The Priest at Prayer, June 7

Second Part
The Priestly Ministry

The Second Priestly Duty: The Holy Eucharist

Sixth Meditation - The Sacrilegious Mass: A Criminal Parody

I. Perhaps the most effective deterrent from celebrating unworthily would be from time to time, with greater or lesser frequency according as unruly passion and the risk of falling into grave sin intensify, to open the Missal and to reflect on the outrageous paradox that every word and rite of the Holy Sacrifice becomes when pronounced by a priest estranged from the Redeemer and dispossessed of that most sacred and indispensable of ornaments, divine grace.

I should try to make these reflections; the sight of a priest profaning the Divine Victim will appear each time more tragic and diabolical; the horror of it will put me in mind of something akin to the "Black Mass" of magic lore in the Middle Ages.

Let me take a few samples for practice.

II. With mortal sin on my soul I enter the sacristy and say while washing my hands:

Da, Domine, virtutem manibus meis ad abstergendum omnem maculam, ut sine pollutione mentis et corporis valeam tibi servire. Give virtue to my hands, O Lord, to cleanse away every stain, so that I may be worthy to serve Thee free from stain of mind and body. - A cynical lie! Pilate was less of a hypocrite when he washed his.

Dealba me, Domine, . . . ut in sanguine Agni deal­batus, gaudiis perfruar sempiternis. Make me white, O Lord, . . . so that being made white in the Blood of the Lamb, I may deserve an eternal reward. - My heart belies my lips. Was it not my evil passions that tore to tatters the snow-white garment of grace and flung it at the feet of Satan, like a filthy rag?

Praecinge me, Domine, cingulum puritatis. . . . ut maneat in me virtus continentiae et castitatis. Gird me, O Lord, with the cincture of purity. . . so that the virtue of continence and chastity may always abide in me. - Hoots of derision from the demon of lust who keeps my heart bound with Venus's iron cincture!

Domine, qui dixisti : Jugum suave est. . . . fac ut istud portare sic valeam, quod consequar tuam gratiam. Lord, who hast said: My yoke is sweet. . . grant that I may so carry it as to merit Thy grace. - Well may the Lord, whom my deceitful lips have invoked as many as seven times before mounting the altar steps, answer me with pent-up rage: A saeculo confregisti jugum! Thou hast thrown off my yoke and broken asunder every bond, and said: "I will not serve!"

III. I reach the altar, and, after the prescribed reverential gestures, I begin: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. Introibo ad altare Dei.

What a mockery! Not even the executioners on Cal­vary ever thought of such a thing. To begin the blackest crime of my life in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost! When Christ said: The hour cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doth a service to God (John xvi, 2), must I include Christ Himself among the victims? And when the catechism taught me to begin good works with the Sign of the Cross, surely it did not mean a sacrilegious Mass!

Judica me, Deus, et discerne causam meam. . . .­Did anyone ever curse himself more savagely? Judica me, Deus! Judge me, O God! . . . Lord, close Thine ears; listen not to this madman who in the presence of the whole Church beseeches Thee to condemn him and cast him into the unquenchable fire.

Munda cor meum ac labia mea, Omnipotens Deus. . . Dominus sit in corde mea et in labiis meis . . .

What do these words mean in my mouth? To ask God to dwell in a heart enslaved by evil:

"Never yet did Wisdom find her way into the schemer's heart, never yet made her home in a life mortgaged to sin." (Wisdom i, 4)

IV.

Lavabo inter innocentes manus meas . . .
Domine, dilexi decorem domus tuae. . . .
Ne perdas cum impiis animam meam . . .

"With the pure in heart I will wash my hands clean. . . . How well, Lord, I love thy house in its beauty. . . Lord, never count this soul for lost with the wicked." . . .

How many detestable lies in such brief words! From the first word of the psalm to the last I am spitting out poison.

Orate, fratres, ut meum ac vestrum sacrificium acceptabile fiat . . . Pray, brethren, that my sacrifice and yours be acceptable to God. Yes, in itself the Sacrifice is most acceptable, but in my sinful hands, abominable.

Sursum corda. Habemus ad Dominum. My heart lifted up to the Lord? No, He is captive of my own lusts that master and enslave me.

Cum angelis et archangelis hymnum gloriae tuae canimus. What a discord, what disharmony my sinful life introduces into the music of visible and invisible creation! Far better to hold my tongue.

Hoc est enim corpus meum. Hic est enim calix sanguinis mei . . . in remissionem peccatorum. But of my sins a seal and confirmation.

Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam meam in vitam aeternam. Amen. The Body of Christ my soul's safeguard unto everylasting life? Why, I have just been guilty of the Body, and Blood of Christ; I have eaten and drunk, my own condemnation.

Sanguis quem potavi adhaereat visceribus meis . . . Thy Blood which I have just drunk cleave to my inmost being. . .

The Chosen Race, deicide and accursed, never made such a request. His Blood be upon us! they said, but I, in pouring It sacrilegiously into my stomach, pray for It to become one thing with my inmost soul and body; I ask It to share my own moral corruption; I pray that its healing power be annulled. . . .

Thus, every word spells a horrible blasphemy, compared with which a trooper's profanity sounds more like a maiden's prayer.

So what am I to do? What am I to say? Can I change the liturgical prayers and substitute others of my own more in keeping with my dreadful state of soul? Of course not. What I can do, what I must do, until I get out of mortal sin, is not to approach the altar to say Mass, to deprive myself of It because I am unworthy; unless I wish to be caught up in a tornado of Divine Anger at every rubric and liturgical phrase, which were certainly not meant for sullied lips and putrid hearts.

Resolution
Once a month, at least, I shall meditate on each phrase and rite and ceremony of the Mass in this manner, until I am absolutely convinced of the diabolical paradox incurred by the priest who celebrates in mortal sin.

A meditation of this sort will deter me most effect­ively from ever saying Mass without the essential dispositions; otherwise I may consider I have lost my faith in the Presence of the Son of God upon the Altar; and then, not only my Mass but all my other ministerial duties, my clerical garb, and the very name of priest, will be no other than a parody, a clownish farce unbecoming any right-minded man; and I should be doing far less harm if I looked around for some other occupation in life: anything at all would tally better with fundamental decency.
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Adapted from The Priest at Prayer
by Fr. Eugenio Escribano, C.M. (© 1954)
Translated by B.T. Buckley, C.M.

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Please pray for our priests and pray for vocations to the priesthood!