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Easter Vigil March 30, 2024

Easter Vigil

March 30, 2024

We began the Lenten Season with fire, and we ended Holy Week with fire. 50 days ago, we burnt the palm from last year’s Palm Sunday liturgy and today we lit the Easter fire.  Fire is the sign of the spirit. (Isn’t it interesting that we see so many visitors when we deal with palm.  They come for ashes and palms.) The spirit lead Jesus and us into the desert. We walked in the darkness of our sin, and we thirsted for the water of baptism to renew us in our journey in the desert.

The fire of palms and Easter is a fire that overcomes the darkness of our lives. Darkness is more about the inability to discern objects often the ability to see is about seeing beyond the concrete world into the other world.  In the gospels it is the blind who see most clearly. The blind cry out “Son of David”, they see beyond the outside of Jesus into his messianic person, born in the line of David.  Those who are blind find that their other senses become clearer. 

This year I had number 5 and 6 surgeries on my eyes.  My vision is something I have come to take for granted.  I am glad doctors and surgeons can accomplish so much these days.

When I had my first large tear, surgery number 3, I was scheduled to travel to Rome for the canonization of Kateri Tekakwitha. I could not fly to Rome because of the gas bubble placed in my eye to hold the tear in place.  I recalled that our local saint had vision problems due to smallpox as a girl. Tekakwitha means to feel around.  I prayed and asked the pilgrims to pray, and my doctor told me I was fortunate to have any vision in my right eye. A year later I developed a tear in my left eye, a giant tear. Once again, our local saint came through.  2 years later I was sent to be vicar in the Mohawk Valley just down the road from the Kateri shrine.

Kateri was one of those people who could see with the eyes of faith, she had difficulty seeing the light and objects around her, but when she heard the words of the Jesuit missionaries she came to believe in Christ and his promises.  

This year I met another girl who could see clearly with her eyes of faith. Marie-Laure LeBlanc in the book and series  All the Light we cannot see  sees clearly what is most important in life.  This is what Elizebeth Hamilton has to say about the series “ …this is a miniseries about how sight can be deceptive. What looks one way, might be another.  The invisible may be what matters most.  The one who is blind may be able to see best.

Marie-Laure is quoted as saying  “The most important light of all is the light we cannot see.”

The story takes place in the contest of Nazi occupied France.  Marie-Laure as a child listened to radio broadcasts from the “Professor” when she is evacuated to friends of her father, she discovers the Professor is her host.  She uses his radio to make her own broadcasts, some are used to transmit coded messages to the underground.  He father has taken a gem from the museum and a Nazi wishes to find it because there is a legend it gives eternal life to the bearer. 

There are many references to light in the story, Like the stories of the gospel healings, often Mari-Laure sees more clearly than many around her.

Another fan of the professor’s broadcasts is a German boy.  He is tasked to seek and destroy the woman who is broadcasting readings from Jules Verne that in code give messages to the underground.  Werner discovers affection for the broadcaster and seeks to protect her.  She sees something good in him, even though he has conspired with the Nazis.

Hamilton again:  viewers might go so far as to see a vision of the kingdom of God in this story, an upside down, hidden world that nonetheless exists, and is in face even more important and meaningful that what we can see with just our two eyes.” …. 

Love is stronger. Love cannot be touched by pain. Love, ultimately, is the most important light we cannot see-and idea that once again recalls passages from the gospel where Jesus, who so often sees goodness where others see nothing, associates himself, his love his life with light. As their dear professor puts it, ‘Darkness last not even for one second when you turn on the light.”

All of us in our Lenten journey have been seeking for the light. Our fasting, our prayer, our alms are to provide us with a new light to see ourselves and the world in a new way.

I came to appreciate the gift of light that helped to illuminate the missal pages as I prayed the prayers at mass.  Thank God for word-processes that allowed the words to be enlarged. I was told by members of the congregation that the words were visible from the pews. Isn’t it wonderful that God has provided men and woman who know how to heal broken eyes and bodies.  Not too many years ago, I would have been blind forever.  Thank God I didn’t have to shop for a white cane.  I am thankful for a car that has safety features that keep me safe as I drive.

