Holy Thursday

"The holiest of nights" - this is one phrase which describes Holy Thursday.  As we gather for the Mass of the Lord's Supper, follow the procession to the Altar of Repose, and spend the rest of the evening in vigil and adoration, the events which we commemorate are truly present: we are indeed with the Lord on this night.  I can almost imagine a child asking the ritual question: "Why is this night different?" It is indeed the Passover, the new Passover.

In the diocese of Meath we celebrated the Chrism Mass on Wednesday evening.  This year we had a large number of priests renewing their commitment to their ministry.  In this time of renewal we need to look to a renewal of the priesthood as well as that of the Church in Ireland.  Our priests need to rediscover who they are.  Priesthood is not a job, a priest is not a mere pastoral assistant or a facilitator or management.  It is a calling bound up in the mystery of Christ himself and in the Fatherhood of God. 

The Holy Father's Chrism Mass grabbed the headlines around the world - RTE here were quick to report his remarks on women priests and dissent - I'm sure they were not happen - the language they used was quite negative.  They said the Pope was reiterating the "ban" on women priests: they fail to understand that there is no "ban" on women priests in the Catholic Church - rather, as Blessed John Paul II reminded us, the Church has no authority to ordain women - after careful enquiry the Church believes that it is not the will of God. 

The world operates under the erroneous belief that if we can do something, then we should.  We can create human beings through artificial scientific processes, so if we can do it, we do it - morality does not enter into it.  So with the ordination of women - if it is conceivable, then we do it - we do not need to ask God whether he wants it: he too, it seems, is bound by secular equality laws.  However in this case if God does not want it it does not happen.  As one of my students said to me a few years ago when I was teaching: "If God doesn't want women priests, it doesn't matter if you go through an "ordination" for them, they're still not priests" - the student was a girl and it made perfect sense to her.  After all, priesthood was not a human invention, nor governed by equality laws, it is a gift from God to be governed by his will.

The Catholic priesthood, among other things, is a manifestation of fatherhood: every man is called to be a father - how he exercises that fatherhood will depend on his individual vocation.  It is easy to see this fatherhood in the men who marry and have children.  But those who do not marry nor have children, their fatherhood is expressed in different ways.  A priest is a father to those in his care: priesthood and fatherhood are inextricably linked.  Today, on Holy Thursday, priests are reminded that they are called to be fathers, to make the sacrifice that fathers must make for their children, to govern the household of God as fathers do.

This year many people will be remembering those who died in the Titanic disaster.  We all know the stories of some of the passengers - the "unsinkable" Molly Brown who was heroic in her efforts to save people - she was a Catholic, by the way, and after the disaster went on to do a lot of good work for the Church and society.  But among the silent heroes are a number of priests who refused offers of seats on the lifeboats to stay and minister to the people who were going to die.  The one scene that struck me from the movie Titanic (which I hated by the way, A Night To Remember is much better), was that of the priest absolving sins as the ship was going down.  It really happened.

We know of three priests who ministered heroically in preparing passengers for their deaths: Fr Joseph Benedikt Peruschitz, a German Benedictine.  He was on his way to take up a teaching position in Collegeville.  He was a second class passenger, who was offered a place in the lifeboats - he refused.  He went about the sinking ship giving absolution, consoling the passengers and leading them in prayer.  He was mocked by some passengers as he was going about his work preparing people to meet their God.  He went down in the midst of the faithful praying the rosary: he was 41 years old.

Fr Juozas Montvila was only 27, a Lithuanian. He had endured much persecution from the Russians in his native Lithuania.  He had been ministering to Ukrainian Catholics against the wishes of the Tsar.  Fr Juozas was prohibited from exercising his priestly ministry and eventually driven out of Lithuania.  He was on his way to the US to take up a position ministering to Lithuanian Catholics.  He too refused a place in the lifeboats and exercised his priestly fatherhood in consoling those about to die.

Fr Thomas Byles, 42, was an English priest, a convert from Anglicanism - his story is very like Blessed John Henry Newman's.  He had been a Congregationalist, but at Oxford converted to the Church of England and began preparing to enter the Anglican ministry.  However his studies led him to Catholicism, and he was ordained a priest in 1902.  He was on his way to a family wedding in Brooklyn.  He was ministering to the Catholics on the voyage, most of whom were third class, so he knew his way around the lower decks.  When the iceberg hit he refused a seat in the lifeboats and made his way down to third class, which was quickly sealed up to prevent the immigrants making for the lifeboats - the upper classes, it seems, had the right to the few lifeboats, the poor could go down with the ship.  He spent his last hours hearing confessions and praying with the passengers trapped in the ship. 

