Ascension of the Lord A
My
parents still live
in
the very same house as the day I was born nearly 40 years ago.
Much
of my family still attends Mass
in
the very same church where I was baptized.
And
yet despite such stability—increasingly rare, these days—
from
an early age I got a clear sense
that
the Catholic faith, while essentially unchanging,
is
something intended to constantly be on the
move.
I
learned that lesson by going on pilgrimage.
I
have fond memories from childhood summers
of
crossing Lake Champlain and going to Mass with my family
at
St. Anne’s Shrine in Isle LaMotte, Vermont.
I
remember looking intently
through
photos, postcards, and souvenir books
which
my grandparents would bring back from their visits
to religious
sites in what seemed to me then
the
far-off and exotic lands of Canada.
And
I gratefully recall coming here myself—to the Oratory—
with
Br. Roland Gaudette, my beloved French teacher
and
great encourager of my priestly vocation,
on
many a class trip from Catholic school.
I
know that, for some of you, this is your first visit
to
Br. André’s rather “modest” monument to good St. Joseph.
But
I also know that many of you
have
your own stories quite similar to mine
and
have made the journey up Mount Royal a few times before.
We
Catholics are a people with deep and sturdy roots.
But
we’re also a people who, by our very nature,
are
meant to stay on the move.
We’re
here in Montréal this afternoon on a parish
pilgrimage—
and
one of a most particular sort
as,
just one month from today, in place of its four predecessors,
a
new parish is established in Malone
and
named for St. André Bessette.
As
we come to pray at the tomb of our new patron,
it’s
worth reflecting on what it means to be on pilgrimage.
A
“pilgrimage” is “a journey to a holy place,”
and
the word comes from Latin,
literally
meaning “to go through the field”—
in
other words, to wander over some distance.
Pilgrimage
differs from other sorts of travel
not
only in the sanctity of its destination,
but
in the change that’s meant to take place along the way:
tourists
go out to see something;
pilgrims
head out to become somebody.
It’s
also worth taking a moment to reflect
on
what it means to be a parish.
In
the Catholic tradition,
a
“parish” is a sub-division within a diocese,
under
the care of a pastor and maybe some other priests,
encompassing
all the Catholics who live within its territory.
I
was surprised a few months back
to
discover just where this word comes from.
The
word “parish” comes from Greek words meaning,
literally,
“beside the house”—
in
other words, to be away from home.
Thus,
our English word “parish” comes from the very same word
that
the New Testament uses to mean “pilgrimage.”
While
we generally think of a parish
as
a fixed and well-defined group of people,
attached
to a fixed and well-defined location—
usually,
a single parish church building—
by
definition a parish is actually a community
that’s
absent from its homeland,
that’s
sojourning in a strange land:
a
parish is collection of pilgrims;
a
parish is the Church on the move.
As this
Sunday we celebrate the Lord’s Ascension
(for
us New Yorkers in exile today, for the second time in a week),
we
hear two angels addressing the Apostles
left
on the mountain top, staring up at the clouds:
“Why
are you standing there looking at the sky?”
I
can almost hear the eleven answering those angels back,
“Where
else should we be looking?
We’ve
followed Jesus down the dusty roads
and
across the rough waters of Galilee.
We’re
not about to change course now.
We
have every intention of following him to heaven, too.
But
before we head out, before we begin to move,
we
must make sure our hearts are firmly fixed
on their
ultimate destination.”
Pilgrims,
like parishes, are by definition
those
who are away from home—
making
the true goal of them both to get back there,
transformed
for having taken the journey.
The
Only Begotten Son of God
came
to earth in human flesh on a pilgrimage of love;
his
purpose all along
was
that we might make the return trip with him.
Why
else would he promise to be with us always,
if
not to be our constant companion on the way home?
Baptized
into Christ Jesus,
who
has taken his place in glory at the Father’s right hand,
our
true citizenship is in heaven.
We
haven’t arrived yet:
we’re
still across the field, still outside the house…
…but
we are on our way.
Br. André understood this truth full well.
“You
know,” he once said,
“it
is alright to wish for death
as
long as what you really want is to go to God….
When
I die, I’ll live in heaven,
so
I’ll be much closer to God than now,
and
I’ll be able to help you even more.”
St.
André, your life’s pilgrimage complete,
from
your place in heaven
pray
for us pilgrims still on the way,
pray
for our new parish just now coming to be,
pray
for a Church that is ever on the move.
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