Intercessions ~ Fourth Sunday of Easter

On Good Shepherd Sunday,/ we contemplate the lamb/ an image of humankind lost and snared in the thicket,/ the thicket of our grasping,/ anger,/ hatred,/ and comfortable ignorance./ May we learn that we have been pursued./ rescued,/ and fed by God's love./ We pray to the Lord.

At the start of May,/ Mary's month,/ we ask for some new understanding of our own discipleship:/ how we might please God/ as God's own good servants./ We pray to the Lord.

Also in May/ we pray for those who celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance,/ asking for good health,/ safety and wellbeing./ We pray to the Lord.

During this time of great sickness,/ there are some who seem to be more interested in money,/ and anger over being inconvenienced./ We pray for the raising of conscience/ and a new sense of doing what is best for all of us./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the President of the United States/ and those in leadership around the world during these difficult times./ Bless the world with leaders who are listeners,/ learners,/ unselfish and balanced./ We pray to the Lord.

For the millions who are sick,/ for doctors and nurses and all who support the work of healing,/ For first-responders,/ police departments,/ the many who provide essential services,/ and those who are spiraling down into hardship and poverty./ We pray to the Lord.

At the Start of May ~ Mary's Month

As early as the 15th century, the Madonnari were artists who specialized in painting the Madonna—the Virgin Mary with the Infant Jesus. This 17th century, Italianized-Byzantine icon is found in London's Temple Gallery. How inviting! Even the rose-colored, velvet frame, with its diagonal corner joints, draws us to the "window" from which the Mother of God looks out—offering intimacy with herself and her Son.

As a newly ordained, I once heard a priest speak mockingly of another priest who referred to the Virgin Mary as Our Lady. When I asked him why he spoke disparagingly, he wrinkled his brow and said, "It's so old fashioned." To this day I don't know what that means. 

I think the title Our Lady is reflective of Mary's elegant loveliness. As a small act of reparation, I'll begin each of the short rosary meditations here with the appellation, Oh Lady. The little word "Oh" suggests wonder and happy surprise.

Our Father...

Oh Lady, may I live and move deeply in the atmosphere of humility, receptivity and self-gift you create surrounding Jesus.

Hail Mary...

O Lady, I contemplate your standing at heaven's window, calm and serene, interfacing with us who are full of fears.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, make us happy by accepting our prayers; bring to life dead hearts and longing souls.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, pray for our good health and safety—sustain the caregivers, protect the children, the elderly, the homeless and the poor.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, as we live beneath the night time stars, the full moon and the rising sun, may we desire all the more the inner light of your Son.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, standing in a golden light, may we live in the illumination of knowing the truth about ourselves—that we are each of us and all of us, God's children.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, I pray for all whose businesses are failing, who have been laid off, who cannot pay their bills, who have no emergency funds, whose lives are on hold these days of global sickness.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, at the start of May, the season of unfurling and flowering, may my heart green and grow in love for you and other people.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, I pray for the more than three million people who have been ill with this Covid virus and the two hundred and ten thousand who have died. For all who are sick, suffering or who grieve the loss of dear ones.

Hail Mary...

Oh Lady, protect me from the malice of enemies. Keep us from the horrors and waste of wars. Grant us joyful hearts and faces.

Hail Mary...

Glory be to the Father...

Prayer for the Kindling of the Flame

No luck in finding the name of the artist who painted this picture. I only see it indirectly referred to as: Woman's work, tending the fire. Someone (maybe even a disgruntled modern day woman) might say, "Yeah, that's all women are good for." But tending the hearth meant life for a Celtic family. The hearth was the place of the family's gathering, the place of warmth and prayer, where food was prepared. Tending the hearth meant the family was alive, safe and together.

It's said that there are still a few Celtic homes where the hearth-fire has not gone out for centuries. Just before the family retires for the night, the embers are gathered up into a cone. Early the next morning the mother spreads the embers which are still alive, and adding new fuel, kindles the flame. 

Here is a Celtic prayer a friend sent which not only understands that process (in using the word kindle) but also the symbolism of the hearth's flame. We might use the prayer when lighting a candle.

This morning, as I kindle the fire of my hearth,
I pray the flame of God's love may burn in my heart
and in the hearts of all I meet today.

I pray that no envy or malice,
no hatred or fear,
may smother the flame. 
I pray that indifference and apathy, 
contempt and pride, 
may not pour like cold water on the fire.

Instead, may the spark of God's love
light the love in my heart, 
that it may burn brightly through the day.

And may I warm those who are lonely,
whose hearts are cold and lifeless, 
so that all may know
the comfort of God's love.

