Category Archives: Columnists

The Mass of Easter Day

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SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams
The last segment of our study of the liturgies of Holy Week is the Mass of Easter Day. As I mentioned in an earlier column, historically there was no special Mass for Easter Day, per se. The Vigil was originally envisioned as lasting all-night and then ending shortly before dawn, making the Vigil Mass the Mass of the day as well. However, as time went on and the Vigil grew more and more complicated, it became more common to celebrate a separate Mass on Easter morning with its own proper prayer texts and readings.
This is why apart from the presence of the sequence (Victimæ Paschale Laudes), the Easter Mass is no different from any normal Sunday Mass — having no special rites or particular rubrics as we see in the liturgies during the week. As a side-effect, this serves to underscore the Paschal character of every Sunday celebration. Each Sunday, we revisit the mystery of Our Lord’s Resurrection. It is fitting that when we arrive for Mass on Easter Morning that we feel as if everything is once again as it should be. The Resurrection, after all, is a divine recapitulation — Christ restores creation to its state before the fall, which is why the Resurrection happened in a garden. Humanity fell from grace within a garden, so it is fitting that our restoration to grace would likewise occur in a garden.
If we compared the celebration of Easter Day from the traditional rite of Mass to our modern celebration, we would find very little textual differences. The prayers and readings are virtually unchanged. The modern rite, however, does give the interesting option to use the Gospel of the Road to Emmaus at Easter Masses which occur in the evening, which gives this well-loved passage its own proper place in the lectionary.

Father Aaron Williams

The sequence of Easter Day is a beautiful work of Christian poetry. The text contains a curious passage where the singer asks Mary Magdalene to retell us the story of the Resurrection, making this the only time in any liturgical text where we address someone other than God. Even on feast days of the Blessed Mother, liturgical texts never address Mary directly, but always speak to God regarding the mystery being celebrated. The Easter sequence is the one exception. This, perhaps, can underscore the unique role Mary Magdalene played in the early church as the ‘Apostle to the Apostles’ — announcing to all of the Apostles the news of the Resurrection.
Though our modern celebration of Easter is not particularly unique from any other Mass, there are a few examples from history of some local churches having their own customary rites associated with Easter Day. Perhaps the most significant of these comes from the Medieval English liturgy. The missals of Salisbury and York explain a rite which preceded the Easter Sunday Mass where the priest and ministers first process to the altar which served as the Altar of Repose during the Paschal Triduum. Unlike our modern celebration where the Blessed Sacrament is restored to the normal tabernacle after communion at the Easter Vigil, in the English custom the Blessed Sacrament remained secure at the Altar of Repose until the Mass of Easter Day.
Once the priest reaches the altar, the choir would begin singing the traditional hymn of thanksgiving (Te Deum) while the priest slowly raised the ciborium up from the altar and over his head, as if Christ was literally rising up from the tomb. For this reason, the English traditionally called this altar the ‘sepulcher’ instead of the ‘altar of repose.’
After the elevation of the ciborium, the priest would carry the Blessed Sacrament in procession back to the normal tabernacle — traditionally with the procession proceeded by a banner or image depicting the Risen Christ. We find a similar custom in Medieval Spain, except there it was more common for a single Host to be used rather than a full ciborium.
Some medieval parishes were even equipped with a special tabernacle or pyx which was suspended over the altar by a pulley system. In this case, the ‘elevation’ rite occurred by placing the Blessed Sacrament inside this tabernacle and then slowly winding the pulley until the tabernacle reached its normal height. An example of a tabernacle of this sort can be found in the oratory chapel of the Dominican parish in New York City: St. Vincent Ferrer. This was such a common ritual in European tradition that by the time of the renaissance it became common for churches to have a golden dove suspended over the altar with a small opening to serve as a pyx.
Suffice it to say by the time of the 19th century Enlightenment, this rite was no longer seen as effective as it was on Medieval Christians and most local churches began to drop it from their liturgical texts until by the dawn of the 20th century it essentially disappeared.

(Father Aaron Williams is the administrator at St. Joseph Parish in Greenville.)

My father’s shirt

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GUEST COLUMN
By Reba J. McMellon, M.S., LPC
Matthew 11:30 – For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
I have a photograph of me taken several years ago on Memorial Day. I am wearing my father’s army shirt from the Korean War. The medal around my neck has the emblem commemorating 50 years since the Korean War. I know I’m supposed to call it a conflict, but it deserves the word war, in my book.
I don’t even know how to describe all that in a way that it makes sense to non-veterans. That is because I tuned out most of my dad’s war stories while he was still living. Since his death, I feel like a custodian for what he stood for. The good that he stood for.
Korea is in the news again. I find it fascinating now. I feel proud of what those young men did. How many even know the dates of the Korean war? Was it North Korea or South Korea? What was the conflict about? Now, I know. Now, it matters to me.

