The Veil Is Gone

"Jesus cried out again in a loud voice, and gave up his spirit. And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom." -Matthew 27:50-51

I've been in Palm Desert for a month now, and to use a worn-out expression from my first months in Ireland, I'm "all settled in." I've found my new stomping grounds for Sunday mornings, too. I go to Sacred Heart Parish every week, enter through the parking lot doors, veer to the left, and grab a spot for myself in the pews nearish the pianist and cantor, turning my head a little to the right, looking toward the sanctuary at a slight angle.

The masses I've gone to at various times of day are delightfully packed, with families of varying ages and the usual dosage of gray-haired faithfuls. The mass is well-executed, most often by our dear pastor, Fr. Lincoln, a man who often cites his switching from Protestantism to Catholicism earlier in his life (I say switching because you can't really convert religions unless you change religions, according to sociologists). He makes an explicit welcome to non-Catholics each week before he begins the Opening Rites of the mass, and his zeal for the Catholic faith poured through his Bread of Life homilies the past few weeks, when he emphatically upheld the Real Presence of Christ in our Eucharist as something evident in Jesus' words in John's Gospel.

One of Fr. Lincoln's diligently practiced conventions comes after the end of the Eucharistic Prayer. Before inviting the gathered faithful to pray the Lord's Prayer together, he issues another invitation. Fr. Lincoln invites all the children in the congregation to join him in the sanctuary to pray this cherished prayer together. For those who have the patience to wait a minute while the children make their way up there, this is just awesome.

At the 9:30am mass, a loyal mother takes her special needs son by the hand and slowly escorts him to the altar, taking her time, even if they don't make it before the prayer starts. This morning, another special needs boy was helping serve the mass and hastily made his way to Father's side, praying the words loudly and proudly. There are big sisters toting little brothers; moms nudging kids toward the altar; kids waiting until halfway through the prayer, not wanting to be the first ones; or this morning, a boy from the family next to me making his way toward me down the pew and gently saying, "Excuse me, sir."

It's just awesome.

I was reflecting on the visual of this beautiful manifestation of Jesus' words in the Gospel:

Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked them, but Jesus said, “Let the children come to me, and do not prevent them; for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” -Matthew 19:13-14

Here is a consecrated man, our priest, acting in persona Christi to bring the Word-Made-Flesh among us through the power of the Holy Spirit, and he is literally physically emulating the action of Jesus in the Mass. This is the tearing of the veil of the sanctuary.

When Jesus died on the cross, St. Matthew tells us that grand events took place: Creation even knew its Savior had died - the earth quaked; darkness fell. The Centurion professes the true identity of Christ, the Son of God. Also, the veil is torn that separates the Holy of Holies in the Jewish Temple, that space reserved for sacrifice by high priests. No longer is the awesome, profoundest presence of God confined to one special space or meant only for the select few. Christ brought the Love and Salvation of God to everyone. Anyone who confessed the faith, as the Centurion at the foot of the cross did, could know God and be with Him forever.

Some people may prefer that the Mass just continue from the Great Amen straight into the Our Father, and maybe it would be smoother and more apt to the order of the Mass. For me, I'll enjoy this gesture as an extension of the Mass that exists within its order. I'll relish the lack of the veil, the fact that no barrier exists between us and God beside our own stubborn wills. As long as we practice reverence and seek Christ in our hearts, He is there for us, out in the open, without a curtain to give us pause in our return to Him. These children come to Him, giving us a beautiful example as they walk unabated toward the God who calls.