Intercessions ~ Third Sunday of Easter

During this time of great sickness,/ we ask blessings for those who evidence the best in persons,/ and conversion for those who evidence antagonism,/ willful ignorance,/ carelessness,/ exploitation,/ profiteering and greed./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for those who are out of work,/ whose businesses are failing,/ who wait hours outside food pantries./ For those whose days are filled with,/ loneliness,/ anxiety and dread./ We pray to the Lord.

For those populations which are often forgotten and under-served in times of crisis:/ the disabled,/ prisoners,/ those in assisted living,/ nursing and group homes./ We ask for a society where no one is left behind./ We pray to the Lord.

These days of quarantine,/ social distancing,/ shutdown and lockdown,/ may we discover in some new way,/ the archetypal monk who is within each of us,/ embracing study,/ prayer/ heart-hospitality and personal ritual./ We pray to the Lord.

While we struggle mightily with this health crisis,/ in humility and solidarity,/ may we remember that much of the world lives in crisis as a permanent condition,/ where there is war,/ famine,/ drought,/ poverty and societal collapse./ We pray to the Lord.

Celebrating Earth Day this past week,/ we recall God's creation of the soil and the water,/ the plants,/ seeds,/ trees,/ birds/ and all the animals./ May we treasure and protect this living gift God has entrusted to our care./ We pray to the Lord.

The Easter Myrrh-Bearers ~ A Rosary Decade

Contemplating this marvelous icon of the Myrrh-Bearers on Easter Morning, you can click on the image and join the prayer.

Our Father...

The Gospel's Easter accounts vary. One woman, two women, three women and others—this doesn't matter. Only that, as at the Gospel's start, it is women, Mary and Elizabeth, who are most spiritually awake. Can we pray for a world that might be well-served by their insights and spiritual gifts. 

Hail Mary...

This splendid icon shows the pre-dawn sky with its stars still shining. Is there some place in my life, or the life of my family, that is awaiting the light Christ brings. 

Hail Mary...

Again, one angel, two angels, or simply a man—these details don't signify. What matters is that God is revealing himself inwardly in dazzling brightness, announcing the new life Christ lives now and wants so much to share with each human person.

Hail Mary...

Matthew's Gospel tells us there was an earthquake. Christ's Resurrection should shake my tiny world. Here we see the earth cracked and broken open—like a human heart, welcoming Christ, and breaking open in awareness, compassion and gratitude.

Hail Mary...

Here, eight soldiers have fallen down like dead men. They are dressed for battle: swords, shields and armour. Their spears are in disarray. We might want it to be otherwise, spend huge money to protect it, but there is only one real power—Christ's love for our weary world, and our response.

Hail Mary...

This Gospel scene takes place on Sunday morning. Where have these women been since Friday? They have not been home, hiding like the men, but carrying on in love, observing the Sabbath restrictions and preparing the ointment they will take with them to the tomb. To carry on in love is an Easter message.

Hail Mary...

Notice that the angels are pointing to the burial clothes of Jesus. They are not unwrapped and left behind, as if Jesus were simply a resuscitated corpse that needed to get free. But Jesus has passed through the shroud. He didn't need the stone rolled back because he couldn't get out otherwise, but only to show the women he was no longer there.

Hail Mary...

Angels always begin their conversations with, "Do not be afraid."  And these Easter angels are no different. Don't we need to hear this angel message these days more than ever? May we stay standing in courage and not cave in to cynicism or willful ignorance. 

Hail Mary...

We're told that the angel sat on the stone, as if to say, "Take that! Death is undone." These angels speak with Divine authority. Their sceptres, leaning to the right, suggest they are in motion, contrasted with the chaotic spears of the toppled soldiers. Their helicopter-like wings accompany their urgent message: "The one you are looking for among the dead, is alive. Now go and tell the others." 

Hail Mary...

These animated angels are pointing to the shroud as a teacher would point, so that we miss nothing. We see the napkin which covered the face of Jesus. St. John tells us that napkin was rolled up and put in a place by itself. Is this another image of death having been wrapped up and put away? And rather tidily at that.

Hail Mary...

Glory be to the Father...

Mid April Snow

Robins flying low over the snow-lawn
   looking for bare spots
   under bushes or
   the tall trees at the edge of the woods.

Turkeys roost in the tops of 
   broad-branched Hemlocks—
   I don't like that lazy hunters would exploit
   these easy targets.

A second snowfall,
   when heavy, wet clumps
   come down from the White Pines ninety feet
   to make me laugh
   and wonder if the earth is trying to clean itself.

The drive is blocked with broken pine branches—
   thoughts of  Christ's Christmas birthing
   this week of Easter rising.

The snow-carrying forsythia bending to the ground
   making its yellow even more intense,
   and the feeling that while this has happened
   countless times before,
   hopes that the flowers
   are not spoiled.

