Mystagogy

Do you like to travel? I love to travel and do you know what I like best? Looking at the pictures! The pictures of the places and the people help me to remember the trip and point out how the journey amazed me, challenged me and changed me.

Our newly initiated members are spending the Easter season reflecting on their faith journey, in particular, on the celebrations of Holy Week and the experience of the Sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Eucharist. They are remembering the images, the words, and the symbols they experienced. This process of reflection, officially called mystagogy, is a way of helping them to deepen their understanding of their experience. In the ancient Church, it was a way of teaching not only the newly initiated, but the whole community about the mysteries of faith.

Mystagogy isn’t only for the newly initiated. It is a powerful tool for everyone that can help one understand one’s faith in new ways. Take some time in the days ahead to remember the liturgies of Holy Week, Easter, or a Sunday Mass and discuss as a family. Here are a few questions to get you started: What did you see? What did you hear? What word or phrase captured your attention? What do you remember most? What touched you? What did it mean to you? What symbol stood out for you? If that symbol could have spoken, what might it have said? How did the liturgy challenge or affirm your perspective? How did it deepen your faith?

Mystagogy shows us how the liturgy teaches, reinforcing a key concept of the Second Vatican Council.

“Although the liturgy is above all things the worship of the divine majesty, it likewise contains rich instruction for the faithful.” Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy 33

For example, I remember when a visitor to our parish engaged in mystagogy without knowing it. He noticed that we prayed (in the General Intercessions) for those on death row. He was a lawyer who was all too familiar with criminal punishment. He was deeply moved by the prayer. It spoke to him about the abundance of God’s love and motivated him to seek a deeper understanding of our beliefs on capital punishment. His perspective about who Catholics are and what we believe was challenged and changed.

The liturgy teaches us a lot about our faith, but it requires that we come to Mass with eyes and ears wide open, with attentiveness and presence, ready to be amazed, challenged and changed.

I would like to invite you to share your experiences of the liturgies of Holy Week, of Easter or of a recent Sunday Mass by emailing me at kkuczka@sta.org. These comments will then be published in next weekend’s blog. I too will share my experiences of the liturgies of northern Italy. Sharing our experiences can help us to learn from one another and can lead us to a deeper faith in the Risen Lord, which is what mystagogy and Easter is all about.

Taizé

Every year on Good Friday at St. Thomas Aquinas, parishioners mark the day by participating in the Seven Last Words of Christ, prayed in the style of Taizé. If you have not participated in this prayer, you may be familiar with songs like, “Jesus, Remember Me,” “Eat this Bread,” or “Ubi Caritas,” all of which were composed at Taizé.

Taizé is an ecumenical community that takes its name from the small village where it is based in Taizé, France, in the country’s Burgundy region, minutes from Cluny, the site of Europe’s largest and most famous monastic abbey before its destruction during the French Revolution. The Taizé Community was founded by Roger Schüz, later known as Brother Roger, at the beginning of the Second World War. Brother Roger, the son of a Reformed Protestant Pastor, was studying theology at a college in Switzerland when he felt called to help war refugees as his grandmother had done during the First World War. In 1940, he bought a small house in central France that sheltered refugees, primarily Jews, which would later become the home of the Taizé Community. After the war, Brother Roger, who had long been drawn to a monastic way of life, founded a community of brothers which was open to men of all Christian faiths. Men from his own Reformed tradition began to join him followed by men from the Anglican and Catholic traditions. Brother Roger was passionate about the unity of Christians and had a deep desire as Jesus did, that all would be one. He often said, “Christ did not come to earth to create a new religion, but to offer to every human being a communion in God.” As an observer at the Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, with its concern for the restoration of Christian unity, he had hoped he would see the unity of Christians in his lifetime. He believed that life lived out in community could be a symbol of that reconciliation and unity called for by Christ and he never tired of working toward that goal. Today, the Taizé Community includes nearly 100 men of both Catholic and Protestant traditions who come from nearly 30 countries. Most of the brothers live at Taizé, but some live among disadvantaged communities around the world. The community at Taizé lives together, works together and prays together in simplicity, in peace and in poverty. They do not accept donations or gifts of any kind, but rather make their living solely from the work they do: Making pottery, writing books and welcoming tens of thousands of pilgrims to Taizé every year.

Young People at Taizé

Young people in particular are attracted to Taizé and tens of thousands come from all parts of the world each year to spend a week living, working, and praying alongside the brothers in the community. On a visit to Taizé over Palm Sunday, I was able to speak to several of them.

