This may come off as a rambling, but hey I did warn you in the title!
I know I am a little behind the eight ball here, so to speak, but the Pope is dead. I will start with a few reflections of what had been going on in my life prior to this historic event. Lent was hard this year! I felt oppressed throughout the forty days, but then Holy Week came andmy burdens seemed lightened. I spent Holy Week here in Rome. On the Wednesday of Holy Week I served at the Holy Altar during mass with HE Cardinal Szoka and HE Cardinal Law (both of whom are now in the Conclave). Palm Sunday I went to the Mass in St. Peter's Square, where I recieved one of the Pope's last blessings, and then the Chrism Mass on Thursday Morning (which by the way is a great day to have the Chrism Mass on, and it will be the topic of another blog), the Holy Thursday Mass, the Good Friday Liturgy, and finally the Easter Vigil. On Holy Thursday I walked to the Seven Churches, and in prayer I was in awe of the fact that Jesus makes himself so weak, so frail, and so availible to us. (This is particularly seen in the recent outrages on EBAY) All in all the entire experience was very prayerful and, my brethren here in the house made it, quite joyful. On Easter Sunday, alone and apart from my family for the first Easter in my life, I and five brothers made our way to Ars in France for a retreat. There in the shadow of the Saintly Cure we were schooled in the cross that is the life of a priest. But for all the sufferings that the Saintly Cure endured, I am convinced by his witness that the fruits were sweeter than the difficulties were bitter. (TBCont..)
I know I am a little behind the eight ball here, so to speak, but the Pope is dead. I will start with a few reflections of what had been going on in my life prior to this historic event. Lent was hard this year! I felt oppressed throughout the forty days, but then Holy Week came andmy burdens seemed lightened. I spent Holy Week here in Rome. On the Wednesday of Holy Week I served at the Holy Altar during mass with HE Cardinal Szoka and HE Cardinal Law (both of whom are now in the Conclave). Palm Sunday I went to the Mass in St. Peter's Square, where I recieved one of the Pope's last blessings, and then the Chrism Mass on Thursday Morning (which by the way is a great day to have the Chrism Mass on, and it will be the topic of another blog), the Holy Thursday Mass, the Good Friday Liturgy, and finally the Easter Vigil. On Holy Thursday I walked to the Seven Churches, and in prayer I was in awe of the fact that Jesus makes himself so weak, so frail, and so availible to us. (This is particularly seen in the recent outrages on EBAY) All in all the entire experience was very prayerful and, my brethren here in the house made it, quite joyful. On Easter Sunday, alone and apart from my family for the first Easter in my life, I and five brothers made our way to Ars in France for a retreat. There in the shadow of the Saintly Cure we were schooled in the cross that is the life of a priest. But for all the sufferings that the Saintly Cure endured, I am convinced by his witness that the fruits were sweeter than the difficulties were bitter. (TBCont..)
Continued from before...
Five of us left Rome Easter Morning, after spending the Vigil at St. Peter's. I normally dislike to travel on Sundays, never mind the Sunday of Sundays, but I made an exception for this pilgrimage. Filled with Easter joy my traveling companions and I greatly enjoyed the trip. We traveled to Geneva, Switzerland, the See which St. Francis De Sales was never able to enter publicly because of the Calvinists, and from there we took a train through the Alps into France to the ancient See of Lyon, where the great second century father of the Church, Ireneaus, led His flock.
(nota brevis: I was shocked by the number of Arabs in Lyons and the secularized despairing look of those who were not, truly France is falling away from the faith quickly)
Traveling through the mountains my heart was lifted up by the beauty of God's creation. The peaks rising up more majestic than the greatest towers of man pointing mans mind toward the transcendent power that created them, valleys low and yet teaming with vigorous trees ever green and a plethora of life reminding us of the promise of life offered even to those in the valley of darkness, white water rivers carving their way through solid rock canyons reminding us of the power of water (especially in Baptism); all spoke of the goodness of our risen lord Jesus the Christ. I remember that at the Vigil I was moved to tears at the sound of the alleluia, now traveling through the redeemed world my heart and lips overflowed with this word. As is traditional in Polish families, on Holy Saturday I had eggs, sausage, bread, etc., blessed and this blessed food was what we ate throughout Easter day. Away from my family for the first Easter Sunday ever this fellowship was quite comforting. After another brief train ride and taxi we were in Ars. My week in Ars made a great impact on my spiritual life. The French countryside reminded me of Emmitsburg, Maryland, the spiritual capital of the U.S. (in my humble opinion) and my proximity to Jean Marie Vianney, the patron saint of parish priests (which it is my great desire to be) was inspirational. As a side note: Emmitsburg with its farmland, rolling hills, and minor basilica is almost bizarrely similar to Ars. Throughout the week I was overjoyed by the good things God had done for me—after a long and oppressive lent, and a cold winter, the radiance of Christ Crucified and Risen seemed to radiate in everything. As I mentioned Holy Week in Rome was awesome. Holy Week helped me recall what the spirit of the Liturgy really was; one of the most striking parts of Holy Week was the beauty and symbolism of the liturgies. (I haven't forgotten parts two and three of my promised three part Liturgy blog, although it has been put off for some time.) From the grand procession on Palm Sunday, to the Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday Morning, etc. this Holy Week seemed to fit together better than any other in my life and lift my soul on high.