And peach buds are swelled,
   each snow-capped,
   faintest pink
   like prevenient grace.

Lighting the candle by the Holy Mother's Icon,
   a silent, feeling-request for light and warmth—
   our poor world,
   machinated and bleak.

Duccio's Believing Thomas

This is the Gospel traditionally read on this Sunday after Easter (John 20:19-31). It's the Sunday with all the names: Low Sunday (contrasted with last Sunday), Thomas Sunday, Second Sunday of Easter, Mercy Sunday. Again, we might think, "Oh I know that story!" But might we read it again during these troubling days. P.S. There are Muslims who can recite the entire Koran by heart.

When Duccio's Maesta Altarpiece was cut up, and its forty-six paintings sent all over the place, many of the paintings were further reduced, pieces sawed off top-bottom and sides. Why? Human stupidity? But this painting of Thomas meeting the Risen Jesus was spared the saw—hence the pointed ceiling. "Why can't we just leave well enough alone," the saying goes.

The painting is really titled The Incredulity of Thomas. The word incredulity means non-believing. Then we further misunderstand it  by coining the unfortunate phrase Doubting Thomas. I think that's very unfair and reflective of an immature spirituality. May I make three little suggestions.

One. May God preserve us all, but imagine even briefly, you learn of a dear one's death. You are deeply grieved. Perhaps you were even in attendance at the funeral. Then three days later you are told by reliable sources that the relative or friend has been seen alive and is well. Let's be honest—you're going to believe that ?!


Two. We are constantly asking for (or even demanding) signs from God. "Oh God, I don't know where to go, or what to say, or what to do—give me a sign." Isn't that what all these Catholics are hoping for as they wait on long lines to get into the medium's performance—they want signs.

Three. We give all our attention to Thomas' struggle with believing, while we miss the fact that he says the most important thing said to Jesus in the New Testament: "My Lord and my God." Can't do better than that.

Four. Someone might say, "Oh yeah, well what about Jesus' admonition: 'Thomas, you believe because you have seen me; blessed are those who have not seen, but have believed.'" God forbid that I should shake anyone's faith, but in New Testament 101, we'd learn that sometimes the early Church put words into the mouth of Jesus to encourage themselves. 

Maybe we could start a movement: Once and for all—let's be done with Doubting Thomas. He's believing Thomas! And surrounded as we are by all the bad-news, sad-news of late, may we pray to have faith such as this. My Lord and my God!

Intercessions ~ Second Sunday of Easter

We join Pope Francis in his Easter prayer:/ "May Christ our peace enlighten all who have responsibility in conflicts, that they may have the courage to support the appeal for an immediate global cease-fire in all corners of the world."/ We pray to the Lord.

There is a crisis of leadership in many parts of the world./ By the light of Christ's Rising,/ we ask for leaders who are free of insincerity,/ greed,/ narcissism,/ and incompetence in the face of great human suffering and planet destruction./ We pray to the Lord.

Today is Orthodox Easter./ May the churches of east and west/ echo the Emmaus-bound apostles,/ who realizing they had been in  the presence of the Risen Christ, said:/  "Were not our hearts burning within us."/ We pray to the Lord.

It is a difficult and tense time;/ people burdened and tested in new ways./ May we put forth the best that is within us,/ helping others in their need./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for all who are helping to save and heal the sick during this pandemic:/ doctors and nurses,/ lab workers,/ pharmacists,/ first responders,/ food producers/ and those whose work is done quietly and hidden in hospitals./ For those who are anxious for the wellbeing of loved ones./ We pray to the Lord.

On Mercy Sunday,/ in the Eastertime,/ we pray for the nearly 150,000 people who have died by coronavirus./ May they see the Lord face to face/ and be taken up into the wholeness of Christ's Rising./ We pray to the Lord.

Duccio's Meeting the Risen Jesus on the Road to Emmaus

Duccio's Maesta Altarpiece contains nine images related to Christ's Resurrection and the subsequent appearances of the Risen Jesus. Here is his depiction of the Gospel Account of the Apostles Meeting the Risen Jesus on the Road to Emmaus. 

The story is recounted in Luke 24:13-35. Could I suggest getting your bible out and having another look at the story. Someone might think, "Oh I already know that story." Read it again anyway, but pray this prayer first:

Risen Jesus,

I have broken open my gospel book,

like the breaking open of good bread,

because your nourishing word is there for me.

Wake me up, Jesus, to some word, some phrase, 

that's waiting to jump out and seize me

in some fresh way.

I want my heart to burn

 like the apostles burned with love for you,

 along my own Emmaus way.

