Easter Wednesday: How hungry are you?

Offertory Ps. 77:23-25
The Lord opened the doors of heaven and rained down manna upon them for food. He gave them the bread of heaven, and man ate the bread of angels, alleluia!

O Lord, we joyously offer You at Easter this Sacrament which so wondrously feeds and nourishes Your Church. 

Happy Easter! Are you feasting or fasting?

Hopefully you are feasting, this being only the fourth day of the Octave. But perhaps you’re fasting too, involuntarily, because you are deprived of the Eternal Sacrifice. If so, use this time to meditate on your hunger, and use it to your benefit. This is the same hunger you should feel every time before you receive; it is a combination of physical hunger and spiritual hunger. The Eucharistic Fast is not only about reverence for the Sacred Species, it’s also about generating physical hunger, which is then meant to be used as a tool. It helps us toward the spiritual dimension, in wanting to be united with Our Lord. Pray that all obstacles might be removed from our unity with God.

The value of fasting is woven throughout the Old Testament, and Our Lord upheld and continued this. He explained its value in Matt 17:20, but make sure you are reading a Catholic bible, because the prots ripped it out. http://drbo.org/chapter/47017.htm He leads by example in Matt 4:2, and He instructs how we are to carry it out in Matt 6:16-18. In fact, this passage from Matt 6 comes right after He gives us the Pater Noster. He teaches us how to pray, and then immediately teaches us how to fast. Not a coincidence.

I am in the fortunate position of having access to open churches, access to Confession, access to Adoration, and access to Mass… DAILY. I promise to remember all of the readership whenever I take part. God sees and knows everything that is happening. Abide in Him. He is in control.

And now some more Anglican organ music.

Crown him with many crowns,
  The Lamb upon his throne;
Hark! how the heavenly anthem drowns
  All music but its own:
Awake, my soul, and sing
  Of him who died for thee,
And hail him as thy matchless king
  Through all eternity.

Crown him the Virgin’s Son!
  The God Incarnate born,–
Whose arm those crimson trophies won
  Which now his brow adorn!
Fruit of the mystic Rose
  As of that Rose the Stem:
The Root, whence mercy ever flows,–
  The Babe of Bethlehem!

Crown him the Lord of love!
  Behold his hands and side,–
Rich wounds, yet visible above,
  In beauty glorified:
No angel in the sky
  Can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye
  At mysteries so bright!

Crown him the Lord of peace!
  Whose power a scepter sways,
From pole to pole,–that wars may cease,
  Absorbed in prayer and praise:
his reign shall know no end,
  And round his pierced feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend
  Their fragrance ever sweet.

Crown him the Lord of years!
  The Potentate of time,–
Creator of the rolling spheres,
  Ineffably sublime!
Glassed in a sea of light,
  Where everlasting waves
Reflect his throne,–the Infinite!
  Who lives,–and loves–and saves.

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