Homily: Tuesday, 21st Week in Ordinary Time

Readings: 2 Thes 2:1-3, 14-17; • Ps 96 • Mt 23:23-26

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Well…good morning, fellow hypocrites!

That’s right…we really can’t deny it. And Jesus reminds us of this. Continuing His 7 woes, He aimed His words at the Scribes and the Pharisees, but you know He’s speaking to us as well. And what words they were! Straining gnats and swallowing camels…cups full of plunder and self-indulgence…hypocrites! It must have been something to hear!

Years ago, I read something that I’ll share with you. It was from an anonymous 5^th-century commentary on Matthew:

“Tell me, hypocrite, if it is so good to be good, why do you not strive to be truly what you only appear to be? And if it is so bad to be evil, then why do you allow yourself to be in truth what you would never want to appear to be? …Therefore, either be what you appear to be, or appear to be what you are.”

I always liked that. And it makes me think that the sinner, who doesn’t try to hide or cover up his sinfulness, might be treated a lot better at the judgment than the hypocrite whose outward appearance hides the sinful truth. We see it in the Church, in the clergy and in the faithful. None of us seem to be exempt.

In my last parish on Cape Cod, a retired bishop often spent the summer in our town, staying with his sister and her family. He’d also help out our parish by celebrating one of our Sunday Masses.

One Sunday morning, before the final blessing, he called a couple forward who were celebrating their 50^th anniversary. They renewed their vows and then the bishop presented them to the parish, and everyone applauded. He then extended the final blessing, and I gave the dismissal. It was a wonderful Mass.

Afterwards, as I made my way across the parking lot, a parishioner approached me with his family in tow. He didn’t look happy. Now, in matters spiritual, he could be a bit scrupulous…okay, more than a bit. He’d often complain to me about something the pope, or the bishop, or the pastor had said. And I knew I’d hear from him after every homily I preached. I’m probably wrong, but he seemed to believe he was holier than the Church itself, certainly holier than this lowly deacon, which was probably the truth…

But what upset him this day was the congregation’s applause for that couple’s anniversary. I thought he was kidding, so I stupidly laughed a little. That was a mistake. He glared at me and then said, “Applause has no place during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.”

I tried to explain that the Mass is a time of communion…Yes, a Holy Communion with our Lord, but also a communion with each other, and that we should openly celebrate others’ joys and share in their sorrows. Doing so right before we are dismissed to reenter the world is probably a good time.

The Spirit, of course, is wonderful, and He gives us His Word when we need it most. And I found myself turning to St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans, and paraphrasing the Apostle’s wonderful words:

Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Have the same regard for one another; do not be haughty but associate with the lowly; do not be wise in your own estimation [Rom 12:15-16] 

I couldn't express Paul's exact words from memory, but thought I'd paraphrased them rather well. Surprisingly, though, he didn’t say, “Oh, thank you, deacon, for clearing that up.”

No, he just walked away, very displeased with me and our visiting bishop. But perhaps the Spirit’s Word had an impact later.

He was so worried about the minutia -- applause as an offence to liturgy -- and so forgetful of the truly important -- sharing in the joy of a faithful marriage in Christ. Was he a hypocrite? Probably, but then so am I.

Recently I’ve been told by several people that they left the Church because it was filled with hypocrites. I just looked at one of them and said, “Well, yeah! We’re a Church of sinners. Let me know if you find a church that isn't.” I probably didn't change his mind, but sometimes I say things I shouldn't.

It's easy to get all wrapped up in the jots and tittles of our rules and rituals. Yes, we should do things well and right, but we are imperfect creatures, and sometimes we mess up.

Liturgy is really the perfect example. I was responsible for our liturgy here for a number of years, and I was always amazed by the comments, suggestions, and sometimes unkind criticism – often anonymous – that I received. I tried to avoid the attitude highlighted in the old joke that the difference between a liturgist and a terrorist is you can negotiate with a terrorist. I listened and studied and learned and prayed and tried to improve, occasionally with success.

Brothers and sisters, we must remember we’re all susceptible to these attitudes condemned by Jesus. We are re not called to be Pharisees; we are called to love.

Let’s beg God to reveal to us the hypocrisy he already sees in us, so we might know ourselves as God knows us, with that same clarity. Jesus invites us to look inward and not to be afraid at what we may encounter.

How to cleanse the inside of the cup?  Whatever is against justice and mercy and faith must be placed in the light of day. As my mom used to say, “Face the truth, son!” The beginning of our union with God is our ability to face the truth, to offer our weakness with a cry for truth and clarity about how we approach God and our neighbor.

