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The Lord said also to Moses : Speak to the priests and say to them: They shall be holy to their God, for they offer the bread of their God, and therefore they shall be holy.—Lev. 21:6.

Was it Saint Philip Neri who thought a single Mass sufficient to make an ordinary being a saint? Certainly it was the same kindly but shrewd ascetic who declared that, if he had twelve good priests, he would convert the world. What, then, are the elements that enter into the fashioning of the ideally good priest? Personal holiness, of course, which consists in the union of the priest with the Master, his exemplar and personal friend and his High-Priest. And this intimate union can be suggested in no more fitting way than by the word "communion "-union with unio cum Christo. “I am the vine; you the branches." The nearer the tendril is to the main portion of the plant, the more sap it will receive, the greater and more luxuriant will be its growth. In proportion as the priest is near to Christ, the holier he will be. “I am the vine and my Father is the husbandman. Every branch in Me that beareth not fruit, He will take away: and everyone that beareth fruit, he will purge it, that it may bring forth more fruit. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you, unless you abide in Me. He that abideth in Me, and I in him, the same beareth much fruit: for without Me you can do nothing".

What deed is it that unites us priests in so intimate a union with Christ whereby He abides with and in us, and we with and in Him? It is that deed which recalls the daring words of St. John Chrysostom, "nos sibi coagmentat," ? and which made St. Augustine say in the person of the Blessed Christ: “Nec tu me mutabis in te, sicut cibum carnis tuae, sed tu mutaberis in me." The union at Mass of the Christ and His priest is unique. At this Agape, the " vinculum amoris " -the Eucharistic bond of love—is forged in the "Burning Furnace of Charity.” In the immense depths of the Eucharistic "centre of all hearts," the " fountain of life and holiness,"
and the “abyss of all virtues” the priest's heart becomes submerged.

This union of the human soul and the Divine Personality may be viewed from different angles. There is the union of affection, the close bond of friend with friend. The Divine Friend assures His priests: "You are my friends . . . I have called you friends ... I have chosen you.” There is also the union or identity of purpose. In this unity, Christ shares with His priests the great desire to save souls. “Behold I come,". He says, and to His chosen ministers: “I have appointed you that you should go !” Again, there is the union or likeness between the model and its copy. The Divine Model admonishes those who would be like unto Him: "Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect." Moreover, there is also the union of the disciple and his Master. The servant delights to dwell near his lord. He anticipates the latter's wishes and avoids what is displeasing to him. “It is enough," says Christ," for the disciple, that he be as his Master, and the servant as his lord.” And finally, there exists that sacred relationship of the lover and his beloved which is aptly expressed by the singer of the Canticle of Canticles: “I to my beloved, and my beloved to me who feedeth among the lilies.” (C. 6: 2.)

Each of these various forms of union must solicit our admiration and stimulate our zeal. Nevertheless, in the hurry and bustle of this sadly distracting workaday world of ours, the heart of the ideally good priest can hardly fail to hunger after some simple formula, some clearly expressed symbol, some unique and outstanding fact, that may possibly assemble and coordinate these different kinds of union. Is there anywhere such a formula, such a symbol, such an outstanding fact? Fortunately there is. The one thing that assembles all these figurative, moral and spiritual ideas of union into one simply understood and clearly expressed symbol and fact of union, is, undoubtedly, the Sacrament of the Altar. There results from this coagmentation (to quote the thought of St. John Chrysostom again) a double gain. Not only does the priest become united with Christ, but he also becomes a symbol and fact of union between the real body of Christ and that mystical body which we call the Church. For it is the Mass that makes the priest the efficient fountain from which gush forth the waters of the Saviour unto all the thirsting children of men.

This is the ascetical theory of the priest's relation to Christ's real body on the one hand and to His mystical body on the other. And this ascetical theory, as theory we may call it, is a fact of Catholic doctrine. Is it any wonder that the Angel of the Schools, meditating the theory and practicing the fact, should have seen in this ineffable relationship those wondrous fruits to which he calls attention? The effects of the Holy Eucharist, says St. Thomas, are to give us a pledge of our future glory with God, to preserve the soul from sin, to purify it and free it from the punishment due to sin, to imbue us with a hatred for things earthly, to elevate the mind to God, to illumine the intellect, to give fervor to the affections, to refine the faculties of soul and body, to produce interior peace and holy joy. All these are the Eucharistic treasure trove of what Father Faber calls the “ Citadel of Divine Love”.

If such are truly the effects of supping at this Divine Table, we need not marvel at the words of St. Philip Neri : “Give me twelve good priests and I will convert the world”. There must assuredly be something wanting to us. Is it possible that to us may be applied the words of the Prophet Aggeus: “ You have eaten and are not filled, you have drunk and you are not inebriated ", since apparently we do not measure up to the standard of St. Philip's “good priests”? May it not be that we need to be reminded of St. Paul's admonition to St. Timothy: Renew thy first fervor.

