To Hobart

I'm almost better from a nasty cold (or bronchitis almost) that's been plaguing me for eight days.

I didn't make it to Hobart last Sunday, but did manage to MC our special Launceston Mass, which was very well attended, with all present very moved and rapt in the sublime worship, God be praised. All thanks to our visiting priest, Fr Rowe, the marvellous choir – Byrd in three, plus the chant propers and several motets – and servers! I also served his private Low Mass on Monday morning, which was very special.

I head down to Hobart this afternoon, as Fr Rowe will again celebrate Mass for our community at Sacred Heart, New Town, at 10:30 am tomorrow, Sunday the 20th of July, before he concludes his visit to Tasmania and returns to the West on Monday.

As he has recently celebrated his 20th anniversary of ordination, do pray that he be ever more and more a priest after the Heart of Christ. And please offer prayers for Mother Stephanie, at our Launceston Carmel, as she is very frail and aged, and her long life appears to be drawing to that end which we all must face ere long.

Our Lady of Fatima

Having heard Mass of Our Lady of Fatima at Carmel this morning, it was good to gather with our little schola twelve hours later at St Francis and first practice, then sing Compline followed by Benediction; it seemed fitting to begin the latter with Jesu dulcis memoria, then to chant the Litany of Loreto, before proceeding to the usual Tantum ergo &c. We closed with the Sub tuum, concluding this Marian feast by flying to her patronage, that the Blessed Virgin defend us by her all-powerful intercession in all dangers.

Candlemas at Carmel

What a happy day!  According to Jungmann's take on the liturgical year, Candlemas may be said to be the end thereof, and Septuagesima its beginning – for the latter at Matins opens with the Creation of the world as told in the first chapter of Genesis, while the former is mystically our presentation and entrance, as members of Christ's Body, in the eternal Temple of God in heaven.

What a happy day!  At Carmel, for the blessing of the candles, we all meet in the large parlour, the screen drawn back, the nuns already waiting, standing with lighted candles and copies of the music for the procession, while we laity, privileged thus to behold our cloistered sisters who are otherwise already hid with Christ in God, ourselves stand abashed at this holy meeting.

What a happy day!  The celebrant – to-day, Fr Allan, my own parish priest – and server come in, with a large candle and holy water, to officiate at the Missal already on a stand; the nuns sing, the priest prays, preaches, and blesses our candles; the nuns sing, and our double procession begins: they depart through their cloisters to enter their choir behind the chapel screen, while we advance through the outer monastery, past the sacristy, to enter the public part of the chapel, each party singing together the one hymn.

What a happy day!  The solemnities of the Mass begin, with further chanting and singing in both Latin and English... we hear the Gospel of this feast; soon enough, in the Consecration and Communion, we first behold then welcome the looked-for Christ Himself, hidden beneath the sacramental signs that proclaim Him truly the Bread of heaven, the Medicine of immortality.  The last hymn done, a final prayer, and alas we return to this passing world after our foretaste of heaven.

What a happy day!  "And now you've got to do it all over again, Father," say I as he and I go to our cars, I to drive to work, he to return to his own parish church to celebrate Candlemas Mass there also; now, as I reflect, it is of course true that, each day until the Lord come at length in glory from heaven, in fulfilment of His command we do this, offering the Sacrifice and receiving the Sacrament, our foretaste of what shall be ours, all unworthily we pray, for evermore.

Semi-Pelagian Sermon

An unusual sermon at Carmel this morning: referring to the parable of the lost sheep, the preacher most unfortunately said "Well, none of us have gone astray, so how does this apply to us?"  What pride, what hubris!  Surely every Christian feels himself a lost sheep.

He went on to surmise that perhaps this parable could mean for us "good sheep" that we might have hidden talents or gifts we need to discover for ourselves and celebrate - what dreadful self-satisfied feel-good humanism!  This struck me as Semi-Pelagian at best.

I bet a Lutheran would have been horrified at such smug self-righteousness, and rightly so.

Why are Catholics in particular so addicted to congratulating themselves on their own mediocrity?

First Profession of Sr Anna Maria of the Passion, OCD

I was privileged to have some time off work to-day in order to attend the First Profession of Sister Anna Maria of the Passion at Carmel.  I was delighted with the incense used, as, by a happy trick of the light, the sanctuary was filled with a bright shining cloud thereof, almost too thick to see the clergy – which instantly reminded me of the glory of the Lord filling the Temple of old.  Sister took her vows, and then the priests proceeded to offer up the Sacrifice, uniting hers to His.  (A certain reader residing up north would have recognized his re-wording of the Rangueil Offertory by André Gouzes, OP, that most elevating chant.)

Because of commitments back at work, I had to leave at the "Our Father", but united myself to the remainder of the liturgy as I drove away.

God grant her perseverance, and every grace!

R.I.P. Sr Paul Joseph, O.C.D.

Died, in the 48th year of her Carmelite profession and the 95th of her age, Sister Paul Joseph of Mary the Mother of God, on Sunday the 24th of July 2011: on whose soul may the Lord have mercy.

Well done, thou good and faithful servant!

Sister's Requiem Mass will be held on Thursday at the Chapel of the Immaculate Heart of Mary at the Carmel of Launceston, followed by interment in the crypt of the monastery.

Sr Paul Joseph was the last of the dedicated extern sisters of the Carmel here in Tasmania.  Because of her status as "mediatrix between nuns and men" as I liked to joke, my family were privileged to often talk with her over the years.  She had a wry sense of humour and a shrewd grasp of all matters.  I recall once asking her when the nuns prayed: she ran through all the times of divine service at Carmel, then paused, and questioned me, "Do you plan to come to all of them?"

