Sunday Meditation: “But who do you say that I am?”

Jesus had finished his ministry in Galilee and now heads toward Jerusalem.  Still in the north, they stop on the way to Caesarea Philippi, a region which is associated with Roman Imperial power, and Jewish accommodation to Roman rule.  Ruler of Caesarea Philippi at the time was the son of King Herod the Great, Philip the Tetrarch.  So I think it is important to note that Jesus asks who people say He is here against the secular power and authority.

 

Jesus and his disciples set out

for the villages of Caesarea Philippi.

Along the way he asked his disciples,

"Who do people say that I am?"

They said in reply,

"John the Baptist, others Elijah,

still others one of the prophets."

And he asked them,

"But who do you say that I am?"

Peter said to him in reply,

"You are the Christ."

Then he warned them not to tell anyone about him.

 

He began to teach them

that the Son of Man must suffer greatly

and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes,

and be killed, and rise after three days.

He spoke this openly.

Then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him.

At this he turned around and, looking at his disciples,

rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan.

You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do."

 

He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them,

"Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself,

take up his cross, and follow me.

For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it,

but whoever loses his life for my sake

and that of the gospel will save it."

~Mk 8:27-35

I’ve been searching for new people to provide insight into the Gospel passages, and this homily by Fr. Stephen Koeth, C.S.C. I thought insightful and very passionate.  Fr. Stephan belongs to the Congregation of the Holy Cross, and he really explains the connection to the cross that is alluded to in the Gospel passage.  Here is Fr. Stephan’s homily.

I think we should also interpret this passage in light of yesterday’s feast day, The Exultation of the Holy Cross.  

Sunday Meditation: “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself”

How appropriate is this song, “Take Up Your Cross” by John Michael Talbot. 

 

 

 

Faith Filled Friday: The Way of the Cross over the Brooklyn Bridge

Today, arguably the holiest day of the year, as my custom now for the last five years, I participated in the annual Way of the Cross over the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s a sort of mini Stations of the Cross procession, we only do five stations, but the distanced walked is about two and three quarter miles.  It starts in Brooklyn at the St. James Cathedral-Basilica, and then the pilgrimage ensues by crossing over the Brooklyn Bridge, stops at Manhattan’s City Hall, stops at the World Trade Center, and concludes at lower Manhattan’s St. Peter’s Church.  It’s organized by local chapter of the Communion and Liberation Movement, which is a Catholic religious organization of religious and lay members.  Fr. Richard Veras seems to be the primary coordinator, though I don’t know if that is his role.  Fr. Veras was the pastor at my parish, St. Rita’s on Staten Island, for a number of years but has moved on.  He has published a number of books and is a monthly contributor to Magnificat magazine.

The form of the events has not changed in the five years.  I detailed them in my 2014 entry, which you can read here.    

I didn’t take a lot of pictures this year.  It was overcast.  But here’s one picture of the procession ahead of me on the Brooklyn Bridge. 

You can see how far long pilgrimage of people ahead of me, and I was toward the front.  The local news lists us in the hundreds, but it seems more to my non-expert eye.

I was able to film one of the pieces sung by the wonderful—and I do mean wonderful with no exaggeration—Communion and Liberation choir.  At the St. James Cathedral, they sing “Go to Dark Gethsemane.”  Let me preface, for some reason my camera just would not focus on the choir.  The video is blurred but I did capture the singing.

We passed a little garden as you come off the Brooklyn Bridge on the Manhattan side and the tulips were in bloom. 

And of course we passed the new Liberty Tower at the World Trade Center.  I don’t know what that weird sculpture is out in front, but who understands modern art?

Finally we made the news.  Here’s a video clip.

I hope you had a blessed Good Friday.  

Faith Filled Friday: The Twelfth Station

For Good Friday I was going to post some pictures and video of my annual procession of the Way of the Cross over the Brooklyn Bridge, but the batteries in my camera crapped out just after I turned the camera on.  This was the 23^rd year of the March, and that surprised me.  I didn’t realize it went back that far.  I think this was my fifth year attending.  I blogged about the first time in 2014, here.   

Since I didn’t get pictures t post, I’m going to provide one last Caryll Houselander way of the cross station.  What could be more fitting for today, than the twelfth station.

Christ Dies on the Cross

To His enemies this seems to be the hour of their triumph and Christ’s defeat, but in fact it is the supreme hour of His triumph. Now when He seems to be more helpless than He has ever been before, He is in fact more powerful. When He seems to be more limited, more restricted, His love is boundless, His reach across the world to the hearts of men in all ages is infinite.

