The following link is to a homily given by Pope Benedict XVI in 2008 about the beauty of gothic churches and their role in the mystagogy of saints, art architecture.
Wednesday, 15 December 2021
Saturday, 11 December 2021
We hear in today’s Gospel that God's people are “filled with expectation.” The crowd gathered around John the Baptist believed that he might be the Messiah whom they’ve been waiting for to free them from the power of sin and Rome. Three times we hear their question: “What then should we do?”
The Messiah’s coming requires everyone to choose—to “repent”. That’s John’s message and it will be the message of Jesus too (Lk 3:3; 5:32; 24:47). “Repentance” as we have already heard this Advent, is translated from the Greek word, metanoia(literally, “change of mind”). However, repentance is a twofold change or turning. It is “turning” away from sin (Ezekiel 3:19; 18:30) and then turning toward God (Sir 17:20–21).
This “turning” is more than what a teacher might call an attitude adjustment. It means a radical life change. It requires “good fruits as evidence of our repentance” (Luke 3:8). That’s why John tells the crowds, the soldiers and tax collectors they must prove their faith through works of charity, hope, honesty, and justice.
In today’s Mass, each of us is called to stand in that crowd and hear the “good news” of John the Baptist’s call to repentance. In this mystagogy, i.e. this learning through the sacramental mysteries of our faith, we examine our lives, asking from our hearts as the crowd asked: “What should we do?” Our repentance springs not from fear of coming wrath (Luke 3:7–9) but from a joyful sense of the nearness of our saving God.
This theme resounds through today’s readings: “Rejoice! “. . . Gaudete! Rejoice ye! The Lord is near. So, on this Third Sunday of Advent the liturgical colour is rose signifying our joy at the news of the coming Messiah. Have no anxiety we are told in today’s Epistle. The Lord is coming amongst us. “Rejoice, in the Lord always, again I say: Rejoice.
In today’s First Reading, we hear echoes of the angel’s Annunciation to Blessed Mary. The prophet’s words are very close to the angel’s greeting (Luke 1:28–31). Mary is the Daughter Zion—the favoured one of God, told not to fear but to rejoice that the Lord is with her, “a mighty Saviour.”
She brings us joy. For in her the Messiah draws near to us, as John the Baptist had promised: “One mightier than I is coming.”
Friday, 10 December 2021
Excerpted from an article by Z. Maier:
What does full participation mean?
The Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy offers little explanation as to what “full, conscious, and active participation” consists of, other than that it is inherent in the very nature of what liturgy is.
Participation is primarily internal
Active participation in the liturgy is primarily internal, no matter how much such external manifestations may be concrete indications of what is happening within. Active participation has to do with a kind of mindful engagement in the rites, an attending to the words and gestures, the symbols . . . the space, the season. Without interior participation the rites are empty formalism.
What is needed to achieve participation?
Preparation for the Sunday readings
Pope John Paul II touched on this issue in his 1998 apostolic letter, Dies Domini: The Day of the Lord. In it he suggested that in order for the faithful to benefit from hearing the Word of God in the liturgy each Sunday they must take steps to prepare themselves in order to draw life from its proclamation. Of particular benefit, he said, is bringing people together beforehand to reflect on the Word of God they will hear proclaimed.
Many parishes have among their people a small group of “cradle” Catholics who have discovered a whole new understanding of their faith when they were asked to sponsor someone wanting to join the Church and participated in the journey with the newcomer.
It is in the context of reception that the idea of mystagogy, a period of post-baptismal catechesis, was re-introduced into the current church experience. The word mystagogy derives from a Greek word meaning “teaching of mystery.” This time of catechesis suggests, is “of great significance for both the neophytes and the rest of the faithful,” and they in turn should “derive from it a renewal of inspiration and of outlook” (p. 145).
Mystagogical reflection in the early Church
Both the catechumenate and mystagogical preaching were at their height in and around the fourth century. Reflections on liturgy by teachers of the time – Cyril of Jerusalem (+386), John Chysostom (+407), Augustine of Hippo (+430), among others – are part of the Church’s legacy. It is from one such mystagogical reflection that we have the often-quoted words of Augustine: “If you are the body and members of Christ, then what is laid on the Lord’s table is the sacrament of what you yourselves are, and it is the sacrament of what you are that you receive.”
Judging from the Church’s experience of that time, mystagogical preaching is an important part of ongoing catechesis. The call is made to the baptized to enter into mission, to service in the world. At the end of every liturgical celebration, the dismissal rite sends the community forth in the service of Christ.
