“He Descended into Hell…”

We say this every time we recite the Apostles Creed, but what in the world does it mean? Why would the Lord Jesus descend into hell? What did He do while He was there? God going to hell sounds too strange and paradoxical to have any real meaning. Yet there it is, in the middle of the Creed, set amidst the most essential Christian beliefs.

Take a look at the picture above. This was the standard depiction of Easter in every Christian Church for a thousand years. It’s not the picture we’ve become used to, of Christ rising at sunrise, victorious from His tomb. The old ikon doesn’t show Easter morning at all. For 50 generations, our Christian ancestors knew the Easter Feast began not at sunrise, but in the midnight depths of hell, where Christ the Lord descended to crush death and destroy every human fear.

That’s what the ancient Easter ikon depicts. Christ has descended to hell. He’s knocked down its doors (notice the shape they fell into), broken its chains and shattered its locks (see them laying in the blackness). He stretches out his hands to an old man and woman, lifting them from their graves. They’re Adam and Eve, our first father and mother. Around them stand other figures of the Old Testament, particularly the prophets. They look on in adoration, rejoicing that the Day they so long ago predicted has come at last.

Christ descended into hell. He submitted His humanity to the death common to us all so His divinity could break the grip in which death held every one of us.

St John Chrysostom said:

“Hell took a body, and met God face to face.
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took that which was seen, and was crushed by what it could not see.”

It was necessary for Christ to descend into hell, as it was necessary for Him to be born, necessary that He be tempted, necessary for Him to be crucified, necessary for Him to rise from the dead, appear to His disciples and commission them as His Apostles, to ascend in His glorified humanity to Heaven, necessary for Him to send on His Church the Holy Ghost. His birth, death, descent to hell, resurrection and ascension are all one thing: the way He redeemed mankind.

Christ descended to hell because that’s where we're all headed without Him. Since Adam, every single one of us had made the same choice Adam did: we choose ourselves over God, selfishness over generosity, sin over holiness. What we don’t grasp is that in making those choices, we’re choosing death over life. The ikon shows Christ lifting Adam and Eve from death; in lifting them, He lifts us from death, too.

The great sixth-century bishop and poet, Venantius Fortunatus, in his hymn The Royal Banners, depicts Christ on the Cross, not as a suffering victim, but as a victorious King: “God is reigning from the Tree.” Christ descended into hell not as its victim but its Conqueror.

What is death and hell to you and me? To us, who share the redeemed humanity of Christ (that’s what your baptism really means), death has the same power a third-grade bully holds over an adult. Christ has risen and we are free. Rejoice for these fifty days—and live a life worthy of that which Christ has given you. Always and in all things rejoice. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia,—Fr Gregory Wilcox

THE PASCHAL SERMON OF ST JOHN CHRYSOSTOM

If any of you is devout and a lover of God,
enjoy this fair and radiant triumphal feast.

If any of you is a wise servant,
enter with delight into the joy of your Lord.

If any of you have labored long in fasting,
now receive your recompense.

If you have wrought from the first hour,
today receive your just reward.
If you have come at the third hour,
keep this feast with thanksgiving.
If you have arrived at the sixth hour,
have no misgivings, you shall in no wise be deprived.
If you have delayed until the ninth hour,
draw near, and fear nothing.
If you have tarried even until the eleventh hour,
be not alarmed at your tardiness;
for the Lord, who is jealous of His honor,
will accept the last even as the first.

He gives rest unto the one who comes at the eleventh hour,
even as unto him who has worked from the first.

He shows mercy upon the last, and cares for the first;
to the one he gives, and upon the other he bestows gifts.

He both accepts the deed, and welcomes the intention,
He honors the act and praises the offering.

Wherefore, enter ye all into the joy of your Lord,
and receive your reward, both the first and also the second.

You rich and poor together, hold high festival.
You sober and you heedless, honor the day.

Rejoice today, both you who have fasted
and you who have ignored the fast.

The table is fully laden; let all feast sumptuously.
The calf is fatted; let no one go hungry away.
Enjoy the feast of faith;
receive all the riches of loving-kindness.

Let no one bewail his poverty,
for the universal kingdom has been revealed.

Let no one weep for his iniquities,
for pardon has shone forth from the grave.

Let no one fear death,
for the Savior's death has set us free:
He that was held prisoner of it has annihilated it.

By descending into hell, He made hell His captive.
He sickened it when it tasted of his flesh.

Isaiah, foretelling this, cried:
“Hell was embittered when it encountered thee in the lower regions."

