A Painting and A Purpose

This weekend this year reminds me of a painting.
The story behind this painting (an oil painting, I might add) begins sometime back in the 1960's or maybe even earlier. My Aunt Agnes and Uncle Bill became aware of a devotion at that time unfamiliar to very many. It was Devotion to the Mercy of Jesus. They felt it to be very important, so much so that they began doing whatever they could to introduce others to it.
Want a Divine Mercy holy card? Here, have this one!
Want a pamphlet explaining the devotion and its history and meaning? Here, have this one!
A pamphlet with appropriate prayers? Here you go!
They became "missionaries for Mercy."
Aunt Agnes passed away in the mid 1970's. To honor her memory and also to further her dedication to that Mission of Mercy, Uncle Bill commissioned a New York artist to do an oil painting of the Mercy of Jesus.
That work is splendid!
When it was finished, Uncle Bill took it to his parish church. The plan was for it to be displayed in the place where the two of them prayed and worshipped and to encourage others to discover this movement.
The gift was turned down. No place for it! No need for it!
The painting went back with Uncle Bill.
Eventually he sold his house and moved into a condo and the painting went with him.
He joined a parish nearby and again offered the painting as gift there.
Again the rejection! No place for it! No need for it!
It went back with him to the condo where for years it hung on a wall opposite his front door. Anyone coming to that front door would be greeted by the image of Divine Mercy.
The years passed.
In 2002 I became pastor of St. Aidan Parish in Livonia.
A while after, some of us gathered to celebrate Uncle Bill's birthday. At that gathering I spoke with him privately, asking if he might consider loaning me the painting for Lent/Easter to introduce the devotion to the parish.
Needless to say, he was thrilled!
When I journeyed across town to pick up the painting, it was ready, all carefully wrapped for the journey to St. Aidan.
I assured my uncle that it would be returned after the Easter Season ended.
When Pentecost arrived, the painting came down and was packed for its journey back to its home of many years. We had a family gathering a few days later and Uncle Bill was there. He asked to see the church and specifically the place where the painting had hung.
I showed him and as I did, I could see a glow on his face.
"Put it back," he told me!
"Let it stay."
But he added that he was not giving it to the parish. He was giving it to me as a trust for my care. One stipulation was added. It should never end up in an attic or a basement!
When I retired, the painting came with me. However, I just knew it was not meant to be on some wall in my residence. Its very purpose was to draw others to the Mercy of Jesus. I needed to find a proper home.
Soon after retiring I began almost weekly trips to Oxford to stay for a few days and serve as a sort of part-time chaplain to a group of Dominican Sisters there.
Our family had longstanding ties with this community. They ministered in the parish where I grew up and taught in our parish school. I, my siblings and most cousins were taught by them. Even some of my mother's younger sisters were taught by them. As family and parish community we made  trips to Oxford for pilgrimages, for festivals and for retreats.
Oxford would make a fitting "home" for the painting and so it was placed there where it still occupies a place of honor drawing others to know Divine Mercy.
And on the Easter of the year that this painting found its "home," the Oxford Dominicans joined with several other Dominican communities to become the Dominican Sisters of Peace!
They are now a community dedicated to building true Peace.
The tale of this painting reflects the story of the growth of this devotion.
For years it was hidden, obscure save for people like Aunt Agnes and Uncle Bill.
Then the Spirit blessed us with a Cardinal from Poland who became Bishop of Rome.
He knew first hand of this devotion. The name "Faustina" was a familiar one to him
He eye-witnessed war and the ugliness it holds. He knew of oppression and persecution and genocide.
He knew the ugliness of hate.
And that told him of our need for Mercy and for being a People of Mercy.
And so we now have a great feast, a solemnity, the Solemnity of the Divine Mercy.
This Feast, like that certain oil painting, calls us to be a people who long to replace hate and vengeance with mercy and healing.
And in our lives, as followers of the Merciful One, we work to embody mercy.
"Peace be with you!"was the Risen Lord's Easter greeting!
This is God's intent for all of us.