A mystagogical approach needed to engage the faithful
Making the liturgy accessible to “head and heart” is done best by a mystagogical approach. There are several characteristics of mystagogy as re-introduced in current church practice that make it particularly appropriate:
- It is for all the baptized and not just for the neophytes;
- Mystagogy is a lifelong process involving a commitment to learning and deepening one’s understanding and commitment that is never finished;
- The whole of the community’s sacramental life is appropriate material for mystagogical reflection;
- Mystagogy is focused on personal experience, a sense of an encounter with God, the many layers of meaning in liturgical texts and symbols, and sharing this experience in order to be enriched;
- The liturgy itself is the first teacher describing who the baptized Christian is.
Thursday, 9 December 2021
The following is excerpted from an article by Evan Ponton:
CATECHISM OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH (CCC)
Liturgical catechesis aims to initiate people into the mystery of Christ (It is "mystagogy.") by proceeding from the visible to the invisible, from the sign to the thing signified, from the "sacraments" to the "mysteries."
Such catechesis is to be presented by local and regional catechisms. This Catechism, which aims to serve the whole Church in all the diversity of her rites and cultures, will present what is fundamental and common to the whole Church in the liturgy as mystery and as celebration (Section One), and then the seven sacraments and the sacramentals (Section Two).
What is Mystagogy?
Our faith needs mystagogy first and foremost because of one simple reason: we celebrate and proclaim a mystery.
It is important to recognize that for some people, the idea of religious “mystery” conjures up images of a Da Vinci Code-esque Church shrouded in secrecy, New Age spiritualism, or even a pre-scientific belief in “magic.”
But the sacraments do not initiate us into a special club or secret society. Through them, we are made participants in the life of Jesus Christ.
Faith begins and ends in mystery, most especially the mystery of the Most Holy Trinity, “the central mystery of Christian faith and life . . . the source of all other mysteries of faith” (CCC 234).
In the scriptures, liturgy, and sacraments, we truly encounter and participate in the Triune life of God. But no matter how intelligent or insightful we are, we will never fully wrap our minds around God’s glory or totally experience it with our five senses.
Mystagogy comes from the Greek word meaning, “to lead through the mysteries.” The Catechism describes mystagogy as a “liturgical catechesis that aims to initiate people into the mystery of Christ” (CCC 1075).
Mystagogy leads us from the external signs and rituals of the liturgy to the inner, spiritual meaning of the divine life they signify. Mystagogy is the form of catechesis that helps us unpack and explore the spiritual treasures contained in the sacraments by continuously reflecting on their meaning and significance in our personal lives of faith.
Mystagogy was the way the early Church Fathers embraced and trained new Christians in the practices and beliefs of the faith. Perhaps the most well known teacher of mystagogy was St. Cyril of Jerusalem (315-386 CE), who delivered a famous series of sermons, known as “mystagogic catecheses,” during the time of Lent through the Easter Octave.
But mystagogy isn’t just for the newly baptized; it is the way every Catholic can continually deepen their relationship with Christ by daily drawing on the grace of the sacraments.
Significance for the New Evangelization
Just as Catholics are rediscovering the importance of the “kerygma” (Greek for “proclamation”) for evangelization, mystagogy is incredibly important in our approach to catechesis in the New Evangelization.
Pope St. John Paul II wrote, “Through catechesis the Gospel kerygma is gradually deepened . . . . and channeled toward Christian practice in the Church and the world” (Catechesi Tradendae, n. 25). This catechesis is accomplished by means of mystagogical reflection.
Living the Mystery Daily
Ongoing mystagogy is important because our relationship with the sacraments changes as we grow and mature as individuals and meet new life challenges and circumstances.
In turn, the sacraments really change us. Pope Benedict XVI said, “The mature fruit of mystagogy is an awareness that one's life is being progressively transformed by the holy mysteries being celebrated” (Sacramentum Caritatis n. 64).
By reflecting regularly on the sacraments, we access an incredible strength for our daily tasks.
Developing a practice of Eucharistic mystagogy can combat the routinization that often sets in to our receiving communion.
For those who are married, or preparing for marriage, there is a mystagogy of marriage. With ongoing mystagogic reflection, you may discover new fruits of that sacrament in every season of life.
Studying theology and the Bible is often an undervalued way of developing our spiritual life. Learning about someone or something is a sign of love, and we truly become what we behold (cf 2 Cor. 3:18). Reading the great books and sermons of Catholic authors and theologians greatly expands our hearts and minds to experience the truth and depth of our faith.
