Perhaps it is safe to say that nowhere in our world is there another priest who celebrates Mass as though he were bearing Christ's cross through every moment of it. He indeed bears witness to the Passion of Christ in his body. There is an expression of suffering on his face at the supreme moments of the Mass.

There have been many accounts written about the Mass of Padre Pio, but few have captured the essence of his Mass as well as Malachy Gerard Carroll: the hidden meaning behind this great drama which makes Calvary present again. He personally witnessed Padre Pio's Masses in the early fifties. The following is excerpted from the chapter, "The Mass of Padre Pio," from his book, Padre Pio

Calvary is a place, and the crucifixion of Christ took place at a definite time; but by his mighty words: "Do this in commemoration of me" — Christ instituted the Sacrifice of the Mass as the real renewal of that death, in an unbloody manner, "from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof," as the prophet Malachias had foretold. After that, every moment became a mystical Calvary, for at every moment of the day and night, somewhere in the world, Christ is brought on the altar by the words of a consecrated man whose priesthood gives him the power to command Divinity, which is immolated anew in a bloodless manner.

When that priest bears in his own body the mystic marks of that reality, we kneel down in wonder. This is the secret of that intensity we feel palpably around us when we assisted at the Mass of Padre Pio. . . . The Mass of Padre Pio jolts us to the realization that the world is too much with us; that we must take steps to remove the dust of neglect from those spiritual wonders that are ours to command.

The first distinguishing feature of the Mass of Padre Pio is its length, varying between an hour and a quarter and an hour and a half. The audible parts of the Mass, are, however, said just as any other priest would say them; there is no hint of dramatic resonance in his voice or any slow emphasis. The length of his Mass is due to the long pauses of contemplative silence into which he enters at various parts of the Holy Sacrifice.

When he first ascends the altar, before reading the Introit, he makes a considerable pause before the tabernacle as though in contemplation of the mighty work he is about to perform. The celebration of the Mass always meant pain and suffering for Padre Pio, and sometimes a little trickle of blood would be seen flowing from the wounds in his hands. He always puts a handkerchief on the altar for such moments. Is it fanciful to see an analogy here between that first moment of Padre Pio's Mass and the moment when Christ first faced his Passion? Is there something of the shadow of Gethsemane on the soul of Padre Pio in that silence before the tabernacle?

After the Orate Fratres he again stands silently as he savors, perhaps, the deep significance of that meum ac vestrum sacrificium. This is followed by a long pause at the memento of the living, for Padre Pio has many to remember. The sorrows of the world all come to him, and he accepts them as his own. In that deep silence, the congregation crowded behind him really feel that he is taking their lives, their worries, their ambitions, their sins and their sorrow for sins all the spotted reality that is their human nature, with its heroisms, its groping, its cowardices, and is lifting them up to Christ in hands that are shadowed with Christ's wounds. It is a mighty moment for any man whose name is in the heart or on the lips of Padre Pio.

For example, there was the lady who approached him after Mass with a request that he should pray for a matter that was vital to her. Before she could do so, he greeted her with the news that he had already prayed during the Mass at which she had assisted, told her what her intention was, and assured her that all would be well. Other examples of this can be found in the books published on Padre Pio. A similar pause comes at the memento of the dead, when Padre Pio's hands of prayer reach mercifully and longingly towards Purgatory. I have been told that, on one occasion, a peasant whose son had just died, came running towards San Giovanni Rotondo, and shouted as she passed to some workers in the fields: "My poor Francesco is dead! But Padre Pio will put his hands into the flames and he will be safe!" This is the feeling of every person who has the good fortune to commend some dear deceased one to Padre Pio: he will reach hands of prayer towards Purgatory for him, and everything will be all right. The greatest silence of all descends on Padre Pio at the priest's communion; for it is now a silence that seems to deepen itself in the breath of the Holy Spirit, until it becomes one with the abysmal silence of the Eucharist.

The great things in life are paid for with pain. Turn to the story of any of the great Founders or Foundresses who have given splendid religious Congregations to the Church, and you will find that the debt was paid by them. When Christ calls a soul to a special vocation, he marks that soul with the seal of his elect—with the seal of pain. Padre Pio has been privileged to be a living witness to the wounds of Christ, and he has a mighty vocation of mercy to his fellow men in the wasteland of the twentieth century. Kneeling at his Mass, we get glimpses of the pain at the heart of his ecstasy—the price he too is called upon to pay.

