Today is Wednesday of the 4th Week of Lent.
We hear about the ancient Roman Station church, St. Paul’s outside-the-walls, about what ancient catechumens experienced, something by St. Augustine about what “40 days” means for us, and, of course, the Collects in both forms of the Roman Rite. And… something from Pope Benedict XVI.
From Augustine:
The present time of weeping, symbolized by the forty days of Lent, is the time in which we live and which we symbolize in ourselves; the time of joy, peace, and reigning, symbolized by the days of the Pentecost, is expressed by our alleluia, though we do not yet truly possess these praises.
From Benedict:
Day after day we are, as it were, covered by many forms of dirt— empty words, prejudices, reduced and altered wisdom. A multifaceted semi-falsity or falsity constantly infiltrates us deep within. All this clouds and contaminates our souls, threatening us with an incapacity for truth and the good.
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St Augustine says « the time in which we hope to one day live ».
I apologise for the length of this post, Father! In “The End of the Present World and the Mysteries of the Future Life”, Fr Charles Arminjon recounts how the people of Hippo reacted when hearing St Augustine describe Heaven, it’s such an uplifing passage:
“One day, St Augustine was describing the marvels of the city of God to his people of Hippo. He did so with a voice charged with emotion, with that golden eloquence, nurtured at the fount of Scripture which made it seem that an angel was speaking, not an inhabitant of the earth. The assembled people were deeply moved and captivated, and felt as if transported to those feasts of eternity of which such a striking picture was being drawn for them, having a kind of vision of that day when the Lord would adorn the brows of the faithful with an imperishable laurel. Suddenly, their emotion was so great that they broke into groans and cries of wonder, and tears flowed from every eye. The respect due to the majesty of the sacred precincts and the silence imposed by the presence of the speaker were forgotten, and each one invoked the day when, far from all affliction, he would drink abundantly of the waters of truth and life. Each trembled lest, overcome by his frailty or led astray by seductions, he might be deprived of the blessed vision. From all sides of the holy place rang out the words:
O beautiful heaven, when shall I see you? Shall I be so senseless as to prefer the pleasures and fortune of a day to you? Who would not consent to purchase you at the price of the heaviest sacrifices and labors?
Interrupted by these exclamations and sighs, and surprised at the effect produced by his words, St Augustine was no less moved than the multitude. He wanted to proceed, to continue with the portrait of the heavenly Jerusalem he had begun; but the sobbing of his listeners and of his own emotion stifled his voice; and his tears, mingling with those of his people, formed, as it were, a torrent of mourning for the sorrows of exile and the remoteness of the beloved fatherland”.
I have a fond memory of quietly praying before St. Paul’s tomb at St. Paul Outside the Walls, then all of a sudden being surrounded by about a hundred singing Spanish pilgrims and their priest. Only in Roma I guess…. Some more deep thoughts from Benedict, mille grazie.