That this story takes place along a road signals it is a story about transitioning—moving from here to there. But the movement is interior and spiritual. When I grasp this idea, then I have moved form being an admirer to being a disciple. A disciple is one who sets out to learn.

Duccio emphasizes this transition idea by having two kinds of pavement. The first, where the apostles meet Jesus, is a rough cobblestone road. Then, the road leading into the house, where they will go to stay with Jesus, is a smooth, herringbone patterned, paved road. 

The city of Emmaus is styled after any important Medieval city Duccio would have known. He has also depicted Jesus in the outfit of a typical pilgrim of his own day: staff, wide-brimmed hat, pouch and rough clothing. This is one of a number of times when the Risen Jesus is not recognized—remember Magdalene thinking Jesus was the gardener on Easter morning (John 20:1-18). Jesus isn't a resuscitated corpse; there is something new about him.

Ostensibly, the journey is to Emmaus, but what is it really? It is the journey of the soul coming to discover the Risen Christ. And this discovery happens gradually. This conversation of the apostles with Jesus happens over some time, doesn't it? Coming to know Christ is a gradual movement from spiritual infancy to a mature faith. Mature faith isn't the same as knowing a catechism inside-out or having the answer to every question.  That's not the same as knowing the Risen One.

Notice that the journey starts in a very human place. That's where life in Christ begins, in the human place. After all, God has gone to a great deal of trouble to come to be with us in the human place. This is the Incarnation.

These two apostles model for us how to come to Christ. Listen to them. They go on at length, sharing their disappointment. Maybe they were full of regrets for having missed so much of what Jesus had taught. But Jesus listens patiently and then puts his finger on it, telling them they are "foolish and sluggish of heart."

Then, (a good bible translation will tell us), Jesus opened  up the scriptures. Just as Jesus wants an opening up for you and for me too. Can you name a time in your life when you felt Christ really opened you up to something importantly new? Something so new you weren't your old self anymore. Something akin to the apostles, "Were not our hearts burning within us while He spoke on the way...?"

Then the apostles make the right request, "Stay with us." And Jesus responds. His answer is the broken bread—the Eucharistic Way. But the Eucharist isn't my personal "trip" with Jesus—it is for our transformation. When the bread is broken, they recognize Jesus and get up. It is as if they are experiencing their own resurrection. The text says, "Rising up the same hour they went back to Jerusalem and found the eleven." Wow!  They are new people. They are encouraged, with enlightened minds and enkindled hearts. They're energized and become sharers. 

Pope Benedict has said, "A Christian is a heart that sees and is moved." A Christian is a heart—a heart that sees? That sees Christ. That sees God's presence in my life story. That sees the wonders that are all around me. That sees the sufferers near and far (I am dismayed by Christians who don't know what's happening in the world). A heart that sees and is moved. Moved to what or where? Moved to compassion, openness, creativity, that moves out of the consumerist bubble-world we're encouraged to live in, to encounter. 

Easter Hymn to the Theotokos

Today is Monday in the Easter Octave. Easter is so big, there is so much to tell, it gets eight days of overflow in which to tell it. 

Here is the early 16th century painting of the Risen Christ announcing the Resurrection to his Mother.  It is a tiny image, smaller than a usual piece of paper, painted by Juan de Flandes as part of a many scene-d composition for Isabella, a Spanish Queen. Originally made up of forty-seven scenes of Jesus' life, twenty- seven have survived. 

There is no biblical account of Jesus addressing his mother after the Resurrection. Someone at some other time had the inventive, spiritual insight to imagine that even before the myrrh-bearers came to the tomb, Jesus had already gone to share with his Mother the news of his rising. That heart-story was handed on in some places within Europe from the Middle Ages and into the Renaissance. And why not? 

Notice how much the depiction echoes paintings of the Annunciation—Jesus is standing where Gabriel would usually stand and Mary is surprised while at her prayer. Angels are fascinated onlookers. Heaven is opened and the Spirit is present, symbolized in the upper left corner. 

The idea is understandable on an emotional Mother-Child level but has even greater significance if we remember that Mary is the first disciple (the first to say yes to Jesus). And so the painting might well be imaging Christ come to reveal and address himself to each of us. We're  in the long line of disciples of which Mary is in the lead. We're as eager as she, to look up, to see him and to know him in the newness of Easter—his having gone through death to a newness of life—now, today! Don't just be a religious admire-r, but ask, what might this mean for me personally?

And here is a Paschal Hymn to the Theotokos (Mother of God) sung in Eastern Christian churches. The hymn begins with an Angel (or is it Christ himself?) making the Easter announcement to Mary.

The Angel cried to the Lady full of grace:

Rejoice, O Pure Virgin! I say:

Rejoice! Your Son is risen from His three days in the tomb!

