And again a little while and you shall see Me

In my previous post I had mentioned how our recent reading of the Book of Leviticus – specifically the final curses – seemed to be quite apposite in our current situation. I ended that post by saying that there was one curse in particular that jumped out at me, especially as it seems to bear upon the present ecclesiastical situation. This curse, however, could be a blessing in disguise. That is the topic of today’s post.


[A]nd I will make your sanctuaries desolate, and will receive no more your sweet odours.

All over the world churches are closed to the lay faithful. The administration of the sacraments has been reduced to a bare minimum in many places, while in others it has ceased altogether.

How did we get here? While I previously stated that part of the problem is that nations have turned away from God, I believe that the greater part of the burden rests upon the shoulders of us Christians. I recall a friend back home making a similar comment after parliament approved the decriminalization of euthanasia. One of his acquaintances said that was impossible as practising Catholics are no longer the majority of the population. Yet while that may be true on a natural, statistical level, on the supernatural numbers have very little to do with it. As a Russian saint is supposed to have once said: acquire the Holy Spirit and thousands around you shall be converted.
Even now in this time of testing, I hear stories of people touting the “my-church-is-better-than-yours” line, trying to show the moral superiority of “their side” on either holding out the longest celebrating Mass publicly or stopping it the earliest as a precaution. As I have said many times previously, for the most part we do not live as a believing people. We do not act as a priestly nation. All to often we publicly deny the Lord (be it in word, deed, or omission). Are we surprised then that He should deny us?

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By this shall all men know that you are my disciples, if you despise one another. Oh wait, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t it at all…

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In media res

We find ourselves midway through Lent already! This Sunday, known as Laetare Sunday, is one of reprieve amidst the somberness of Lent (even if the Great Fast isn’t kept as rigorously as in former times), with the violet vestments giving way to rose, the ancient Roman colour of joy. Many of the texts for the Propers are taken from the Gradual Psalms (or, Songs of Ascent), psalms which are believed to have been sung by Jewish pilgrims as they reached Jerusalem and the Temple during the three great pilgrimage feasts of the Old Testament. While they are psalms of joy, they are intimately bound to Jerusalem; today’s stational church is that of the Holy Cross in Jerusalem, a church built to house a relic of the True Cross and filled with soil brought over from Jerusalem!

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I found the imagery present in the Latin of today’s collect quite beautiful. The English gives us: “Grant, we beseech You, almighty God, that we who justly suffer for our sins may find relief in the help of Your grace”; however, if one were to translate the final part of the oration – tuæ grátiæ consolatióne respirémus – literally, it would be something like “[we] may breathe the consolation of Your grace.” This “breathing grace which consoles” invokes in me images of the Divine Breath, the Holy Spirit, Who is the Paraclete, the Consoler; it is the Paraclete dwelling within us Who vivifies us; just as with Adam, so does God breathe back Life into us as we make our way through this earthly life. This reference to the Holy Spirit seems quite fitting at this particular stational church, as it is through Christ’s Passion and Death upon the Holy and Life Giving Cross that He then Resurrected and Ascended to the Father in order to send us the Consoler. Read more

A third regeneration (I)

This past Sunday, the first Sunday of Lent, saw the baptism of our third child. I find it providential that he should have been baptized at the beginning of this penitential season for two reasons.

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The first reason is that our child’s middle name is Ezequiel, a saint of the Old Covenant during the Babylonian exile who called upon Israel to repent, especially those who were already in exile and were still hard of heart and stiff necked.  In the Book of Ezekiel we are told of how the Lord took the prophet, who was in Babylon, by the hair, to the Temple in Jerusalem. There the Lord showed him how the people of Israel continued to provoke Him – through His priests – by committing adultery with foreign gods: i.e., by offering sacrifices and worship to idols in the Temple alongside the Lord.

And he said to me: Surely thou hast seen, O son of man: is this a light thing to the house of Juda, that they should commit these abominations which they have committed here: because they have filled the land with iniquity, and have turned to provoke me to anger?

The priests then lead the people astray:

Because they have deceived my people, saying: Peace, and there is no peace: and the people built up a wall, and they daubed it with dirt without straw.

I don’t think it is stretching it here to see an application of lex orandi, lex credendi: the priests, no longer worshiping as they should – as the Lord commanded of them – then began to believe and practice abominable things, leading those they were in charge of, those whom they were supposed to lead to God, down a path that pushed the Shekhinah (the Divine Presence) from out of their midst. As a novice oblate belonging to a Benedictine community which has as one of its charisms to pray for priests and to make reparation for them, and looking at the situation of the Church in my home country, this message of Ezekiel resonates deeply with me.

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