Reba J. McMellon, M.S.,LPC

That’s just an example of how my father’s death has affected me. He was a man’s man, to say the least. He was a gruff, take no prisoners man and was the head of a family of women.
He wasn’t the peace maker but the policy holder. I find myself in that role. I’m not trying to fill his shoes, but I am wearing his army shirt.
Can you believe it fits me? My Dad was always a large man, in my eyes. Now I realize, at the age of 18, he was my size. For those of you who don’t know me, that’s 120 pounds soaking wet. If I exaggerate.
Much of my father’s agitation and gruff demeanor was attributed to being a war veteran. That may or may not have been true. The point is, as he began needing more care due to his health, he showed a side to him that I will admire for the rest of my life.
Talk about a hero. He went out of this world with the dignity of a war hero for sure.
It was a five-year stretch, after his last by-pass surgery. When he couldn’t walk far enough to get to a doctor’s office, he let me push him in a wheelchair. That took dignity on his part. He remained cheerful and complimented me constantly. Sometimes he liked to call me Charlie, for reasons I never understood.
Managing him, his chair, myself and sometimes my mom wasn’t for the faint hearted. It really did take skill. I’d push the door open, swing him around and catch the door with my foot or backside, in time to pull him in backward-all while managing to keep my purse from falling off my shoulder. I wasn’t always successful. Asking my dad to hold my purse was never an option, in my mind. I would not compromise his dignity in that way. Thank goodness cross-body purses became popular. I never had to stoop to a fanny pack … Besides, a fanny pack is too small for the inevitable mound of medical paperwork.
My father went into hospice care in November 2010. He remained in his house of 46 years. He had congestive heart failure and COPD. Many diseases linger. This one is certainly no exception.
We went through many stages. The day we came home from the emergency room with a hospital bed in his living room was big. But that did not stop his dignity.
He always welcomed visitors. He moved the two feet from the bed to his place at the table every day, even when we cautioned him not to. If the noise from his oxygen machine got on his nerves, he attempted to get out of bed and turn the thing off himself. That was not always a successful decision, but he did not let that keep him from what independence and say-so he had left.
The last few months were winter. It was a very cold winter for our region. Many after midnight calls came. It was always a fall (or slide) to the floor. It never failed that he greeted us with a strong and welcoming voice. See what I mean about dignity. A war hero. A vet. We would greet each other like two soldiers.
The next day he would brag on us a lot. He’d say, “I don’t know how you get me up off the floor so easily.” To which I would reply, “I’ve had training, Daddy.”
Maybe that is one reason why it was so hard to see him go. How do you close the chapter on someone like that? How does anybody watch as they close the casket on a loved one-much less your Daddy?
My father’s legacy did not end when they closed the lid. As a matter of fact, that’s when it really began.
This will be the tenth Father’s Day without my father. It hasn’t been ten years since he left. It has been ten years and three months.
On Father’s Day, Memorial Day and Veteran’s Day, I wear my father’s Korean War shirt. Much of his role in the family passed to me. I thank him for showing me how to soldier on with dignity.
My father’s last words to me were, “If you can get me comfortable, I’m going to go on out of here.”
He did. I thank him for trusting me and letting me love him in ways that were not possible before his health declined.
Caregiving does not have to be a burden. If you will go with it, it can be quite healing.

(Reba J. McMellon, M.S. is a licensed professional counselor with 35 years of experience. She worked in the field of child sexual abuse and adult survivors of sexual abuse for over 25 years. She continues to work as a mental health consultant, public speaker and freelance writer in Jackson, Mississippi. Reba can be reached at rebaj@bellsouth.net.)

Mississippi native ordained to Dominican order

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KNEADING FAITH
By Fran Lavelle
NEW ORLEANS – Father James Martin Nobles, OP formerly known as Adam Nobles was ordained a Dominican priest on June 12 at St. Dominic Catholic Church in New Orleans. He was born in New Orleans and raised in Fernwood, Mississippi. His parents, Dr. Jim and Penny, had five children, Adam being the mold breaker.
I will never forget the first day I met Adam. A ruddy cheeked cherub showed up in the sacristy at St. Joseph’s Catholic Church in Starkville in the fall of 2008. He was one of the many new Catholic freshmen moving to Starkville that fall. Like his contemporaries he was full of energy, had many hopes and dreams, and was anxious about this new chapter of life. But unlike his contemporaries, Adam had been accepted by the Diocese of Jackson to pursue priestly formation with the caveat that his first two years of undergraduate education would be at one of Mississippi’s public universities. Lucky for me, Adam was sent to Mississippi State.
For those of us lucky enough to work in youth and young adult ministry there are times in our ministry when we just know a particular student is going to test our limits. While this does not sound flattering at all Adam will tell you it is true.
The recent high school graduate that I met in 2008 had it all figured out, or at least he thought so. I am not one to let the misgivings of youth get in the way of my call to serve with love. I am grateful Father Kent Bowlds sent Adam to Mississippi State for those first two years of his formation. I witnessed his maturation and his growing understanding of who and whose he is.

Father James Martin Nobles, OP (formerly known as Adam Nobles) was ordained on Saturday, June 12 for the Province of St. Martin de Porres Order of Friars Preachers. He will serve in the Diocese of Memphis. Father Nobles attended St. Alphonsus McComb and spent time “kneading” his faith with Fran Lavelle while a student at Mississippi State University. (Photo courtesy of Father Nobles)

