Everyone, quick, go to http://maje-charis.xanga.com/ and tell her goodbye; she’s my best friend and she’s entering the convent TOMORROW!!!!!!!
Edit: earlier the title to this post was simply “Goodbye.” Sorry if I made some of you think that I was leaving Xanga!!!!! I’m not!!
While I might not be able to update for another week (classes start tomorrow!), I thought that before I try updating I would see if there is anything y’all would like me to write a post about? Otherwise I’ll come up with something, I’m sure! So be patient, and pray for one another!
Princess Larayna wove through the revelers like a lithe needle through the festive fabric of flesh and finery, though they were not so much reveling but swaying as though soon to fall with the weight of death; but so was the way of the Gravehill dance, as well as the natural result of many successive hours of dancing and too much wine. She wished that she knew the identity of the prince with whom she had wagered her last dance; perhaps then she could guess his taste in women. But all men are alike it seemed to her, so she needed merely to find the woman she was most envious of and go to claim her prize. So it was that Larayna searched the entire ballroom, and as the music began to slow to even more dreadful a tempo, signaling its near end, she began to panic, for she could not decide upon a single woman of the many hundreds present, even with the generous amount of time afforded her. Surely this woman was not too old, and neither was she too young. The princess cursed herself for taking such a wager at a masquerade ball, of all places, for the masks precluded the possibility of viewing the face of any woman present; how could she judge a woman if she could not see her face?
Finally, just before it seemed as though every dancer would drop dead, the music breathed its last, echoed by a collective sigh. A brief recess was called during which time all could avail themselves of food, drink and time upon a bench. Even as those in attendance dispersed her task was made no simpler, and with only a few minutes before the final dance began Larayna returned to the anonymous nobleman who awaited her near the corner of the room.
“You return empty handed, My Lady.”
“You, Sir, have deceived Your Lady, or something to that effect; you have set her to an impossible task. Therefore, you shall neither tell her your name, nor shall you have her last dance.”
The man smiled. “My Lady you are correct; I have deceived her, but not in the manner which she accuses me of. You see, when we first began I asked if from this vantage point she could view before her the same people that I could, and she answered in the affirmative. I, however, could see one woman here present that she could not.”
“Pray tell,” Larayna said, a heat stirring in her stomach as she began to feel that she had fallen into a prank for this man’s amusement, “Who is this woman that you could see what Your Lady could not, though she searched every dancer for this one flower amongst an entire garden? She should like to see if this beauty was worth all this trouble, as well as your disappointment.”
“As you wish,” he said, extending his hand to lead her. She accepted it and, before she could react, he spun her around to where they both could face the mirror. Gasping at her own reflection, feeling as though she had suddenly been stripped naked to her skin, she covered her gaping mouth with her hands. In that moment the truth of the day’s strange events struck her heart as though an arrow and Princess Larayna, daughter of a king, destined to rule over some realm of her own one day, regal and strong, could no longer stand by her own strength and leant upon this unknown nobleman for support.
“You see, My Lady, this is she; you, the Princess Larayna. The truth is that, from where we stood, there was indeed one woman in this room that I could see and you could not, a woman you could search your whole life for and never find unless it was that a man who sees your beauty not merely for what it is, but who it is, helps you to see it. I offer you, My Lady, this truth in exchange for the simple favor of your last dance, in the great hope that while I enjoy in memory that simple moment of music and movement you will enjoy the rich blessing of knowing the beauty of your being, that beauty of yours that has always been, that is, that will be. I tell you nothing new but what we both know in our hearts to be true, and I do so that you will accept the truth now brought into the light—you are beautiful, and you cannot deceive yourself any longer, nor let yourself be deceived by any other.”
She searched in the mirror those eyes again for deceit; surely he is merely a clever poet wishing to win something worthy of a public house’s brag! But again she found only a tranquil, liquid honesty that flooded every word of his with truth. In that moment a new strength was kindled in her, the strength that begins to assert itself when a person first opens their heart to the truth of their soul. A single tear grew fat upon her joy and began its slow, triumphal march down her face to bring its tidings to the very earth which Larayna felt slowly falling away as she seemed to soar. Thinking quickly, however, she reached out with her kerchief to catch it and watched as it spread itself across a small span of the white fabric.