With Himself He has raised all the dead!

Rejoice, all ye people!

Shine! Shine! Shine, O New Jerusalem!

The glory of the Lord has shone on you!

Dance now and be glad, O Zion!

Be radiant, O Pure Theotokos, in the Resurrection of Your Son!

An Easter Rosary Before the Grünewald Risen Christ

We've spent much of Lent thinking about and praying before images of Jesus' Passion taken from Duccio di Buoninsegna's Maesta Altarpiece painted in the early 14th century for the Cathedral of Siena, Italy. Now, this painting of Christ's Easter Rising is taken from an altarpiece painted in Alsace, France, by Johannes Grunewald who lived about two hundred years later. He created this image (part of a much larger and complex altarpiece) for the Monastery of St. Anthony where the monks maintained a hospital for plague victims and others suffering from life threatening skin diseases.

The artist isn't trying to do what a camera would have done, but offering the dying patients a reason to be encouraged and comforted. We're living in our own pandemic today. May I encourage us to have a long look a the painting. Take in all the details you can find. Pope Benedict wrote: "The Christian is a heart that sees and is moved." 

You can click on the Easter painting to join the prayer audibly if you'd like.

Our Father...

This image of Jesus' Resurrection was painted for the patients of the Isenheim Monastery which treated plague victims and those suffering from ergotism, a gangrenous skin inflammation caused by a rye fungus. Were the sick consoled by this image of Jesus whose whole body is suspended in a halo? I pray for our world today, so in need of healing.

Hail Mary...

Here, we see Jesus rising while the night sky is still full of stars. His burial shroud becomes a kind of yellow, orange and red fireball. In the Springtime, color returns to the bleak and gray landscape. It is a sign that reminds us, "See, we can change." 

Hail Mary...

The top of Jesus' tomb has been pushed up, over and off. It had been put in place on Good Friday afternoon as the final word— sealing Jesus away in death. We pray for those who are silenced, done away with, turned away from, sent back, made invisible.

Hail Mary...

The gospel tells us that soldier-guards were stationed at the tomb to prevent a disciple from stealing the body of Jesus. Here we  see the armor-wearing, armor-carrying guards, disempowered and blinded by the light of the Resurrection. Armies, armies, armies - while health systems are in disarray, schools fail, the poorest can't get a leg up and minorities are disproportionately sickened and killed by coronavirus.

Hail Mary...

The moment of the Resurrection is not recorded in the Gospels. But here, the artists have used vivid imagination in depicting it.  It's not that Jesus has simply been resuscitated and is now in a perfect body, but he has been resurrected, transfigured and ascended all at once. The Easter Christ is something new—a spiritual body. Look closely at the face of Jesus—it is a face of light. Like God's face.

Hail Mary...

We don't know how long it was before dawn when the myrrh-bearing women showed up to finish the embalming of Jesus. But when they did arrive, they were expecting death. Instead they experienced the surprise of God. Mother Teresa would say, "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." Have I ever been surprised by God in some life-changing way? 

Hail Mary...

One tradition says that the Mother of Jesus was not among the myrrh-bearing women because she had already met the risen Jesus—that she had no need to go to the tomb as Jesus had gone to her first. We can believe that. We might even say, "Why not?" The heart has its reasons.

Hail Mary...

A great depth of love is being revealed these coronavirus days: one hundred priests and over one hundred doctors have died in Italy these few weeks. Some doctors and nurses work fourteen hour shifts and are living apart from their families for fear of infecting them. Some people are managing food distribution centers where thousands have been thrust into poverty for the loss of their jobs. We might have been taught that God is all- knowing, all-present, all-powerful. But it's all-love that blasts Jesus out of this tomb. 

Hail Mary...

The awful Good Friday wounds of Jesus, which tore open his hands, feet and side, are now radiating and bright. They seem to mingle with the light-bearing stars and planets. Have I ever experienced the healing of a wound—an inner wound? Maybe the old wound, with its pain and sorrow, has become a source of strength, and rather than embittering me, has been transformed into creativity and compassion for fellow sufferers. 

Hail Mary...

Behind Jesus, as if suspended in air, is an enormous boulder. It's hard to say what it's doing there. It seems to be too large to have been the stone at the entrance of the tomb which the myrrh-bearers would need rolled back. I'd suggest that it is purely symbolic.  Perhaps it is the stone that presses down and leaves me (us) afraid, negative, distracted, sleepless and exhausted. I might name it for myself, as I ponder Jesus, who seems to be ready to dance on it.

Hail Mary...

Glory be to the Father...

Intercessions ~ Easter Sunday

At Easter/ we pray for the health care providers and all who through stress and fatigue/ tend to the sick./ For those who quietly provide the many services needed for society to continue functioning./ We pray to the Lord.