But to those who look on, how different what appears to be happening seems to what is really happening. How certain it seems that Christ has been overcome, that His plan of love for the world has failed utterly, that He Himself is a failure, His “kingdom” a pitiful delusion.

Can this be the same Christ who only three short years ago went up into another mountain and spoke to the multitudes, filling the heart of each individually with secret joy and hope?—teaching the poor their own glory, revealing the secret of his personal beatitude to each one who suffered, to each who was downtrodden or unjustly treated, showing them each the reality of the poetry of life, the inwardness of the kingdom which was already theirs if they could receive it with simplicity and the values of unspoilt children?

Did he not tell them, and did they not believe, that their very poverty clothed them, not in drab, worn garments, but in those that, seen by the true vision, are richer than Solomon’s robes, lovelier than the iridescent lilies growing in the fields of Palestine?

Did he not convince them that if their hearts were pure, the kingdom of heaven was already theirs—and he himself, who strewed the wild flowers under their feet and gave them the morning star, their king?

But now on this other mountainside how different everything seems to be. What hope is there now for them? Their king is poorer than any of them. He is stripped of all that he has; his crown is a ridiculous crown of thorns; he has nothing left of his own, not even a grave to receive his dead body. Far from being clothed in splendour that rivals the glory of Solomon, or beauty that rivals the wild flowers, his own natural beauty is hidden under wounds and bruises.

“He has no comeliness whereby men shall know him.”

He has never seemed so helpless as He seems now, not even as a little infant in Bethlehem.

The hands that could raise the dead to life with a touch, could heal the sick and give sight to the blind, are nailed to the hard wood: unforgettable, stiffening in death. The feet that blessed the delicate grass by their touch, that walked on the swiftly moving waves of the storm at sea, are fastened down to the rough trunk and held still. The eyes that could see into the depths of the soul are darkening with the blindness of death. The tongue that spoke the words of eternal love is swollen with thirst, and stiffened in death. The heart of the man who is love is turning to a small, hard stone that a man could hold in his hand!

More bitter than all His other suffering is the desolation of His soul, His own unutterable loneliness, the sense of being wholly unsupported by any love, emptied out, forsaken even by God: “. . . and at the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?’ which means, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’” (Mark xv. 34).

He seemed to be quite alone, quite defeated, dying a useless death at the end of a useless life, the tragic life of a poor deluded dreamer who, because of his fondest delusion that his love for the world could save it, had come to a still more tragic death, to die alone, an object only of scorn or pity—not even hated now, since now he is powerless—beaten. Men hate only when they fear.

“The passers-by blasphemed against him, tossing their heads. ‘Come now,’ they said, ‘thou who wouldst destroy the temple and build it up in three days, rescue thyself; come down from that cross, if thou art the Son of God.’”

But Christ would not come down from the cross—“I, if I be lifted up,” He said, “will draw all men to me.” Now He had done just that, He had drawn all men to Him because He was dying all of their deaths for them; He was giving Himself to them in death, so that in their turn they would die His death, with His courage, His love, His power to redeem.

From that moment when He bowed His head, crying out: “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit” and died, everyone indwelt by Him to the end of time would die His death, with His power to heal and strengthen and redeem themselves and other men by their dying.

He came to the tremendous mystery of His death alone, He felt forsaken even by God; but from that moment until the end of time, no Christian man or woman or child will die alone. Each one will die Christ’s death, their hands in His hands, their feet folded upon His feet, the last beat of their hearts the beat of His heart; and because He has made their deaths His own, theirs too will have the power of His to save themselves and those whom they love.

Houselander, Caryll. The Way of the Cross (pp. 79-82). Angelico Press. Kindle Edition.

Let me leave you with this glorious hymn that is so fitting for today, “What Wondrous Love is This.”

WE ADORE YOU, O CHRIST, AND WE PRAISE YOU, BECAUSE BY YOUR HOLY CROSS YOU HAVE REDEEMED THE WORLD.

Faith Filled Friday: Holy Thursday Feet Washing and Good Friday Procession

I never got to mention last week’s Easter Triduum events.  I had the honor of being asked to be one of the twelve that had their feet washed at the Holy Thursday Mass.   At least I think it was an honor.  Given that Pope Francis the last few years has been picking criminals to wash their feet I hope the new pastor at our church who picked me doesn’t think I’m a crook…lol.  Seriously, it was a huge honor.  Actually there was an interesting mix of people: six men and six women, some old and young, and couple of people who were converting at the Easter Vigil.  The pastor only washed our right feet.  My wife has long made fun of my toes (they tend to curl up—don’t laugh—I know reader you’re laughing!) so I was a little self-conscious.  Someone suggested I get a pedicure, but no I couldn’t stoop to that.  I wouldn’t even know where to get one.  I did make sure my toe nails were clean, especially underneath.  Unfortunately there were no pictures, but I’ll leave you with a painting from an unknown artist.  I assume it goes back to the Middle Ages.

