SPIRIT AND TRUTH
By Father Aaron Williams
Of all the liturgies of Holy Week, the Easter Vigil has undergone the most extensive changes over time. It should be noted that the earliest sources we have for this liturgy (c 2nd century) point toward the Mass of Holy Saturday as originally encapsulating all the mysteries of the Triduum, which is one of the reasons historically a Mass was not celebrated on Good Friday. Eventually, however, these mysteries were split into separate celebrations, and the focus of the Vigil Mass took on its own character, especially as the practice became more common to celebrate a separate Mass on the morning of Easter Day as well.

The vigil is intended to commemorate the mystery of our redemption (as considered apart from the celebration of the mystery of the Resurrection proper). All of the readings used are intended to remind us of the reason humanity needed to be redeemed, and how God in His Providence had prepared a way for that redemption since the dawn of time.
The hearing of several readings is essential to the character of the vigil. The pre-1955 form had seven readings total. The reforms of Pius X brought this down to five readings, and then the 1970 reform restored the readings which were lost but gives the option to reduce the number to no lower than five (including the epistle and the Gospel). The tendency should be avoided to reduce the readings simply to make theMass shorter. The vigil, as the most significant Mass of the liturgical year, necessitates that the faithful hear at least a large portion of these readings.
In all forms of the Vigil liturgy, the Mass begins with the preparation of the Paschal Candle. However, this rite underwent extensive changes in 1955. In its original form, the priest (dressed in a violet cope) blessed a small fire outside of the church which is used to light a small taper and carried inside. Once inside, the deacon brings forth a candle that is split into three ends in a sort of forked shape. The first end is lit and the deacon chants “The Light of Christ.” A little further into the church this is done again, and then again at the foot of the altar. When this is completed, the deacon chants a much longer form of the Exultet. This chanting of the Exultet consisted the actual blessing of the paschal candle, making this the only time prior to 1955 that a Deacon performed a blessing instead of the priest. In fact, if no deacon was available, the priest would change into a deacon’s dalmatic before performing this blessing.
During the Exultet, the deacon would stop at certain moments and work with the candle — inserting the incense grains, carving the date, and lighting it. When this is complete, the deacon would change into violet vestments and the vigil of readings began. The 1955 reform eliminated the three-ended candle and has the priest bless the paschal candle itself outside of the church, which is carried in by the deacon. The blessing of the candle during the Exultet was eliminated. This form is maintained in the modern rite as well, except white vestments are worn.
In the older form of the Easter Vigil, the litany of the saints is chanted following the last of the Old Testament readings. As at ordinations, the priest and deacon would prostrate themselves before the altar during this litany. Afterwards, the baptismal water is blessed. The litany constituted the Kyrie of the Mass, so after it is sung, the priest changes into white vestments and intones the Gloria. In the modern form, the Litany is saved until after the first half of the vigil is complete, and the Gloria is intoned after the last of the Old Testament readings. The priest never changes his vestment color, and the prostration is eliminated.
One significant point that priests and sacristans of which should be aware is the typographical error in the USA lectionary for the Easter Vigil. In the typical edition of the lectionary, as well as in the English editions of other countries, the Exodus reading is not followed by the standard “The Word of the Lord” conclusion. Rather, the reading ends with the phrase “…the Israelites sang this song to the Lord:” – with everything else following being omitted, and immediately the Canticle which follows is sung by the choir. This is a very ancient practice which is retained in the modern form of the rite and adds a small element of drama to the Exodus reading by allowing the choir to ‘finish’ the reading off with the following canticle. The form of the reading which is given in the USA edition is only used if the following Canticle is omitted and a period of silence is given instead.

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

Guest column
By Sister Constance Veit, LSP
One of my favorite expressions has taken on new meaning during the COVID pandemic: “There’s a silver lining to every cloud that sails about the heavens if only we could see it.”

Without forgetting the terrible suffering of so many people, I’ve been amazed by those who have found a silver lining in these dark times by using their social isolation to learn a new skill, delve into a long-held interest, produce new works of literature, music and art or create meaningful connections with others.
Pope Francis is one of these inspiring people. Despite his advanced age, he has penned both an encyclical and a book before the close of 2020. Both works, Fratelli Tutti and Let Us Dream, focus on combatting the throw-away culture with a culture of encounter, tenderness and care for those on the peripheries.

“What is tenderness?” the pope asks. “It is love that draws near and becomes real. A movement that starts from our heart and reaches the eyes, the ears and the hands … The smallest, the weakest, the poorest should touch our hearts: indeed, they have a ‘right’ to appeal to our heart and soul. They are our brothers and sisters, and as such we must love and care for them” (Fratelli Tutti, n. 194).