Larayna turned to look upon the nobleman, and Grey’s heart stopped in the face of her gaze, large green eyes open wide and trembling, brimmed in liquid glass, long lashes dew-laden. Terror gripped him, yet so too did delight, and the two emotions grappled like titans and shook his very soul.
“You Sir…most kind Sir…you have done me such a service…your words have pierced me as an arrow swift and true…you knew precisely where to aim…so true that it missed flesh and blood and death and instead struck my soul, inspiring it to new life…I cannot…”
“Milady,” Grey said, without considering his folly in employing this familiar greeting, “this message comes not from my own quiver, as though I were some clever poet who crafts his speech as a fletcher of words, but comes from a higher place we have no words for at all; I am but the bow.”
With that his delight won out over his terror, but it would quickly have faltered if he knew the chord of recognition his employ of milady had struck in the attentive mind of the princess. She then began to hope secretly, truly against hope, that perhaps, somehow, there was yet another man in the world so simple and true as the servant Grey?
Alas, what tragedy that the truth lay before her, though behind a mask!
“Well, Sir Truebow, in thanks for this gift I give you this tear, wrought by your arrow, blood from my heart wounded yet made more whole. May it serve to remind you always of the moment you humbled the highest lady in the Twelve Kingdoms and stole a dance from their highest prince.”
“Milady?”
As though the word were a new music to her, Larayna closed her eyes a moment as she smiled, extending her hand to him, “Yes, you are victorious, Sir; may you enjoy your victory, and may the Prince Malagyrn be too drunk to remember our previous arrangement.”
Grey tied the kerchief thoughtfully around his upper arm and joined her in the final dance, a lush traditional tune of Highills that drew a cheer from the crowd. He drank in every precious moment of the dance’s duration, the only time he would ever feel as a prince. Larayna too drank heavily of the sweet draught of the dance, for it was the first time she felt not merely a princess or even a queen, but truly herself and beautiful. No crown would now suit her, no dress adequately frame her, no jewel adorn her; nay, ‘twas she that now adorned the jewel.
And so it is that there is nothing so beautiful in the world under Christ, nothing so moving, so humbling, so powerful in presence nor deep in meaning, than a woman who knows, truly, that she is beautiful, and accepts it. I hope that you have enjoyed my little story! God bless you all, and pray for me while I am on retreat until Thursday evening; I’ll be praying for you!
Grey, clothed from neck to foot in fine attire like unto the trim and color of some distant land’s noble line, peered out through his mask at the large ballroom where hundreds of couples swirled about as water lilies caught in a gentle current. Should any one of them recognize him, he would surely be exiled to the desert. He had intentionally arriven toward the end of the evening’s events, that he might not have to defend his disguise too often against too many, all that he might offer the second part of the day’s previous gift to Princess Larayna.
Walking casually along the wall of the ballroom, he made his way to the tables laden nearly to breaking with fruits, meats and pastries; a diverse cornucopia representing the culinary traditions of the Twelve Kingdoms. There was also a large, marble fountain fashioned as a bouquet of twelve flowers, each blossom pouring out wine into a large basin within which a guest could dip their chalice and drink their fill.
The room itself was cavernous, the ceiling undulating with the colorful banners of all the noble houses of the world, some of them square and heavy, some of them light and serpentine, all of them colorful and rich with hidden meaning buried in heraldry. The windows along the wall opposite the entrance were dark with the midnight hour, all things being lit by chandeliers of candlesticks, candelabras, and a roaring fire before which sat the King Wayrmyrd and Queen Thelaylia and their guardsmen. Afar off on the opposite end in a loft was a grand chamber orchestra of strings and winds and some cymbals, drums and other things that carried the feet of all present upon lovely tunes from the different realms, that they might dance according to the style of their folk. The current song was a dirge from the Kingdom of Gravehill, as those who dwell among the tombs of kings long dead are wont to enjoy, though most other dancers would prefer something, quite literally, of a livelier sort.
