Showing posts with label Holy Saturday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holy Saturday. Show all posts

31 Mar 2018

Easter Vigil Homily of Pope Francis in St. Peter's Basilica


Following is the text of the Holy Father’s homily during the Easter Vigil, March 31, 2018, in St. Peter’s Basilica. The Pope also administered the sacraments of Christian initiation to eight new members of the Church from Albania, Italy, Nigeria, Peru, and United States.

*********************

We began this celebration outside, plunged in the darkness of the night and the cold. We felt an oppressive silence at the death of the Lord, a silence with which each of us can identify, a silence that penetrates to the depths of the heart of every disciple, who stands wordless before the cross.
These are the hours when the disciple stands speechless in pain at the death of Jesus. What words can be spoken at such a moment? The disciple keeps silent in the awareness of his or her own reactions during those crucial hours in the Lord’s life. Before the injustice that condemned the Master, his disciples were silent. Before the calumnies and the false testimony that the Master endured, his disciples said nothing. During the trying, painful hours of the Passion, his disciples dramatically experienced their inability to put their lives on the line to speak out on behalf of the Master. What is more, not only did they not acknowledge him: they hid, they escaped, they kept silent (cf. Jn 18:25-27).

It is the silent night of the disciples who remained numb, paralyzed and uncertain of what to do amid so many painful and disheartening situations. It is also that of today’s disciples, speechless in the face of situations we cannot control, that make us feel and, even worse, believe that nothing can be done to reverse all the injustices that our brothers and sisters are experiencing in their flesh.

It is the silent night of those disciples who are disoriented because they are plunged in a crushing routine that robs memory, silences hope and leads to thinking that “this is the way things have always been done”. Those disciples who, overwhelmed, have nothing to say and end up considering “normal” and unexceptional the words of Caiaphas: “Can you not see that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed?” (Jn 11:50).

Amid our silence, our overpowering silence, the stones begin to cry out (cf. Lk 19:40)1 and to clear the way for the greatest message that history has ever heard: “He is not here, for he has been raised” (Mt 28:6). The stone before the tomb cried out and proclaimed the opening of a new way for all. Creation itself was the first to echo the triumph of life over all that had attempted to silence and stifle the joy of the Gospel. The stone before the tomb was the first to leap up and in its own way intone a song of praise and wonder, of joy and hope, in which all of us are invited to join.

Yesterday, we joined the women in contemplating “the one who was pierced” (cf. Jn 19:36; cf. Zech 12:10). Today, with them, we are invited to contemplate the empty tomb and to hear the words of the angel: “Do not be afraid... for he has been raised” (Mt 28:5-6). Those words should affect our deepest convictions and certainties, the ways we judge and deal with the events of our daily lives, especially the ways we relate to others. The empty tomb should challenge us and rally our spirits. It should make us think, but above all it should encourage us to trust and believe that God “happens” in every situation and every person, and that his light can shine in the least expected and most hidden corners of our lives. He rose from the dead, from that place where nobody waits for anything, and now he waits for us – as he did the women – to enable us to share in his saving work. On this basis and with this strength, we Christians place our lives and our energy, our intelligence, our affections and our will, at the service of discovering, and above all creating, paths of dignity.

He is not here... he is risen! This is the message that sustains our hope and turns it into concrete gestures of charity. How greatly we need to let our frailty be anointed by this experience! How greatly we need to let our faith be revived! How greatly we need our myopic horizons to be challenged and renewed by this message! Christ is risen, and with him he makes our hope and creativity rise, so that we can face our present problems in the knowledge that we are not alone.
To celebrate Easter is to believe once more that God constantly breaks into our personal histories, challenging our “conventions”, those fixed ways of thinking and acting that end up paralyzing us. To celebrate Easter is to allow Jesus to triumph over the craven fear that so often assails us and tries to bury every kind of hope.

The stone before the tomb shared in this, the women of the Gospel shared in this, and now the invitation is addressed once more to you and to me. An invitation to break out of our routines and to renew our lives, our decisions and our existence. An invitation that must be directed to where we stand, what we are doing and what we are, with the “power ratio” that is ours. Do we want to share in this message of life or do we prefer simply to continue standing speechless before events as they happen?

He is not here... he is raised! And he awaits you in Gaiilee. He invites you to go back to the time and place of your first love and he says to you: Do not be afraid, follow me.

“I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out”.

Waiting...............

Cross post from Pilgrim Progress - Sr Louise O'Rourke:

There is absolutely nothing we can do on Holy Saturday, and that is the point. It is a day of desolation and nothingness, a day of darkness and utter emptiness. The day is and should be the most calm and quiet day of the entire Church year, a day broken by no liturgical function. Christ lies in the grave, the Church sits near and mourns. After the great battle He is resting in peace, but upon Him we see the scars of intense suffering...The mortal wounds on His Body remain visible.  There is nothing to do now except wait… and waiting is the hardest part in this digital and instant age. Holy Saturday is the silent pause between what we have done and what God will do – what only God can do.

