At a Mass with music you might miss it during the singing of the Lamb of God, but without the music, you will notice a silent stillness just before the priest elevates the Host and says, Behold the Lamb of God. He is praying inaudibly, preparing for his communion with the living God. One of the prayers is this:
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, Who, by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through Your death gave life to the world, free me by this, Your most holy Body and Blood, from all my sins and from every evil; keep me always faithful to your commandments, and never let me be parted from you.
When I was beginning to say Mass, the English translation was still the old one, and I knew how poor it was. Frustrated by the inaccuracies and leaden phrasing, I memorized the original Latin forms of all the prayers that are said inaudibly, since the only reason to use the vernacular would be to facilitate the understanding of the laity in attendance, and they aren’t able to hear these anyway. Some phrases were harder than others to memorize, and to form on my lips, for example: keep me always faithful to your commandments comes from et fac me tuis semper inhaerere mandatis, which is a real mouthful.
But mostly the rich formulation of the Latin, untarnished by mundane overuse, made the phrases both more beautiful and more memorable. Plus, when the new English missal came out ten years ago, I didn’t have to learn them over again. These prayers in this form have been uttered by priests daily for centuries upon centuries, and provide a rich reminder of what we do.
The one phrase that gives me pause every time, and not because I forget the words or trip over the syllables, is: a te numquam separari permittas -- never let me be parted from you. It sounds like something a newlywed would say. The words could come from the lips of a mother to her son, or a daughter to her father, or between the truest of friends, but there is an inescapably nuptial quality that embraces to the two bodies becoming one in the consummation about to occur.
These words never fail to engage my heart as well as my mind and mouth, as I realize some element of the complexity of their truth. There is a more than a hint of desperation, and no lack of gratitude and delight. In context, there is the acknowledgement that the coming together is more His work than mine, which work includes helping me to inhere in His commandments in what I desire and do. How fragile this union between me and my Lord; how powerful!
This unheard whisper of the beloved to the One Who is Love, this intimate expression of the most generous desire of a soul, articulates the expansiveness of Eucharistic love. It reveals and encourages the ecstatic openness one to another of all who share in this coming together, this becoming one. We desperately want not only our communion with the living God to last forever, but also our communion with one another in Christ’s risen body: we on earth, with the saints round the Divine throne; we in Silver Spring with the worshiping faithful around the world; we in the pews, with our family, our friends, our neighbors; and the priest with his people. A te numquam separari permittas -- never let me be parted from you.
