One of the major changes in the liturgy was to widen the amount of readings from the Bible, during the Mass and in all the sacramental rites. "The treasures of the bible are to be opened up more lavishly so that a richer fare may be provided for the faithful at the table of the Word." With a three-year cycle of readings for Sunday Masses (and two-year cycle for weekday Masses) over 90% of the bible is heard and proclaimed.
The old-time Catholic saying that "the bible is for Protestants only" is downright false, and rejected by Vatican II. From the earliest days of the church, the apostles and disciples reflected on the Hebrew Scriptures and listened to the at-first oral, and then, written, gospel stories of Jesus Christ, written down by evangelists Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Every Catholic is called to be an attentive, active listener of the Word of God during the Mass, and student of the sacred authors.
Christ is truly present in the word, as well as in the sacrament of the altar. Homilies and sacramental signs, too, are to be biblically grounded. All Catholics are also to pray from the Sacred Scriptures daily, in our homes and personal prayer, or in the Liturgy of the Hours, and in various non-Eucharistic services of the Word. Our reading of the books of the bible at home will enhance our attentive listening to the Word of God in church.
THE PASCHAL MYSTERY. As I walked up the aisle I felt a huge lump in my chest. How could I possibly celebrate the funeral Mass of my own father? I could barely put one foot in front of the other. My brothers and friends accompanied Dad's casket to bring his body lovingly to the front of the church. But the Holy Spirit was with me as I found the strength to sprinkle Dad's casket with holy water, and pray very familiar words: "In the waters of baptism my father, Frank, died with Christ and rose with Christ to new life. May he now share with Christ eternal glory."
The liturgies of the Catholic Church should use words and symbols that are understandable to the people. But there are a few special phrases which every Catholic needs to know. One of them is "Paschal Mystery." The glossary of the Catechism of the Catholic Church defines Paschal Mystery as "Christ's work of redemption accomplished principally by his Passion, death, resurrection and glorious ascension, whereby 'dying he destroyed our death, rising he restored our life.'" Through the union of God and man, humanity is once again reconciled with the Father in and through Christ Jesus. As St. Paul wrote, "Since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead came also through a human being." (1 Cor 15:21)
The "paschal" of the phrase means "lamb," as in Jesus as the Lamb of God. It is the Lamb of God who dies on the cross, only in mystery to rise from the tomb three days later.
The whole church is born out of the Paschal Mystery. The church's liturgical and sacramental life, as well as the proclamation of the Gospels, make the Paschal Mystery present to the faithful. Through the sacrament of baptism men and women are initiated into the dying and rising of Christ. Through the sacrament of confirmation the baptized are strengthened by the Holy Spirit. Through the sacrament of the Eucharist (the Mass), the Church comes to know, in the Sacred Liturgy Constitution's words, that "the liturgy is the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; it is also the source from which all its power flows." Our faith in Jesus the Christ, who was born, lived, taught, healed, suffered, died on the cross and rose from the dead, is renewed and nourished when we come together at Mass.
The Eucharist is a sacred meal, and offers us the Body and Blood of Christ to feed us. The Mass is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, which is our hoped-for destiny after our death. The Eucharist is also an unbloody sacrifice. Christ died for our sins on the cross, in an act of total obedience to the will of the heavenly Father. We remember and re-present his sacrifice in the Mass, and look forward to a new destiny after our deaths in the blessedness of heaven.
In the homily I offered at my Dad's funeral, I tried to tell stories of how he gave everything of himself in love to my mother, through 57 years of marriage, and to my brothers and me. Dad never wanted to receive gifts for his birthday. He only wanted to give gifts. He drove my brothers and me to ball games, to dances and meetings, and to 8:00 a.m. Mass every Sunday. He showed us what sacrifice meant. Dad lived out the Paschal Mystery in his almost 84 years on earth. That's why I believe Dad (and Mom) are saints in heaven.
It may sound cheesy but in the homily I quoted the refrain of a Bruce Springsteen song, "Into the Fire," done in tribute to the firefighters who lost their lives at the World Trade Center in New York City on September 11, 2001. I felt the refrain captured Dad's spirit of giving too:
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love bring us love.
VERNACULAR LANGUAGE. We priests had flown to tiny Talara, Peru, to visit Father Jack Price, a Pittsburgh priest and missionary. It was Saturday morning, and the other priests had gone to the market to buy food. A grizzled old man knocked at the door of the rectory. I welcomed him in, saying one of the few words I knew in Spanish, "Buenos dias, senor." He rattled off a long paragraph. I looked stupid, I didn't understand him. I mumbled, "No hablo espanol." He said, "Padre?" I said "Si! Padre Francisco." And somehow I got the message that this gentleman wanted to go to confession. So we sat, I made the sign of the cross in Latin (very close to Spanish, I thought), I motioned for him to express his sins. He did, in Spanish. Is aid the absolution prayer over him, in English. I told him his penance was "uno Padre Nuestro" [one Our Father]. The man grinned, we embraced in a sign of peace, and he left. Somehow, despite our language differences, we celebrated the sacrament of penance.
Language can separate and language can unite. For hundreds of years after the Council of Trent (1543-1575), the Roman Catholic Church prayed the Mass in Latin. There was a universality about this ancient language. The Mass was the same, whether said in Spain, Canada, Brazil, Korea, or Tanzania. But few people knew Latin. Most of the faithful needed a book, with Latin on the left, their particular language on the right, to understand what the priest was saying and doing.
After the Second Vatican Council the Roman Catholic Church went back to the earlier tradition, that of celebrating the Eucharist and the sacraments in the language of the people. Whether in Aramaic (the language Jesus spoke), Greek (the language Saints Peter and Paul knew, and the language of the markets around the Mediterranean Sea), German, French, Spanish, or any of the 200 languages of the world, the Mass would be "in the vernacular," that is, the particular voice of the people. The key here is understanding. Now the people (and sometimes the priest!) would know what the prayers said, and would be able to truly pray the prayers, not just rattle off the Latin whose meaning was obscure. We are blessed to celebrate the Mass and the sacraments in the particular language we speak and know.
In an ironic way today, once in a while Latin can unite, too. Latin is often the language of the Mass when people of many tongues gather--say, at a papal liturgy in St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, or at a place of pilgrimage. And we treasure certain songs and Mass responses which were set by famous composers to Latin centuries ago. (For example, "Tantum Ergo" or "Pater Noster.")
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