On this day God is silent, yet God is still at work. Scripture tells us Holy Saturday is the day Christ descended and ministered to those in Hades, or the place of the dead. This is not a trivial or side matter, which is why “He descended to the dead” finds mention in the Apostles’ Creed. Christ goes to Hades not as a victim, but as a victor.  God’s great reversal begins here. Christ is crucified, and Satan and the forces of evil think they have won the day. Yet the Crucified one storms the place to free those held captive. Tradition affirms that Christ led Adam and Eve out by hand. This is significant too, for we are the spiritual children of Adam and Eve and the Fall.

Today we reflect on that period of confusion and silence, between the sadness of the cross and the joy of Easter. From the bewilderment of Jesus’ disciples to the great faith of Mary, we examine our own lives in light of the great “Sabbath of Time” and draw courage from Mary’s example to face the future with deep hope, patience, love and interior peace. As she waited in faith for the victorious triumph of Her Son over death on the first Holy Saturday, so we too wait with Mary on the present Holy Saturday.

As we behold the body of Jesus in the tomb today, and as we contemplate the mystery of our death, we prepare our hearts to receive the Good News of life.  We know that tomb will be empty and remain empty forever as a sign that our lives will not really end, but only be transformed.  One day, we will all rest in the embrace of Jesus, who knows our death, and who prepares a place for us in everlasting life. But for now, we wait...!

Reflections for Holy Saturday - Waiting by the tomb


"He was crucified, died and was buried.
He descended to the dead.............."

Holy Saturday, Sabbatum Sanctum in Latin, is the last day of Holy Week, and the 40th day of the traditional Lenten fast, although Lent ends liturgically on the evening of Holy Thursday. The evening of Holy Saturday begins the third and final day of the Paschal Triduum. In the Latin Church, no Masses are celebrated on Holy Saturday, and the day is essentially a sparse time of reflection upon Christ's death and burial in anticipation of the Great Vigil of Easter (Paschal Vigil). The vigil usually begins the night of Holy Saturday, lasting until Easter morning. Very little happens on Holy Saturday, that is until the beginning of the Great Paschal Vigil.


The Harrowing of Hell
Creighton University Daily Reflection - Holy Saturday 2018:
On Holy Saturday we enter into the mystery.  Today we contemplate Jesus, there in the tomb, dead.  In that tomb, he is dead, exactly the way each of us will be dead.  We don't easily contemplate dying, but we rarely contemplate being dead.  I have had the blessed experience of being with a number of people who have died, of arriving at a hospital shortly after someone has died, of attending an autopsy, and of praying with health sciences students over donated bodies in gross anatomy class.  These were powerful experiences because they all brought me face-to-face with the mystery of death itself.  With death, life ends.  Breathing stops, and in an instant, the life of this person has ended.  And, in a matter of hours, the body becomes quite cold and life-less -- dramatic evidence, to our senses, that this person no longer exists.  All that is left is this decaying shell that once held his or her life. 
Death is our ultimate fear.  Everything else we fear, every struggle we have, is some taste of, some chilling approach to, the experience of losing our life.  This fear is responsible for so much of our lust and greed, so much of our denial and arrogance, so much of our silly clinging to power, so much of our hectic and anxiety-driven activity.  It is the one, inevitable reality we all will face.  There is not enough time, money, joy, fulfillment, success.  Our physical beauty and strength, our mental competency and agility, all that we have and use to define ourselves, slip away from us with time.  Our lives are limited.  Our existence, in every way we can comprehend it, comes to an end.  We will all die.  In a matter of time, all that will be left of any of us is a decomposing body.
Today is a day to soberly put aside the blinders we have about the mystery of death and our fear of it.  Death is very real and its approach holds great power in our lives.  The "good news" we are about to celebrate has no real power in our lives unless we have faced the reality of death.  To contemplate Jesus' body, there in that tomb, is to look our death in the face, and it is preparation for hearing the Gospel with incredible joy.  That we are saved from the ultimate power of sin and of death itself comes to us as a great relief, as a tremendous liberation.  If Jesus lives, you and I will live!  The mystery of death, which we contemplate today, will be overcome - we will live forever!
The Harrowing of Hell
iBenedictines Holy Saturday 2018 Reflection:
Holy Saturday: once more we experience the silence and stillness of this ‘time out of time’ when earth awaits the Resurrection. It seems so bleak: there are no sacraments, no light, no warmth, and we can do nothing. It is as though life itself were suspended; yet it isn’t. This is the day when God alone acts, powerfully, redemptively. This is the day of God’s unseen activity, the Harrowing of Hell. Tonight the darkness will be shattered for ever and heaven and earth unite in one triumphant blaze of glory and new life. Christ will rise, never to die again. We shall be one with the events of two thousand years ago and all our sin and shame will be seen in a new guise as ‘a happy fault, the necessary sin of Adam,’ and we shall know ourselves loved as never before. Our Redeemer will be with us.
(2017 reflection from iBenedictines here) 