Francis’ convictions are rooted in Catholic social teaching – human dignity, solidarity and subsidiarity. “Every human being has the right to live with dignity … Unless this basic principle is upheld, there will be no future either for fraternity or for the survival of humanity” (Fratelli Tutti, n. 107).

In Let Us Dream, he writes, “Solidarity acknowledges our interconnectedness; we are creatures in relationship, with duties toward each other, and all are called to participate in society. That means welcoming the stranger, forgiving debts, giving a home to the disabled and allowing other people’s dreams and hopes for a better life to become our own.”

On the other hand, subsidiarity, he writes, “involves recognizing and respecting the autonomy of others as subjects of their own destiny. The poor are not the objects of our good intentions but the subjects of change. We do not just act for the poor but with them …”

The World Day of the Sick on Feb. 11 gives us a perfect opportunity to practice these values.
In his message for this year’s celebration, the Holy Father reflects on the healing power of relationships. We must strive to create “a covenant between those in need of care and those who provide that care,” he writes, “a covenant based on mutual trust and respect, openness and availability.”

Pope Francis reminds us that it is Jesus himself who asks us to stop and listen to those who are sick or disabled. He asks us to establish personal relationships with them, “to feel empathy and compassion, and to let their suffering become our own as we seek to serve them.”

The pandemic has made us more aware of those who have chosen to share in the suffering of the sick, seeing them as neighbors and members of our one human family.

The pope lauds “healthcare personnel, volunteers, support staff, priests, men and women religious, all of whom have helped, treated, comforted and served so many of the sick and their families with professionalism, self-giving, responsibility and love of neighbor.”

The pope describes this closeness to suffering as a precious balm of consolation. I think of it as a silver lining in the dark clouds that still hover over us nearly a year after the onset of the pandemic.

To honor the World Day of the Sick, this year let’s ask ourselves how we can become a silver lining to someone passing through this COVID storm. We might take the time to express our appreciation to healthcare workers, or to reach out to a sick relative or neighbor, offering whatever assistance they may need.

Through our compassion, may the sick who are passing through darkness find a silver lining by realizing how much they are loved and cherished by others.

(Sister Constance Veit is director of communications for the Little Sisters of the Poor.)

IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
“You can safely assume you’ve created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do.” – Anne Lamott

Those are words worth contemplating, on all sides of the political and religious divide today. We live in a time of bitter division. From our government offices down to our kitchen tables there are tensions and divisions about politics, religion, and versions of truth that seem irreparable. Sadly, these divisions have brought out the worst in us, in all of us. Common civility has broken down and brought with it something that effectively illustrates the biblical definition of the “diabolic” – widespread lack of common courtesy, disrespect, demonization and hatred of each other. All of us now smugly assume that God hates all the same people we do. The polarization around the recent U.S. elections, the storming of the U.S. Capitol buildings by a riotous mob, the bitter ethical and religious debates about abortion, and the loss of a common notion of truth have made clear that incivility, hatred, disrespect and different notions of truth rule the day.

Where do we go with that? I am a theologian and not a politician or social analyst so what I say here has more to do with living out Christian discipleship and basic human maturity than with any political response. Where do we go religiously with this?

Perhaps a helpful way to probe for a Christian response is to pose the question this way: what does it mean to love in a time like this? What does it mean to love in a time when people can no longer agree on what is true? How do we remain civil and respectful when it feels impossible to respect those who disagree with us?
In struggling for clarity with an issue so complex, sometimes it can be good to proceed via the Via Negativa, that is, by first asking what should we avoid doing. What should we not do today?

First, we should not bracket civility and legitimize disrespect and demonization; but we should also not be unhealthily passive, fearful that speaking our truth will upset others. We may not disregard truth and let lies and injustices lie comfortable and unexposed. It is too simple to say that there are good people on both sides in order to avoid having to make real adjudications vis-à-vis the truth. There are sincere people on both sides, but sincerity can also be very misguided. Lies and injustice need to be named. Finally, we must resist the subtle (almost impossible to resist) temptation to allow our righteousness morph into self-righteousness, one of pride’s most divisive modalities.

What do we need to do in the name of love? Fyodor Dostoevsky famously wrote that love is a harsh and fearful thing, and our first response should be to accept that. Love is a harsh thing and that harshness is not just the discomfort we feel when we confront others or find ourselves confronted by them. Love’s harshness is felt most acutely in the (almost indigestible) self-righteousness we have to swallow in order to rise to a higher level of maturity where we can accept that God loves those we hate just as much as God loves us – and those we hate are just as precious and important in God’s eyes as we are.

