Arms Update #634284632217

 

This is it- make no mistake anymore.

Blazoned thus by u/MajoEsparza of the Reddit:

Argent, a bush enflamed proper, and upon a chief wavy Purpure a sword and a saw in saltire also proper, all within a bordure compony Sable and Argent.

Alternatively:

Per fess enhanced wavy Purpure and Argent, in chief a sword and saw in saltire, and in base a bush enflamed proper, all within a bordure compony Sable and Argent.

You could also specify how many pieces the bordure should have as "...of 24 pieces Sable and Argent" or "Argent and Sable", depending on whichever you want. You could also change the "bush enflamed" with "the burning bush".

This website also has become familiar with my vagaries in heraldic achievement. I'd like to think of each as intentional and meaningful. These last few have retained the same "charges" (items); the main changes have been in tincture (colors) and layout. Shield style also, which is less vital. 

The charges and field division pertain to my name, either directly or by allusion. 

Christopher: the wavy line resembling the river he crossed with Our Lord; 

Michael: the sword, also used by the Lithuanian vytis (knight, on their arms); 

Joseph, the saw;

Zelonis, the bush burning but not consumed. 

The burning bush has no intrinsic connection, save the false cognate of zelus (L, "zeal"); I do not know what my name means in Lithuanian. I put Hebrews 12:29 on my ordination card: "for our God is a consuming fire." I note that the Fathers of the Church often compared the Virgin Mother Mary to that bush aflame (pregnant) yet unconsumed (virginal).

I chose a two-handed saw to represent Joseph (my Confirmation name), suspecting that he and his Son sawed some wood together a few times. Consider, too, the synergy of God and man in the Incarnation and in the Christian life.

I was stationed in parishes dedicated to St. Joseph the Worker (curate, from March to December 2007) and St. Michael the Archangel (pastor, October 2016 to June 2019). My current parish, Saints Peter and Paul of Lehighton, PA, is near the Lehigh River. I often run and bike on windy river-adjacent trails.

I thought it neat that I received the finished product from fleurdelis.com today, when the 12th chapter of Hebrews was in the Office of Readings. This also happened, I think, with a previous revision. Is it odd, or is it God?

I felt moved to send my ordination card to the artists, noticing today that the original (which listed my First Mass at my home parish, where it didn't happen) cites Hebrews 13:29; reader, there is no 13:29. It was changed to 12:29 in the second card, which also omitted the actual location of the Mass (the former St. Mary Church in my hometown of Saint Clair, PA, now the site of St. Clare of Assisi Parish, where I resided while serving as a hospital chaplain from June 2014 to October 2016).

Silver reflects my second-place finish in my high school class: it serves as a sufficient background for the bush, termed "proper" because it is meant to represent the original (as far as we know; but isn't the plant red?). So what if I was second? God is and must be first.

Purple reflects my indecisiveness, as red is on the Lithuanian and Polish flags, and blue is Marian. I decided to combine them. 

The alternating black-white border alludes to 🎹 ; the reigning Bishop of Harrisburg, Timothy C. Senior, a skilled pianist, did it before me (vide infra).

That's my achievement, and I'm sticking to it. Face it: one of them will end up being my last!

New Roads to Run

My life in the past couple of weeks has witnessed newness. The Bishop has transferred me to full-time hospital and nursing home ministry in Schuylkill County. I moved to my new digs in Saint Clair almost a week ago, and received a very warm welcome from the pastor and various parishioners.

One humorous anecdote: Having just arrived on the scene, I have not yet acquired an ID badge for the hospital, but that hasn't stopped me from visiting people. On either Tuesday or Wednesday evening I was surveying the floor, probably appearing puzzled. The nurse at the desk asked me if I could be helped. (I'm not so sure sometimes!) Anyhow, she decided to call security just to make sure I was legit. Apparently Collar-ID doesn't work anymore! I told her I didn't blame her for doing it. I can look suspicious, with shifty and furtive eyes sizing up the joint. But then, a Deus ex machina appeared in the form of one of the nurses, a parishioner who vouched for me. Since that evening, the nurse at the desk and I have exchanged friendly hellos.

Running has not abated since my arrival, but the standard routes are getting old quick. Since we have so many hills, it is meet to meet those hills head-on. Only recently have I begun to attempt hills. In the interim between the March and April marathons I took to the hills of Temple and Alsace Township in Berks County. Up here in County Schuylkill there are plenty more--steep ones, mercilessly steep. Take "the Burma"--Burma Road, so named because of its barrenness. After the coal was mined, a wasteland remained. But there is considerable forested area, good for concealing target shooters and beer-guzzling teenagers.

Another anecdote: last night after the vigil Mass I finished up six miles by coming toward the rectory from the direction of the Burma (I didn't attempt the hill, but went up only as far as a new development just past the newer crop of homes from the 1980s). No cars were behind me. The borough set up a speed-indicating sign across from the rectory and church. It showed "8," with brief vacillation between 7 and 9. The sign was working, and so was I.

I look forward to many visits, many opportunities to extend the Lord's Charity through His Word and Sacraments. "The fields are ripe for harvest" (Jn 4:35), for this area used to be known--and still is--for vocations to the priesthood and consecrated life. It used to be known for Catholics, for devout people of many faiths. "The Sea of Faith / Was once, too, at the full" (Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach). Every priestly contribution helps: every offering of the Lord's Sacrificial Banquet, every Hail Mary, every Anointing.

Were I come o'er again it should be this

On the eleventh anniversary of terrorist attacks upon American soil, I join the throng in thanking God for all who have served, are serving, will or would serve our country as a member of the military, police, firefighting, or emergency medicine fields.

Such servants deserve our respect for their steadfastness.  To them I dedicate Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem "The Soldier":

YES. Why do we áll, seeing of a soldier, bless him? bless
Our redcoats, our tars? Both these being, the greater part,
But frail clay, nay but foul clay. Here it is: the heart,
Since, proud, it calls the calling manly, gives a guess
That, hopes that, makesbelieve, the men must be no less;	5
It fancies, feigns, deems, dears the artist after his art;
And fain will find as sterling all as all is smart,
And scarlet wear the spirit of wár thére express.
Mark Christ our King. He knows war, served this soldiering through;
He of all can handle a rope best. There he bides in bliss	10
Now, and séeing somewhére some mán do all that man can do,
For love he leans forth, needs his neck must fall on, kiss,
And cry ‘O Christ-done deed! So God-made-flesh does too:
Were I come o’er again’ cries Christ ‘it should be this’.

The yearning for a hero is universal and profound.  When heroism takes flesh, ceasing to be a mere idea--when we witness heroism in a particular person--our hearts instinctively look upward, as if to make an act of faith in humanity and humanity's God.

Like Hopkins, my aptitude rested not in any of the above, but in service of an overtly religious sort.  As a member of St. Clair's Junior Ambulance Corps in 8th grade, I gained particular respect for the fields of emergency medicine and firefighting.  While many kids persevered in the Corps to the point of becoming an EMT, Paramedic, Nurse, and/or Firefighter, I left after gaining certification in Basic First Aid.  But I got to remain involved in the lives of many of those good people by assisting in or officiating at their weddings, baptizing some of their children, and, alas, burying the spouse of one.

Praise God for the work of our "first responders"--for whoever responds expertly, promptly, and thoughtfully to someone in need.  Such transactions are thoroughly incarnational, for God finds flesh in every player.  As Our Lord has told us, these servants will be blessed to hear His consoling reminder at the end of days: You did it to Me.