SONG OF SORROW
have given us “the eyes of Faith”, Lord, by which to see you. How they
blaze before that Immolation at the Altar by which you purchased our
From the humble pews we kneel and are translated! We behold in awe what
is enacted before us! In breathless anticipation we await the moment
of that sublime word that comes to us in staggering simplicity, the
two letters that bind Heaven and Earth, time and eternity, the human
and the divine – that forever separate life and death; the final word,
proclaiming the apocalyptic victory of Life over death, invincible Light
over impenetrable darkness, redemption over reprobation, sanctity over
sin, whence the Word, once again, becomes flesh amongst us:
— through which is enacted, in our very
presence, the salvation of the world, and in which is proffered the
greatest sanctification of the soul. All life, all history, all things
from the beginning, all things pertaining to the end of all things,
culminating in absolute simplicity, in four words, in two letters:
“This IS My Body”.
How is it that the hands
that hold You do not tremble upon this utterance; that the eyes that
look upon You are not utterly translated in beholding God? How is it
that the tremendous silence that precedes the breaking of the Seventh
Seal (Apoc. 8.1) in the very Heavens themselves: the tongues of angels
and Saints made still throughout the universe of all things created
... prevails in Heaven — but the tongues of men do not cease on Earth
in the Breaking of the Bread?
And with what lack of
awe, with what seeming absence of recognition, and in what haste so
many of God’s own priests themselves pronounce these words! More painful
still, the perfunctory, even thoughtless way in which Your Sacred Body,
Your Precious Blood is so often handled? How hastily consumed, the Bread
of Angels! How quickly quaffed the Precious Blood that bled for so many
hours and through how many wounds upon the Cross! Failing to truly discern
Thee under so humble a guise, with what haste they consume Thee ...
as Thy people Israel grew weary of Manna in the desert of their affliction,
hungering for things more delectable to their senses still.
How often I have seen you, Your Most Sacred Body, carelessly scooped
out by the handful ... and thoughtlessly, hastily, tossed from
one vessel into another, as though quickly apportioning an insignificant
food of so little substance, to impatient and indifferent guests! Perceiving
so little reverence, so little awareness in your priests, is it a wonder
that so few reverence the reality of your Presence when they receive
You? They do not see You ... any more than those unfortunate priests
at whose hands You are so outrageously trivialized. Forgive me my outrage,
my God ...
Steeped in sin, even I, a sinner, from whom so much is hidden, kneel
in stupefaction before it. How is it that I see your broken, bruised,
limp, and bleeding Body laying upon the Altar? How can I see what they
do not see? I am a miserable sinner in the outermost fields, hedged
in on all sides with thistles as towering as my sins? From this vast,
this immense and immeasurable distance, how can I see ... when those
whom you anointed, and into whose hands You have given Yourself, see
so indistinctly, or, for greater sorrow yet, not at all?
How can one man see
the Altar as no less than the full embrace of Mary as she wrapped herself
around Your dead and bloodless body when the soldiers placed You in
her lap, her tears laving Your body in unfathomable sorrow? Can the
eyes of a sinner behold his Redeemer, when the congregation of the sinless
see nothing? As the One, True Light is extinguished before our
eyes, we sing a paean to ourselves as “the light of the
Why do You break my
heart ... even if it is the heart of one who has broken faith
with You through sin?
Is mine an illusion?
Perhaps a hidden but consciously cultivated garden of pride? Am I simply
quick to seize and “secretly savor” what I deem to be a “privilege”
accorded to me and few others, the privilege of being “given to see”
... what so many others apparently fail to see?
And is this awareness
no more than the trap of pride in the guise of simplicity?