Year C Pentecost

Readings: Acts 2:1-11; Ps 104:1.24.29-31.34; 1 Cor 12:3b-7; John 20:19-23

The word Pentecost, which is Greek in origin, means fifty days. While, for Christians, Pentecost comes fifty days after Easter, on the Jewish calendar Pentecost is fifty days after Passover. The Hebrew word for this Jewish observance is Shavu’ot, or, as it is commonly referred to in English, the Festival of Weeks. During the celebration of Shavu’ot, Jews commemorate God giving the Law to Moses on Mount Sinai. Shauv’ot, or Pentecost, was and remains a major annual observance for Jews worlwide. Observing Pentecost in the Temple, which was still standing in the time of the apostles, is the reason that there were Jews from all over the known world in Jerusalem on the occasion of the first Christian Pentecost.

The Holy Spirit’s descent, as recorded in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, came fifty days after the Passover during which Jesus’ passion, death, and resurrection occurred. Just as observance of the Law, not descent from Abraham, is what conferred on the Jewish people their identity as God’s chosen people, it is the Holy Spirit who gives the Church her identity as the Bride of Christ. So, just as especially through child-bearing, a man and a woman become flesh of each other’s flesh and bone of each other’s bone, it is by the power of the Holy Spirit that those reborn in baptism make the Church, Christ’s Bride, his very body.

It is by Christ’s pouring out the Holy Spirit on the first Christian Pentecost that God opened the one covenant to everyone and anyone who says “Jesus is Lord” by the power of the Spirit. In his Second Letter to the Corinthians St. Paul made the distinction between the spirit and the letter of the law (2 Cor 3:6). Christ showed us that the law was not given as an end in itself, but as a means to the end of being perfected in love. While what we do, or don’t do, certainly matters, why we do what we do and why we avoid what we should not do matters just as much. As Spirit-filled followers of Christ our reason for doing or not doing is the same: love of God and neighbor.

After Easter, Pentecost is the most important celebration on the Church’s liturgical calendar. It is sometimes referred to as the birthday of the Church. Given the milieu in which we live, I think understanding that the Church began at Pentecost and has continued by the power of the same Spirit ever since is vitally important. It is equally important to grasp that the Church, which has existed from before the foundation of the world, will never cease to exist. Heaven is the Church, the city of God come down from heaven, as we read in the twenty-first chapter of Revelation (Rev 21:2-3). You see, in the end the Church will only be comprised of saints, which is why French Catholic writer Leon Bloy’s observation- “There is only one tragedy in the end, not to have been a saint” – gets right to heart of the matter. In other words, Christ did not send the Holy Spirit merely to put on a good show for the Jews gathered in Jerusalem more than 2,000 years ago any more than he does so now. Christ sends the Holy Spirit to renew the face of the earth beginning with you and me.

The Solemnity of Pentecost is often seen as the rectification of the confusion of languages that resulted from the attempt, which echoed the original sin, to build a tower that reached to heaven- the Tower of Babel. Building on seeing the first Christian Pentecost as the event marking the opening of God’s one covenant with humanity to anyone who comes to faith in Christ, which is only possible by the Holy Spirit, it can also be viewed as the beginning of God’s restoring communion among a sin-fractured humanity. As the apostles spoke their fellow Jews, gathered in Jerusalem from all over the world, just as Catholics from all over the world, speaking many languages, often gather in St. Peter’s Square, heard the proclamation of the Gospel in his/her own language.

Pentecost, Wells Cathedral, England

It is fitting that during this Jubilee of Mercy our Gospel for Pentecost Sunday is an excerpt of our Gospel for the Second Sunday of Easter, which is the feast of Divine Mercy. One of the criteria for something to be a sacrament is that Christ himself instituted it as such. Our Gospel reading today is the primary passage to which the Church points when considering the Sacrament of Penance, more commonly referred to as confession. It is notable that the Sacrament of Penance was the first gift given to the Church by the Lord after his resurrection.

Through the waters of baptism, we are restored to that state of original grace in which God created human beings to live. This state of original grace may be more succinctly referred to as the state of communion: communion between humanity and God, communion between people, and communion between people and nature. But so persistent is our fallen state that even after we are baptized we are still prone to sin. This is what makes going to confession, which is an extension of baptism, so vitally important for your spiritual life and health.