We live in a throwaway culture./ During this epidemic/ we pray for those who are most vulnerable and more likely to be ignored or forgotten:/ the elderly and those who live in poverty./ We pray to the Lord.

At Easter,/ we pray for those who lead around the world and in the life of the Church./ In Christ's Risen Light,/ may lies,/ secrets,/ distraction/ and the love of money remain far from them./ We pray to the Lord.

At Easter,/ we pray for our families and friends,/ asking for health,/ safety and inner peace./ For those who are living apart from loved ones./ For those who are hospitalized or sick at home./ We pray to the Lord.

At Easter,/ as the world is on its knees,/ we pray boldly for an end of this virus,/for the healing of our planet,/ justice for the poor and the renewal of faith./ We pray to the Lord.

Pope Benedict has said,/ "The Christian is a heart that sees and is moved."/ May we learn this spiritual wisdom./ We pray to the Lord.

Lastly,/ we pray for all who have died since last Easter,/ mindful of the many thousands who have died from this Coronavirus epidemic./ We pray for mourners around the world./ We pray to the Lord.

Duccio ~ Christ's Deposition

This is scene twenty-one from Duccio's Passion Narrative found on the back of the Maesta Altarpiece. It is called The Deposition. The word deposition means, to topple or overthrow a monarch. Jesus is unwanted, thrown down or thrown away. That makes the painting sadder still, doesn't it?

We don't find the account of the deposition in any of the four gospels—only that Pilate allowed Joseph of Arimathea to take away the body of Jesus for burial. This painting has as its source the extra canonical Gospel of Nicodemus: Mary kisses the wounds of Jesus; Nicodemus removes the nails. The apostle John supports Jesus' lifeless body as Joseph of Arimathea carefully lowers it into Mary's arms. The body of Jesus was then placed on a stone where it was quickly prepared for burial. That stone is found today inside the entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. 

Here are some aspects of the painting we might want to notice. The background is gold so we won't be distracted with landscape. The previous thirteen scenes show Jesus surrounded by male enemies, while here he is surrounded by women disciples. Their faces and raised, covered hands, are classic images of profound grief. Notice how Mary reaches out, as if to "catch" her son. Her eyes look into the closed eyes of Jesus. This positioning of Mary and Jesus echoes the Eleusa icon of the Mother of God where she is posed cheek-to-cheek with her Infant Son. There is yearning in her reaching. Mary's right arm and Jesus' left arm are entwined. 

Television spots are filled with pictures of grief stricken people these days: the young doctor who breaks down when he walks in the door and can't hold his toddler son who has rushed to welcome him home, the masked and quarantined man who looks out at a loved one through glass, the health care worker who stands in front of the refrigerator truck filling up with corpses. There's nothing to do—just to hold the scenes. Our culture suggests distracting or numbing ourselves—"get on with it," "suck it up." I'd say, just hold it. Holding honors the scene for what it is and enriches and expands the heart.

A Rosary Decade Before Duccio's Last Supper

Here is Duccio's painting of The Last Supper. It is one of twenty- one images found on the back of the Maesta Altarpiece. You can click on the painting if you'd like to join in today's rosary decade.

Our Father...

We see the apostle John leaning against Jesus during the supper. The Gospels tell us that he leaned against Jesus' chest. He is listening to Jesus' heart. Can I imagine taking the apostle's place and listening for that heartbeat of God, which beats for me and each human person?

Hail Mary...

There is wine at the Passover meal. There is wine at every Mass. It is the Jewish symbol of God's joyful and abundant presence. In the life of the Church, do we live as if we believe that? Or are we just law abiding and dutiful observers?

Hail Mary...

The apostles are not observing social distancing as we are in our own day. May we live lives centered on Christ, which doesn't observe distancing of the heart, but lives in close solidarity with the world, often stressed and suffering.

Hail Mary...

The apostles are eating the flat, yeastless Passover Bread. In the Exodus story, the bread had to be made quickly, there was no time to wait for yeast to rise. I don't have the past; it is gone forever. Nor do I have the future. All I have is time - right now time. May I not waste it.

Hail Mary...

Here, we see that curtain rolled up over the horizontal pole running the width of the upper room. The curtain has been drawn up - revealing the love of God in Christ's self-gift which begins in the new depth of Holy Thursday night. That self-gift is made an experience for us in the bread and the wine.

Hail Mary...

Judas is in the front row, on the long bench, second from the left. He has received his First Communion and will leave the room before the meal is ended. The others will disperse in fear, leaving only John and Jesus' Mother to stay with Jesus until the end. May my heart never be ruled by anxieties.

Hail Mary...

