Lent 2020

Yesterday, after a session of Jesus Play with my grandchildren, 5 year-old Zeke spontaneously took the bread (a piece of modeling clay) from one of the stories on display in my dining room and put it in the chalice, and then inserted the baby Jesus from the Christmas story. I'd say that Zeke, whether he knows it or not,  has a pretty good grasp of the Eucharist (this is all about 2" high). A blessed Lent to you. 

March 25 - Lent, Day 41 - Jesus, Our Passover Lamb

Film scan from 2001. Flat Point Farm, West Tisbury, Massachusetts.

I participated in many Passover seders over the past twelve years, and at each one, when the leader elevated and broke the middle matzah (unleavened bread) and declared, "This is the bread of our affliction," I was always immediately transported back to the Sacrifice of the Mass where the priest elevates the Bread of Life (also unleavened) and declares, before breaking it, "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world."

As I write today, the eve of Passover, I do think of my Jewish friends who will be entering one of their holiest weeks this evening at sundown. From either direction, I've always loved the fact that Easter and Passover are so closely tied together - seasonally, as well as ritually - creating kind of a double-holy week.

The question for today: How can I deepen my understanding and experience of the Eucharist?

One thing that helped me deepen my understanding of the Eucharist was reading Brant Pitre's Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist (foreward by Scott Hahn), in which he ties many of the ancient temple practices and Jewish scripture to the Last Supper and makes an excellent case for the Eucharist being exactly what Jesus says it is in John 6: his real flesh and his real blood.

However, one cannot understand the Eucharist from one book or from one Holy Communion; rather, it must be experienced over time and incorporated into the context of one's life on a regular basis, I believe.

When I partook of my first Eucharist in twelve years, back in June, I went, quite honestly, not knowing what I believed any more. I knew that I once quite fervently believed it was the Real Presence of our risen Lord, but after so many years of being away from the church and not praying to Jesus, I had no idea what to believe, and I didn't particularly care. All I knew was that I needed to be home.

Interestingly, the effect of that first communion was immediate and profound. There was no doubt that what I experienced was real. I have missed few Masses since that day, and I know that my life, my soul, my faith has profoundly changed for the better, all within the context of prayer, daily Mass, hearing God's word, partaking of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Dear Lord, I pray to continue to grow in my understanding of your Real Presence in my life.

March 11 - Lent, Day 27 - A Privilege and a Responsibility

Stained glass panel from St. Augustine's, Vineyard Haven, a church of Good Shepherd Parish of Martha's Vineyard.

Do I see Mass as a weekly duty, or as a privilege I want to enjoy as often as possible?

I attend Mass almost every day during the week, and at least once - depending on whether I am leading the songs or not - during the weekend. I consider attending Mass both a duty and a privilege. There are plenty of mornings I don't want to leave my house but I make myself because I know how much attending Mass feeds me - the words and the Eucharist - and serves as armor against the insanity and chaos of the world. After not attending Mass for twelve years, it is a joy and an honor to do so once again.

Dear God, help me to never forget how much I love attending Mass and partaking in your sacraments.

Daily Bread

I love attending daily Mass and can't wait to get there on Monday through Thursday mornings, but I also love having Fridays and Saturdays free, morning being my most productive and creative time of the day. Having no reason to leave home two days a week allows me to get into a delicious groove of creativity. I could attend the Saturday afternoon vigil Mass, I suppose, so I'd only be missing one day a week, but I've decided I rather like having two full days off (besides which, the vigil Mass is simply an earlier version of the Sunday Mass). This break allows me an extended, uninterrupted stretch of time - a sabbatical, if you will - in which to accomplish a few things - or even nothing, if I so desire - and then, by Sunday afternoon, I am truly hungry again for the Eucharist and can't wait to get to 5:00 Mass (okay, by Sunday afternoon it's almost three days off). And I rather like that hungry feeling, a feeling that translates into the experience of wanting and eagerly anticipating God (as compared with being constantly satiated and possibly becoming complacent).

The above photo is of a sand dollar - one of many that my mother brought home from Siesta Key beaches during the years she lived there during the late 1970s/early 1980s. I've kept this one on my mantle, prominently displayed, for years. This large version - I also have several fifty-cent-piece-sized versions - has come to remind me of the large wafer that the priest elevates and consecrates during the Liturgy of the Eucharist at Mass. On some level, even during the years I was away from the Church, I lived with this visual, albeit subliminal, reminder of the Eucharist. Of course, during my non-Christian years, it was just a shell; a fond memory of my mother and an innocent connection to my past.

Coincidentally - or not - the sand dollar is replete with Christian symbolism. Rather than explaining it in my own words (as I have, hundreds of times, because I find it fascinating - and the part about the star inside breaking into five tiny white doves is absolutely true, and amazing), I'll let this little poem tell the story (author unknown):

The Legend of the Sand Dollar

There’s a lovely little legend
That I would like to tell,
Of the birth and death of Jesus
Found in this lowly shell.

If you examine closely
You’ll see that you find here,
Four nail holes and a fifth one
Made by a Roman’s spear.

On one side the Easter Lily,
Its center is the star,
That appeared unto the shepherds
And led them from afar.

The Christmas Poinsettia
Etched on the other side,
Reminds us of His birthday
Our happy Christmastide.

Now break the center open
And here you will release,
The five white doves awaiting
To spread Good Will and Peace.

This simple little symbol
Christ left for you and me,
To help us spread His Gospel
Through all Eternity