Adam was very involved with our campus ministry program. He served on our leadership team, took mission trips, went on retreats and taught CCD.
I remember one day Adam stopped by to see me and told me about how he got in trouble with the DRE for taking his class to the Knights of Columbus pancake breakfast instead of class one Sunday morning. She was concerned that the children in the other grades would feel left out. Instead of feeling defeated he came to me to help devise a plan to allow the other classes the opportunity to attend the pancake breakfast too.
Of all of the gifts Adam shared with his fellow Catholics at Mississippi State his laughter was, and is, his enduring legacy. He is one of those good souls that God blessed with an extra dose of holy laughter when Adam was born. Anyone who knows anything about holy laughter is that we laugh with, and not at, someone else. It is the kind of laughter that leaves one’s sides hurting for hours if not days. We did a lot of laughing and had our share of tears in those two short years.
In 2010 it was time for Adam to leave us and go to St. Joseph Seminary College to complete his bachelor’s degree in Philosophy and Theological Studies. In 2012, he entered Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans. Several of our younger priests in the diocese studied with him there. I am certain the stories of shenanigans they can tell would fill a book.
Throughout his formation Adam was diving deeper into who and whose he is. From this place of deep reflection and introspection he discerned that being a diocesan priest was not what God was calling him to. After months of prayer Adam found consolation in the charism of the Dominican Order. In 2014, Adam began the long journey to priesthood as a Dominican friar. No doubt the synthesis of active and contemplative aspects of the order and the richness of community life spoke to Adam.
Over the past nearly thirteen years I have had the privilege to watch a ruddy cheeked cherub with an attitude grow into a compassionate servant leader and preacher. Over the years he has shared milestones with me. With each phase of his formation and education the easy going, fun loving guy I first met was still present, but I also witnessed the emergence of the deeply grounded caring man he is today. I recall his grand ideas of what he thought priesthood was all about. That too has changed. He is someone who now seeks those on the periphery and understands what it means to serve them. Our phone conversations still include robust outbursts of laughter and always end with “I love you.”
That is one thing I know for sure will not change now that he has been ordained a priest. We are all given opportunities to accompany others in this journey. Finding the sacred in the ordinary and not taking oneself too seriously are critical elements in accompaniment for the long haul. My dear Father James Martin Nobles, you know well how to do both. I pray you always will.

(Fran Lavelle is the Director of Faith Formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)

Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul, Apostles

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By Father Clement “Clem” Olukunle Oyafemi
JACKSON – Early in the year 2002, a few months after the terrorist attack on the twin towers in New York (9/11), I was invited to officiate at a wedding in Detroit. It was a time of extreme fear and uncertainty throughout the entire country. No one was willing to trust anyone.
So, I flew from New York to Detroit, landing around 6 p.m., early enough for the wedding rehearsal. Dressed fully in my clerical wear, I made it easier for anyone to identify me, and I was also expecting my designated driver to stand at the airport with my name on card as was usual.
Unfortunately, there was no sign with my name, nor was there anyone to ask who I was. I waited and waited at the airport but there was no one to get me. By midnight I made up my mind I was going to stay the night in the nearest hotel and then take a cab to the church the next day to witness the wedding.
As I was approaching the front desk, two young men moved toward my direction, and one of them intentionally brushed his elbow against me and quickly said, “Am sorry sir.” I looked at him and smiled. Then he began a conversation. “By the way, are you Father Clem from New York? Then I said, “Yes, why are you asking?” And the man responded, “Well, I am your designated driver. We have been waiting here for six hours and we couldn’t find you.”
I told the two young men, “I have been here for six hours also, and I have been looking for my name on a sign, but couldn’t find it.” The man responded, “Dr. Cochabamba made a sign with your name on it and gave it to us when we were leaving for the airport. But we threw it away telling him, ‘We know what a priest looks like.’”
I asked him, “So why didn’t you find me? As you can see, I’m wearing my clerical suit.” The other man responded, “Because, we were told that your name is Father Clement, and you were coming from New York. We pictured a tall, white man with a beard, and in his early sixties. So, when we saw you, we did not pay attention, because you did not match the image of the ‘Father Clem’ we had in our heads.”

Father Clement Olukunle Oyafemi

Just like the two designated drivers in the story, who had me pictured incorrectly in their minds, the majority of the people, in the time of Jesus, had a different image of the Messiah in their minds. Jesus didn’t “fit the mold” of their expected image of the savior. And that is why they did not accept him.
By asking the question, “Who do you say that I am?” Jesus was questioning his disciples about his identity. (cf Mt 16:15) This question is very essential to the Christian faith. It is very important for us to know the identity of Jesus so that we may relate correctly with him. And trust me, Jesus will never entrust his church to those who do not know him.
Peter’s confession, as we see in the gospel passage, represents the apostles, and all people who believe in Jesus as the Messiah, and the Son of God. The response given by the apostles to the question, “Who do people say that I am?” shows, clearly, that many people, in the time of Jesus, did not really know him. And if you do not know a person’s identity, you may not know how to relate to him/her. Some thought he was Elijah, or Jeremiah, or one of the prophets. They were very much mistaken. They did not know him, even after three years of his mission among them.
Notably those two men who came to the airport had a different image of me in their heads. Similarly, there are so many Christians today who do not really know Christ. They neither know his person nor his teaching. So how can they truly follow him? Someone can go to church for one hundred years without knowing Christ. The knowledge we are talking about is not book knowledge. It is experiential knowledge. If I may ask rhetorically; how can we love who we do not know? How can we serve who we do not love? Leadership in the church is based on loving service. And that is a big challenge for us today.
The universal church celebrates two great personalities in the history of Christianity – Sts. Peter and Paul on June 29. These great apostles knew the true identity of Christ. Peter was chosen by Christ to be his first vicar on Earth (pope). He was endowed with the powers of the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven. (cf Mt 16:13-19) He was charged with the role of shepherd of Christ’s flock after having affirmed his love for Christ, three times. (cf Jn 21:15-17) St. Peter led the church and suffered martyrdom in the year 64 AD. Buried at the hill of the Vatican, recent excavations revealed his tomb on the very site of St. Peters Basilica. The head of the universal church is called “pope”, which means “father.” Pope Francis is the 266th pope after St. Peter.
Although Paul did not meet Christ in person, he met him in a miraculous way. Christ chose him after his conversion on the road to Damascus. (cf Acts 9:1-16)
Paul is regarded as the greatest missionary of all time. He was advocate of pagans and called the apostle of the Gentiles. Paul testified to Christ, not only in words, but in action. He traveled, worked and taught more than any of the apostles who were called before him. Only Pope John Paul II has surpassed him in terms of missionary journeys. Like Peter, Paul also suffered martyrdom. He was beheaded and buried on the site where the Basilica, bearing his name, now stands.
As we celebrate the Solemnity of Sts. Peter and Paul, let us pray that God may continue to raise courageous and fearless leaders to lead his church from generation to generation. Through the intersession of Sts. Peter and Paul, may the Lord sustain the church and keep us true to his teachings. Amen.