St. Luke tells us that the apostles argued about who is the greatest at this Last Supper. How delusional we are. We often use the words great and greatest in speaking about ourselves nationally: greatest military, greatest medicine, greatest freedoms, greatest achievements, greatest possibilities for advancement. Before God, that means nothing. God only cares that we be great in compassion, great in truth, great in justice, great in mercy - indeed - great in humility.

Hail Mary...

Duccio doesn't spend a lot of time depicting the table settings and food here. It's a pretty sparse table at that. Maybe he doesn't want to distract us from the inner reality, which is the superabundant suffering-love of Jesus.

Hail Mary...

Duccio also leaves out half the haloes. All those golden circles would be a bit much. But what about my halo and the halo around my home. "Oh, I'm no saint" lots of people say. We should be embarrassed to say that. Truth be told,  not a few Christians think sanctity means, too good to be true. Maybe our ideas about holiness are immature or impoverished.

Hail Mary...

This supper was celebrated under a bright Passover Moon. The Exodus took place under the full moon so the Hebrews could see where they were going as they fled Egypt. Do I know where I'm going? Maybe we can't know, because each day brings its own challenges and invitations. But I can tell if I am going more deeply into the heart of Christ - which is go more deeply into awareness, mercy, gratitude and compassion.

Hail Mary...

Glory be to the Father...

Duccio's Christ Before Pilate Again ~ And Jesus Is Mad?

This is one of seven Passion Narrative images taken from the reverse of Duccio's Maesta Altarpiece in which Jesus is standing bound before a power-leader of religion or state. In three of those seven paintings, Jesus is standing before Pontius Pilate. Indeed, this painting's title reflects that repeat appearance: Christ Before Pilate Again. (Luke 23:11-16)

Here, Pilate is seated on his high  platform. His golden-leafed crown lets everyone know he's Caesar's man—that he has lots of power and authority. Rome is backing him up, literally. In all of these paintings from the Agony in the Garden through The Road to Calvary, there are these helmeted soldiers with their spears pointed up in the air like missiles ready to be sent off on a test launch or to crush an enemy. We must pity these soldiers as they are all young. The one right behind the hand-bound Jesus even carries a large shield. What's that about? Some men like power displays: big desks, uniforms with lapets and rows of medals, insignia bearing hats, titles, wild signatures, salutes. Pope Francis has minimized all of that for himself.

But what stands out here is that Jesus' clothes have changed. In all the other paintings where Jesus stands before an accuser, Jesus is wearing a red tunic and dark blue mantle. The opposite of Pilate's outfit. Here, however, Jesus (barefoot) is wearing only a white tunic. He has been dressed in the clothing of a mad man. "The men in the white coats are coming to take me away," to the white hospital where people wear white hospital gowns.  This might well be the topic of whispered conversation taking place outside, beyond the governors' columned office—"Jesus is crazy!"

Jesus is mad!? I don't think so.
The inconvenient child never sees the light of day...
  And Jesus is mad?
We cause animal and plant species to go extinct...
  And Jesus is mad?
The plastic dumped into the oceans will soon outweigh the fish...
  And Jesus is mad?
Like foolish boys, we point bomb laden missiles into the air while children don't have food...
  And Jesus is mad? 
We discover that Coronavirus is more deadly in poor neighborhoods and cities...
  And Jesus is mad?
We think we're great because the stock market numbers go up, up, up...
  And Jesus is mad?
We obsess about our weight, perfect bowel function, the best night's sleep and no wrinkles around our eyes...
  And Jesus is mad?
We have the most of anyone, but we're not the happiest...
  And Jesus is mad?

Oh Jesus, you're not mad; we are. Forgive. Heal. Restore. Renew.

Tuesday in Holy Week ~ An Audio Decade Before the Icon of Our Lady of Corfu

A Holy Week Rosary-Decade in a Time of Health Crisis

"It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."

Our Father...

At the start of Holy Week, I pray for the people who are separated from loved ones who are hospitalized. And for the many who are working long hours and away from home.

Hail Mary...

For the millions of people who are self-isolating, as a gift to the larger society. In our isolation, like monks, may we learn something new about ourselves and God.

Hail Mary...

People who are out of work are being reduced to sudden poverty. There are food pantry lines that are miles long. We pray for those who find themselves in dire need, and for those who help to "feed the hungry."

Hail Mary...

May we learn that national pride is not determined by any greatness other than the greatness of our coming together as a people who care for others, as Christ has revealed.

Hail Mary...

I pray for those who are working through their fear and fatigue to help heal the sick. May I be healed of any bitter negativity during this challenging and disruptive time.

Hail Mary...

I pray for families stricken with grief at the loss of a loved one and for the many who now find themselves in financial difficulty. 

