PRAYER FOR POPE FRANCIS

PRAYER FOR POPE FRANCIS

 Lord, we are the millions of believers, humbly kneeling at Thy feet and begging Thee to preserve, defend and save the Sovereign Pontiff for many years. He is the Father of the great fellowship of souls and our Father as well. On this day, as on every other day, he is praying for us also, and is offering unto Thee with holy fervor the sacred Victim of love and peace.

Wherefore, O Lord, turn Thyself toward us with eyes of pity; for we are now, as it were, forgetful of ourselves, and are praying above all for him. Do Thou unite our prayers with his and receive them into the bosom of Thine infinite mercy, as a sweet savor of active and fruitful charity, whereby the children are united in the Church to their Father. All that he asks of Thee this day, we too ask it of Thee in unison with him.

Whether he weeps or rejoices, whether he hopes or offers himself as a victim of charity for his people, we desire to be united with him; nay more, we desire that the cry of our hearts should be made one with his. Of Thy great mercy grant, O Lord, that not one of us may be far from his mind and his heart in the hour that he prays and offers unto Thee the Sacrifice of Thy blessed Son. At the moment when our venerable High Priest, holding in His hands the very Body of Jesus Christ, shall say to the people over the Chalice of benediction these words: "The peace of the Lord be with you always," grant, O Lord, that Thy sweet peace may come down upon our hearts and upon all the nations with new and manifest power. Amen.

 

INAUGURAL MASS HOMILY POPE FRANCIS

INAUGURAL MASS HOMILY

 

No one was quite sure what to expect from Pope Francis's inaugural Mass. As archbishop of Buenos Aires, Jorge Mario Cardinal Bergoglio had, to put it mildly, refrained from displays of pomp and circumstance in his liturgies, as in his personal life. The Vatican had alreadyannounced a number of changes from inaugural Masses of the past, the chief among them being that today's Mass would be that of the Solemnity of Saint Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary, rather than a specific Mass for the Inauguration of a Roman Pontiff. And in his first few days as pope, Francis has shown a penchant for going off-text, which could have led to some interesting lines in his homily.

In the end, though, the inaugural Mass was exactly what we should have expected it to be: simple, dignified, and beautiful.

My wife and I tuned in at 3 A.M. CDT, just in time to see Pope Francis entering Saint Peter's Square, not in the Popemobile but standing up in the back of a Jeep. The crowd, estimated at over one million people, was enthusiastic, and I suddenly sensed what has been lost since the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II on May 13, 1981. The desire to keep the pope safe has led to Popemobiles with ever-thicker bulletproof glass, surrounded by Vatican security; to see Pope Francis standing entirely in the open, with minimal security around him, brought not only a sense of joy but of hope.

John Paul II and Benedict XVI, I am sure, were not afraid of martyrdom, but for whatever reason they had not resisted the perfectly understandable increase in security. Pope Francis, one might say, is willing to take his life into his own hands—or rather, to place his life in the hands of Christ and the saints, and perhaps especially in the hands of Saint Joseph, whose role as protector of the universal Church was the central theme of the Holy Father's homily.

In his homily, Pope Francis did not go off-text, and so it lacked, perhaps, a bit of the charm that we have come in less than a week to expect from this pope; yet it built not only on the readings for the Mass but on the themes of journeying, building, and professing that have come already to mark this pontificate. Joseph was a carpenter, a builder, and he built a life to protect Mary and Jesus; and he did so "Discreetly, humbly and silently, but with an unfailing presence and utter fidelity, even when he finds it hard to understand." Listening to that line near the beginning of the homily, and especially the last clause, I was struck by the sense that the Holy Father was applying it to himself: "even when he finds it hard to understand." Whatever gifts the Holy Spirit might bestow on the successor of Saint Peter clearly do not include omniscience; yet humility, discretion, silence, and faithfulness can make up for that lack. And those are virtues that we, too, can learn from Saint Joseph, as "In him, dear friends, we learn how to respond to God’s call, readily and willingly, but we also see the core of the Christian vocation, which is Christ!"