(Father Clement Olukunle Oyafemi – Father “Clem” is the Coordinator of the Intercultural Ministry of the Diocese since 2020. He has two master’s degrees, one in theology and one in religious education and a bachelor’s degree in philosophy. He shares with Sister Thea his passion for the Lord and music. Father Clem founded the Rejoice Ministry of African Worship Songs –AFRAWOS– in 2002.)

San Pedro y San Pablo, apóstoles y dos hombres en un aeropuerto

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Por padre Clemente
A principios del año 2002, unos meses después del ataque terrorista a las torres gemelas en Nueva York, el 11 de septiembre, me invitaron a oficiar una boda en Detroit, Michigan. Fue una época de miedo e incertidumbre extremos en todo el país. Nadie estaba dispuesto a confiar en nadie. Entonces, volé desde LaGuardia, Nueva York a Detroit, aterrizando alrededor de las 6 p.m., lo suficientemente temprano para el ensayo de la boda. Vestido completamente con mi ropa de oficina, esperaba que mi conductor designado estuviera en el aeropuerto con mi nombre en la tarjeta como de costumbre. Desafortunadamente, no había ningún cartel con mi nombre, ni nadie que me preguntara quién era. Esperé y esperé en el aeropuerto, pero no había nadie que me recogiera. A la medianoche decidí pasar la noche en el hotel más cercano y luego tomar un taxi a la iglesia al día siguiente para presenciar la boda.
Cuando me acercaba a la recepción, dos jóvenes se movieron en mi dirección, y uno de ellos rozó intencionalmente su codo contra mí y rápidamente dijo: “Lo siento, señor”. Lo miré y sonreí. Luego inició una conversación; por cierto, ¿es usted el Padre Clem de Nueva York? Luego dije: “Sí, ¿por qué preguntas?” Y el hombre respondió: “Bueno, soy su conductor designado. Llevamos seis horas esperando aquí y no pudimos encontrarlo. Les dije a los dos jóvenes: “Yo también he estado aquí durante seis horas y he estado buscando mi nombre en un cartel, pero no pude encontrarlo”. El hombre respondió: “Dr. Cochabamba hizo un cartel con tu nombre y nos lo dio cuando salíamos hacia el aeropuerto. Pero lo tiramos diciéndole: ‘Sabemos cómo es un sacerdote’”. Le pregunté: “Entonces, ¿por qué no me encontraste? Como puede ver, estoy usando mi traje de oficina”. El otro respondió: “Porque nos dijeron que su nombre es Padre Clement y venías de Nueva York. Nos imaginamos a un hombre alto, blanco, con barba y de unos sesenta años. Entonces, cuando te vimos, no hicimos caso, porque no coincidías con la imagen del “P. Clem” que teníamos en la cabeza.

