The Body of Christ... The Blood of Christ

Yesterday, Frances and I went to our Cathedral for the annual Chrism Mass.  We attend this Mass every year because we bring back the holy oils to our parish.

This Mass is heavily attended by Catholics from near and far; and even though we arrive an hour early, we still end up having to sit in folding chairs in the rear of the church along with all the other people who had arrived when we did.  Actually, we are fortunate to find seats together.

At Communion time, four priests come to the rear of the church, two on each side, to distribute the Body and Blood of Christ to us folks who are seated there.  Despite having to move around the folding chairs and a large holy water font, everything goes quite smoothly.

"The Body of Christ"...  "The Blood of Christ"...  words said many times as we process toward the priests to receive and then return to our seats.  As I reached my chair and sat down, I closed my eyes and tried to be silent inside so I could hear the Lord speak; but "The Body of Christ"...  "The Blood of Christ"... continued to echo into the quietness of my mind...

I think about all the people who were receiving this great Gift...  They were receiving what I had just received...  They were hearing again and again those same words that Frances and I were listening to now.  Whether rich or poor, whether Black or Hispanic or Asian or Caucasian, whether priest or deacon or bishop or lay person, it didn't matter.  What was important, was that we become what we eat...  WE are to be Christ's Body and Blood in this world and in this time.  We are the ones the Lord works through as we live our lives as best we can according to His Will.

Lord, give us the grace and strength we need to follow You.  To love and serve You. To continue to receive You into our hearts and souls and minds forever...   With joy......      

Lord, help me to hold out! ~ A Reflection on the Second Sunday of Lent

Our parish Lenten theme this year are the words taken from a gospel song that we sing: "Lord, help me to hold out!" Each Sunday after Communion, a member of the Liturgy Committee will give a short reflection on the Gospel for this week and how our theme connects with the Gospel. This week's Gospel tells the story of the Transfiguration, Matthew 17:1-9. I was selected to give this reflection for the Second Sunday of Lent.

- - - - - - - - -


Lord, help me to hold out...
Until my change comes!

In today's Gospel, we learn that Peter, James and John were chosen to witness a profound change as Jesus was transfigured before them. There on the mountain, His glory, which is the glory of God, was revealed to them.

"Lord, it is good that we are here," they said.

The apostles recognized that something wonderful was happening and they wanted to capture those moments and to hold on to them forever. They responded in such a human way as they planned to set up tents for Jesus, Moses and Elijah so that they could remain in that holy place. But they didn't really understand what this transfiguration meant and then were terrified when the Father spoke from the cloud... "This is my Beloved Son in whom I am well pleased... listen to Him." By giving these instruction to the apostles, Our Heavenly Father was telling them that if they paid attention to Jesus, their lives would be transformed too...

During this Lenten season, we are asked to change our lives. To listen to what the Beloved Son is telling us through His suffering and death... To have faith that no matter what trials we are facing, God's grace and mercy will carry us through. To forgive others as Jesus did from the cross... To reconcile with others before we bring our gifts to the altar. To recognize that acceptance of God's grace allows us to change.

When our lives are truly lived with the light of Christ within us, we will be transformed also... Our light will shine like the sun!

So, we ask God to help us to hold out... To give us patience... until our change comes.

Joy! Joy! Unspeakable Joy!

"Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God." (Teilhard de Chardin)


Such a moment occurred last Sunday at a nursing home where one of our elderly parishioners suffering from dementia was being cared for.

Many years ago, Gertrude and I would go together to bring Communion to our shut-in parishioners. She was a painfully shy woman who could not bring herself to go alone but wanted very much to participate in this ministry. Gertrude loved to help the sick and for many years, she nursed people in their homes.

As the years passed, Gertrude herself became homebound and slowly became a victim of dementia. I visited her many times to bring her Communion.

About two years ago, my visits ceased when Gertrude was placed in a nursing home. One of our other parishioners had been visiting her and she continued to do so at the several nursing homes Gertrude was moved in and out of. I could no longer keep track of her because I now had others I was visiting.