It was just before this number, as Grey was walking in, that an announcement was made: following the dirge would be the last dance. His timing was perfect, but now he had the near impossible mission of finding the only partner he desired…and lo! he spotted her, a rose among weeds. As a sunrise above a green forest frosted silver in the early autumn was the long, flowing hair of Princess Larayna, her maskless face feigning a smile as another noble no doubt bored her with tales of his exploits. Having no time, no patience and no regard for self-inflated men who merely tell the tales of the things they order their soldiers to do, claiming such deeds as their own, Grey did one thing disguised as a prince he could not do as Grey the serving man: he interrupted.
“So you see, My Lady, when one is surrounded on all sides by servants of evil, one must not rely upon his sword alone, but by two swords! Thus it was that I…”
“Pardon me, Sir, but the night is casting an even longer shadow than your nose,” Grey said, completely dismayed that such a statement came from his own mouth. An expression of sheer delight played across the Larayna’s face as the nobleman sputtered, groping at his nose unconsciously as he sidled off, not knowing quite how to respond.
“You, Sir,” she said, seeking to restrain what would surely have been a beautiful laugh, “are quite bold. You are, however, most welcome here for the moment, though Your Lady will be dancing once this dreadful elegy has ended.”
“It is of dancing, My Lady,” the forced usage of the common phrase was like bile on his tongue, but he could not risk Larayna discovering his identity, “that I wish to treat. May I have the honor of her last dance this evening?”
The princess looked upon the bowing man in disbelief. Bold indeed!
“You may not!” she responded in nearly a gasp, “Prince Malagyrn arranged for that pleasure months ago by correspondence and would be most cross were she to grant such a favor to you on a whim. Be off, and dance with another.”
Knowing that his first asking would likely fail, Grey searched himself for a deeper courage, found it, and embraced it, “Then I would like to make a wager for her last dance, since it is known to me that My Lady is both clever and a lover of guessing games.”
“You are well informed, Sir…”
“My name shall be your prize, should you win.”
A thrill of curiosity shot through her, and before she could process his request rationally Larayna found herself accepting the wager and eagerly awaiting the details. He took her gently by the hand and led her to a wall upon which hung a large mirror. From their place near to the corner of the room they could see the whole of the crowd.
“Would My Lady,” he said, close to her ear, “say that, from where we stand, she can see only the same people that I can?”
“Yes,” she replied.
“In all my time this evening I have seen one woman who is in my eye the most beautiful of all present. My challenge to My Lady is that, by the end of the current song, she must seek this woman out and bring her to me, that I may have the dancing partner I desire, if I cannot have the Princess Larayna.”
She laughed. “What a fascinating challenge! And tell Your Lady, Mysterious Sir, what she shall win, besides the satisfaction of knowing your name? For if she fails you win not only her last dance, but too the ire of a powerful prince.”
“You will win nothing more than my name for were My Lady to know it, she would find it worth her every effort.”
Eyebrows raised as a falcon’s upheld for imminent flight, she looked into the eyes behind the mask, seeking deceit should it be there and, upon finding none whatsoever Latayna smiled and vanished into the dancing crowd in a green-gold swirl that robbed Grey of his very breath. Heart pounding, forehead sweating beneath the leather of his mask, he uttered a prayer and hoped with his very life that this gamble would succeed, for he stood to lose far more than this evening’s anonymity; he could lose his very way of life.
Yes indeed; you may have caught another invented word, albeit a more subtle one- arriven! I just think it sounds better than “arrived,” don’t you? Return in a few more days for the conclusion!
Now that my series on the Catholic Mass is ended and available for any who want to go back and review it, I thought I would offer something a little different. It is a scene from a longer work I have been wanting to write for the last few years, but since God always has other plans, it always takes a backseat. But I do a little here and there, as I am able. It wasn’t until I read a post by freebirdheart that I thought I should do a post on something I see both in the “real world” and on Xanga: women who struggle to see themselves as beautiful. This is something I am very, very passionate about, so I will never hesitate to take the opportunity to remind women of the truth of their beauty! While I have touched upon the subject throughout my blogging history on Xanga (here is a popular example), I wanted to try something a little different. Please enjoy a little story, and I hope that the allegory and all that is well understood by everyone who reads it. To you women of Xanga, especially those with whom I am most in touch, who struggle to accept the raw and resplendent truth of who they are, this little tale is for you. May God, the Perfect Beauty who created you in His image and likeness as beautiful also, bless you all the days of your life.