Just as in the Eucharist the bread and wine become for us Christ’s body and blood by the power of the Holy Spirit, it is by the Spirit’s power given us through the Sacrament of Penance that our sins are forgiven and the eternal punishment due to us is mercifully taken away. Rather than wait for God’s judgment at the end of your life, going to confession regularly gives you the opportunity to judge yourself, acknowledge your sins, express your sorrow, do penance, and receive the grace you need to live an increasingly Spirit-filled life until you are perfected in love.

The Holy Spirit is the way that Jesus Christ remains present in us and among us until he returns again in glory. The sacraments are the Holy Spirit's masterworks. Perhaps the best definition of a sacrament is a visible and tangible sign of Christ’s presence in and for the world. One of the four ways that Christ is really and truly present in this Eucharist and every Eucharist is in our gathering, as the baptized, to be immersed in the great Paschal mystery. Our assembling here today is not just a visible and tangible sign of Christ’s presence in and for the world, but is the sign of Christ's presence in southern Davis County, Utah. By virtue of your baptism and confirmation, in which God called you by name, you are called be a sacrament, that is, an active, dynamic sign of Christ’s presence in and for the world. At the end of this Mass you will be sent to “proclaim the Gospel of the Lord,” just as the apostles were sent at Pentecost after receiving the Holy Spirit.

My dear friends in Christ, in a very real sense, every Sunday is Pentecost; we are filled with the Holy Spirit and sent forth to proclaim the Good News- “Jesus is Lord!”

Blogospherical bitching and missionary discipleship

I probably point this too often these days, but I've been a member of the nebulous Catholic blogosphere for nearly a decade. Perhaps once I clear the 10 years of consistent blogging milestone on 19 July, I will shut up about it. Then again, maybe not. Who knows? I still find it somewhat astonishing that people have found a way to make blogging pay, that is, to become professional bloggers. I think it's important to understand the dangers of so doing, one of which is to you set yourself up as a self-styled expert on various, or even all, aspects of Catholic history, doctrine, and practice. Ah, the power of the Google! Despite my dismissive tone, all of this is fine by me because, by and large, Catholic blogging is a derivative, often parasitical, activity that frequently relies on ecclesiastical exaggerations and distortions.

Something I remind myself of on occasion is the fact that the vast majority of even faithful, practicing Catholics are not much concerned with matters those of us who can rightly be termed "Church geeks" find so interesting and important. This means that it is likely almost always the case that those who read what we post comprise a relatively small subset of Catholics: those with strong opinions one way or the other and who are looking either for affirmation of their preconceptions or someone with whom to debate. Another danger inherent to blogging is to pump out propaganda in the service of ideology.

It probably goes without saying (we bloggers are notable for pointing out the obvious) that the pontificate of Pope Francis is an absolute boon for Catholic bloggers. I would not be the least bit surprised to confirm a suspicion I have concerning Papa Begoglio: that he enjoys yanking chains. Such a confirmation would only make me like him more. What prompted this post is a certain smugness I sometimes detect from Catholic bloggers who seem to consider themselves a cut above what they perceive as the average Catholic. This manifests itself by smug and condescending responses to reactions they receive from their blogging, especially writing about the exploits of Pope Francis.

Anyone who pays the slightest bit of attention to Pope Francis knows that he seeks to provoke. It's fair to describe his pontificate, at least to this point, as a provocation. Provocation is good - pro + vocation = for the call. At the center of his papal magisterium is the making of missionary disciples (see "What is missing from post-WYD Catholic commentary? 'Missionary discipleship'"). According to the end of St. Matthew's Gospel, Jesus not only told his apostles to go and baptize in God's thrice-holy name, but first to "make disciples of all nations" (Matt 28:19). In order to "make disciples" of Jesus, we must first become his disciples.