On Good Friday I went on the Way of the Cross procession as I did last year.  You can read about last year’s procession and see pictures at the photo essay I posted.  It was essentially the same thing.  I did get to see Fr. Richard Veras, who organizes it, again.  He was the pastor at my parish who to my displeasure was transfer from our parish last June.  I blogged about it last year here.    

Here are a few additional pictures from this year’s procession.

Here’s the absolutely wonderful Communion and Liberation choir that sang at each station.  Here at the St. James Cathedral-Basilica in Downtown Brooklyn.

Here on top of the Brooklyn Bridge.  It was a drizzly day.

The choir at the final stop, St. Peter’s Church in Lower Manhattan.  

You can see the contrast in church alter styles from the previous church.  And finally Fr, Veras giving a homily. 

Fr, Veras gave the very best homilies I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing.  I so miss them.

Photo Essay: Way of the Cross 2014 - UPDATED

I mentioned yesterday I was participating in the Way of the Cross GoodFriday procession in New York City.  You can find links on yesterday’s post to what The Way of the Cross entails.  Well, I participated and here is a little photo essay of the procession.

One correction from yesterday’s post.  There weren’t fourteen stops on the procession reflecting the fourteen stations of the cross.  That was an assumption on my part that turned out to be wrong.  There were five stops where we came to a halt and read a Gospel reading (from the Passion chapters of St. John’s Gospel), read a meditation from the writings of Luigi Giussani (the event was sponsored by the local Communion and Liberation movement), listened to a mini homily by Fr. Richard Veras (my pastor at St. Rita’s who I mentioned here ), and sang hymns.  The five stations were (1) at St. James Cathedral in Brooklyn, (2) at the Brooklyn Bridge, (3) at City Hall in Manhattan, (4) at Ground Zero where 9-11 World Trade Center tragedy occurred, and (5) at St. Peter’s Church in Lower Manhattan. 

This is inside the St. James Cathedral where the Communion and Liberation Choir were magnificent. 

 

And then onto the Brooklyn streets. 

 

 

The highlight for me was the procession over the Brooklyn Bridge.  I had never walked over before.  I took lots of wonderful pictures which I'll have to reserve for another photo essay.  The tall building on the left with the antenna is the new Liberty Tower that replaced the Twin Towers that collapsed.

 

 

You can see the hundreds of people in front of me, and I would say there were even more behind me.  There must have been a thousand people that participated.  At the head of the procession was a man carrying a wooden cross, but within the crowd there was a man carrying a statue of a black Jesus carrying his cross. 

 

At New York City Hall. 

 

 

At Ground Zero.  We weren’t actually at Ground Zero since the construction has closed it off, but about a block away.  I didn’t get a good picture but I have this.

 

And finally at St. Peter’s.  It looks a lot prettier on the inside than the outside. 

 

 

It was a great experience.  The only difficulty was getting to a bathroom.  The bus left in the morning at 8:30 and the last station was at about 1:30 PM.  Thank God St. Peter’s had a bathroom for us to use, even though the line was very long.

 

UPDATE (April, 19, 2014 @ 9:19 AM):

New York Post reports this morning that over 3000 participated in the procession.   Whoo hoo!  That’s a better turn out than I imagined.

 

Faith Filled Friday: Good Friday way of the Cross

Today is the reason I reserved Fridays as the day to post a faith related subject.  Since a child I’ve stood in awe of this day, even when my faith wasn’t very strong or not at all.  There is something about this day that I walk quieter, with a gentler step, not wanting to disturb the ground, the air, the earth.  The very universe stands still today. 

Today I will participate in a procession from Brooklyn into Manhattan on what is called The Way of the Cross.  It will be a two and a half mile hike from the St. James Cathedral in Brooklyn over the Brooklyn Bridge and completing the pilgrimage in St. Peter’s Church in lower Manhattan.  We will be praying the Stations of the Cross, an identified site for each of the fourteen stations.  You can read about it here.  It’s an annual event—this will be my first time participating—and you can read a news clip of a past procession here.  

I post today in commemoration one of the most famous crucifixions in all of art, the centerpiece from Matthias Grunewald’s Isenheim Altarpiece.  Here is the entire centerpiece.

 

 

Here are two details of Christ, the upper body, and then His face.

 

 

 

 

We adore You, O Christ, and we bless You, because by your holy cross You have redeemed the world.