Osprey Celebrating Good Friday

Early on Good Friday, as our dog, Maddie, and I were heading home from our morning walk, I noticed an osprey orbiting the neighborhood. Something dangled from his talons, but he was too high to see if it were a fish or something else. Maddie and I watched as he continued to fly in wide, lazy circles a few hundred feet above us, but with each circle he flew lower and ever closer to the large live oak tree behind our neighbor's house. We often see this particular osprey in this tree, especially during the spring and summer months.

Just as Maddie and I arrived at our driveway, the osprey landed gently on one of the tree's top branches. Perfect timing! I took Maddie inside, grabbed my camera, and went into the backyard. Sure enough, he was still there, high atop the tallest tree in the neighborhood. There appeared to be something on the branch with him, but he was too far away to see if it were a fish or just a bump on the branch. Fortunately my good telephoto lens solved the problem. As I moved around my neighbor's yard searching for the best position, I took a mess of photos, and have included a couple of them below. To view them up close and personal, click on the photos.

Osprey checking me out

When I downloaded the photos to the PC and looked at them via Photoshop, I was truly surprised at the size of the fish he had carried to the tree. The poor fish looked as if he had died of fright and the osprey's expression simply emphasized his status as a particularly efficient predator.

Osprey guarding his catch

As is fitting on Good Friday, the osprey was eating only fish. It is, of course, a day of abstinence, when we Catholics abstain from eating meat. But it's also a day in which we fast, and the size of that fish might be a bit problematic. 

Liturgy and Easter

Last weekend we completed the most sacred time of our liturgical year, a time when we recall God's saving act of love, the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of our Lord, Jesus Christ. The Church calls those three days the Triduum of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil.  

On Holy Thursday we came together as a parish and celebrated the Mass of the Lord's Supper; and in remembering His Last Supper, we celebrated too His institution of the Eucharist and the priesthood. Perhaps the most moving part of the liturgy is the Washing of the Feet at which our two priests, following the example of our Lord, washed the feet of twelve parishioners. It is a good reminder, not only to the clergy but to all Christians, that we are called to serve not to be served.

I haven't seen the exact figure, but I estimate that close to 1,000 parishioners attended our Holy Thursday Mass.

Then, to accommodate all those who planned to attend, we scheduled two Good Friday liturgies, one at the traditional time of 3 p.m. and a second at 6 p.m. No Mass is celebrated on Good Friday, but all present took part in a Liturgy of the Word, the adoration of the Cross, and then came together to receive our Lord in Holy Communion. At Thursday's Mass the pastor consecrated enough hosts to accommodate parishioners who took part in the Good Friday services. Probably upwards of 1,500 people attended the two services. 

On Saturday evening, just after sunset, we celebrated the Easter Vigil Mass. Always a beautiful liturgy, it began with the blessing of the Paschal Candle. Carrying the candle the deacon, followed by the other ministers, processed into the church which was illuminated only by the hand-held candles of the parishioners. The deacon then chanted the Exsultet, the song of Easter joy and praise. The extensive readings from Sacred Scripture highlighted the clear foreshadowing of Easter found throughout the Old Testament and contributed to our celebration of the fulfillment of God's loving plan for our redemption and salvation. During the Vigil Mass we also celebrated a baptism and received two people into the Church. All three were then confirmed and celebrated their first Holy Communion, making the liturgy even more special.

As the deacon in the parish with some responsibility for things liturgical, I have to be careful. Acting as Master of Ceremonies it's too easy to get so caught up fretting about the liturgy and its "mechanics" that I fail to take in its beauty and purpose. During the liturgy I must constantly remind myself of God's goodness and the wonder of the saving events we celebrate. And so we praise God for giving us this opportunity to thank Him through these Triduum celebrations. It was a very special time for our large and growing parish community.

Praise God -- praise Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

Pope Benedict's Good Friday Reflection

After the Stations of the Cross at the Colosseum on Good Friday, Pope Benedict gave the following reflection.

