SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams
This past month, the priests, deacons and lay ecclesial ministers of our Diocese met for a workshop on the ars celebrandi, or the “art of celebrating” the sacred liturgy. During discussions with some of the attendants, I thought about certain small practices in the church’s liturgy which in most places have fallen away, but still exist as legitimate parts of the rite and, in some cases are technically still required, even though they are not done in most places.

The Venerable Archbishop Fulton Sheen, in providing commentary to a televised Mass, once remarked that the church’s liturgical vision never totally sacrifices practices that once held a place of honor. So, in that spirit, I thought I would share three of these practices, their history, and why they remain part of our tradition still today.

I remember when I was growing up, I’d see old photos of Mass and notice this tent-looking apparatus sitting in the center of the altar. It was only when I made it to seminary that I learned that traditionally the chalice was veiled during the Mass, to be unveiled at the offertory. The General Instruction of the Roman Missal states, “It is a praiseworthy practice for the chalice to be covered with a veil, which may be either of the color of the day or white.” (118.c) ‘Praiseworthy,’ of course, does not mean required but it does mean that the church considers this practice a good thing and encourages parishes to consider doing it.

We in the church have a tradition of veiling important things. Tabernacles are traditionally veiled, the altar is veiled in cloth, the priest is veiled in vestments. The veiling of the chalice for the first half of the Mass reminds us that this chalice is sacred — consecrated both by a special blessing and by the frequent contact of the Most Precious Blood. Veiling a chalice subconsciously reminds us that this is no mere cup, and it helps us remember to treat sacred things in a reverent and careful manner.

When I unveil the chalice at the offertory, I like to remind myself of the veil of the temple being torn in two. Christ, in this sacrifice on Calvary, opened the way for all of us to participate in true worship; and now, in the Holy Mass, He is once again opening the way for us to participate in His sacrifice.

Regarding the cleaning of the vessels after communion, the General Instruction states, “The purification of the chalice is done with water alone or with wine and water, which is then drunk by whoever does the purification.” (279)

When I was first ordained, I did what most priests do and just purified the chalice with water. But, when I started celebrating for school Masses and was responsible of purifying several chalices, (if I may say so reverently), I was a little nervous about the fact that schools are usually filled with a hundred variants of the common cold, and all those viruses are now inside a single chalice which I am about to drink.

Then, I remembered I could purify the chalice with wine as well. Wine is a natural disinfectant, and it makes sense why the practice of purifying the chalice with wine arose in the middle ages particularly in response to disease. Especially in light of the COVID-19 pandemic, I have been making sure to purify both the chalice and the ciborium with wine.

To purify in this manner, the priest simply pours wine in the chalice first, then follows it with water. The proportion is up to the priest, but should probably be such that the purificator is not totally soiled.

Finally, and this may surprise people, the instruction Redemptionis Sacramentum, promulgated by Pope St. John Paul II in 2004 gives the following direction: “The communion-paten for the communion of the faithful should be retained, so as to avoid the danger of the sacred host or some fragment of it falling.” (93) Most people who remember the communion paten probably associate it with kneeling at the railing as a child before the liturgy was reformed, but technically speaking, this practice is still required in the modern liturgy. These handy patens are usually equipped with a long handle so that the altar sever may hold it out beneath the hands or mouth of the communicant.

It is the devout teaching of the church that every single particle of the Sacred Host is the total Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ. And, for that reason the church is very careful to protect these small particles from any danger of being lost, stepped on, or sucked up into a vacuum cleaner. I started using communion patens at Mass a few months ago and was surprised that even when holding the paten beneath hands during Communion, I nearly always found particles collected on the paten after communion.

One added benefit of the communion paten is that is gives the servers something else to do. Most servers are bored at Mass today because we don’t let them do all things that servers should be doing such as carrying candles and trying not to burn the sacristy down while lighting the incense. Kids who serve as Mass like to be useful, and this is a very reverent way for them to assist during Communion while also teaching them about the holiness of the Sacred Host.

(Father Aaron Williams is parochial vicar at St. Patrick and St. Joseph Meridian.)

Living Well
By Maureen Pratt (Catholic News Service)

An unexpected visit from a friend who lives quite a distance away became a blessing in many respects. Of course, it was delightful to see someone in person after a long span of being apart, even with masks and social distancing.
The visit also prompted me to pick up the pace (and items that needed to be returned to shelves, etc.) of tidying up more “lived in” spaces.

Yet another aspect of the visit has had spiritually profound effects. A renewed sense of eager anticipation energized my activity as the time for the visit drew near.

Much like the hallway that suddenly became brighter when I replaced an old bulb, the thought of extending hospitality overshone the long months of pandemic isolation and drew me into a more profound realization for this holiday season and, especially, Advent:

How we prepare to welcome has a deep impact on what happens when we welcome.

For example, I realized early into preparations for my friend’s visit that I could not do everything in one day. Instead, I made up a schedule, breaking up the tasks into smaller periods of time. I actually think I accomplished more this way, and I certainly wasn’t as tired.

Advent devotions can be approached in much the same way: Instead of thinking of long readings or prayer time, smaller segments can build one on the other, to bring us forward throughout the season.

Observing my surroundings through my guest’s eyes was a good way to notice details that needed attention and put my preparations in the context of wanting to do the best for a good friend. I found the semi-hidden plant leaves that needed pruning, the catalogue I’d meant to discard – some of the “littler” things.

