luxuria

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Caritas Christi urget nos.

The love of Christ compels us, the Latin version engraved into the marble floor. Another Sunday, another mass to lead. Reverend Daniel Smith was currently the only residing priest at Saint Margaret's, which left him with the responsibility of almost everything. The parish was brand new to the city of Danvers, Massachusetts, meaning the Catholic Church only had one priest to spare until St. Margaret's grew in attendees. He had the help of two spare deacons, although at most times Daniel would rather just handle things alone.

"Good morning," Daniel spoke after the opening hymn had faded.

"Good morning, Father."

"In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, amen. May the love of God be with you all."

"And with your spirit," the crowd replied, lifting up their hands.

The first service of mass was run-of-the-mill, nothing particularly unusual occurring. Daniel went outside to the front entrance of the church as mass ended to send the parishioners off with well wishes. He was starting to see a lot of new faces, making him proud of all the work he and others put into the church. And once again, Daniel worked his way through another mass at eleven o'clock.

After the sanctuary had cleared out Daniel returned to his office where he would spend the next few hours. He shuffled through a stack of baptism registrations, volunteer applications, and youth group sign-up sheets. His laptop was soon pulled open and response e-mails were writing themselves; the room filled with the comfortable white noise of soft tapping. Daniel's office was in the back of the administration's building making it quite roomy, with plenty of space for a large oak desk, two small armchairs, and a quaint love-seat in the right-hand corner beside the door. The cool stone walls incasing it all in perfect warmth.

Hours ticked away, and come again it was time for Daniel to get into his pre-mass routine. He made his way back to the main building, the frigid air nipping at the exposed skin of his neck and hands as he did so. The walk was short and slightly excruciating, even with a coat. Daniel studied and trained for his holy orders in Arizona. He was not built for cold weather, and yet he never even contemplated complaining or suggesting a transfer.

Daniel slipped into the sacristy after performing the sign of the cross, fingers wet with holy water. The room was small and stuffy. There was a cushioned chair against the wall, a mirror, and a small closet full of holy robes and linens. He adjusted his Roman collar which fit snugly in the collar of his black dress shirt before vesting. Daniel stood in front of the mirror with his hands clasped together at his waist.

"Give virtue, O Lord unto my hands that every stain may be wiped away, that I may be enabled to serve Thee without defilement of mind or body." He recited.

Daniel then took his hands and starting from his front hairline to the middle of his neck he ran them over his head swiftly. He was creating a helmet. Daniel spoke again;

"Place, O Lord, the helmet of salvation upon my head that I may overcome the assaults of the devil," the words uttered as he took the Amice and placed it on his shoulders.

"Cleanse me, O Lord, and purify my heart that being made white in the blood of the Lamb I may have the fruition of everlasting joy." He whispered. Daniel slipped the lace adorned Alb on like a bathrobe.

"Gird me, O Lord, with the girdle of purity and extinguish in my loins the desires of lust so that the virtue of continence and chastity may ever abide within me." The cinture; and following came the Maniple, the Stole, and lastly, the Chasuble. Now, Daniel was ready for Mass.

Everything was familiar to him. A missal he had already heard before, repeated Glorias. He was comfortable and in a trancelike state. It was second nature to him, he was operating on auto pilot.

Mass was almost to an end when halfway through the communion line Daniel was brought to full attention.

"The body of Christ," he spoke, signing the cross with the wafer and awaiting the response of the parishioner in front of him.

"Amen."

It was eerily familiar, the responding voice. Daniel glanced back at the tall man before him, and it only took a split second to connect the dots. He was instantly brought back to the deafening ambience of the candlestick lit Saturday night. It was the man who was burdened by his wife's undesirable need for children. Daniel watched as he walked away, down the line back to the pews. He was saddened, and he wished the man nothing but the best.

Modicae fidei, quare dubitasti?

Man of little faith, why do you hesitate?