From Pope Benedict’s Homily at the Easter Vigil:

This is the joy of the Easter Vigil: we are free. In the resurrection of Jesus, love has been shown to be stronger than death, stronger than evil. Love made Christ descend, and love is also the power by which he ascends. The power by which he brings us with him. In union with his love, borne aloft on the wings of love, as persons of love, let us descend with him into the world’s darkness, knowing that in this way we will also rise up with him. On this night, then, let us pray: Lord, show us that love is stronger than hatred, that love is stronger than death. Descend into the darkness and the abyss of our modern age, and take by the hand those who await you. Bring them to the light! In my own dark nights, be with me to bring me forth! Help me, help all of us, to descend with you into the darkness of all those people who are still waiting for you, who out of the depths cry unto you! Help us to bring them your light! Help us to say the “yes” of love, the love that makes us descend with you and, in so doing, also to rise with you. Amen!

The full text is here.

Tony Soprano will be “resurrected” for a few short episodes. HBO debuts the final half of the sixth season tomorrow night. Easter Sunday. I can’t wait. Maybe I was too pessimistic. I sure hope so!

Warning: the “Seven Minute Sopranos” linked in the NYT article is a breathtaking act of obsession and talent, all rolled into one. If you love the show, watch it– but the language and the violence can be graphic, like the language and violence in the show.

DotCommonweal contributor Joe Komonchak sent me two photos of the spectacular San Clemente mosaic discussed here earlier this week, and asked me to post them. Without further ado, and just in time for Easter, here they are.

And the detail:

&nbsp

I keep waiting for the New York Times to discuss Catholicism in general or Pope Benedict in particular in a way that moves beyond platitudes and fluff to some substantive insight. I know, I know: naive me.

The cover story in Easter Sunday’s New York Times Magazine (not yet online) deals the latest blow to my incorrigible optimism. The cover shows a sketch of the Pope with the caption “The Anti-Secularist.” Inside the article is entitled “Keeping the Faith.” Whatever the title, the content remains something old, little new, a lot borrowed, a motley stew.

Aside from the stacked deck ending, one finds absolutely no understanding or mention of the Pope’s passionately Christocentric vision and mission. Absent that perception, one has not the slightest clue concerning what the man is about.

As the latest statement of Benedict’s vision see his brief remarks at last evening’s Stations of the Cross in the Colosseum, (with grateful acknowledgment to Rocco Palmo):

Dear brothers and sisters,

Following Jesus along the way of his passion, we see not only the suffering of Jesus, but also all the suffering of the world; this is the deep intention of the prayer of the Way of the Cross: to open our hearts and to help us to see with our hearts.

The Fathers of the Church considered insensitivity, the hardness of heart, as the greatest sin of the pagan world and so loved the prophecy of Ezekiel: “I will take your heart of stone and will give you a heart of flesh” (Ez 36:26). To convert ourselves to Christ, to become Christian, is to receive a heart of flesh, a sensitive heart for the agony and suffering of others.

Our God is not a faraway God, untouchable in his blessedness: our God has a heart. Rather, he has a heart of flesh, made flesh itself to suffer with us and to be with us in our sufferings. He made himself man to give us a heart of flesh and to reawaken in us a love for the suffering, for the needy.

Let us pray to the Lord in this hour for all the afflicted of the world. Let us pray to the Lord that he may really give us a heart of flesh and make us messengers of His love not only with words, but with all our life. Amen.

Scroll down Rocco’s blog for the magnificent Chrism Mass Homily, and stay tuned for his posting of Benedict’s Easter homily. That’s where hope will truly spring.

This isn’t going to be controversial at all.

Over at MOJ, Rob Vischer posted a link to this story about a Wyoming lesbian couple denied communion after publicly voicing opposition to a Wyoming bill that would deny recognition to same-sex marriages.

