First of all it's been an ugly day here along the Sarthe River. It was foggy and damp when I went to the church for vigils at 5AM. You could feel it in your bones. Because we are so far west in the time zone, the sun doesn't rise till about 7AM anyway. Right now it sets after 7PM because we have not sprung forward yet (that takes place next weekend when it will set around 8:30PM). Any way it doesn't really matter because the sun never made it through the overcast today.
It's a shame the sun didn't shine for our procession at the beginning of Mass while the monks sang Pueri Hebraeorum. The Mass which was two hours and fifteen minutes began with the blessing of branches and the Luke's Gospel passage about Jesus entering the city and how excited they were to welcome Him. The packed church (monks, retreatants, faithful then followed the abbot into the formal monastery gardens (that are off limits except for the monks) about the size of 3/4 of a football field. The monks were chanting the whole time. But it was cold: about 38-40 degrees.
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| Palm Sunday Procession through the cloister. |
Maybe Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion should always be cold because by the time we got settled back in church 3 monks were already chanting Luke's version of the Passion. From His Sunday entrance to his Thursday arrest the crowds become awfully cold to Jesus. Here is where that fickle word entered my head the first time. How did everything appear to go so wrong, so fast? We know the answer to that. We know the end of the story; and no matter if it was in Queens Village, Solesmes or Rome we celebrated Mass which recalls the Passion, death, Resurrection and Ascension of the Lord Jesus Christ!
Now there was no lack of sun today in Rome as Our Holy Father blessed the palm and olive branches by the great obelisk in the Piazza S. Pietro. With so many young people gathered on this first day of Holy Week there was a tangible excitement. The excitement was certainly about the Great Week before us but also about this new Shepherd who will lead us. Everyone loves Francis! But what happens Thursday? No, not this Holy Thursday. But what happens when he begins to challenge us with the Gospel Message of Jesus? How will he be received when he challenges us not to consume so much? Or that our rights are dependent upon those of others? Or that every life is sacred from natural conception to natural death? Again that fickle word made it's way to my consciousness.
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| Pope Francis listens to the Gospel Reading with Palm in hand. |
After a well deserved meal and a long overdue nap, I returned to the church for Sunday Vespers with as it is called here "un Salut" to Real Presence of Christ in the Most Holy Eucharist. Sunday vespers are always important and the First day of Holy Week made them all the more so. Even without the sun cascading in the near clear windows of the choir the monks began singing the psalms of evening prayer. Maybe because I had a few hours to meditate about it but the Lord's Passion did not seem as violent. Perhaps it was because there was no one shouting "Crucify him!," but I think it was more than likely because placed upon the Altar was Jesus Christ in the Most Blessed Sacrament. With Jesus so close, it's silly but, the church seemed a little warmer, the world, a little calmer, and the violence of this morning's Passion account, a bit more muted. As I raised my eyes to the Altar and looked upon the monstrance with the Sacred Host, the Saving Victim, that fickle word returned to my head. All I could think was St. Teresa's observation. "God never changes." There is nothing fickle about Jesus, although He probably has as many reasons to be as people made in His image. Precisely because there is nothing fickle in God, it allows me to handle the fickle nature in myself and others.
The sun should be out tomorrow, though they say it will be cold again. Imagine that! Fickle weather for an imperfect world.
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