Hosanna in the Highest

Having just read together St. Mark’s powerful account of the Lord’s Passion, it might be easy to forget that at the start of Mass today we had another Gospel reading: the story of Jesus’s entrance into Jerusalem. In that passage, we heard a word that is both familiar and foreign to us: “Hosanna”. Every Sunday, we sing or say that word before the Eucharistic prayer, echoing the cry of the people of Jerusalem as Jesus entered their city: “Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”

But what does “Hosanna” mean? Obviously, it’s a word of celebration; that much is clear from the Gospel. In Jesus’s day, the word was used in the way we might say, “Praise God! Glory be!” But “Hosanna” has an older meaning, as well, that we should know. “Hosanna” originally was an abbreviated prayer, a blending of two words that meant “save” or “rescue” and “now”. In the psalms, for example, “Hosanna” meant “Save us, Lord – now!”

Entry of Christ into Jerusalem (c. 1440) by Pietro di Giovanni d'Ambrogio

Keeping in mind these two meanings – a cry of celebration, and a cry for salvation – we can better understand the meaning of our liturgy today. The crowds in the Gospel greeted Jesus as the Messiah, the rightful Jewish king, and we hail him as the Savior, the Son of God. They welcomed him with joy, expecting him to bring earthly deliverance: to defeat Israel’s foes and establish a new reign of peace. We praise him with reverence, recognizing that he came not to conquer in earthly terms, but to deliver us from ancient enemy of sin and establish an eternal reign of peace. In faith, we can understand and, yes, celebrate what the crowds could not have foreseen: that this king has come not to conquer but to die, in order to give life to us.

Friends, let us not treat this week like any other: let us make it truly “holy”, adopting a spirit of prayer and meditation so that we can better understand all that Jesus has done for us. Reread the Passion account, pray through the Stations of the Cross, contemplate a crucifix for a while; and as you do so, let yourself be guided by that word that we say today, and at every Mass. “Hosanna!” – that is, “Praise you, Jesus!” “Save us, Lord – now!”

Life Springs Forth

One of the ways that I try stay spiritually grounded is to give myself frequent visual reminders of my faith – little things that I can see throughout the day to remind me of what’s most important. For example, I like to use holy cards as bookmarks when I read. On my keychain, I have miniature images of two favorite saints of mine. And throughout the year, I like to use religious images as the wallpaper on my phone. This Lent, each time I have picked up my phone, I have seen an image of a piece of religious art that is one of my all-time favorites. It is the mosaic on the inside of the dome of the Basilica of St. Clement: a beautiful vine that weaves and circles throughout the space of the basilica apse, blossoming with ornate flowers and sheltering birds of all kinds. At all parts of the vine, life springs forth – and right in the middle, the source of it all, is Jesus hanging on the Cross.

It might seem strange to think of the Lord’s Cross as something life-giving. At first glance, we see the opposite – profound suffering and injustice, the painful and torturous death of a man wrongly condemned. At a slightly deeper level, perhaps we also see the result of sin. The Christian faith teaches us that Jesus went to the Cross because of sins: not his own, but ours, and those of all the world. When we see the Cross of Jesus, therefore, we see our own sinfulness, and what our sins have made. Jesus’s suffering is all the more terrible when we realize our sins are its cause. But it is important not to stop there, lest we be tempted to despair. At the deepest level, the level of faith, the Cross is also revealed as the sign of God’s love for sinners, and the very means by which he saves us from our sins. In this way, then, when we look upon the Lord’s death on the Cross, we can see with eyes of faith how new life springs forth from it: our life.

The Apse Mosaic of the Basilica of Saint Clement in Rome
Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons, image by Dnalor_01, license CC-BY-SA 3.0

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks to the disciples about his own interior approach to the Cross that awaits him. On the one hand, he admits that its future prospect makes him feel “troubled.” Perfectly understandable – how could it not? Yet, Jesus is also clear that the Cross will be the fullest way for him to reach out to all persons. All of those who had not seen or heard him in his earthly ministry, all of those who desired still to encounter him, like the Greeks who approach the disciples at the beginning of today’s passage, or even we ourselves who live two millennia later – when we look upon the Cross, we see in it the ultimate truth of who Jesus is and the purpose for which he came. This is also why Jesus says the Cross will be the moment he is “glorified.” In seeing the Son of Man lifted up, our human eyes also behold the Son of God made visible; in faith, we see very moment in which God-made-Man lays down his life for us, his friends. The Cross then is at once terrible and glorious – a reminder of our sinfulness but even more the sign of our salvation.