“Beauty Unmasked: Part One”
Princess Larayna stood before a full-length mirror, the ends of her long hair dripping onto the furs that held at bay the chill of the stone floor beneath. Warm air blew in from the balcony window, and firelight from the dying day caressed her skin until all the gooseflesh vanished. Soon her handmaid returned after emptying the bath and, first toweling her off, began to gently comb out Larayna’s renowned locks of gold.
“Has My Lady chosen a dress for the evening’s festivities?” the servant asked.
“Yes, she has,” came Larayna’s reply, “being the green velvet with the silver brocade. Her hair shall be worn loose, with a golden circlet upon her crown, and silver slippers.”
Without missing a stroke of the comb, the girl asked, “She wishes to wear her hair down? Unbraided, without adornment? I do not question My Lady, but only wish to understand her perfectly.”
“Precisely; you have understood her.”
As every tangle was expertly undone and each split end bitten off and spit out into the fire, Larayna recalled the curious incident regarding the King’s servant, Grey, and his “gift.”
“Milady,” he had said, using the word not as a statement of fact but as her name, because he did not feel worthy to address her by her true one, “you are concerned with many things that amount, in the end, to nothing except that these worries rob us of the pleasure of your company.”
How dare he? she had thought, bristling at his judgment of her concerns as amounting to nothing! “I shall consider this,” is what she had said aloud, however.
“Please find no insult in my words; I am a man of poor learning, but I mean well. I come to you today bearing a gift that has been years in the making. You see, Milady, I once was a craftsman before entering into His Majesty’s service, and I am made to understand that there is a masquerade this eventide and you have not a mask to wear and were preparing to go out and seek one. Is this true?”
“Yes, it is, though I do not see how such a thing is any concern of a serving man.”
“I beg Milady to consider this, that she may not weary her feet in traveling about the city.”
He then held forward a small wooden box tied shut with scarlet ribbon, a sealed note held fast beneath. Without another word the serving man left, and though he was indeed handsome and of her own age, and though normally she enjoyed his company, that meeting stirred within her a sense of being cornered, as though she were being chased and had nowhere left to run. Something within his pure, open honesty terrified her; all this before Larayna had even opened the letter.
The comb came upon a surprise knot and the sudden jerk of it snapped the princess back to the moment at hand. The servant girl apologized profusely before continuing on, and soon Larayna’s hair was finished being combed out and oiled very lightly with balsam. Once another girl had come to assist her into her dress, she dismissed all company and retired to her chamber. While sitting at her reading desk she looked upon the open note from Grey, there sitting open like a squared blossom etched with dark blue lines. It began, as the serving man always did, with “Milady.”
Something about the way he employed that word was different from everyone else, as though he was not taking from her, but giving. Even her closest servants were always speaking to her as though she were someone else in a different room: What would My Lady like to eat? How is My Lady feeling?
“She would like fresh-baked bread with cold wine; she is dreadfully alone.” But never did Larayna voice what she herself desired; always this separate Lady elsewhere expressed its whim and won it. Yet when Grey addressed her, he addressed her; he did not know of the Other to whom she felt a slave, bound up in the chains of Expectation to where she could hardly breathe.
Now, for the seventh time since receiving it, Larayna read his note and felt again the swelling in her heart as each word seemed upon it like a warm rain, and after each had fallen she felt that much more filled as no food or drink could accomplish.
Milady,
I have for some time observed you from afar, as one does the sun from here upon the lowly earth, yet I notice how cold you have become in these years past. It is as though I see Milady, but do not see her, as though I am turned toward a mirror and see only your reflection cold but just as brilliant. If the sun were similarly, then all the day would be as night, for is not the moon but a reflection of its rays? As the grass would wither and die, so do I wilt a little in your sadness, and I cannot bear it a moment longer. For what I hope will be your joy I have painstakingly crafted a mask for you to wear this night; a mask you were born to wear. This is no jest! I swear to this; no humiliation or lie is intended, though should you be unconvinced I would gladly hang for it. This mask, unlike any other in the realm, will send out from among all present the question, “Who is she?” as any mask is wont to elicit, and though it may lay bare many things it will only serve to deepen the mystery of your true self. I beg Milady, with all that I am, to choose this mask above all others and wear it without fear of ridicule, without shame for what is hidden beneath.
