The Language of the Eucharist

Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi)

One of the things I love doing is learning languages.  In fact, from time to time I use a free app on my phone called Duolingo, which allows me to study, in this case, Dutch, at my own pace.  I love languages because it helps me understand people.  It’s like a key that unlocks the doors of those who don’t speak English.

When it comes to the Eucharist, we as Catholics have our own language.  That language, once understood, helps us to open up the riches of our faith when it comes to the Eucharist.  We use words like transubstantiation, which means that the bread and wine truly become, in their substance, the Body and Blood of Jesus.  We use words like host, Holy Communion, chalice, paten, and we use the word sacrifice.

That word, sacrifice, is the key to understanding the Eucharist.  Now, after Vatican II, there was a lot of emphasis on the meal aspect of the Eucharist.  And certainly, Jesus did institute the Eucharist at the Last Supper, which took place in the context of the Passover meal.  But even the meal of the Last Supper recalls the sacrifice of the lamb on the doorposts of the Israelites, the sacrifice which saved them from the death of the firstborn.

The Eucharist is not a community meal that celebrates the unity of the assembly.  The Eucharist is not a social gathering of like-minded people who share fellowship.  The Eucharist is the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, the truly unblemished Lamb of God whose Precious Blood, poured out for us, saves us from eternal death.  That is why the place where the sacrifice of the Mass is offered is called an altar, which is, by definition, a place of sacrifice.  On that altar, Jesus’ one, perfect, and unique sacrifice is made present for us in an unbloody way, so that we can share in what Jesus’ sacrifice made possible for us: life in heaven.  That is why those who offer the prayer are truly called priests, whose central job it is to offer sacrifices.  

When we understand the Eucharist as a sacrifice, it opens up for us the Old Testament.  Today’s first reading highlights the sacrifice of Melchizedek, king of Salem, who offers bread and wine to God Most High on behalf of Abram, our Father in Faith, after he had won the victory of foreign kings.  When we hear about a sacrifice of bread and wine, we should immediately think of the Eucharist.  And, as the Letter to the Hebrews in the New Testament states, Melchizedek is himself a prefigurement of Christ, as he has no beginning and no end (as evidenced by no genealogy); his name means King of Justice; and he is the King of Salem, that is, King of Peace.  And even Jesus’ miracles, like the one we heard in today’s Gospel, point to the sacrifice to which the Eucharist points.  Jesus offers loaves and fish, which is clearly different from bread and wine.  But, in an early mosaic at the place where this miracle happened, there are two fish, and a basket with four loaves, right in front of the altar, because the fifth loaf was understood to be the bread that was offered on the altar.  

Understanding the Eucharist as a sacrifice also changes our approach to it.  If the Eucharist is merely an old thanksgiving meal, then how we act, how we approach the Eucharist, how we prepare for the Eucharist, doesn’t really matter.  Yes, preparations are necessary for Thanksgiving dinner, but it has to do with the food, not so much with the people attending.  If the Eucharist is simply a thanksgiving meal, then our attendance doesn’t really make a difference; sometimes family members make other plans on Thanksgiving than spending it with all their extended family.  If the Eucharist is merely a thanksgiving meal, then you might have special dishes or special entertainment on TV, like watching the Lions lose, or you might decide to make things easier and go with chinette plates, and you might change up what you watch or what you listen to.  

If, instead, the Eucharist is the sacrifice of our salvation, the means by which we are cleansed of our sins and heaven is opened to us, then we prepare by making sure that we are in communion with each other and communion with God through the Sacrament of Penance regularly.  We prepare by fasting from most food and drinks for one hour before we receive Jesus.  We show up because we are grateful for what Jesus did for us then, and what He continues to do for us each day.  We use special clothes and special vessels, and special music, because it is made for a sacrifice, not for entertainment.  We might even read the Sunday readings ahead of time as a way of preparing, or attend daily Mass as an overflow of our gratitude to God.  

Without sacrifice, we cannot understand the true nature of the Eucharist.  And understanding the Eucharist as a sacrifice also helps us to unite our daily sacrifices to Jesus, because we know that He already did that for us, and we want to return to the favor, even in our own daily ways, big or small.  Understanding the Eucharist as a sacrifice allows us to approach the Body and Blood of Christ, not as if we’re in a line at the grocery store, waiting to get a handout, but with wonder and awe and reverence as we receive Jesus, our Lord, on our tongues and on our hands, as He brings us into union with Him in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood.

Who is the Holy Spirit?