Padre Clement Olukunle Oyafemi

Al igual que los dos conductores designados en la historia anterior, que me habían representado incorrectamente en sus mentes, la mayoría de las personas, en el tiempo de Jesús, tenían una imagen diferente del Mesías en sus mentes. Jesús no “encajaba en el molde” de su imagen esperada del salvador. Y por eso no lo aceptaron.
Haciendo la pregunta, “¿Quién dices que soy?” Jesús estaba cuestionando a sus discípulos sobre su identidad. Mt 16:15. Esta pregunta es muy esencial para la fe cristiana. Es muy importante para nosotros conocer la identidad de Jesús para poder relacionarnos correctamente con él. Y créame, Jesús nunca confiará su Iglesia a quienes no lo conozcan.
La confesión de Pedro representa a los apóstoles y a todas las personas que creen en Jesús como el Mesías y el Hijo de Dios. La respuesta de los apóstoles a la pregunta: “¿Quién dice la gente que soy?” muestra, claramente, que mucha gente, en la época de Jesús, no lo conocía realmente. Y si no conoce la identidad de una persona, es posible que no sepa cómo relacionarse con ella. Algunos pensaron que era Elías, Jeremías o uno de los profetas. Estaban muy equivocados. No lo conocieron, incluso después de tres años de su misión entre ellos.
Como los dos hombres del aeropuerto, hay tantos cristianos hoy en día que realmente no conocen a Cristo. No conocen su persona ni su enseñanza. Entonces, ¿cómo pueden realmente seguirlo? Alguien puede ir a la iglesia durante cien años sin conocer a Cristo.
El conocimiento del que estamos hablando no es conocimiento de libro. Es conocimiento experiencial. Si puedo preguntar retóricamente; ¿Cómo podemos amar a quien no conocemos? ¿Cómo podemos servir a quienes no amamos?
El liderazgo en la Iglesia se basa en un servicio amoroso. Y ese es un gran desafío para nosotros hoy.
En junio la Iglesia Universal celebra a dos grandes personalidades en la historia del cristianismo: los santos Pedro y Pablo. Estos grandes apóstoles conocían la verdadera identidad de Cristo. Pedro fue elegido por Cristo para ser su primer vicario en la tierra – Papa. Estaba dotado de los poderes de las llaves del Reino de los Cielos, Mt 16:13-19. Se le encargó el papel de pastor del rebaño de Cristo después de haber afirmado tres veces su amor por Cristo, Jn 2: 15-17. San Pedro dirigió la Iglesia y sufrió el martirio en el año 64 d.C. Enterrado en la colina del Vaticano, las excavaciones recientes revelaron su tumba en el mismo sitio de la Basílica de San Pedro. El jefe de la Iglesia Universal se llama “Papa”, que significa “padre”. El Papa Francisco es el Papa número 266 después de San Pedro.
Aunque Pablo no conoció a Cristo en persona, lo conoció de una manera milagrosa. Cristo lo eligió después de su conversión en el camino a Damasco, Hch 9: 1-16. Paul es considerado el más grande misionero de todos los tiempos. Abogado de los paganos y llamado apóstol de los gentiles. Pablo testificó de Cristo, no solo con palabras, sino con hechos. Viajó, trabajó y enseñó más que cualquiera de los apóstoles que fueron llamados antes que él. Solo el Papa Juan Pablo II lo ha superado en términos de viajes misioneros. Como Pedro, Pablo también sufrió el martirio. Fue decapitado y enterrado en el lugar donde ahora se encuentra la Basílica, que lleva su nombre.
Al celebrar la Solemnidad de San Pedro y San Pablo, oramos para que Dios continúe levantando líderes valientes e intrépidos para guiar su Iglesia de generación en generación. A través de la intercesión de San Pedro y San Pablo, que el Señor sostenga a la Iglesia y nos mantenga fieles a sus enseñanzas. Amén.

Corpus Christi. La solemnidad del Cuerpo y la Sangre del Señor

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Por Obispo Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
Profundamente arraigada en nuestra tradición de fe, en la fiesta de la Solemnidad del Cuerpo y la Sangre del Señor, nos reunimos alrededor del Altar del Sacrificio, como lo hicieron Moisés y los israelitas al pie del monte Sinaí, para renovar y celebrar nuestra Alianza, iniciada en el Bautismo, sellada con la sangre de la Cruz y confirmada en la Resurrección.
Los israelitas salieron de la esclavitud de Egipto a un lugar de libertad en el desierto, para reunirse como Pueblo de Dios. Nos estamos reuniendo de nuevo como el Cuerpo de Cristo, en mayor número después de un año de ser esparcidos, no por la opresión de un cruel Faraón, sino por una pandemia castigadora.
Mirando más atrás en nuestra tradición de fe, nos parecemos a Noé y su familia, incluidas todas las criaturas de Dios, que estaban confinadas en su hogar flotante, hasta el día en que pudieran poner un pie en la tierra y ofrecer sacrificios a Dios.
Así también, nosotros ponemos un pie en nuestras iglesias, de toda la diócesis, de una manera más ordinaria para ofrecer sacrificio al Dios y Padre de nuestro Señor Jesucristo.

Obispo Joseph R. Kopacz

En la solemnidad más adecuada, aparte del Domingo de Resurrección, en la Solemnidad del Corpus Christi se levantó la dispensa de la obligación dominical, debidamente establecida durante más de un año, para que nuestros fieles católicos, el Cuerpo de Cristo, pudieran celebrar de nuevo el acto de culto sublime, la Santa Misa.
Me han inspirado, en este año pasado, todos los que se han reunido por hambre de la Palabra de Dios y del sacramento de la Eucaristía y todos los que han tenido un hambre profunda de estar físicamente presentes en la iglesia. Cada vez más, este anhelo se está cumpliendo a medida que la pandemia retrocede. Para aquellos que continúan separados debido a problemas de salud, espero que las circunstancias les permitan regresar a casa, más temprano que tarde.
En encuestas nacionales realizadas durante el año pasado, muchos expresaron que la pandemia, en medio del sufrimiento, la muerte y las privaciones, había fortalecido su fe en Dios y su vida espiritual. Los crisoles suelen hacer esto. Este crecimiento podría indicar una amplia gama de desarrollo personal, pero para nosotros como católicos, las señales externas de que nuestra fe en Jesucristo ha crecido son tangibles. Son el hambre de estar en comunión con él en el sacramento de su Cuerpo y Sangre, el hambre de ser parte viva del Cuerpo de Cristo, la comunidad reunida y el hambre y la sed que tenemos de justicia y reconciliación en nuestras relaciones, comenzando en casa y llegando a todos en nuestras vidas y en nuestro mundo.
El Papa Francisco continuamente aboga por un sentido más profundo de fraternidad en nuestro mundo que complemente la libertad y la igualdad. Su pasión por una mayor unidad y solidaridad entre los pueblos y las naciones surge de la fuente y cumbre de nuestra identidad católica, el santo sacrificio de la Misa.
El precioso cuerpo y la sangre del Señor es nuestro salvavidas en la fe. Cada día la Palabra de Dios resuena de acuerdo en toda la iglesia mundial, una luz en las tinieblas. El crucificado y resucitado es la luz del mundo, el pan de vida, el camino y la verdad. Su vida derramada por nosotros es alimento para el viaje y prenda de la vida eterna.
Qué precioso regalo y misterio celebramos en su amor eterno por nosotros. Cuán bendecidos somos cada vez que nos reunimos para la Eucaristía, profesando nuestra fe en que hacemos esto en memoria de Aquel que está con nosotros siempre hasta el fin de los tiempos y por toda la eternidad.
En el monte Tabor, la montaña de la Transfiguración, Pedro espetó, incrédulo de pura alegría: “Señor, ¡qué bien que estemos aquí!”. (Mateo 17: 4)
Estamos de acuerdo en que es bueno para nosotros estar de regreso en la iglesia, en nuestros lugares sagrados, donde podemos ver y celebrar la gloria de Dios que brilla en el rostro de Jesucristo, en la Solemnidad del Cuerpo y la Sangre del Señor, y durante todo el año. ¡Aleluya!