Hell was embittered, for it was abolished.
It was embittered, for it was mocked.
It was embittered, for it was slain.
It was embittered, for it was overthrown.
It was embittered, for it was fettered in chains.

It took a body, and met God face to face.
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took that which was seen, and fell before the Unseen.

O Death, where is thy sting?
O Hell, where is thy victory?

Christ is risen, and you are overthrown.
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen.
Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice.
Christ is risen, and life reigns.
Christ is risen, and not one dead remains in the grave.

For Christ, being risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
To Him be glory and dominion unto ages of ages. Amen.

Quo Vadis?

I have a good friend whose wife is slowly succumbing to Alzheimer’s. What’s more, she knows it. She struggles every day to combat its pernicious impact on their lives and has learned a lot of coping mechanisms, but every time I speak to my friend, she has just a little more trouble than the time before.

She’s his boon companion and a delightfully gentle woman—the love of his life. He’s a retired marine colonel, tough as nails, but her influence on him over the decades has—not softened him, but—enabled him to view life and the world with kindness. He goes to daily Mass and makes regular retreats with the Benedictines in Gethsemani, Kentucky. I am lucky to have him as my friend.

I’ve prayed daily for and about the both of them for years. I don’t ask the Lord anymore for answers to my questions. Why this terrible thing came to them is beyond my understanding. What I can do is pray for them and ask the Lord to make their burden bearable and to give me some small share of their load. That’s easy, since they’re 1,500 miles away.

The other night I was saying my prayers and remembered the two of them before God. I prayed as I usually do, asking the Lord to help the two of them to bear it and still be assured of the certainty of His love. I asked Him to allow me to bear some small part of their burden. I was immediately struck: “Is that what you really want? How far will you go to share their heartache?”

I was shocked—and scared. What would God ask of me? What would I really be willing to do for my good friends?

Those who know me know I have a stony heart, but I pride myself (in the worst way) on my intellect. I can think of nothing worse than Alzheimer’s which robs you of the mind. Until the other night I never seriously considered the possibility that I would come down with it. For me, surrounded with a lifetime’s collection of books, many as dear to me as the closest of friends, with my cherished memories and intellectual joys, what would it be to have it all slip into oblivion? Could I ever be as brave and noble as my good friend’s wife? What does it mean to have the companion of a lifetime slowly slip away—not to die, but to seem to disappear? The two of them are walking a dreadful road to Calvary. They walk it with the Lord Jesus, but it’s hard for me to imagine a Way of the Cross more painful.

When I compare all my sufferings and sorrows to theirs, I’m ashamed to call anything that has ever happened to me “suffering.” The Lord said “To whom much is given, of him much is required.” When we say to Jesus that we want to follow Him, to be His disciples, He tells us unequivocally to pick up our Cross and start after Him. We don’t know what our Cross will look like, but it will be heavy and costly. It will also be full of Grace.

As I look at my friends, I am full of admiration for the love and patience they show each other. I’ve never seen a more unselfish picture of Love—not just the love a married couple has for each other; through this terrible trial, this Cross they both carry, their love has transcended the natural affections. It’s the Love of Jesus you see alive in them. Their hard, daily struggles are unvarnished signs of Grace.

During Passiontide we consider what it means for us to follow the Lord Christ on the Way of the Cross. Hidden around us are those who are actually doing it. They lovingly pick it up every day and continue on the Way to Calvary. The pain and suffering of our lives can be stuff to whine about; we can think of going to Friday night Stations as walking the Way of the Cross, but if we ask the Lord, not for suffering but for Grace to follow Him, we’ll each discover our own Cross. It’s been custom-made, just for you. It’s probably been lying around and you’ve averted your gaze for years. I don’t blame you one bit.

“But to as many as received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons of God.”

Passiontide & Holy Week

The last two weeks of Lent, from Passion Sunday (the Fifth Sunday in Lent) until Holy Saturday (the day before Easter), are called Passiontide. The second week of Passiontide, called Holy Week, includes some of the principal days of the Church Year: Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Vigil of Easter (Easter Even). The three main days of Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday often go by their ancient Latin title, the Triduum Sacrum (the Three Holy Days).

From New Testament times, Christians specially observed Easter. While every Sunday recalled the Lord’s Resurrection, by the end of the first century, Christians also kept a spring-time Easter celebration near the date of the Jewish Passover. Beginning a few centuries after the birth of Christ, many Christians traveled to Jerusalem from across the Mediterranean world to re-live the Lord’s last few days on the sacred sites themselves. The ceremonies associated with Holy Week have their origins in the worship of the churches in Jerusalem during those early days of pilgrimage.