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters,

This evening, in faith, we have accompanied Jesus as he takes the final steps of his earthly journey, the most painful steps, the steps that lead to Calvary. We have heard the cries of the crowd, the words of condemnation, the insults of the soldiers, the lamentation of the Virgin Mary and of the women. Now we are immersed in the silence of this night, in the silence of the cross, the silence of death. It is a silence pregnant with the burden of pain borne by a man rejected, oppressed, downtrodden, the burden of sin which mars his face, the burden of evil. Tonight we have re-lived, deep within our hearts, the drama of Jesus, weighed down by pain, by evil, by human sin.

What remains now before our eyes? It is a crucified man, a cross raised on Golgotha, a cross which seems a sign of the final defeat of the One who brought light to those immersed in darkness, the One who spoke of the power of forgiveness and of mercy, the One who asked us to believe in God’s infinite love for each human person. Despised and rejected by men, there stands before us “a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity, one from whom others hide their faces” (Is 53:3).

But let us look more closely at that man crucified between earth and heaven. Let us contemplate him more intently, and we will realize that the cross is not the banner of the victory of death, sin and evil, but rather the luminous sign of love, of God’s immense love, of something that we could never have asked, imagined or expected: God bent down over us, he lowered himself, even to the darkest corner of our lives, in order to stretch out his hand and draw us to himself, to bring us all the way to himself. The cross speaks to us of the supreme love of God and invites, today, to renew our faith in the power of that love, and to believe that in every situation of our lives, our history and our world, God is able to vanquish death, sin and evil, and to give us new, risen life. In the Son of God’s death on the cross, we find the seed of new hope for life, like the seed which dies within the earth.

This night full of silence, full of hope, echoes God’s call to us as found in the words of Saint Augustine: “Have faith! You will come to me and you will taste the good things of my table, even as I did not disdain to taste the evil things of your table... I have promised you my own life. As a pledge of this, I have given you my death, as if to say: Look! I am inviting you to share in my life. It is a life where no one dies, a life which is truly blessed, which offers an incorruptible food, the food which refreshes and never fails. The goal to which I invite you … is friendship with the Father and the Holy Spirit, it is the eternal supper, it is communion with me … It is a share in my own life (cf. Sermo 231, 5).

Let us gaze on the crucified Jesus, and let us ask in prayer: Enlighten our hearts, Lord, that we may follow you along the way of the cross. Put to death in us the “old man” bound by selfishness, evil and sin. Make us “new men”, men and women of holiness, transformed and enlivened by your love.

Homily: Good Friday

I didn't preach this afternoon; our pastor did. Anyway, I was too busy acting as Master of Ceremonies to do any preaching. But I thought I'd share a Good Friday homily I delivered a few years ago. I hope it helps you come closer to Our Lord and perhaps leave you with a different appreciation of His Passion and Death.

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“Preach the gospel constantly; if necessary, use words" -- so counseled St. Francis of Assisi. And whenever I listen to the passion story, I find myself thinking of this wonderful saint.

The great cathedral in Milan was filled with people who had come to hear Francis preach.  There were no electric lights in the 13th Century. It was growing dark, because Francis had arrived a little late. He climbed up on the high altar and placed a candle by the feet of Jesus on the Cross, illuminating His wounded feet. Then he placed one by His side, opened for us; then one by His pierced hand, pinned to the Cross; then by the other hand; and finally he placed one by the crown of thorns. Francis then walked out of the church.

What else is there to say? Unfortunately, I’m not saintly like Francis, so I have to use words when I preach.

Sometimes I think we’ve heard the passion story so often it has ceased to impress us. Or perhaps we belittle Christ’s sufferings, believing that because He was the Son of God it was somehow different for Him, that it wasn’t real, like human suffering. It’s important to be clear about this: Jesus’ sufferings were very real and more intense than anything you and I might endure. And they encompassed so much.