And it was Christ Who shone forth in the inaugural Mass today. There were so many little touches—always simple, always dignified, always beautiful—that reminded those of us who were there in body or in spirit what this Mass really meant. And what this Mass really means: because the inaugural Mass held in Saint Peter's Square held in every Catholic church in the world today, and every day.

Elements of the ceremony that had caused confusion when they were announced became clear when they were practiced. The Gospel was chanted in Greek, "as," the Vatican declared yesterday, "at the highest solemnities, to show that the universal Church is made up of the great traditions of the East and the West." Yet it was more than that: The Greek Catholic deacon came to the Holy Father to receive his blessing before proclaiming the Gospel, as is the practice in the Roman rite, but then the Gospel was also introduced as it is in the Eastern Divine Liturgy, with a second blessing and the words "Wisdom! Let us be attentive!" As at the Sign of Peace, when the Orthodox Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I was brought to the altar so that Pope Francis could embrace him, this was a poignant sign of the underlying unity of the Church, East and West, and yet also of all that keeps the two lungs of the Church from full communion.

The gifts of bread and wine were not offered by laymen, as had been the custom under the previous two popes; rather, they were brought to the altar by the deacons, which had been the practice in the Roman rite from the beginning. Pope Francis, we had been told, would not distribute Communion, and yet he did. But he distributed Communion to the deacons, rather than to the lay faithful—a return, again, to a traditional practice that has fallen to the wayside. And he gave Communion through intinction, dipping the Host into the Precious Blood, which required those receiving Communion to do so on the tongue, while kneeling.

Meanwhile, 500 priests made their way through Saint Peter's Square to distribute Communion to the faithful, each priest under a white umbrella to protect the Eucharist and to signal its presence—another return to tradition that has been practiced infrequently, at best, in papal public Masses over the last 35 years. The music was solemn and dignified, a mixture of Gregorian chant and classical compositions befitting the occasion. The pallium Pope Francis received as a symbol of his authority as bishop of Rome was the one most recently used by Pope Benedict XVI, and the crozier was (I believe) once again that of Pope Pius IX, which the Holy Father had used at the Mass that closed the papal conclave last Thursday.

For those who remember the inaugural Masses of previous pontiffs, today's Mass certainly felt simpler—and yet it had the same dignity and beauty. And at its core was the Cross of Christ, in the center of the altar, and the Eucharist, consecrated on that altar. And both remind us of the point of the papacy, and the source of its power, as Pope Francis declared in his homily:

Today, together with the feast of Saint Joseph, we are celebrating the beginning of the ministry of the new Bishop of Rome, the Successor of Peter, which also involves a certain power. Certainly, Jesus Christ conferred power upon Peter, but what sort of power was it? Jesus’ three questions to Peter about love are followed by three commands: feed my lambs, feed my sheep. Let us never forget that authentic power is service, and that the Pope too, when exercising power, must enter ever more fully into that service which has its radiant culmination on the Cross. He must be inspired by the lowly, concrete and faithful service which marked Saint Joseph and, like him, he must open his arms to protect all of God’s people and embrace with tender affection the whole of humanity, especially the poorest, the weakest, the least important, those whom Matthew lists in the final judgment on love: the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and those in prison (cf. Mt 25:31-46). Only those who serve with love are able to protect!

May God bless Pope Francis, as he serves the People of God with love—and teaches us to do the same. And may God grant him many happy years, as he faithfully preaches the Word of His Truth!

 

FIRST HOMILY OF POPE FRANCIS

FIRST HOMILY OF POPE FRANCIS

(Church of Santa Anna)

Introduction:

On the afternoon of March 14, 2013, in the Sistine Chapel, Pope Francis celebrated the Missa Pro Ecclesiae (the Mass for the Church), which brought to an end the conclave that hadelected Jorge Mario Cardinal Bergoglio as the 266th pope of the Catholic Church. In the course of the Mass, the Holy Father offered his first homily as pope—a homily notable for, among other things, being entirely unscripted.