In my view, it is to help us become full-fledged, truly mature, disciples of the Lord that Pope Francis ceaselessly tries to break through our preconceptions and misconceptions of what that means. He is especially provocative when he speaks of "the globalization of indifference," on the one hand, and our need, as disciples of Jesus, to create "a culture of encounter," on the other. He speaks as someone not from Western Europe or the United States. Hence, it should neither surprise nor dismay us that people strongly react to his provocations and all that they entail. Isn't it easier to focus on personal piety (something we should never neglect- I try not use the word "pious" as a pejorative term), strict adherence to liturgical rubrics, and denouncing the decay of public morals than to engage like Jesus? Let's face it, even today, more than 50 years after the Second Vatican Council, Catholicism can still amount to so much dead ritualism. I am dismayed by the number of those who firmly believe the answer to this is to move backward and not forward. Pope Francis, it seems to me, is determined to lead the Church forward.

Why should Catholic bloggers be neither surprised nor dismayed? Because the Holy Father's provocations are having the intended effect! This is true even when what we experience is only the first order effect of irritating someone, as did Amoris laetitia, which changed no part of Church teaching. He's shaking us up, trying to awake us from our slumber, to engage reality according to all the factors that constitute it. He is intent on showing us that perhaps the surest mark of Christian maturity is the ability to deal with some ambiguity, especially that which arises from life's inherent complexity, which complexity ought to drive us to daily nurture our relationship with Christ.

My plea to my fellow Catholics, be they fellow clerics, religious, or lay people, who engage publicly is to engage well, in the manner of missionary disciples. Among other things, this means eschewing snarkiness and condescension, especially with regard to those we may provoke. Let go of the ethos of giving as good as you get, which is but an attenuated version of an eye-for-an-eye and tooth-for-a-tooth. The mark of a Christian, in the words of St. Paul, is not to "be conquered by evil but conquer evil with good" (Rom 12:21). I must admit, it is tiresome to hear Catholics who are intent on making their faith public criticize, demean, and berate those who take strong exception to what they write, even when those who take such exception act ignorantly and/or uncharitably.

For those members of the Catholic blogosphere not engaged daily and in person in pastoral ministry, just know that what happens there often makes what happens on-line pale in comparison, no matter what some might say. Aggression and passive-aggression are not exclusively the domain of the virtual world. Keep in mind that one cannot claim to serve Christ and fail to love, not even those who you treat you with contempt, but especially those who so treat you. Did not our Lord say,

But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have? Do not the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet your brothers only, what is unusual about that? Do not the pagans do the same? (Matthew 5:44-47

As I am sure everyone reading this knows, Pope Francis has declared this year a Jubilee of Mercy. Central to observing this year as such is our individual and collective practice of the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy. I think it is fair to observe that practicing these make us missionary disciples. After all, they fulfill Jesus' commandments to love God with all our heart, might, mind, and strength, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Practicing the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy are also means by which we die to self and selflessly serve others.

Moving from the general to the specific, among the Spiritual Works of Mercy are Forgiving Injuries and Bearing Wrongs Patiently, as is Instructing the Ignorant and Admonishing the Sinner. Let the latter two be balanced by the former two, or, as the late Rich Mullins sang, "Let Mercy Lead."

"Carry me on the waves to the land I've never been"

Sunday is Pentecost. It's difficult to believe that Evening Prayer on Sunday will mark the end of Easter for this Year of Grace, which the Holy Father has designated as a Year of Mercy. God is, indeed, merciful. If he were not, what would be the point of our fifty day celebration of Easter? It's a rhetorical question, of course.

I found this picture on JPUSA's "In Some Measures" blog

God's mercy is Jesus Christ. In the Letter to the Ephesians we read:

But God, who is rich in mercy, because of the great love he had for us, even when we were dead in our transgressions, brought us to life with Christ (by grace you have been saved), raised us up with him, and seated us with him in the heavens in Christ Jesus, that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast. For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them (Eph 2:4-10)

Yes, as Catholics we, too, affirm that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus Christ. That is a matter of revelation, as the above passage, and many like it, more than amply demonstrate. After all, that is the Good News.

I think of the term "salvation" as a composition that consists of three distinguishable, but not wholly distinct, movements: redemption, justification, and sanctification. Pope Francis was absolutely correct a few years ago when he said that everyone, including atheists, are redeemed. Christ died for all, did he not? I find it useful to think of redemption as a gift and justification as accepting, or at least not rejecting, the gift. Sanctification, in this metaphor, would be like putting the gift to good use. Oversimplified? You bet it is, as is any other explication of the mystery of our salvation, no matter how in-depth. My persistent point is that what God has done for us in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit is something we can verify through experience and not just have a lot of nice ideas about.