How helpful these inner thoughts and sentiments of Jesus can be for us as we approach the crosses of our lives! The situations in which the Cross comes to us are many and varied: dealing with physical pain or illness; facing a difficult reality or decision we do not agree with; striving to be charitable or forgiving to someone who seems not to deserve it; the hardships that sometimes come in marriage or family, or various challenges of the workplace or with friend groups; accepting a mystery of our faith or a teaching of our Church that we struggle to accept. All of these and more are moments of real suffering; there’s no getting around that. But when we look at these trials also through the eyes of faith – when we look at them as a chance to share in the Lord’s Cross – these sufferings can also be redemptive and even life-giving as well.

When we choose to bear our sufferings well, with patience and acceptance, we follow in the footsteps of Jesus. Our faith becomes concrete and more fully realized; we are able to bear witness to the world to the truth of God and to his love made present in us in a deeper way than before. The world is full of plenty of people who question the reality of faith, or the value it has in moments of difficulty; when we suffer well, we can demonstrate to others the sincerity of our faith, and the great truth we find in it that gives our sufferings meanings. Suffering also affords us the chance for greater growth. Like the grain of wheat that falls to the ground in order to bear fruit, sometimes there are aspects of our lives that need to pass away so that new growth can happen: sinful habits; distorted ways of thinking; broken cycles of acting in relationship with others; or even interior parts of ourselves that need to be pruned in order to be transformed.

Most importantly, though, suffering gives us a chance to participate more fully in the Cross of Jesus. This world and its present reality, with its joys and its sorrows, are not all there is. We have been made ultimately for something far greater. From the little deaths of our daily sufferings, we are more closely transformed into the image of the Son, and so able to become ever more ready for the final death by which we hope to share in his Resurrected life. The Cross draws us more closely to Jesus, forms us into his more faithful servants, and makes us worthy for future glory: “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me.”

Friends, as you entered church today, you saw that Holy Week draws near. With the central Crucifix in our sanctuary and the images of the saints now veiled, we are invited to turn our attention to the inside, especially to our own inner approach to sharing in the mystery of suffering. Where are you encountering the Cross of Jesus? Are you rejecting it, or are you trying to embrace it, accepting it from Jesus as a way to follow him? Do you see in it only sorrow and death, or is there something redemptive, even life-giving there as well?

In the Eucharist we prepare to celebrate, the mystery of the Lord’s Cross is made real for us anew. May the heavenly grace of this sacrament assist us each day, that the sufferings of this present life might spring forth even now with the glorious new life of heaven.

When Disaster Strikes

This past week, my sister and her three children came to visit my parents in Little Rock. I was able to go and spend my day off with them. My niece and nephews are 6, 4, and almost 2, and as you might imagine, it is constant activity with them: playing games, coloring pictures, building things out of blocks. The funny thing about playing with kids is how their play often involves a certain love for destruction. The toy airplane that flies through the air inevitably crashes, the race car skids out of control, the tower that was just built out of blocks gets knocked down in grand fashion. Even at a young age, we are aware that disaster can strike at any time.

As adults, we know this only too well. It has been a year since the disaster of the Covid pandemic turned our world upside down; in fact, it was this weekend a year ago that I announced that public Masses would be suspended for the foreseeable future. And in our personal lives too, we know how traumatic it can be when suddenly a loved one receives a difficult diagnosis, or a friend loses their job, or we experience some other sudden sorrow and heartache. Such moments are not only challenging emotionally; they can be spiritually disorienting as well. Sometimes, they can even lead to a crisis of faith. Why is God permitting this terrible thing?

Our readings today give us an insight into how to answer that question. We hear about two terrible events: in the reading from Second Chronicles, we are told about the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian captivity, and in the Gospel, Jesus predicts his own future crucifixion and death. But in both instances, we are told how God brings forth something good from the evil situation. In the first reading, the Israelite people are able to return to their city and rebuild it, now with a deeper awareness of their dependence upon God. And in the Gospel, Jesus explains that the Cross, although terrible, will also be the means of salvation for all who believe in it. The point is that God’s love is always present, always enduring, even in what is terrible or disastrous, and in fact, sometimes he is using those very things to bring about something new.

Gebhard Fugel, By the Waters of Babylon (c. 1920)

To be sure, not every disastrous thing is attributed to God directly. Often, our own poor choices are to blame: greed, lust, anger, fear, pride, hardheartedness – these emanate from the human heart, and our love for destruction means we reap what we sow, and others as well. And, of course, there are some disasters in which no one is at fault: natural disasters, or the continued pandemic, for example. But it is also true that nothing happens which God does not permit. When a terrible thing happens then, on the one hand it’s not correct to say, “God is punishing me,” but on the other, “God is allowing me to experience this for some reason, even if I don’t know what it is.”

