In the Consecration, Christ renews His sacrifice in an unbloody manner. The act of love that prompted that sacrifice is eternal, for He is the Lamb slain in sacrifice ever since the world was made (Rev. 13:8). Each time the priest speaks the words of consecration, he applies Calvary and its fruits to a particular place and a particular time. Localized at one point in space and one moment in time. The priest takes the Cross of Calvary with Christ still hanging on it, and he plants it in New York, Paris, Cairo, and Tokyo and in the poorest mission of the world. We are not alone at the altar; we are in horizontal relations with Africa, Asia, our own parish, our city----everyone. Clinging to the chasuble of every priest, for example, are six hundred million souls in China who as yet know not Christ. When the priest takes the host in his hand, he is looking at the fingers gnarled from slavery in the salt mines of Siberia. As he stands before the altar, his feet are the bleeding feet of refugees tramping westward toward barbed wire, beyond which lies freedom. The flame of the candles reflects the flow of blast furnaces tended by gaunt men who for their labors are denied economic justice. The eyes gazing at the host are wet with the tears of the widow, the suffering and the orphan. The stole is a sling that the priest carries on his shoulder living stones, the burden of the churches, the missions of the entire world. He drags the whole of humanity to the altar, where he joins heaven and earth together. For his hands raised at the Consecration merge into the hands of Christ in heaven, who lives on still to make intercession on our behalf. (Heb 7:25) Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen (The Priest is Not His Own)
Posted on: Sat, 28 Jun 2014 20:21:22 +0000
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