During our soul-searching in Advent, if we try to see ourselves as God sees us – as created in God’s likeness and image, as being so precious to God that we are known by name – we might be able to identify and improve on details of our faith, for example, finding more quiet or better focus, without being so critical or judgmental that we lose sight of God’s love.

The preparations for my friend’s visit made me realize that welcome is work, but need not be toilsome, if we look beyond the “pain.” The bending and stretching and balancing (as in, changing the lightbulb) benefited me as much as it would reflect my care for my friend and was pleasant, good exercise – another unexpected blessing!

So, too, each act of faith between now and Christmas can build our relationships with God and one another, sharing the “reason for the season” in a world where it is sometimes lost.

By the day of the visit, I’d made good progress on many things, but some things remained to be done. Those plants needed more than pruning, some could have used new pots. Another light went out just as the one I’d replaced was installed. The tea I’d have liked to have offered wasn’t available at the store.

I started to play “should have …”

I should have started sooner, I should have anticipated, I should have …

Then, I remembered Luke’s Gospel passage (10:38-42) about Jesus’ visit with Mary and Martha. We hear about Mary sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening, and Martha still distracted (10:40), working away beyond the time of Jesus’ arrival. What a contrast! And how helpful for all who work hard to prepare.

There will undoubtedly always be things left to be done. Yet, once the guest of honor arrives, as with Christmas, it’s time to put aside the work and enjoy!

(Maureen Pratt writes for the Catholic News Service. Her website is www.maureenpratt.com.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI

In the summer of 1854, U.S. President Franklin Pierce sent Isaac Stevens to be governor of Washington Territory, a tract of land controlled by the federal government. Governor Stevens called for a meeting of Native chiefs to discuss the tension between the U.S. government and the Natives. One of the tribes, the Yakima, was stubbornly rebelling, led by their chief, Kamiakin. The Missionary Oblates of Mary Immaculate (the religious order to which I belong) were working with the Yakima nations. Their chief, Kamaikin, turned to one of our Oblate priests, Charles Pandosy, for advice, asking him how many Europeans there were and when they would stop coming. Sadly, the advice that Pandosy gave him was of no consolation to the chief.

In a letter to our Oblate founder in France, Saint Eugene de Mazenod, Pandosy summed up his conversation with the Yakima chief. He told Kamiakin: “It is as I feared. The whites will take your country as they have taken other countries from the Indians. I came from the land of the white man far to the east where the people are thicker than the grass on the hills. Where there are only a few here now, others will come with each year until your country will be overrun with them. … It has been so with other tribes; it will be so with you. You may fight and delay for a time this invasion, but you cannot avert it. I have lived many summers with you and baptized a great number of your people into the faith. I have learned to love you. I cannot advise you or help you. I wish I could.” (Quote from Kay Cronin, Cross in the Wilderness, Mission Press, Toronto, c1960, p. 35.)

One hundred and seventy years later the situation is the same, only the players are different. In 1854, Europeans were coming to America for a myriad of reasons. Some were fleeing poverty, others persecution, others saw no future for themselves in their homeland, others were searching for religious freedom, and others were immigrating because they saw huge possibilities here in terms of career and fortune. But, this was the problem. There were people already living here and these indigenous peoples resisted and resented the newcomers, perceiving their coming as a threat, an unfairness and a seizure of their country. Even before they fully realized how many people would land on their shores, the indigenous nations had already intuited what this would mean, the end to their way of life.

Does any of this sound strangely familiar? I recall a comment I read on the sports pages several years ago which spoke volumes. A baseball player in New York City to play the Yankees shared how, going to the stadium on the subway, he was taken aback by what he saw and heard: There were people of different colors, speaking different languages, and I asked myself, who let all these people into our country? That could have been Chief Kamaikin of the Yakima nation, a hundred and seventy years ago.

Today our borders everywhere are crowded with people trying to enter our Western countries and they are fleeing their homelands for the same reasons as did the original Europeans who came to America. Most of them are fleeing persecution or a hopeless future for themselves in their own countries, even as others are seeking a better career and fortune for themselves. And, like the indigenous peoples, we who now live here have the same concerns that Chief Kamaikin had a hundred and seventy years ago: When will this stop? How many of those people are there? What will this mean for our way of life, for our ethnicity, our language, our culture, our religion?

Whatever our personal feelings about this, the answer to those questions cannot be much different from the answer Father Pandosy gave Chief Kamaikin all those years ago. It’s not going to stop – because it can’t. Why not?

Globalization is inevitable because the earth is round, not endless. Sooner or later, we have no other option but to meet each other, accept each other, and find a way to share space and life with each other. Because the Earth is round, its space and resources are limited, not endless. Moreover, there are millions of people who are unable to live where they are presently living. They will do what they have to for themselves and their families. What’s happening cannot be stopped. In the words of Father Pandosy, we may try to fight and delay this invasion for a time, but we cannot avert it.

Today, we, former immigrants ourselves, are beginning (at least a little) to understand what the indigenous peoples must have felt when we showed up, uninvited, on their shores. It’s our turn now to know what it feels like when a country we consider as ours is progressively filling up with people who are different from us in ethnicity, language, culture, religion and way of life.

What goes around comes around.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a theologian, teacher and award-winning author. He can be contacted through his website www.ronrolheiser.com.)