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| Christ is Risen, Alleluia! Alleluia! |
Many apologies for the lack of blogging. I have been away leading retreats and in Lourdes with HCPT. Now I ma back at base for a few days and catching up.
The homily of Pope Francis at the Chrism Mass on Maundy Thursdaty is really beautiful. It certainly gives me foof for thought.
Here is the translation of the homily given on Maundy Thursday by Pope Francis during the Chrism Mass held in St. Peter’s Basilica.
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
This morning I have the joy of celebrating my first
Chrism Mass as the Bishop of Rome. I greet all of you with affection,
especially you, dear priests, who, like myself, today recall the day of your
ordination.
The readings of our Mass speak of God's anointed ones:
the suffering Servant of Isaiah, King David and Jesus our Lord. All three have
this in common: the anointing that they receive is meant in turn to anoint
God's faithful people, whose servants they are; they are anointed for the poor,
for prisoners, for the oppressed A fine image of this being for others can be
found in the Psalm: It is like the precious oil upon the head, running down
upon the beard, on the beard of Aaron, running down upon the collar of his robe
(Ps 133:2). The image of spreading oil, flowing down from the beard of Aaron
upon the collar of his sacred robe, is an image of the priestly anointing
which, through Christ, the Anointed One, reaches the ends of the earth,
represented by the robe.
The sacred robes of the High Priest are rich in
symbolism. One such symbol is that the names of the children of Israel were
engraved on the onyx stones mounted on the shoulder-pieces of the ephod, the
ancestor of our present-day chasuble: six on the stone of the right
shoulder-piece and six on that of the left (cf. Ex 28:6-14). The names of the
twelve tribes of Israel were also engraved on the breastplate (cf. Es 28:21).
This means that the priest celebrates by carrying on his shoulders the people
entrusted to his care and bearing their names written in his heart. When we put
on our simple chasuble, it might well make us feel, upon our shoulders and in
our hearts, the burdens and the faces of our faithful people, our saints and
martyrs of whom there are many in these times
From the beauty of all these liturgical things, which is
not so much about trappings and fine fabrics than about the glory of our God
resplendent in his people, alive and strengthened, we turn to a consideration
of activity, action. The precious oil which anoints the head of Aaron does more
than simply lend fragrance to his person; it overflows down to the edges. The
Lord will say this clearly: his anointing is meant for the poor, prisoners and
the sick, for those who are sorrowing and alone. The ointment is not intended
just to make us fragrant, much less to be kept in a jar, for then it would
become rancid and the heart bitter.
A good priest can be recognized by the way his people are
anointed. This is a clear test. When our people are anointed with the oil of
gladness, it is obvious: for example, when they leave Mass looking as if they
have heard good news. Our people like to hear the Gospel preached with unction,
they like it when the Gospel we preach touches their daily lives, when it runs
down like the oil of Aaron to the edges of reality, when it brings light to
moments of extreme darkness, to the outskirts where people of faith are most
exposed to the onslaught of those who want to tear down their faith. People
thank us because they feel that we have prayed over the realities of their
everyday lives, their troubles, their joys, their burdens and their hopes. And
when they feel that the fragrance of the Anointed One, of Christ, has come to
them through us, they feel encouraged to entrust to us everything they want to
bring before the Lord: Pray for me, Father, because I have this problem, Bless
me, Pray for me these words are the sign that the anointing has flowed down to
the edges of the robe, for it has turned into prayer.
The prayers of the people of God. When we have this
relationship with God and with his people, and grace passes through us, then we
are priests, mediators between God and men. What I want to emphasize is that we
need constantly to stir up God's grace and perceive in every request, even
those requests that are inconvenient and at times purely material or downright
banal but only apparently so the desire of our people to be anointed with
fragrant oil, since they know that we have it. To perceive and to sense, even
as the Lord sensed the hope-filled anguish of the woman suffering from
hemorrhages when she touched the hem of his garment. At that moment, Jesus,
surrounded by people on every side, embodies all the beauty of Aaron vested in
priestly raiment, with the oil running down upon his robes. It is a hidden
beauty, one which shines forth only for those faith-filled eyes of the woman
troubled with an issue of blood. But not even the disciples future priests see
or understand: on the existential outskirts, they see only what is on the
surface: the crowd pressing in on Jesus from all sides (cf. Lk 8:42). The Lord,
on the other hand, feels the power of the divine anointing which runs down to
the edge of his cloak.
We need to go out, then, in order to experience our own
anointing, its power and its redemptive efficacy: to the outskirts where there
is suffering, bloodshed, blindness that longs for sight, and prisoners in
thrall to many evil masters. It is not in soul-searching or constant
introspection that we encounter the Lord: self-help courses can be useful in
life, but to live by going from one course to another, from one method to
another, leads us to become pelagians and to minimize the power of grace, which
comes alive and flourishes to the extent that we, in faith, go out and give
ourselves and the Gospel to others, giving what little ointment we have to
those who have nothing, nothing at all.
A priest who seldom goes out of himself, who anoints
little I won't say not at all because, thank God, our people take our oil from
us anyway misses out on the best of our people, on what can stir the depths of
his priestly heart. Those who do not go out of themselves, instead of being
mediators, gradually become intermediaries, managers. We know the difference:
the intermediary, the manager, has already received his reward, and since he
doesn't put his own skin and his own heart on the line, he never hears a warm,
heartfelt word of thanks. This is precisely the reason why some priests grow
dissatisfied, become sad priests, lose heart and become in some sense collectors
of antiques or novelties instead of being shepherds living with the smell of
the sheep, shepherds in the midst of their flock, fishers of men. True enough,
the so-called crisis of priestly identity threatens us all and adds to the
broader cultural crisis; but if we can resist its onslaught, we will be able to
put out in the name of the Lord and cast our nets. It is not a bad thing that
reality itself forces us to put out into the deep, where what we are by grace
is clearly seen as pure grace, out into the deep of the contemporary world,
where the only thing that counts is unction not function and the nets which
overflow with fish are those cast solely in the name of the One in whom we have
put our trust: Jesus.
Dear lay faithful, be close to your priests with
affection and with your prayers, that they may always be shepherds according to
God's heart.
Dear priests, may God the Father renew in us the Spirit
of holiness with whom we have been anointed. May he renew his Spirit in our
hearts, that this anointing may spread to everyone, even to those outskirts
where our faithful people most look for it and most appreciate it. May our
people sense that we are the Lord's disciples; may they feel that their names
are written upon our priestly vestments and that we seek no other identity; and
may they receive through our words and deeds the oil of gladness whic
