With the coronavirus, this year’s Holy Week will be strange and different.
We will not be gathering in churches in large numbers. We will not receive the Eucharist. We will not be joining family and friends for Easter.
We all feel the vulnerability and struggle of this painful moment, wondering what the future holds for us, especially the elderly, ill, and unemployed.
But even in a normal year, Holy Week is the strangest thing.
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Needless to say, this global pandemic is unprecedented in our history, especially in terms of its impact on our daily lives. The consequences of our essential shutdown as a nation are far reaching and disturbing.
We are all praying for the victims worldwide — those who have died, those who are ill and suffering the effects of this corona virus. We pray for health care workers, first responders, and government leaders who must feel overwhelmed. I pray for our elderly and vulnerable populations, including the poor and the homeless. I pray for those who have lost income already and are economically struggling. We think of families who have their children home all the time. All of this equates to tremendous stress, anxiety, suffering, and fear.
In the face of all of this, God is inviting us to a deeper, radical trust in Him. In some ways, with our normal routines disrupted and many of our securities stripped away, we are faced with a profound existential moment — do I truly believe in God and confide my life to His mercy or not?
Our whole life of faith and practice of our religion has prepared us for this trial. Now is the time for us to truly let our faith in the Lord shine forth for others to see and draw strength from our witness. In some ways, with the suspension of public Masses, this time reminds me of the Babylonian captivity in the Old Testament. |
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Throughout the Gospels, Jesus steadfastly reiterates a central theme of his mission: He has come to earth to do the will of His heavenly Father.
His long nights of intimate prayer, the extended days of ministering to the crowds, His fasts and feasts, His tears and laughter all express Jesus’ fundamental desire to fulfill what the Father has asked of Him. This radical obedience to the Divine Will culminates in the events of Holy Week.
One of my favorite poems is the “Hound of Heaven” by Francis Thompson, in which the poet experiences God as a hugely powerful dog who resolutely chases him down the pathways of his life.
Despite every attempt to escape, hide, or elude the mighty hound, Thompson cannot do so, ultimately surrendering to being caught, only to find that this creature, which he mightily feared, is actually his very salvation.
The poet speaks profoundly of his own difficult experience. Thompson was born in London in 1859, entered medical school at the behest of his father, but eventually dropped out of his studies and left home.
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| Fr. Brian Wilk, pastor of St. Bernard Parish in Middleton, distributes ashes to a parishioner during an Ash Wednesday Mass last year. (Catholic Herald photo/Kevin Wondrash) |
Every Lent, the whole Church goes on a retreat together with Jesus in the desert for 40 days. Through increased attention to prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, we grow in virtue and holiness, more attentive to the grace and love of the Lord, more dynamic in the practice of our faith, more spiritually ready to celebrate the great Paschal Mystery, the death and resurrection of Christ.
The etymology of “religion” is “relationship,” so we deepen the relationships in our lives this Lent. Through prayer, we grow in our experience and attention to the Lord; through almsgiving, we serve and love others by sharing our time and treasure, especially with the needy and suffering; through fasting, we empty ourselves out, so the Lord can more truly reign on the throne of our hearts.
More Jesus. Less me. If I am especially faithful to fasting, there will literally be less of me, come Easter!
In a sense, Lent is more about subtraction than it is addition. By removing the noisy demands of my selfishness and the distracting clutter of my heart, God has greater freedom and capacity to live, move, and act within me.
This path of self-emptying is imitative of Jesus, who followed a trajectory of remarkable humility, in order to reach, heal, forgive, love, and save us. Jesus Christ was laser-focused on doing the will of the Father, radically directing every aspect of His life and personality to His mission.
Acedia is an uncommon word that defines a common experience. Its Latin and Greek antecedents mean “negligence” and “lack of care.”
The definition is “a state of listlessness or torpor, of not caring or not being concerned with one’s position or condition in the world. (Acedia) can lead to a state of being unable to perform one’s duties in life. Its spiritual overtones make it related to, but distinct from depression.”
Linked to boredom, lukewarmness, and apathy, acedia can particularly overwhelm us in our spiritual practice and pastoral ministry.
“Are you saved?” is a classic evangelical question which we have probably all been asked once or twice. Those posing the query usually view salvation as a specific event, the precise moment when they gave their lives to Jesus and experienced his forgiveness.
A gentleman told me once that he was saved at a Billy Graham crusade in 1978, which for him was a powerful spiritual transformation. As Catholics, we may fumble for an articulate answer to the question of salvation, which is a sign perhaps that our understanding of this central reality of faith is more nuanced.
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| Bishop Donald J. Hying blesses a mosaic of Blessed Frederic Ozanam at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington on January 26. (CNS photo/Tyler Orsburn) |
Last week, I was honored to celebrate Mass in the National Basilica of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C., and to bless a newly-installed mosaic of Blessed Frederic Ozanam, the founder of the Saint Vincent de Paul Society, on the occasion of the 175th anniversary of the Society’s presence in the United States.
I have been involved with the Vincentians for 20 years as a chaplain, serving for the last two years on the national level. In preparing my homily for the Mass, I dug deeper into the life and legacy of Frederic Ozanam, realizing with greater clarity his inestimable contribution to Catholic thought and the wisdom of the Church in addressing the social issues of the day.
As a visionary founder of the Saint Vincent de Paul Society, Frederic has helped millions of Catholics to live the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy in a practical and generous manner. He was a journalist, scholar, professor, social activist, husband, and father. He taught literature, history, and law, deeply engaged in the intellectual problems and social challenges of his day. Ozanam has much to say to our present age.
Frederic was born in Milan in 1813, going to Paris to study law, where he suffered a deep loneliness but also was befriended by André Ampère, a scientist exploring the wonders of electricity, in whose home Ozanam became a boarder.
Simultaneously a sophisticated scientist and a devout Catholic, Ampère showed his young charge that there was no inherent dichotomy between Christianity and science or between Catholicism and the social ills of workers and the poor.We celebrate Catholic Schools Week in this last week of January with special Masses, fun activities, and service events in all of our schools.
This week lifts up the invaluable contribution of Catholic education to the lives of our young people and children, as they are formed to know Jesus, love Him, and serve Him as Catholic disciples of the Gospel.
I profoundly thank Dr. Michael Lancaster and everyone in our diocesan Schools Office, our principals, teachers, staff, students, and parents for the dedication, generosity, leadership, and service they offer to help our schools flourish and our children to realize their full potential as beloved children of God.
This week, we once again commemorate the sad anniversary of Roe v. Wade, the Supreme Court decision in 1973 which legalized abortion throughout our country.
Since then, millions and millions of human lives have been legally snuffed out in the very beginning of their existence without the chance of making their contribution to the world or knowing the wonder of our human experience.
Last year globally, 41 million abortions occurred. These numbers are staggering when we compare them to any other human tragedy which destroys lives.