In his homily, Pope Francis makes reference to the three readings from the Mass. The first reading, Isaiah 2:2-5, speaks of a future in which all the nations of the earth will approach the mountain of the Lord and, joined together in worship of the true God, will "turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into sickles." The second reading, 1 Peter 2:4-9, sets out the image of Christ as the cornerstone, and yet a stumbling block to those who do not believe, and the Church of the faithful as "called out of darkness" to be "a chosen generation, a kingly priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people." The Gospel, Matthew 16:13-19, recounts Peter's declaration of faith and Christ's assurance that the gates of Hell would not prevail against the Church He would build upon the rock of Peter.

Pope Francis, an Argentinean whose parents were first-generation immigrants from Italy, speaks fluent Italian and delivered the homily in Italian. The English translation below is the official text provided by the Vatican.

The Text of Pope Francis's First Homily:

In these three readings, I see a common element: that of movement. In the first reading, it is the movement of a journey; in the second reading, the movement of building the Church; in the third, in the Gospel, the movement involved in professing the faith. Journeying, building, professing.

Journeying. "O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord" (Is 2:5). This is the first thing that God said to Abraham: Walk in my presence and live blamelessly. Journeying: our life is a journey, and when we stop moving, things go wrong. Always journeying, in the presence of the Lord, in the light of the Lord, seeking to live with the blamelessness that God asked of Abraham in his promise.

Building. Building the Church. We speak of stones: stones are solid; but living stones, stones anointed by the Holy Spirit. Building the Church, the Bride of Christ, on the cornerstone that is the Lord himself. This is another kind of movement in our lives: building.

Thirdly, professing. We can walk as much as we want, we can build many things, but if we do not profess Jesus Christ, things go wrong. We may become a charitable NGO, but not the Church, the Bride of the Lord. When we are not walking, we stop moving. When we are not building on the stones, what happens? The same thing that happens to children on the beach when they build sandcastles: everything is swept away, there is no solidity. When we do not profess Jesus Christ, the saying of Léon Bloy comes to mind: "Anyone who does not pray to the Lord prays to the devil." When we do not profess Jesus Christ, we profess the worldliness of the devil, a demonic worldliness.

Journeying, building, professing. But things are not so straightforward, because in journeying, building, professing, there can sometimes be jolts, movements that are not properly part of the journey: movements that pull us back.

This Gospel continues with a situation of a particular kind. The same Peter who professed Jesus Christ, now says to him: You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. I will follow you, but let us not speak of the Cross. That has nothing to do with it. I will follow you on other terms, but without the Cross. When we journey without the Cross, when we build without the Cross, when we profess Christ without the Cross, we are not disciples of the Lord, we are worldly: we may be bishops, priests, cardinals, popes, but not disciples of the Lord.

My wish is that all of us, after these days of grace, will have the courage, yes, the courage, to walk in the presence of the Lord, with the Lord’s Cross; to build the Church on the Lord’s blood which was poured out on the Cross; and to profess the one glory: Christ crucified. And in this way, the Church will go forward.

My prayer for all of us is that the Holy Spirit, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, our Mother, will grant us this grace: to walk, to build, to profess Jesus Christ crucified. Amen.

DO YOU LOVE ME

Do you love me?

 Visualise the vast expanse of the Lake of Gennazareth. The night fell gently on the tranquil water. Peter pushed the boat out onto the lake, rowed out, and cast the net – and then realized that he was doing this not because he wanted to fish but because he wanted Jesus. One day he had encountered the Master while casting his nets, he had encountered him in accepting to row back onto the lake; he had encountered him on this same boat doing the things he was doing now. He now realized that he could do nothing, experience nothing without desiring that Jesus be present with him, in their midst.

