It is over. It is done. It is finished.

These were the words dancing through the minds of the Pharisees, The members of the Sanhedrin, Pilate, Herod, and all the ones who spat upon and mocked him.

To them, it was finished. Finally, this revolutionary had been put to death. To the Jews he was a blasphemer, to the Romans, no doubt, a disturber of the peace. Was it not better that this one man should die rather than an entire people?

And yet, this tree, that to the non-believers was just a bark of dead wood on which Jesus was crucified, already begins to shoot forth sprigs of the new life that is to come.

Jesus gives the beloved disciple (a stand-in for you and me) into the care to the Blessed Mother. She is now our mother. She stands at the foot of our crosses, walks our road with us, lifts us into the embrace of her Son. Mary is given to us as well, her motherhood of us all is ordained by God and commanded from the cross with the same voice that hovered over the waters in Genesis. And Mary says “yes.”

A thief who has just gone to confession is given absolution and a promise of what that absolution will mean for his soul. Paradise. Communion with God for eternity.

Peter was filled with remorse. He was making his act of contrition as he huddled in the upper room.

A centurion thrusts a spear into the side of Our Savior, now dead, and opens the Chalice of Divine Mercy that rains down The Blood that redeems us and the water that will claim us for Christ and his Church in Baptism. He makes his first act of faith. “Truly this man was the Son of God.” Already, the catechumenate is being formed.

But the powers of this world missed the silent growth taking place from the wood of the cross.

And it is still so today. If God is dead, if His Kingship is not recognized, if his statutes and commandments to love to the point of death, even death on a cross, are not taught, learned, and imitated, then it would seem that it is over. It is done. It is finished.

If the crucifixion of Jesus was simply a historical event that occurred an ocean away, then why cannot I begin to raise up myself as a god? I do not need a dead god to tell me to love when it is difficult or seems impossible. I make the rules of love and hate. I do not need a corpse to tell me to respect my body and that of others. The new life that grows inside the body of a woman has no creator. If I have killed the one who thought he was God, I can kill as I like. I do not need redemption. I do not want it. It is done.

This is why, of course, that the Church continues to celebrate the Paschal Triduum, year after year, quietly hailing the triumph of our Savior over sin and death. Because in the moments after the cock has crowed announcing our sin to the morning, in the moments when we realize need a true mother to comfort us, in the moments when we desperately seek communion and paradise, when we catch a glimpse through the torn veil of our broken lives that we need A Savior…He is there.

He waits for us. He keeps vigil for us. He fixes His gaze of love upon us. A treasury is opened unto us here on earth if we thieves but pronounce the words of repentance: “Jesus, Remember Me.”

Baptism. Confirmation. Eucharist.

Reconciliation and Anointing of the Sick

Holy Marriage

The Holy Orders of deacon, priest, and bishop.

This is why we come. This is why the Church re-presents and makes new every year the mystery of this holy moment of Christ’s passion and death.

Because we know that when it is done, when it is over, when it is finished. It is beginning.

(Source: catholicunderground.com)

Often, when we look at the event Jesus washing of the feet of his apostles in the Gospel we have just heard, we tend to think of it as an act of the utmost charity of God. “As I have done, so you must do.” To wash the feet of another is to take upon oneself the stewardship of grime and blood. To make clean the wounds that life inflicts upon the foot. Indeed, the washing of feet is an expression of the cost of discipleship: to take up our own crosses of suffering and willingly enter into the suffering of others with the balm of love.

But, Jesus’ washing of feet of the twelve men in the upper room goes even deeper than this. In the Old Testament, we see that foot-washing is a very specific action. Only those who come from heaven have their feet washed: The angels who visit Abraham (Gen 18:4) and the angels that visit Lot (Genesis 19:2) 

The men in the Old Testament who were ordained priests had their entire bodies ritually washed (as recorded in Leviticus 8 of Aaron and his Sons).

Because the Old Testament foreshadows what is to be fulfilled in the New Testament, we are able to see why it is that Jesus has his feet washed by the woman with the costly jar of perfume in Luke chapter 7. He is from heaven.

And as we witness tonight, both in scripture and in liturgical action, when Jesus takes off his outer garment, girds himself with a towel and washes the feet of the 12, a very specific action is taking place.

He washes their feet because the ministry that up until this point was reserved for angels alone, now becomes their ministry. With the washing of their feet, Jesus ordains them to the priesthood in order to make them like the ministering angels, to bring heavenly bread, to bring healing oil of anointing, to bring saving waters of baptism, to the world.

Peter experiences some difficulty in his vocational discernment as he realizes what Jesus is doing…”you will never wash my feet.” Finally, Peter accepts his call to Holy Orders and says to Jesus “…then wash my face and hands as well…” realizing that Jesus must be repeating the same action as Aaron and his sons experienced upon being ordained priests. Jesus states that only the feet need be washed, for this new priesthood closely follows the ministry of the angels.

Jesus then commands the apostles:

“If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet, you ought to wash one another’s feet. I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.”

The Apostles are to take upon themselves the ordination of deacons and priests, the passing onto worthy men the ministry of God to his people. By “washing one another’s feet” he gives these Apostles - our first bishops - the mandate to ordain men as they themselves had just been by Jesus.