Walking in Darkness - The Evangelical Liberal
Holy Saturday is a day of remembrance, a day of waiting. It is a day of disappointments, of deferred hopes, of dreams in ruins, of the aching void of grief. A day of darkness, doubt and disappointment, even of despair. It is the day for all those struggling with loss, bereavement, uncertainty, chronic depression or any of the other forms of inner darkness. It is a lightless day when the Sun refuses to rise—the Dark Night of the Soul; the Valley of the Shadow of Death. It is a day in which there seems to be no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel; a day when all the former certainties and supports on which life and faith were based have been suddenly snatched away. It is a day which for some can last for months, even years.
Holy Saturday is a day in which hope seems dead and God distant, absent, or worse still an enemy. The writer of Psalm 88, one the bleakest passages in Scripture, knew all too well this experience:
“You have put me in the lowest pit, in the darkest depths…
my eyes are dim with grief…
Why, O Lord, do you reject me and hide your face from me?
…You have taken my companions and loved ones from me;
the darkness is my closest friend.”
Holy Saturday does not chime with our expectations of the victorious, joyous Christian life; of blessing and intimacy with our loving Father. Yet it is a valid—perhaps a vital—part of the Christian experience; one that most of us will face at some time and which will perhaps do more to shape us in Christ’s likeness than any other. We need to stand with our brothers and sisters who are going through this Holy Saturday experience; for Christ’s sake we dare not shun them, blame them, tell them to pull themselves together, or insist that they should just be happy in Jesus. Christ too has walked through the darkness and dread of Gethsemane and Good Friday; has waited in the tomb of Holy Saturday.
To those who have been in the dark for as long as they can remember, the hope of Easter may seem a distant, even a false and mocking one. Yet it is a certain, unshakeable truth that for all who cling to Jesus, the tomb of death will one day become the womb of new life; however long delayed, day will follow night. Then truly those who walk in darkness will see a great light; on those who live in the land of the shadow of death will the light shine.

Learning to Wait In the Dark: A Holy Saturday Reflection
Holy Saturday reminds me that one has to learn how to be Christian. When I first came to Christian faith, the day meant nothing to me. It was the blank day between the high dramas of Good Friday and Easter, the day when nothing happened. Jesus was dead and buried. Everyone had gone home to get some rest. In the morning he would rise triumphant from the grave but meanwhile there was nothing to do. The church service — if there was one — lasted no more than fifteen minutes. It seemed rude to go shopping after that, or to check the movie listings. So I puttered the day away, rattling around the house doing nothing much while the clock ticked toward Easter. Holy Saturday was a placeholder, an empty set of parentheses, a waiting room for a train that would not come until morning.
[snip]
.................Sometimes I lay down on a pew, which was how I began to imagine Jesus lying on a stone ledge in the dark. I had been to Jerusalem, so I knew how tombs looked in those days: low holes in rock walls, with narrow bunks inside to hold the dead bodies until the flesh on them was gone and the bones could be gathered up for safe-keeping.
That was where Jesus spent Holy Saturday: in a dark hole in the ground, doing absolutely nothing. It was the Sabbath, after all. His friends had worked hard to make sure he was laid to rest before the sun went down. Then they went home to rest too, because that was what they did on Saturdays. Once it was clear that there was nothing they could do to secure their own lives or the lives of those they loved, they rested in the presence of the Maker of All Life and waited to see what would happen next.
Though Christians speak of “witnesses to the resurrection,” there were no witnesses. Everyone who saw Jesus alive again saw him after. As many years as I have been listening to Easter sermons, I have never heard anyone talk about that part. Resurrection is always announced with Easter lilies, the sound of trumpets, bright streaming light. But it did not happen that way. Whatever happened to Jesus between Saturday and Sunday, it happened in the dark, with the smell of damp stone and dug earth in the air. It happened where no one but him could talk about it later, and he did not talk about it — at least not so anyone could explain it to anyone else.
That is what Holy Saturday has taught me about being Christian. Between the great dramas of life, there is almost always a time of empty waiting — with nothing to do and no church service to help — a time when it is necessary to come up with your own words and see how they sound with no other sounds to cover them up. If you are willing to rest in this Sabbath, where you cannot see your hand in front of your face and none of your self-protective labors can do you one bit of good, then you may come as close to the Christ as you will ever get — there in that quiet cave where you wait to see how the Maker of All Life will choose to come to you in the dark.

