THE SERVANT’S 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
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:
Two letters — IS
— 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 world” ...
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
Totally Faithful to the Sacred
Deposit of Faith entrusted to the Holy See in
opera tua ... quia modicum habes virtutem, et servasti
verbum Meum, nec non negasti Nomen Meum”
know your works ... that you have but little power,
and yet you have kept My word, and have not denied My
© 2004 - 2023 Boston Catholic Journal. All rights reserved.
Unless otherwise stated, permission is granted by the
Boston Catholic Journal for the copying and distribution
of the articles and audio files under the following
conditions: No additions, deletions, or changes
are to be made to the text or audio files in any way,
and the copies may not be sold for a profit. In the
reproduction, in any format of any image, graphic, text,
or audio file, attribution must be given to the Boston