The Catholic philosopher Gabriel Marcel is attributed as stating, “Life is not a problem to be solved, but a mystery to be lived.” Mystagogy is the path leading Christians to learn to live the mystery of our faith. I encourage you to follow the path trod by St. Cyril up through Pope St. John Paul II and Benedict XVI in making this incredible tradition and gift called “mystagogy” a part of your life.
ADDRESS OF HIS HOLINESS TO
THE PLENARY ASSEMBLY OF
FOR DIVINE WORSHIP AND
THE DISCIPLINE OF THE SACRAMENTS
Room adjacent to
St. Paul VI Audience Hall Thursday, 14 February 2019
The liturgical formation of the People of God.
The task that awaits us is indeed essentially that of spreading among the People of God the splendour of the living mystery of the Lord, Who makes Himself manifest in the liturgy.
. . . liturgical formation means first and foremost being aware of the indispensable role the liturgy holds in the Church and for the Church. And then, concretely helping the People of God to interiorize better the prayer of the Church, to love it as an experience of encounter with the Lord and with brothers who, in the light of this, rediscover its content and observe its rites.
Since the liturgy is an experience extended to the conversion of life through the assimilation of the Lord’s way of thinking and behaving, liturgical formation cannot be limited to simply offering knowledge – this is a mistake . . . In order for the liturgy to fulfil its formative and transforming function, it is necessary that the pastors and the laity be introduced to their meaning and symbolic language, including art, song and music in the service of the mystery celebrated . . .The Catechism of the Catholic Church itself adopts the mystagogical way to illustrate the liturgy, valuing its prayers and signs.
Mystagogy: this is a suitable way to enter the mystery of the liturgy, in the living encounter with the crucified and risen Lord. Mystagogy means discovering the new life we have received in the People of God through the Sacraments, and continually rediscovering the beauty of renewing it.
Regarding the stages of formation, we know from experience that, in addition to the initial phase, it is necessary to cultivate the ongoing formation of the clergy and laity, especially those who are involved in the ministries serving the liturgy. Formation not once, but continuing.
Dear brothers and sisters, we are all called to deepen and revive our liturgical formation. The liturgy is in fact the main road through which Christian life passes through every phase of its growth. You therefore have before you a great and beautiful task: to work so that the People of God may rediscover the beauty of meeting the Lord in the celebration of His mysteries and, by meeting Him, have life in His name. I thank you for your efforts and I bless you, asking you to always reserve for me a place – a large one! – in your prayer.
In the Advent readings we recall God’s saving deeds in the history of Israel and in the coming of Jesus. Our remembrance is meant to stir our faith, to fill us with confidence that, as today’s Epistle puts it, “the one who began a good work in [us] will continue to complete it” until He comes again in glory.” (Phil. 1)
Week by week the liturgy of Sunday Mass teaches us that like Israel in her exile we have been led into captivity by our sinfulness. We stand in need of healing and conversion by the Word of the Holy One as the prophet Baruch proclaims (Baruch 5:5). The lessons of salvation history teach us that, as God again and again delivered Israel, in His mercy, God will free us from our attachments to sin if we constantly turn to Him in repentance.
In a 2008 address to cultural leaders in Paris, Pope Benedict affirmed that the Logos– the Word of God—the locus of Reason calls us to metanoia, repentance – literallymeta-noia i.e. going beyond the mind. As Pope Benedict puts it: the Logos displays his mystery through the complexity and the reality of human history.
Those who are beginning their Catholic mystagogy, their enlightening reflection on the sacraments and the mysteries of the Christian Faith have much to meditate on in the person and teaching of St. John Baptist.
John – the mystagog or proclaimer of meaning – is introduced in today’s Gospel as the last of the Prophets (Jer. 1:1–4, 11). But John is greater than the prophets (Luke 7:27). He’s preparing the way not only for the redemption of Israel but for the salvation of “all flesh,” all races and nations (Acts 28:28) through the mystery of the waters of Baptism.
St. John the Baptist quotes Isaiah (40:3) to tell us he’s come to build a
road home for us, a way out of the darkness, the wilderness of sin and
our alienation from God. It’s the illuminated road we follow Jesus down, a journey we make, as Baruch puts it, “rejoicing that [we’re] remembered by God . . .
Saturday, 25 September 2021
Tuesday, 8 June 2021
Public Masses begin again in Toronto for the Solemnity of the Sacred Heart of Jesus - Friday, June 11
Friday is also the World Day of Prayer for priests and a day to give thanks for the gift of the Mass publicly celebrated once again in Toronto while observing Covid19 guidelines of the Province of Ontario which allow up to 15% capacity in church buildings for Stage 1 and increasing numbers for each subsequent stage.