I recall her telling me of how she first tried her vocation as a Carmelite in Melbourne, but such were the rigors of that Carmel back then that she was taken from there in an ambulance!  She re-entered Carmel in Adelaide, and from there came to Tasmania, so far as I understand.

As her health failed, she moved from her extern quarters into the enclosure, and latterly was in medical care; she died a holy death early on Sunday.

Of your charity, pray for her eternal repose, and ask her to intercede that more vocations come to Carmel.

Sunday at Carmel

Back to Carmel for early Mass on Sunday morning, now Spring is here and daylight saving makes 7:30 am a more attractive time of day...

It was good to settle back into the way of things, and chant the simple syllabic Gloria in excelsis of Mass XV, plus the Sanctus and Agnus Dei from Our Lady's Mass, Mass IX, Cum jubilo.  (It had never struck me before, but is it the nuns' ardent Marian piety that moves them to choose and sing those chants?)

The priest even chose to use the Roman Canon, so all was well.  (It is always consoling, once the sermon is done, to realize the celebrant is devout and no friend of strange innovations or rubrical anomalies: then one can settle down to pray without having to endure banalities and worse.)

A stray thought that may turn out to be from the Summa Triviæ: Why is there a sermon at Mass? To remind us "that through many tribulations we must reach the kingdom of God" (Acts xiv, 22).

Good Friday

As I wrote earlier, I was again struck by the truth that I, as a sinful man, yet redeemed by Christ's Passion, am Barabbas, set free while the Holy One is made the scapegoat, our atonement and our lasting peace.  Last night (after finishing work, thanks be) I went off to hear Mass for Holy Thursday at Carmel; I felt quite unworthy to communicate, and was mindful of the fate of Judas, into whom the devil entered, so sacrilegious a communion that traitor-apostle made!

After Mass, while yet so low, I had perforce a second appointment to keep, at 9pm – to help out with the singing of Compline at St Francis, Riverside, as a conclusion to their period of adoration at the altar of repose.

To-day, Good Friday, marks not only the Lord's Passion, but (I know it sounds bad to say) the start of a most welcome holiday from work.  Thanks be indeed!  I hope I don't scandalize my readers by saying that I marked this morning by sleeping in: one can only do what one can do.  There is no Tenebræ in these parts, and I had no inclination to attend Stations mid-morning; rather, after a walk, I went off to Carmel again for the Solemn Liturgy at 3pm.

The good nuns have a Dominican friar over to celebrate the Triduum for them, which meant we had a good sermon at Mass yester-day, and another to-day: Fr remarked at the outset that our atheistic age is frightened of death and despises its mystery and meaning, preferring to wallow in emotion at best, or to commit abortion and euthanasia at worst.  That woke up the congregation!  

Being a good Thomist, our preacher then went on to carefully distinguish between the real and true suffering that Our Lord underwent in His Sacred Humanity, and the deep truth that in His Divine Nature, as God, remains transcendent and beyond all suffering – hence He both knows our woes and has undergone all for us, while being also Almighty to save.  If God in His Godhead suffered, He would no longer be all-perfect, being rather "hopelessly enmeshed in the world" and unable to save us out of our mess.  I do like anti-Modernist homilies.

When I went up to kiss the crucifix, I was consoled by the thought that there are two rituals in which all may partake: receiving the ashes at the start of Lent, and venerating the Cross at the end of it.

It greatly calmed me when Father announced he would hear confessions after the Liturgy: so having heard the readings and above all St John's Passion (in which we read the Crowd parts together with the nuns: "Not this Man, but Barabbas"...), said Amen to the Solemn Prayers, crept to the Cross, and then prayed while Communion was given, I had the consolation of making my humble confession, being reconciled on this most holy day, indeed being laved in Christ's Blood.  A decade of the Rosary before the Crucifix followed.

I can't wait now for Easter!

Another Year Over

I kept Candlemas at Carmel yester-day morning, again - as last year - assembling with the priest and laity in the large parlour, with the nuns assembled in due order behind the screen: they processed out through their convent to their wing of the chapel, while we made our way - all alike with blest candles burning bright - through the outer passageway into the public part of the chapel, thus coming together for the celebration of the Mass.

The celebrant was a devout Irish Carmelite, who preached a very interesting sermon, putting forward the symbolism of this feast: it is illuminated by and lies between two candles — the Christmas light, and the Paschal candle — the former for the Incarnation, the latter for the Passion and Resurrection of Christ our Lord and God.  The Eternal Son took on our nature, that in His own Incarnate Person He might offer perfect worship to God His Father — and by His Passion and Cross, won for us the grace, as sons in the Son, to offer perfect worship to the Father, "in spirit and truth".  We do this, of course, above all when we offer the Sacrifice of the Mass...

Thus we begin on earth that office of adoration which shall be our eternal occupation in heaven.

(Some foretaste of this, I felt, was the gentle unhurried pace of the celebration – Mass took almost an hour – the slow reading of the lessons by the nuns and the Gospel by the priest, his meditative sermon, his focussed recitation of the prayers throughout, and our singing of the timeless Gregorian chant of the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei.)

To shew in a lively fashion that ceaseless praise is our most high calling, Mass ended with the Blessed Sacrament being exposed in the monstrance for ongoing Adoration...

Blessed be God for ever!

The Holy Family

"And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and grace with God and men."  (St Luke ii, 42)

This morning — which in the Ordinary Form of the Mass is the feast of the Holy Family (in the Breviary, it is the Sunday in the Octave of Christmas), and which had the Gospel of the Finding of Our Lord in the Temple — Fr Peter, our Dominican visiting priest at Carmel, preached on the necessity of family to Christ, that in His humanity He grow up and develop: for as all men, the Son of Man could not grow up isolated and alone, but was formed as to His human nature as a member of society, needing parents, relations, friends and acquaintances;  for "no man is an island" - man is a social animal.