Yours in His Majesty’s service,
Grey Thilvayn
Also for the seventh time Larayna opened the simple little box and gazed upon its emptiness, and the truth of the note’s contents filled her at once with gratitude and terror. Would she accept what was offered her; would she don the truth and bravely endure whatever the Kingdom of Highills might think of her?
Closing the lid of the empty box, wondering again if she would end up a jester instead of a princess, she walked quickly from her chamber to the hallway that led to the ballroom. A servant girl sitting in a chair and sewing looked up and lost her smile as it fell from her face.
“Where is My Lady’s mask? Shall I fetch one?”
“My Lady is wearing a mask!” Larayna replied in frustration, not missing a single stride, balling up her fists as she forced herself to walk farther and farther from her only chance at saving herself from what was like to be the fashion faux pas of the year. Later, when she had answered the incredulous inquiries of exactly three guests she simply ignored the rest, and soon many thought that not only had the princess forgotten her mask but she had become deaf as well.
A dreadful thing, they muttered gossipaciously to one another, to lose both ones hearing and fashion sense in the same season!
(Yes, my dear readers, I invented a word there! Gossipaciously: to speak in a gossip-like manner. And I don’t ask this often, but feel free to rec the post so that, if you feel it has something worthwhile to say, the message gets out to all who need to hear it!)
And so, for the grant finale! I hope that you have enjoyed my series on the Mass; as always, any questions about the Mass or Catholicism are always welcome here or via message. Happy Feast of the Transfiguration!
Pater Noster
The priest then invites us to pray the prayer that Christ taught us, the one prayer that all Christians throughout the world hold in common, one part of every Christian’s Catholic heritage that has not been done away with. This is the prayer written on the hearts of every child of the Most High…
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name;
thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread;
and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us;
and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
The celebrant prays: “Deliver us, Lord, from every evil, and grant us peace in our day. In your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.”
We respond: “For the kingdom, the power and the glory are yours, now and forever.” (Rev. 11:15 anyone?)
Here we have gone from the Last Supper to the Garden of Gethsemane, when we pray like Christ that God’s will, not our own, be done. And just as it was in the Garden, though it was then as a betrayal, we are given some hope and encouragement as we then have a moment to be angels for one another.
The Sign of Peace
The celebrant says, “Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles: I leave you peace, my peace I give you. Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church, and grant us the peace and unity of your kingdom where you live for ever and ever.”
“Amen!”
“The Peace of the Lord be with you always.”
“And also with you.”
“Let us offer each other a sign of peace.”
And so we do, following again the teaching of Christ when He teaches us: “Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar, and there recall that your brother has anything against you, leave your gift there at the altar, go first and be reconciled with your brother, and then come and offer your gift.” (Matt. 5:23-24) We recall that reconciliation which we sought near the beginning of the Mass with the Penitential Rite; now we express that reality with a handshake, a hug, a kiss; whatever is culturally and relationship appropriate. The only time of year when the Sign of Peace does not take place is on Good Friday, to remember that Christ was betrayed by the kiss of peace. At all other celebrations of the Mass (since technically there is no Mass on Good Friday), the sign of peace is a sign of joy, that though we will soon recall and participate in the Passion and Death of Our Lord, we already know that He will not be taken from us; He in fact has come to be with us even more closely than ever before!
Agnus Dei
“Then I saw standing in the midst of the throne and the four living creatures and the elders, a Lamb that seemed to have been slain. He had seven horns and seven eyes; these are the (seven) spirits of God sent out into the whole world.” (Rev. 5:6)
“After this I had a vision of a great multitude, which no one could count, from every nation, race, people, and tongue. They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands. They cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb.” (Rev. 7:9-10)
This for me is the most solemn part of the Mass, especially if the following words are sung to a particularly moving arrangement:
“Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us…Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us…Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace…”
While the congregation proclaims this, generally while kneeling, the celebrant is breaking up the Host. I remember during the third week of my silent retreat, while we were being encouraged to contemplate for several days the passion and death of Christ, I was at Mass and because the Host is very thin and dry, it makes a cracking sound when it is broken. It was all I could do to not weep when I heard that noise during Mass and imagined the huge nails going into His hands and feet, cracking through ligaments and bones…
Not long ago we sat with Him at table, we prayed with Him in the Garden, we came offering a sign of peace (though unlike Judas, ours is hopefully genuine!). Now we stand at the foot of the Cross, beholding the Lamb that was slain, seeing the wounds that will heal us; the priest holds up the broken Host above the chalice that contains His Precious Blood, saying,
“This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper.”