The agonizing hours He spent in the garden, all the while ignored by His three closest friends. And later to be abandoned by these and by virtually all whom He loved...even betrayed by one of them. He was arrested, tried and convicted for something He never did; falsely accused and subjected to a steady stream of lies. Insulted, taunted, repeatedly struck and spit on, flogged almost to the point of death. Then the King of Kings was painfully and ignominiously crowned with thorns. Finally came the shame of being condemned and executed like a common criminal. And as He died, He was forced to endure more taunts, insults and mockery.

And through it all, the Father kept His silence. Can we even begin to plumb the depths of Christ’s suffering? Yet all this suffering would have been wasted, it would not have redeemed a single soul, if Jesus had not endured it with love. It was not just Christ’s suffering that redeemed the world. It was His love – the love with which He bore and offered His sufferings to the Father for us.

There’s an awful lot of suffering in our world today. Just read the headlines. Watch the evening news. Or perhaps you need only look at those seated near you. Illness, the death of a loved one, a child who has strayed and turned his back on God, financial problems, family strife, addictions…all these sufferings are very real in our lives and in the lives of those we know. But have we learned to bear our sufferings as Jesus taught us?

Even though surrounded by darkness, the light of His love burned brightly and enlightened others. He prayed for His executioners. He welcomed the good thief to paradise. With one look of compassion he brought tears to the eyes of Peter. He died because He did the will of the Father – freely and out of love. He didn’t simply endure His sufferings. He suffered because of His great love for you.

Suffering that is merely endured does nothing for our souls except harden them. It just turns us inward and floods us with self-pity, the first and normal reaction to suffering. But self-pity is a cancer that erodes our faith, our courage, and our capacity to feel compassion for others…our capacity to love.

Thomas Merton once wrote that, “The Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy. For nothing so easily becomes unholy as suffering.” Now I’m not suggesting that you imitate those who have an almost morbid love of suffering. From my experience, they tend to be dour, humorless people. No. Christ wants us to love. And love can cause the greatest suffering of all – heartbreak. But it also brings the greatest joy. And God wants us to be joyful. That’s why today is Good Friday, and not Bad Friday. It’s good because it’s the ultimate manifestation of God’s overwhelming love for you -- not some generic love, but a very personal, individual love.

And so today, as we approach to venerate the cross of Christ, let’s all listen to Jesus as He prays for His killers: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” And when Easter arrives, let’s not return to our homes and take up where we left off, carrying the burdens of things we can’t forgive.

“Don’t cry for me,” Jesus told the women of Jerusalem, “Cry for yourselves and for your children.” Let us not then weep for Jesus. Rather let us follow the example of Peter, who wept bitter tears for his own sins. Then maybe we’ll be able to forgive those who sin against us.

God’s Peace.

Good Friday Reading

Countless books have been written on the Passion, Death and Resurrection or Our Lord Jesus Christ; and while I've read only a tiny percentage of them, I do have my favorites. Today I will focus on just one.

I realize it's a bit late to offer recommendations for your Good Friday reading since we're already in the midst of that holy day, but the book I have been reading this Holy Week is among the very best I have read. Written by A. G. Sertillanges, a French Dominican priest who died in 1948, What Jesus Saw from the Cross, is far more than a book. Indeed, one reviewer aptly called it "a retreat, a pilgrimage, and a holy hour -- all in one book!"

Father Sertillanges spent many years in Jerusalem, walking its streets and  meditating on the events of those final days of Our Savior's life on earth. It is a remarkable and very intense book that places you right alongside Jesus as He completes His redemptive mission in perfect obedience to the Father.

It is one of those classic books that was largely forgotten until Sophia Institute Press reprinted it in 1996. I try to find the time to reread it every Holy Week, and occasionally turn to it for homiletic inspiration throughout the year. I've also found it to be a wonderful source for Ignatian meditation on Our Lord's Passion.

You can purchase the book online directly from the publisher, or from Amazon. Buying directly from Sophia Institute Press might cost a few dollars more, but those dollars will help them to carry out their mission to "nurture the spiritual, moral, and cultural life of souls and to spread the Gospel of Christ in conformity with the teachings of the magisterium of the Roman Catholic Church."

Blessings on this Holy Day.