For 22-year-old Milena Vontottleben from Freiburg, Germany, Taizé is a familiar place. She has been here nine times and this time, she brought a large group of friends. Milena is a Christian who grew up in the German Baptist Tradition and she said she wanted to share what she calls “An environment that is as welcoming as she has ever experienced.” She said, “Being at Taizé inspires me to make a difference in the small things, to try to find unity in diversity even in my small group of friends.”

A change in plans due to the pandemic sent 20-year-old Carl Voigt from Germany to Taizé to volunteer for a period of seven months before entering college. He says the trip not only

changed his life, it changed his vocation, “I actually found the faith which was always there since my childhood but I didn’t open up for it. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Christianity to be honest and here I learned that I can have a place and that I can call myself a Christian and this changed my life forever.”

Fernanda Ortiz is a 23-year-old Catholic from Mexico who just graduated from college, packed up her life and came to Taizé to help the community welcome refugees from Ukraine. She said she has found unity in diversity here, “I love that we can pray together, even though we are from different denominations.”

Taizé Prayer

Morning, noon, and evening, the bells on the hill of Taizé ring out, calling everyone to communal prayer, which includes Scripture that is proclaimed in many languages, silence and simple short chants sung over and over again. The songs are not sung in the style with which today’s youth would be familiar meaning you won’t find any Christian Contemporary music at Taizé. The music, simple, meditative and repetitive, is meant to help everyone easily participate, to avoid distraction and to draw one inward. Brother Roger believed that the more accessible the prayer, the closer the encounter with God.

It was during an evening prayer on August 16, 2005, when Brother Roger, at the age of 90, was mortally stabbed by a woman later deemed mentally ill. Despite the grave loss, the community embraced the woman’s family with a spirit of forgiveness and mercy. Before he died, Brother Roger appointed his successor, Brother Alois Löser, a Roman Catholic from Germany, who remains the Prior of Taizé.

Roundabouts

To drive in Italy is to place one’s well-being entirely into the hands of God. Italians might appear to live life in the slow lane, savoring every moment of la dolce vita, but they drive as if they have no time to spare. Vehicles whiz by as if they were high speed trains and tailgate anyone who attempts to go the speed limit. If Italy has traffic laws one would never know it as drivers make up rules as they go. Pedestrians, Vespas, bicycles, scooters, and Segways appear out of thin air and dart in and out of traffic as if they own, rather than share, the roadways. All of this magnifies the anxiety of trying to navigate one’s way around a foreign country. I have lost count of my many mistakes, missteps and miscalculations and the natives have not been very forgiving. So many of them have expressed their irritation with me by laying on their horns or cursing that I’m beginning to think it’s the new national pastime!

I lamented my woes, crying out to God, “God, help me please! I am in a foreign country and I do not know the way!” God answered my prayer in the form of roundabouts--circular intersections that allow traffic to flow in one direction. The roundabouts recently built in Roswell and Alpharetta are small and simple compared to the large, multi-laned ones in Italy. Here, there are as many or more roundabouts than in most countries and at first I feared them. I wondered, “When do I enter the roundabout? Which lane do I choose? What if I need to change lanes? Who has the right of way? What if a pedestrian or bicycle enters the roundabout? How do I exit?” Roundabouts were a source of anxiety but now they are a source of comfort because they help me to turn from going the wrong direction and they guide me toward the right path. If I make a mistake, I can be assured that there is another roundabout waiting to turn me around and redirect me.

This act of turning from one way and toward another is at the core of our lives as Christians. While we are on this earth we are living in a foreign land until death brings us to our true home. We do not know the way and we make many mistakes, missteps and miscalculations but God’s mercy knows no end. God is constantly putting roundabouts in our path to lead us away from those things that are not life-giving and to guide us toward the path of new life. These roundabouts may come in many forms: a relationship with another, an experience of pain or heartache, an opportunity to practice generosity or an occasion for reconciliation.

We will have the opportunity for the Sacrament of Reconciliation this Tuesday evening at our Lenten Penance Service. This act of turning or conversion is the heart of Lent. As the Elect experience a conversion in mind and in heart, we who are already baptized are called to a similar conversion, one that guides us toward the promises made at our baptism.

Advent

This Advent, unlike any other in our lifetime, we find ourselves betwixt and between.

