
Since then, both have entered into eternity, most likely with better things to do.
Today, those who are Irish, who wish they were, or who don't give a rat's arse either way, will dine on Irish lamb stew. When I can ever find it amidst my stuff, I use this occasion to wear a button with the words of William Butler Yeats: “I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree.” Usually, I listen to Celtic music the entire day, and at an opportune time and place, I dine on corned beef and cabbage. This is admittedly an American innovation for the Irish, as poor immigrants from the "auld sod" found corned beef (a substitute used by their Jewish neighbors in place of bacon) to be much cheaper than lamb.
Then about eight or nine years ago, I got lucky, because right down the street from me, they opened an Irish pub. It seems that three Thai restaurants within a half mile of each other was one too many, and the one closest to me was replaced with the watering hole of my dreams. The Celtic House is situated on the corner of Columbia Pike and South Barton Street, right on the corner, a mere five-or-ten-minute walk away from my home on South Barton. Sometime today I'm making a point of being there, as if my fond memories of discovering real Irish culture have come full circle. True, it's not as small and crowded as Hap's Irish Pub in Hyde Park, not nearly as weather-beaten as Arnold's downtown, and they won't be selling raffle tickets for NORAID under the table, but I can ignore that long enough to enjoy a lamb stew.
I'll also probably watch Mel Gibson in Braveheart later tonight, while enjoying a Guinness float (which is like a root beer float, except you have Guinness, right?). Who cares if William Wallace was Scottish? No one cares if Patrick isn't Irish, do they? After all, "The Apostle of Ireland" is properly claimed by Catholics everywhere, whether a bunch of Micks care to admit it or not.
“When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord.” (Luke 2:22-24)
Today, both the Eastern and Western churches observe the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary (known as "Candlemas" in the West), and traditionally cited as the fortieth day of Christmas. (Yes, I counted them the other day, and with Christmas itself as Day 1, this is Day 40.) In the Catholic tradition, the Christmas Cycle officially ends with this day, and preparation for Lent can begin, which includes the "Carnival" season in much of South America. But today, and throughout the world, the faithful will process in and around their churches bearing lighted candles, which are blessed for the coming year.
It's on a Sunday, which should make it easier, don't you think?
Or don't you?
+ + +
The origin of this feast is described in detail, in this excerpt from the classic work of Dom Prosper Guéranger, OSB, entitled The Liturgical Year.
The mystery of today's ceremony has frequently been explained by liturgists, dating from the 7th century. According to Ivo of Chartres, the wax, which is formed from the juice of flowers by the bee, always considered as the emblem of virginity, signifies the virginal flesh of the Divine Infant, who diminished not, either by His conception or His birth, the spotless purity of His Blessed Mother. The same holy bishop would have us see, in the flame of our Candle, a symbol of Jesus who came to enlighten our darkness. St Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, speaking on the same mystery, bids us consider three things in the blessed Candle: the wax, the wick, and the flame. The wax, he says, which is the production of the virginal bee, is the Flesh of our Lord; the wick, which is within, is His Soul; the flame, which burns on top, is His divinity.
In Catholic Europe, especially in Germany where the practice originated, this feat of prediction was ascribed to German badgers. But since badgers are not found in the eastern United States, German immigrants to this country were obliged to depend for meteorological guidance on a species of marmot called by the Indians "weejak" or woodchuck, also known as ... a groundhog. This year's formality is depicted here, courtesy of WKYC Channel 3.
After all, he sort of looks like a badger, right? And he even sticks his head out to check the weather.
Today begins the lunar new year in China -- to be more exact, “The Year of the Snake.” The title for this entry is what they are saying in the Philippines (where the occasion is known as "Bagong Taong Tsino"), as well as in any country with a large Chinese population, not to mention Chinatowns all over the world.
+ + +
My beloved Celia is one-eighth Cantonese, and so the above title is the traditional greeting in that language, as opposed to the more common Mandarin, so the former is the one I'd hear around the house, as opposed to the latter. Meanwhile, learn more than you could possibly want to know about the occasion on Wikipedia.
I took my son Paul to his first "dragon festival" in DC's Chinatown back in 1987. He was one and a half years old, and fit right in with his bright red snowsuit. Such would be the culmination of a fifteen-day celebration that begins today (or yesterday, depending on your side of the planet).