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

The Whys and Wherefores of Liturgical Vestments

Rev. Gerard Ellard, S.J., Jesuit priest, medievalist, and liturgist, was a major player in the early days of the liturgical movement in the United States that preceded the Second Vatican Council. He died in 1963, in the midst of that Council, at the age of 68. A man of true humility and quiet leadership, Father Ellard is probably best known for his textbook, Christian Life and Worship, read and studied by thousands of Catholic college students in years past.

Over the years, as a result of training sessions I have conducted for various lay liturgical ministers, I've concluded that most Catholics don't really have a clue when it comes to the vestments worn by priest or deacon. What are their names, their origins, their significance? Some can name perhaps one vestment -- usually the stole and perhaps the alb -- but many are unable to do even that. Here's an example...

A few weeks ago, as I was standing alongside our pastor greeting folks after Mass, a parishioner approached me and asked, very accusingly, "Deacon, why are you dressed like a priest?"

I was wearing a dalmatic, as I always do at Sunday Mass, and so I replied with a smile, "I'm not. I'm dressed like a deacon. This is a dalmatic, a vestment which should be worn at Mass by the deacon."

This didn't impress him in the least. "Well, it looks just like the thing Father's wearing."

And so I tried to explain further by saying, "You'll notice that my dalmatic has sleeves, while Father's chasuble doesn't."

Apparently this was a meaningless subtlety because he just shook his head and walked off, likely mentally accusing all deacons of being priest-wannabes.

And so, I thought it might be useful to share some of what Fr. Ellard wrote on the subject. The following, written 60 years ago, is his brief explanation of the Roman origins of the liturgical vestments worn by priest and deacon at Mass. I trust you'll find it interesting.
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The ministers at the Sacrifice wear garments such as we now see nowhere else. These are modifications of the ordinary civil dress of the late Empire, say, of the 4th Century. Some of the priestly vestments are garments properly so-called, others are insignia of office.

Amice. In the order in which the vestments are put on, the first is a white, rectangular linen cloth put upon the shoulders and wrapped about the neck. This vestment is called an amice (amicta). It is a survival of the customary neckerchief or scarf of the ancients; by the older authors it is often called 'the protection of the voice'. Originally meant to serve purely practical purposes, to cover the neck and to protect the other vestments from the hair, the amice becomes a very conspicuous item in the Middle Ages, when it was decorated with a wide, rich band of embroidery and allowed to show outside the other garments. Up to a certain point in the Mass it was even worn over the head, a usage that survives still in some monastic orders. With the disappearance of this rich ornamentation, the amice went back to its original, humbler form.

Alb. In the whole of the Roman Empire of the 4th Century the customary body-garment of both sexes and all classes was a sleeved tunic reaching well below the knees and caught at the waist by a girdle. It was of white linen. Later, a short tunic became commoner in civil life, but churchmen kept to the longer form in their official functions. This old tunic lives on in our alb (Latin for white)...The use of lace on the alb is a modern departure from tradition, and destined, it would seem, to disappear before long.

Tunic and Dalmatic. The decorated outer vestment worn by the subdeacon, called a tunic as well as the vesture of the deacon, called a dalmatic, are, in origin, outer tunics, with shorter, wider sleeves, and shorter body. The dalmatic is so called because this style of highly ornamented tunic came from Dalmatia (Croatia region).

Maniple. The maniple, a band of colored, decorated fabric laid across the left forearm, is a relic of a handkerchief carried as an emblem of office by Roman officials. The consul carried such a ceremonial handkerchief and with it gave the signal for the opening of games and other functions. In the first detailed description of a Roman Mass we have, the Pope's handkerchief is used to give the signal to begin Mass. The maniple was formerly made of linen, and by reason of its humble origin was called a sudarium, a sweat cloth, or, because carried in the hand, a manual. Until about the year 1000 this clerical emblem of office was carried in the hand (usually the left); then began the custom of wearing it on the wrist or forearm. When that happened, its original purpose was lost sight of, and instead of white linen it was made of a colored and ornamented fabric.

Stole. Quite a different mark of the clerical order is what is now called a stole ( a Greek word for garment in general). This was in ancient times called the orarium (literally, mouth-cloth). How it was that a long, flowing band, slung over one or both shoulders and hanging loosely bout the body, and originally destined for such humble purposes, should have become a highly prized symbol of the clerical order remains in the present state of our knowledge, an unanswerable question. Old mosaics and pictures show the stole worn in many different ways, even as it is now worn in distinctive ways by bishop, priest and deacon respectively.