With tears in his eyes, with a voice like that of a child who is about to break out sobbing, Simon said so loudly that he almost scared himself, “Lord, you know everything, you know that I love you!”

And once again, once and for all, before he had even finished answering, Peter saw with certainty that Jesus believed in his love, that he had believed in this from the first answer, that he had always believed it, since their first encounter on this same shore. Only now, only at this moment, after living with him for three years, after seeing him suffer and after he had died following Peter’s denial and desertion, only now was Peter discovering that Jesus needed his love, that Jesus, the Son of God who had conquered death, was thirsty for his love.

What is love? Love is the effective desire for the good of the other. The key word is “effective”. Love must effect something good and beneficial or it is not love at all, at best an empty wish. The one who loves will do something for the beloved, something really good. But what good could Peter do for Jesus who is already infinitely good and wants for nothing?

“Feed me sheep, feed my lambs.” That is the good Jesus desires of Peter. “I thirst”, cried Jesus on the cross. Peter would slake that thirst by feeding the flock of Jesus, and he would do it unto death.

 “Feed my sheep.” Jesus repeated, and Peter understood that this task was connected to the question that the Lord had asked him. Peter had only one mission left in life: that of loving Jesus Christ, of responding to his thirst for love; responding to this as the sinner that he was, as miserable as he was. It was as if Jesus was telling him, “You can deny me a thousand times, you can deny me your whole life, but never forget to love me, never deprive me of your love.”

What kind of a Saviour is this that thirsts for our love? And what answer does each one us gives to that very searchingly personal question: “Do you love me?” Can you answer: “Jesus, I love you? You know that I love you. But if I can’t say that with full honesty I can certainly say, “Jesus, I really want to love you; please help me to.”  But if I cannot even say that, I can at least say, “Jesus, there’s one thing I know with full certainty, I know that you love me. Give me faith to believe in your love for me and teach me to cope with your immense, unimaginable love.”  

St. John Mary Vianney’s Prayer of Love

I love you, O my God. My only desire is to love you. Until the last breath of my life. I love you, O infinitely lovable God, and I prefer to die loving you rather than to live for an instant without you. I love you, O my God, and I desire to go to heaven only in order to have the joy of loving you perfectly. I love you, O my God, and my fear to go to hell is only because one will not have the sweet solace of loving you there. O my God, if my tongue cannot say it at all times that I love you, I want my heart to repeat it to you with every breath. I beg you that as I come closer to my final end, you will increase and perfect my love for you. Amen.

 

 

DIVINE MERCY SUNDAY

DIVINE MERCY SUNDAY

Acts 5:12-16
Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24
Revelation 1:9-11a, 12-13, 17-19
John 20:19-31

The world was never the same after the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead. As a consequence, the readings for the Sundays following Easter, all the way to Pentecost, deal with earth shattering events. St. Luke wrote not only his Gospel, but a second volume called the Acts of the Apostles that covers nearly seventy years of history. The first reading today is taken from that book. It describes a scene in the temple of spectacular healings. No, it's not Jesus who is the central figure, but the power of the Holy Spirit now present in Jesus' apostles. They are continuing God's mercy and compassion toward the sick and the crippled and the lame. Since Jesus had died on the cross not just for some, but for all people, His followers show no discrimination in healing both rich and poor, Jews and strangers to Jerusalem.

Today's second reading is from the great "dream book" of John, the Book of Revelation. We learn that it is God Himself through the Angel who told John to write down these great scenes of future judgment and the glory that will come to Jesus and to those who are faithful to the Lamb. John writes from his exile along with many other Christians, exiled by the Emperor Domitian, to the Isle of Patmos. Today we think of countless Christians, driven from Moslem countries at a loss of possessions, employment, and homeland. Present day persecution for the faith is severe. Governments that could help are sadly so indifferent.