Corpus Christi The Solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord

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By Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz, D.D.
In a manner deeply rooted in our tradition of faith, on the feast of the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord, we gathered around the Altar of Sacrifice, as did Moses and the Israelites at the base of Mount Sinai, to renew and celebrate our Covenant begun in Baptism, sealed in the blood of the Cross, and confirmed in the Resurrection. The Israelites emerged from slavery in Egypt to a place of freedom in the desert, in order to gather as the People of God.
We are regathering as the Body of Christ in greater numbers after a year of being scattered, not because of the oppression of a cruel Pharoah, but because of a punishing pandemic. Even further back in our tradition of faith we resemble Noah and his family, including all of God’s creatures, who were confined in their floating home, until the day they could set foot on land and offer sacrifice to God. So too, we set foot in our churches throughout the diocese in a more ordinary manner to offer sacrifice to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Bishop Joseph R. Kopacz

On the most fitting solemnity apart from Easter Sunday, the dispensation from the Sunday Obligation was lifted on the Solemnity of Corpus Christi, rightly in place for over a year, in order that our Catholic faithful, the Body of Christ, might celebrate anew our most sublime act of worship, the holy Mass.
I have been inspired by all who have gathered this past year out of hunger for God’s Word and the sacrament of the Eucharist, and by all who have had a deep hunger to be physically present in church. More and more this longing is being fulfilled as the pandemic recedes. For those, who continue to stay apart because of health concerns, may circumstances allow them to come home, sooner rather than later.
In national surveys over the past year, many expressed that the pandemic, in the throes of suffering, death and deprivation, had strengthened their faith in God and their spiritual lives. Crucibles often do this. This growth could indicate a wide range of personal development, but for us as Catholics, outward signs that our faith in Jesus Christ has grown are confirmable. They are the hunger to be in communion with him in the sacrament of his Body and Blood, the hunger to be a living part of the Body of Christ, the gathered community, and the hunger and thirst that we have for righteousness and reconciliation in our relationships, beginning at home, and reaching out to all in our lives and in our world.
Pope Francis continually pleads for a deeper sense of fraternity in our world that compliments liberty and equality. His passion for greater unity and solidarity among peoples and nations arises from the source and summit of our Catholic identity, the holy sacrifice of the Mass.
The precious body and blood of the Lord is our lifeline in faith. Each day the Word of God resounds in accord throughout the world-wide church, a light in the darkness. The crucified and risen One is the light of the world, the bread of life, the way and the truth. His life poured out for us is food for the journey and the pledge of eternal life.
What a precious gift and mystery we celebrate in his undying love for us. How blessed we are each time we gather for the Eucharist, professing our faith that we do this in memory of the One who is with us always until the end of time and for all eternity.
On Mount Tabor, the mountain of the Transfiguration, Peter blurted out, incredulous for pure joy: “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” (Matthew 17:4) We concur that it is good for us to be back in church in our sacred places where we can see and celebrate the glory of God shining on the face of Jesus Christ, on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of the Lord, and throughout the year. Alleluia!

New Orleans Archbishop committed to ending segregation, remembered by Bishop Emeritus

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From the Archives
By Mary Woodward
JACKSON – This week I am highlighting a neighbor to the south of us – Archbishop Joseph F. Rummel, who was Archbishop of New Orleans from 1935 to his death in November 1964. His tenure runs almost parallel to our own Bishop R.O. Gerow (1924-66).

In talking with our Bishop Emeritus, Joseph Latino, who grew up and went to seminary during the Rummel years, Bishop Latino shared some insight into the life of the archbishop saying he was very much committed to ending segregation even in the face of strong push back from Catholic community and business leaders. An interesting timeline develops beginning in 1949.

It seems in 1949, Archbishop Rummel canceled an outdoor liturgy when city officials would not allow African American Catholics to participate. In 1950 he had “White” and “Colored” signs removed from churches. Rummel mandated an end to the practice of making African American Catholics receive Communion last in 1953. These measures met with resistance from laity and clergy.