In any disaster, therefore – public or private, communal or individual, the result of sin or something much more perplexing – what’s important is to consider our response. Will this terrible thing lead me to turn toward God or away from him? Am I able to believe in his love for me only when I experience good things or even as I experience this bad thing too? Do I trust that God can use this in some way for my own good, even if I can’t understand how right now?

I am reminded of another story about my niece and nephews that might be an example of what I mean. About a year ago, my sister had to take the three kids to the doctor for their inoculations, and each of them had a different response. The youngest, the baby, was distraught at the pain and unable to understand why it would happen: why would Mommy possibly allow this person with the pointy needle to prick me and make me hurt? The middle child understood the reason a little better: it would keep him from getting sick, but still it was painful and scary, and so he got upset. The oldest child handled it the best: the needle was frightening and no fun to experience, but she understood that her mother loved her and that she was allowing this to happen for her own good.

Perhaps we can think of the painful and sorrowful situations of our own life in this sort of way. Often what appears to us to be utter disaster can be the beginning of something new and even beneficial, even if we don’t understand how. Of course, whether we can recognize this depends upon the maturity of our faith. A person of deep faith will still experience very real sorrow and heartache, but they will also be able to handle those things better because they have trust in God and believe that what is happening is being permitted to happen in some way for their own good.

Friends, today’s Gospel reminds us of the ultimate purpose that God has for anything that happens to us: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.” The disasters and sorrows and trials of our lives are all very much worth it – if they lead us to eternal life. And as Jesus tells Nicodemus, that depends upon whether we believe – whether we are ready to turn toward God, to believe in his Son, to come to his Light and live in his Truth, so that one day we may receive what he has eternally prepared for those who do.

Cleansing Our Temples: 12 Tips on Confession

The days are getting longer and warmer. Spring is in the air. This time of year, I always feel inspired to do a little spring cleaning – not just to actually clean, but to go through my things and see what I no longer need. Living more simply often means living more happily.

Lent is a great time to do this: to look at the stuff that has accumulated that we don’t need – whether material things, like books or clothes, or spiritual ones, like sins and bad habits. In today’s Gospel, Jesus cleanses the Temple. As ardently as he sought to purify his Father’s house, he even more ardently desires to purify us as well, we who are temples of the Holy Spirit, as St. Paul tells us. Our mother the Church calls us to do a little spiritual house-cleaning, at least once a year: to unburden ourselves of what has accumulated in our souls, to give it over to God, and to hear the healing words of God’s mercy spoken to us. The Sacrament of Penance, Reconciliation, Confession – it goes by different names but whatever we call it, it is one of God’s greatest gifts and one of the most important pieces of our spiritual well-being. When we confess our sins and receive sacramental absolution, we are once again purified by the saving blood of the Cross and restored to right relationship with the Lord.

Expulsion of the Moneychangers from the Temple (c. 1675) by Luca Giordano

Today, I would like to share a few tips on how to make a good confession. I hope they are especially timely since we have our Lenten Penitential Service this coming Thursday at 6:30 p.m. here in the church. If you can’t make it this Thursday, I hope you do avail yourself of this great sacrament in the next few weeks. I guarantee it will make your Easter a more blessed one.

1. Why do we confess to a priest? Because Jesus commanded it. “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained” (Jn 20:23). When we confess our sins to a priest, we confess them to Jesus. In confession, it is Jesus who acts through the priest, using him as an instrument to give us his mercy in a clear, perceptible way. The priest also is a representative of the whole Body of Christ that was harmed by our sins and who welcomes us back into the fullness of grace.

2. Examine your conscience thoroughly before you enter the confessional. Have an idea of what you want to say; it’s not helpful if you’re trying to think on the spot. If you have trouble remembering, take a deep breath and reflect; or feel free to write them down and read from a list. That’s not a problem – just make sure you destroy the list afterward!

3. Start your confession by mentioning how long it has been since your last confession and what your state in life is. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been two months since my last confession. I’m a 60-year-old father and grandfather.” Or “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been three weeks since my last confession. I’m a 25-year-old single woman.” You don’t have to reveal your complete identity, but providing a short description of your state in life gives the priest some context for the sins you will confess.

