Savoring the sacrifice of the Mass

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger

It’s no secret that the decline of priest numbers in what we call the “western” world has been steep in recent decades. We need priests for Mass. One might then have anticipated, logically and strategically, fewer Masses and/or massive recruitment efforts. Yet that has not always been the case. Even after COVID (when public Masses were unavailable), former schedules have largely resumed, though attendance has not always recovered. 

Long gone are the days when urban parishes typically staffed two or three resident priests, each of whom celebrated one Sunday Mass, perhaps assisted by a visitor from a local religious community. Yet today, with their numbers substantially reduced, priests step up even after retirement to unchanging schedules, often driving miles to meet demands.

Rural communities are different, often less “supplied.” A single Mass is common, especially where more than one parish must share. It is told that, historically, farmers often went by foot, sometimes trudging for hours, thus enhancing if not savoring the sacrificial character of Mass. A serious exchange of self-giving — albeit unequal — was palpable, especially without A/C. For celebrant and participant alike, convenience was no issue.

In many corners of the globe this sacrificial spirit surely perdures even today. Even where distance is not the main challenge, safety risks are. Hardly a week goes by absent a report of some Christian congregation being bombed or massacred. While none of us — priest or parishioner — relishes the prospect of fewer Mass times, an honest and humble perspective in our planning would surely consider that it is not the universal norm, now or throughout the ages, for Mass to be as conveniently available as in our lifetime. We all must sacrifice.

Society has become accustomed to instant gratification, “fast” food and same-day delivery by Amazon. And don’t we love it! One of the accommodations under discussion in many dioceses, including our own, is the possibility of Communion services absent a priest on Sunday. Such “priestless” rituals would basically follow an order similar to a Mass with prayers, biblical readings, perhaps a reflection, ending with the distribution of the sacred species consecrated at a recent Mass. Some may welcome this accommodation even to the point of it being regularized, that is, scheduled. The mind and practice of the Universal Church, however, is that such celebrations remain extraordinary, never normative. Nothing can replace the Mass as the sum and substance of Catholic worship, where a priest and the community of faith gather as one. In our Diocese, we respect this norm.

Communion services detached from the presence of a priest having a real pastoral bond with the community of faith can quickly lead to a “commodification” where Holy Communion becomes more of a product or thing than a personal presence. In fact, even when a priest may show up in the functionary role of “sacramental minister,” something of that pastoral bond is lost if he must rush off to the next stop, like a speedy train that barely pauses in the station while hustling commuters to work. Quite naturally, both priests and people sense something askew when a priest is hustled to hasten off to the next Mass. 

In my priesthood — most priests I suspect would concur — some of the more profound moments of life-sharing and faith-building have occurred in the hall or vestibule of a church after Mass, when people and priest might pause a few moments to share an event, a joy, a grief, an experience of God’s action in their lives, or a desire for a prayer or blessing to accompany them on their faith journey. The narrative of disciples on the road to Emmaus is a perfect parable of the connection among conversation, scripture and the breaking of the bread, how Christ is present in that protracted holy communion.

What am I getting at? Is the demand to maintain a specific hour of Mass — “my” Mass! — with which we have grown so accustomed more central than the need for both priest and parishioners to engage one another personally? Is part of the quandary here that we have come at times to see the Most Holy Eucharist as more of a thing, an “it,” than a personal relationship of Jesus with us and of us with one another, priest and people together?

One way or another, there is no way to face these challenges without some sacrifice it seems. At the risk of sounding overly defensive of my brother priests, the problem may not be a lack of diligence or activity on their part. Most are saying three or four Masses on a given weekend, sometimes more, and often with considerable mileage on their cars to make the connections. If we are willing to sacrifice the convenience of having as many time options as we now have for the most part, can we see the greater benefit it could be for all of us to have more time for prolonging the meaning of the Mass. Jesus remains with us always. By sharing the joy of his presence, in and beyond the Mass, in our conversation and faith-sharing, we assist the Mass to achieve its effect of uniting and bonding the community, experiencing not just the adoration but the profession of its reality, its evangelizing purpose.

The presence at Mass, in other words, can become more “real” as we take the time to let it be the sacrament it truly is, the one Jesus Christ in our midst, not only on our tongues as we consume the sacred species, but in our conversation, work and faith-sharing as we witness its reality. The Latin Mass ends with the command “Ite, missa est.” Much commentary has been made on the plain and metaphoric meaning of these words, literally “Go, the Mass IS.” Yes, Mass is not over when it ends. It is never over. And the Holy Communion that we receive is always more than a few moments of reverent reception and ingestion. It is sometimes said, “you are what you eat.” Well, if we are really consuming our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ at every Mass, then it should be manifest what we are and what we become from receiving him. Lovers know that real love cannot be rushed or quantified. It must be relished, almost bathed in. The Mass is the world’s greatest celebration of love. Like any good meal, it should not be gulped down but savored, even that takes sacrifice.