Our Lady was not merely Mother of Christ, but a Mother to Christ; and it was needful for St Joseph to be a true foster-father to Our Lord, not merely a breadwinner for the Holy Family, but a true father figure, teaching his putative Son how to live as a man by his example.  This is because Christ was true Man as well as true God, and therefore according to His human nature truly and not in similitude learned and grew up through experiential knowledge, as all men do.  Hence "He was subject to them" (St Luke ii, 51).

The Holy Family had gone up to Jerusalem for the feast, as usual — just as we go to Sunday Mass as usual.  But then, consternation!  They looked for Him "everywhere": note the poignant choice of word.  Yet they found Him about His Father's affairs, in His Father's house, and were not able then to quite grasp the situation (St Luke ii, 49-50).  Our Lord's answers more than satisfied the doctors of the Law as He sat with them the Temple; but His answer did not at once explain matters, not to Our Lady, not till she took it to her heart (St Luke ii, 51), turning it over and pondering on it.

Faith is like this — it is not an entire explanation to us, not this side of the Beatific Vision; it is what we lay hold of, "the assurance of things hoped for, the proof of things not seen" (Heb. xi, 1), but what we struggle to understand; difficulties, "doubts" in the improper sense, are a part of our life of faith, in the darkness of our earthbound understanding of matters above: the lack of clarity is because the light is in a sense too strong, rather than not strong enough.  But we must not be discouraged, and rather hold on to our faith.  "It is as a lamp shining in a dark place..." (cf. St James i, 19 - writing of the Scriptures).

(This seems to me somewhat of the gist of the homily.)

The Feast of Gifts

Happily, the celebrant for Mass at Carmel this morning was Fr Kene, whom I was pleased to see arriving drest properly as a priest, with a clerical suit and Roman collar - which is rather unusual a sight in the Archdiocese of Hobart, alas! Since the three Nigerian priests came to help supplement our shortage of clergy here in Tasmania, it is has become obvious how much better-trained they are, as their excellent homilies abundantly prove - quite naturally Fr Kene refers to "Holy Mother Church", not a phrase one hears too often.

It was good to see he was to say Mass for another reason: one of the other priests often comes late for the 7.30 am Mass (poor Father isn't a morning person), and moreover sits in the sanctuary during the readings looking disgruntled, even angry, at having to come serve the liturgy for the nuns and congregation there - how petulant and childish, you'd think he'd take stock of himself and do better, such is really unbecoming a man of the cloth. (In his defence, this other priest can preach very well when he has a mind to, when his prayerfulness comes through.) I must say, having lived on the Mainland, and having got to know many priests and people, church circles here can display can an embarrassingly self-satisfied mediocrity, a sort of insularity and provincialism that one would have hoped Tasmanians would strive to overcome, and I speak as one myself.

But enough bellyaching from me: no doubt I've many a beam to remove from my own eye first, and am certainly no saint, far from it!

In any case, Fr Kene preached a thought-provoking sermon, pointing out that Christmas, now just around the corner, is the feast of giving gifts, on God's part and ours. John iii, 16 (my mother's favourite words of Scripture) says it all: God so loved the world, He gave His only Son, that all who receive Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. Christ brought innumerable gifts, when He came to do His Father's will, offering Himself once for all, emptying Himself, assuming the form of a servant (cf. Philippians ii): but two gifts in particular that He brings are joyful obedience to God's will, and a peace such as the world cannot give.

In like part, the Blessed Virgin, immediately upon conceiving Christ, did not hug herself, but ran to the aid of her kinswoman Elizabeth, bringing not just gifts for the baby, but above all herself, doing God's will by serving her cousin in need, and bringing her the gift of peace - just as her unborn Son, having come into the world to do God's will, then worked the first of His miracles, by baptizing, as it were, the unborn Baptist, sanctifying him still in the womb, granting him peace with God.

So too, we in our several stations ought imitate Christ and His Mother by giving godly and Christian gifts consonant with God's will and imparting true peace at Christmas, above all by emptying ourselves in service to others.

I reflected that I must strive to be a bringer of peace this Christmas - too often I am argumentative and difficult. Mea culpa!

Saint Maravillas

One of the greatest testimonies to the truth that the One True Church of Christ subsists in the Catholic Church under the Pope is the continuing flowering of heroic saints, whether holy martyrs (even in this century, too numerous to mention), priests after the Heart of Our Lord (such as St Josemaria Escriva), laymen living lives of perfection in the world (such as Bl Pier Giorgio Frassati), or devout virgins, such as this day's saint. (Let other denominations consider what proofs by sanctity they may adduce!)

The Carmelites keep to-day (in the modern calendar) the memorial of a new saint (beatified in 1998, canonized in 2003), a worthy successor to St Teresa of Avila, being raised up like her to revivify the Order and found many holy hives of nuns: St Maria Maravillas of Jesus, O.C.D.

This contemplative religious woman, foundress of eleven Carmels, ever active in charity (even from within the cloister, by trust in Providence, able to arrange to be built a whole suburb of homes for the poor!) and sturdy confessor of the Faith (having been imprisoned and threatened by the Communists during the Spanish Civil War, yet by God's inscrutable designs her hopes of martyrdom were not granted) is well-named: for Maravillas is the Spanish for Mirabilia, referring to the marvels and wonders that are the great works God hath wrought - she herself, by her fidelity to grace, became a signal instance of the Mirabilia Dei that we hymn in the psalms.

Born in 1891, entering Carmel in 1920, she died this day, the 11th of December, in 1974, repeating constantly the stirring words, What happiness to die a Carmelite!