Laurence Freeman OSB - Holy Saturday
A day of transition. Of choosing between patience and restlessness. Of ‘waiting in joyful hope’ or of anger at loss of control.
I told someone recently of a mutual friend who was ‘in transition’, meaning they were at one of those in between periods of life. The person I was telling looked shocked and utterly taken aback. ‘I would never have thought..’ they started to say. As we could say ‘in transition’ of ourselves or of anyone on pretty well any day or in any phase of life, I was surprised by their response. Then the misunderstanding crept out of the corner where all misunderstandings hide. By ‘in transition’ they thought I meant gender change.
This would indeed be a major transition, filled with fear, hope and anticipation by whoever feels compelled to undertake it. But, in fact, the transition of Holy Saturday for the patient Christian is not less. When we reflect on what is happening deep down in the earth, out of sight, far out of reach of the dualistic mind we see an irreversible, evolutionary change is underway. Having crossed the valley of death, Jesus dives deep into all the layers of matter and consciousness from which the human has arisen, through all the stirrings of planetary and cosmic consciousness.
Icons illustrate this as the ‘descent into hell’, the nether regions that remain untouchable and unknowable to the ordinary functions of the human mind. They are  alien to what we think of as civilisation. Reaching this deep mind of creation, Jesus – and perhaps all who die – touches the source where it is also seen as the point of return. In every cycle there is a turning point, where yin transitions to yang and in time yang yields to yin. In every journey there is a point where we shift imperceptibly from being the one who left to one who is arriving.
Hamlet peers into this journey over the event horizon ‘from whose bourn no traveller returns’. What if one traveller does return? What if that unity that allows us to speak of humanity as a whole, not just as a mass of individuals, were to be touched and gathered into one who makes this journey not just for himself but with and, compassionately, for us? What would that say about our life on the daily surface, about the unity of the human family unity and about the meaning of death, our final finality?
It would be worth waiting patiently for, just to see. We would need patience for the coming of that moment of consciousness, called the vision of faith, where we see that the return has happened because it is happening. To rise from this depth would be more than a transition to another point on the spectrum. It would be a complete transformation, a bridging of opposites, the conquest of fear. Not less, in fact, than a new creation. While still going through the cycles of life, we would be already sharing in the mind of the one who returns, seeing through his eyes. We would feel as if – along with all humanity before and after us – that we were, finally, waking up.

A reading from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday - The Lord's descent into hell


A reading from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday
The Lord's descent into hell

"What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam's son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: 'My Lord be with you all.' And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.

‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.

‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden.

‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image.

'See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one.


`I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.

‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God.

"The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages." 

16 Apr 2017

Easter Vigil in Rome - Pope Francis at Easter vigil: the Lord is alive!

(Vatican Radio) Pope Francis celebrated the Easter Vigil Mass on Saturday evening in St. Peter’s Basilica, beginning with the lighting of the Paschal Candle and the singing of the exultet, then the readings recalling the great moments in salvation history, and then the proclamation of the Good News: Christ is risen from the dead.

In his homily, the Holy Father said, “Let us go back to proclaim, to share, to reveal that it is true: the Lord is alive! He is living and he wants to rise again in all those faces that have buried hope, buried dreams, buried dignity.”

“If we cannot let the Spirit lead us on this road,” he said, “then we are not Christians.”

Let us go, then,” he went on to say. “Let us allow ourselves to be surprised by this new dawn and by the newness that Christ alone can give.  May we allow his tenderness and his love to guide our steps.
May we allow the beating of his heart to quicken our faintness,” of our own.

Full text of Pope Francis homily available HERE.

15 Apr 2017

Keeping Vigil at the Tomb of the Lord

"He was crucified, died and was buried.
He descended to the dead.............."

Holy Saturday, Sabbatum Sanctum in Latin, is the last day of Holy Week, and the 40th day of the traditional Lenten fast, although Lent ends liturgically on the evening of Holy Thursday. The evening of Holy Saturday begins the third and final day of the Paschal Triduum. In the Latin Church, no Masses are celebrated on Holy Saturday, and the day is essentially a sparse time of reflection upon Christ's death and burial in anticipation of the Great Vigil of Easter (Paschal Vigil). The vigil usually begins the night of Holy Saturday, lasting until Easter morning. Very little happens on Holy Saturday, that is until the beginning of the Great Paschal Vigil.


How does our meditation on the meaning of Holy Saturday challenge us to act while we are still among the living? Christians by definition are followers of Christ, called to do what he did: “Do this in memory of me”. But it is profoundly disturbing to consider fully what “this” might entail. 
We can begin, as all prayer should, by giving thanks. Taking up a line of the Easter Exultet, we can reflect upon “What good would life have been to us, had Christ not come as our Redeemer?” The state of being dead, of all that is good, true and beautiful in us and in life being vanquished, defeated and swallowed up in a deathly void; this would have been our permanent fate if Christ had not died for us and been raised from the dead. To appreciate being rescued, we need to contemplate what we have been rescued from. 
As we reflect on Christ’s descent into hell, are we not also invited to consider the various hells that are our own construction work in progress, or which we already partially occupy? The no-go signs we have already erected against God’s grace, the self-destructive places in our inner lives to which we retreat whether out of fear or pain, and from which we inevitably emerge only to wound and hurt? Can we dare to believe in the power of “the weakness of love” to reach us and heal us?And what about all of those whose innocent lives have been crushed and who have been condemned to a hellish existence by the actions, inaction and inhumanity of others? Can we take time in prayer to enter into solidarity with them in their profound sense of abandonment and desolation?
Continue reading reflection from Fr Eamonn Conway here.