Babushka Brigade

Maybe we need some real grandmas these days.
I mean, look around. What do we have today?
We have women who are grandmothers and who still look like they are not yet out of their twenties (or maybe thirties.) They are active and fashionable and also often career women. They don't fit any pattern that I remember for when we had grandmas!
And today gets me thinking that some of us could perhaps use some of those old fashioned, "real" grandmas.
I can recall the days way back when the "real" grandmas certainly added a touch of excitement to the old Easter Vigil in places having such grandmas.
Now we are talking about back in the late 1940's and 1950's.
And I did say way back when.
If your imagination can take you back that far, you can visualize what I mean by "real" grandmas.
They were the ones in frumpy dresses, probably black and not stylized or fashionable wintery coats and definitely wearing babushkas. Old school style! Old World!
Maybe we might consider starting up Babushka Brigades in our parishes!
It could even be a new ministry!
In those days gone by where we would find Babushka Brigades, we would definitely find some down to earth raw excitement at our Easter Vigils.
Now let me take you back to the Easter Vigils that I am remembering and that means back to the 1940's and 1950's.
Back then I was a kid in grade school.
And back then Lent officially ended on Holy Saturday at noon.
And the Easter Vigil took place sometime before that, usually very early in the morning, around 6:00 or 6:30 AM.
I got my first experience of the Easter Vigil then as my dad would attend and he would manage to wake me up and get me off with him to the Vigil.
As you might suspect, the Vigils at that time were not exactly big events, considered central to our entire Church Year. They were something we did to get ourselves to Easter. A handful of faithful would attend, but always, always in those Polish parishes there would be the Babushka Brigade.

I might mention here that because of this understanding (or lack) of the Easter Vigil, many cultures developed popular devotions to celebrate the Resurrection. Some places would have an early Sunday morning Mass, often including a procession, to celebrate the Resurrection. In the parish in which I grew up, we had a lengthy sung prayer service and a triumphant procession on Holy Saturday evening.
The Vigil, however, back then was a strange phenomenon, known by and experienced by very few. The popular devotions drew the large numbers.
But the Babushka Brigade would definitely be present at the Vigil, especially in Polish Parishes.
And dad took me to those parishes. We had a couple of them close by - St. Stanislaus and St. Hyacinth. One or other of these is where we would usually land.
The Vigil then, as now, began outside. There would be a fire.
And in the Polish parishes often the custom was to include thorn branches (yes, with those long, sharp things that could hurt) in the fire. The thorns were considered blessed along with the fire.
As the priest moved away from the fire and into the church, water would quickly douse the flames. Once the fire was out, the thorn branches were there to be claimed.
And that is when the Babushka Brigade sprung into action.
These ladies did not worry about decorum or any sort of etiquette. They were taking home some of those thorn branches. So it was that they threw themselves to the branches. What excitement! And what risk! I mean, those thorns could hurt!
While things continued inside the church, many remained outside watching those grandmas springing into action.
And the Babushka Brigade was not finished yet.
Eventually, thorn branches in hand or often enough placed in the paper bags they brought , they would join the rest of us in the church building.There the twelve Scripture readings (yes! I said twelve and they would all be read) were taking place, leading into the blessing of the water.
When the water was blessed, the Brigade sprung into action once again. It did not matter that other things were happening in the sanctuary, at the altar. From their paper bags they would produce empty jars, significant in size. They would move toward the newly blessed tubs of water and, I should say, they did not move in any sort of gentle fashion. Those jars had to be filled. Reaching over anyone in their way, they drew that newly blessed water and filled their jars. The whole scene is reminicant of some scenes from the day after Thanksgiving Black Friday events.
Branches bagged and water jars filled, they settled down for all that followed.
But they certainly added some excitement to those early morning Easter Vigils.
Maybe you might consider adding some excitement to our Evening Vigils today.
If you need excitement, organize a Babushka Brigade!
That is if you need excitement.
That's if a new fire, breaking into the darkness assuring the victory of light over darkness is not enough excitement.
That's if hearing the wondrous sound and those mystical words sung to proclaim the Easter Wonder that God conquers death itself is not excitement enough.
That's if hearing once again the stories our salvation and remembering the life-giving God at work in our lives is not excitement enough.
That's if witnessing the Power of the Resurrection being poured out on the newly baptized and the Spirit being bestowed on the newly confirmed is not excitement enough..
That's if singing the Easter Alleluia is not excitement enough.
That's if welcoming the Risen, Eucharistic Lord bringing life eternal into your life is not excitement enough.
If all of that is not excitement enough for you, then organize a Babushka Brigade.
But then again if the wonder unfolding in this Night of all Nights is really not enough excitement for you, maybe even a Babushka Brigade will not do it for you.
Maybe what you really need is to take a deeper, more serious, more faith-filled look at the wonder of the Easter Vigil! And at Easter itself!

