The clock is shattered.

A podcast I heard discussed the transcendence of God – everywhere all at once.  I knew, but I didn’t know; and I’m in awe of this phenomenal reality. The Feast of Corpus Christi keeps me in this state of wonder.

God transcends time and space. God is not just “here” in Acadiana today while also being “here” in … say, Portugal … today.  He is also “here” in our Diocese of Lafayette today while also being “here” in our Diocese of Lafayette in 1926.  Everywhere, every time. All at once.

Fully grasping this, I realized that to step into the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is to step clean out of time. 

Through the power of the Holy Spirit, the clock is shattered.  In that moment of the Eucharist, seconds do not tick forward, locking the past away in memory and keeping the future out of reach. Our God dwells in the Eternal Now.

We do not repeat history's greatest tragedy. The Council of Trent reminds us that the sacrifice of the Cross and the sacrifice of the altar are one and the same. The only difference is the manner of offering: on Calvary, it was bloody; on our altars, it is unbloody.

When the priest, acting in persona Christi (in the person of Christ), speaks the words of consecration over the bread and wine, this moment is no mere trip down memory lane. It is a liturgical action that collapses the centuries, making a past reality powerfully present in the here and now.

When the bells ring and the Host is raised, we are not spectators watching a historical reenactment. The Mass parts the veil, and we are standing at the foot of the Cross alongside Mary and John.

When the priest lifts the paten, do not just look upon Him.  At this moment, we fully participate when we lay down beside the bread our quiet victories, our heaviest crosses, our hidden griefs; and we let them be pulled into that timeless vortex of love.