As the Church prays Contributors

My stomach is full, but my soul is hungry

As the Church Prays
Michael Podrebarac is the archdiocesan consultant for the liturgy office.

by Michael Podrebarac

Folks, I’m hungry. I mean, really hungry.

It’s Sunday afternoon, and we’re in the midst of one of the biggest winter storms to hit our region. The highways are so bad they’re closed, nearly all of them. Ice and wind and snow accompanied by bone-chilling temperatures.

I’m penning these words from home, isolated and thankful to be in and warm. But I’m so hungry. Not because I don’t have any food, for I have plenty. At least food that perishes.

No, I’m hungry for that food which never perishes, for I missed Mass this morning.

Of course, it was because of the weather, and I even tried to venture out and get to the parish church nearest where I live. But it was impossible.

Comforted by Archbishop Joseph F. Naumann that those unable to attend Mass because of travel impeded by the extraordinary weather, I offered morning prayer from the Liturgy of the Hours, inserting the readings from Mass after chanting the psalms. I made an act of spiritual communion, attaching my heart to the Eucharist offered in the nearby parish church as well as my home parish — both Masses celebrated with very small congregations, I imagine.

Even now, I just finished watching a livestream of Sunday Mass from the National Shrine in Washington, D.C., as even my parish church’s livestream was impeded by a power outage.

I know I’m not in trouble for missing Mass, because I had no control whatsoever of the weather or the conditions of the roads.

But I’m hungry, very hungry, because I had to miss Mass. I was not there to take my place in the sacred assembly, to hear the word of God proclaimed before that assembly, to offer myself with Christ in the eucharistic sacrifice or to receive that food which never perishes.

All I’ve been able to eat today is food that perishes. My stomach is full, but my soul is hungry.

I know all this may sound a little dramatic, but it is a dramatic thing indeed when we have to miss Mass. It’s a cross to bear for the homebound who have no choice but to miss Mass every Sunday. It’s a most tragic thing when we choose to miss Mass. And the ministry of livestream, helpful as it is, only provides pixels and the virtual  — not real — reality of sacramental worship.

To those of you who had to miss Mass last Sunday because of the weather or the circumstances of life: Be of good cheer. For the Lord knows how hungry we are, and we shall be satisfied. To those who would’ve missed Mass anyway, opting for livestream by choice, or for nothing at all, consider how hungry you must be.

About the author

Michael Podrebarac

Leave a Comment