Connected intimately with the institution of the priesthood (which is a kind of birthday for me as a priest!) is the Institution of the Eucharist. Unmistakably, the most important thing that a priest of Jesus Christ can do is bring Our Lord himself in this Holy Sacrament, to God’s people.

More than manna from heaven, more than oil and wine poured on a wound, more than a seraph serpent mounted on a pole, Christ himself willed to transform ordinary bread and wine into His Own Body and Blood. He Willed that Men should be chosen and ordained to bring this gift to those who have been baptized into His life, death, and resurrection. Through the activity of the priest, by the working of the Holy Spirit, the salvation offered us by His crucifixion and death are communicated to us; a complex mystery and given in such a simple gift. 

Blessed Pope John Paul II said in one of his Holy Thursday letters to priests in 1980:

“there can be no Eucharist without the priesthood, just as there can be no priesthood without the Eucharist.”

Jesus established this new priesthood to sanctify (make holy) people and prepare them for life with himself. When you receive the Eucharist, and are made holy by the other Sacraments of the Church, you then go into the public square, to your businesses, schools, families, voting booth, doctor’s offices, and become extensions of the activity of your priests. You too become like ministering angels. The priest enables you to draw others to Jesus by bringing the Holy Sacraments to you. And you then having been made holy are able to touch the lives of others in ways that the priest cannot.

On your part, you must also make it a priority in your families to encourage young men to seek the Holy Priesthood. There are those in our congregation tonight that need your prayer and perhaps your words to say, “Present yourself to God, for I believe you would make a good priest.”

As I wash the feet of 12 men of the parish, it is a reminder to me as your priest, that I have an important task in seeing to it that you are made holy, that your souls are given the opportunity to be cleaned, and that you are given the opportunity to learn and grow in a deeper love for Jesus Christ, The Only Son of God.

Pray for me, a sinner, unworthy of the vocation and responsibility that God has given, that as I wash these feet, we may both have the courage to follow where our feet must all travel – to the cross, to the tomb, and to the hope of Easter morning.

While on vacation, getting my tires rotated, or waiting in the ‘10 items or less’ supermarket line, I inevitably get into a discussion with somebody about why I wanted to become a priest. I’m very happy to give either the long or short form of my vocation story, but I have come to realize that this is usually a setup for the following cliché (in these or similar words):

“Well, I still think you should be allowed to marry. I don’t understand why the Church hasn’t changed with the times.”

This always elicits a tiny chuckle in the back of my brain. A person who is usually married and doesn’t generally desire ordination to the priesthood is at odds with the Church on an issue of Ecclesiastical discipline that in no way affects him or herself.

I appreciate your ire on my behalf. Are you hoping to be an advocate for my so-called “rights” as a priest?

My response then usually catches the “enlightened” person off guard:

“You know, even if I could marry, I wouldn’t do so. I would remain celibate.”

The stunned silence is usually long enough of a pause for me to continue. I explain that:

1) I am married. To The Church. Mystical, yes. Hard to wrap the brain around, yes. But as a celibate man ordained to the priesthood of Jesus Christ, I imitate The Bridegroom Himself who both enjoys union with and longing for His Bride, The Church.

Just because you don’t believe that this is possible, or a good idea, or a “modern” concept, doesn’t make it an impossibility nor a bad idea nor an archaic concept. God even guides the “man made” rules of the Church, of which the discipline of celibacy is included.

2) There are married clergy within The Catholic Church. The Latin Rite of the Roman Catholic Church is but one “branch” of twenty-three particular Churches that are in full communion with Bishop of Rome, the pope.

In the Roman Rite of the Church, as a matter of spiritual discipline, the priests do not marry, the bishops do not marry, and transitional deacons do not marry. Men who are married before ordination to the permanent diaconate may be ordained, even though they are married.

In the Eastern Catholic Churches, those other 22 sister Churches with a distinct liturgical and disciplinary tradition, still retain the practice of married priests and married deacons. It is interesting to note though, that bishops of all 23 rites are never allowed to marry.

Ye Olde Wikipediae has a pretty good article on this here.

3) I am happy! I don’t feel oppressed, depressed, or repressed. I’m happy to give my life to Jesus in this way. I struggle like anyone in their particular vocation, but I am fulfilled in the path I have taken. If I weren’t, I would be doing something else!

4) Rules and disciplines do not automatically destroy freedom, they can elevate it. The ability one has to make a conscious choice, in this case to the celibate state, is actually an exercise of virtue. Virtue builds upon itself. Properly exercised, grace builds upon virtue, and it makes one holy. Holiness leads to sanctification. Sanctification makes the soul desire heaven. Heaven is the ultimate aim and hopeful destination of us all.

So, next time you meet me in the cereal asile of the Big Box store, I’ll be happy to share my story with you. If you’re loading the barrels to quibble with me over a misunderstanding you have with my Wife, get ready…because I’m packin’ too.

On the occasion of jubilee years, debts would be forgiven, wars would end, and new things would begin.

While 2012 isn’t a jubilee year, I’m hoping that a new attempt at placing my thoughts on digital paper will prove useful for me and maybe for a few of you who have asked for homilies, and other data that has spilled from my brain.

I usually don’t think that the stuff I come out with is terribly worth remembering, hence the title: Probably Not Profound (dot com!).  So, pray for me, for my church parishes, and for this renewed endeavor!