Homily from Low Sunday Vespers & Benediction
Fr. Michael Barone presided at our Vespers and Benediction on the second Sunday of Easter, known most commonly now as Divine Mercy Sunday, but known by a plethora of other names as well: Low Sunday, White Sunday (from the Latin Dominica in albis), and Quasimodo or Quasimodogeniti Sunday (from the Latin introit for Mass), among others! Fr. Barone gave us permission to post his homily here on the blog to share with you. Our next Vespers and Benediction will be on Saturday, May 13, at 5:30pm. Consider coming early for other Eucharistic events hosted here that day! See our post here for more details.
Homily Low Sunday Vespers
Classical literature commemorates today as the Sunday Victor Hugo’s fictional protagonist was discovered in Paris’ Cathedral bell tower, in the eponymous tale of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. He was named Quasimodo. As the familiar antiphon for this morning’s Mass and evening Office expresses, we are invited to rejoice in the Lord in the manner of newborn babes who desire the rational milk of the Faith without guile. In such purity, the Church concludes this octave, giving a foretaste of the eternal Easter in Heaven. Have you ever watched a toddler or small child attempting to interact with his surroundings? As children develop their senses and become accustomed to the three-dimensional world in which we live, they are constantly reaching-for and grabbing-on-to everything and everyone around them, no matter how sticky and chocolate-covered their little hands might be. As we grow older, we may learn to become more “mannered,” but I don’t think we ever get over the instinct to want to hold onto something or someone precious to us. Touch seems to make something all the more real to us. The Church, in her wisdom incorporates this, and indeed all the senses into the sacraments, which come to us from the hands of a priest. The priest is father who feeds us, children, born anew in the waters of baptism.
How is it, then, that we are engaged by liturgy through our senses? We hear bells which call our attention to the sacred, we smell blessed incense, often thick and stupefying, which rises up to God, and like our prayers, surrounds the altar during consecrated moments in time. We hear beautiful music and chants, intensifying our sacrifice of praise with the gift of harmony, polyphony, in voice and instrument. We hold our missals, finger our rosary beads; sign ourselves with holy water, bend our knees to the ground; engage our bodies. Sight is delighted by a church beautifully adorned, complimented by the vestments and paraments of divine service.
Recalled in the antiphon for the Magnificat, today’s Gospel, in a very tangible way, shows how intimately the priesthood is connected to the transmission of the Faith. The priest is the sacerdos, from sacer (holy) and dare (to give). He is the giver of holy things. He is appointed by God to offer the sacrifice, sacrificium (that which is made holy), to the Lord and share it with the whole Church. No man can give that which he does not first possess. For this reason, it was necessary that Saint Thomas, the priest, see with his own eyes and touch with his own hands the risen Lord so that he might receive the faith, which he in turn passed on to so many. Saint Gregory the Great teaches that the doubting of the Disciple was changed into a witness of truth for our sake. Thomas’ incredulity was no accident, but used by God to demonstrate the shift which had occurred from the Old Testament priesthood to the priesthood of the New Covenant. The temple priest used to insert his fingers in the sacrifice being offered on the altar, and would sprinkle the blood of the victim in blessing.
By placing his fingers into the side of the risen Jesus, the new and eternal Sacrifice, Saint Thomas, by virtue of the priesthood bestowed on him in Christ, has sprinkled the seeds of faith, like so many drops of blood, upon two millennia of Christians who follow His teaching and example. So powerful are the hands of a priest, consecrated for this holy task.
Thomas’ doubt was turned to a profound faith. Remember in Chapter 14 of John’s Gospel, when our Lord Jesus says: “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Have faith in God and faith in me…” and that He is going to prepare a place for us and come back to take us with Him. It was Thomas who said “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” and Jesus told him “I am the way, the truth and the life.”
In the gift of His holy peace, the Lord indeed shows Thomas and all of us, in what manner we are to follow Him. This is the joy of Easter. Peace in knowing the Lord will return for us. Jesus also tells Thomas, once doubting, now believing: “Peace is my gift to you.” Christ does not give peace as the world gives it. In this world, there can be no lasting peace. We are not meant to have it here. Thomas touched the wounds of the Lord’s risen body, and believed Christ did not abandon us. We have the Eucharist and the priesthood, made perfect together at the sacrifice of the Mass, as the enduring promise of Holy Peace, even if our hearts are troubled and, at times, doubt. I imagine that whenever St. Thomas was tempted to doubt the truth of the Faith he had professed, all he had to do was look at his hands, and remember that day in the upper room, when those same hands were invited to touch the Lord. After all, it is in fact from the lips of Thomas that we receive the prayerful expression which surrounds the monstrance visible from the Nuns’ Choir and recited by devout Catholics at the elevation of the Sacred Host: “Dominus Meus et Deus Meus.;” “My Lord and my God!” Such a thought would certainly console me.
Think of the hands of the priest at Mass, ordinary in appearance, but extraordinary by virtue of their commission. Consider how they hold, elevate and distribute what were formerly ordinary bread and common wine, which have really and truly become the risen Body of the same Christ touched by Saint Thomas two thousand-plus years ago. Long after our Easter baskets have been emptied of their treats, and our chocolate bunnies have been broken and consumed, we are still left in the manner of newborn babes who long for the rational milk of the Faith. This sweetness will endure when all else sours. The Eucharist and the priesthood, given at the last Supper and consummated at Calvary give us lasting succor in a world which would rob us of spiritual comfort. Such is the power of the priesthood exercised by St. Thomas and handed-on in an unbroken line of succession since the apostles first laid hands on those who would follow them in the ministry. This laying-on of hands, this sacramental touch, has ordained men since the birth of the Church, so that we all might feel the healing touch of the sacraments, and be filled with peace and lasting joy.
