On Remission & Rejoicing

Early morning at a friend’s lake house in Washington State this past week.

Hic est enim sanguis meus novi testamenti,

qui pro multis effundetur in remissionem peccatorum.

From Matthew’s account of The Last Supper, The Vulgate.

I have a confession to make: in the cool of the mornings and the calm of the evenings I have been teaching myself Latin. Sometimes I only get a few minutes here, five more minutes there, but as each day passes these bits have compounded into a wealth only those with multiple tongues know. 

As a Spanish speaker, the inheritance from Latin lent familiarity but I could not converse in this great ancestor of antiquity. The ligatures and diphthongs took me back to the earliest days when I practiced my virgulillas (ñ) and my alveolars (the shibboleth of the Spanish language, rolling one’s Rs). Though once sounds gave way to sentences, I not only had a new mind but new eyes.

And I began to see sacred things…

The morning when we heard my mother was cancer free, I had been reading in words Romans once breathed. The last two etched themselves in me:

REMISSIONEM PECCATORUM

Remission of Transgressions. 

Whenever I take the bread and wine, do I rejoice as though I have gone into remission? For transgressions are the carcinogens of the spiritual life. Like cancer, our own decay makes ruins of ourselves and those we love. When liberated of this persistent poison, how could there not be a celebration?

I could not help but imagine the gatherings across the world in communion. Multitudes taking the bread and wine as though entire populations of hospitals were granted more time. If the remission of things that thieve from the living could bring such jubilee, then how are we silent before the altar of eternity?

Upon this illumination, wouldn’t the masses be elated? Not only with their God but with each other? Wouldn’t then the euphoria erupt into the streets? And there would be no more secular things. 

As I approached the elements again, I closed my eyes and greeted an old friend. A friendship now deepened by a language that had died, and came back to life. Breaking the bread, I met redemption. Then with the wine, I entered my remission. Though we all eventually expire, this is life. 

Where is your ecstasy?

You will find me rejoicing.

Until next week,

-Steven

Looking for more? Read my most liked piece from 2023, The Creation Story is A Love Story or delight with me in Echoes of Eden. To all my subscribers, my gratitude for each of you continues to grow. If you have yet to subscribe, use the link below.