The scratch in the chalice

BY REV. THOMAS KONOPKA

Newly-ordained priests receive many gifts from family and friends at the time of their ordination to help them in their ministry. I think the most prized possession for any priest is his chalice.

For most priests, the chalice we use at the eucharistic liturgy was a gift from our families. On the bottom of my chalice is an inscription with the date of my ordination and that it was given to me in memory of my father, who died 12 years earlier.

This gift from my mother, sisters and brother has more value than any appraiser could ever give it. Given its value, I have tried to be very careful with it.

However, at some point during my first few years of priesthood, I noticed a long scratch in the gold in the inside of the cup. At first, it was a shock. I began to see what it would cost to get the scratch fixed.

Something wonderful happened during that time of pricing repairs. Every time I presided at the Eucharist and repeated the words of Jesus on the night of the Last Supper - especially the cup narrative - I looked into a chalice that was scratched, yet filled with wine that was no longer wine.

In the reflection of His blood and the scratch in the chalice, I saw myself. The mystery of the Eucharist began to take on a whole new meaning.

The Eucharist is not something to see from afar. In the scratches of our lives, and in the scratches in the lives of the poor and broken of this world, we see the living presence of Jesus.

In one of his homilies, St. John Chrysostom writes: "For God does not want golden vessels but golden hearts. Now, in saying this I am not forbidding you to make such gifts; I am only demanding that along with such gifts and before them you give alms. He accepts the former, but He is much more pleased with the latter. In the former, only the giver profits; in the latter, the recipient does, too.

"A gift to the Church may be taken as a form of ostentation, but an alms is pure kindness. Of what use is it to weigh down Christ's table with golden cups, when He Himself is dying of hunger?

"First, fill Him when He is hungry; then use the means you have left to adorn His table. Will you have a golden cup made but not give a cup of water?"

The scratch that I saw daily began to be the most beautiful piece in my chalice. At every Eucharist, I was reminded of the Body of Christ that lives in an imperfect world: those who strive for holiness, but are captive to alcohol, drugs, or something that took their life over.

I began to see those whom we are uncomfortable with: the mentally ill, those who smell or are not wearing the "right" clothes. I saw the parishioner in the hospital bed dying from cancer and the spouse caring for the other spouse because of dementia or Alzheimer's disease.

In that scratch, I realized the gold of my chalice, the design of my vestments, how well I followed the rubrics or how accurately I repeated doctrine were not important. The true measure of my life as a priest would be how I washed the feet of those God called me to serve.

The most important lesson I have learned from the scratch was the reality that, for me to be true disciple and a true priest, I needed to allow myself to be scratched by the sufferings of others and to embrace the Cross that God entrusted to me.

There is no holiness in perfection and no place for God to dwell. The scratch enabled me to see that I did not need to be perfect, only honest about my imperfections, sins, and my need for God.

For my graduation from The University at Albany with my Master's degree in social work, the people of St. Clare's parish in Colonie generously replated the inside of my chalice. After 15 years, the inner cup was restored to what it looked like the day I first used it.

Even though the scratch is gone, I still see it. I see it in my heart when I say the words of Jesus himself - "This is the cup of my blood" - and I see myself reflected in the blood of the One we call Master and Lord. I see it in the lives of the people I minister to in the parish and as a social worker.

I know the promise of Jesus is that His Cross and Resurrection will bring about a kingdom where there is no injustice, no poverty, no hunger - a place where the rich are hungry, the poor feast and the powerful serve the powerless.

My hope for every newly-ordained priest is to get a scratch in his chalice. It will hurt and will elicit some other feelings - but I suggest that it is left there.

To be a priest is to serve all those whom society sees as imperfect, not good enough, scratched and beat up by life. To be a priest is to serve the rest and wash the feet of all. To be a priest is to be poured out in love and service as the blood in that cup is poured and shared.

Only by seeing that scratch at every Eucharist will the message of God's Love in Christ be scratched into a priest's heart.

The scratch in my chalice taught me more than any class in theology or any book on the priesthood. It taught me to love as Jesus did and give my life for Him.

Priesthood would mean my heart being opened by a "scratch" of love that was poured out in the blood of the Cross. The scratch may be gone from the chalice; but, now, the scratch is in my heart.

(Father Konopka is sacramental minister for St. Clare's parish in Colonie and a therapist with the Consultation Center in Albany.)

(07/15/10)