Once again we have reached Holy Saturday, a day of great silence and stillness as earth awaits the Resurrection. Our churches are empty of colour and warmth, there are no sacraments to affirm the bonds between this world and the next, and we experience to the full what life without Christ is like. For a monk or nun, indeed for most of us, I suspect, life is largely lived in ‘Holy Saturday mode’ as we go on, as best we can, waiting, waiting, waiting for God to act. Today, when the threat of war hangs heavy over the world, the illusion of control with which we try to comfort ourselves at other times is revealed for what it is: sheer illusion. Most of the big things that affect our lives are entirely beyond our control, but we ignore that. We like to think that we are in charge — only we aren’t, really. Does that mean we are mere puppets, eking out our existence in bitterness of soul, without hope? Surely not. God created us in his own image and likeness, and there is in each of us something that reflects, uniquely and beautifully, our Creator. We are called to co-operate with him, to allow grace to transform us, but we waste so much time trying to resist, to do things our own way. It takes Holy Saturday to jerk us back into reality.
Continue reading at iBenedictines HERE.




A reading from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday
The Lord's descent into hell

"What is happening? Today there is a great silence over the earth, a great silence, and stillness, a great silence because the King sleeps; the earth was in terror and was still, because God slept in the flesh and raised up those who were sleeping from the ages. God has died in the flesh, and the underworld has trembled.

Truly he goes to seek out our first parent like a lost sheep; he wishes to visit those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. He goes to free the prisoner Adam and his fellow-prisoner Eve from their pains, he who is God, and Adam's son.

The Lord goes in to them holding his victorious weapon, his cross. When Adam, the first created man, sees him, he strikes his breast in terror and calls out to all: 'My Lord be with you all.' And Christ in reply says to Adam: ‘And with your spirit.’ And grasping his hand he raises him up, saying: ‘Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you light.

‘I am your God, who for your sake became your son, who for you and your descendants now speak and command with authority those in prison: Come forth, and those in darkness: Have light, and those who sleep: Rise.

‘I command you: Awake, sleeper, I have not made you to be held a prisoner in the underworld. Arise from the dead; I am the life of the dead. Arise, O man, work of my hands, arise, you who were fashioned in my image. Rise, let us go hence; for you in me and I in you, together we are one undivided person.

‘For you, I your God became your son; for you, I the Master took on your form; that of slave; for you, I who am above the heavens came on earth and under the earth; for you, man, I became as a man without help, free among the dead; for you, who left a garden, I was handed over to Jews from a garden and crucified in a garden.

‘Look at the spittle on my face, which I received because of you, in order to restore you to that first divine inbreathing at creation. See the blows on my cheeks, which I accepted in order to refashion your distorted form to my own image.

'See the scourging of my back, which I accepted in order to disperse the load of your sins which was laid upon your back. See my hands nailed to the tree for a good purpose, for you, who stretched out your hand to the tree for an evil one.


`I slept on the cross and a sword pierced my side, for you, who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side healed the pain of your side; my sleep will release you from your sleep in Hades; my sword has checked the sword which was turned against you.

‘But arise, let us go hence. The enemy brought you out of the land of paradise; I will reinstate you, no longer in paradise, but on the throne of heaven. I denied you the tree of life, which was a figure, but now I myself am united to you, I who am life. I posted the cherubim to guard you as they would slaves; now I make the cherubim worship you as they would God.

"The cherubim throne has been prepared, the bearers are ready and waiting, the bridal chamber is in order, the food is provided, the everlasting houses and rooms are in readiness; the treasures of good things have been opened; the kingdom of heaven has been prepared before the ages." 


27 Mar 2016

Pope at Easter Vigil urges us to let Risen Christ into our lives


(Vatican Radio) - Pope Francis on Saturday evening presided at the Easter Vigil in St Peter’s Basilica, with the baptism of 12 catechumens from Italy, Albania, Cameroon, Korea, India and China.

In his homily the Pope reflected on the actions of Peter who ran to Jesus’ tomb on the first Easter morning. Even though he, like the other disciples, had not believed the testimony of the women who had already found the empty grave, the Pope noted that Peter was not overwhelmed by doubt or consumed by remorse.

Like the women who had gone to bury the body, the Pope said, Peter did not give into sadness and darkness but allowed the light of God to enter his heart. Like Peter and the women, he said, let us not stay imprisoned within ourselves, but instead break open our sealed tombs and let the Risen Christ into our hearts. Though we will always encounter problem, we must let the light of Christ shine on them, knowing that He is always at our side and will not let us down

Pope Francis said this certainty is the foundation of our Christian hope which is not mere optimism or a desire to be courageous. The Spirit, he said, does not remove evil with a magic wand. But rather He pours into us the vitality of life and the knowledge that Christ has conquered fear, sin and death, compelling us to set out and announce this Easter message to others.