I stopped taking things for granted. I discovered we live in a world designed for the young and healthy.   The labels on my eye drop bottles are so small I need a magnifying glass to read them.  Thank God the caps are color coded.  Why do all my appliances have black letters on  a black background?

I pray that what I cannot see with my eyes I see with   my eyes of faith.  With the eyes of faith, one sees medical breakthroughs as a miracle. One sees the power of intercessory prayer as real.   The words of scriptures and the psalms are words of the truth of God’s presence in our world.

Our 40 days in the desert were not wasted they served to sharpen our sight, as they did for Jesus.  Back to the story  All the light we cannot see.

Another fan of the professor’s broadcasts is a German boy.  He is tasked to seek and destroy the woman who is broadcasting readings from Jules Verne that in code give messages to the underground.  Werner discovers affection for the broadcaster and seeks to protect her.  She sees something good in him, even though he has conspired with the Nazis.

Hamilton again:  viewers might go so far as to see a vision of the kingdom of God in this story, an upside down, hidden world that nonetheless exists, and is in face even more important and meaningful that what we can see with just our two eyes.” …. 

Love is stronger. Love cannot be touched by pain. Love, ultimately, is the most important light we cannot see-and idea that once again recalls passages from the gospel where Jesus, who so often sees goodness where others see nothing, associates himself, his love his life with light. As their dear professor puts it, ‘ Darkness last not even for one second when you turn on the light.”