Early that Friday morning . . .

Strange how one can remember something from many years ago and not be able to remember what I had for dinner yesterday!
That's a bit of what is going on here.
Holy Thursday brings to mind the time I was almost arrested. It happened in the middle of the night, sometime between Thursday and Friday - Good Friday.
It happened in 1953!
How's that for remembering something from a long time ago?
I was a freshman in high school back then and while I truly cannot remember how it happened, I strongly suspect that I was the organizer of this episode.
Back then what we today call The Triduum looked nothing like what we know today.
Holy Thursday Mass was not in the evening. We had no evening Masses at all, never, ever.
Mass on Holy Thursday was in the morning. In my home parish, SS. Cyril and Methodius, the old one in the Harper/Van Dyke area on the Eastside of Detroit, Mass was at 9:00. The Mass ended with a procession around the church that ended at a side altar, well decorated with flowers and candles.
There our Eucharistic Vigil began.
It went all through the day, into the evening and all through the night.
There was a massive sign up chart in the back of the building and people were encouraged for weeks ahead of time to sign up for at least one hour of vigil.
And, yes, people signed and committed and kept vigil.
Parish groups and organizations kept their hours.
Families and individuals, even those belonging to one of the organizations, kept their own hours.
That Vigil was well attended, prayerfully so, through the day, the night and right up to the Good Friday Service, which, by the way, also was at 9:00 in the morning.
And that is where the arrest story enters in.
I suspect that I came up with the idea.
Let's keep a really difficult hour of vigil.
That was the suggestion to my ninth grade classmates.
And many of my friends bought into the idea.
We were going to keep our special vigil from 2:00 to 3:00 in the morning!
Long about 1:30 that morning, we began emerging from our homes into the darkness. We all lived rather close together so, as we walked from our homes to the church, we joined together, growing in numbers.
There was a sizable number of us by the time we were crossing the street from Marcus to St. Cyril.
And that is when the police car pulled up to the scene.
Imagine!
This significant number of teens, out in the middle of the night, right there, gathered together in the street.
And the scene unfolded.
The officer asked, "What are you kids doing out at this hour?"
"We are going to church," was our reply.
Is it any wonder that the police in that squad car were somewhat skeptical?
Going to church!
Right! Sure!
Teenagers!
In the middle of the night!
Going to church!
Fortunately, the church building was right there in view.
And the lights were on.
And there were cars in the parking lot.
And people could be seen entering and leaving.
We did wind up with a police escort to the church doors.
But we did it.
We went to church.
At 2:00 Good Friday morning.
And we kept our Vigil.
And we took the time for that Vigil; we made the time for it.
Which gets me thinking.
Today folks are so busy, so hurried.
Can't take time for that!
Just to sit!
In silence!
Too much real stuff to do.
Too bad because we really need that quiet time in our lives, maybe not at 2:00 in the morning but sometime in the day and not just today, Holy Thursday, but every day.
Maybe these days we need the police to stop us for not taking the time!
Anyhow all these years later, on another Holy Thursday, I am remembering how I almost got arrested but did not because I was going to church!

The Church Is Burning . . .

On this past Monday evening, this appeared on line. It has since spread and many have already read it. For those who have not yet, I want to make it available and for those who have already read this, I invite still another reading.
For all as we approach the holiest of our days and as we ready ourselves to once again speak the renewal of our Baptismal Promises, I encourage you to not just read this article. Print it our for yourself. Carry it with you in these days.
Use it as a source of prayerful reflection.
We need words like this and more importantly, we need the actions that should follow these words.
These words were penned on the day that the Cathedral of Notre Dame burned.

