Amman, 16 October, 2014
“Hagios?” The bishop’s voice sounds out over the congregation as he presents the stole, the easy yoke of the Lord that will soon cover the ordinand’s shoulders. “Hagios,” replied the congregation as one. The bishop asked again: “Hagios,” which means “holy”. “Hagios!” The congregation’s response is louder and more confident as the prelate puts the two epimanikia, the cuffs that take the place of maniple on the wrists of the candidate, from now on a prisoner of Christ. “Hagios,” the bishop asks again, showing the congregation the cingulum castitatis that will go around the new priest’s waist. “Hagios!” The response thunders up from the church’s sole nave!
Here is where we have the real experience of the power and precision of the Latin saying, “vox populi, vox Dei!” The congregation’s strength of conviction descends like perfumed sacred oil over the new priest’s forehead. It descends all the way to his heart, breaking the last traces of doubt and kindling the bright flame of love.
Now, like a docile lamb and surrounded by those who have gone before him in the ways of the Lord, he dances around the altar of God three times, kissing its corners with lips filled with desire. After kissing the bishop’s crucifix, he again kneels before the altar, symbol of Christ, resting his forehead against it and with it, all his past and all his future forever.
Yet another strong and meaningful image in the string of strong images: during the Canon after the consecration, the new priest, still accompanied by his friends holding lit candles, places himself at the foot of the altar, holding in his hands the body of Christ. In this way he approaches the body of Christ and offers himself, with Him, for the first time to the Father.
More significant moments: the Catholic bishop at the side of the principal celebrant, the Custos with twenty of his brothers, representing the Custody; numerous priests of the Melkite and Latin rites, the inevitable deacons, and the choir. His dear mother with his brothers and sisters, his grandmother and close relatives ensured the active participation of the congregation. Also present were his many friends who came to the celebration and the party that followed. At the heart of these moments: Luai. First, at the most sacred time, his spirit was in heaven and body kneeling before the altar, before his bishop. Then his body was also elevated – on his friends’ shoulders or tossed into the air and caught in their affectionate embrace.
After a long, festive evening that was attended by the Secretary of the Nunciature of Jordan, the next day was the new priest’s First Mass in his parish of origin.
It could not be less moving than the day before! Thanks to the pastor and his helpers, all the elements from the previous day were there, enriched by the eagerly awaited words of the new priest, who made us wait until the end of the mass to make us cry. He wanted in this way to obey the teaching of Pope Francis who deplores that modern man has lost the ability to cry.
The memory of his late father, gone yet almost present, and the naming of all the “angels” who have accompanied his long vocational journey, among whom the Ursuline Sisters must not be forgotten, formed a long list – true testimony that the priesthood is God’s gift to all his people. In Luai’s words one could sense the “scent of lambs”, as well as the gentle warmth of their wool and at the table… the taste of their meat.
For forty-eight hours we lived in a bubble, disconnected from reality. We did not feel like we were in the explosive Middle East; we did not see the persecution of Christians, but their joy and their great faith. Over a weekend, Luai carried us to heaven, or maybe heaven came down to earth so that we could enjoy it.
We cannot end without thanking the ones who made all this possible: the indefatigable Fra Rami and Fra Rashid of Amman, who were our hosts and said farewell with the most beautiful words: an invitation to return! And we plan to do just that!
G.G.
“Hagios?” The bishop’s voice sounds out over the congregation as he presents the stole, the easy yoke of the Lord that will soon cover the ordinand’s shoulders. “Hagios,” replied the congregation as one. The bishop asked again: “Hagios,” which means “holy”. “Hagios!” The congregation’s response is louder and more confident as the prelate puts the two epimanikia, the cuffs that take the place of maniple on the wrists of the candidate, from now on a prisoner of Christ. “Hagios,” the bishop asks again, showing the congregation the cingulum castitatis that will go around the new priest’s waist. “Hagios!” The response thunders up from the church’s sole nave!
Here is where we have the real experience of the power and precision of the Latin saying, “vox populi, vox Dei!” The congregation’s strength of conviction descends like perfumed sacred oil over the new priest’s forehead. It descends all the way to his heart, breaking the last traces of doubt and kindling the bright flame of love.
Now, like a docile lamb and surrounded by those who have gone before him in the ways of the Lord, he dances around the altar of God three times, kissing its corners with lips filled with desire. After kissing the bishop’s crucifix, he again kneels before the altar, symbol of Christ, resting his forehead against it and with it, all his past and all his future forever.
Yet another strong and meaningful image in the string of strong images: during the Canon after the consecration, the new priest, still accompanied by his friends holding lit candles, places himself at the foot of the altar, holding in his hands the body of Christ. In this way he approaches the body of Christ and offers himself, with Him, for the first time to the Father.
More significant moments: the Catholic bishop at the side of the principal celebrant, the Custos with twenty of his brothers, representing the Custody; numerous priests of the Melkite and Latin rites, the inevitable deacons, and the choir. His dear mother with his brothers and sisters, his grandmother and close relatives ensured the active participation of the congregation. Also present were his many friends who came to the celebration and the party that followed. At the heart of these moments: Luai. First, at the most sacred time, his spirit was in heaven and body kneeling before the altar, before his bishop. Then his body was also elevated – on his friends’ shoulders or tossed into the air and caught in their affectionate embrace.
After a long, festive evening that was attended by the Secretary of the Nunciature of Jordan, the next day was the new priest’s First Mass in his parish of origin.
It could not be less moving than the day before! Thanks to the pastor and his helpers, all the elements from the previous day were there, enriched by the eagerly awaited words of the new priest, who made us wait until the end of the mass to make us cry. He wanted in this way to obey the teaching of Pope Francis who deplores that modern man has lost the ability to cry.
The memory of his late father, gone yet almost present, and the naming of all the “angels” who have accompanied his long vocational journey, among whom the Ursuline Sisters must not be forgotten, formed a long list – true testimony that the priesthood is God’s gift to all his people. In Luai’s words one could sense the “scent of lambs”, as well as the gentle warmth of their wool and at the table… the taste of their meat.
For forty-eight hours we lived in a bubble, disconnected from reality. We did not feel like we were in the explosive Middle East; we did not see the persecution of Christians, but their joy and their great faith. Over a weekend, Luai carried us to heaven, or maybe heaven came down to earth so that we could enjoy it.
We cannot end without thanking the ones who made all this possible: the indefatigable Fra Rami and Fra Rashid of Amman, who were our hosts and said farewell with the most beautiful words: an invitation to return! And we plan to do just that!
G.G.