The Feast of the Holy Spirit

This article originally appeared in Celebrations magazine

One of the challenges of liturgical planning is weaving together the themes, symbols and rituals of a liturgical season so as to give the assembly a sense of the "whole" of that season. During the four weeks of Advent, the Advent wreath gives us a visual symbol of the time leading up to our celebration of Christ's birth. But, with people dumping their Christmas trees on the sidewalk three days after Christmas, we must find ways to convince the assembly that the Christmas season actually starts after Christmas day, not before it. We find ourselves in the same situation following Lent. The practice of sacrifice carries us beautifully through the forty days into the Triduum. The Easter season, in contrast, can seem to "lose steam" midway through the home stretch into Pentecost.

The Portuguese community has long ago addressed this concern through their remembrance of one of the great saints of their history, Saint Elizabeth of Portugal. Her story and the tradition that grew out of it are worth examining to give us fresh ideas when approaching the question of connecting Easter to Pentecost for our assemblies.

Elizabeth (or Isabel, in Portuguese) was born in Spain in 1271 and given in marriage to King Denis, the monarch of Portugal, at twelve years of age. Throughout her life she showed concern for the poor. To the outrage of her husband, she would often leave the castle at night to bring them food, clothing and money. Whenever she learned that a beggar had been mistreated by one of the castle guards, she would usher the beggar in, feed him and treat his wounds.

She also had a profound devotion to the Holy Spirit, directing that a church be constructed in honor of the third person of the Blessed Trinity. When the country was suffering from a long drought, Saint Elizabeth promised to donate her crown to that church if God would bring an end to it. Keeping her word, she not only donated her crown but established the tradition of feeding all the poor in the city on the day of Pentecost. At that celebration, she would choose children from the crowd and place the crown on their heads to symbolize that the poor were the true royalty of Portugal, thus committing herself to serving them as she would any other king or queen.

For many years after her death, the Church in Portugal would commemorate Saint Elizabeth and her devotion to the needy by continuing the tradition of hosting meals for them on Pentecost.

Though it came to be observed less frequently as the years went on, there would be a leap in the development of the tradition in the Azorean islands. Inhabited by the Portuguese in the 15th century, the Azores are an archipelago of nine volcanic islands in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean which have often been subjected to violent tremors. Drawing on the example of Saint Elizabeth's prayers at the time of the drought, the faithful would parade through the streets whenever the earth would shake. Carrying a banner emblazoned with a dove representing the Holy Spirit, they sought to demonstrate their faith in the midst of peril and to inspire calm in the populace.

Their experience breathed new life into the traditional observance. Instead of just providing a meal on Pentecost, the parishes would eventually expand the commemoration to the seven Sundays between Easter and Pentecost. Beginning with the first Sunday of Easter, each parish would choose seven families to host celebrations. Each week would have as its theme one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit. During the week, the families would host prayers at their homes, usually the rosary and a reflection on whichever gift of the Holy Spirit was the theme of the week. Then, at the end of the Sunday liturgy, the host family would gather in front of the assembly to be crowned with a replica of Saint Elizabeth's crown representing both the descent of the Holy Spirit and the Church's commitment to the poor. The celebrations would end on Pentecost with the meal for the needy along with other festivities for the community.

This traditional observance has survived in many immigrant Portuguese communities both in the United States and around the world. Though the historical and symbolic meaning is often lost even on its participants, it achieves many of the goals we currently have for the renewal of parish life. First of all, it gives a sense of wholeness and continuity to the Easter season. Secondly, it calls parishioners to host prayer in their homes and to form a small community of worship which flows from the Sunday liturgy and leads back to it. Thirdly, it connects worship to service of the poor. While this particular tradition would be difficult to adapt for non-Portuguese communities, it does provide a beautiful illustration of prayer and service, parish and home, culture and faith all working in tandem.

Meeting the challenges of today's worshipping communities requires much forward thinking. Sometimes, however, solutions lie in rediscovering and celebrating with new meaning the symbols, rituals and traditions our communities are already familiar with. As parishes grow in ethnic and racial diversity, it could be that we find in these diverse traditions and customs means of renewing our parish life whether our goal is to bring unity to a long liturgical season or to connect Sunday worship with Monday labor.