Beginning and Return

Fifth Sunday after Easter

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  For whatever reason, certain phrases sound more elegant and intelligent in foreign languages.  Instead of saying, “this for that,” it sounds much better to say quid pro quo.  Or instead of saying, “exactly,” one can say per se.  If you said, “a certain something that I can’t describe,” people would understand you, but you could also throw in a little French and say je ne sais quoi.  Perhaps, due to the popularity of mafia movies, we find ourselves used to asking in poorly-pronounced Italian, capisci? when we might otherwise say, “Get it?” 
    Likewise, when we speak about the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, we use a phrase from St. Thomas Aquinas which is exitus-reditus.  That certainly sounds much more erudite than beginning-return.  But no matter how we say it, we recognize its veracity.  Christ came to us from the Father (in the Incarnation at the Annunciation which we celebrated on 25 March) and then returned to the Father (at the Ascension, which we will celebrate on Thursday).  Christ existed before all time, but the Father sent Him to us, and then Christ returned to the Father.  The Lord tells the Apostles in John, chapter 14 that He goes to prepare a place for them, “‘so that where I am you also may be.’” And our Gospel also points to this coming and going, as Christ speaks to His Apostles in the Upper Room at the Last Supper.  He tells them that He has come from the Father and into the world, and is now leaving the world and returning to the Father.   
    But exitus-reditus doesn’t only apply to God the Son.  It also applies to us.  We, too, though not consubstantial with the Father, come from Him, and our goal is to return to Him.  Even with all our advances in science, the gift of new life still comes from the Father.  And once our parents conceive us, our goal, our end, is to return to the Father so as to be one with Him in heaven.  It’s back to the Baltimore Catechism answer that says it so poetically and succinctly: God made me to know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him in this life so to be with Him in the next.  

    So this middle time, the time between our exitus, our beginning, and our reditus, our return, determines how our return ends up.  To paraphrase Denethor from the movie version of The Return of the King, our experience at our return will depend on the manner of our return.  Because, as Christ affirmed in the Gospel of John, He is the only way to the Father.  We cannot return to the place the Father has prepared for us, unless we follow the pattern that the Father set out for us, made visible in Christ.  We are, as St. Peter affirmed in his first epistle, “‘a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people of his own,’” but our lives have to reflect that chosen status in order to receive the inheritance promised to us at our beginning.
    So do we recognize how to live like Christ in our day-to-day lives?  Do we give attention to the needs of others, rather than focusing only on ourselves.  We’re familiar with Catholic Charities, the North End Soup Kitchen, the St. Luke NEW Life Center.  Do we assist them?  Do we donate what we can, be it food, clothing, or other goods?  Sometimes I get new “secular” clothes.  When I do so, I try to make sure and donate older clothes that are in a similar style or that I know I don’t use that often, if they are in reasonably good condition, to Catholic Charities through the Hope in a Box box that is by the drinking fountain at the Beach Street doors.  When was the last time that you looked in your closet for clothes that you no longer wear?  Sometimes we have formal wear that we only use once or twice, but are there things that we never use, or don’t need to have, that others could?  St. Basil the Great once said in a sermon, “The bread in your cupboard belongs to the hungry; the coat unused in your closet belongs to the one who needs it; the shoes rotting in your closet belong to the one who has no shoes; the money which you hoard up belongs to the poor.”  Our attention to those in need makes up part of the way that we show where we want to return to: heaven or hell.  
    Whether we use the fancy Latin phrase or not, we all came from the Father and will return to judgment by Him, when we will learn our eternal destination: heaven (likely after some time in Purgatory) or hell.  If we wish to return to the dwelling place the Father has prepared for us, that Christ promised us in the Gospel, then we have to follow the example of the great exitus-reditus of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity.  We have to follow the Way that He is: the one who gave up His life for our good.  It may not be in the red martyrdom of shedding our blood in imitation of Christ’s perfect sacrifice of His Body and Blood, but it may be in the white martyrdom of dying to our own wills and living according to the will of the Father.  No matter in which language we say it, living the life of Christ in our day-to-day lives will help us embrace the inheritance Christ won for us, whom the Father has adopted through Holy Baptism as His adopted sons and daughters in the Son of God, Jesus Christ.  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Watching for Jesus to Return Together

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

So, ad orientem.  You’ve noticed that there have been no differences thus far.  But as I wrote in my bulletin, we’re only doing this for this weekend.  Still, the differences you’ll see are only during the Eucharistic Prayer.  But why ad orientem?  Is this simply another crazy Fr. Anthony idea?  Is it old stuff for the sake of old stuff?