May she intercede for our souls, now and at the hour of our death.

******

While to-day I heard a ferial Mass at the Church of the Apostles in town, at our Carmel the following Mass was said:

Entrance Antiphon (Ps 45:15b-16)

She is led to the king with her virgin companions. They are escorted with gladness and joy; they enter the palace of the king.

(Is not heaven upon earth to be found in the cloister of Carmel, the garden enclosed that is the palace of the King, with whom do holy virgins continually dwell?)

Opening Prayer over the Gifts

Lord God, who drew Saint Maria Maravillas of Jesus into the secrets of the heart of your Son, grant through her intercession and example, that we may work together for the salvation of souls, experiencing the delights of your love. Through...

Prayer over the Gifts

Lord, we see the wonder of your love in the life of the virgin Saint Maria Maravillas of Jesus and her witness of Christ. Accept our gifts of praise and make our offering pleasing to you. Grant this through Christ our Lord.

(Her love for her neighbour was the fruition of her amazing love for God, since in all she saw Him, and her works were not fruitless.)

Communion Antiphon (Rev 21:3a-c)

I heard a loud voice speaking from the throne: Here God lives among men, and he shall dwell with them.

(This is the glory of Carmel: that there, upon Carmel's height, dwell chosen souls alone with the Alone.)

Prayer after Communion

Lord God, may this eucharist renew our courage and strength. May we remain close to you, like Saint Maria Maravillas of Jesus, by accepting in our lives a share in the suffering of Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you for ever and ever.

(St Maravillas endured much suffering, whether persecutions or illnesses, and accepted all these and the strictest voluntary poverty as so many sacrifices and holocausts that she could offer up in union with her Lord, for the salvation of souls, as the Apostle teaches.)

******

Here, too, I subjoin the appointed second reading at the Office of Readings for her feast:

From the letters of St. Maravillas of Jesus, Virgin
(Letters to her spiritual directors: 305, 254, 101, 458b)

Yesterday, Sunday, on climbing the stairs to go to the upper choir for the sung Mass, I was quite recollected, yet without any particular thought, when I heard clearly within me, "My delight is to be with the children of men." These words which made a strong impression on me, I understood were not for me this time, but rather in the nature of a request the Lord was making me to offer the whole of myself to give Him these souls He so much desires. It is hard to explain, but I saw clearly, that a soul which sanctifies itself becomes fruitful in attracting souls to God. This so deeply moved me that I offered with my whole heart to the Lord all my sufferings of body and soul for this purpose, despite my poverty. It then seemed to me that this offering was right, but what was strictly important was to surrender myself, wholly and completely to the divine will, so that He could do what He desired in me and likewise I would accept the pain along with the pleasure. I seemed to understand that what pleased Him was not the greatest sacrifice but rather the exact and loving fulfilment in the least detail of that will. In this I understood many things I find hard to explain, and how He wished me to be very sensitive in this fulfilment, which would carry me a long way in self-sacrifice and love.

I offered myself in such a way that nothing would excuse me, not even hell, (if there you can love the Lord), but then I am so cowardly. The Lord will remedy that, since I can do no more than commit myself to Him in all my misery. I began experiencing this as a desire to commit myself for souls and to be faithful for this purpose: thinking about what He had done for them, it seemed He was saying to me I could not do much, but He could, with my help. On feeling this immense desire of the Lord for the salvation of souls, it seemed so amazing that nothing remained but to be committed to God so that He could carry out all His work in the soul and thus make it, despite its poverty, capable of giving Him what He desires. Each time it became clearer to my soul so that nothing of my own remained important, except that the Lord alone be glorified.

What a treasure the Lord has given me in allowing me to live in Carmel! Here, everything is arranged with such simplicity, yet in such a way that, living it to the full, you can do everything. How can we live in the House of the Virgin, pleasing the Lord with her, yet not imitating her, as the Holy Mother desired? I felt that this is the Carmelite's way, imitating Mary, how we must grow less, to be truly poor, self-sacrificing, humble, nothing. I felt quite deeply how Jesus gives us in His own life continual examples of sacrifice, of humiliation, of making ourselves small, yet we do not understand. I felt His mercy and zeal for souls in this way, that here is the strength that can take hold of our life throught His mercy. By His grace, may I, who am so absolutely poor in everything, be well able to imitate Him in this with more ease than other creatures. I seemed also to understand that these lights were not given only for myself, but also for guiding my sisters. The sole thing I do, many times in the day, is to say to the Lord that I wish to live only to love Him and to please Him, that I desire all that He wishes in the way that He wills.

The 19th of November

I arose right early this morning (at 5.30!), to go for a brisk three-quarter hour walk around the Cataract Gorge before Mass and work - what a joyful beautiful morning!

I'd already sung in the shower (!) one of my favourite hymns: "Come down, O Love Divine"...

To my further delight, having had the blessings of Nature, the supernatural mysteries of the 7.30 Mass were celebrated at Carmel by Fr Allan, our local Franciscan priest, who is a good devout celebrant and preacher, and to-day turned out to be a feast of a Carmelite: St Raphael Kalinowski, O.C.D., the first male Discalced Carmelite to be canonized since St John of the Cross himself.

It's been such a long time since I went to a weekday OF Mass, I was surprised that there was no Gloria for this saint's day memorial! Fr made use of the second Preface for Saints, and the third Eucharistic Prayer, which I quite like, liberal that I am.

The Propers were greatly affecting, I thought, especially the Collect and Epistle, in my present frame of mind; unfortunately the translation of the orations is particularly bad, and I cannot find the Latin at present, but no matter:

St Raphael Kalinowski of St Joseph, Priest, O.C.D.

