Woe to the world without this pure, holy and immaculate victim, constantly sacrificed on the altar for its atonement and purification!
Woe to the souls that do not have Jesus Christ in the tabernacle! Poor me! if I do not have that consecrated Host that is my life, my strength, my only love and desire, my only joy and happiness. If I could only give my blood right down to the last drop for the beloved Church, for the doctrine that is scorned, for so much grace that is wasted and trampled on. Jesus, Jesus! Your ministers are sometimes the first to more or less see this liquid treasure spilled out from your very heart!
Oh my God, let me weep for this great misfortune with tears from my soul! They treat you, Lord, and your divine Sacraments with such a lack of respect, with such impure hearts and hands! How can you allow this to happen, Lord, how can you suffer it in such profound silence? Faith, Lord, faith! Shed your divine light on those minds that have been darkened by . . . shall I say it? (a hidden force makes me say it clearly!), darkened by vice . . . and you suffer, Lord, in the silence of the tabernacle you weep at the insults, at the loss of those poor souls.
Mercy, Lord, have mercy! I can see, Father, although I do not know how, the terrible judgment awaiting those priests who neither receive nor give the precious blood of Jesus Christ as they should . . . who do not work at their own holiness, in order to fruitfully sow the divine seed in hearts. The priests who live in the Church of the Lord like parasites have an enormous responsibility . . . I can feel the profound complaints of the divine Heart about this, something that deeply deeply hurts him!
If only with my blood and with my life, with my crucifixion, I could alleviate the pain of this divine Heart so maltreated by his own! My soul is in pain, Father, and I wish to be a victim. I want to suffer, and belonging entirely to God, I want to sacrifice myself for the holy and pure Church, where he has put his heavenly riches.
I need worthy and pure priests as victims, I mean, just as you saw me, pure white and constantly yearning for the sacrifice. I would gladly join them to myself in the sacrifice of the altar, offering both of us at the same time for the salvation of the world.
Yes, daughter, you should know this. I am constantly entering into impure souls, a terrible crime that will be punished by my justice with torture! This is a fairly constant thing too in my priests, who should be pure, chosen and clean vessels not only to receive me but to keep me in them consoling me and giving me to console with sacrifices of love.
The priest brings about on the altar, daughter, an exact copy of the Incarnation of the Word. It is as if, with the words of the Consecration, he creates, that is, gives life (this is the divine virtue inherent in those words) to a Being, a Being that is both divine and human, called God and man, the Word made flesh, your Jesus. The priest does not and cannot give life to God, because God is Life. He does not and cannot give life to the God-Man, because He lives and will live eternally glorified. Rather he transmits that divine and human life into the substance of the bread and the substance of the wine, bringing about the transubstantiation by the power of his words, so that what was before just bread and wine, after those holy words pronounced by the priest becomes the substance of my body and blood that was shed on Calvary . . . .
When the priest takes the divine words of the Consecration on his lips, words born of Love, from an Excessive Love of the Word God Made Flesh, he has in them the substance of creation, and shortly afterwards he holds in his hands, I mean immediately after the words are pronounced, the substance of redemption, sacrificing me . . . .
Oh daughter! the priestly ministry is so sublime, and the bodies and souls of those who perform it should be so HOLY . . . .
These most remarkable texts (adapted for the Daughters of St. Philip Neri) about the Eucharist, the experience of a Mystical Incarnation, and a participation in Mary's Spiritual Motherhood to Priest were written by a Mexican woman, who was married, had children and then became a widow - Concepcion Cabera de Armida. She passionately loved Jesus in the Holy Sacrament, to such a point that he became the center of her life. The heart will become warm again from contact with the fire of these writings, and will be cured of the indifference and the thoughtlessness with which the world of today treats the Eucharist. She lived in a time of violent religious persecution and a markedly anti-Christin revolution. May she be the spiritual mother of those who read this reflection, converting them into worshippers who seek the Father, "real worshippers who worship the Father in the spirit and in truth." May she guide them from a love of the Lord in the Eucharist to a love for His priests and desire for their conversion.