Pictured is Archbishop Joseph F. Rummel, who served as Archbishop of New Orleans from 1935 until his death in November 1964. Archbishop Rummel met much resistance when he began taking steps to end segregation in his archdiocese in 1949. (Photo courtesy of Bishop Joseph Latino)

To ground his efforts solidly in Catholic theology, Rummel issued a letter to be read in all parishes Feb. 11, 1956. Now Rummel was famous for his long letters to be read to parishioners at Sunday Masses, but this one rocked the entire archdiocese. The letter was laying groundwork to integrate the archdiocesan school system. In the letter Rummel gives three main points quoted below courtesy of the Archdiocese of New Orleans Archives.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful ‘because it is a denial of the unity and solidarity of the human race as conceived by God in the creation of man in Adam and Eve. Male and female He created them and breathed into them the spirit of life and commanded them to increase and multiply and fill the earth. Throughout the pages of the Old Testament and the New there is constant recurrence of this truth, that all mankind has in Adam and Eve one common father and mother and one common destiny, namely, to serve God in this world and find eternal happiness with Him in the world to come.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful because it is a denial of the unity and universality of the Redemption. The Eternal Son of God, Christ Jesus our Lord, came into the world to redeem and save all men, to die for all men on the cross, to make the life of grace available through the Church and the Sacraments for all men, to embrace all men in His Mystical Body on earth and in the life of glory in heaven. Racial segregation would draw the color line across the inspiring plan of the Redemption and thus sin against the divine providence. the love and the mercy that conceived and carried out the wonderful Mystery.

“Racial segregation is morally wrong and sinful because it is basically a violation of the dictates of justice and the mandate of love, which in obedience to God’s will must regulate the relations between all men. To deny to members of a certain race, just because they are members of that race, certain rights and opportunities, civic or economic, educational or religious, recreational or social, imposes upon them definite hardships and humiliations, frustrations and impediments to progress which condemn them to perpetual degradation which is only a step removed from slavery. Such indignities are grievous violations of Christian justice and charity, which cannot be justified in this modem age of enlightenment and loudly proclaimed democracy.”

Rummel concludes the letter aware of opposition by calling for calm and prayer: “May we likewise unite in prayer that the decision, when made, will be accepted in the spirit of Christian charity and justice and in that unity of mind, heart and will, which must always characterize the family of God. This is a problem which should be worked out not in an atmosphere of wrangling or contention or discord or hatred but in a spirit of conciliation and with a desire to achieve peace through justice and charity. Prayer and calmness of spirit are much needed in all our hearts, and for these we plead in the name of the Divine Prince of Peace…”

Despite warnings of possible excommunication, local Catholic political, business and community leaders formed opposition groups to combat Rummel’s move to push for integrated Catholic schools in 1957. They even appealed to the Vatican but were rebuffed by the Holy See. Rummel was even the recipient of a burning cross on the front lawn of the archbishop’s residence.

Ultimately, three leaders were excommunicated, but the opposition continued and delayed the integration plans of Rummel. One reason for delaying was the recognition that white Catholics would leave Catholic schools if integrated and go to the public schools which were not yet integrated. So, archdiocesan leaders advised Rummel to wait to integrate Catholic schools until the public schools integrated in 1960.

In listening to Bishop Latino talk about his memories of all the events, he lamented the fact Archbishop Rummel suffered greatly from the intolerance and disrespect, but admired Rummel’s steadfastness in his mission in the face of that suffering. Latino even remarked that the church missed an opportunity to make a bold statement to the world by bestowing Rummel with the red hat of a Cardinal – honoring a man with principles like rails of steel from which he did not waiver.

In future articles, we will explore the integration of Catholic schools in our diocese which has a similar path though I am not aware of any excommunications. We also will throw in some more insights from our Emeritus.

(Mary Woodward is Chancellor and Archivist for the Diocese of Jackson)

Called by name

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PEARL – St. Jude hosted the diaconate ordination of Andrew Bowden on May 15, 2021. Pictured are all seminarians for the Diocese of Jackson. Pictured left to right: Grayson Foley, Tristan Stovall, Bishop Joseph Kopacz, Carlisle Beggerly, Deacon Andrew Bowden, Ryan Stoer, William Foggo and Father Nick Adam. (Photo by Tereza Ma)

It takes a village to raise a child. It also takes a village to raise priests and religious for our parishes, schools and ministries. I spent some time in Little Rock, Arkansas in early May to discover why the heck they have so many seminarians. They have about 30 seminarians and about 25 of them are from Arkansas. They also have nine men and women who are studying for religious life. This is Little Rock, not New Orleans. This is a diocese that is 5% Catholic and very rural. And they have 30 seminarians and nine men and women studying for religious life! I studied their vocations poster, and it reveals a diverse cast of characters representing many corners of their very large diocese. There are some wonderful missionaries who have come to study for the diocese, but the vast majority come from within.

Father Nick Adam
Father Nick Adam

I left my visit extremely fired up: we can do this! The thing that impressed me most about Little Rock’s program is the culture that has been built over years of collaboration between the Vocation Department, the Bishop’s Office and the Chancery, parish leadership, and the people of God. Everything in that department is geared toward serving the people of God in Arkansas. There is a clear message that God could be calling you to serve, and we are going to support you in that call. It takes a village, and we are that village.

