Going Away Party

Not more than five minutes ago, I was having this conversation with a good friend and fellow Catholic about tonight’s Holy Thursday activities at our parish.

Following the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, the tabernacle is going to be emptied and the Eucharist exposed for Adoration in the adjacent hall.  This will go on until midnight, and all are encouraged to keep Him company for those few hours.  In one of the classrooms of the school, they will be screening Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, to keep the kids occupied, or for whoever else wants to meditate upon the day of sorrow that is shortly coming.

All this in remembrance of Jesus’ final hours, beginning with the Last Supper, His agony in the garden, the Apostles falling asleep on Him, and then His arrest.  The empty tabernacle is observed in the Church worldwide.

I asked my friend:  “Are you ready for dinner and a movie with Jesus tonight?”

“For sure!”

“Ya know, Holy Thursday is kinda like His going away party.  But He’ll only be gone for three days.”

[Laughter here.]

Of course, we’re going to have an even bigger celebration when He comes back.

 

St. My Name’s Day

Yeah, yeah, I know… it’s St. Patrick’s Day. And I of all people should be celebrating it. But I’m not going to party. I’m not even wearing green today—partly because I didn’t remember to—and if I had remembered I probably wouldn’t have anyway. It is a Feast Day of a Saint of the Catholic Church, and with that, the day should be treated as such. St. Patrick’s contributions to our faith are remembered in my heart and mind, not in the color of my t-shirt or the mass quantities of Jameson consumed.

I wasn’t even supposed to be named Patrick.

I was named after my mother, who is Patricia. So technically I’m Patrick, Jr. (and yes, “junior” is correctly ascribed even though the name wasn’t passed from my father—it can apply to both, though my particular usage didn’t catch on).

I don’t know the whole story, and what I do know is at best blurry. I forget who told this to me—either my mother or grandmother, or maybe even a grandaunt—so for the sake of this posting I’m going to eschew further in-depth research and just fill in the holes with what makes sense, using my skills in creative fiction writing.

My mother was born on March 13 (belated happy birthday, Mom!) and my grandparents wanted to name her Marie Antoinette—yes, the one who got guillotined. Why, I don’t even know where to start trying to explain that one. But when they brought her in for baptism a few days later—where we as Catholics are officially named in the Church—it was March 17. Yes, St. Patrick’s Day. There must’ve been some sort of revelation and the name just rolled right off their tongues: they changed their mind and baptized her Maria Patricia.

So I could’ve been Anthony. Tony. (There’s another story from my father’s side where they changed their last name to escape some sort of persecution—so I could’ve been a whole different person altogether… but that’s another anecdote.)

On that note, the tradition of baptizing children with Biblical or religious names is dying out. All too often, parents are getting way too creative. By naming them Joshua, or Matthew, or Isaac, or Agnes, it is a gesture in which the parents are symbolically offering them entirely to God. The name is a way of thanking Him for the blessing of that child, and to remind us (and them) of their call to a life of holiness.

But I’m not discouraged. During the Rite of Confirmation, they can choose their own name from among the Saints who have served Him. In that act they stand on their own and affirm their faith to which their parents and Godparents were first entrusted.

 

I recently read a blog post from a fellow Catholic living on the other side of the country, who was responding to another article on the notion of “Sacramental Gatekeeping.” Namely, the original writer’s concern was that many diocesan Sacrament preparation courses are beginning to institute requirements that are too difficult to accomplish. At times, these may even be unnecessary or irrelevant to the particular Sacrament—put in only to ensure the recipient is serious about the process.

I wholly agree that there needs to be a program in place prior to receiving Sacraments. This way, the Church can be sure that those infants receiving Baptism will be raised by their parents and Godparents in the teachings of the faith. Those going to Reconciliation know the importance of mending their relationship with God, of confessing properly, and will be encouraged to seek it regularly. For First Communion, it is imperative the recipient acknowledge the true presence of Jesus so they can be in the proper state to receive Him. Our confirmandi need to be able to stand as adult Catholics and not fall to the wayside after being anointed. Those entering the vocations of Marriage and Holy Orders must adhere to their vows until death.

These programs have to be FIRM—but, fair. We do want recipients to know the value and importance of receiving them—and we also want them to receive Penance and Communion regularly. But, we do not want the process to be so stringent that those who do mean well drop out of a program because of technicalities—especially those that are irrelevant to the particular Sacrament.

The conservative Catholic in me has one qualm, however. I do not want to be that “holier-than-thou” guy, but I go to Reconciliation regularly enough to notice there is a disproportionate amount lining up outside confessionals on Saturday afternoons to those approaching the altar for Communion on Sunday mornings. For those of us who talk about defending our Sacraments, should we not be more scrutinizing about who receives Communion? One would think this would be more protected than the rest as we acknowledge the true presence of our Lord in the Eucharist.

For further reading, check out Fr. Peter Stravinskas’ Understanding the Sacraments.

 

The Origin of Pancake Breakfasts and Fish Dinners

In the recitation of our Creed, we Catholics profess the singularity of the tenets of our faith. The parishioner in Omaha, Nebraska received the same Baptism as in Oslo, Norway. Throughout the worldwide Church, this unity in belief has created institutions within individual communities that have also become globally practiced.

Pancake breakfasts and fish dinners have their origins in the observance of the current Lent season. Catholics prepare for the Passion during Holy Week and the joy of Easter with forty days of prayer, almsgiving and fasting. This includes sacrificing meals, certain luxuries and vices, and the abstinence from meat. In the days leading to Ash Wednesday (which is not a Holy Day of Obligation as many seem to think) when Lent officially begins, monasteries, convents, and rectories, along with Catholic homes, would traditionally empty their pantries of decadent foods like milk, flour, butter, eggs and sugar. The best way to dispose of these items without being wasteful is to make pancakes. In the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth, this last Tuesday before Lent is still called “Pancake Tuesday,” when people would enjoy one last feast before the fasting.

Pancake breakfasts and fish dinners have provided locally-based ministries and organizations—most noticeably the Knights of Columbus—with a means to both serve abstinence-friendly meals and encourage charity in their parish; profits from these events usually benefit the less fortunate. So in remembrance of the sacrifice made for us, let us remember to make our own.