Solemnity of Pentecost

Who is the Holy Spirit?  I will admit, growing up He was the Person of the Blessed Trinity with whom I was least familiar (luckily, He was much more familiar with me!).  But we grow up hearing about God the Father, and of course, as Christians, we spend much of our time focusing on the work of Jesus, the Son.  We talk about the Holy Spirit, but usually in relationship to Jesus.  So as we celebrate Pentecost, it can all seem a bit out there.

Our readings today give us a clue about the Holy Spirit: who He is, and what He does.  He unifies; He demonstrates power; He continues the work of Jesus.  In Genesis, in the story of the Tower of Babel, when people try to get to God on their own terms, confusion is caused.  In the Pentecost account, though, it is the Holy Spirit who unifies the Apostles and Disciples in proclaiming Jesus to the people in different languages.  It seems like the best thing in today’s world is diversity.  And diversity is a gift.  Even I have to admit that if everyone were like me, the world would be a dull place (but it would be amazingly organized and punctual!!).  But, in the midst of diversity, we also need unity, we need something to bring us together.  And what truly brings us together is the Holy Spirit, who utilizes our diverse gifts and personalities in order to achieve unified goals.

The Holy Spirit demonstrates power.  In the Book of Exodus, as the people go to worship God on the mountain, there are peals of thunder and lightning, a cloud over the mountain, and very loud trumpet blasts.  Smokes rises from Mt. Sinai, as the Lord came down in fire.  The Holy Spirit was demonstrating power.  The same happened in the upper room: the Holy Spirit shook the room, and tongues as of fire appeared over the apostles’ and disciples’ heads.  In the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel, the Holy Spirit gives life to the dry bones, and in the Book of the Prophet Joel, the Holy Spirit is promised to help the people prophesy and work wonders.  Throughout the history of the Church, the Holy Spirit has demonstrated power, not only in the magnificent ways, but even in smaller, yet equally powerful ways.  Each time Mass is celebrated, the Holy Spirit transforms bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ.  I have spoken to you of priests I know whom the Holy Spirit utilizes to heal others (the work is the Holy Spirit, the vessel is the priest).  Lay men and women are given incredible courage and strength to talk about Jesus, not only in the old days to Roman governors and foreign kings, but even in our own days.  One of our own young parishioners shared an account with me of how the Holy Spirit answered his prayer through a phrase from Scripture that a friend spoke to him after He asked God for a sign.  The Holy Spirit continues to exercise His power in the world.  

The Holy Spirit continues the work of Jesus.  In John’s Gospel, Jesus breathes on the apostles and says, “‘Receive the Holy Spirit.  Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them.’”  Jesus came to reveal God the Father, to share the truth about what truly makes us happy as human persons created in the image and likeness of God, and to share the mercy of God.  The Holy Spirit continues to do that.  Through the proclamation of the Word of God, especially at Mass, we come to know the Father better.  Through the teachings of the Church, we learn the truth about how we can experience the joy and peace that God desires for all His children.  Through the Sacrament of Penance especially, we receive the mercy of God.  In this way, the ministry of Jesus spreads throughout the whole world, and is not limited to Palestine.

So what?  Who cares?  All of those things are nice, but to what end?  We need unity, and not simply around the lowest common denominator of belief, but unity in the truth.  We need a unified goal towards which we can apply the diversity of our gifts.  And this is certainly true as a parish.  We need the power of the Holy Spirit to help us proclaim the Gospel, not only in what we do, but also by what we say.  Without this sharing of the truth, by showing the power of the Holy Spirit to make even the meekest person share Jesus as Lord, our parish will continue to shrink.  We need to continue the mercy of Jesus, because that is what we are about as a Church: not a social club, not a weekly meeting of people who live in the same area, but those who are committed to continue, by the power of the Holy Spirit, what Jesus Himself did and taught.  

We may not be as familiar with the Holy Spirit, but we need Him, now as much as at any time.  We need the unifying power of the Holy Spirit continuing the work of Jesus in us.  The growth of our parish depends on it!  Come, Holy Spirit!

Watching for Jesus to Return Together

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

So, ad orientem.  You’ve noticed that there have been no differences thus far.  But as I wrote in my bulletin, we’re only doing this for this weekend.  Still, the differences you’ll see are only during the Eucharistic Prayer.  But why ad orientem?  Is this simply another crazy Fr. Anthony idea?  Is it old stuff for the sake of old stuff?