19th November

O.C.D. Memorial

Raphael Kalinowski was born to Polish parents in the city of Vilnius in 1835. Following military service, he was condemned in 1864 to ten years of forced labour in Siberia. In 1877 he became a Carmelite and was ordained a priest in 1882. He contributed greatly to the restoration of the Discalced Carmelites in Poland. His life was distinguished by zeal for Church unity and by his unflagging devotion to his ministry as confessor and spiritual director. He died in Wadowice in 1907.

Entrance Antiphon (St Luke 4:18a)

The spirit of the Lord has been given to me, for he has anointed me. He has sent me to bring the good news to the poor; to proclaim liberty to captives.

Opening Prayer

God, you made your Priest Saint Raphael strong in adversity and filled him with a great love in promoting Church unity. Through his prayers make us strong in faith and in love for one another, that we too may generously work together for the unity of all believers in Christ. (We ask this) through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

1st Reading (Philippians 3:8-14)

A reading from the letter of St Paul to the Philippians

I am racing towards the finishing-point to win the prize of God's heavenly call in Christ Jesus.

I believe nothing can happen that will outweigh the supreme advantage of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For him I have accepted the loss of everything, and I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him. I am no longer trying for perfection by my own efforts, the perfection that comes from the Law, but I want only the perfection that comes through faith in Christ, and is from God and based on faith. All I want is to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and to share his sufferings by reproducing the pattern of his death. That is the way I can hope to take my place in the resurrection of the dead. Not that I have become perfect yet: I have not yet won, but I am still running, trying to capture the prize for which Christ Jesus captured me. I can assure you, my brothers, I am far from thinking that I have already won. All I can say is that I forget the past and I strain ahead for what is still to come; I am racing for the finish, for the prize to which God calls us upwards to receive in Christ Jesus.

Responsorial Psalm (Ps 15: 1-2a, 5. 7-8. 11 R/. cf. v5)

R/. You are my inheritance, O Lord.

Preserve me, God, I take refuge in you.

I say to the Lord: 'You are my God'.

O Lord, it is you who are my portion and cup;

it is you yourself who are my prize. R/.

I will bless the Lord who gives me counsel,

who even at night directs my heart.

I keep the Lord ever in my sight:

since he is at my [right] side I shall stand firm. R/.

You will show me the path of life,

the fullness of joy in your presence,

at your right hand happiness for ever. R/.

Gospel Acclamation (St John 15:15b)

Alleluia, Alleluia.

V/. I call you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have learned from my Father.

Alleluia.

Gospel (St John 15:9-17)

A reading from the holy Gospel according to John

I call you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have learned from my Father.

Jesus said to his disciples:

'As the Father has loved me,

so I have loved you.

Remain in my love.

If you keep my commandments

you will remain in my love,

I have told you this

so that my own joy may be in you

and your joy may be complete.

This is my commandment:

love one another,

as I have loved you.

A man can have no greater love

than to lay down his life for his friends.

You are my friends,

if you do what I command you.

I shall not call you servants any more,

because a servant does not know

his master's business;

I call you friends,

becae I have made known to you

everything I have learnt from my Father.

You did not choose me,

no, I chose you;

and I commissioned you

to go out and to bear fruit,

fruit that will last;

and then the Father will give you

anything you ask him in my name.

What I command you

is to love one another'.

Prayer over the Gifts

God of mercy, we offer you this memory [sic; lege memorial sacrifice] of our salvation, to celebrate the feast of Saint Raphael, your Priest. May it be for all of us, a sign of unity, and strengthen your love within us. (Grant this) through Christ our Lord.

Communion Antiphon (St Matthew 20: 28)

The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.

Prayer after Communion

Lord, our God, may the sacrament we have received strengthen your faithful to be united in their belief. For this Saint Raphael worked untiringly until the moment of death. (We ask this) through Christ our Lord.

Hope not Fear

Θλῖψις, thlipsis - "distress" (hardship, suffering, trouble, being hard-pressed): what a great word, rolling tripping off the tongue... it pops up in the readings at ordinary Mass this Sunday, the penultimate of the Church's Year of grace.

"Deliver us from all anxiety," as the priest prays at the altar!

The world will come to an end, we know not when; but this knowledge, combined with our apprehension of all the stupidities, cruelties, tragedies and violence in this and every age, ought not drive us to despair: for God the Lord holds all of man's broken history in His hand, and - being so powerful as to draw good even out of evil - is silently, secretly directing all things toward their fulfilment in Christ. Of ourselves, we would indeed succumb to despair if we were without faith (as Vatican II in one of its wiser passages affirms); but because as believers we are in Christ, we know that in Him is our only hope, a hope unshakeable - we must not be as the pagans who have no hope, and so wallow in every form of distraction to dull their sense of futility and ineluctable doom. Therefore, we ought live godly, sober and righteous lives, serving God above all and loving our neighbour for His sake, "alert not alarmed", keeping watch and vigil, not in dread but in the joyful expectation of the return of Christ in glory and power almighty.

(Some thoughts based upon Fr Greg's sermon this morning at Carmel.)

******

The music at Carmel was much as it always is: a (rather slow) hymn to start and end with; the Ordinary sung in Gregorian chant (but the Creed said by all); the nuns' singing the Responsorial Psalm, Alleluia verse, and Communion verse to some simple tone (Gelineau?); the Memorial Acclamation (that unfortunate innovation), "Great" Amen and Lord's Prayer sung also, and the rest of the liturgy said.