Once we accept this, then we can speak for truth and justice. Then truth can speak to power, to “alternative truth,” and to the denial of truth. That is the task. Lies must be exposed, and this needs to occur inside our political debates, inside our churches, and at our dinner tables. That struggle will sometimes call us beyond niceness (which can be its own mammoth struggle for sensitive persons). However, while we cannot always be nice, we can always be civil and respectful.

One of our contemporary prophetic figures, Daniel Berrigan, despite numerous arrests for civil disobedience, steadfastly affirmed that a prophet makes a vow of love, not of alienation. Hence, in our every attempt to defend truth, to speak for justice, and to speak truth to power, our dominant tone must be one of love, not anger or hatred. Moreover, whether we are acting in love or alienation will always be manifest – in our civility or lack of it. No matter our anger, love still has some non-negotiables, civility and respect. Whenever we find ourselves descending to adolescent name-calling, we can be sure we have fallen out of discipleship, out of prophecy, and out of what is best inside us.

Finally, how we will respond to the times remains a deeply personal thing. Not all of us are called to do the same thing. God has given each of us unique gifts and a unique calling; some are called to loud protest, others to quiet prophecy. However, we are all called to ask ourselves the same question: given what is happening, what is love asking of me now?

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

From the hermitage
By sister alies therese
The battle is on. Swords are drawn. All seems so violent and harsh. Yet we are told prayer is a battle. We might even have a “war room” in our home. Life is not easy. We just must get on with it! Really?
“Consider how Jesus Christ teaches us to be humble, by making us see that our virtue does not depend on our work alone but from grace on high. Jesus commands each of the faithful who prays to do so universally, for the whole world. He did not say, ‘thy will be done in me or in us,’ but ‘on earth,’ the whole earth, so that error might be banished from it, truth take root in it, all vice be destroyed on it, virtue flourish on it, and earth no longer different from heaven.” St. John Chrysostom
“We have not been commanded to work, to keep watch and to fast constantly, but it has been laid down that we are to pray without ceasing.” (Desert Fathers)
Father Donal Dorr, an Irish missionary priest wrote many books and in his Spirituality and Justice, 1984, he wrote this:
“People who do not have a simple and spontaneous trust in God are likely to take themselves and their own efforts too seriously. Their dedication to human liberation is liable to be too earnest, too blinkered, perhaps too self-righteous. Hence the importance of childlike prayer. On the other hand, like many others who believe that God has called us to work for justice and human liberation, I am constantly dismayed that so many Christians use prayer as a substitute for action … prayer and action are not alternatives, rather they complement each other. It is very hard to find anybody who has a passionate commitment to both.”

We recently celebrated MLK Day, perhaps not in person as we would have liked, but at least in prayer. I think he might have been a person of this passion, praying and working for justice. He would have wept over the attempt to take over the Capitol and government and to hurt, if not kill, leaders. One wonders. A new President on Jan. 20 was like a bit of fresh air but we are certainly not done! The passionate call to justice requires unceasing prayer. Non-violence is difficult.
“Those who ‘pray without ceasing’ unite prayer to works and good works to prayer. Only in this way can we consider as realizable the principle of praying without ceasing.” Origen
In the CCC 1896 we find: “Where sin has perverted the social climate, it is necessary to call for conversion of hearts and appeal to the grace of God. Charity urges just reforms. There is no solution to the social question apart from the Gospel.” Further in 1889: “Without the help of grace, [wo]men would not know how to ‘discern the often narrow path between the cowardice which gives into evil, and the violence which under the illusion of fighting evil only makes things worse.’ Charity is the greatest social commandment. It respects others and their rights. It requires the practice of justice, and it alone makes us capable of it.”
Sin on many levels has perverted our social climate and we look to those who do justice to guide us. Just look around. How do we find the illusions? How do we detect our own complicity? How do we discover those things in our governments (meant to be of service for the people) that oppress or repress? One way we already considered, unceasing prayer. A second way is to consider at least the three main requirements of the ‘common good:’ 1) respect for the person, 2) social well-being and development of culture, 3) peace, stability and security of a just order.” (CCC 1907)
Finally, we listen to Pope St. John XXIII where he reminds us: “Human society can be neither well-ordered nor prosperous unless it has some people invested with legitimate authority to preserve its institutions and to devote themselves as far as is necessary to work and care for the good of all.” (CCC 1897)
There is a lot of fear around. Many fear government take-overs, the pandemic, being alone, or even one’s own health – mental and physical. I can’t say that just saying, ‘go away fear,’ will do it, but I can suggest paying attention to your relationship with Jesus in prayer and the works for common good/justice will put us back on track. This is no hoax. This is no joke. This is the real deal. The call to holiness requires everything.
BLESSINGS.