Okay, enough of that! Largely because it's simply been too long since I've listened to it, Enya's "Orinoco Flow" is our Friday traditio for this last Friday of Easter:

Pope Francis and women as deacons

To much predictably ill-informed media fanfare, Pope Francis, in a seemingly impromptu response to a request that arose from his meeting in Rome with the International Union of Superiors General (UISG), a body of superiors of women's religious orders, agreed to create a committee to study the ministry of women deacons in the early Church. The results of the study would then presumably be used to help determine whether women might be instituted, or perhaps even be ordained, as deacons for the Church today. According to the National Catholic Reporter, in his response to this request, the Holy Father remembered speaking with a "good, wise professor" who had studied the ministry of female deacons in the Church's early centuries. According to the NCR piece, Pope Francis confessed that even after his discussion with the professor the role of women deacons remained unclear to him: "What were these female deacons?" he remembered asking the professor. "Did they have ordination or no?" "It was a bit obscure."

It bears noting that the International Theological Commission, which belongs to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, back in 2002 published a fairly comprehensive study on the diaconate that was five years in the making: From the Diakonia of Christ to the Diakonia of the Apostles. Section IV of Chapter 2 of the Commission's study specifically addressed "The Ministry of Deaconesses." The concluding paragraph of that section echoes what Pope Francis said to the UISG:

The present historical overview shows that a ministry of deaconesses did indeed exist, and that this developed unevenly in the different parts of the Church. It seems clear that this ministry was not perceived as simply the feminine equivalent of the masculine diaconate. At the very least it was an ecclesial function, exercised by women, sometimes mentioned together with that of sub-deacon in the lists of Church ministries. Was this ministry conferred by an imposition of hands comparable to that by which the episcopate, the priesthood and the masculine diaconate were conferred? The text of the Constitutiones Apostolorum would seem to suggest this, but it is practically the only witness to this, and its proper interpretation is the subject of much debate. Should the imposition of hands on deaconesses be considered the same as that on deacons, or is it rather on the same level as the imposition of hands on sub-deacons and lectors? It is difficult to tackle the question on the basis of historical data alone

Along with the minor orders of porter and exorcist, the sub-diaconate was abolished by Bl Pope Paul VI in his Apostolic Letter, promulgated in 1972, Ministeria quaedam. While the minor orders of lector and acolyte remain, neither is currently conferred by the laying on of hands. These minor orders are reserved to men preparing for ordination.

In addition to the International Theological Commission's study, there are are some other relatively recent books on this matter that bear noting: Holy Saturday: An Argument for the Restoration of the Female Diaconate in the Catholic Church, Women Deacons: Past, Present, Future, and Deaconesses: An Historical Study.

Despite having done what can be considered fairly serious academic work on the diaconate, which, if nothing else, allowed me to survey most of the literature available on the diaconate over a period of four years, I am not offering a personal opinion on the possibility of women deacons. But I would say, don't automatically assume women deacons means ordaining women. I laud the pope's decision to appoint a committee to study the singular issue of women deacons. By all means, let the conversation and discernment continue.

St. Stephen by Luis de Morales, 1575

The question of admitting women to holy orders is not a simple one, but is rather dense and complex. In short, the vast majority of the plenteous commentary now on offer, only one day after Pope Francis' seemingly impromptu announcement, no matter the view being expressed (i.e., for or against), with perhaps a few exceptions, is likely gravely deficient in one or more aspect. The blogosphere with its rush to comment on news tends to be very reactionary and the mainstream media tends to be as ideological and it is ignorant when it comes to ecclesiological matters.

Since I am on the subject of deacons, I have to say that I frequently marvel at how marginalized deacons and the diaconate remain. As a case-in-point, I offer the recent announcement of a diocesan synod for the Diocese of San Diego. Bishop Robert McElroy, who serves as bishop of the diocese, in announcing the synod, which will consider five "major challenges"- divorced Catholics, "witnessing to the Catholic understanding of marriage, Church resources for unmarried couples, raising kids, and spirituality within families" - described a synod as bringing "together the bishop, the priestly leadership and lay and religious representatives from throughout the diocese to wrestle with the most important questions that a diocese faces."