Because STM has a very large church building at 263 Roncesvalles Ave. (shared with St. Vincent de Paul parish) we will be able to accommodate our usual number and somewhat larger numbers of people attending Sunday Mass.
First public Sung Mass at STM:
Sunday, June 13 at 12:30 noon
No reservations will be required but come early to ensure you have a seat.
Friday, 9 April 2021
Sunday, 4 April 2021
Saturday, 3 April 2021
In a recent FIRST THINGS article by Francis X. Maier - Hope and Her Daughters - Mhe author looks at the virtue of Hope and two elements related to Hope in the Great Tradition of classical thought (often attributed to St. Augustine).
The two beautiful daughters of Hope are Anger and Courage: Anger with the way things are, and Courage to change them for the better.
This article, which I quote in parts, pretty much sums my understanding of recent events in the USA and, to a degree, in Canada.
. . . Hope is a choice we make in the face of suffering and disappointment. Georges Bernanos once described hope as “despair overcome”—despair experienced, suffered, and overcome through the grace of God and the cooperation of the human will. Hope has a strength that comes of struggling with doubt and fear. It has substance, which hollow optimism lacks.
. . . I am angry at the way things are. Certainly, patriotism and respect for elected officials are important Christian duties especially vital in [Canada and the USA] where the law—not ethnicity or religion or even language—is the glue that holds us together. Disregard for the law is uniquely toxic
. . . In that light, consider this: If tearing down public statues, defacing churches and monuments, trashing . . . history, looting and burning businesses, and months of violent rioting on the left [in the US] can be excused by some as regrettable excesses of legitimate unrest, then how can we hold today’s anger on the political right to a different standard? The same gravity of the law applies to everyone, or the law is a fraud.
. . . If our leaders want national unity—and we should pray that Joe Biden and his administration will learn from the mistakes of Trump and his critics—then they cannot demonize and punish their opponents. They cannot turn their reverence for the Republic, the law, and our public buildings and institutions on and off like a spigot, according to their party’s current agenda. If our leaders want national healing, they need to respect and listen to people they disagree with and don’t like. When they don’t, bad things happen. What took place on January 6 at the U.S. Capitol was an echo from the right of what had happened on the left in cities around the country throughout 2020. It was ugly and dangerous and self-defeating—but rightly or wrongly, many people feel it was inevitable. Populist fury will subside, but resentment of our political class and distrust of our public institutions will grow.
. . . . Hope has two beautiful daughters. For many, and certainly for me, anger is the more attractive one. She’s a cheap date, as I know from intimate experience over the past few months. I’m angry with Donald Trump for blowing up the good work of his presidency and taking scores of decent people down with him. I’m angry with the Democratic party and its congressional leaders for their poisonous duplicity, their scheming, and their relentless undermining of Trump from day one. I’m angry with the news media for their four years of bias and lying. I’m angry with the billionaires of Big Tech for their obscene wealth and their Stalinoid attacks on free speech.
I’m angry with my generation, the Boomers, who set this cultural mess in motion fifty years ago. I’m angry with my fellow Catholics for forgetting our history and selling our birthright in order to fit in more comfortably and succeed more easily in this country. I’m angry with a pope whom I want to respect but who constantly undercuts his American bishops with baffling behavior and eccentric remarks.
. . . . C. S. Lewis warned that the pleasure of anger lies in “the fact that one feels entirely righteous oneself only when one is angry. Then the other person is pure black, and you are pure white.” It’s hard to imagine a better description of the current condition of American politics. In the long run, that’s fatal to national community. A priest friend likes to remind me that Jesus experienced anger, and anger can be a good and necessary response to injustice. But it’s how we handle that anger, whether we cling to it and what we do with it, that determines the future of our country and our own salvation.
Seneca concluded his essay On Anger with these words: “[Nothing is] great which is not at the same time calm.” Anger untempered by patience and prudence, anger fixed on revenge or vindication of the self, anger not directed to the common good, can only diminish and destroy. Absent love and the interior peace it brings, all of life is conflict, and our faith is empty. Absent love, speaking the truth is not merely useless; it becomes an instrument of self-righteousness and a weapon against others.