Hail Mary...

Behind the front line care workers are those who are performing the essential work that keeps a society functioning. Often their work is selfless and hidden. I ask blessing for them.

Hail Mary...

Our unity is always under threat. May we be creators of fellowship, turning a deaf ear to the angry blamers, scoffers and dividers who weaken family, church or national life.

Hail Mary...

May we not lose our awareness that this is a global crisis. The suffering is very great in other parts of the world. 

Hail Mary...

Calling this pandemic, God's judgment on sin, is immature religion and a projection of resentment towards others. The only judgment is our judgment about the things that matter deeply to our continued life on this planet. May we learn well.

Hail Mary...

Glory be to the Father...

Palm Sunday Gift

Many of us won't be able to participate in Mass this weekend because of the health crisis in which we find ourselves these days. So I thought I'd use our space here to find you and to share these pussywillow branches with you. They are an encouraging sign of renewal, hope and new life. I send them with every good wish and a blessing for your family and every family in the world where there is anxiety, fatigue, sickness, loneliness or stress.

Were we at the Palm Sunday Mass we'd have heard St. Matthew's familiar Gospel account (21:1-11) of Jesus' Entry into Jerusalem. But the verse that stands out for me today is this: "Most of the crowd spread their garments on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road."

If you heard yesterday's audio-post, you might remember the thoughts about the withered tree Duccio placed behind Jesus' halo. My only fear is that I would come to the end of my life never having been fruitful in Christ. But looking again, by contrast, we see two other trees still further behind—tall, leafed-out and green. Young boys are scrambling up the trees to cut the branches they'll lay down on the road. 

But what does it mean? It means, that along with the pussywillow branch, I offer this prayer for you:

O Christ our Saviour,

 Christ, the tree of our ascent,

may we move

 up and out

 of spiritual infancy,

to maturity of faith—

that I would live my own unique life

as truthfully, generously and beautifully, 

as you, Jesus, lived yours. 

While We Are Away From Palm Sunday Mass ~ Duccio's Jesus' Entry Into Jerusalem

Intercessions ~ Palm Sunday

Many of us are away from Mass this Palm Sunday because of the world health crisis./ We pray for all the people with whom we'd normally worship today;/ may they be safe and well./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for Pope Francis,/ who recently said that this time is not about God's judgement,/ but our judgement about the things that truly matter./ May human hearts be transformed to mercy,/ compassion and love./ We pray to the Lord.

For the President of the United States/ who says frequently these days,/ "We are all in this together."/ May we learn in new ways the depth of what it means to be part of God's global community./ We pray to the Lord.

The health care providers are working themselves to exhaustion:/ the doctors,/ nurses/ and all who support the work of caring for the sick./ We pray for them and their loved ones./ We pray to the Lord.

Some people are not being helpful these days,/ playing politics,/ defying new regulations,/ looking to make money,/ hoarding,/ acting recklessly./ May consciences evolve by God's light./ We pray to the Lord.

We pray for the well-being of our families and friends./ For the sick/ and the many who have died recently by this terrible disease./ For the newly afflicted countries/ lacking the resources needed to help the sick./ We pray to the Lord.

Joining Pope Francis in Prayer for the World

Recently, during the Coronavirus health crisis,  Pope Francis prayed for the whole world outside St. Peter's in Rome. He prayed in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament and alongside a miraculous crucifix and the Salus Populi icon of the Mother of God. To hear the Litany of Supplication, click on the photograph of Pope Francis blessing the world.

Praying in Solitude ~ Santo Stefano ~ Assisi

This is the interior of the early 12th century church of Santo Stefano in Assisi, Italy. When I made my three month sabbatical some years ago, I offered Mass here, alone most mornings, as the church is above and at the edge of Assisi away from the noisy, tourist crowds below. It is charmingly said, that when Saint Francis died on the evening of October 3, 1226, the three small bells of the church rang spontaneously.

I'm thinking that now, during the Coronavirus lockdown, no one is offering Mass here, as is also true of many churches and chapels in the United States and in other parts of the world. So maybe you'd like to imagine entering this dear church with its soft light, come to pray deeply the words of this lovely Eucharistic hymn.

O Food to pilgrims given, 
O Bread of life from heaven,
O Manna from on high! 
We hunger; Lord, supply us,
nor thy delights deny us,
whose hearts to thee draw nigh.

O stream of love past telling,
O purest fountain, welling
from out the Savior's side!
We faint with thirst; revive us,
of thine abundance give us,
and all we need provide.

O Jesus, by thee bidden,
we here adore thee, hidden
in forms of bread and wine.
Grant when the veil is riven,
we may behold, in heaven,
thy countenance divine.