Notably missing from this discussion of the most important questions that local church faces are San Diego's permanent deacons, who number just under 150 according to the website Catholic Hierarchy. As with most dioceses in the United States and abroad, the vast majority of San Diego's permanent deacons are no doubt married with children. You'd think married clerics and their wives might be identified as having valuable inputs given the matters the synod is slated to discuss. I attribute no ill-intent at all to Bishop McElroy. In fact, I congratulate him for convening a diocesan synod. However, his omission of deacons strikes me as something still all too common more than 40 years after the restoration of the renewed diaconate in the wake of the Second Vatican Council.

In my own local Church it is not infrequently that I still hear the phrase "Clergy and deacons." I also sometimes hear about "Clergy Convocations" that include only priests. Of course, there is nothing wrong with holding a Priests' Convocation or a Deacons' Convocation, but then there is a lot right with gathering the entire clergy of a diocese together on, say, an annual basis. There is certainly much to be said for not being unnecessarily, if unintentionally, reductive and exclusive. I do have to point out that both bishops under whom I have served as a deacon were remarkably appreciative of eager to include deacons in the life of the Church here in Utah.

What is the thread connecting these two seemingly disparate matters? Apart from yesterday's off-the-cuff announcement about appointing a committee to study the ministry of women deacons in the early Church, to the best of my knowledge, Pope Francis has said nothing to or about permanent deacons in his more than three years as Pontiff. Perhaps this stems from the fact that the Archdiocese of Buenos Aires, as of 2012, again, according to Catholic Hierarchy, had only 11 permanent deacons. By contrast, the Diocese of Rome, as of 2014, had 122 permanent deacons. Bishop McEloy's omission of deacons from his statement about the upcoming diocesan synod, which I only use to serve as a recent reminder of a very deeply ingrained tendency to overlook deacons, may indicate that conferring the diaconate on women might not be the best way to bring them in from the margins.

The Spirit levels our gaze

Readings: Acts 1:1-11; Ps 47:2-3.6-9; Heb 9:24-28.10:19-23; Luke 24:46-53

There are a lot of terms we throw about without being much concerned as to whether or not most people grasp them. In my experience, one such term is "Paschal mystery." Sometimes those of us who use it give some context by saying something like, "the Paschal mystery of Christ's death and resurrection." When we consider the Paschal mystery, in which, being anointed as priests at our baptism, we are called to participate daily, it is multi-faceted: Christ's birth, life, passion and death, resurrection, ascension, and will culminate with his glorious return.

In this regard what always strikes me about the account of Jesus' ascension in the Acts of the Apostles is what the angel says to the apostles as stare at Jesus ascending, which I am sure was quite a spectacle to behold: "Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven" (Acts 1:11). Indeed, for some still today, being a Christian consists of something like standing there gazing heavenward. Just as the angel exhorted the apostles, we are to level our gaze and live the circumstances we face daily in the light of the Paschal mystery "as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ."

In Acts, the angel tells the apostles, "This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven" (Acts 1:11b). This is the best reason of all not to stand around gawking. In the end, we will not "go to heaven;" heaven will come to us:

I also saw the holy city, a new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, God’s dwelling is with the human race. He will dwell with them and they will be his people and God himself will always be with them [as their God]" (Rev 21:2-3)

The idea that we will "go to heaven," up there somewhere in the sky, is perhaps one of the worst distortions of revelation from which the Church suffers. To think this is to miss the whole point of creation and redemption, to miss the point of the Incarnation. With the coming of Christ the insurgency has begun and will continue until God's reign is fully established upon the earth. This is why, as a Christian, I must make God's kingdom a present reality, not just a nice idea that has little or nothing to do with me.

Jesus promised to clothe his followers "with power from on high" (Luke 24:49). This, of course, refers to the coming of the Holy Spirit in a new and powerful way. After all, it's not as though the Spirit has ever been absent from the world. After Christ's ascension the Holy Spirit becomes the way Christ himself remains present in us and through us. It is the Holy Spirit who effects the sacraments. The celebration of the sacraments are those places and times where Christ comes to meet us in an empowering way. The grace with which are imbued by the sacraments make Christ present in us by the power of the Holy Spirit. Grace is nothing other than God- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit- sharing divine life with us. This life, which is constituted by love, is not given us only for ourselves, which is way it is not our task to stand, mouth agape, staring at heaven, but to level our gaze and share God's love with everyone we meet in one or another. Witness always trumps discourse.