What does this mean for Christians in America? The Augustinian priest and scholar Robert Dodaro wrote a book some years ago titled Christ and the Just Society in the Thought of Augustine. In his book and in my private exchanges with him, Dodaro made four key points about Augustine’s view of Christians and politics. Archbishop Charles Chaput often relied on them in his own reflections on the political role of Christians, from which (with his permission) I borrow in what follows.
First, Augustine never offers a political theory, for good reason. He doesn’t believe that human beings can know or create perfect justice in this world. Our judgment is always flawed by our sinfulness. Therefore, the starting point for any Christian politics is humility, modesty, and sober realism. Second, no political order, no matter how good, can ever constitute a just society. Errors in moral judgment can’t be avoided. These errors also grow exponentially in their complexity as they move from lower to higher levels of society and governance. Therefore, the Christian needs to be loyal to her nation and obedient to its legitimate rulers. But she also needs to cultivate a critical vigilance about both.
Third, despite these concerns, Christians still have a duty to take part in public life according to their God-given abilities, even when their faith brings them into conflict with public authority. We can’t ignore or withdraw from civic affairs. The classic civic virtues named by Cicero—prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance—can be renewed and elevated, to the benefit of all citizens, by the Christian virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Therefore, political engagement is a worthy Christian task, and public office is an honorable Christian vocation. Fourth, in governing as best they can, while conforming their lives and their judgments to the content of the gospel, Christian leaders in public life can accomplish real good. Their success will always be limited and mixed. It will never be ideal. But with the help of God they can improve the moral quality of society.
What Augustine believes about Christian leaders, we can extend to the vocation of all Christian citizens. The skills of the Christian citizen are simple: a zeal for Jesus Christ and his Church; a conscience formed in humility and rooted in Scripture and the believing community; the prudence to see which issues in public life are vital and foundational to human dignity, and which are not; and the courage to work for what’s right. We don’t cultivate these skills on our own. We develop them together as Christians, in prayer, on our knees, in the presence of Jesus Christ.
My favorite Christmas carol is “Of the Father’s Love Begotten.” The words are nearly 1,700 years old. They’re taken from a poem by Aurelius Prudentius Clemens, one of the great Christian writers of the fourth century. The work of Prudentius was shaped by his belief that the recent conversion of the Roman Empire, or at least of its emperors, had marked the start of a new and brilliant human epoch of light and peace. Less than fifty years later, barbarians were at the gates of Hippo, Rome was sacked, the empire was falling apart, and Augustine was writing the City of God, indicting Rome’s pride, corruption, and brutality. And yet, here we are. Put bluntly: No matter how badly we screw things up, God never abandons his Church or his people.
History, then, is the great teacher of our need for humility based on man’s record of failure, sin, and cruelty. But it is also a powerful source of hope. There are other sources of hope today—one being the existence, even in our current turmoil, of so many lay Catholics and other lay Christians who do live their faith in the public square with articulate clarity. Another is our bishops. Yes, our bishops. They take a boatload of criticism from everybody, some of it deserved. But most are good and solid men, and some are courageous teachers of the faith.
My last reason for hope is quite personal, but I think a version of it resides in each of our lives. In December my wife and I celebrated our fiftieth anniversary, and I still look at her with desire and delight. (I can’t speak for her, but she has stuck around.) We owe those five decades to our faith in Jesus Christ, the support and love of generous Christian friends, and the beauty of the Church, which is always there, always true, and always more vivid than the warts and blunders of her people and her leaders. Each of those fifty years was consumed by everyday difficulties and joys, which so often obscure the larger picture. But in retrospect, our life has been a long record of blessings, in our work, in our friends, and especially in our children. We have a son with Down syndrome, and he’s a gift to us as parents and to each of his siblings because he makes us human, and he prevents us from ever dismissing the dignity of any individual soul. Everyone is invited to some version of this kind of joy—a life that means something beautiful because God is good and wills it for us.
Hope feeds and grows on the experience of love, the will to persist in that love, and the letting go of anger, no matter how vicious or lunatic the times. Nations rise and fall. Ours has no special immunity. But in the meantime, God and his love for us endure. When we really believe that, and trust in it, and conform our personal and public lives to it, then we have something important to contribute to our country and to the world.
Francis X. Maier is a senior fellow in Catholic studies at the Ethics and Public Policy Center and a senior research associate at the University of Notre Dame.
Wednesday, 24 March 2021
Sung Mass according to
Divine Worship - The Missal
has resumed Sundays at 12:30 noon
Choral settings of the Mass will be sung:
Palm Sunday -- March 28
Easter Sunday -- April 4
Pentecost -- May 23
Patronal Festival -- June 27