This sort of support is certainly present in communities in our diocese. It took a village for Andrew Bowden to be ordained as Deacon Andrew Bowden on May 15. It took a village for Tristan Stovall to be supported through the RCIA process in Philadelphia and finally to see him off to seminary formation. It took the villages of St. Paul Flowood, St. Richard and St. Joseph Schools and St. Joseph Starkville to inspire Will Foggo to enter the seminary this past year. But we can create a bigger, more cohesive village, and that’s what I learned in Little Rock. This summer I hope our village gets a little bigger as I host our first ever Quo Vadis? Young Men’s Retreat. This fall I hope it gets even bigger with our second annual Homegrown Harvest Seminarian Gala. And I also understand that this village will not be built overnight, and I am not building it alone. If you have ideas or just want to get involved in supporting our seminarians and young men and women who are discerning, please let me know. You can always email me at nick.adam@jacksondiocese.org. There are great things happening in the church, and there are great things happening in our diocese. Please continue to pray for vocations, and live in great hope, because the Lord will respond to these prayers, and we need to support one another as we look to build up our culture of vocations.

Seminarian poster for the Diocese of Little Rock. (Photo by Malea Hargett, editor of Arkansas Catholic)

Pneuma: can you hear me now?

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From the hermitage
By sister alies therese
The ‘season of the Spirit’ is upon us and have we used the many opportunities to explore the ‘beauty?’ As we ‘turn green’ from the glory of Easter/Pentecost’s golds and reds we are called to practically live out what has been given. We discover in the Scriptures and from contemporary writers, the various ways this Pneuma has been heard and experienced. What sort of life might we live having received such ourselves? How do we set ourselves up to receive? How do we respond to the generosity and kindness of God?
Carlo Carretto, (Selected Writings, 1994, Ellsberg, Ed. page 83) … points us to our reality:
“And then, what do rocks matter? What matters is Christ’s promise, what matters is the cement that binds the rocks into one: the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit alone can build the Church with stones as ill-hewn as we.”
To admit I am ill-hewn is always an ‘ouch’ as I’m pretty sure God meant better for us! But the Spirit shows me a different picture and promises to transform. Pope Francis in the Joy of the Gospel (2013) speaks of:
“Spirit-filled evangelizers, fearlessly open to the working of the Holy Spirit … Jesus wants evangelizers who proclaim the good news not only with words but above all a life transfigured by God’s presence…”
And then the Scriptures showed us:
“A strong heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing the rocks before the Lord — but the Lord was not in the wind … and after the fire there was a whispering sound. When he heard this Elijah hid his face in his cloak.” (1Kings 9)
“The tiny whisper is imperceptible and tells of the spirituality of God. It was fitting Elijah, whose mission it was to re-establish the covenant and restore the pure faith, would have returned to Horeb where the covenant was revealed to Moses and through him to Israel’s people.” (NAB, notes, page 336)
Have we heard the driving wind or the small voice? God is generous, clearly a hope in us that we don’t miss our call, indeed, that we get the memo!

Sister alies therese

“From up in the sky there came a noise like a strong, driving wind: the wind and the Holy Spirit are associated in John 3:8: ‘the wind blows where it will. You hear the sound it makes but you do not know where it comes from nor where it goes. So it is with everyone begotten of the Spirit.’” (NAB, notes, page 1172)
I don’t know where I’m going half the time (perhaps not in an ‘ultimate sense’). Is this a blessing of aging? Anyway, this Spirit does not just call on us once … or even twice. Frequently we can hear that whisper, or large boom, when we are at prayer, or trying to pray. Note:
CCC 2623: On the day of Pentecost, the Spirit of the Promise was poured out on the disciples, gathered ‘together in one place. While awaiting the Spirit, ‘all these with one accord devoted themselves to prayer.’ The Spirit who teaches the church and recalls for her everything Jesus said was also to form her in a life of prayer.”
CCC 2655: …Prayer internalizes and assimilates the liturgy during and after celebration. Even when it is lived out ‘in secret’, prayer is always the prayer of the church; it is a communion with the Holy Trinity.’
So, the coming of God’s Spirit is really to form us ill-hewn ones for prayer, for that marvelous encounter with Jesus. If God, as Spirit, has gotten our attention, what next? W. H. Auden in Prayer, the Nature of in a Certain World, 1970, writes:
“To pray is to pay attention to something or someone other than oneself. Whenever one so concentrates attention…that one completely forgets the ego and desires, one is praying.
To forget my ego … ah, that is where I am indeed ill-hewn! You?
In Praying With Icons, Jim Forest, 1997, points out:
“When the Most High came down and confused the tongues, God divided the nations. But when God distributed tongues of fire, God called everyone to unity. Therefore with one accord we glorify the all-Holy Spirit.” — Kontakion for Pentecost
How is this Spirit wending her way through our pandemic ridden world? Are we not, indeed a people in darkness awaiting illumination? Are we not a people called to unity, burned together by this fire? This unity comes in prayer and action, and trust in an unseen God.
Finally, in The Word in the Desert, Douglas Burton-Christie 1993, mentions Abba Cronius, who reminds the brothers/sisters that “vigilance, singlemindedness, and abandonment to God’s will gives birth to the Holy Spirit in one’s soul.” (page 207)
We pray the Spirit will give us just these graces for that birth that we might together glorify God, ill-hewn as we are.
Blessings.

(Sister alies therese is a canonically vowed hermit with days formed around prayer and writing.)