Unlike those brave few who followed Him all the way to Golgotha, we have been consoled in knowing already that He is risen; thus we can truly understand the words of the angel in Revelations 19:9 that say, “Blessed are those who have been called to the wedding feast of the Lamb!” Yes, for “These words are true; they come from God.” (same verse) Still, we are humbled, for though Christ died once and for all, He has never ceased to make of Himself an offering (remember the two-fold aspect of sacrifices). For “we proclaim Christ crucified” (1 Cor. 1:23), hence the tradition of the crucifix and not merely an empty cross. We do not crucify Him anew; we recall His constant self-offering for our constant sinning, His labor until He comes again to finish what He started. Who are we to receive such a gift? Well, we may as well say it, all of us , in the words of that centurion with the amazing faith that surprised even Christ. The congregation says together:
“Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” (Matt. 8:8, Luke 7:6-7)
Unlike the centurion, however, Christ will enter into the very temple of our bodies and not merely heal us, but remain to dwell within us always.
Remember, too, that the Mass is the fulfillment of the Passover that was celebrated for centuries by our Jewish ancestors, and by many today. Like them, we have been given a Lamb to offer as a sacrifice for the sins of the whole household–the Church. Like them we have unleavened bread, we have wine and, like them, we must eat the Lamb.
“Consummatum Est.”
In John 19:30 Christ, just before He dies, says, “It is finished.” It makes sense, then, that many non-Catholics would see the Eucharist as not being a participation in the passion and death of Christ, as though He were continuing to offer Himself, but as a reenactment, a memorial, or something otherwise symbolic, though nothing “actual” as we Catholics believe. His passion and death was all wrapped up on the Cross, as He states in the quoted verse.
But John in Revelations (the evangelist’s other book!) he is always talking about the “Wedding Feast” of the Lamb. Even his Gospel begins Christ’s public ministry with a wedding feast at Cana, and after that St. John the Baptist is talking about Christ as the Bridegroom (3:29). Clearly, St. John the Evangelist was trying to tell us something.
We read about the creation of Adam in Genesis and how his bride, Eve, was taken from His side. St. John Chrysostom, writing in the 4th century, writes similarly about the creation of the Church, with the sacraments of Baptism (water) and Eucharist (blood) coming from His side. Is not the Church “flesh of His flesh,” His Mystical Body, brought into His life through Baptism and nourished by His Body and Blood? As St. John Chrysostom continues, “Do you understand, then, how Christ has united his bride to himself and what food he gives us all to eat? By one and the same food we are both brought into being and are nourished. As a woman nourishes her child with her own blood and milk, so does Christ unceasingly nourish us with his own Blood those to whom he himself has given life.”
You see, Christ did not finish something with His death on the Cross (except, perhaps, Death itself!) but began something; I think the Latin translation of John 19:30 relates this far better by offering, “Consummatum est”–”It is consummated”–instead. In Jewish tradition, as continues in Catholicism, a man and a woman are not married until “the two become one flesh,” if you know what I mean. So sure, the wedding may be over, but the marriage has just begun. Likewise upon the Cross, when Jesus says, “It is finished,” He is saying that the two, Man and God, Christ and His Bride, have become one. The marriage has begun, and each time we come to Mass and partake in the Eucharist, we are celebrating that momentous occasion, renewing as a whole Church our vows and our covenant in Christ’s blood. And then, when all is reconciled and everything has been prepared, each person walks up one-by-one to the Bridegroom who is presented to them with the simple, declarative statement:
“The Body/Blood of Christ.”