Full text of the Pope's homily after the jump.

26 Mar 2016

Holy Saturday: feeling His absence; yearning for His presence - Jericho Tree



From Jericho Tree - Anyone visiting a church or chapel this Holy Saturday will meet the shock of an open and empty tabernacle, and an extinguished sanctuary lamp. We all know it’s coming, but each year it’s upsetting to see, as we halt mid-genuflection and realise, ‘He’s not here’.

The absence of one whose presence we love – how painful this can be. Those who are bereaved know moments like this – suddenly realising that your mother won’t be at the Christmas table, or struggling through the birthday of your deceased child – these moments produce the sharpest grief. And in conjunction with the sudden awareness of absence, we find ourselves yearning for the presence we’re missing.

A well-loved contemporary song, Let Her Go, by Passenger, puts its finger on this phenomenon:
Well you only need the light when it’s burning low,
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow,
Only know you love her when you let her go.
Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low,
Only hate the road when you’re missing home,
Only know you love her when you let her go.
We take Jesus’ presence for granted so often, but when it is taken from our tabernacles, in commemoration of his time in the tomb, we feel his absence keenly.

In the spiritual life, many great saints experience times of desolation which are understood as invitations to greater faith and detachment. This experience is sometimes called the ‘dark night of the soul’. In a sense, the period from Good Friday to the Easter Vigil is the ecclesial equivalent, a time for all of us to fumble in the darkness and yearn for light. But, besides being an opportunity to exercise our faith, what use does it serve?

At a time when many of our contemporaries are living their lives without reference to the divine, I think Holy Saturday is a time for us to draw close to those who feel God’s absence. I don’t know what it’s like to live as if God doesn’t exist, but there must be times in any atheist’s life when he or she yearns for the divine. The poet, Dennis O’Driscoll, expresses precisely this sentiment in his poem, Missing God:
[…] though we rebelled against Him
like adolescents, uplifted to see
an oppressive father banished –
a bearded hermit – to the desert,
we confess to missing Him at times.

Miss Him during the civil wedding
when, at the blossomy altar
of the registrar’s desk, we wait in vain
to be fed a line containing words
like ‘everlasting’ and ‘divine’.

Miss Him when the TV scientist
explains the cosmos through equations,
leaving our planet to revolve on its axis
aimlessly, a wheel skidding in snow.

Miss Him when the radio catches a snatch
of plainchant from some echoey priory;
when the gospel choir raises its collective voice
to ask Shall We Gather at the River?
or the forces of the oratorio converge
on I Know That My Redeemer Liveth
and our contracted hearts lose a beat.
The poem continues, multiplying occasions when God is ‘missed’. As I said, I don’t know what it’s like to live as an atheist, but I do know what it’s like to feel the absence of the Lord – the whole Church does, each year on Holy Saturday. But if we live this day in solidarity with our secular contemporaries, we live it differently from them too, since we do not live this absence without hope for the return of the yearned-for presence. So on Holy Saturday we keep our eyes on the empty tabernacle, we miss Him, and we wait hopefully for his returning presence, trusting in His words:
‘A little while, and you will see me no more, again a little while, and you will see me’ (Jn 16:16).

Holy Saturday

There is no liturgy on Holy Saturday.  We spend the day reflecting upon the powerful reality of Jesus' death.  What is important is that we keep this day holy, and let our “sense” of the mystery of death shape our reflection, and our longing to celebrate the Easter gift of Jesus alive, for us and with us. 
 
If we are able to celebrate the Easter Vigil, we can renew our Baptismal Promises in a way the completes our Lenten journey to the font.  We offer a renewal of our Baptismal promises here, which we might do, in these or similar words, which any of us might make as we keep a vigil of readings and prayer Saturday night, or early Easter Sunday Morning.

“On Holy Saturday, the Church waits at the Lord's tomb in prayer and fasting, meditating on his Passion and Death and on his Descent into Hell, and awaiting his Resurrection.
 
The Church abstains from the Sacrifice of the Mass with the sacred table left bare, until after the solemn Vigil, that is, the anticipation by night of the Resurrection, when the time comes for paschal joys, the abundance of which overflows to occupy 50 days.”
 


Band: Céli Dé collective
Album: Hymns of Passion and Resurrection
Hymn: Caoineadh na dtrĂ­ Muire - The Lament of the Three Marys.



