I attended a mass at...
Illustration
I attended a mass at the large cathedral in San Salvador in which they recently held the martyred Bishop's funeral with seating for nearly 5,000 people, perhaps 100 persons were there. I didn't have a suit with me so I had worn a brand-new Nicaraguan shirt I had bought in Managua -- white with beautiful lace on the front. There was not a worshipful spirit in the service. People were yawning; no one seemed to be interested. A little boy went up and down the aisle selling newspapers and people in my group became tickled and started snickering. Finally when the priest offered the Sacrament I went forward. None of the others went with me because we didn't seem to be in a very worshipful frame of mind. But I desperately wanted to worship that Lord's Day. I took the piece of bread and as I dipped it in the cup, the bread suddenly broke off and the red wine ran all down the front of my shirt. As I left the cathedral, I was resentful that I had been cheated out of a chance to worship God. I went back to the hotel and took the shirt off, put it in the sink and tried to wash the blood out. The more I washed, the more I became aware it was indelible. It still stains the shirt. Suddenly my heart began to realize there was some significance in that. "Had I been washed in the blood?" Then my heart began to sing that old hymn: "O happy day, O happy day, When Jesus washed my sins away."