Imagine, if you will, you who approach our Eucharistic Lord. What you see is a minister holding before you what appears to be a small piece of bread, but you know it or at least accept it to be more than that; the very living Body of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, broken for you, the eating of which will bring you eternal life. What you hear is “The Body/Blood of Christ,” but what you know is being said is, “Do you accept me as your personal Lord and Savior? As I am? Will you do for me as I have done for you? Will you join with me and serve me, will you be faithful to me? Do you believe what I have taught regarding this bread, what so many of my first disciples could not accept, but St. Peter and my closest friends did?”
And thus the Catholic, by grace and faith, says, “Amen,” which means, “So be it; this I believe.” Do you see also, with this understanding, why only Catholics and those in communion are permitted to receive the Eucharist? Otherwise a person who does not hold these beliefs would stand before the Eucharistic Lord, be presented with what the Church believes, and would receive the Eucharist with lies in their heart; those not in communion with the Church do not say with their “Amen,” whether by word or by action (consuming the Host), “So be it; this I believe.” We do not exclude because we hate; we protect you from making a mistake!
We hear in Galatians 3:28 that “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free person, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Truly in the Eucharist we see this reality lived out, for all people, regardless of gender, age, race, nationality, rich or poor, all are reduced to beggars coming to receive their daily bread. The Eucharist, especially when we all come forward to receive, is the moment when the marriage between Christ and the Church is consummated anew, for when we eat and drink that which sustains us, does it not become one with our flesh? And this “bread” that we eat, this “blood” that we drink, these are truly the Flesh and Blood of Christ; thus in this Sacrament the two become one flesh; Bridegroom and Bride are one. Yes, the Church is made up of men and women, male and female, but because we receive the Eucharist as a Church, united in our belief and our confession, this difference vanishes in the brilliant light of the union of Heaven and Earth.
Your Mission, Should You Choose to Accept Him…
There is normally a song or at least prolonged silence during and after communion. Once all who will receive have received and the vessels (paten and chalice) have been purified, the priest offers a short prayer before inviting everyone to stand.
“The Lord be with you.”
“And also with you.”
Here the presider may offer a special blessing, but generally it is: “May almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” We all make the Sign of the Cross while he says this, answering with “Amen!” We have ended where we began, in His name. Then:
“Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.”
“Thanks be to God!”
Finally, after we have made peace with our brothers and sisters, after we have gone to the Apostolic School of the Heart (Liturgy of the Word), after we have confessed our faith (the Creed) and brought our petitions to the mercy of God the Father (intercessory prayers), after we have brought a fitting sacrifice and offering to God in the Eucharist, after we have renewed our covenant and union with each other and with God through Christ, we find ourselves in a similar place as were the followers of Christ gathered in Galilee when Jesus Christ, here represented by His minister, the priest, says, “Go out to all nations…” Truly, as Christ says in John 17:18 “As you sent me into the world, so I sent them into the world.”
The word “Mass” comes from the same Latin word that our word “mission” comes from. The Mass is an opportunity for each follower of Christ to immerse their whole being in an experience of salvation history, of the Church of the Apostles, the Church that “devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, to the breaking of the bread and to the prayers. Awe came upon everyone, and many wonders and signs were done through the apostles…” (Acts 2:42-43)
Really, then, on Sunday it is not a matter of coming to Church and then going home. I encourage all my Catholic brothers and sisters–really, all Christians–to realize that when you come to your parish to celebrate the Eucharist, you are coming home from the vineyard. Here is where you come to be with your family, for who is your mother? Who are your brothers? As Christ said in Matthew 12:49-50 ”Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my heavenly Father is my brother, and sister, and mother.” With God as Our Father, our Bread-Winner with Christ as our Bread, where we live not by bread alone but by the very Word of God that becomes our Bread, the Church is truly our home from where we are sent back into the world to live out faithfully all that we have been taught by the apostles, in the hope that more and more will desire to become a member of the family, that Christ’s great desire may be fulfilled in us, “that they may all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me.” (John 17:21…actually, read all of John 17 from the perspective of the Eucharist; it makes a lot of sense!)
So this FINALLY wraps up my epic series on the Catholic Mass (again, the Latin Rite; there are many ways by which the Church celebrates the Eucharist!). I hope that it has proven helpful, and please do feel free to always ask questions about the Mass, about any of the thoughts I have offered, or really anything Catholic in general. God bless all of you, and may all Christians indeed be one Church again one day!
