Ghosts of the Chrism Mass

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Apr 17, 2025

Holy Thursday celebrates the institution of the Eucharist and the ordination of the first priests. The Chrism Mass—a Mass with special meaning to the priesthood—precedes the Holy Thursday Mass of the Last Supper and is indispensable to the life of the Church. The leading cause of death is life. And the cause of everlasting life is the death of Jesus and His glorious resurrection.

The creepy (but excellent) 1999 movie The Sixth Sense is instructive. Cole Sear is a young boy with a supernatural gift. Here’s the dialog:

Cole Sear: I see dead people.
Malcolm Crowe: In your dreams?
[Cole shakes his head no]
Malcolm Crowe: While you’re awake?
[Cole nods]
Malcolm Crowe: Dead people like, in graves? In coffins?
Cole Sear: Walking around like regular people. They don't see each other. They only see what they want to see. They don't know they're dead.
Malcolm Crowe: How often do you see them?
Cole Sear: All the time. They're everywhere.

The dialog helps us understand the annual Chrism Mass.

Every year, during the Chrism Mass on Holy Thursday, the priests of every diocese assemble as a presbyterate—the body of priests—and renew their ordination promises of respect and obedience to the local bishop. After the renewal of promises, the bishop consecrates the sacred oils used in the sacraments of baptism, confirmation, holy orders, and the anointing of the sick.

This year, the Chrism Mass provoked an unusual distraction that, I hope, brought me a deeper understanding of the Catholic Church. The procession of the priests filled the pews close to the altar. I stood in the back and gazed upon the assembly of priests. What began as a distraction continued with pleasant thoughts and maybe prayer. After 35 years as a priest, I saw dead people.

As the Mass unfolded, I gazed upon the young and old heads and remembered the many priests I saw when I was young, but who have gone away. They are ghosts. I saw dear friends who have since passed into eternity. I remember their faithfulness, laughter, and kindness. I remember a few enemies with their verbal barbs and clever insults. With some embarrassment, I remembered a few failures of my own in dealing with friends and enemies, now deceased. I also saw the faces of some priests who went off the rails and left the priesthood in shame. They’re all dead now. But I could see them again in my memory and imagination. They are the Ghosts of the Chrism Mass Past.

I also saw Ghosts of the Chrism Mass Present, of which I am a proud member. Of course, we’re not quite ghosts yet, but we’re closer than we care to admit. The color of our hair has changed. We’ve gained a few pounds, older, and maybe wiser—but not nearly as wise as we should be. And we resist surrendering to the temptation of world-weary cynicism as we jest, “Friends come and go, but enemies accumulate.”

Nevertheless, I felt affection for my contemporaries, if only because they were of my generation. They understand our unique generational experiences. We have something to offer other generations. Just as my generation had no clear sense of the chaos following Vatican II, the generations following mine have no clear sense of our work recovering from the chaos. As members of the same generation, we understand and share similar experiences, good and bad. With all the ups and downs, the annual Chrism Mass gathered us into one body.

Not too many years ago, a priest ordained for a couple of years informed me that the younger priests placed me on their “watch list.” He explained they targeted me as among the top five pastors who would soon open my parish to one of the young buck priests zealously desiring to take command of my ship. Let me get this straight, I responded. You vultures are looking at me as we ourselves looked at older priests twenty years ago! As historians quip, the more things change, the more things remain the same, like the Chrism Mass.

In my imagination, I saw the younger priests, many of whom I didn’t know except to say hello, and saw them as Ghosts of the Chrism Mass Future. By the actuarial tables, they are many years from their Omega point. However, as the melancholic hymn promises, time, like an ever-flowing stream, bears all its sons away. And we pray our daily rosary with a constant reminder: “Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.” Every Chrism Mass will see more gray hair.

The priestly Ghosts of the Chrism Mass are an admixture of melancholy, hope, consolation, and even joy. The liturgical clockwork of Holy Week gathers many priests across several generations as a body in prayer. The intergenerational body of priests enters the holy of holies of the Mass and meets the many ghosts of the entire history of the Church.

They recall Abraham, our Father in faith, Mary, Joseph, the Apostles, favorite saints, and the early martyrs. They remember the souls of the faithful departed, those present in faith, the pope and our bishop, the Church, and the entire world. Representing the diocese—a grouping of parishes and Catholic institutions within a geographic location—they witness the Source of their priesthood.

Regardless of their merits, the Eucharist is the Sacrament of Unity and holds them together. In union with their bishop, God sends these priests to their respective parishes to continue the sacrificial ministry of the Catholic Church.

There is nothing quite like the annual Chrism Mass in the entire history of the world, secular or religious. We have birthdays, family reunions, and national celebrations. However, only the Ghosts of the Chrism Mass offer a vivid reminder that the Mass and His Real Presence cement the bonds of unity among priests across every generation and for all time.