I was recently told that due to a genetic liver condition I should probably never drink alcohol again. As a priest, this presents a problem. We must use wine made from fermented grapes to say Mass. That is what Our Lord Himself employed at the Last Supper to transform the Passover into the Mass and perform the first consecration of the Eucharist. Only grape wine is considered valid matter. This is not a question of current discipline or even the continuation of an ancient and venerable custom; it belongs to the essential definition of the sacrament. It will never change.
Now for a bit of viticulture. Juice from grapes naturally ferments the moment it is pressed. The ability to drink what we think of today as “grape juice” (e.g., Welch’s) is the result of modern preservative processes that did not exist when Our Lord walked the earth. Freshly pressed and unpreserved, grape juice begins fermentation and, if immediately bottled, can then be used for Mass with the bishop’s permission, since the fermentation process has begun. The product of this process is known as must, from the Latin vinum mustum or “young wine.” For priests with liver issues, must is the only means by which it is possible to offer Mass.
I write this from a hospital bed. (Previously undiagnosed diabetes in addition to the aforementioned congenital liver issues have required the intervention of a number of medical professionals, but I will not bore you with the details.) At present I do not know whether I will have to use must to celebrate Mass after I have recovered. It depends in part on what happens to me in the hospital, in part on conversations I will have with my bishop. But considering the possible future one evening here in the hospital, and being apprehensive about it, I found myself thinking more about the Mass itself.
The Mass and the Eucharist are central to the Christian life. The Second Vatican Council calls the liturgy the “source” and “summit” of the faith, following a long tradition from the ancient fathers of the Church through the medieval doctors to today. Celebrating the Mass is central to the life of a priest. So I found myself thinking, “What if I had to choose between celebrating Mass and extending my life?”
In that long night of apprehension and fear, I uttered a prayer to Our Lord. I believe He gave me an answer. I know now that I would rather die celebrating the Mass than live without it.
From the days when it was said in the catacombs to the priest holes of Elizabethan England to the clandestine celebrations in communist China, priests have risked their lives to offer the Mass, just as the faithful have risked their lives to hear it and receive Holy Communion. And from the Masses sung with glorious solemnity in the most beautiful cathedrals in the world to the Masses whispered secretly with half-remembered prayers in concentration camps and gulags, Christ has become present in His glory at each and every one.
Until we see Our Lord face to face, there is no way to be closer to Him than to adore His body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist and to receive it worthily when we are able. It is the Mass that makes Our Lord really and truly present so that we can do so. We should never take it for granted. Now more than ever, I hope I never will.
I was recently told that due to a genetic liver condition I should probably never drink alcohol again. As a priest, this presents a problem. We must use wine made from fermented grapes to say Mass. That is what Our Lord Himself employed at the Last Supper to transform the Passover into the Mass and perform the first consecration of the Eucharist. Only grape wine is considered valid matter. This is not a question of current discipline or even the continuation of an ancient and venerable custom; it belongs to the essential definition of the sacrament. It will never change.
Now for a bit of viticulture. Juice from grapes naturally ferments the moment it is pressed. The ability to drink what we think of today as “grape juice” (e.g., Welch’s) is the result of modern preservative processes that did not exist when Our Lord walked the earth. Freshly pressed and unpreserved, grape juice begins fermentation and, if immediately bottled, can then be used for Mass with the bishop’s permission, since the fermentation process has begun. The product of this process is known as must, from the Latin vinum mustum or “young wine.” For priests with liver issues, must is the only means by which it is possible to offer Mass.
I write this from a hospital bed. (Previously undiagnosed diabetes in addition to the aforementioned congenital liver issues have required the intervention of a number of medical professionals, but I will not bore you with the details.) At present I do not know whether I will have to use must to celebrate Mass after I have recovered. It depends in part on what happens to me in the hospital, in part on conversations I will have with my bishop. But considering the possible future one evening here in the hospital, and being apprehensive about it, I found myself thinking more about the Mass itself.
The Mass and the Eucharist are central to the Christian life. The Second Vatican Council calls the liturgy the “source” and “summit” of the faith, following a long tradition from the ancient fathers of the Church through the medieval doctors to today. Celebrating the Mass is central to the life of a priest. So I found myself thinking, “What if I had to choose between celebrating Mass and extending my life?”
In that long night of apprehension and fear, I uttered a prayer to Our Lord. I believe He gave me an answer. I know now that I would rather die celebrating the Mass than live without it.
From the days when it was said in the catacombs to the priest holes of Elizabethan England to the clandestine celebrations in communist China, priests have risked their lives to offer the Mass, just as the faithful have risked their lives to hear it and receive Holy Communion. And from the Masses sung with glorious solemnity in the most beautiful cathedrals in the world to the Masses whispered secretly with half-remembered prayers in concentration camps and gulags, Christ has become present in His glory at each and every one.
Until we see Our Lord face to face, there is no way to be closer to Him than to adore His body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist and to receive it worthily when we are able. It is the Mass that makes Our Lord really and truly present so that we can do so. We should never take it for granted. Now more than ever, I hope I never will.
