Mass was offered this morning for the repose of the soul of Frank Quinn (+), may he be blessed along with his family and friends and all those who mourn his passing. As we continue in our general fast from the blessed Sacrament during these difficult times, Saint John in the gospel reading today (chapter six of that Gospel) gives us the story of the feeding of the five thousand. Five thousand, with five barley loaves and two fish. After hearing this story for most of our lives, we should be just as shocked by it as by the story of a man returning from the dead and, indeed, a Man returning to life after being viciously tortured and crucified. Or even that, at every single Mass that we have attended and will attend, bread and wine are made into the Body and Blood of Christ through the action of the High-priest himself, acting through his priests. There's a powerful narrative link between these feedings of multitudes and the feeding with the bread of life that is at the heart of the communion rite at Mass.
It makes me ask myself, everyday, what this Mass of ours is, and how it draws us together into communion. All of us, not just those actually attending Mass in any one church, at any one time. All those who have received the Sacrament in holy communion. And we mean here not just people today or tomorrow, or yesterday, just as we do not mean those who are only in Europe, or England, or the Midlands. Catholics have always rejoiced in being united by the Mass across frontiers not just of space, but of time. We are then united to our fellow Catholics who lived through the horrors of the revolutions of recent centuries, through the horrors of the reformation movements of the sixteenth century, who suffered all manner of things in the middle ages, who rested in the peace of Rome in various times during the fourth century, who suffered horrible persecutions in the earliest centuries.
It bothers people very much, some more than others, that Masses have become entirely private now and take place behind closed doors. What is it to have a regular, communal service, with no community present physically at all? The answer to that question is, No, wait a moment, if what we say about the Mass is true - if this really is the communion of Catholics of all times and places - then it remains a communal service, even when it is severely restricted, as it is now. And there are ways of being present, without being physically present. I think of Saints like Padre Pio, who were sometimes able to be present to people at the same time in different places. That particular example may be beyond the rest of us, but there is a sense that when we kneel before, say, a statue of a Saint, we find ourselves before the reality that that image and shadow represents. Every day, during the Mass, I read through the first dedications of the Eucharistic Prayer. One of those paragraphs is this:
Remember, Lord, your servants N. and N. and all gathered here, whose faith and devotion are known to you. For them, we offer you this sacrifice of praise or they offer it for themselves and all who are dear to them, for the redemption of their souls, in hope of health and well-being, and paying their homage to you, the eternal God, living and true. [text source]
Know that all our parishioners are in that phrase 'your servants N. and N.,' even though they cannot be in the 'all gathered here.' The following phrase is something we need to consider ourselves, each one of us, everyday - 'whose faith and devotion are known to you.' On your accounts is this Sacrifice re-presented to the Father every day. For you and for all who are dear to you, for your redemption, your health and well-being, as you pay homage to the living God.
In these days, I would like to encourage you to read slowly, in as much as you can, through the Book of Apocalypse/Revelations, the last book of the Bible. As you do so, keep in mind that the book was intended as a message and warning to the Christian Church of all time. Stay faithful, stay true, remember the Holy Faith, etc. It presents a vision of the Holy Mass in its eternal aspect and also a vision of the final triumph of Christ, and by extension the triumph of Holy Church. I have heard an old priest once say that, when we look at those paintings of heaven that we sometimes see in paintings either in their native churches or in museums, that we should hope ourselves to be there present in the countless faces of the redeemed. That is our Christian hope. We work towards it everyday, by the grace of God.
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