Why is this Sunday called Divine Mercy Sunday? Because Pope John Paul II saw in the visions of a Polish saint, Blessed Faustina, a message Jesus Christ wished the world to focus on more--His Divine Mercy. His Mercy is powerfully shown in today's Gospel as the newly-risen Savior appears to those who had betrayed Him, those who in weakness had run far away from the soldiers and from the mock trials---and from their Master in His three-hour agony and death. As Jesus came through those locked doors where they had huddled in fear of arrest, He did not upbraid or condemn them, but said with loving compassion, "Peace be with you." He forgave them for their weakness, their cowardice, and their sinfulness. He continued to heal them of their doubts and their fears. Second, He did not fire them from their ministry, but commissioned them to preach His Name to the ends of the earth. He restored His trust in them, and loved them even more. He would eventually send His Spirit to strengthen them with His Divine Power.

As Jesus showed His Divine Mercy to His apostles on this Sunday, the Church urges us to show our gratitude and belief in His never-failing forgiveness for our sins and betrayals of His love. He urges us to pray often for a world that has abandoned His commandments, ignored His words, shunned His healing, and rejected His love.

- Msgr. Paul Whitmore |

EASTERING FAITH

EASTERING FAITH

                   One who is not young or willing to be young at heart will never understand Easter. Think of the spice laden svelte Mary Magdalene hastening to her lord’s tomb, or imagine the “beloved disciple” sprinting over boulders and outrunning Peter as the latter was double-timing cross-country to reach the empty tomb. The marks of youthful agility!  Easter is the festival of eternal youth, of rejuvenation (from the Latin “juventus” meaning “youth”), of freshness of breath and lightsomeness of body. All these qualities are realised in Jesus, the risen lord and life-giver; so fresh and full, radiating happiness as he takes his mother gently into his embrace, and she caresses his face and hair blowing softly in the morning breeze of that first Easter day. That living picture is realised anew for every mother and child as they meet in heaven after a life where tears were plentiful and the final moments painful. When the last tear has been wiped away and death banished forever, the fresh innocence of childhood will be restored for keeps.

          This is our resurrection faith. We are an eastering people, eastering through struggle and pain, life and death, till God takes final and complete possession of us. We believe that it is already happening each time we celebrate the mysteries of Jesus and allow the Holy Eucharist to expand into our daily lives, with their hard choices and inevitable accidents. Indeed, Christian conduct is a eucharistic conduct. We only need believe that the paschal mystery of Jesus’ death and resurrection is operating in our lives and that every teardrop is weighted with the lightsomeness of resurrection glory. Mysteriously, pain and dying have been transmuted into transmitters of life.

  

          This is faith, indeed. Faith means acceptance; acceptance of someone’s words, for instance, and behind the words, the person we accept. Faith also means that other people can accept our words and us. It leaves us vulnerable - open to the possibility of betrayal. Yet, without faith it is impossible to live. At the deepest level we put our faith in life itself. We believe that since life is fundamentally good, our faith discovers goodness at the heart of things.

For, in spite of our disappointments, we go on believing. It is a basic commitment to life, to revival, to the sheer insistence on going on. It is a basic belief that the gnawing hungers, the piercing yearning within us shall be satisfied. Every man and woman can build on this gut level faith, since it is affirmed and reinforced by the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Christ’s resurrection is our own recurring resurrection.

          The resurrection of Jesus can tell us something when life gets us down. Jesus was tortured and killed by cruel men, but raised to life by a loving God. The resurrection tells us that when the worst happens the best happens as well. It tells us that our basic belief in life is quite right and that our deepest instinct is pushing us in the right direction, into the ever-open future; not a pie in the sky but eternal life now. That is what all the simplicity and subtlety of the Christian creed is about. We don’t just recite it; we surrender ourselves to it.

                                                         My life is like a faded leaf,

My harvest dwindled to a husk;

Truly my life is void and brief

And tedious is the barren dusk;

My life is like a frozen thing;

No bud or greenness can I see.

Yet rise it shall - the sap of Spring,

O Jesus, rise in me.

Christina Rossetti (1830 – 1894)