It’s almost not worth commenting on the obvious parallels with Kerry at this early stage in the nominating process, since I think Rudy’s honesty on this issue makes it very unlikely that he will ultimately be the Republican nominee.  But I do want to put a marker down in the event that it happens.  What I want to know is whether the same prominent Catholic voices that questioned Kerry’s Catholicism and the permissiblity of Catholics voting for him will say the same things, and as loudly and insistently, about Rudy, who is now on the (recent) record as favoring both abortion rights and public funding of abortion?  I suppose some will and some won’t.  It will be interesting to see whether they do and, if they don’t, what reasons they give for their different treatment.

Can you find the point of ultimate repudiation?

Thomas Cahill is writing a series of popular (and profitable) books under the general title: “The Hinges of History.” The latest handsome volume is  Mysteries of the Middle Ages.

Acknowledging one of his own sources, Norman Cantor’s Inventing the Middle Ages, Cahill calls it “selective, quirky, and subjective.” If I may make bold: the same assessment seems applicable to Cahill’s own volume.

Yet, I forgave him all his excesses, di tutto cuore, when I came upon his description of the mosaic of the Cross as Tree of Life in San Clemente. He writes: “[it] presents us with a view of reality that is both cosmic and eucharistic … there is no sight in all of Rome more worthy of contemplation.” E troppo vero!

Cahill ends his reflection (enhanced by wonderful photos) with these words:

To appreciate the impact of this mosaic it is nearly necessary to attend a Mass celebrated at the altar below the apse. As the ritual of the Mass unfolds beneath the cosmic wildness of the apse, we reflect that we are all caught up in the universal mystery of Christ, who has redeemed us and all of creation, even the humblest humans and the humblest things, so that he might come to us as bread.

When I sit, contemplating the mosaic during the celebration of the Eucharist, I sense the presence of countless pilgrims who, through the ages, have been strengthened in their love of Christ by this masterwork of anonymous artists of centuries past.

I wonder whether Francis of Assisi paused here for prayer on his way to the nearby Lateran Palace and his history-changing encounter with Innocent III. I muse that perhaps Thomas Aquinas composed his great Sequence Adoro Te Devote while kneeling before the life-giving Cross. If not the whole Sequence, surely the fifth stanza:

O memoriale mortis Domini
          panis vivus
vitam praestans homini,
praesta meae menti de te vivere
et te illi semper dulce sapere.

A blessed celebration of the Holy Triduum in which Jesus the Christ recapitulates all things in himself, becoming Eucharist for the many, for all.

Just in time for Good Friday:

In a bankruptcy reorganization plan filed March 28, the San Diego
Diocese proposed a $95 million pool to compensate 143 people who claim
childhood sexual abuse by priests.

Under the proposal 83 victims who say they were forced to have
sexual intercourse could receive up to $800,000 each. Forty-four who
claim they were touched sexually or forced to masturbate could receive
between $176,000 and $575,000. Payments to 16 victims of abuse not
involving touch, such as being asked to look at pornography or posing
for indecent pictures, could range from $10,000 to $175,000.

Besides the different levels of seriousness of the abuse, factors in
determining the amount of each award would include such elements as the
age of the victim and the duration and frequency of the abuse.

In addition, the diocese proposed to establish a $3 million fund to
settle any currently unknown claims that might be brought forward in
coming years.

Lead plaintiff’s attorney Ray Boucher called the diocesan proposal
“outrageous” and predicted “a long and expensive battle.” Plaintiffs’
attorneys have indicated that they think the settlement should be about
double what was offered.

Read the rest right here.

The mosaic of the Cross as Tree of Life is the jewel of the twelfth century Basilica of San Clemente. But there are other wonders as well.

Surrounding the Cross, serving as frame for it, is the triumphal arch: also an extraordinary theological composition in mosaic.

At its apex is Christ as Pantocrator, flanked by the apocalyptic symbols of the four Evangelists. On either side are large figures of Peter and Paul, dressed in Roman tunics, in the company of and instructing Clement and Lawrence. Below them stand the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah.

If the best of Greco-Roman culture offered only dim intimations of the glory to be revealed, the Hebrew prophets, read through the eyes of Christian faith, intuited the coming of God’s Messiah.