Anyway, coming off of this spiritual high, and the great joy and spirit in which we traveled to Ars, our arrival in Ars was like gazing across a beautiful landscape and then having the sun set sending a vibrant splash of color, light and darkness, across the serene scene. The retreat in Ars was on the priesthood, about what it meant to be a priest, what it required to be given up and what it required to be taken up, and what place the priesthood had in the history of salvation. All this, of course, was done in the spirit of John Paul the Great's 1986 Holy Thursday letter to priests in which he proposes Vianney as a model of the priesthood. However, despite the fact that St. JM Vianney was the intended focus, as it became clear that the Holy Father was in extremis as we say I couldn't help but see and meditate on the similarity between the simple parish priest, the Holy Cure, and the man who only desired to be a simple parish priest, the Holy Father. We focused in our conferences on being with the people, on preaching and catechesis, on confession, on prayer, on self-sacrifice, etc., and in each of these areas I saw the Holy Father. This is of course not surprising since from early on JPII admired the Holy Cure, and since they both sought sincerely to model their own lives after their mutual master Jesus. Still struck by how good God is to make Himself so available to us through the flesh and blood of Christ in the Sacred Species, the Eucharist, in every tabernacle of the world. I came to realize that both of these great saints John Paul the Great and Jean Marie Vianney were only able to work the miracle they did through utter abandonment to Jesus on the Altar through His great Mother Mary. Taking this example to heart, I found myself desirous, in fact overwhelmed by the need, to prostrate myself before God and cry out De profundis, from the depths of my soul, to God to to help me. To use me like they used the Saints, to help me recognize my lowliness and emptiness at all times, and to fill up my nothingness with His being, with His love, and with His strength.
In Ars I chanted the Liturgy with the Benedictine Sisters, who sang like angels, and spent time before my Lord both in the Most Blessed Sacrament and in His creation. I walked for hours through the pristine farmland surrounding Ars, walking from the Basilica to neighboring twelfth century churches, praying to and praising God. In front of the pulsing heart of Jesus in the monstrance, I gave thanks to God for His goodness to me and offered Him, who gave me his life giving body and blood as food, my body and blood in service to His greater glory, asking him to work in me what I could not do myself. I also enjoyed Ars. There was a spirit in Ars, a spirit of Vianney, which the sisters in particular kept alive. The sisters spent time catechizing all the groups of children that visited, arranging for Holy Mass to be celebrated, or for Adoration, etc. The town people in Ars were very friendly and seemed to have a love for the Holy Cure now dead 150 years. Near the John Paul II seminary there was a farm were each day we watched the wonder of life. Though we had no TV the animals put on a show for us each day that was far superior to any cartoons. We also had the privileged to see a horse born, a reminder of the true pain and suffering in love that mothers undergo to bring life into the world. We also had the privileged to pray next to Vianney's pulpit, catachetical chair, and confessionals and even to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Altar, each day, beneath the body of the Saint using his own chalice. The Holy Mass was celebrated extremely well each day, using both Latin and English, and facing the ad orientum. I found myself caught up in the beauty of the Mass, only slightly distracted by the numerous French who joined us throughout the Mass. One such visitor, a member of the Society of Christ the King (an order which celebrates the indult Mass of 1962) remarked that he was sure that we were religious of some sort and was shocked to hear we were diocesan. I could sing the praises of Ars and of our retreat forever, but in the interest of meager brevity I will conclude.
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