Verse 1
Nó an é sin an maicín a h-oileadh in ucht Mháire?
Óchón agus óchón-ó
An é sin an maicín a d'iompar mé trí raithe?
Óchón agus óchón-ó

Verse 2
Nó an é sin an maicín a rugadh insan stábla?
Óchón agus óchón-ó
A mhicín a mhúirneach, tá do shrón 's do bhéailín gearrtha
Óchón agus óchón-ó

Verse 3
Cuireadh táirní maola trína cosa is trína lámha
Óchón agus óchón-ó
Cuireadh an tsleá trína bhrollach álainn
Óchón agus óchón-ó


English Translation
Verse 1
Is that the son nourished at Mary's breast
"Alas and woe to me"
Or is that the son I carried three terms
"Alas and woe to me"

Verse 2
Or is that the son born in the stable
"Alas and woe to me"
My son my darling your nose and mouth are cut
"Alas and woe to me"

Verse 3
Blunt nails were driven through his feet and hands
"Alas and woe to me"
The spear was put through his beautiful chest
"Alas and woe to me"

 
Today, the earth in vigil keeps
The Sabbath of the Bridegroom blest.
The Cross, in stillness, bare now stands,
As Christ the Lord is laid to rest.
Today, the pow’r of hell is crushed.
The gates of bronze are trampled down.
The Lord of life now marches in
To wake the dead and claim his crown.
Today, he calls them, by their names,
Those souls enslaved since Adam’s Fall.
He comes to save them from hell’s grasp:
The Christ, who died to save them all.
Today, our righteous forebears sing,
And David’s harp rings out in praise
Of Christ, their conq’ring risen Lord,
Who lives and reigns for length of days.
 
 
Reflection for Holy Saturday - Creighton University
 
2014 SS102fm reflections for Holy Saturday including the Reading from an ancient homily for Holy Saturday

4 Apr 2015

Easter Vigil 2015 - Pope Francis Homily - "Entering into the mystery of Easter means 'going out in search of truth, beauty and love'"


Tonight is a night of vigil. The Lord is not sleeping; the Watchman is watching over his people (cf Ps 121:4), to bring them out of slavery and to open before them the way to freedom.

The Lord is keeping watch and, by the power of his love, he is bringing his people through the Red Sea.
He is also bringing Jesus through the abyss of death and the netherworld.

This was a night of vigil for the disciples of Jesus, a night of sadness and fear. The men remained locked in the Upper Room. Yet, the women went to the tomb at dawn on Sunday to anoint Jesus’s body. Their hearts were overwhelmed and they were asking themselves: “How will we enter? Who will roll back the stone of the tomb?…”

But here was the first sign of the great event: the large stone was already rolled back and the tomb was open!

“Entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe…” (Mk 16:5). The women were the first to see this great sign, the empty tomb; and they were the first to enter…

“Entering the tomb”. It is good for us, on this Vigil night, to reflect on the experience of the women, which also speaks to us. For that is why we are here: to enter, to enter into the Mystery which God has accomplished with his vigil of love.

We cannot live Easter without entering into the mystery. It is not something intellectual, something we only know or read about… It is more, much more!

“To enter into the mystery” means the ability to wonder, to contemplate; the ability to listen to the silence and to hear the tiny whisper amid great silence by which God speaks to us (cf 1 Kgs 19:12).

To enter into the mystery demands that we not be afraid of reality: that we not be locked into ourselves, that we not flee from what we fail to understand, that we not close our eyes to problems or deny them, that we not dismiss our questions..

To enter into the mystery means going beyond our own comfort zone, beyond the laziness and indifference which hold us back, and going out in search of truth, beauty and love. It is seeking a deeper meaning, an answer, and not an easy one, to the questions which challenge our faith, our fidelity and our very existence.

To enter into the mystery, we need humility, the lowliness to abase ourselves, to come down from the pedestal of our “I” which is so proud, of our presumption; the humility not to take ourselves so seriously, recognizing who we really are: creatures with strengths and weaknesses, sinners in need of forgiveness.

To enter into the mystery we need the lowliness that is powerlessness, the renunciation of our idols… in a word, we need to adore. Without adoration, we cannot enter into the mystery.

The women who were Jesus’s disciples teach us all of this. They kept watch that night, together with Mary. And she, the Virgin Mother, helped them not to lose faith and hope. As a result, they did not remain prisoners of fear and sadness, but at the first light of dawn they went out carrying their ointments, their hearts anointed with love. They went forth and found the tomb open. And they went in.

They had kept watch, they went forth and they entered into the Mystery. May we learn from them to keep watch with God and with Mary our Mother, so that we too may enter into the Mystery which leads from death to life.

Easter Vigil at the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre

Because of the Status Quo agreement which governs the operations of the liturgies in the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre the Latin Christians of Jerusalem have already celebrated their Easter vigil on the morning of Holy Saturday which is in line with the timing of the liturgies prior to the reforms of Pius XII in 1955. 

You can read about the moving liturgy takes place in the spot where the glorious events we celebrate today here with photos.