We are betwixt and between Iife as we knew it pre-COVID-19, and life as we hope to know it post vaccine. We are betwixt and between living with the cautions that advise us to not move about, to not travel, and to not gather, and living with the freedom to move about, to travel, and to gather.

For most of us this period of being betwixt and between has proven to be painful. It has meant waiting in the midst of days that are chaotic, disordered and unpredictable. We are, after all, creatures of habit and of comfort. We order our daily agendas in ways that protect us from the unknown. We program our GPS in order to avoid the risks of wandering off the beaten path. We surround ourselves with people who make us feel safe. We create for ourselves the illusion of being in control, of ordering our lives to be predictable. But nothing amazing or wonderful generally emerges from business as usual.

Waiting, while painful, can also bring newness-new perspectives, new ideas, and new ways of being. Consider the new perspectives we’ve gained about ourselves, about each other, and about society over the past year. Consider the new ideas that have been born in medicine, in science, and in technology. Consider the new ways of being students, teachers, workers, advocates, neighbors, community and church that have taken place since the pandemic began.

Waiting and the newness that comes as a result is what Advent is all about. In Advent, we are betwixt and between the coming of Christ in history and the coming of Christ at the end of time. In Advent, we are betwixt and between the season of Ordinary Time and the season of Christmas. While much of society would prefer to rush into Christmas, the Church encourages us to embrace the waiting so that we can experience newness-new perspectives, new ideas, and new ways of being. We are called to wait this Advent and to endure the pandemic as people of hope, to trust that all times and seasons are in the hands of a God who loves us more than we can imagine.

Easter Sunday 2020

Scan twitter with #coronavirusbaking and you will likely see pictures of “quarantine cookies” and “isolation loaves.” As the number of families confined to their homes grows, more people are finding refuge in baking. Baking offers a welcome distraction and a sense of comfort. The scents that waft from the kitchen gives one something for which to look forward.

Around this time every year, my mother and I would make Easter Bread. Easter Bread is a specialty bread, popular in Europe, that is made in different shapes and styles in honor of the Easter holiday. I remember the delight of getting my hands all gooey in the dough and the energy it took to knead it.

After separating the dough into balls, it was time to cover it and allow it to rise. After a period of time, that little ball of dough would double in size, pushing up the dish towels covering it. It was almost as if the dough became pregnant. I’ll never forget my mother’s expression at the risen dough. “Ah!” She would gasp with excitement, “God Bless it!” As a child, I wondered how God had time to help our dough to rise, especially at this busy time of year, but I was delighted that divine intervention had somehow decided to mix with our human efforts. The aroma of the bread baking in the oven was heavenly. After the bread had cooled, my mother would give the bread to others.

In the Ukraine, Easter Bread is called Paska, a derivative of Pascha, which means Easter. The word Pascha comes from the Hebrew word Pesach, meaning Passover. As the Jews celebrate the feast of Passover, commemorating the liberation of the Israelites from bondage in Egypt, Christians celebrate the feast of Easter, commemorating the death and resurrection of Jesus, the Passover or Paschal Lamb. Pesach is related to the Greek word Paschein, which means to suffer. This is one reason why Easter Bread is made at this time of year. It is symbolic of the dying and rising of Jesus.

This is one reason ordinary bread is used to make Eucharistic Bread. In order to make bread, seeds must die in the ground to become wheat. Wheat must be ground in order to become flour. In each step of the process, there is a dying in order to become something new. In the Eucharist, ordinary bread is transformed into something extraordinary, the Body and Blood of Christ. By partaking in the Eucharist, we too are transformed. We become pregnant with possibilities, energized to knead the dough of life and to give ourselves away for the life of the world. Amen!

Many recipes for Easter Bread can be found online. Here is an easy one courtesy of my mother, Violet Kuczka:

Easter Bread

Ingredients

· dry yeast, 2 packages

· 2 ½ cups of warm water

· 1 lemon cake mix

· 5 cups of flour +

· 2 eggs

· 1 t lemon flavoring

Directions

1. Dissolve yeast in 2 ½ cubs of warm water.

2. In a large bowl, combine cake mix and flour.

3. Beat eggs and add lemon flavoring.

4. Add egg mixture and yeast and water to the cake mix and the flour.

5. Knead well so that the dough is sticky. You may need to add more flour.

6. Let rise until double.

7. Divide into three loaf pans.

8. Let rise in the loaf pans until double.

9. Bake at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or until firm and lightly golden brown on top.

10. Brush with butter or icing.