liturgy – Liturgy and Life

March 28, 2024

Rogue One and the Paschal Mystery

As this year’s holy week and Triduum celebrations commence, I’d like to repost an article I wrote for another blog in 2017, soon after the release of a film that is often named as the best of the new Star Wars films: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016). Not only is this film in need of further attention here on Liturgy and Life, but the timing is good too: in the Great Paschal Triduum, Catholics celebrate the Paschal Mystery of Christ in a prolonged, three-day liturgy that begins on Holy Thursday, moves through the triumph of the cross on Good Friday and concludes at the Easter Vigil on Holy Saturday with the initiation of new members and a festive celebration of the Resurrection. A liturgist friend calls this three-day season (the shortest in the Church year) “Paschal-palooza,” and rightly so. During the Triduum, we Catholics perform the symbolically richest, most lavish rituals we have to glorify a God who saves us by sending his own son to show us what conformity to God’s will really means (spoiler alert: it’s death). Yet death does not have the last word, and we are sanctified by the saving power of Christ’s humility “to the point of death, even death on a Cross” (Phil. 2:8).

Rogue One always struck me as a film with a lot to teach us everyday people about the Paschal Mystery: the loving self-sacrifice that brings new life and new hope. In a 2023 “Actors on Actors” interview between Star Wars stars Hayden Christensen (Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader) and Diego Luna (Cassian Andor), Luna reflects that what makes Rogue One (and its excellent, must-watch Disney+ spin-off Andor) special is there are no Jedi—the magic is absent from this corner of the galaxy far, far away. The ordinary people of these stories must rely on themselves—and only themselves—to solve galactic problems. They are, Luna said, “simple, regular people doing extraordinary things.” Christ’s ultimate actions are meant to inspire and guide us in the same way: he was one of us—our brother, our friend. Being more like Christ does not mean learning magic or developing superpowers. It means learning to listen to and follow the will of God. Any simple, ordinary person can do it, but one must have faith, hope and—above all—love. These three gifts are exemplified by characters in Rogue One.

May 4, 2023May 4, 2023

How (and why) to celebrate May the Fourth

Members of the Rebel Legion pose at the Ohio History Connection in 2022.

May the Fourth be with you! Today is a very festive day for Star Wars fans. Here is your guide to making the most of it… or just making sense of it, if you’re baffled by the sudden surge of interest in a galaxy far, far away.

October 25, 2021October 25, 2021

New Podcast Introduces “Hidden Figure” Fr. Clarence Rivers

Fall is my favorite time of year, but this Fall is extra special, as it marks the release of a project that has been a long time in the making: a new podcast exploring the life, legacy and my own brief, personal encounter with Black Catholic priest, composer and liturgical pioneer, Fr. Clarence Joseph Rivers. Since November is Black Catholic History Month, there’s no better time for this launch.

From the official press release:

“The podcast seeks to introduce Fr. Rivers to Catholics of any color who have never heard of Rivers or the profound impact he made on the way Catholic worship looks and sounds today.

“Created and co-hosted by Emily Strand (of the podcasts Beyond the Words and Potterversity), Meet Father Rivers seeks out individuals who knew Rivers at all stages of his career—from the youthful optimism of his early years to the disillusionment and isolation he seemed to experience toward the end of his life. Strand and guests dialogically uncover hidden truths of Rivers’ (and their own) personal history, revealing both the gift of Blackness and the impact of racism and oppression—historical and ongoing—in the American Catholic Church.

October 23, 2020October 23, 2020

Voting and the Liturgy

I voted today. Standing in the long line snaking all the way around the Franklin County, Ohio Board of Elections felt like being inside some strange but essential internal organ of our democracy. As I walked lazily through the line’s many twists and turns for nearly an hour, masked and six feet from the next voter, I reminded myself that standing in this line to cast my ballot is likely the most important act of my secular life in a democracy.

But voting is also a fundamentally Catholic and even liturgical thing to do.

May 26, 2020July 3, 2020

Liturgical Loneliness

In Ohio, public worship resumes for Catholics this weekend, and I have a confession to make: I haven’t missed receiving the Eucharist once since the pandemic began. I feel guilty even typing that, since so many folks have had to settle for “spiritual communion” during these long weeks and months of quarantine. A woman told me recently that not being able to receive Jesus has felt like a piece of her heart is missing. A liturgy scholar I know said receiving communion again recently, for the first time in months, was like celebrating his first communion all over again. I bet it was even better.

Quarantined Palm Sunday (photo by Emily)

I am simply lucky – that’s why I’ve been at the Eucharistic table in a physical way during this time. I am lucky our Church decided to live-stream our Mass, when so many neighboring parishes simply – and with profound regret – closed their doors. I am lucky to have musical gifts that benefit our live-streamed Mass. I am lucky to have had parents who taught me to recognize my gifts as God-given, and return them to God, in service of the Church, whenever possible. I am lucky that my gifts are found useful by my parish community. I am lucky to be under 65 with no underlying health issues. I am lucky to have stayed well.

But I do not feel lucky when I look down from the choir loft at a nearly-empty Church, at an absent assembly. I just feel lonely. And liturgical loneliness is a difficult thing.