Showing posts with label dalmatic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dalmatic. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Reflection on the Easter Vigil - 2015

Mass.  The church was built in the late 1800’s; it has high vaulted ceilings, large stain glass windows, dark wood pews.  Even with the all the church lights on, it is very dim inside.  I am assisting as a deacon at the Mass; I have been the responsibility of chanting the great Easter hymn, “the Exsultet,” which takes about 9 minutes to chant.  And I really do not want to muck it up!  From the sacristy, I stand in the sanctuary of the church, and pray: “My Risen Lord, be with me this night!  All good I am able to do to because of your grace; may your Spirit be within me!”  At that moment, I experience something, I cannot describe; I am rooted in that place, and for a few seconds I am not aware of what is happening around me.  The feeling passes and I go back into the sacristy.

The church has some fine vestments, for the evening Mass, I put on a gold and white dalmatic, the deacon’s vestment.  It feels stiff to me; I usually wear only an alb and stole.  The priests and the other deacon, Michael, also vest.  We then head to the back of the church, as the lights begin to go out.  By the time we are ready, the entire church is in darkness.  Father Mark lights a fire in a brazier, by the light of that fire, he blesses the Easter Candle; from the fire he draws a flame to light the Candle.  The fire is extinguished, the only light that pierces the darkness in the church, is the flame of the Easter Candle.  Deacon Michael lifts the Candle, and he and I walked down the main aisle.  Deacon Michael stops, lifts high the Candle; and I intone: “Lumen Christi!”  The choir and the congregation respond: “Deo Gratias!”  Then from that one Candle, the light is shared with dozens of other candles, points of light begins to spread throughout the darken church.  Twice we stop, twice I chant “Lumen Christi,” twice the light is shared, until the entire church is full of points of light.  The Easter Candle in placed in its stand, next to the pulpit. 

I climb into the pulpit, open my binder, take a deep breath, and sing out: “Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven,….Rejoice, let Mother Church also rejoice, arrayed with the lightning of his glory, let this holy building shake with joy, filled with the mighty voices of the peoples.”


“Christ is Risen!”  He is Risen Indeed!”

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Two Months and Counting Till Ordination Day


I am writing this on July 22, the year of Our Lord, 2012.  In two months, God willing, I and nine other gentlemen will be in the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, being ordained as Permanent Deacons for the Roman Catholic Church in Boston, Massachusetts. 

This will be the culmination of many years of formation, academic classes, days of recollection, and retreats.  And the end of the process suddenly seems so close.  We recently gathered, as a class, in a local parish church to practice the deacon’s role in the celebration of the Eucharist.  Last week, my wife and I met with the administrator of a parish I may be assigned to.  And yesterday, I picked up the alb that I will wear on my ordination day.  We are all waiting to schedule our final fittings for our dalmatics.

There is still a lot of preparation work to do.  There are invitation cards to prepare and mail; seating plans to approve, and receptions to plan.  But at the same time, there is the waiting for the results of our final evaluation interviews, and the marks from our last academic semester still have to be reported.  So nothing is written in stone.

I feel these next couple of months should be for me a time of preparation, with more intensive prayer, and more study and reflection on the call of the diaconate. I hope it will be a fruitful time.