If the preacher strongly conscious that his sermon may be the last, encourages himself to renewed efforts and speaks as a dying man to dying men, should not the priest with still greater reason stimulate his first fervor by a similar thought. This Holy Mass which he is about to celebrate may indeed be his last, for we know not the day nor the hour when the Son of Man cometh. The priest—that other Christ—truly offers a sacrifice of death for a dead world. If that world is to live again, it must be by the revivifying power of the Sacrifice of Calvary. And in this great recreative drama the priest must regard himself not so much as the minister of Christ, but as the Christ Himself of Calvary." Nearly every priest, even among those of venerable age, can probably recall with little effort the almost apocalyptical splendors that glorified his first Holy Mass. He would have been happy and satisfied if that first Mass had also been his last. This is no mere figure of speech. This is not fiction or fantasy. It has happened, ho ever, that the good God has prolonged his life and has granted him the priceless boon of many, many Masses during his priestly life. If, then, before each Mass or at his morning meditation he should recall the days that shortly preceded his ordination, surely his youth would be "renewed like the eagle's."  “I thought," sang the Psalmist,“ upon the days of old: and I had in mind the eternal years. And I meditated in the night with my own heart: and I was exercised and I swept my spirit. . . And I said, Now have I begun: this is the change of the right hand of the most High. ... I will be mindful of Thy wonders from the beginning. And I will meditate on all Thy works." Thus the priest is moved to meditate: If this Mass which I am about to offer were my last Mass, as it may be, I should offer it as a dying man for dying men.” With what a glow of enthusiasm would he ascend the steps of the altar to offer the Clean Oblation for the living, the dying, and the dead. He is not only offering the Holy Sacrifice for himself, a dying man, but he also offers it for that dying world for which Christ died.

Of course we have to face the fact, which in some respects is a terrible one, that we are after all children of nature. As such we are subject inevitably to that otherwise kindly process of nature by which she gradually and insensibly converts into a kind of automatism those activities which at first we had to learn to perform with anxious care. Whatever we do repeatedly, nature more and more tries to make automatic. A habit we call it. And the proverb warns us that habit is a second nature. But call it what we will automatism, habit or routine-slowly but surely and alas, all unconsciously, we fall under the sway of our natural inclinations."

Meanwhile, children of nature though we be, we are by our very profession striving to lead, not a natural, but a supernatural life. Grace is battling with nature. To which side should our sympathies lean? Certainly of all men the priest must once for all range himself on the side of grace. Now it is a fortunate circumstance that the very powers of intellect, will, and passion, which nature subtly strives to gain to her side, can be marshalled against her. For after all the intellect can be aroused by meditation before Holy Mass, the will can be quickened to its fullest zeal by the contemplation of Christ's initial Sacrifice on Calvary, and the emotions can be warmed into a glowing fervor at the thought of that heavenly Bread which is to sustain the life of the priest's own soul and, through his ministration, the souls committed to his care.

Reverting to the effects of Holy Communion as indicated by St. Thomas, we of course know that these are partly due to the opus operatum but also very largely to the opus operantis." We cannot add to the former, but by the kind of meditation I have indicated, we can immeasurably increase the latter, and so at least approximate to the ideally good priest of whom St. Philip speaks.

While the Holy Mass combines for the priest the two aspects of sacrifice and communion, the completion of the whole divine drama consists in the assembling of the faithful to eat the Body of Christ. In this way, the Holy Sacrifice is a means and help to that heavenly feasting—the priest preparing for it by the sacrifice and then eating of the Bread and drinking of the Chalice at Communion time. Such was the thought of the sublime poet of the Blessed Sacrament when in his “Sacris Solemniis ” he sang: "Sic sacrificium istud instituit”.

Continuing this view we shall find that our meditation stimulates the intelligence, quickens the will, and enflames the emotions in a worthy preparation for the Holy Sacrifice and for this supreme drama itself as a further preparation for the climax to be attained in Holy Communion. Thus meditation, sacrifice and communion are but links in the chain of personal sanctification.

In all that has been so far said the writer has but endeavored to give expression to the thought crystallized in the ancient proverb: “Quidquid agas, prudenter agas et respice finem.” The end, which is the last thing to be attained, is the first thing to be conceived. The end, of course, must be our sanctification; "for this,” says St. Paul, “is the will of God: your sanctification." Respice finem! It will represent to our minds the one great purpose of our creation. It will also enable us "prudenter agere ", for the end is not only the first thought conceived in the mind, it is also the rudder which is to steer us to the destined port—it is the “ guide, philosopher, and friend” always at our side, whispering into our ear words of counsel, of warning, and of kindliest encouragement. Our ancient proverb is a pagan one, and we are reminded alas ! how much the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of light.

V. F. KIENBERGER, O.P. Washington, D. C.
The American Ecclesiastical Review, Volume 63
edited by Herman Joseph Heuser