We now have a new pastor. One of the things we wanted to do was to introduce him to our shut-ins. This we have begun doing.

However, before taking our priest to visit Gertrude, I wanted to visit her myself to see how she was and to determine whether or not she could receive Communion. Rosemary, who had now visited her many times, thought that Gertrude could no longer understand what the Sacrament was about. That her dementia was too far advanced. So, we arranged a Sunday after Mass when I could accompany Rosemary and another parishioner to visit Gertrude.

We arrived at the nursing home and waited in the parlor until the nurse brought Gertrude to us in her wheelchair. I did not think she would remember me after so long a time, so I said very little.

Rosemary and Mieko sat on either side of Gertrude and were talking to her and showing her the Christmas gift they had brought. Gertrude recognized them. Suddenly she looked over to me; and with a look of incredible joy lighting up her face, she recognized me. I was absolutely overwhelmed... She wouldn't stop looking at me and she wouldn't stop smiling. I went over to her and tenderly stroked her hair as my tears fell. She held out her hand to me and spoke my name several times. Most of her words are now incoherent but she tried hard to communicate with us.

I was so moved because I recognized that this moment was a sacred one for Gertrude and for us who witnessed it. I thank God for this gift.

Even though she cannot speak coherently, she understood what we were saying. I told her the next time I came to visit, I would bring our priest with me. Again, her face broke out in a smile. If we had brought Communion to her that day, she could have received it and understood.

There's a lesson here. We simply don't know what an impact simple actions on our part can have on another person. All those times that Gertrude and I visited the sick together must have meant much more to her than I could ever have guessed.

The joy that God's presence brings was surely in that room with us that day.


Photo by Mieko via IPhone during our visit with Gertrude.

The Mirror Image - A Reflection

Recently my parish Gospel Choir was invited to sing at a Baptist Church Revival. We have sung at this church before since our choir director's mother is a member there. Our choir has been together for a long time and we enjoy these kinds of invitations. We are invited to sing at several different events each year.

I was struck by a story that the preacher leading the revival told the congregation. I want to share this story with you because what he said made a deep impression on me.

His story was about a man who was watching a silversmith refining silver. The silversmith had a quantity of silver that he was working with. He grasped a lump of silver with his tongs and aimed the tongs into the fire at its hottest point. The man watching the silversmith asked him what he was doing.

The silversmith replied that this fire was so hot that it would burn away all the impurities in the silver. When the impurities were gone, the silver would be refined and perfect; a thing of beauty. The man questioned the silversmith further and asked: "How do you know when the silver is purified and refined?"

"When I can see my face in it!" replied the silversmith.

The preacher then explained how similar this refining process is to what happens to us when God allows us to experience the sorrows, temptations, tragedies and challenges of our daily lives. We are tested and often given more than we believe we can bear; but through our belief and trust in God, we know that we are being purified and refined so that one day, when God looks at our souls, He will see His Face looking back at Him.

I had never thought of our God refining and purifying us in just this way... Maybe you haven't either. That's why I wanted to share this story with you.

Ways That Lead Nowhere; and the Awareness of Sin

From Psalm 139:

"Look into me, God, and know my heart;
Examine me and know my paths.
See if I am wandering on ways that lead nowhere,
And set my feet on the path to eternity."


Lord, you showed me very painfully that I had wandered on a way that leads nowhere...

That what I was mentally accusing others of, was precisely my own sin. The arrogance and pride that I attributed to others also resided in my own soul. That the anger and disgust I felt for the persons involved was my judgement of them - something I have no right to do.

Oh, my sin hit me like a rock! I was humbled. I was shocked... because I saw so clearly that I was no better than what I was attributing to others. And that sin was eroding and destroying my soul.

Have mercy on me, Lord... and forgive me. The Lord heard my plea.

As I was deciding what to do about the situation, the phone rang. It was my priest. After our conversation, I said I had something to ask of him: "After our parish meeting tonight, will you hear my confession?"

God is good...