by Fred Moleck
Easter Mystery, Easter Joy
Rocco Palmo—in his March 24 (Easter Monday) blog, Whispers in the Loggia—posted some of the most hopeful numbers I’ve read in the past ten years. It was the tally of catechumens and people entering full communion of the church this past Holy Saturday.I’ve extracted them with his introductory remarks.
The spirit and verve that once made the Northeast the undisputed engine of the Stateside church—and the envy of the world—has now shifted, and dramatically so, to
places like the Carolinas, Georgia, Utah, Arkansas, Arizona, Colorado, Texas, and Washington . . . as in “State.”. . .On Easter Night [the Holy Saturday Easter Vigil] in these places, RCIA classes of fifteen, thirty, fifty or more are no exception. . . .
In the Lone Star state—where the faithful recently overtook Evangelicals to become Texas’ largest religious group—the archdiocese of Galveston-Houston and the diocese of Dallas (its Catholic contingent grown five-fold to a million-plus since . . . 1990) each welcomed more than 2,000 catechumens and candidates into full communion at Saturday’s Vigil.
That’s two thousand!
St. Mark and Good Shepherd Catholic Church in Garland [Texas] have the highest number of catechumens—those who’ve completed preparations to join— a combined 500 adults and children, among the 74 parishes in the diocese’s nine-county area. (Quoted from Dallas Morning News)
That’s five hundred!
Mind you, these figures are for two parishes, not dioceses. I know bishops who would love to have their diocese welcome five hundred new Catholics.
How does this happen? What secrets do these Texans have?
Well, many of the people present in these churches are transplants from the northeastern United States. When they come to some parishes in Texas, or Washington, or parts of the mid Midwest, they encounter a different understanding of church and a different approach to worship.
Some returned to the church. They are fed. They are nourished.
New converts such as Guy Hollis, a Dallas-area irrigation specialist, embraced the idea in the name of family. The more he accompanied his wife, Chachi, to Sunday Mass, the more he became interested in her faith. He and their preschooler and toddler were among the 300 entering Good Shepherd in Garland. (Quoted from Dallas Morning News)
Two parishes—500 converts. Priceless. And mind-blowing.
(Special thanks to Rocco Palmo for permitting this reporting excerpt.)
Easter mystery. Easter joy.
I have another Easter mystery–Easter joy to share. It’s not so spectacular, but it is equally grace filled.
I planned to spend the Triduum again this year at the liturgical oasis of Daylesford Abbey near Philadelphia. The Norbertines there with the liturgical and music leadership “get it.”
The music is fine. The liturgy is fine. The preaching is fine. Nothing has ever caused me to wonder why I made the trip from Pittsburgh.
The big difference this year, however, is that I played the organ for the four liturgies. And that meant that in the seven days before the Triduum (I was petitioned to “please, oh, please help us”) I spent several hours trying to regain organ skills and learn the repertory.
But that’s not what I want to share.
In the community’s infirmary was the founding abbot, John Neitzel, who was quietly awaiting his death.
He had been diagnosed with lung cancer and refused further treatment. It was just a matter of time. The whole community and the rest of us onlookers watched and waited.
One of the attending priests consoled him, “Father, you can go whenever God wants.
He replied, “Easter.”
After a powerful celebration of the Triduum, word came to the musicians and those who had already gathered in the abbey church for the 10:30 a.m. Resurrection Mass that Abbot John died at 9:45, forty-five minutes before the Mass.
Incidentally, it was his eighty-fourth birthday.
Easter mystery, Easter joy. Alleluia, Jesus is risen!
You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@comcast.net