Oh, and there's one more thing.
The video clip at the top was taken at the National Building Museum back in 2007 with a phone camera. That was the Year of the Pig, but at least a dragon showed up. Obviously camera phones have come a long way since then, don't you think?
As this is published, the Honorable Donald John Trump is being sworn in as the Forty-Seventh President of the United States. Most of you will be glued to your screens to watch the formalities, even those who came from out of town to see it before it got moved indoors (for the first time since Reagan's second inauguration forty years earlier).
I remember the first time I met Donald Trump -- well, sort of.
Along the stretch of Pennsylvania Avenue, in Washington DC, is the Old Post Office and Clock Tower. Construction began in 1892, and was completed in 1899, and was the main post office in the Nation's capital until 1914. In recent years, after being saved from near destruction, the government made numerous attempts to find a sustaining purpose for the building. None seemed to work.
Then in 2013, Donald Trump wanted a hotel in the heart of the city. And he wanted it to make one out of that historic building.
But first, he had to go through a government agency known as the General Services Administration (GSA), which is the building manager, purchasing agent, and IT acquisition manager of the Federal government. It is also where I worked for more than forty years before my retirement in July of 2022.
No, I've never mentioned before, in public social media, where I worked in the federal government. Yes, because I'm retired, it can now be told.
I was with the communications staff of GSA. By the early 2010s, I had already transitioned from graphic design and publishing to video production and photography. The leasing of the historic building to "DJT Holdings LLC" was to be highlighted by a grand ceremony involving the turning over of the keys. After spending over an hour convincing a bunch of rent-a-cops that we belonged there, we started setting up cameras and microphones and the whole nine yards. It was a hot summer day, which didn't make it any easier.
As preparations began, there he was along the mezzanine, speaking with three of the men for whom I worked, all of whom stood there, as mesmerized as I might have been. There I saw a man, the author of "The Art of the Deal" and as big as life, a man sure of his destiny in life, a destiny that called to him to grab unto himself that which was his. I never was impressed with his television appearances on "The Apprentice" or anywhere else, but seeing him there was enough to convince me, that yes, he was larger than life.
I operated the camera in front of the podium. I also did the editing of the video you see here, and worked with Judy, who did the voiceover, and with whom I got it uploaded to the server just before the deadline.
Fast forward to 2016.
The race was between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton. I didn't care for either of them. A wise priest told me that "the lesser of two evils is still an evil." And after years of choosing between an unsuitable candidate, and an uninspiring candidate, I was considering staying away from the polls that year, abstaining from the first presidential election since I was eligible to vote in one in 1976.
It so happens that the GSA, however obscure to those not on the federal payroll, has a little-known but very critical role during the change of the executive office of the President. After an election, the Administrator of General Services has the power to determine, as a matter of statutory law, and in advance of formal determination by the Electoral College, the presumptive victor of the presidential election, followed by the handing over of any funds or facilities necessary for the transition to complete its ... well, transitioning.
I was a graphic designer (or "Visual Information Specialist GS-1084") for most of my career, beginning in December of 1980. After completing diploma studies for Web Design and Interactive Media at the Art Institute of Washington from 2004 to 2009, I learned that my agency did not require an additional web designer after all (so I didn't complain that they paid for most of it). Meanwhile, I learned that animation software (Adobe After Effects) was very similar to video editing software (Final Cut Pro, later Adobe Premiere Pro). I had also studied photography in college, so that was my way into a new field. Eventually, I was transferred to Video Production (as an "Audiovisual Production Specialist GS-1071").
My director assigned me to be vetted by the US Secret Service, and I had access to the secured wing of our building that was used by the Transition. I was told to wear a suit every day (which I would have done anyway). I had to have special identification card to wear, opposite the agency credentials, to wear within the secure area, and to hide the minute we left said area, so as to avoid surprise inquiries from the press (and until then, admonished only to say "no comment").
One of my first assignments was to photograph the provisional office spaces for the President-Elect, the Vice President-Elect, and the "First Spouse" and "Second Spouse." Yes, they each got their own, whether they used them or not. During this time, I was given my own personal Secret Service agent. His name was Steve, he wore tactical gear, and he carried a really big gun.
The Vice President-elect and his wife eventually used their offices. The other couple, not so much.
