Chant Café

As we hear reports of scores of Italian priests who have died from the pandemic, very often because of service to others, these words from Pope Emeritus Benedict from his 2008 Chrism Mass homily, which he quotes on pages 51-53 of From the Depths of Our Hearts, ring triumphantly true.

Holy Thursday is an occasion for us to ask ourselves over and over again: to what did we say our “yes”? What does this “being a priest of Jesus Christ” mean? The Second Canon of our Missal, which was probably compiled in Rome already at the end of the second century, describes the essence of the priestly ministry with the words with which, in the Book of Deuteronomy (18: 5, 7), the essence of the Old Testament priesthood is described: astare coram te et tibi ministrare [“to stand and minister in the name of the Lord”]. There are therefore two duties that define the essence of the priestly ministry: in the first place, “to stand in his [the Lord’s] presence”. In the Book of Deuteronomy this is read in the context of the preceding disposition, according to which priests do not receive any portion of land in the Holy Land – they live of God and for God. They did not attend to the usual work necessary to sustain daily life. Their profession was to “stand in the Lord’s presence” – to look to him, to be there for him. Hence, ultimately, the word indicated a life in God’s presence, and with this also a ministry of representing others. As the others cultivated the land, from which the priest also lived, so he kept the world open to God, he had to live with his gaze on him. Now if this word is found in the Canon of the Mass immediately after the consecration of the gifts, after the entrance of the Lord in the assembly of prayer, then for us this points to being before the Lord present, that is, it indicates the Eucharist as the centre of priestly life. But here too, the meaning is deeper. During Lent the hymn that introduces the Office of Readings of the Liturgy of the Hours – the Office that monks once recited during the night vigil before God and for humanity – one of the duties of Lent is described with the imperative: arctius perstemus in custodia – we must be even more intensely alert. In the tradition of Syrian monasticism, monks were qualified as “those who remained standing”. This standing was an expression of vigilance. What was considered here as a duty of the monks, we can rightly see also as an expression of the priestly mission and as a correct interpretation of the word of Deuteronomy: the priest must be on the watch. He must be on his guard in the face of the imminent powers of evil.
He must keep the world awake for God. He must be the one who remains standing: upright before the trends of time. Upright in truth. Upright in the commitment for good. Being before the Lord must always also include, at its depths, responsibility for humanity to the Lord, who in his turn takes on the burden of all of us to the Father. And it must be a taking on of him, of Christ, of his word, his truth, his love. The priest must be upright, fearless and prepared to sustain even offences for the Lord, as referred to in the Acts of the Apostles: they were “rejoicing that they were counted worthy to suffer dishonour for the name” (5: 41) of Jesus.

Today CMAA chaplain Fr. Robert Pasley, rector of Mater Ecclesiae Parish in Berlin, New Jersey, celebrated Vespers for the Fourth Sunday of Lent:

And in Charles Town, West Virginia, the community of Canons Regular of the New Jerusalem did the same:

Those of us unable to attend Mass or receive Holy Communion this unusual Laetare Sunday may need to dig pretty deeply to find any meaning in this experience of desolation.

In many ways, today is like Good Friday–except that on Good Friday we can still participate in the mysteries by receiving Communion.

With a great deal of help I have come up with the following provisional meaning for myself. And as so often, my best teacher is St. Therese of Lisieux.

During the last year and a half of her life, throughout her last illness, St. Therese profoundly experienced the absence of God. Instead of her clear and lively faith, in which heaven appeared as self-evident as earthly things or even more real, her world was covered in cloud and shadow. She passed through a tunnel, making more acts of faith than in the rest of her years combined, but without any sense of feeling that her faith was true.

Remarkably, she found in this experience a sympathy for atheists. And it’s here that I think this Sunday can find its meaning.

From the cross the Lord cried out Psalm 22. He said this for all of us, to those who are far off and those who are near. He wants us all near to Him, and so many in our world are not. Some of them are dying today, under very difficult circumstances. In Hopkins’ words:

“…Heart, go and bleed at a bitterer vein for the
Comfortless unconfessed of them…”

For them, at this moment, in our experience of desolation, we can intercede with something like existential reality. We can really experience a solidarity with those who cannot, or will not, believe. As Pope Benedict XVI said of St. Therese, “The Carmelite was aware that she was living this great trial for the salvation of all the atheists of the modern world, whom she called “brothers”.”

If it’s not through our fault that we cannot share in the one cup, we can still share in His, and theirs, and help make up in ourselves “whatever is lacking in the sufferings of Christ” (Col 1:24).

https://youtu.be/d5p_U8J0iRQ

Within the quiet of a home
Let no one but the angels come,
Or travelers in their distress,
Or friends in holy righteousness.
Let every fam’ly live in peace
And let the grace of God increase.

O Jesus, born on Christmas night,
The Son of Mary, heaven’s Light,
Give us the grace we need each day
To follow in Your Father’s way:
The heav’nly Father, quick to bless,
Whose ev’ry act is faithfulness.

Then Father, bless each family
With faith and hope and charity,
That we may find our perfect Good
Whose bed was only hay and wood.
Saint Joseph, help all families stay
With Him you sheltered Christmas day.

Text by Kathleen Pluth
Copyright © 2005 CanticaNOVA Publications. Duplication restricted.

Meter: 7.6.7.6 D Suggested tune: Sussex Carol, or others:

Angel’s Song Neumark (alt) Saint Petersburg

Melita Saint Catherine Stella

NAILS

Whenever the bright blue nails would drop
Down on the floor of his carpenter shop,
Saint Joseph, prince of carpenter men,
Would stoop to gather them up again;
For he feared for two little sandals sweet,
And very easy to pierce they were
As they pattered over the lumber there
And rode on two little sacred feet.

But alas, on a hill between Earth and Heaven
One day — two nails in a cross were driven,
And fastened it firm to the sacred feet
Where once rode two little sandals sweet;
And Christ and His mother looked off in death
Afar — to the valley of Nazareth,
Where the carpenter’s shop was spread with dust
And the little blue nails, all packed in rust,
Slept in a box on the window-sill;
And Joseph lay sleeping under the hill.

Leonard Feeney, SJ

Thanks to Fr. Peter Connelly, OSB for sharing this poem.