An Evolving Tradition

My maternal grandparents were born in Italy and my paternal grandparents were born in Poland. When both sets of grandparents migrated to the United States, they brought with them the family traditions they experienced in Europe and handed them on to my parents. My parents continued the essential parts of those traditions, and they incorporated some new traditions from the United States and handed them on to us. My generation, now scattered throughout the U.S. and around the world, continues to maintain the essential parts of those traditions from our parents and grandparents, but we have also integrated new traditions based on where we live. The local language, culture and customs are now a part of our traditions which continue to change and evolve.

The traditions that are part of our liturgies followed a similar journey. Like my ancestors, our liturgical ancestors handed on what is essential. The apostles shared stories and a sacred meal to remember the death and resurrection of Jesus. As they went forth from Jerusalem, they handed on these essential elements and they incorporated new traditions based on the local culture.

From the time of the apostles, our liturgy has maintained its essential content, but many elements have undergone a process of change and transformation. From architecture to art, from rites to readings, from vessels to vernacular languages, the Church has continued to rewrite, revise, revisit, and reform our liturgical prayer. New theologies, new interpretations of old theologies, local culture, church councils, and church leadership all have influenced changes in the way we pray.

All of this tells us that liturgy is a living experience that changes and grows as all living things must. Perhaps that’s because the liturgy is celebrated by and for human beings who are also in a continuous state of evolution and transformation. We remain a pilgrim people, a people on a journey who continue to seek, to change, and to be changed. We are a people with whom God is not yet finished, a people whom God continues to remake and refashion.

We, like our ancestors, are charged with the responsibility of handing on the essential parts of our faith while being open to the Holy Spirit who makes all things new.

My maternal grandparents were born in Italy and my paternal grandparents were born in Poland. When both sets of grandparents migrated to the United States, they brought with them the family traditions they experienced in Europe and handed them on to my parents. My parents continued the essential parts of those traditions, and they incorporated some new traditions from the United States and handed them on to us. My generation, now scattered throughout the U.S. and around the world, continues to maintain the essential parts of those traditions from our parents and grandparents, but we have also integrated new traditions based on where we live. The local language, culture and customs are now a part of our traditions which continue to change and evolve.

The traditions that are part of our liturgies followed a similar journey. Like my ancestors, our liturgical ancestors handed on what is essential. The apostles shared stories and a sacred meal to remember the death and resurrection of Jesus. As they went forth from Jerusalem, they handed on these essential elements and they incorporated new traditions based on the local culture.

From the time of the apostles, our liturgy has maintained its essential content, but many elements have undergone a process of change and transformation. From architecture to art, from rites to readings, from vessels to vernacular languages, the Church has continued to rewrite, revise, revisit, and reform our liturgical prayer. New theologies, new interpretations of old theologies, local culture, church councils, and church leadership all have influenced changes in the way we pray.

All of this tells us that liturgy is a living experience that changes and grows as all living things must. Perhaps that’s because the liturgy is celebrated by and for human beings who are also in a continuous state of evolution and transformation. We remain a pilgrim people, a people on a journey who continue to seek, to change, and to be changed. We are a people with whom God is not yet finished, a people whom God continues to remake and refashion.

We, like our ancestors, are charged with the responsibility of handing on the essential parts of our faith while being open to the Holy Spirit who makes all things new.

And the Word became flesh

A trip to Bethlehem several years ago inspired me to purchase a new nativity set hand carved from the wood of olive trees grown in the Holy Land. Having that set brings a piece of the traditional birthplace of Jesus into my home. Even though I love my new nativity set, I will never part with the set I had as a child, even though its star has lost most of its glitter, even with its kitschy angels that glow in the dark.

Nativity sets and manger scenes have been a popular part of our Christmas traditions since the first one was established by St. Francis of Assisi in the central Italian town of Greccio in 1223. They adorn churches, homes, and public venues and are made from materials as simple as paper or as elaborate as entire villages such as those found in countries like Italy and Mexico. In some places, people create living Nativity scenes, where live animals and humans reenact the story of the birth of Jesus.

