What's really important?

Every now and then we see something, experience something, or as in this case, read something that makes us stop and ask "What's really important?"

I received an email yesterday from a faithful supporter and promoter of this blog, bringing to my attention a tragic but beautiful story of a young man, set to enter religious life with the Franciscans 0f the Immaculate in the fall, whose life ended on June 30th trying to save his father's life. Take the time to read the post at the following links, then take the time to watch the video. You will be glad you did - I certainly am. Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord.

The Passing of a Young Knight.

Laying Our Knights to Rest.

It's been a while...

since I've made a memento mori post.

"Saints be praised, holy bones hit road"

This is the second time I've come across the fact that Passionists are bringing out relics of their Saints for veneration - and for promotion of vocations to their community. Wonderful!

From The Age.com
Carolyn Webb
May 9, 2008

Father Tiernan Doherty is taking relics around the country.
Photo: John Woudstra

He's not a rock star; he's a Catholic priest from the little-known Passionist Order, but like Jimmy Barnes, his aim is to inspire veneration.

In the lead-up to World Youth Day in Sydney on July 15, Father Doherty will chaperone the relics — slivers of bone — of three saints.

They've been sent to Canberra from the Basilica of St John and St Paul in Rome. Yesterday Father Doherty drove them to Melbourne and handed them to Father John Pearce, the Passionists' Australian head, at the Kew office of tour sponsor Le Pine Funerals.

They will "stay" at the Passionists' Holy Cross monastery in Templestowe until the tour of NSW, Victoria and South Australia next month.

All three of the saints were Italian. Like rock stars, they all died young.

Gabriel Possenti was 23 when he died of tuberculosis in 1862 while studying to be a Passionist priest. He was adopted long after his death by the US gun lobby, which claims his firearm skills saved a village from marauders in 1860.

But Father Pearce, of St Paul Apostle in Endeavour Hills, says this is a fable. He had been a hunter, but guns were common in Italian villages to shoot pigs.

Maria Goretti died horribly — in 1902, age 11, she was attacked by an intruder who tried to rape her, and then stabbed her to death when she said she'd rather die than submit.

St Gemma Galgani died aged 25 in 1903. She had suffered meningitis, cared for her seven siblings when their parents died, and developed stigmata-like gashes in her hands, feet and heart. She died of tuberculosis.

The itinerary for the metre-long closed reliquary includes a service on June 10 St Paul Apostle in Endeavour Hills; a 7pm mass at St Bernadette's in Sunshine; a sitting at the Holy Cross Monastery, Templestowe, on June 14, and St Brendan's in Shepparton on June 25 and 26.

Happy New Year!

Dear Priests: Please wear black vestments this All Souls day.

Shawn Tribe wrote the blog post below, over at New Liturgical Movement. I can't seem to link to just that post, so I've copied it here and link to their blog.

But I have to say something before you read his very well written piece. I couldn't agree more. In fact my standing request, it's even in my will, is that I would like the priest celebrating my Requiem Mass to wear black vestments. The chausable below would be outstanding, but a simple black fiddleback would be great. Memento mori. It's coming for us all. Repent and believe. And it won't hurt vocations either, real men like black, and this would more than make up for that other liturgical color worn in advent. Seriously what red blooded America boy wouldn't like this chausable?

A Modest Proposal to Modern Rite Parish Priests: Use Black Vestments this All Souls Day

By Shawn Tribe

originally posted on New Liturgical Movement (NLM)

It has been a tradition on the NLM these past couple of years to make a post around or on All Souls Day, making a case for the wider reclamation of black vestments in the modern Roman rite for funerals and All Souls Day.

This year, it has been on my mind earlier than usual and I felt it would be a good time to put it out there in the hopes of encouraging our reform of the reform priests (I specify them because in the classical use, it is still the prescribed colour of course) to use black this coming All Souls -- let alone for funerals. Perhaps the extra time will allow people to (kindly) approach their pastors to ask if they might consider it, or for our priestly readers to dig out those black vestments in the backs of their sacristy closets and prepare them for use.

We all know the reality of the past few decades. Black vestments have often been excluded, to the point that there are entire generations who will have never seen a black vestment worn in the course of the liturgy. This is a shame because I would propose that the use of black as a liturgical colour is representative of some fundamental Christian realities.