For probably at least 1800 years, the Church celebrated Mass this way, and as my bulletin article says, there are hints that it’s still pre-supposed, as one of the instructions on the Mass will say, “”The Priest, turned towards the people…”.  But we celebrated Mass this way for a reason.  And that reason coincides with what we celebrate today: the Ascension of the Lord.  The Apostles, the Blessed Mother, and the disciples see Jesus ascend into heaven.  The site of Jesus’ Ascension is on a hill to the east (ad orientem) of Jerusalem.  And ever since then, we’ve been waiting for him to return.  This year, we celebrate 1,986 years of waiting for Jesus to return as He promised.  The orientation (which comes from a word that means east-facing) of the Church since Jesus left was looking for his return.  Honestly, that’s hard to do, especially after 1,986 years.  Nowadays, we get frustrated in the ten seconds it takes Siri to give us an answer.  We can forget that our Lord is coming back, “‘in the same way as you have seen him going to heaven,’” as the angel said in our first reading.

So our Mass has always reminded us that we’re waiting on Jesus.  Scott Hahn, a noted Biblical scholar and writer, speaks about how Tertullian, who lived form 160-220, already writes about Christians (and at that time there was really only one type of Christians, Catholics) facing east during our worship.  St. Clement of Alexandria, St. Basil the Great, and St. Augustine also all speak of this practice.  One of the early house churches in Syria, dating from 233, is arranged so that priest and people faced east, with an altar against the east wall.  St. John of Damascus in the 7th century also speaks of this practice.  

Scripture itself talks about the importance of the east.  In addition to our first reading, we can also look to Malachi, who prophesies Christ as the “Sun of Righteousness” (and the sun rises in the east); to Zechariah in the Gospel according to Luke who refers to Jesus as “‘the dawn from on high’” (and dawn comes from the east); and Jesus’ own words in the Gospel according to Matthew, who says, “‘For just as lightning comes from the east and is seen as far as the west, so will the coming of the Son of Man be.’”  

But all of these things point to the face that we’re waiting for Jesus to return from the sanctuary not made with hands, heaven itself, and restore not only Israel, but the new Israel, the Church.  And the way that we face reminds us in our worship of God to be ready for His return, to be like the wise virgins who are ready, or like the homeowner prepared at all times so that he is not robbed.  That’s why we’re doing this, for this weekend only.  

And there is something very unifying about this.  When I celebrate Mass facing you (as is common and allowed), it can seem like it’s a performance of sorts for you.  Your eyes probably naturally focus on me.  But if you notice, in order to highlight that we’re waiting for the Lord, I almost never look at you during the Eucharistic Prayer, unless I’m speaking to you.  I look towards the heaven, to God, whom I’m addressing most of the time during that holiest part of the Mass.  The common orientation can easily become a me versus you scenario.  When Mass is celebrated ad orientem, we are all united, facing the same direction, facing our Lord in the tabernacle and waiting for his return.  Yes, I’m still at the head of the assembly, leading us all to Jesus, but I’m also a part of you, not disconnected.

The common response is that my back is turned towards you.  But Pope Benedict XVI aptly wrote in his book The Spirit of the Liturgy, “The common turning toward the east was not ‘a celebration toward the wall’…it did not mean that the priest ‘had his back to the people’….  For just as the congregation in the synagogue looked together toward Jerusalem, so in the Christian liturgy the congregation looked together ‘toward the Lord’…They did not close themselves into a circle; they did not gaze at one another; but as the pilgrim People of God they set off for the Oriens, for the Christ who comes to meet us.”  Again, it all goes back to waiting for Jesus to return, to keeping our eyes fixed on him, to reminding us to be ready for the Second Coming.  

And this even remains uninterrupted in both Catholic and some Jewish cemeteries.  There is a large Jewish cemetery to the east of Jerusalem on the hill that leads up to the place of the Ascension.  It’s packed full, and it’s the prime cemetery, because the Jews also believe that the Messiah will come from the east of Jerusalem, and they want to be the first to greet him when he comes (of course, we know that He has already come, and will come again).  And in our own New Calvary Catholic Cemetery, and in every Catholic cemetery I’ve visited, when people are buried, they are facing the east, so that they can be ready to greet Jesus, the Dawn who comes from on high.  

But, as I mentioned, I have no plan to extend this practice here beyond this weekend.  And it’s not about turning back the clock, or about doing something traditional, and certainly not about turning my back on my people.  No, it’s about facing the Lord, being focused on him, and being ready for his return.