Holy Saturday Reflections - updated

The Edicule (the structure around the Tomb) in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre 
Our shepherd, the source of the water of life, has died.
The sun was darkened when he passed away.
But now man’s captor is made captive.
This is the day when our Savior broke through the gates of death.
He has destroyed the barricades of hell,
overthrown the sovereignty of the devil.
This is the day when our Savior broke through the gates of death.
– Responsory of the Office of Readings for Holy Saturday
Reflection Question from Seek first the Kingdom: There is a great silence and stillness on earth today. The Lord has died in the flesh and is in the cold tomb. It will not be the end of the story for Christ, but what of us? What am I doing now so that I might die with Jesus and thus rise with him?


**********





Our Shepherd, the source of living water has departed.
At his passing the sun was darkened,
for he who captured Adam is held captive now himself.
Today our Saviour has shattered the gates of bronze,
and battered down the barricades of hell.


Behold the blessed Sabbath, the holy day of rest,
on which the Son of God has rested from his works.
Today our Saviour has shattered the gates of bronze,
and battered down the barricades of hell.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.

Our Shepherd, the source of living water has departed.
At his passing the sun was darkened,
for he who captured Adam is held captive now himself.
Today our Saviour has shattered the gates of bronze,
and battered down the barricades of hell.


*********




Holy Saturday: Waiting to cross over - We tend to think of Holy Saturday as a day ‘in between’ Good Friday and Easter Sunday, without any particular significance of its own. But this could not be further from the truth, says James Hanvey SJ. It is a day that resists all of our attempts to understand it, but nonetheless we must ‘live in the realities of Holy Saturday’.

Between the Sadness of the Cross and the Joy of Easter — Biblical Reflection for Holy Saturday - Salt + Light

Holy Saturday - The Great Silence - Word on Fire

Holy Fear and the Shadow of the Cross - Today, the Church takes us under the shadow of Calvary to behold our salvation and to approach this sacred place requires a reverence and awe that are not of this world. The Man of Sorrows gives Himself for our salvation, lays down His life that we might live. We come here today because of the burden of guilt that we have carried for far to long, the reality of death that we cannot avoid, and the desire to be understood and loved, to be connected to Someone who can relieve the sense of alienation that we suffer, to the only One who can fulfill at last the desires of our hearts. We dare to call out to Him "remember me" because of the heart-piercing gifts by which the Holy Spirit moves our hearts.

Ennis Blue - reflections and links


**********


TODAY a tomb holds him, who holds creation in the hollow of his hands. Life sleeps, hell trembles, and Adam is delivered from his bonds. 
Let us see, O Lord, the light of your holy resurrection as we sing: « Glory to your mercy, O Christ! »
Let God arise and let his enemies be scattered: let those who hate him flee before him. 
Let us see, O Lord, the light of your holy resurrection as we sing: « Glory to your mercy, O Christ! »
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
TODAY a tomb holds him, who holds creation in the hollow of his hands. Life sleeps, hell trembles, and Adam is delivered from his bonds. 
Let us see, O Lord, the light of your holy resurrection as we sing: « Glory to your mercy, O Christ! »

Beginning of the epitaphios procession
at Great Saturday Matins - Orthodox tradition
(Source - Wikipedia)
In Eastern Orthodoxy this day, known as Holy and Great Saturday, is also called The Great Sabbath since it is on this day that Christ "rested" physically in the tomb. But it is also believed that it was on this day he performed in spirit the Harrowing of Hades and raised up to Paradise those who had been held captive there. In the Coptic, Ethiopian and Eritrean Orthodox Churches, this day is known as Joyous Saturday.

Matins of Holy and Great Saturday (in parishes usually held on Friday evening) takes the form of a funeral service for Christ. The entire service takes place around the Epitaphios, an icon in the form of a cloth embroidered with the image of Christ prepared for burial. 

The first part of the service consists of chanting Psalm 118, as usual at both Saturday matins and at funerals, but interspersed with hymns (enkomia or lamentations) between the verses. The predominant theme of the service is not so much one of mourning, but of watchful expectation:[5]

Today Thou dost keep holy the seventh day,
Which Thou has blessed of old by resting from Thy works.
Thou bringest all things into being and Thou makest all things new,
Observing the Sabbath rest, my Saviour, and restoring strength.

Near the end of matins, at the end of the Great Doxology, the Epitaphios is taken up and carried in procession around the outside of the church, while the Trisagion is sung, as is done when carrying the body to the cemetery in an Orthodox burial.


Our Lady of Solitude
Today, the earth in vigil keeps
The Sabbath of the Bridegroom blest.
The Cross, in stillness, bare now stands,
As Christ the Lord is laid to rest.
Today, the pow’r of hell is crushed.
The gates of bronze are trampled down.
The Lord of life now marches in
To wake the dead and claim his crown.
Today, he calls them, by their names,
Those souls enslaved since Adam’s Fall.
He comes to save them from hell’s grasp:
The Christ, who died to save them all.
Today, our righteous forebears sing,
And David’s harp rings out in praise
Of Christ, their conq’ring risen Lord,
Who lives and reigns for length of days. 
Amen.