As is the custom, the chant for the Ordinary was taken from different Masses: the opening Kyrie and Gloria were short and syllabic settings, presumably for ease of singing and to avoid too much delay - as the nuns sing very slowly - while the Sanctus and Agnus Dei were more melismatic, being shorter texts able to be sung out with more complexity:

• Kyrie from Mass XVI (for ferias);
• Gloria from Mass XV (Dominator Deus, for simple feasts);
• Sanctus from Mass IX (Cum jubilo, for feasts of Our Lady);
• Agnus Dei from Mass IX also;
• O sacrum convivium, in a simplified chant setting (I must get a copy!), sung after Communion - it made an excellent spur for meditation on the ineffable benefits of receiving Our Lord.

(These settings of the chants of the Mass I learnt first by ear through attendance at Mass at Carmel - only later, having to sing from a book at a Traditional Latin Mass, did I discover which Masses they came from.)

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Yesterday was the feast of All Saints of Carmel, and to-morrow, All Carmelite Souls (transferred from to-day); next Saturday will be the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lady, and is Pro Orantibus day, when we all should pray for cloistered contemplatives. From the modern Carmelite Missal:

I will bring them to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; for my house is a house of prayer for all the peoples. (Is 56:7a,c)

Lord, may the patronage of the Blessed Virgin Mary, our Mother, and the prayers of all the Saints of Carmel help us to walk steadfastly in their footsteps, and by our prayers and good works ever further the cause of your Church. Through...

Lord, you are the glory of those who serve you. Look lovingly on our departed brothers and sisters, united in following Christ and his Mother by the waters of baptism and the bonds of Carmel. In your mercy grant them everlasting sight of you, their Creator and Redeemer. Through...

A Chance Meeting

Well, I'll be stonkered - I was walking through town this morning, when I spotted a character who looked familiar... and having done a double-take, it did indeed turn out to be that learned peripatetic, Fr Gregory OP! He's been in Launceston all week giving philosophy lectures to the good Carmelite nuns here. To-morrow, then, I'll go back to Carmel for their early Mass, for he is a devout celebrant of the Sacred Mysteries, and a very good preacher.

Happy Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel

Flos Carmeli,

vitis florigera,

splendor cæli,

Virgo puerpera,

singularis.

Mater mitis,

sed viri nescia,

Carmelitis

da privilegia,

stella maris.

A year ago today I was serving Pontifical Mass for the feast of the Blessed Virgin Mary of Mount Carmel, a feast dear to me because of the wonderful life and witness of her spiritual daughters, the Discalced Carmelite Nuns of her Carmel here in Launceston.

Here is Bishop Jarrett's homily for the occasion.

Audience at Carmel

I had the privilege this Corpus Christi morn to speak with Mother Elizabeth of the Trinity, newly-elected Prioress at the Carmel of the Immaculate Heart here in Launceston, and also - a nice surprise - with the immediate past Prioress, Sister Stephanie of Divine Providence, who is one of Mother Prioress's councillors.  It had been too long since last I spoke with the good Carmelites; my first mission was to ask after Sr Paul Joseph, the now frail and deaf but still alert extern sister emeritus: she is well, Deo gratias.

As Sister Stephanie is a New Zealander, I was glad to pass through the turn to Mother some postcards and books of photographs of the South Island to share with the community at recreation.  Sister observed that Dunedin was a dear place to her, as there she received the light of Faith sixty years ago (she had been an Anglican, and a married doctor, but after the death of her husband entered Carmel).  I was glad to report to them my present good fortune, my plans for going to Rome in September, and good news about seminarian friends of mine, and also Br Paul Marie of the Cross, formerly Peter from Bunbury, who has just commenced his noviciate with the Carmelite Monks in Wyoming.  Likewise I praised Fr Rizzo and Fr Clement, the two Latin Mass priests I met in Christchurch, and alluded to the Carmels there and in Lismore, where my old mentor Bp Jarrett now has a monthly Latin Mass: Sister Stephanie agreed that both Carmels are "very solid".

Mother gave me some holy cards produced by the monastery; I quote one of them, itself a quotation of Pope Benedict:

As a spiritual oasis, a monastery reminds today's world of the most important, and indeed, in the end, the only decisive thing: that there is an ultimate reason why life is worth living: GOD and His unfathomable LOVE.

After speaking with them (the bell alerted them to the upcoming Hour of the Office), I asked permission to go pray in their chapel, which was gladly allowed.  I know from past experience that it is very hard, even with the correct Office book, to follow the nun's slow, high, indistinct chant from behind the grille, so instead I settled down to saying a good part of the Breviary by aggregation: Matins, Lauds, Prime and Terce of Corpus Christi.  

It struck me how Dominican the Corpus Christi Office is: all the short responds, all the versicles, all the antiphons at Lauds and the Little Hours (but not at Vespers nor Matins), the Benedictus and Second Vespers Magnificat antiphons end with an alleluia or two - and I know that the Rite of the Friars Preachers has alleluias in the short responsories of great feasts.  Another interesting connexion to Aquinas!

Forty-five minutes later, when leaving via the main doors, I picked up one of last year's souvenirs of the 6oth anniversary of the coming of Carmel to Tasmania: the six foundresses - one of whom, Sister Mary of the Holy Ghost, is still alive and active, bless her (she answered the telephone when I called not too long ago) - arrived from the Adelaide Carmel on the 15th of June 1948, and moved into their first convent, at Longford, on All Saints that year.  As Longford later ceased to be a parish of its own, in the seventies the nuns agreed to relocate to metropolitan Launceston, whence they came on the 8th of April 1975 (Papal enclosure being canonically established on the feast of the Immaculate Heart in the new calendar later that year).  As the pamphlet relates, the four who had finished their earthly course while at Longford were reinterred in the new monastery crypt, and have been joined by seven more in the years since, confidently sleeping in eager expectation of the resurrection, while their souls it may be devoutly believed have gone to Christ.

