Everyone likes
cookies. Cookies are good. But some cookies are better than others; bakery
cookies are better than packaged, and specialty store cookies better yet. But you can’t beat homemade goodies made by
the hands of someone who knows and loves you, and made with you in mind.
Last weekend as we ate
one of the quick meals we shoehorned in amongst the liturgies of the Triduum, Fr.
McDonell, seminarian Ben Petty, and I were all marveling at the genuine and
human reality that marks our liturgical worship. Every element is personal and presented live
and in the moment; nothing is prefabricated, prerecorded, or packaged. Nothing is live-streamed from elsewhere, or
broadcast to audiences who are elsewhere. This makes our worship an action of
the moment, and once it is over, there is nothing left. Even if you could catch it later on YouTube,
it would not be the same thing. Nope, it
is done, and then gone like a puff of smoke. Let my
prayer rise before you like incense, the raising of my hands like an evening
oblation. (Ps 141:2)
The music we enjoy
and participate in is a perfect example.
It is all made live and on the spot.
If it were at a concert, tickets would be expensive for the level of
music we enjoy. People who know us and
love us, and who know and love God, offer this to God, with us and for us. Heck, most of it does not even go through any
electronic amplification on its way to your ears, and God’s! And last week it was marvelous.
All this personal immediacy
requires a lot of persons. You should have seen the swarm of folks that
came out under the leadership of Jessica Barsch to put flowers in our
sanctuary. The folks who put out the reception on Easter
Sunday, beginning very, very early – or cleaned it up after everyone else had
gone home to their own celebrations. The
Scouts who kindled the New Fire at the beginning of the Great Vigil. The ushers who helped with the collections
and many more logistics besides. Don’t
forget the lectors, who brought all those Scriptures of both the prophecies and
their fulfillment, to life and light for us.
I particularly want
to draw your attention to my altar servers, who worked very, very hard and did
a brilliant job with all the complicated liturgies. All required preparation and practices, hours
of work you didn’t see, so that you could witness the Paschal Mystery made
manifest in your midst. And it looked
like they do it all the time! They were
a pleasure to work with and made me very proud, but most of all, their offering
was pleasing to God, for whom they did it.
Our regular crew of
rectory and parish staff all work extra hard in the days leading up to and
through Easter, especially Anthony Dao, and all our sacristy and sanctuary
workers, especially Mary and Norma. There
is a good reason the offices are closed on Easter Monday – everybody is exhausted.
The Risen Christ
chose to manifest himself to us not in a box or in a book, much less a
recording or reminiscence, but in the common experience of something that most
closely resembles dinner of a large extended family. And like that festive meal, this one required
a lot of work and a lot of love from a lot of people. And they served it to you.
You have something
better than the best homemade cookie here!
So, all these people whom you know well and with whom you share so many
activities and interests, who know you and love you, went to all this work
whether while you watched, or beforehand, or behind the scenes, just to make
this gift to you and to God for and with you – and me. Join me in saying Thank you. And thank God! Truly
He is risen! Alleluia!
Monsignor
Smith