Chasuble. The most conspicuous of the sacrificial garments is the chasuble, as we say from the Latin casula, a little house; so called, said St Isidore of Seville, because it covered the whole man. It is a modified form of the ancient paenula, a cone-shaped outer garment reaching down, more or less, the full length of the body all around, and provided with an opening and hood for the head. Designed for protection against all weathers in traveling, it finally became the ordinary outer garment for all wear, even replacing the toga of the high officials. At Rome it continued to be the ordinary outer garment for both sexes and all classes until the end of the 6th Century or later.

Thus, everyone in a Roman church then wore a chasuble. St Augustine speaks of it as the clothing of even the poor, but, of course, it could be something very fine, and only a generation or so later St Fulgentius will not have a colored chasuble because he thought that something for wealthy people. But Fulgentius was a monk and wore his monk's robe at the altar.

In the new European nations the chasuble was at first the ordinary garment of clerical attire for church, street and domestic uses. In the course of time it became reserved for priests and, later still, for priests only at the time of Mass.

The ordinary chasuble of today represents a very truncated form of the ample 'little house' of former ages. The garment, to allow freedom to the hands, had to be caught up over the forearms. Even in classical antiquity the chasuble was often cut somewhat shorter at the sides to facilitate freer movement. As long as pliable silk, the prescribed material for this vestment, continued to be used in making it, there was no great need for radical altering, but it was another thing entirely when stiff, brocaded velvets, themselves heavily embroidered, began to be substituted for silk. Then it was necessary to trim and cut away all that should have been folded. The nadir of the trimming process was reached in the 18th Century. Since that day a gradual reversion to the traditional garment has been making itself felt. This movement will probably be slow in progressing, because it depends in the last instance upon the slow-growing, inner religious sentiment, to which all change in external features of worship corresponds."

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Of course, you won't see many maniples these days, and few priests or deacons even wear the amice. (I wear one occasionally, with a particular alb that doesn't adequately cover the collar of my "civilian" attire.) But alb, stole, dalmatic and chasuble should be familiar vestments to most Catholics.

Changes to Liturgical Texts

As the (sort-of) director of liturgy of our parish, I was asked to give a presentation last evening on the upcoming changes to the English translation of the Roman Missal's liturgical texts. The audience was the local affiliate of the Council of Catholic Women. It wasn't a long talk, under 30 minutes, and I spent more than half of my time with them providing a bit of liturgical history and explaining the reasons behind the textual changes. At that point I offered a few of the more obvious examples, focusing especially on the revisions to the assembly's responses.

I expected to hear some grumbling and negative comments about the changes, but surprisingly everyone seemed very positive. Indeed, I didn't receive a single negative question during the Q&A. I thought they were particularly appreciative of the fact that the changes were being explained and addressed well in advance of their implementation next Advent. This was especially encouraging, and as a result I have begun work on a plan of liturgical catechesis to prepare our parishioners for the revisions. I hope all our parishioners will be as receptive and enthusiastic as these women were last night.

Personally, I'm all in favor of the revised translations. In some of the current English texts the beauty of the Latin phraseology is sadly lost. And in many instances key words and phrases were simply omitted. The Gloria is one of the more obvious examples, but there are far more subtle examples as well. In the response to the Orate, fratres prayer, which the priest prays right before the Preface to the Eucharistic Prayer, the current text has the assembly responding with the words, "May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of his name, for our good and the good of all his Church." And yet, in the Latin Roman Missal, of which these words are supposedly a translation, the last three words of this response are, "Ecclesiae suae sanctae." And so "his holy Church" somehow became "all his Church." For years now, I've wondered why the word "sanctae" (holy) was omitted in translation. Thankfully, it has been restored in the revised translation. Do you think that if hundreds of millions of people had all been praying for the holiness of Christ's Church for the past few decades, it might have made a difference? Just a thought.

God's peace...

New Roman Missal Approved for the U. S.

Here's some good news. In a letter dated March 25, the Vatican has given its approval of the translation of the new U.S. version of the Roman Missal. The actual date for full implementation is still uncertain and will be decided by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), based on a recommendation by its Committee on Divine Worship.

Because of the extent of the changes -- the first truly substantial changes to the liturgy in decades -- bishops and pastors will oversee the catechesis needed to prepare the faithful for their implementation. The USCCB is releasing a publication aimed at helping pastors in this task, the Parish Guide for the Implementation of the Roman Missal, which will be available from USCCB Publishing. To provide additional support for this effort, the bishops have also developed a website which offers current information about the newly revised Missal and the steps recommended by the bishops for its implementation. It also includes a wide range of resources available to parishes as aids to prepare God's people for these changes. Here's the link: http://www.USCCB.org/romanmissal. The site is quite extensive and should greatly ease the process of catechesis and full implementation of these changes to the divine liturgy.