The Lenten color used in most churches today on vestments and hangings is purple. But in medieval English churches—and still today in quite a few churches in England—the Altars and churches are hung in what is called “the Lenten Array,” unbleached linen with decorations (often the “symbols of the Passion”) colored with blacks, reds and dark oxblood. It’s customary for the weeks of Passiontide to veil all the crosses, holy pictures and statues within the church. In medieval England, these veils were placed not just during Passiontide, but for the whole of Lent. Another custom, almost completely vanished, is the Lenten sanctuary veil. This giant veil was hung at the Altar rail entirely blocking the view of the sanctuary. When the sanctuary veil was used, it was drawn back during Mass just enough to let the congregation see the Altar.

The services of Holy Week include the blessing and procession of palms on Palm Sunday. The Passion Gospel (according to St Matthew) is read, the clergy and people taking the various “parts.” The Mass of Maundy Thursday celebrates the Lord’s institution of the Eucharist. After the Mass is concluded, it’s customary for the priest to wash the feet of his parishioners; then, the Altar and appointments of the church are all stripped while Psalm 22 (“My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?”) is chanted and all leave the church in silence. On Good Friday, special readings and collects precede the unveiling and veneration of the Cross. Ancient practice forbids the celebration of the Mass from Maundy Thursday until the first Mass of Easter. The Holy Saturday services begin in the evening, with the blessing of the New Fire, the blessing of the Paschal candle, the Paschal Procession and the singing of the Exultet, an ancient Easter Proclamation.

Pope St Leo the Great, in a sermon he preached in AD 457, said, “We not only know about the reconciliation of the world wrought by the Son of God by hearing of these past events, but through the power and work of God, we ourselves experience these things through the mystery of the Liturgy and Sacraments.” For us, these services are not remembrances of the past, but the Saving Acts of God present with us now.

The services of Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday are some of the most ancient and beautiful of the Church Year. They will all be celebrated at St Joseph’s this Passiontide. They are the perfect prelude to the grand festivities of Easter Day. I hope you will join in as much as you can.—Fr Gregory Wilcox

St Joseph the Wrestler

This weekend we’ll anticipate St Joseph’s Day (Monday, March 19) by celebrating his feast on Sunday. Rose Sunday seems a good day for keeping a feast. So we’ll be setting up St Joseph’s Table (after which this site is named), with tasty pasta dishes, antipastos, festive breads, Italian creams, gelatos and wine. This is the way to keep a feast during a fast!

The veneration of St Joseph dates from before 800 AD, when he was celebrated as the “guardian of the Lord.” Over the centuries he’s been seen as the ideal of masculine chastity, the protector of families and in 1870, Pope Pius XII declared him the Patron of the Universal Church (he also has become the upside-down-underground intercessor for those Americans anxious to sell their homes!—if you do’t know what I mean by this, don’t ask; some things it’s better not to know). Among the Eastern Orthodox churches, St Joseph is called on as “the righteous Joseph the Betrothed.” St Ephrem the Syrian depicts St Joseph as crying: “Who hath given me the Son of the Most High to be a Son to me?”

There’s much to ponder about St Joseph, much to emulate and much to inspire.

St Joseph embodies masculine chastity, a never-too-popular virtue. If you Google “masculinity,” you won’t find “chastity” linked to it. Chastity hints at anemic and unmanly connotations, with androgyny and latent homosexuality lurking just below its surface. The devil has done his work well.

For many, chastity and celibacy are the same thing. They’re not. It’s possible to be chaste but not celibate, and celibate, but not chaste. All Christians are called to chastity—including every Christian man—but not all Christians are called to celibacy.

Chastity comes from the Latin castus, meaning “pure.” Bearing that in mind, I can be celibate because I might not have the opportunity to be otherwise, but I am chaste by choice. There’s nothing manly about the indulgence of unchastity—nothing challenging nor disciplined—but anybody who follows St Joseph’s chastity soon discovers how easy wrassling alligators is by comparison. Chastity is limp-wristed only to those who’ve never wrassled with unchastity.

“Righteous Joseph the Betrothed” wrassled. He wrassled with doubts about St Mary (and her chastity!), with doubts about what God was doing to him, and with God’s unique call to him to be the “guardian of the Lord.” He was called to be the chaste and celibate spouse of the Virgin. No doubt he wrassled with that, too.