Perhaps it is safe to say that nowhere in our world is there another priest who celebrates Mass as though he were bearing Christ's cross through every moment of it. He indeed bears witness to the Passion of Christ in his body. There is an expression of suffering on his face at the supreme moments of the Mass, and his body sometimes is seen to twitch with pain. His fingers tremble and hesitate about breaking the Host, as though the veil has been rent for him and the reality of what he is doing has become too intense. His lips shiver as he raises the Chalice. When he genuflects, it is as though an invisible cross has crushed him down, for he rises painfully and with the utmost difficulty. There are moments when he seems lost in colloquy with God, when he moves his head as though nodding assent and he speaks some abrupt words. Sometimes he weeps, as though a shadow of the world's sin has come between him and the Eucharistic Jesus. His compassion for the Christ he sees mocked again is great. And there are those hands exposed during the Mass, and otherwise hidden by the brown woolen mittens he constantly wears. Those hands can be seen, with the stigmata on them, the mystic shadow of the nails. And sometimes they bleed. . . .

When the Mass is ended, every man sees a hand raised in blessing over him a hand marked with a bloody wound. Calvary becomes a reality, and the Mass appears in all its shattering wonder for each and all. It is impossible to have no more than vague, questioning about the silence of Padre Pio as he stands transfixed at the altar. That silence keeps its secret. But of one thing we can be certain — this silence reaches out to the silence in the heart of each one kneeling there, and according to the depth of spiritual silence within each heart will the real message of Padre Pio be felt. The great, radiating meaning in the life of Padre Pio is his Mass.

. . . Behind the wonder that is Padre Pio, there is a Divine purpose, and that purpose may well find its supreme expression in the Mass of Padre Pio. We need a cosmic recall to the things of the spirit — and above all to the Mass, the pulsating heart of Christianity. May it not well be that Christ struck down Padre Pio and marked him with his Five Wounds, in order that he might stand at the altar as the living image of the Crucified, and that through him the Mass might become vital for us? For it is the Mass that matters, and until its power is again felt in the heart of our civilization, all will not be well.

Short to go with the chapter on the Mass

"The Mass was the center of the spirituality of Padre Pio. His day was a continuous preparation and a continuous thanksgiving. The stigmata reminded him that at the altar he really represented the crucified Christ. . . . His voice was broken with emotion from the Consecretion on. His eyes were glued on the Host and on the chalice; his person was totally taken up by the Divine Presence and as if it were annihilated by it. A profound peace, which shone from his transfigured face, invaded him. Celebrated in this manner, the Mass imprinted itself on the mind and on the heart of those present so that it never effaced itself from them again. They carried with them the suffering and the joy mixed with the tears of Calvary." — P. Riccardo Fabiano

Two days before he died he repeated: "Love Our Lady and make her loved. Recite the Rosary and recite it always and as much as you can."

Some of the beautiful epithets spoken by Padre Pio on our Lady: "Abyss of grace and purity; Incomparable Masterpiece of the Creator; Tabernacle of the Most High; Receptacle of divine secrets; Woman bathed in light; Exquisite Dove."

"With what care she accompanied me to the altar this morning! It seemed to me as though she had nothing to think about other than me filling my heart completely with saintly affections."

"I should like to have a voice strong enough to invite the sinners of the whole world to love our Lady!"

As Padre Pio lay dying on the morning of September 23, his last words were, "Gesu . . . Maria," "Gesu . . . Maria," "Jesus . . . Mary," "Jesus . . . Mary."

Some people are so foolish that they think they can go through life without the help of the Blessed Mother.

When one acknowledges the importance of the Blessed Mother in her Immaculate Conception, it is the first step on the path of salvation.

Love the Madonna and pray the Rosary, for her Rosary is the weapon against the evils of the world today.

With great tenderness, he always spoke of the Blessed Mother as "my dear little Mother."

All graces given by God pass through the Blessed Mother.

When asked, "Does the Blessed Mother ever appear to you, and do you see her?" Padre Pio replied, "The blessed Mother comes to me whenever I need her."