The President-elect must appoint several thousand men and women to various policy positions throughout the executive branch. The key apppintees -- those who would head the various cabinet departments and agencies -- must be approved by the Congress. Their previous official portraits might contain backdrops that render them unsuitable, so they must have new ones, with only the American flag in the background. That's where my director and I came in.
And so, I got to meet some of the key appointments, at times even being practically alone in the room with them.
Among the first was South Carolina Governor Nimarata Nikki Randhawa Haley, aka Nikki Haley, as Ambassador-designate to the United Nations. She was the most distant of all of them -- my director took care of her, while I adjusted the lighting -- and she had the largest entourage of all of them, at least three staff members, and two plainclothes South Carolina state troopers. The police guys were pretty cool, the others eager to please en route to the UN. But to her credit, shw was also the most photogenic -- my director said she practically took her own photo.
I did the official photos of so many of them, but a few out of all of them were memorable.
There was General John Francis Kelly, USMC, as Secretary-designate of Homeland Security (later White House Chief of Staff). He noticed the Eagle Scout insignia on my suit lapel -- yes, I made a point of wearing that one -- which he was quick to notice. He pointed to it and told me "that's a really big deal." After the session was done, he made his selection, and said it again: "That's a really big deal."
I didn't know what he meant at the time, but it occurred to me later. In some branches of the Armed Services, Eagle Scouts get a bump in rank by the time they complete basic training. And why? Because they know stuff before they even get off the bus; how to pack gear, how to hike, how to set up camp, how to track, how to cook meals in the field, how to shoot guns, how to treat basic wounds, how to carry the wounded, how to jump in water over one's head to save someone else's life, all the while risking one's life, and so on.
Yeah, that is "a really big deal." I thanked him for that.
Then there was Rex Tillerson, Secretary-designate of State, and former President of the Boy Scouts of America (2010-2012). I would seldom speak to the subjects unless spoken to. In this case, when it was over, I leaned in and said: "From one Eagle to another, good luck, sir." He responded with that characteristic Texas drawl. "Yeah, it sure meant a lot to me back then."
Most of the appointees were just here for the day, and would be shuffled from one meeting to another, and I was lucky to get five or ten minutes with them, not a lot of time for do-overs. I didn't need do-overs. But there was one notable exception.
No, not for do-overs. Bear with me.
James Richard Perry was the immediate past Governor of Texas, and Secretary-designate of Energy. He noticed my lapel pin immediately, came up and shook my hand, and identified himself as a brother Eagle. We spent at least five or ten minutes just comparing notes, how his Class of 1965 was the last class of Eagles without the mandatory service requirement, how mine as one of the Class of 1971 would never pass muster today, that the National Council of BSA realized they couldn't buy the kind of publicity these service projects gave them. He was sincerely fascinated by this.
After the session was over, he wanted to see my camera. I thought he wanted to pick his choice. No, he wanted to check out that big 200x piece of glass I had for a lens. It seems that photography is another of his hobbies. So we talked about that too. I don't know how he finds the time.
When was leaving the secure area for my office, I saw him rush past members of the press waiting by his car without comment. To think that he was unable to spend a few minutes with them, in favor of talking to a nobody like me.
What a stand-up guy!
It all came to an end on the 19th of January, when my final assignment was as photographer for the Vice President-elect's final press conference before his inauguration. In the months and years that followed, I heard from other Trump appointees, of how my reputation for my work was to my credit, and that of my agency. That stayed with me, and kept me going, all for a career change in mid-life that I entered "through the back door," learning along the way, and learning from some of the best and most patient men and women on the federal payroll.
Trump’s election wasn’t about Trump. It was a throbbing middle finger in the face of America’s ruling class. It was a gesture of contempt, a howl of rage, the end result of decades of selfish and unwise decisions made by selfish and unwise leaders. Happy countries don’t elect Donald Trump president. Desperate ones do.
In retrospect, the lesson seemed obvious: Ignore voters for long enough and you get Donald Trump.
I retired at the end of July of 2022, but of all the experiences I ever had, all my accomplishments, all my memories, the aforementioned remains to this day on the short list of the most memorable. My only regret is that my mother and father were not alive to hear me tell of it. After all, I worked alongside men who would go on to make history. Not too shabby, don't you think?
Da virtutis meritum,