By grace he succeeded. St Joseph lived up to his calling and more. Because he followed where God led, because he took up the castus to which he was called, the Lord opened Joseph’s heart: “Who hath given me the Son of the Most High to be a Son to me?”

His calling to chastity was a high one. Ours is no less.—Fr Gregory Wilcox

The Noonday Devil

Three weeks into Lent—we’re not quite half-way through the Fast, but far enough into it for you to have a sense of how it’s going. Some of us never really began the Fast at all, those tell themselves it’s just not for them; some of us started to keep a good Lent, but when their intentions wore thin, they let it go. Some of us are still trying. For the first ten days or so, your stomach made occasional protestations as it mourned the loss of its accustomed foods, but now that’s pretty much past. Whatever the Lenten disciplines are that we’ve chosen, we’ve getting used to them now: we’ve learned our Lenten prayers, we’re setting aside our alms, we’re not too tempted by the rows of Ghirardelli chocolates we pass in the store. We’ve got it under control.

That’s when the noonday devil worms in.

The “noonday devil” is mentioned in Psalm 91: “the devil that walketh at noonday.” The noonday devil saps the fervor of our faith: he leaves behind a dullness of spirit, a lack of energy for the challenges of the Spirit, boredom with the things of God. The noonday devil watches, waits, and creeps up unnoticed. He wants us to feel that “I’ve tried that”—prayer, fasting, almsgiving, forgiving enemies, restraining my tongue, saying my prayers every day, being nice to the co-worker I don’t like, reading the Bible—“but it doesn’t really make a difference. I’m not a saint, you know.”

The noonday devil doesn’t tempt us with sizzling enticements to sin, but with dull, ordinary ones—so ordinary we don’t even notice them; they don’t seem to be temptations at all. We’re not tempted to abandon our Faith, or become apostates from God: all we’re tempted to do is take a long, spiritual nap.

The noonday devil doesn’t strike at us—actually, he doesn’t “strike” at all, he insinuates himself—not only during Lent, but Lent is certainly one of his busiest times. Those who keep the Fast need to guard against his guile more than those who don’t—he’s already bagged the rest. We need to do an occasional spiritual inventory. Am I complacent with my keeping of Lent? Self-satisfied? Do I compare myself with others and secretly congratulate myself on what a good Christian I am? He’s always ready (in season and out) to sidle up to you and suggest what a very exceptional person you are—and most of us are always ready to believe he’s right!

So what do we do about spiritual self-complacency? How do I tweak the nose of the noonday devil?

There’s no need to try and “rev up” our spirits to produce an emotional excitement about our religion or whip up a sense of enthusiasm for our Faith. Our fundamentalist neighbors do just that with their periodic “revivals.” Such things don’t last. They produce a roller coaster sort of spirituality, centered less on my spiritual life than on my feelings.

So what do we do?

We continue. We plod on. We say our prayers when we don’t want to, fast when we want to eat, give when we want to grasp, be kind when we want to snarl. If we determine to do those things, it’s certain we’ll sometimes fail. We’ll skip our prayers now and then, eat what we’ve said we wouldn’t, be selfish when we’ve been given an opportunity to be generous. That’s when our Lenten test really comes. None of us will keep perfect Lents. What matters is what you do when you realize you’ve stumbled. If you “pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again,” then you’re finding your way to a truly holy Lent. Then you realize you’re not keeping Lent for yourself and your sense of accomplishment. You’re learning humility the hard way (which, incidentally, is the only way it can be learned!).
Against that, the noonday devil has no snare; and your Lent is well-spent.—Fr Gregory Wilcox

Shrove Tuesday and Ash Wenesday

Shrove Tuesday
February 21, 2012

6.30 PM Gathering of the Cooks
7.00 PM Evening Prayer
7.30 PM The Mardi Gras Festivities Commence: The Crowning of the Queen, the Pancake Fanfare and Procession; the Eating; the Jokes; the Last Bite before Lent; the Forgiveness

Ash Wednesday Services
February 22, 2012

7.00 AM—The Penitential Office, Imposition of Ashes and Holy Communion from the Reserved Sacrament

10.00 AM—Morning Prayer and the Imposition of Ashes

12.00 PM—The Penitential Office, Sermon and Imposition of Ashes

7.00 PM—Evening Prayer, the Penitential Office and Mass

Fr Wilcox will be available to hear Confessions from 7.30 AM until 12.00 PM and from 5.00 PM until 6.45,