Affirmations

Palm Sunday arrived with a sense of excitement and with the liturgical innovation that I have come to expect from my parish at this time each year. Always, it seems, there is something special to reflect upon as Holy Week begins.

In many ways I expected that today's liturgy would speak to me personally as we processed with palms in hand, singing praises, while meandering through the parish parking lot, up the wooded pathway, past the Marian shrine, and then back into the church. I was not disappointed in any way with the liturgy though it was not the procession itself that held the greatest inspiration.

Over the years I have come to see many affirmations of my faith unfold through parish life, all of which I accept as signs given to me by the Holy Spirit. Probably the greatest of these affirmations is my diaconal ministry itself—the call to ministry—as I recollect on the many special "words" from God in which I hear in my soul, "All is well." Over the years there have been many "all is well" moments.

Fourteen years ago I had just moved to Austin. I had been married for only a little more than a year and I had been a Catholic for just three years. After a month or so in town I decided to go for a drive one morning to explore the area. I drove to the furthest suburban neighborhoods of Austin and found the parish that I would eventually call home—where I would eventually live only a few minutes away.

That morning, fourteen years ago, I walked up the wooded pathway from the parking lot and I found the Marian shrine. It was the perfect location to pause and pray. In my prayer I thanked God for helping me find such a beautiful place, and I came away with a sense of affirmation that I had been brought to where I was, although I had no idea how things would eventually unfold—but I sensed it deeply.

Recently I have been impressed with the sense of God's communication that does not need words but nevertheless requires a soul willing to hear and a vessel willing to hold what God wants to pour into it. Often when God speaks to us we hear incrementally, only realizing some time later the fullest impact of what has been imparted to us. Undoubtedly I know that such communication has been occurring in my life and the content of it centers on what we do at the altar.

For many months I have felt the Holy Spirit communicating—though without words—the special sacredness and sense of reverence belonging to the Eucharistic celebration. For me it has come as a power that literally puts me on my knees in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. Undoubtedly, the affirmation has to do with being in the presence of Christ actually. Somehow, I sense there is more to be said that is yet to come.

As the final Sunday liturgy ended yesterday, and—though in a way not typical to our ordinary way of ending the Mass—as I knelt, ad orientem, along with the priest and altar servers, I had yet another moment of affirmation. There in front of me was the altar. Nothing else really seemed to matter, just that which was only a few inches away. As we sang refrains of "Where you there when they crucified my Lord" the moment of greatest inspiration came. I stared intently at the altar, at the little sea-shell indentations in the stone, at the light from the candles illuminating the ivory linen cloth.

Not in a million lifetimes would have dreamed that I would kneel so close to the altar of God while a church full of worshiping souls prayed along. Indeed God brings us along the way to where we are and continues to lead us along the path of life. Exactly where things will end up, who is to say? The most important thing perhaps to keep in mind is that God is in control always, still showing the way, still communicating to us. He lets us know that everything has only just begun. Perhaps the best way to begin Holy Week is simply to allow all to be well with your soul and rest in the knowledge of God's nearness, and in his many affirmations.

Comments

[Ann]

A`beautiful reflection indeed. Placing ourselves in God's hands is not risking anything, but it is rather trusting everything that comes our way as the work of Divine providence as He shapes us and draws us to Himself. The altar moment as you describe it is wonderful

[Ann]

A`beautiful reflection indeed. Placing ourselves in God's hands is not risking anything, but it is rather trusting everything that comes our way as the work of Divine providence as He shapes us and draws us to Himself. The altar moment as you describe it is wonderful

[Carol]

Beautiful, DDW. Though they be absolutely astounding in depth as they unfold over time, as we come to see where He is present and has consistently been working in our lives, His affirmations are deeply quiet. In that quiet, one has the option to miss them, lest our free will be breached and we feel threatened to not go to Him. That gentleness alone is astounding, for God is God.

But His new commandment was resoundingly quiet, as were His beatitudes. He gave us His Mother as our own as the flesh she gave Him was dying on the Cross, and sent us the Comforter to pray within us and remind us of all He said. He gave us the model of His own earthly life in the Church and arranged for Her to house, feed and raise us--day by day, sacrament by sacrament--unto risen life, under the pleadings of Mary, the protection of Joseph. Gentle and quiet, all, but so powerful in love, satan is beside himself with rage at Christ's mystical Body. We are free to choose Gestas' gnashing defeat, or Dysmas' gentle, honest being surprised by Mercy.

Seems to me He even gives us His clothes--the linens on the altar, and those on a casket, and those on baptizees, are the same as that which Mary wove for Him, the same that He was stripped of which later was gambled for, the same as wrapped His Body, which were burst through in victory.

"Perhaps the best way to begin Holy Week is simply to allow all to be well with your soul and rest in the knowledge of God's nearness.." -- Yes. Amen.