Delivered during the Mass for the Reception of the Relic of Blessed Carlo Acutis, April 28, 2022 “What do you want to be when you grow up?” When I was in Catholic school like you, people would ask me and my friends that question all the time.
The Chrism Mass has its historical roots in the second century, when the bishop blessed sacramental oils and consecrated sacramental Chrism during the Easter vigil. By the fifth century, this ritual was transferred to Holy Thursday in a morning Mass separate from the evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper due to the large crowds who gathered and the Church’s desire to commemorate the institution of the priesthood at the Last Supper. Eleven centuries later, Pope St. Paul VI established the ceremony now known as the Chrism Mass during Holy Week.
The word “peace” appears hundreds of times in the Bible – depending upon the version and translations consulted. In the Gospels, the Lord Jesus greeted his disciples, wishing them “peace” three times and then only after his Death and Resurrection. “Peace be with you,” he said once he had suffered, died and rose from the dead.
Bishop David M. O’Connell, C.M., delivered the following homily for the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord, following his joining in the worldwide Consecration of Russia, Ukraine and all of humanity to the Immaculate Heart of Mary March 25 in St. Mary of Assumption Cathedral, Trenton.
There is a saying often attributed to the early 20th century Irish writer and poet James Joyce (1882-1936) that explains “Catholic means ‘here comes everybody’.” I find that quote very insightful, beautiful really. The word “Catholic,” drawn from its Greek roots, is translated “universal.” We Catholics are a universal Church: universal in extent and scope; universal in faith; universal in embrace.
I remember going shopping as a boy with my mother and grandmother – I guess, maybe 60 years ago – when I asked my Mom to buy me a toy. We had just finished having lunch at the W.T. Grant Department store restaurant counter – remember those? – and I pleaded with her, “please get me this.” My grandmother interrupted, “June, you are spoiling that boy,” and my Mom accepted her observation telling me to put the toy back. As Mom continued her shopping, distracted from us, Grandmom took my hand and whispered, “Go get it, I’ll buy it for you.” So much for being “spoiled.”
On the evening of Holy Saturday, Bishop David M. O’Connell, C.M., urged the faithful to remember that nothing was ever the same again after the dark hours of Jesus’ Death gave way to the light of his glorious Resurrection.
Some of you may remember seeing the classic romanticcomedy film from the early fifties, "The Quiet Man" starring screen legends John Wayne, Maureen O'Hara and Barry Fitzgerald. Some of you may not remember either the film or the actors but it took place in Ireland, where John Wayne had returned after a boxing career in the US to find some peace and quiet, hence the film's title "The Quiet Man." Ironically, he fell in love and found just the opposite.
After the Readings that we hear at Mass, the reader says, “The Word of the Lord, the Gospel of the Lord,” and we respond, “Thanks be to God, praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.” Although we might not think about it too much, that is a very important dialogue. We are expressing our belief as Catholics that the Scriptures we hear and read are THE WORD OF THE LORD. Pretty awesome, don’t you think?
Today, as a Diocese and throughout our many parishes, we celebrate a “Mass of Giving Thanks to God for the Gift of Human Life.” One need not be a Catholic to express that intention of gratitude. But one cannot, however, be a Catholic without that sentiment rooted deep in our souls.
Bishop David M. O’Connell, C.M., is the homilist for Mass on Sept. 11 at St. Mary, Middletown – part of a three-day, in-car revival titled “God, Country, Family” that is being hosted in the parish parking lot. Following is Bishop O’Connell’s homily for Sept. 11.
The coronavirus pandemic that has gripped most of the world is a crisis on so many levels that very few parts of our society have been spared its impact. Our own state has been one of the regions in our country hardest hit, so much so, that the things that have been, and are, an ordinary part of our everyday life have been put “on hold” in virtually every sphere of endeavor, including our life in the Church.
Jesus of Nazareth lived most of his life in obscurity without much notoriety or attention paid to him. The Gospels tell us about his birth in Bethlehem and, later, about his appearance in the temple at age twelve.
The Thursday before Easter is called “Holy.” Some Christian communities use the expression “Maundy” as their reference, a term less familiar to Catholics – coming from French and Latin roots – meaning “commanded.” It is a reference to the command of the Lord Jesus on that first Holy Thursday to wash the feet of his disciples: “As I have done for you, you should also do (John 13: 15).” We hear that command in tonight’s Gospel of St. John.
Did Jesus ever go to school? The Bible doesn’t say so we cannot be sure. Did you ever wonder about that? The New Testament does tell us that Jesus could read, something he had to learn somewhere. The New Testament also suggests that Jesus could write, again something he had to learn somewhere. Jesus also knew the Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament, since he quoted it often. Where did he learn the Jewish religion and all its rules and practices?
In my Christmas Message to the Diocese this year, I wrote “The whole world becomes different at Christmas.” Those are my words, yes, but they are not my idea. The prophet Isaiah —- 800 years before the birth of Christ —- expressed the idea this way, as we heard in our First Reading tonight, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Light makes the dark world “different.” It enables people to see. And what do we see at Christmas? “A child is born for us,” Isaiah explains, “A son is given us. Upon his shoulders dominion rests.” This is what we see; this is whom we see at Christmas. A Child. A Son. “They name him: Wonder Counselor, God-Hero, Father Forever, Prince of Peace.” It is the Child, the Son who shatters the darkness of this world and brings his light.
“Do whatever he tells you.” These words of our Blessed Mother Mary to the servants working at the Wedding Feast of Cana emerge from John’s Gospel as maternal instruction to us all.
As Catholics in the United States, we live in two worlds: a secular world — the state— and a religious world — the Church or comparable communities defined by religious beliefs. They are distinctively different, “separate” worlds that co- exist simultaneously. In addition to rights, customs, identifying principles and traditions, each of these worlds possesses its own system of laws established to create and preserve order for the sake of the common good. It is the search for the common good inherent in each system that enables each to regard the other with respect. Some will say that neither world should influence or affect the other directly or indirectly. I am not one of them.
The great gift of growing older is a cherished treasury of memories, memories of family and friends, memories of joyful celebrations and difficult moments, memories that make us laugh and smile, memories that bring a tear to our eyes, memories of a long life most of which has filled decades of our past and which sustain us in the present, for the future. Some of the people closest to us have gone home to God while many others continue to surround us with love. We pray for them all. Today is a celebration of all our memories and of the God who gave us all the gifts that have filled our lives. Today is a celebration of the faith that joins us all together in the present and of our gratitude for that faith.