Frs Joseph Benedikt Peruschitz, Juozas Montvila and Thomas Byles

None of these priests were ever found, like hundreds of others, their bodies perished in the waters.  In these three men we see the fatherhood of the priesthood at work - a father does not abandon his children - these priests knew where they had to be as the ship went down.

What is interesting is that these three men seemed almost prepared for this final sacrifice. Each of them had been formed in heroism in their lives so when it came to the disaster, they were ready to respond as Christ would respond.  This reminds us that a priest is a man chosen even before was born, consecrated in the womb, as the prophet says.  That is consoling for us priests -God has chosen us and he will help us carry out the mission he has entrusted to us.

I'm not sure if the possibility of beatification has been mooted for these three priests, but it may be worth considering.  What wonderful examples for us priests - these men who laid down their lives for their flock, literally.

This Holy Night

The Venerable Pope John Paul II in the Upper Room of the Last Supper in Jerusalem

As we begin the Sacred Triduum, this evening reflecting on the Holy Eucharist, the priesthood and the Lord's agony in the garden of Gethesemane, my thoughts turn to Pope John Paul's reflections in his encyclical on the Eucharist. To aid our meditation this evening an appropriate extract:

During the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000 I had an opportunity to celebrate the Eucharist in the Cenacle of Jerusalem where, according to tradition, it was first celebrated by Jesus himself. The Upper Room was where this most holy Sacrament was instituted. It is there that Christ took bread, broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying: “Take this, all of you, and eat it: this is my body which will be given up for you” (cf. Mk 26:26; Lk 22:19; 1 Cor 11:24). Then he took the cup of wine and said to them: “Take this, all of you and drink from it: this is the cup of my blood, the blood of the new and everlasting covenant. It will be shed for you and for all, so that sins may be forgiven” (cf. Mt 14:24; Lk 22:20; 1 Cor 11:25). I am grateful to the Lord Jesus for allowing me to repeat in that same place, in obedience to his command: “Do this in memory of me” (Lk 22:19), the words which he spoke two thousand years ago. 

Did the Apostles who took part in the Last Supper understand the meaning of the words spoken by Christ? Perhaps not. Those words would only be fully clear at the end of the Triduum sacrum, the time from Thursday evening to Sunday morning. Those days embrace the myste- rium paschale; they also embrace the mysterium eucharisticum. 

The Church was born of the paschal mystery. For this very reason the Eucharist, which is in an outstanding way the sacrament of the paschal mystery, stands at the centre of the Church's life. This is already clear from the earliest images of the Church found in the Acts of the Apostles: “They devoted themselves to the Apostles' teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (2:42). The “breaking of the bread” refers to the Eucharist. Two thousand years later, we continue to relive that primordial image of the Church. At every celebration of the Eucharist, we are spiritually brought back to the paschal Triduum: to the events of the evening of Holy Thursday, to the Last Supper and to what followed it. The institution of the Eucharist sacramentally anticipated the events which were about to take place, beginning with the agony in Gethsemane. Once again we see Jesus as he leaves the Upper Room, descends with his disciples to the Kidron valley and goes to the Garden of Olives. Even today that Garden shelters some very ancient olive trees. Perhaps they witnessed what happened beneath their shade that evening, when Christ in prayer was filled with anguish “and his sweat became like drops of blood falling down upon the ground” (cf. Lk 22:44). The blood which shortly before he had given to the Church as the drink of salvation in the sacrament of the Eucharist, began to be shed; its outpouring would then be completed on Golgotha to become the means of our redemption: “Christ... as high priest of the good things to come..., entered once for all into the Holy Place, taking not the blood of goats and calves but his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption” (Heb 9:11- 12).

The hour of our redemption. Although deeply troubled, Jesus does not flee before his “hour”. “And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour?' No, for this purpose I have come to this hour” (Jn 12:27). He wanted his disciples to keep him company, yet he had to experience loneliness and abandonment: “So, could you not watch with me one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation” (Mt 26:40- 41). Only John would remain at the foot of the Cross, at the side of Mary and the faithful women. The agony in Gethsemane was the introduction to the agony of the Cross on Good Friday. The holy hour, the hour of the redemption of the world. Whenever the Eucharist is celebrated at the tomb of Jesus in Jerusalem, there is an almost tangible return to his “hour”, the hour of his Cross and glorification. Every priest who celebrates Holy Mass, together with the Christian community which takes part in it, is led back in spirit to that place and that hour.

This is a beautiful night, a holy night, a night of grace, may it be full of blessings and graces for all of you.  I will be remembering all the members of the Fraternity, and all readers of my blog, in my Mass this evening and during the Holy Vigil.  Can I ask you all to pray for me also and for all my brother priests?