A homily of Saint Melito of Sardis, in Holy Thursday’s Office of Readings (Matins), recapitulates the Church’s sense of the fulfillment realized in Christ:

There was much proclaimed by the prophets about the mystery of the Passover: that mystery is Christ, and to him be glory forever and ever.

He was led forth like a lamb; he was slaughtered like a sheep. He ransomed us from our servitude to the world, as he had ransomed Israel from the land of Egypt. He freed us from our servitude to the devil, as he had freed Israel from the hand of Pharaoh. He sealed our souls with his own Spirit, and the members of our body with his own blood.

It is he who endured every kind of suffering in all those who foreshadowed him. In Abel he was slain, in Isaac bound, in Jacob exiled, in Joseph sold, in Moses exposed to die. He was sacrificed in the Passover lamb, persecuted in David, dishonored in the prophets.

It is he who was made man of the Virgin, he who was hung on the tree. It is he who was buried in the earth, raised from the dead, and taken up to the heights of heaven.

He is the mute lamb, the slain lamb, the lamb born of Mary the fair ewe. He was seized from the flock, dragged off to be slaughtered, sacrificed in the evening and buried at night.

On the tree no bone of his was broken; in the earth his body knew no decay. He is the one who rose from the dead, and who raised man from the depths of the tomb.

It is the death of the Eternal Word of God made flesh, which is our great lesson how to think and how to speak of this world. His Cross has put its due value upon every thing which we see, upon all fortunes, all advantages, all ranks, all dignities, all pleasures; upon the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. It has set a price upon the excitements, the rivalries, the hopes, the fears, the desires, the efforts, the triumphs of mortal man. It has given a meaning to the various, shifting course, the trials, the temptations, the sufferings, of his earthly state. It has brought together and made consistent all that seemed discordant and aimless. It has taught us how to live, how to use this world, what to expect, what to desire, what to hope. It is the tone into which all the strains of this world’s music are ultimately to be resolved.

(Newman, “The Cross of Christ the Measure of the World,” Parochial and Plain Sermons, vol. VI, 84-85)

Our crosses are the lengthened shadow of the Cross on Calvary.

(Newman, Lectures on Justification, 177)

And, to anticipate, Newman has a lovely Easter sermon, “Difficulty of Realizing Sacred Privileges” at: http://www.newmanreader.org/works/parochial/volume6/sermon8.html

In one of his Wednesday audiences, the late John Paul II spoke of the key theological theme of “recapitulation.” He said:

God’s saving plan, “the mystery of his will” (cf. Eph 1: 9) for every creature, is described in the Letter to the Ephesians with a distinctive term: to “recapitulate” all things in heaven and on earth in Christ (Eph 1: 10). The image could also refer to the roller around which was wrapped the parchment or papyrus scroll of the volumen with a written text: Christ gives a single meaning to all the syllables, words and works of creation and history

The first person to take up this theme of “recapitulation” and develop it in a marvelous way was St Irenaeus of Lyons, a great second-century Father of the Church. Against any fragmentation of salvation history, against any division of the Old and New Covenants, against any dispersion of God’s revelation and action, Irenaeus extols the one Lord, Jesus Christ, who in the Incarnation sums up in himself the entire history of salvation, humanity and all creation: “He, as the eternal King, recapitulates all things in himself” (Adversus Haereses, III, 21, 9).

The great mosaic of the Cross as the Tree of Life, in Rome’s Basilica of San Clemente, depicts in its swirling branches the world and human history as one great vineyard. It contains not only scenes of everyday life, but also representations of Roman gods, dim intimations of the fulfillment that would come only in Christ’s paschal mystery.

One remembers how the early fathers of the Church heard resonances of Christ’s coming in the Fourth Eclogue of Virgil, promising “jam nova progenies caelo demittitur alto“: “now a new progeny descends from high heaven.”

Yet more mysterious is the prediction in Plato’s Republic. When Glaucon muses on the fate of the truly just man, he says: “the just one will have to endure the lash, the rack, chains, the branding iron in his eyes, and finally, after every extremity of suffering, he will be crucified.”