New Roman Missal Website - US Bishops

The US Bishops have launched a new website (http://www.usccb.org/romanmissal/) designed to lead both clergy and laypeople through the upcoming changes to the English language translation of the 2000 edition of the Roman Missal. The changes are many, and include some very different wording to the responses and acclamations made by the people during Mass. Incorporating these changes when the time comes will necessarily be preceded by much catechesis to prepare the faithful. Here's hoping each diocese and parish does a better job instructing the people than most did with the liturgical reforms after the Second Vatican Council.

Recently I spoke with our diocese's director of liturgy and was impressed with the preparations he's making to ensure the changes are understood by both the clergy and the faithful. I only hope that all of our bishops realize that these changes are not trivial and that their implementation deserves attention, time and resources, certainly as much as their annual appeals for donations. The date for full implementation has not yet been set, and I expect we'll have a couple of years to prepare, primarily because of the need to to compose new music that will reflect the changes to the parts of the Mass.

Personally, I'm pleased with the changes since they better reflect the language of the Roman Missal itself and correct many of the poor translations that we have had to live with all these years since the English translation to the 1975 Roman Missal was published.

Anyway, if you want to check out the changes and help prepare yourself in advance of their eventual implementation, click here. Take some time to explore the website, and be sure to visit the "frequently asked questions" (FAQ) and "Examples" pages.

St. Louis University Liturgy Website

I'm teaching a liturgy course to a group of catechists and Catholic school teachers this weekend, and in searching the web for a particular document, I came across this video ad for St. Louis University's liturgy website. It's really a pretty neat video. I can't speak for the website since I haven't checked it out yet...but the video's cool.

Parish Deacons

For several years now I have been my parish's Director of Liturgy, an interesting assignment for which I am uniquely unqualified. I am certainly no liturgist, since I often find myself at a loss when faced with a particular liturgical issue, and usually have to run to the books and documents for the answer. Most liturgists I have known always seemed to be able to provide ready answers to pretty much any liturgical questions that came their way. Ah, well...I will muddle through and trust our liturgies do not stray too far from what the Church intends.

The reason I bring this up is the nearness of Holy Week and Easter, a time of the year when liturgy takes a front row seat and all its elements must be blended smoothly, with grace and holiness. The problem for me is that I spend so much time preparing for the Triduum liturgies of Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil that I really don't have the opportunity to prepare for them spiritually. Even worse -- for me, at least -- is that I usually function as a sort of Master of Ceremonies during the Triduum and find myself necessarily focusing only on the liturgical process, making sure everything "goes well", and unable to appreciate the liturgy as it really is. I suppose that's just the way it is for anyone with liturgical responsibility and rather than whining, I should just thank God for the opportunity to serve Him, even as a part time liturgist. And, fortunately, I have the full support of my pastor and my brother deacons in the parish.

Because our parish is located adjacent to The Villages, a large retirement community here in central Florida, a significant majority of our parishioners are retired age. As you might expect we have relatively few young families and so baptisms are not very common in the parish. We will, however, celebrate an adult baptism at our Easter Vigil Mass, followed by four adult confirmations -- all the result of our budding R.C.I.A. program. We look forward to welcoming these new members into the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.

Another benefit of our location is the size of our parish's diaconal community. We have a total of eight deacons assigned to the parish, and all eight of us are transplants from other dioceses. Four are seasonal deacons (for some reason, they prefer not to be called "snow birds") who spend only part of the year with us; but the other four minister here year round. Given the rapid growth of our parish -- 20 to 30 percent per year -- these men have been a true blessing, and we will certainly miss our seasonal deacons as they begin their northern migration next month.

Seven of us and our wives got together last week for a little R&R in advance of Holy Week. (One of our brother deacons and his wife had to go north to care for a family medical emergency and were unable to join us.) We drove to the nearby resort town of Mt. Dora, enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the lovely, old, 19th century Lakeside Inn, and then took a two-hour boat tour of Lake Dora and the old Dora Canal offering us a glimpse into a more natural, almost primeval Florida. It proved to be a wonderful trip to view some of God's marvelous creatures: bald eagles, osprey, storks, herons, alligators, hawks, snapping turtles, and many other critters that I couldn't identify. I placed a few of the photos I took during our boat trip on flickr.com. Click here to view a slide show of these photos.

Above: Parish deacons and wives on the steps of the Lakeside Inn, Mt. Dora, FL

And so, we had a wonderful day. We not only strengthened the bonds of our community of deacons in the parish, but had an opportunity to enjoy and reflect on the wonders of God's creation, right here in our own backyard.

Blessings and God's peace.