(Sister alies therese is a vowed Catholic solitary who lives an eremitical life. Her days are formed around prayer, art and writing. She is author of six books of spiritual fiction and is a weekly columnist. She lives and writes in Mississippi.)

Guest column
By James Tomek, Ph.D.
In honor of our national memorial of Martin Luther King, Bishop Joseph Kopacz had our diocese sponsor a workshop “The Fight Against Racism: the Past, Present, and Future Hope of the Church,” led by Bishop Shelton Fabre, an expert on cultural diversity and Catholic African American Relations. He approached our confrontation against the sin of racism with less emphasis on civil rights legislation, focusing more on converting our hearts to do the right thing.

He started with a review of three earlier Pastoral Letters by the Bishops Council (USCCB) that condemned racism but noting that they had little effect in inspiring homilies about racial inequality and human dignity. Catholics should be responding equally to the sins of racism as they do against abortion.
Bishop Fabre outlined a more recent document, “Open Wide Your Hearts: The Enduring Call to Love” (2018), of which he is a major author. Bishop Shelton then encouraged us to follow the prophet Micah’s procedure.
First, one does justice. Since we are all created in the image and likeness of God, we must root out the sin of racism that destroys human dignity, with hatred killing possibilities of communion. Laws are a start, but real conversion comes when our hearts tell us to do the right thing.
This concept clarifies for me the paradox of Immanuel Levinas’ study of the Talmud, where Jews do the law before they know it. I also understand better Paul’s meaning of putting Faith above the Law. Faith is our attitude to do justice. Micah’s next step is to love goodness – practiced by developing homilies and welcoming minorities in our communities. “Walking humbly” is the last step in Micah’s process where we try to set a good example by confronting our own racism.
Before providing resources, Bishop Fabre sets the tone by changing slightly the parable of the workers in the vineyard (Matthew 20:1-16). The workers, who had worked all day, resented the late arrivers being paid the same. The Bishop edits the complaint from “you have paid them equal to us” to “you have made them equal to us.”
Deep down, we humans like to feel superior to some groups of people (the glamor of sin that we reject in our baptismal vows) – a sin against human dignity. Again, we legislate civil rights, without converting our hearts. The session concludes with lists of resources, reminding us of other objects of racism with Asians and Latinos, along with specific subject areas, like housing, jobs, prison and the death penalty.
Finally, Bishop Fabre encourages preaching the evils of racism. We are confused like the disciples at Emmaus. We all need to hear Jesus’s Word and be properly catechized – meaning that we need to study! Racism ends in hatred, undercutting any possibility of unity. Some people react negatively against “Black Lives Matter” thinking that “All Lives Matter.” The Bishop corrects this attitude with an example. All houses matter, but the one on fire matters most. As a former lifeguard, I will add that a struggling, drowning swimmer matters first.
How can I speak against racism to my colleagues in Rosedale? If I think that I am not a racist, I am one. The way out is to confront my racism – which brings me to Palisades Amusement Park at age 14 where I worked at a food stand. The park was near the George Washington Bridge – and thus New York City. Every Sunday would bring huge crowds. Puerto Ricans would line up 10 deep, ordering hotdogs and lemonades, in a language that was foreign to me – and irritating. My colleagues and I, while not ridiculing people openly, would make fun. Bishop Fabre would say that we were affirming our superiority over these people. I am not proud of my attitude then and hope for Purgatory.
One purge came later at a conference where a Mexican colleague and I were discussing Voltaire. I told him that I thought his degree was in Spanish because he was from Cancun and then confessed that if I, an English speaker, can study French, why not he, a Spanish speaker, also switch cultures. We finished in academic unity.
PS. I am a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and a former French and English teacher at Delta State University. I attended the workshop via Zoom. I want to add that I have heard my Sacramental Ministers and Mentors (Fathers Kent Bowlds, Thomas Mullally and Sebastian Myladiyil) speak about and act against racism and have read pertinent articles in our diocesan paper. The tense frightening times though suggest that we take a bigger stand.

(James Tomek is a retired language and literature professor at Delta State University who is currently a Lay Ecclesial Minister at Sacred Heart in Rosedale and also active in RCIA at Our Lady of Victories in Cleveland.)