4. What must we confess? All mortal sins in kind and number. “Mortal sins” are sins that are gravely wrong which we do knowingly and deliberately and which therefore separate us from God’s grace. “Kind” is the nature of the sin: e.g. “I missed Sunday Mass because I was lazy,” “I ate meat even though I knew it was a Friday in Lent,” “I looked at impure pictures on the internet,” “I drank immoderately.” “Number” is how many times you did those things. If you can’t remember exactly, give an approximate idea (“a few times since my last confession”) or at least its frequency (“probably about once a week”). In addition to all of our mortal sins, we can also confess venial sins generally, without the number.

5. It is helpful to say first the sin that you most feel guilty about or are afraid of confessing. It makes the rest of your confession easier, and it gives the priest time to think of a word of helpful advice. We also can usually tell if you are hesitating about saying something, so not holding back gets to the heart of your confession more quickly. Never hold back a sin out of shame or fear; it will corrupt your whole confession, and you won’t be forgiven of that sin or any other!

6. Giving some context for your sins can be helpful, but the priest usually doesn’t need to hear the whole story. Try to be direct, precise, and brief when you tell your sins, especially if you know Mass will be starting shortly, or if there are others waiting behind you in line. At the same time, it’s important not to be too vague. “Father, I sinned in word and action.” Okay, how? “I watched something bad.” That could mean a lot of things: a video with foul language, pornography, an overly violent movie? “I had bad thoughts.” Impure thoughts, hateful thoughts, violent thoughts? About yourself or another? Again, we don’t have to describe the whole scenario, but it’s important to give enough information that the priest knows what we’re talking about.

7. It is important to realize that emotions and sins don’t always go together. You may feel bad about having had to reprimand your child, for example, but maybe it was the right thing to do. Just because you feel bad, doesn’t mean you necessarily need to confess it, but look underneath that bad emotion to see if you did something wrong. It also can happen that if we are habitually committing a serious sin – a sexual sin, for example, or missing Mass on Sunday, or receiving the Eucharist unworthily – we may no longer feel bad about it, but it is still doing us grave harm every time.

8. Be sure to confess your sins, not other people’s sins. You aren’t there to explain about why your daughter did something that made you get angry, or why your neighbor deserved the uncharitable comment that you said. Focus on yourself and your relationship with God. It’s also not necessary to tell the priest that you know what you did is wrong and you’re trying to be better. We assume that already – that’s why you’ve come to confession, praise God!

9. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is about receiving mercy; it is not the time to ask for life counsel or have a chat about your spiritual life. We priests are glad to do those things, but it’s best they are done outside of the sacrament. Make an appointment when the priest has more time, when Mass isn’t starting in a few minutes, and when there aren’t people waiting behind you in line. Remember that confession can always be done during such an appointment if needed.

10. Realize that whatever you tell the priest in the confessional he cannot repeat. This is helpful, of course, in that the priest can never reveal your sins to anyone else, no matter who asks or what consequences he may face. But it also means that if you share with him some personal difficulty or painful family situation, he won’t be able to ask you about it later. He might want to, but the seal of the sacrament prevents him from doing so. That’s another good reason to make an appointment for later or at least be sure to tell him again outside of confession of important things going on in your life.

11. Don’t be afraid to ask for help at any point, especially if you are a new Catholic, or if it has been a while since you have made a confession. It’s also helpful to let the priest know if you struggle with something like scrupulosity, or if a sin has become a habitual one, since it may mean that your will is no longer completely free.

12. After your last sin, say “for these and for any other sins that I may have forgotten”; that helps the priest realize you’ve finished your confession. Then the priest may give you some brief counsel about one or more of your sins. He will give you a penance (which you have the right to ask for a different one, if you like), and then you will say an act of contrition, and finally he wil pray the prayer of absolution, which actually forgives your sins. If you realize later you forgot a sin – honestly forgot – you can trust it was forgiven, but mention it the next time you go to confession in case the priest can say something helpful. When you leave the confessional, do your penance right away. 

Ludwig Passini, A church interior with women at the confessional (1863)

A final bit of advice, and probably the most important: Relax. Don’t be afraid. Jesus died for you. He loves you, and so does the priest. The priest is there to help you, not to judge you unfairly. He’s a sinner, too. Most of us priests forget the sins we hear almost immediately, and even if not, it is always much more inspiring to see a person trying to be holy than one who never comes to confession at all. Never be afraid of confession because of what someone else may think, even a priest. Focus instead on what Jesus thinks. He wants to meet us there; he wants to help us live more simply, more happily, free from our sins. We have much more to fear from our sins themselves than we do from the sacrament by which God frees us from them.

May our encounter with our saving Lord in this Eucharist inspire in us a true repentance of our sins and the boldness to seek him anew in the Sacrament of Mercy.