I was born on Holy Saturday, April 16, 1927, in Marktl am Inn. The fact that my day of birth was the last day of Holy Week and the eve of Easter has always been noted in our family history. This was connected with the fact that I was baptized immediately on the morning of the day I was born with the water that had just been blessed. (At that time the solemn Easter Vigil was celebrated on the morning of Holy Saturday.) To be the first person baptized with the new water was seen as a significant act of Providence. I have always been filled with thanksgiving for having had my life immersed in this way in the Easter mystery, since this could only be a sign of blessing. To be sure, it was not Easter Sunday but Holy Saturday, but, the more I reflect on it, the more this seems to be fitting for the nature of our human life: we are still awaiting Easter; we are not yet standing in the full light but walking toward it full of trust.
We know that he went on to accomplish great things. The question now is how many future priests, bishops, or even popes are being baptized? How many future deacons? How many future nuns? And most importantly of all: how many future saints?
Be sure to ask anyone you know being baptized or entering into full Communion with the Catholic Church if they have ever given any thought to their vocation.
On this Easter Sunday, we once again celebrate the great feast of joy and hope, two of the distinguishing marks of a faithful Christian.
The joy that Christians experience is not a simple optimism nor an unwarranted exhilaration. It is a joy rooted in the realization that in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, all that threatens the dignity and future of the human person has been overcome. Our existence is framed by the eternity of God’s love that gives life, truth, and peace.
We now live our everyday lives with extraordinary hope. Facing all of the challenges of an imperfect world, we know that the power of the resurrection still can transform every reality, even banishing the fear of death. For, when all is said and done, Christ is the Alpha and the Omega, and in the end His love will triumph.
This love, manifested on the Cross and confirmed in the Resurrection, sustains all of creation and every one of our lives. From this understanding flows that peace of which our diocesan patron saint, Francis de Sales, once wrote: “Have no fear for what tomorrow may bring. The same loving God who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day. God will either shield you from suffering or give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations.”
This love and peace of the Risen Lord we experience especially and preeminently in the celebration of the Eucharist instituted by Christ before His passion, death and resurrection. Here the Lord is truly present, fulfilling His promise that He would be with us until the end.
Therefore, in this Easter season let us rejoice and be glad. May the ever living Lord rise in your hearts and minds and bring you to life without end.
I was born on Holy Saturday, April 16, 1927, in Marktl am Inn. The fact that my day of birth was the last day of Holy Week and the eve of Easter has always been noted in our family history. This was connected with the fact that I was baptized immediately on the morning of the day I was born with the water that had just been blessed. (At that time the solemn Easter Vigil was celebrated on the morning of Holy Saturday.) To be the first person baptized with the new water was seen as a significant act of Providence. I have always been filled with thanksgiving for having had my life immersed in this way in the Easter mystery, since this could only be a sign of blessing. To be sure, it was not Easter Sunday but Holy Saturday, but, the more I reflect on it, the more this seems to be fitting for the nature of our human life: we are still awaiting Easter; we are not yet standing in the full light but walking toward it full of trust.
We know that he went on to accomplish great things. The question now is how many future priests, bishops, or even popes were baptized last night? How many future deacons? How many future nuns? And most importantly of all: how many future saints?
Be sure to ask anyone you know who was baptized or who entered into full Communion with the Catholic Church last night if they have ever given any thought to their vocation.
We adore Thee, O Christ, And we bless Thee, Who by Thy holy cross have redeemed the world, Who have suffered for us! Lord, Lord, have mercy upon us!
Adoramus Te, Christe, et benedicimus Tibi, quia per sanctam crucem Tuam redemisti mundum, Qui passus es pro nobis, Domine, Domine, miserere nobis!
The text (or a variant) is commonly used during the Stations of the Cross. It is derived from an Antiphon sung during communion on Good Friday in the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite. The tune was composed by the great Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina.
The singers, the Farther Along Octet, are students at a Mennonite College. If Mennonite college students can do this then certainly we should be seeing a little more of this in Catholic parishes. This is our musical heritage.
Christians around the world relive the final days of Christ’s life on earth this week. Our observances of these ancient events are as varied and as personal as each of our relationships with Him, and serve to prepare our hearts for the unspeakable gift of his suffering, his death, and his glorious resurrection.
You are invited to take part in a tradition that dates back to the eighth century, with the chanting of the Passion Narrative according to Saint John on Good Friday. Take half an hour apart from the events of the day, and listen to these sacred words, chanted by monastic members of the Gloriae Dei Cantores Schola in Gregorian chant.
Hear the voices of the Narrator, Christ, and the Synagogue, in this noble narration which brings to life with a dramatic immediacy the events of the Passion, as the Gospel account unfolds. Meditate on the English translation as you listen, and allow the ancient language of the text, and the special Gregorian chant tone reserved especially for this holy season, to add a new depth and solemnity to your understanding of this familiar story.
I was born on Holy Saturday, April 16, 1927, in Marktl am Inn. The fact that my day of birth was the last day of Holy Week and the eve of Easter has always been noted in our family history. This was connected with the fact that I was baptized immediately on the morning of the day I was born with the water that had just been blessed. (At that time the solemn Easter Vigil was celebrated on the morning of Holy Saturday.) To be the first person baptized with the new water was seen as a significant act of Providence. I have always been filled with thanksgiving for having had my life immersed in this way in the Easter mystery, since this could only be a sign of blessing. To be sure, it was not Easter Sunday but Holy Saturday, but, the more I reflect on it, the more this seems to be fitting for the nature of our human life: we are still awaiting Easter; we are not yet standing in the full light but walking toward it full of trust.
