What If This Mass Were Your Last?

If I was ever diagnosed with a terminal illness, I’ve often wondered, how I would I react? Would I be filled with fear and dread? Regret? Or would I suddenly be seeing life here on earth in Technicolor?

On the day I received my death sentence, I would hope that I would see it as “the first day of the rest of my life.” I would hope that I would not view it as “taking away” something but as infusing a great gift of grace into my life.

Preparation for Death

It seems to me that I have spent the majority of my life in preparation for that moment, and yet it remains elusive, like a can continually kicked down the road. I could have another ten, twenty, fifty years left here on earth, which, to be honest, fills me with weariness. St. Bernard of Clairvaux said, “How consoling it is to see a just man die! His death is good, because it ends his miseries; it is better still, because he begins a new life.”

Thomas á Kempis, author of the medieval classic, Imitation of Christ, noted that it is even more dangerous to live long:

Alas! length of days doth not always better us, but often rather increaseth our sin.
O that we had spent but one day in this world thoroughly well!
Many there are who reckon years of conversion; and yet slender is the fruit of amendment.
If to die be accounted dreadful, to live long may perhaps prove more dangerous.
(Imitation, XXIII)

Like the early Christians awaiting the Parousia on the edge of their seats, as the weeks and months go on, you eventually start to doubt that Christ is going to be coming back in your lifetime. But like those first Christians, when you are convinced of His imminent return, you live each day on the cusp of Judgment, as if it were your last.

The Sacrament of the Present Moment

Those who live with a constant surge of cortisol (stress hormone) throw their bodies and endocrine systems out of whack. We weren’t meant to live in that constant “fight or flight” state as we do in the modern age.

What we are meant to do, however, is to live for today and not presume upon a tomorrow that may never come, as scripture says (James 4:13-15). This is the “Beginner’s Mind” approach to seeing the world anew, every morning – that your life is a gift, not something owed to you. That each breath you take is a privilege, not a right.

It can be transformative to live in the “Sacrament of the Present Moment,” as Fr. Jean Pierre de Caussade calls it. You take nothing for granted. Your only preoccupation, then, should be to live in a state of grace, accepting what comes from the hands of Providence (Matthew 6:34), as if each day was your last on earth. We can enjoy the fruits of this Sacrament of the Present Moment as this story from the East illustrates from a somewhat different vantage point:

A man traveling across a field encountered a tiger. He fled, the tiger after him. Coming to a precipice, he caught hold of the root of a wild vine and swung himself down over the edge. The tiger sniffed at him from above. Trembling, the man looked down to where, far below, another tiger was waiting to eat him. Only the vine sustained him. Two mice, one white and one black, little by little started to gnaw away at the vine. Then the man saw a luscious strawberry near him. Grasping the vine with one hand, he plucked the strawberry with the other. How sweet it tasted!

What If It Were Your Last

The intimacy which takes place at the foot of Calvary during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and the union which we achieve with the reception of Holy Communion, can also be easily taken for granted. We speak about “having to go to Mass” on Sundays rather than having the privilege of assisting at Calvary. We hardly recollect ourselves adequately with more than a few moments of silence about the state of union we share with Christ during the reception of Holy Communion.

But what if this Mass you attend…what if it were the last Mass offered on earth? How would it change your disposition? To what extent would your hunger for the Lord burn inside of you? What would you sacrifice to be there?

Like intimacy in a marriage, which can sometimes become commonplace and taken for granted over time, we find we have lost that “first love” of the Bride that quickened our pulse and took away our breath initially.

If we were told, “You have one month to live,” would the world suddenly become lit up with color? Would the strawberry taste sweeter? Would our Communions become mystical? Would we be filled with fear and despair, or hope and joy? Perhaps this is a good litmus test to evaluate where we are on the narrow way.

The Idol of Presumption

We take our lives, our loves, and our Lord for granted with the presumption that we are owed a certain number of years, or the Mass, or good health, or what have you. The Lord in His desire that we fulfil the First Commandment to love Him with all our heart, mind, strength, and soul will take from us the idol of presumption, because He is a jealous God (Exodus 20:5; 34:14; Deuteronomy 4:24).

In His loving chastisement, the Lord may even take many things from us. It may even be the Mass. For those He loves He also disciplines (Hebrews 12:6). Scripture also says that God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28).

We have the chance to be born anew each day, to experience the Sacrament of the Present Moment, to view life in Technicolor, to taste and see the goodness of the Lord (Psalm 34:8). Let’s not squander it. Assist at each Mass as if it were your last on earth!