What a blessing to have such contemplatives, faithful to the Church and to their most high calling, hidden in our midst here in northern Tasmania.  My family and I can attest that their prayers are powerful with the Lord, like those of Elias their Father of old.

Sunday Latin Masses at the Carmel of Lismore

When I was based in Hobart in the nineties, my then P.P., Fr Jarrett, had a monthly Traditional Latin Mass, at which I sang (I also began my serving of the old Mass there too); this is the same one that, mutatis mutandis has continued - despite all the ill-will of the crotchety establishment in this unhappy Archdiocese: I recall someone at St Mary's Cathedral even took time, stupidly, to preach against it, whereupon some Cathedral parishioners decided to desert their angry pastor and come along to the Mass of the ages at Sacred Heart, glad to learn of its existence! - albeit now at the church of St Canice, ever since his departure in 2001 to become Bishop of Lismore in N.S.W.

I learn that the good Bishop, a true pastor (free of the tired seventies liberal straitjacket) has been again helping fulfil the just aspirations of some of his flock: a monthly Traditional Mass has begun at the Carmelite Monastery at Goonellabah (a southern suburb of Lismore), indeed has been held there for some time now, and will become a Missa cantata come Pentecost; already, numbers are up to seventy, with three dedicated servers. (Grafton, seat of the local Anglican bishopric, also has a Latin Mass from time to time with up to a hundred devotees, but a shortage of available dedicated clergy has so far prevented it becoming a regular fixture; like me in Tasmania, some of the Graftonians drive for an hour and more to go to Lismore for the Traditional Mass instead.)

When in Lismore for His Lordship's episcopal consecration, I visited the Carmel, being edified of course by the holy enclosure so strictly observed: they are of one mind and heart with their southern sisters here at the Launceston Carmel, having avoided the slipshod banalities that have seduced even some Carmels (such as that of Adelaide, which observes neither enclosure nor silence, and - surprise, surprise - has no vocations: when will the liberals learn? probably at death!).  They remain firm in adhering to what is tried and true, the primitive charism of St Teresa and St John of the Cross, rejecting the novelties of a transient age.

Since I was there, the sanctuary has been paved with marble, and a fitting predella installed upon which the altar has been raised as is right.  Of course, aside from the monthly Latin Mass, the nuns have daily Mass at 7am, plus a parish Mass on Sundays for the convenience of local residents. I recall the former Bishop of Lismore customarily said the daily Mass there himself, and it seems that the nuns have cultivated similarly good relations with his successor! After all, a convent of cloistered religious, praying and sacrificing for the world in general and priests in particular, is such a powerful supernatural aid in the spiritual warfare that any Bishop would rejoice to have a Carmel intercede with the Divine Majesty for the sanctification of himself, his priests, his seminarians, and all his people.

If you seek for salvation - I am all serious - solicit the prayers of Carmelite nuns.  

Their prayers work.

Three Sermons

Fr Greg, the visiting Dominican at our local Carmel, has continued his masterly sermon series.  I cannot do them justice in extenso, but can summarize the burthen of his words.  

At the Easter Vigil, he impressed upon us what oft we neglect to note in the Gospel account: that the myrrhbearing women at the Tomb were amazed and terrified, not just by the Angel, but by the news of the Resurrection of Christ - for Easter, while joyous, should also amaze and alarm us.  After all, now that One has risen from the dead, our lives take on a totally different meaning: with eternal life now in prospect, we must needs reorder our affairs to take cognizance of this fact, and this will be no simple or painless task (as the lives of the Apostles, Martyrs, and all Christian Saints illustrates).  

On Easter morning, Fr's homily concerned the deepest truth of this Feast of feasts: that the Resurrection signifies the Father's Yes to Christ, His Yes to His Son's trust in Him, and therefore His Yes to all human hopes for deliverance, for life, for salvation.  Having had such an answer, what sure-founded joy is ours!

To-day, commenting on the Novus Ordo Gospel appointed, about the holy women seeing Our Lord, falling down before Him and clasping His sacred Feet, our preacher pointed out what he had once years before told me in pithy form: that the cure for all doubt and fear is worship and prayer.  (As he had put it, and as I ever remember it and repeat to others and pay heed to it, "If you lose your faith, the last thing you do is stop saying your prayers and stop going to Mass" - for that is precisely when you most need to pray and go to Mass!  True.)  

How do we have hope and trust and faith in Jesus Christ, in His salvation, in Him saving even us?  For we can feel unworthy of God's love - "As if that had anything to do with it," Fr commented forcefully: leaving unsaid what we ought ever recall,  that God's love is gratuitous and unmerited!  Or we may feel - in our Pelagian age - that we have no need of His salvation, which our goodness will deserve of itself, thank you very much, God perforce granting it, as too many suppose.  (O wretched deception and presumptuous heresy!  Salvation is unmeritable!)

We strengthen our faith and win against doubt and fear when we come to worship God at Mass, when we pray, when we contemplate Divine things.  The contemplative life is essential for our souls.  (I suspect the nuns well know the force of this: that's why they are in Carmel, for God's love and to save their souls, yea, and by intercession and example to help save men.)

As always, Fr Greg's homilies are deserving of praise, and I do wish he will one day publish them.  In the meanwhile, I will continue to note what I comprehend of them: but be mindful that "everything is received according to the mode of the receiver" - I do note them do with my emphases, in my language, with my editing, comments, revisions and excisions!  Poor Father...

Dominican at Mass of the Lord's Supper

Synchronicity?  Arriving at Carmel to-night for the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper, I was pleased to see that the nuns have had Fr Greg McCormick, O.P., come to celebrate the Paschal Triduum for them.  He is a careful celebrant of the liturgy, and a deep preacher, so it was a happy surprise.

