“You must celebrate the Mass,” the old sacristan, Marta, had told Lorenzo. “Before Easter. Before He turns His face away completely.”
The wooden face on the altar began to change. The sorrow lines softened. The weeping eyes dried, then closed. When Lorenzo intoned the Pater Noster , the lips of the Volto Santo moved silently with him, a fraction of a second behind. messa volto santo
Outside, the first rain in six months began to fall on Santa Lucia. “You must celebrate the Mass,” the old sacristan,
Lorenzo touched his own cheek. It was wet. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying. The sorrow lines softened
At communion, Lorenzo placed the host on his tongue. For a moment, he tasted not bread but ash — and then, honey.
Lorenzo looked toward the main altar, where the tabernacle lamp glowed red.