On this Wednesday after Easter we hear the wonderful story of Jesus’ appearing to two disciples on their way to Emmaus. The story seems to be a humorous, lengthy reflection on the ways of knowing Jesus, and it places the Eucharist ahead of all others. There is humor – or Easter Joy -- because the evangelist has told you who the stranger is, and you recognize all his characteristic mannerisms, but these two do not know him until “the breaking of bread.”
With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him.
This story reminds us the Eucharist is the most important place to meet Jesus. There are a thousand other ways and they’re all good, and they all lead to the Mass, where we meet our God face to face.
For the past two centuries the western Catholic Church has been reforming our liturgy to help us encounter the mystery of God's face. 19th century reforms permitted American priests to celebrate some sacraments -- baptism and marriage -- in English.
Then children were given their First Communion at the age of seven in the early part of the 20th century. The laity was encouraged to follow the celebration of the Mass with missals. Gregorian Chant was reintroduced and enjoyed a brief revival. (Some of us believed it had always been the song of the church.) I remember changes in the Easter Liturgies in the late 1950's.
Then came The Changes with the Second Vatican Council. The entire Mass was celebrated in the vernacular languages, the priest faced the people across the altar, "dialog" was reintroduced to the congregation, and everyone was encouraged to receive the Eucharist under both "species" of bread and wine. The Sign of Peace was also reintroduced to the congregation.
In the early years of this decade, we have studied the “GIRM” -- the General Instructions of the Roman Missal – and learned to bow before receiving the Eucharist.
We will receive a new translation of the Mass prayers beginning in Advent, 2011. This new translation will be somewhat more formal -- some say "stilted" -- than the one we've been using. (But the more I see of informality, the less I like it. Beyond a certain point it becomes just plain rudeness. Hurray for formality! Let’s stand on ceremony for a change, and see if we don’t relearn civility.)
In the early Church, contemplation was not the preserve of isolated specialists in monasteries who spent long hours in solitary confinement. It was freely practiced by everyone who attended the glorious, stained-glass, candlelit, incense-smoky, musical celebrations that were filled with movement, spiced with silence and saturated with majesty.
People did not demand a “Quiet Mass” to relieve them from the harassment of television, telephone, children and pets, as many Americans do today. It was not an escape from life but a place where they encountered Life.
Little by little that tradition is being restored. I’ve seen great improvement in congregational participation in my 35 years of priesthood. People respond to the presider’s invitations. Many people have rediscovered the pleasure of singing, despite their children’s attempts to stifle them. (If you can't embarrass your children in public, what's the point of taking them?)
Like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, more people are meeting God face to face in the breaking of bread and the blessing cup of his Eucharist.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.