For many, these scenes bring joy and comfort--the joy of a newborn child along with the comfort that God’s promise has been fulfilled. As beautiful and as peaceful as they are, nativity scenes tell only part of the story of the Incarnation. Hints of the rest of that story are offered in the Blessing of a Christmas Manger or Nativity Scene from the Book of Blessings.

“God of every nation and people, from the very beginning of creation

you have made manifest your love: when our need for a Savior was great

you sent your Son to be born of the Virgin Mary.

To our lives he brings joy and peace, justice, mercy, and love.

Lord, bless all who look upon this manger; may it remind us of the humble birth of Jesus,

and raise up our thoughts to him, who is God-with-us and Savior of all,

and who lives and reigns for ever and ever.”

This blessing tells me that the coming of Christ is for all people and that through Christ, I am forever connected with everyone. It tells me that the coming of Christ was part of God’s plan from the very beginning of creation. It teaches me that Jesus manifests God’s pure, simple and steadfast love. The blessing reminds me that if God comes through ordinary human beings like Mary, God can break through my ordinary life and can come in ways surprising and wondrous. The text tells me that when I surrender, like Mary, to God’s will, I, too, can bear the Christ. I, too, can be a vessel of joy and peace, justice, mercy, and love.

I notice that this blessing isn’t directed to God. “Bless all who look upon this manger;” God doesn’t need my blessing, but I sure need God’s blessing. God has come not for God’s sake, but for the sake of humankind.

This blessing reminds me of the humble and chaotic circumstances surrounding the birth of Jesus. Jesus was conceived in an unmarried woman and when born, he was placed in a feeding trough reserved for animals. After his birth, his family was forced to flee a jealous king who planned to kill him. Despite these circumstances, God chose to be born anyway. This strengthens me to bear witness to God’s presence even when my life is marked by humble chaos.

The blessing ends with the sure and certain hope of the Incarnation.

May we who adorn our homes and churches with nativity sets remember that Christmas is not only about the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus 2000 years ago, but rather that God became flesh and lives with us now, today, forever.

Liturgical Time

“What time is it?” is one of the most asked questions around the world. Perhaps that’s because from the beginning of time, humans have enjoyed marking time. Take a look back at this year’s calendar. How did you mark time? What events did you observe? Birthdays? Anniversaries? How did you celebrate them? When we mark another birthday, for example, we usually celebrate with friends and family who gather together to share a meal and a birthday cake. We also perform some sort of ritual, e.g., we sing Happy Birthday and blow out candles on the cake. On our birthdays, we might remember our past but we don’t reenact our birth! We remember and celebrate in ways that give meaning to our present.

In the same way, events on the liturgical calendar are marked by friends and family who gather together to share a meal and to perform a ritual. We gather to celebrate major occasions like Christmas and Easter and other less solemn occasions throughout the year.

We mark occasions in the life of the universal Church such as the Dedication of St. John Lateran, the cathedral church of Rome, on November 9. We keep anniversaries that pertain to our parish such as the Anniversary of the Dedication of our Church on October 24, and we keep memory of our parish patron, St. Thomas Aquinas, on his feast day January 28. We remember other saints and martyrs on the anniversaries of their death, and we remember Mary, the Mother of God, on several days during the year.

Most of our liturgical calendar is dedicated to mark some aspect of the life of Jesus. Sunday by Sunday and year after year we remember events that happened in the life of Christ. We remember his birth, his childhood, and his ministry. We remember his death, his resurrection, and his ascension. We remember these occasions not by reenacting them, for they could never be repeated, but by remembering and celebrating them in ways that give meaning to the present. If we listen to the texts of the liturgy, we discover that our celebration of these events is always focused on the present.

            “Today is born our Savior, Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11)

                        Psalm refrain for Christmas Mass during the night

            “… today you have revealed the mystery of

            our salvation in Christ as a light for the nations.”

                        Preface of the Epiphany of the Lord

            “This is the night of which it is written:

            the night shall be as bright as day.”

                        The Easter Proclamation (Exsultet)

            “This is the day the Lord has made,

            let us rejoice and be glad.” (Psalm 118:24)

                        Psalm refrain for Easter

These texts call us to an experience with the person of Jesus in our present. They tell us that God meets us right here, right now, today. They remind us that the time to live the Gospel is now. 