While Christians are indeed a people of hope who believe in the resurrection of the dead (an oft cited argument for those wishing to exclude black, as though it, so much a part of our tradition, were somehow inappropriate or misguided) this in no way can be understood as being inimical to the use of black as a liturgical colour. Moreover, while we are a people of hope, we are also called to be a people aware of the reality of sin, death and judgement. Our salvation, and that of our loved one's, while we hope for it, is not a foregone conclusion and pretending it is so does no good for anyone. Rather, we are, as St. Paul says, working out our salvation; we are not guaranteed it.

Neglecting to face these realities and presuming the heavenly bliss of the faithful departed is a presumption that is rather lacking in charity in point of fact -- like presuming a sick family member is not so sick as to need care and tending and therefore going merrily along our way without regard for them or their current state.

This presumption has another side effect for us: it potentially causes us to neglect the state of our own soul, for if we neglect the reality of sin and judgement by presuming salvation for the dead -- not facing any other reality or possibility, including the possibility of purgatory -- why should we think any differently for ourselves or strive to live more a life of greater holiness and with more perfect contrition and penance?

Witnessing the somber, reserved, even mournful tone of black vestments on All Souls or at funerals is a powerful reminder to us not only of the prayers we should offer for our dead (and the efficacy of those prayers -- Masses for the Dead in particular are not merely placebos of psychological comfort for the living, but have real supernatural merit in relation to genuine supernatural realities), but of our own need for repentance and conversion, in a way that purple, the colour of penance (but not mourning and death), and white, the colour of joy and celebration, perhaps cannot as readily communicate on both a theological and cultural level. (In a sense, this issue reminds me of that of versus populum and the prudential considerations we must bring to it. In that case, it is not as though a Mass offered versus populum is utterly and absolutely inimical to a proper disposition on the part of the priest and faithful as regards God and the liturgy; but it is an awful lot more difficult to maintain in that situation and it is more fraught with potential mixed messages. On the positive side, ad orientem communicates quite effectively the nature and fundamental purpose of the sacred liturgy while clearly avoiding any horizontalization. Similarly, I would propose that white or purple are also not utterly inimical, but they too may likewise not speak the message as well or as easily, and that message could further be misunderstood. By contrast, black can bear the burden of that message more readily for a variety of reasons. In both of these cases, they have the added benefit of being consonant with our tradition as well.)

The use of black as a liturgical colour in these events represents a kind of holy and prudent reserve. This reserve is not negative but is in fact spiritually healthy for the living, beneficial for the "suffering souls" (even though they are assured their heavenly bliss) and spiritually realistic given original sin and personal sin.

Beyond this, black, with its association with mourning and somberness also acknowledges our own emotional response to the loss of a loved one and the sorrow of the death and toil that entered into the world with original sin. There is nothing wrong with this acknowledgement and mourning is a natural thing that even Christ himself did for his loved ones.

Culturally, black is still associated as a colour for mourning; while fashions and rules of etiquette may have indeed loosened, the powerful association is still there. We also associate black with night and sleep, both of which are metaphors for sin, the dead and for death itself. As a symbol then, it yet speaks strongly -- and a pertinent message at that.

There is, of course, also the argument from our tradition. Black has been used as a liturgical colour for sometime. When it was specifically introduced is not known so far as I can tell, but we do know there was a reference to the liturgical colour of black at least as early as the 1100's or 1200's -- which means that its use is no doubt older even than that:

"Benedict XIV (De Sacro Sacrificio Missæ I, VIII, n. 16) says that up to the fourth century white was the only liturgical colour in use. Other colours were introduced soon afterwards. Innocent III (d. 1216) is among the first to emphasize a distinction. He mentions four principal colours, white, red, green, black (De Sac. Alt. Mys., I, lxv)" (Source http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/04134a.htm)

About the symbolic meaning of black, the same article says that "black [is] the universal emblem of mourning [and] signifies the sorrow of death and the sombreness of the tomb."

In this regard then, black seems a strong choice from the aspect of our tradition, from the aspect of cultural vocabulary and association, and for theological reasons as pertain to death, judgement, sin and purgatory.