The Church Is Burning . . . 

Propter Hoc!

(With a special nod to Fr. Richard Leliaert for the inspiration behind this.)

Propter Hoc!
As we approach the holiest and greatest of our days, we hear again from Paul's letter to the Philippians. (Philippians 2:6 - 11)
When we hear these very familiar words, we really need to pay a special attention to those two words: Propter Hoc!
Actually, we will not hear those exact words. After all, they are Latin and we do English nowadays. But that's OK because we will still hear those words in the vernacular. Propter Hoc comes across as Because of this.
Look carefully at what is being said here! Listen with your heart! To grasp that simple phrase is to enter the wonder and the lesson of these days.
As this ancient hymn begins and as Paul sets it out for us, we are reminded that Jesus, true God, was willing to embrace our humanity, humbling Himself, lowering Himself, becoming obedient! The One Whom all creation should obey becomes obedient! Unto death itself.
He becomes our Servant - as He said Himself, "I did not come to be served but to serve!"
He washes our feet.
He carries the burden of the cross of our sinfulness.
He pours out His all. "Father, into Your hands I commend My spirit." 
He holds nothing back from us and from His Father.
He gives His life!
 Propter hoc!
Because of this!
And the hymn goes on telling us that God raises Jesus up, giving Him a Name above every other name. And at the Name of Jesus every knee shall bow - in the heavens, on the earth and under the earth. And every voice shall proclaim that Jesus is Lord!
Propter hoc!

Because of this!
Because Jesus lowers Himself, He is exalted. Because He humbles Himself, He achieves greatness.
How that goes against almost everything society would sell us on today!
Our times define greatness in terms of power - how strong are your armies? your weapons? 
Greatness comes from prestige, position, popularity.
Greatness today is defined by the stuff you have or can have.
How big is your bank account? Your IRA? You car? Your TV screen?
That's the world in which we live today.
That's greatness!
But truth be told, that is the greatness of Palm Sunday.
That Jerusalem entry was grand, to be sure. It had palms and crowds and hosannas.
And it all soon faded, didn't it?
But learn to be humble; strive to empty self in loving service of God and neighbor; seek to make one's sincere prayer, "Into Your hands, I commend my spirit." And mean it and live it!
Propter hoc!

Because of this!
In this true greatness is to be found.

Hey! Where did they go?

Yes!



Where did they go?
Are they under there?
Is this a part of Spring Cleaning?
How can I know who I am lighting a candle to?
Where are they?

A custom dating back to the Middle Ages is being revived in many parish churches in recent times. Parishioners are discovering that the statues and images that surround them and often invite them to light a votive candle are now being covered, draped in purple bunting. These coverings  are appearing now, or perhaps next week (Holy Week) or, as I understand, in some places they have already appeared back on Ash Wednesday.
And for those who do not remember back "when," this may be something of a mystery.
Some blogs ago I wrote about a time when we had a brief pre-Lenten season called Septuagesima. In that time our whole structure of Lent (and pre-Lent) looked different from what we are used to today. We had that time to get ready for Lent, Septuagesima, and then Lent itself which culminated in a kind of season within a season.
We called this season within the season of Lent "Passiontide."
It was the final two weeks of Lent, and in those days Lent itself extended to Holy Saturday at noon. (And please don't ask me how the decision was made to end Lent at noon on Holy Saturday!)
Passiontide, those final two weeks of Lent, focused our attention strongly on the great events leading to our salvation in Jesus Christ. Little by little, cautiously and carefully, reverently we made our way to the Upper Room and the table and the bread and wine and the garden and the courtyard of Pilate and at last to that hill called Calvary.
During these days, to keep our attention riveted on these great events, we sought to remove what might distract us. That gave rise to the covering of statues and images.
Just focus on the Table.
And the Cross.
And the wonder of God's love for you!
Nothing else really matters.
Everything else is secondary.
This is what matters.
This is what we must never forget.
This is what we must never stop gathering to celebrate.
Those covered images are still there, under all that purple bunting.
They are just calling us to focus on the very heart of our Message.
"As often as you eat this Bread and drink this Cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until He comes!"  (I Corinthians 11:26)