I am not defined by my major, my IQ, the person I’m dating, my GPA, or the number on the scale. I am defined by Jesus Christ in the Eucharist.
“Why do you seek the living one among the dead?
He is not here, but he has been raised.
Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee,
that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners
and be crucified, and rise on the third day.”
Lk. 24: 5c-7
(Source: heartsings77)
THIS.
(Source: olindajuarez)
(Source: joecatholic)
"I am thinking about those red shoes"
This may be the most important thing you read today.
Humility does not mean impoverishing the riches of the Catholic heritage. Humility is personal, beauty is for God.
The article in full:
I am thinking about the infamous red shoes. I am thinking about the non-wearing of the mozzetta. I am thinking about the growing juxtaposition in some conversations of simple liturgy versus lofty liturgy.
Some people are saying, “O how wonderful it is to get rid of all the symbols of office and power and be humble like the poor.”
When I first learned to say the older form of the Mass of the Roman Rite, that is to say, when I first learned how to say Mass, because there has never been a single of day of my priesthood when I couldn’t say it, I admit that I was deeply uncomfortable with some of the gestures prescribed by the rubrics. I even resisted them. For example, the kissing of the objects to be given to the priest, and the priest and the kissing of the priest’s hands… that gave me the willies.
I resisted those solita oscula because I had fallen into the trap of thinking that they mademelook too important.
The fact is that none of those gestures were about me at all. They are about the priest insofar as he isalter Christus, not insofar as he is “John”. For “John” all of that would be ridiculous. For Father,alter Christus, saying Mass, it is barely enough.
When you see the deacon and subdeacon in the older form of Holy Mass holding, for example, the edges of the priest’s cope when they are in procession, or when you see them kissing the priest’s hand, or bowing to him, or waiting on him or deferring to him or – what in non-Catholic eyes appears to be something like adoration or emperor worship – you are actually seeing them preparing the priest for his sacrificial slaughter on the altar of Golgotha.
It is the most natural thing in the human experience to treat with loving reverence the sacrifice to be offered to God. The sacrificial lambs were pampered and given the very best care, right up to the moment when the knife sliced their necks.
The Catholic priest is simultaneously the victim offered on the altar. All the older, traditional ceremonies of the Roman Rite underscore this foundational dimension of the Mass. If we don’t see that relationship of priest, altar, and victim in every Holy Mass, then the way Mass has been celebrated has failed. If we don’t look for that relationship, then we are not really Catholic. Mass is Calvary.
The use of beautiful marble in the church building, precious fabrics and metals for vestments and vessels, music that requires true art and skill to perform, ritual gestures which to worldly eyes seem to be the stuff of bygone eras of royals and the like, all underscore the fact that step by step during Holy Mass the priest is being readied for the sacrifice, which – mysteriously – he himself performs.
Back when I resisted the liturgical kissing of my hand when being handed a chain, spoon or chalice, I had made the mistake of imagining myself to be more humble by that resistance. That was a mistake. Ironically, my resistance to those gestures turned the gestures into being about me. Submission to the gestures, on the other hand, erases the priest’s own person and helps him to be what he needs to be in that moment: priest, victim,alter Christus. The trappings, the rubrics, the gestures erase the priest’s poor person. Resisting these things runs the risk of making them all about the priest again.
In a sense, I had made the objection of Judas about the precious nard which the woman brought to the Lord. Jesus responded that the precious stuff should be kept for His Body, which was to be sacrificed. People who object that we should haveonly poor liturgy are falling into the argument of Judas. We must submit to the precious and sublime in recognition of the truth of what is going on. To pit the sublime and complex and precious and beautiful against the low, simple and humble is schizophrenic and not Catholic.
There is no real conflict of the humble and the sublime in liturgical worship.
“Last night, I had one of the most beautiful worship experiences I have had in a long time. We played at a Catholic youth festival in Louisiana, and afterwards we stayed for “adoration.”
Wasn’t quite sure what that was, but we ended up kneeling in silence in a field for like 20 minutes with thousands of young Catholics, all holding candles. It was amazing. A procession of priests came walking through the candlelit masses holding a big golden cross and then they put this other golden thingy in the altar (forgive me for my ignorance of any of the proper terms, and for my use of the word “thingy”), and we all just sat there and adored Christ together in silent reverence for a long time. Honestly, it made me want to be Catholic again.” (Click title for more….)
Very cool blog entry from a praise and worship leader who recently had the opportunity to attend Eucharistic Adoration.
Crying because Michael Gungor is flawless and he would make a wonderful wonderful Catholic.
I hate dreams.
They shouldn’t have the ability to undo everything I’ve worked so hard to go for.
I haven’t felt heartsick this whole time. I was okay when we last parted ways. Even though I wanted you to try to date me, I knew we weren’t supposed to be together, so I handled it. And then when you started dating her a few days ago, I was angry because you led me on - again - with things you did and said last time we were together. I haven’t talked to you since then, and I was okay with that.
But now I had a dream that was everything that I was thinking. And I hate it. I woke up not knowing where I was, and completely unable to fall back asleep for the longest time. I’m so angry that even though I don’t want to be with you, you still have the ability to make me feel so crushed.
So now I’m all dressed up, hoping to see the guy who I might actually have real feelings for today. Either way, I’m all dressed up to spend some time with the Lord who does have real feelings for me, who won’t lead me on, and won’t forget about me when He finds someone else.
I’m frustrated. But usually days that start bad end up being the best. Here’s to praying.
