Oil Get Back to You

Big stuff happens when you pack so much into one week: it isn't called Holey Week since it's full of holes, but instead so much grace hits all at once you're fit to bust . . .

So it was Thursday morning, even before we came to the evening liturgy of the Lord's Supper, we gathered at Saint Peter's (popular place this week--just ask the U.S. Bishops Office here in town responsible for getting passes for the liturgies to American pilgrims) for the Chrism Mass, where the bishop of the diocese blesses the oils (chrisms--a little Chris-mas in March) together with the priests of his diocese--and when that diocese happens to be Rome, that includes priests from the globe entire.

The liturgy expresses the union between the bishop and his priests, and so like the Mass later that evening which commemorates the beginning both of the Eucharist and so also the commissioning of the apostles as priestly offerers of that sacrifice, the Chrism Mass is a reflection of what it means to be a priest, as Benedict's homily showed (currently on the Vatican site only in Italian).

As a concelebrating priest you entered through the Bronze Doors to the right of the basilica itself, your clerical black wear contrasting the bright colors of the Swiss Guards.
















Note also the bright flag.





A friend in the congregation later said the priests' entrance procession took half an hour. While that might be an exaggeration, it would be only mild, considering the numbers of priests and bishops joining the cardinals and the Holy Father.












Said entrance procession passed by Constantine, here getting the 'In Hoc Signo' update.





One of the perks of being ordained: always have a seat reserved at Mass.


















In this case, a whole bunch of seats.






The whole basilica, as with all the liturgies of the week, was packed full, and after the Mass we spilled out into the piazza, which was now becoming overcast, in anticipation of the somber events of the evening and following day.









The olive tree stands before the central obelisk as we prepare for the tree of salvation to be lifted in the garden outside the city.





The rain hadn't started in earnest when Mass let out, so a group of us were able to make it over to grab a celebratory cappuccino.

You've heard of the CFRs? Crazy Friars in Robes, I think their name means. Anyways, they're here in Rome.











Come to Rome. Wear Robes. Be Happy.