Lamb of God

Whether we are going to Grandmother’s house or cooking at home this Thanksgiving, most of us will gather around a table and break bread with family and friends. Breaking bread together has its roots in the word companion. The first part of the word, com means together with in Latin. The second part of the word comes from the Latin panis, meaning bread. To companion someone literally means to break bread with them. This is what Jesus did at the Last Supper and this is what we do whenever we gather around the table of the Eucharist--we break bread together. For the first Christians, the act of breaking bread together was so significant that they named the entire celebration of the Eucharist “the breaking of the bread.”

“They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers.” Acts of the Apostles 2:42

To the Apostles, the breaking of the bread symbolized the unity they shared with Christ and with one another, something echoed by St. Paul in his letter to the Corinthians.

“The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ. Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf.”

1 Corinthians: 16b-17

This symbolism was better expressed in the early years of the church, when the priest broke one loaf for all to share. Nowadays the hosts that are consecrated are pieced and prepared in advance and the priest breaks only his host into smaller pieces.

During this breaking of the consecrated Bread, which is also called the Fraction Rite, the Agnus Dei or Lamb of God is said or sung. The text of the Lamb of God repeats the words spoken by John the Baptist upon seeing Jesus:

“There is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” John 1:29

Biblical scholars say when John calls Jesus the Lamb of God, he is referring to the fourth Servant song in the book of the prophet Isaiah:

      “Though harshly treated, he submitted and did not open his mouth;

Like a lamb led to slaughter or a sheep silent before shearers,

he did not open his mouth . . . My servant, the just one, shall justify the many,

their iniquity he shall bear.” Isaiah 53:7-11

In Aramaic, which would have been spoken by John, the words Talya de’laha can be used to mean both “Lamb of God” and “Servant of God.” In the above passage from Isaiah, echoed by John the Baptist, Jesus is prefigured as the Servant-Lamb.

The Lamb of God always ends with the invocation, “Grant us peace.” Whenever we sing the Lamb of God, we give praise to God who desires to share in our broken humanity and grants us a share in his divinity. God’s mercy calls us to imitate the Lamb of God, who was broken for the sake of others. When we do this, we discover the true meaning of the word companion.

The Great Amen

"Can I get an amen?" That is a question that was often asked during the homilies of our former pastor--then Monsignor David Talley. Talley, who is now the Bishop of the Diocese of Alexandria, Louisiana, was raised in the Southern Baptist faith tradition, where such appeals are  common.

The word amen is used in all major faith traditions. The word is believed to have its roots in Hebrew and means certainty or truth. Found throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, it was used to express agreement or affirmation.

A more unusual translation of amen is said to be found in the story of the Israelites who wandered in the desert for 40 years on their way to the Promised Land. Desert conditions made travel tricky and unreliable. Travelers were vulnerable to heat, cold and violent wind storms. Because they were on the move, they lived in tents and had to find solid ground in which to drive their tent pegs. When they found that solid place in which to anchor their tent, they could be assured of shelter and protection from the elements. For the Israelites, where they placed their tent pegs was a matter of life and death. The word amen came to mean, “Now that I can drive my tent peg into.” In other words, “That is the place where I can anchor my life,” or, “I believe it to be so.”

The word amen also appears in the New Testament and was often used by Jesus to teach a lesson. “Amen, I say to you …” could be translated as, “Truly, I say to you …” The word was adapted for use in the early Church and remains a regular part of our current liturgies. We say the word amen many times at Mass, usually at the end of a greeting or a prayer. But there is one amen that stands above the rest. After the priest says or sings the doxology, “Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honor is yours, for ever and ever,” the people respond with what is supposed to be a rousing AMEN. This is often called the great amen perhaps because it follows the great prayer of thanksgiving.

Because we say the word so often, we might take it for granted, and our response can become lackluster. If we consider the meaning as interpreted by the story of the Israelites, we can note several parallels. We too, like the Israelites, are on a journey to the Promised Land. We too encounter harsh conditions and challenges. We too need to be able to anchor our lives on solid ground.

The Eucharistic Prayer reminds that we do well to stake our lives on Jesus who died and rose and remains with us until the end of time. Can I get an amen?