Georges Rouault, the creator of the great and terrible series of prints, “Miserere et Guerre,” remarked:

Jesus dies every hour, smelling sweet on the sandalwood of the Cross;  He perfumes the universe, but man no longer believes except in his misery.

Since we’ve been talking about global warming on this site a bit, I thought I’d link to the Supreme Court’s opinion today (written by my former boss, and joined by Justices Kennedy, Souter, Ginsburg and Breyer) in Massachusetts v. EPA. The Court held that the Bush Administration was wrong to insist that it lacked the authority under the Clean Air Act to regulate CO2 emissions. While the Court did not mandate that the EPA begin to regulate CO2, it did order the EPA to determine whether CO2 contributes to climate change or to provide a reasonable explanation why it will not exercise its discretion to regulate CO2.

For those interested in the broader issue of the Bush Administration’s expansive theories of executive power, the Court also provided us with this little gem in the course of rejecting the EPA’s argument that regulating CO2 might “impair the President’s ability to engotiate with ‘key developing nations’ to reduce emissions”: “[W]hile the President has broad authority in foreign affairs,” the Court replied, “that authority does not extend to refusal to execute domestic laws.”

A Reuters report filed March 31 says Cardinal Tarciscio Bertone, has blasted the media for highlighting the Vatican’s views on sex while maintaining a “deafening silence” about charity work done by thousands of Catholic organisations around the world.

“We face an extremely grave problem. The church’s messages are subject to a type of manipulation and falsification by some western media,” Bertone said in an interview with Le Figaro Magazine published in Paris on Saturday.

“I see a fixation by some journalists on moral topics, such as abortion and homosexual unions, which are certainly important issues but absolutely do not constitute the thinking and work of the church,” he said.

By coincidence, our J-school chair sent around her weekly update with a link to the Newsweek/Washington Post site, “On Faith,” which is currently examining the media’s treatment of religion.

Hosted by reporters Sally Quinn and Jon Meacham, the site features topics considered by quite a diverse panel (including Margaret O’Brien Steinfels) from Christian denominations and other faiths.

Among today’s featured panelists are former Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong and a witch. Again by coincidence, I presume.

Whaddya think? Will the discussion help reporters do a better job with religious reporting? Or does it help elucidate why some news readers (like Cardinal Bertone) get annoyed with the press?

My dictionary defines an “epigraph” thus: “a quotation placed at the beginning of a book or chapter to indicate the leading idea or theme.”

For the past few years, I’ve asked my undergraduates to affix an epigraph on the title page of the book review they are doing for class. For the most part they choose something from the book itself. But often enough it will be taken from a favorite song or poem. Always it provides a valuable affective insight into what has moved them.

I recall the first time, as a teenager, that the weight of an epigraph struck me. My first reading of The Brothers Karamazov was guided by the epigraph Dostoevsky affixed to his masterpiece: “Amen, amen, I say to you. Unless a grain of wheat fall into the ground and die, it remains alone; but if it die, it brings forth much fruit” (John 12:24).

Years later, in graduate school, my reading of Jonathan Edwards’ great Treatise Concerning the Religious Affections was similarly illuminated by the epigraph he placed at its beginning: “Without having seen Jesus Messiah you love him; though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with unutterable and exalted joy. As the outcome of your faith, you obtain the salvation of your souls” (1 Peter 1:8&9).

When I am sometimes asked: when did you first sense a vocation to priesthood?, my affections always return to St. Roch’s parish in the South Bronx (then an Irish, Italian, and Jewish neighborhood) and the old onionskin missal containing, as a prayer after communion, Psalm 84. The twelve year old I was then somehow thrilled to the opening verse: “How lovely is your dwelling place, Lord God of Hosts! My soul yearns and faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and flesh sing for joy to the living God.”

As we begin Holy Week, a salutary exercise is to remember the epigraph that serves as “leading idea or theme” for the book of our own spiritual journey. To unite our anamnesis with that of the Church remembering/reliving the great events that give it being.

Should any care to share their “epigraph” in this space, I’m sure we will all be enriched.

A blessed Week!