For probably at least 1800 years, the Church celebrated Mass this way, and as my bulletin article says, there are hints that it’s still pre-supposed, as one of the instructions on the Mass will say, “”The Priest, turned towards the people…”.  But we celebrated Mass this way for a reason.  And that reason coincides with what we celebrate today: the Ascension of the Lord.  The Apostles, the Blessed Mother, and the disciples see Jesus ascend into heaven.  The site of Jesus’ Ascension is on a hill to the east (ad orientem) of Jerusalem.  And ever since then, we’ve been waiting for him to return.  This year, we celebrate 1,986 years of waiting for Jesus to return as He promised.  The orientation (which comes from a word that means east-facing) of the Church since Jesus left was looking for his return.  Honestly, that’s hard to do, especially after 1,986 years.  Nowadays, we get frustrated in the ten seconds it takes Siri to give us an answer.  We can forget that our Lord is coming back, “‘in the same way as you have seen him going to heaven,’” as the angel said in our first reading.

So our Mass has always reminded us that we’re waiting on Jesus.  Scott Hahn, a noted Biblical scholar and writer, speaks about how Tertullian, who lived form 160-220, already writes about Christians (and at that time there was really only one type of Christians, Catholics) facing east during our worship.  St. Clement of Alexandria, St. Basil the Great, and St. Augustine also all speak of this practice.  One of the early house churches in Syria, dating from 233, is arranged so that priest and people faced east, with an altar against the east wall.  St. John of Damascus in the 7th century also speaks of this practice.  

Scripture itself talks about the importance of the east.  In addition to our first reading, we can also look to Malachi, who prophesies Christ as the “Sun of Righteousness” (and the sun rises in the east); to Zechariah in the Gospel according to Luke who refers to Jesus as “‘the dawn from on high’” (and dawn comes from the east); and Jesus’ own words in the Gospel according to Matthew, who says, “‘For just as lightning comes from the east and is seen as far as the west, so will the coming of the Son of Man be.’”  

But all of these things point to the face that we’re waiting for Jesus to return from the sanctuary not made with hands, heaven itself, and restore not only Israel, but the new Israel, the Church.  And the way that we face reminds us in our worship of God to be ready for His return, to be like the wise virgins who are ready, or like the homeowner prepared at all times so that he is not robbed.  That’s why we’re doing this, for this weekend only.  

And there is something very unifying about this.  When I celebrate Mass facing you (as is common and allowed), it can seem like it’s a performance of sorts for you.  Your eyes probably naturally focus on me.  But if you notice, in order to highlight that we’re waiting for the Lord, I almost never look at you during the Eucharistic Prayer, unless I’m speaking to you.  I look towards the heaven, to God, whom I’m addressing most of the time during that holiest part of the Mass.  The common orientation can easily become a me versus you scenario.  When Mass is celebrated ad orientem, we are all united, facing the same direction, facing our Lord in the tabernacle and waiting for his return.  Yes, I’m still at the head of the assembly, leading us all to Jesus, but I’m also a part of you, not disconnected.

The common response is that my back is turned towards you.  But Pope Benedict XVI aptly wrote in his book The Spirit of the Liturgy, “The common turning toward the east was not ‘a celebration toward the wall’…it did not mean that the priest ‘had his back to the people’….  For just as the congregation in the synagogue looked together toward Jerusalem, so in the Christian liturgy the congregation looked together ‘toward the Lord’…They did not close themselves into a circle; they did not gaze at one another; but as the pilgrim People of God they set off for the Oriens, for the Christ who comes to meet us.”  Again, it all goes back to waiting for Jesus to return, to keeping our eyes fixed on him, to reminding us to be ready for the Second Coming.  

And this even remains uninterrupted in both Catholic and some Jewish cemeteries.  There is a large Jewish cemetery to the east of Jerusalem on the hill that leads up to the place of the Ascension.  It’s packed full, and it’s the prime cemetery, because the Jews also believe that the Messiah will come from the east of Jerusalem, and they want to be the first to greet him when he comes (of course, we know that He has already come, and will come again).  And in our own New Calvary Catholic Cemetery, and in every Catholic cemetery I’ve visited, when people are buried, they are facing the east, so that they can be ready to greet Jesus, the Dawn who comes from on high.  

But, as I mentioned, I have no plan to extend this practice here beyond this weekend.  And it’s not about turning back the clock, or about doing something traditional, and certainly not about turning my back on my people.  No, it’s about facing the Lord, being focused on him, and being ready for his return.