Christ's Ascension, Rembrandt, 1636

As the Lord himself indicated in our Gospel reading: "Thus it is written that the Messiah would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem" (Luke 24:46-47). As Pope Francis indicated in his Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii gaudium:

Today, as the Church seeks to experience a profound missionary renewal, there is a kind of preaching which falls to each of us as a daily responsibility. It has to do with bringing the Gospel to the people we meet, whether they be our neighbours or complete strangers. This is the informal preaching which takes place in the middle of a conversation, something along the lines of what a missionary does when visiting a home. Being a disciple means being constantly ready to bring the love of Jesus to others, and this can happen unexpectedly and in any place: on the street, in a city square, during work, on a journey (par 127)

It is easily argued that the centerpiece of Francis' papacy is leveling our gaze in order foster what he calls "a culture of encounter." This means not just ceasing, but steadfastly refusing, to not only stop seeing the other as a threat, but see her/him as a blessing. It is precisely in the other that we encounter the risen Christ, not up there in the clouds. This is not merely a challenge, but a provocation, that is, something for our vocation, our calling, which we received in baptism, had strengthened in confirmation, and is renewed at the end of each Mass when are dismissed, that is, sent forth to "proclaim the Gospel of the Lord," or to glorify the Lord by our living lives of self-sacrificial love.

My friends, "Let us hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope, for he who made the promise is trustworthy" (Heb 10:23). Or, as the last petition of Morning Prayer for the Solemnity of the Lord's Ascension pleads:

Today you promised the Spirit to your apostles, to make them your witnesses to the ends of the earth,
  - by the power of the Spirit strengthen our own witness

"And as the people bend, the moral fabric dies"

May is turning out to be as prolific as April in terms of blogging. I've had a difficult time deciding on a Friday traditio. Given what is happening in the presidential race, I believe Bad Religion's "You Are the Government" is a perfect choice this week

The song is short and powerful. Maybe we need a renewed punk rock movement to capture and channel the betrayal and, yes, rage many of us feel when it comes to the government.

Resurrection and (the) life

I don't mind divulging that over the whole of this Easter I've been experiencing something of a spiritual dry spell. By God's grace, I no longer panic when this happens by worrying about what I've done wrong to merit God's withdrawal. The reality is, dry spell or no, I do plenty wrong. But God is not fickle, like I am, and so God's disposition towards me never changes. He looks on me with great tenderness. One of the battles I fought for years, and sometimes still fight, is learning to gaze on myself with the same tenderness with which Christ, in his mercy, always gazes on me. At least from my perspective, the tenderness of Christ's gaze is the rock on which we must build our house. Every other foundation is sand.

The first weekend of the month is the one week I try not to have any parish duties- even deacons need a full weekend here and there. After serving at First Communion Mass yesterday, I stayed in the parish office and worked on some writing projects that were due. As the time passed I thought about going home, but I strongly felt the Lord calling me to head over to the church and serve at the Saturday Vigil Mass.

St. Olaf Church, Bountiful, Utah

The Mass was nothing out of the (extra)ordinary (Mass is ever extraordinary). In fact, due to the First Communion Mass earlier that day and the impending wind storm, which raged all night with gusts up to 90 mph, the Vigil Mass was sparsely attended. We had a cantor who sang a cappella, which I like sometimes. My parish actually chants pretty well.

As I walked from the Church to my car after talking to a parishioner who was widowed this week about life, death, the Eucharist and community, I found myself spontaneously singing the Easter "Alleluia" over and over all the way home, beginning as I walked across the parking lot. It's not that I couldn't stop singing "Alleluia," it's that I didn't want to stop. I don't want to stop today, especially now that many of our Orthodox brothers and sisters now join us in our annual celebration of Christ's glorious resurrection.

Thank you Lord Jesus for sending your Holy Spirit. As you said, the Spirit cannot come unless you send him (John 16:7). Help me to continue to live the mystery of your resurrection and ascension by the power of your Holy Spirit, who is your presence in us and among us as we await your return in glory. Alleluia, alleluia