By Fr. Christopher Welch March 24, 2025
After Moses has his conversation with God in the Burning Bush, Moses asks God for what name he should use in referring to God. God gives the vague answer, “I am who I am.” Asking for someone’s name is a common occurrence. When we refer to someone with their name, we honor them. We all like to be referred to by name. This is one way we honor a person. Not all of us are good at remembering names, but when we do remember and use the name of the other person, we honor them. One of the names for God is taken from our psalm, “The Lord is kind and merciful”. God is also patient. The parable from the gospel about the fig tree is a parable about God’s patience. God, being the gardener, is willing to wait a year for fruit. God works the same for all of us. God is patient with us. Not everyone comes to faith in the same way or the same time frame. Some take less time, others more. When we see a new face in church we don’t ask “What took you so long?” or “Where have you been?” We simply say, “Welcome! It is good to have you here.” We ask and learn the name of the new person and we speak to him or her each week using their name and making them feel welcome. Maybe you have been a fig tree or known someone who is or was a fig tree. This is a good reason to give thanks to the patient nature of God. Remember the kingdom is in the future and now.
By Fr. Chris Welch March 16, 2025
2 nd Sunday of Lent C March 16, 2025 One of my memories of being a student at SUCO in the 1980s were my trips to sit and pray at Table Rock, just above the Hartwick Campus. At that time, I could look down on the world’s largest train roundhouse. Going up high gives one a new perspective. The disciples saw Jesus in a new way. Going down the mountain meant continuing their journey to Jerusalem. As we know when Luke uses the word Jerusalem he is speaking about passion, pain, and death. Resurrection comes later. Standing on a mountain top the world feels very different. The problems of the world are far below us. One comes down off the mountain with a new vision. Even if they were allowed, how could the disciples describe what happened on that mountain. Mountain top moments is one way we speak of the spiritual moments in our lives. A mountain top experience may take place anywhere and at any time. I am reminded of the moment Thomas Merton describes in Louisville. “In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all those people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers. It was like waking from a dream of separateness, of spurious self-isolation in a special world, the world of renunciation and supposed holiness… This sense of liberation from an illusory difference was such a relief and such a joy to me that I almost laughed out loud… I have the immense joy of being man, a member of a race in which God Himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are. And if only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun.” When have you had mountain top experience? Where did it take place? What were you doing at the time? ( Pause here ) Lent is a season for adjusting how we look at ourselves and the world. In Two weeks, we have gone from the desert to the mountain top. Next week we will stand before a burning bush and ask God what do we do now? Last Sunday I joined 200 Catechumens who placed their names in the book of the Elect as they prepared to celebrate the rites of initiation at the Easter vigil. For the past year of so they have been looking for a relationship with Jesus and the Community. These 40 days of Lent are their final retreat as they adjust their vision to be disciples of Jesus. We journey with them as we fast, pray and give alms. Let our disciplines of Lent help us to invite “mountaintop” experiences into our lives.
By Deacon Paul Cerosaletti March 9, 2025
One of the enduring memories that I have growing up on the farm as a boy and young man was the annual spring ritual of picking stones from the fields that we had tilled for the planting of corn or a new seeding of hay crop. After the fields had been plowed and then harrowed, we would enter into the field, often the whole family, accompanying our tractor with its bucket loader. Each of us would begin this methodical search for stones that were large enough to cause damage to the crop planting and harvesting machinery. When we found those stones, we would then pick them up and throw them, or carry and drop them, into the tractor bucket. With the largest stones, the best we could do was to pry them up out of the brown earth with our hands and roll and flop them into the tractor bucket. The image in my mind’s eye of the barren stony field with its brown tilled earth, and our methodical wandering back and forth, back and forth, back and forth in front of the tractor searching for stones to pick, conjures a parallel image of the Israelites wandering in the barren desert, a story we are reminded of by Moses in the first reading we heard today — a story not just of the Israelites wandering in the desert alone but, as Moses reminds them, wandering accompanied by God who heard their cry, saw their affliction, their toil, and their oppression , and led and accompanied them out of that. They were not alone; God was with them in the midst of their deserts and provided for them. We are encouraged to remember this today, as we wander in our own desert fields, picking stones from our lives: God is with us, by our sides, in our midst. And God the Son, Jesus Christ, invites us to seek his help in doing so. He tells us: “Come to me, all you who are burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Mt 11:28) It is desert and stones again that we hear of also in the Gospel passage. Jesus Christ has been in a self-sacrificing fast in the desert, is hungry, and is tempted by the devil to use his power to turn stones into bread and to feed on them. He resists the temptation — pointing to and drawing strength from reliance on God. Are we often tempted to feed on the stones that we carry in the desert fields of our lives? How often are those stones temptations, not to feed on something seemingly desirable, like bread, but rather to feed on that which is unpalatable — such as stones of bitterness, animosity, anger, discord, fear, discouragement, or useless anxiety. I think those are just as often the weighty stones we carry in our desert fields and that we may be tempted to feed on. It takes conscious effort to reach out to God for grace, in even the simplest of prayers, to resist these temptations, recognizing that often God’s grace comes through others around us who help us, support us, and love us. Let us not forget that we have in Jesus Christ one who, like us, has been similarly tested through what he endured; he is able to help us who are being tested ( cf Heb 2:18). One who invites us: “Come to me, all you who are burdened, and I will give you rest.” Jesus invites us to give him our burdens, our stones — whatever they may be: bitterness, animosity, anger, judgmentalism, fear, discouragement, anxiety — all of the things that ultimately rob us of the joy God and Christ desire for us.  We have an invitation and a choice to give these over to Christ —to let go of these stones. It is an invitation and choice that is mirrored symbolically in our parish invitation in the bulletin over the last few weeks to leave a stone at the foot of Christ’s Cross here in the well throughout Lent. A ritual act of handing over, letting go, and letting God; letting God take our stones which do not and cannot feed us, and instead feed us with his True Food and life-giving Word and Spirit. If you have not thought to bring a stone from home, fear not; there are a bucket of them here in the well. And, don’t worry about dropping your stone on the burlap desert sands; there is plenty of padding underneath! And as we leave our stones behind, maybe we can pick up and take away with us the kindness Fr. Chris invited us to share in his homily on Ash Wednesday; kindness that we feed each other with, looking out for each other, loving each other. It’ll be the same kindness that will end up feeding us .
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