Earlier to-day, my last day of work before the Easter break, I'd read the Day Hours; this evening, having the time, I turned back to read Holy Thursday Matins, which I finished off before and at Mass (one may as well pray howso is profitable during the Offertory and while waiting to take Communion - the nuns receive first, of course, and given where I'd chosen to kneel, I ended up being the very last); and while I drove to and from Carmel, I had playing a CD of to-day's Tenebræ Psalms, Lessons and Responsories by Charpentier, to set the proper mood.

Many words in the liturgy struck me, as did Fr's homily, and above all reception of the Blessed Sacrament.  For Him I desire to lead a good life, for desire of the Sacrament...  As our priest quoted St Augustine putting words on Our Lord's lips, Eat Me ye who desire Me, for you shall not convert Me into you, but you shall be changed into Me.

Fr Greg noted to begin with that Our Lord at the Last Supper was a dead Man - His betrayer was at hand (literally!), He was about to be delivered up and put to torment and death - and it is the usual case in human affairs that those who are about to die withdraw little by little, then more and more, from all their temporal concerns, taking leave of their friends, preparing for that final journey which we must all take, alone.  But with Our Lord it was not so: it was rather his uncomprehending disciples who withdrew from Him, who abandoned Him in His agony.

Christ then washed His Apostles' feet: now, while this was indeed a gesture of service, it is not primarily that - consider that in His time, servants certainly washed feet (those enigmatic parts of the body, not generally sung of in romantic poetry so often concerned with other, more glamorous members of the human person! and yet, how worthy of hymning at a Carmel of discalced, that is unshod, nuns!), but more particularly, a wife would lave her husband's feet, not because she was downtrodden as his slave, but because in marriage they were one body: the apocryphal Jewish Tale of Joseph and Asenath has Asenath, wife of Joseph, make it plain that she and no other shall wash his feet, a gesture of intimacy profound, since "your hands are my hands, your feet my feet" (just so Ron and Nic, a husband and wife I know, have the significant nicknames for each other "Body of Nic" for Ron, and "Body of Ron" for Nic).  Therefore, Our Lord's prophetic gesture, sacramental in the sense that it proclaimed what it effected and effected what it proclaimed, was most of all nuptial in meaning: washing His Apostles' feet, Christ was washing the feet of His Bride, the Church, that she might be unspotted and peerless, made by His Passion redeemed and regenerate to live unto life eternal.  

Our Jesus is described as laying aside His garments, that he might bend down to wash feet soiled by the earth; this phrase "laying aside" (Fr continued) is written of in the original Greek with the same verb used by He Himself in His self-revelatory parable of the Good Shepherd, Who lays down His life for His sheep.  (Truly, He laid aside His glory that He might offer Himself a pure Sacrifice, and so wash away the sins in which our feet have been mired by running evil paths against the guidance of our Shepherd.)  Thus in this act His proximate utter self-sacrifice is revealed, unveiled, laid bare: to love is to serve sacrificially.  

The pedilavium, then, is a proclamation of the mystery of the Eucharist, which is the Sacrament of our Christification, whereby we become one Body in the Lord.  All this is for us the example we must live by, living as Christ lived and died: we must therefore live sacrificially and Eucharistically.

Just before Communion, while praying awaiting to go up to the altar rail (yes, the chapel still has them, Deo gratias), I read the last three lessons of Matins, which are taken from St Paul's first Epistle to the Corinthians, xi, 17-34; while after making my Communion, I first prayed my usual aspirations - Ave in æternum, sanctissima caro Christi, mihi ante omnia et super omnia summa dulcedo!  Ave in æternum, sanctissime sanguis Christi, mihi ante omnia et super omnia summa dulcedo!  Corpus et sanguis Christi custodiant me in vitam æternam!  Refecti Christi corpore et sanguine, te laudamus, Domine!  Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto in sæcula sæculorum.  Amen. - and then read Psalm 33, the favourite Communion Psalm of the early Church.  

In both the Apostle and the Psalm, I found sober thoughts alongside consoling ones: St Paul says "For it is also needful that heresies be, that whoso also are proved, they may be made manifest in you" (I Cor. xi, 19) - how extraordinary, that here proximate to the very account of the Eucharist we have the warrant for all the dogmatic development in the Church, predicated upon the happy fault of heresies arising, that is, of opinions grown monstrous, in the face of the threat of which those who are Catholic are approved and made manifest as precisely those in continuity with the Apostolic Deposit of Faith.  He goes on to point out not only that receiving the Eucharist unworthily is deadly dangerous, he openly tells the Corinthians that such alas is the case, and that therefore many have died and many are sick; similarly, the same Psalm that sings "Taste and see how sweet is the Lord" also fearfully proclaims Mors peccatorum pessima, "The death of sinners is the worst".  Of set purpose the Scriptures parallel the blessings a due to the repentant-therefore-justified with the curses coming to the impenitent sinner.

Could it be that the sufferings and gangrenous state of the Church in our time are due to unworthy Communions?

I was struck, thinking back over my depressing sins - for I must take the beam out of my own eye ere ever I presume to sneer at my brother - by the history of Lazarus: "Lazarus, come forth!" the Lord commanded, and come forth from the putrid stench of the tomb of death he did.  I prayed, "Lord, Thy friend is sick," and heard as it were His comment on appearing to delay in coming to help, heal and save: "This illness is for the glory of God"; that is, whatever of our wretched transgressions, Christ's redemption of us from them all gives great glory to God, vindicating His justice in the most extraordinary manner by not damning utterly, but converting and delivering sinners to become saints that may hymn in and through their own redeemed persons His glorious plan of salvation evermore.