The final issue that might arise is the pastoral issue. However, having heard from various priests who have implemented the use of black, I have yet to hear of any traumatic response to the use of black on the part of the ordinary faithful. Indeed, there will be a few individuals who will oppose it for ideological reasons, but that cannot be helped and becomes a teaching moment. For most, the matter will be received neutrally or as a point of genuine curiousity and become a moment when parish priests will be able to teach about and emphasize these sacred realities.

I therefore invite and encourage our priests who use the modern Roman liturgy to consider using black vestments this All Souls Day in particular, and for funeral liturgies as well. This too is a part of the reform of the reform.

[Priests: if you intend to use, or are considering using, black in the modern Roman liturgy this coming All Souls Day -- or for funerals -- I invite you to please share this with us in the comments of this post that others too might be encouraged.]

" A New Spouse of Christ"

Fr. Phillips has a beautiful post entitled "A New Spouse of Christ" on his blog, AtonementOnline, about a former parishioner of his that professed her solemn vows with the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration in Hanceville, Alabama.

As I've posted before, I'm a big believer in "momento mori" - as in no matter how famous, wealthy, and powerful you get - death comes for you. So it should come as no surprise that I thought this part of his post was particularly beautiful:

"Sr. Elizabeth lay prostrate behind the grate, covered by the funeral pall and surrounded by her Sisters holding wax tapers. The Litany was chanted and the pall was sprinkled with holy water, after which I spoke words over her, which included these: “…cover with the shield of Your protection this Your servant whom You deigned to select from the entire number of the Flock, as a Good Shepherd, to preserve the crown of perpetual virginity and chastity of soul, and to prepare her for every work of virtue and glory with the aid of Wisdom, so that, overcoming all enticements of the world, she may merit the indissoluble union with Your son, Our Lord Jesus Christ…”

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Unfortunately, there were no photographs of Sr. Elizabeth under the pall, but a quick image search produced these photos from Conception Abbey in Missouri of monks under the funeral pall...

Photo by Karen Ceckowski

Ultimate Vocations Slogan?

Memento Mori

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My favorite part of the Capuchin Crypt in Rome was a note that went something like this:

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"What you are, we once were.

What we are, you will become."

Capuchin Crypt "Bone Church" in Rome

My apoligies. It's been one of those days. Sometimes the relativism of our day is a bit much. That and perhaps I've seen one too many hip, pandering vocations ads. Nothing like the bones of 4,ooo of your friar predecessors to let you know what your vocation is all about, and what awaits you at the end of your days. If this isn't a humbling and startling visual wake up call, in regards to storing up your treasure on earth, I don't know what is.

Something tells me these guys didn't sign on because of a trendy marketing campaign. It also doesn't look like they were experiencing much of a vocations crisis.

This reminds me of a story I read about the Trappists (Voices of Silence by Frank Bianco). A journalist visiting the monastery Notre Dame de Melleray in France, asked the Abbot about the cemetery and why there were so few grave markers considering their lengthy history. He wondered where the rest of the monks were buried. This is the author's exchange with the Abbot...

"Oh, yes," he said, smiling. "Yes, I see. Missing. No, all our monks are there. No one is missing." It would not do, he explained, to have the cemetery growing endlessly. If a monk died, they would open up the oldest grave, gather any bones that remained, put them in a cardboard box, and position the box beneath the head of the monk who was to be buried.

"So the dead monk becomes his brother's pillow," I suggested.


"Pillow?" Dom Jacques asked, reaching for his dictionary. "Pillow, pillow," he repeated, holding the unknown word in mind as he searched for its French translation. "Ah, yes. Oreiller - pillow. that's right," he said, grinning at the growth of his vocabulary. "Pillow. When I die, my brother who never knew me, will be my...," he glanced back at the dictionary, "pillow, and eventually, we will both be the... pillow...for a monk neither of us ever knew."

But although monastery archives fixed the resting place of all the monks who had been buried, he added only the name of the last-buried monk would be listed on the cross that marked their graves [keep in mind the name on the marker was their religious name, their birth name was long gone-B.W.]. Given the goal of the monk's existence, he said, even that degree of record was superfluous.

"After all, it's only necessary that we be known and remembered by God."

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Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.

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