In part one of my series on the biblical roots of the Mass, we explored how Jesus’ one sacrifice of Calvary didn’t conclude on the cross, but rather culminated in everlasting glory in the heavenly sanctuary.
But how does Jesus’ one sacrifice become present here on earth at every Mass? That is, how—in the most profound fulfillment of the Lord’s Prayer—does “thy kingdom, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”? (Matt. 6:10).
In my first article, I mentioned briefly the reality of biblical remembrance, also known as liturgical remembrance. There was a special character to a “memorial sacrifice” in the Old Covenant, of which one example was the annual Passover, which we know was a communion sacrifice—one that was offered and eaten (Exod. 12:14).
Recollection vs. Remembrance
For the ancient Israelites, remembering was never simply a human recollection and honoring of a past event, in marked contrast to what we Americans do every July 4 in recalling and celebrating our nation’s founding. The signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776, as well as in the events of the subsequent Revolutionary War, remain in the past. We have no direct contact with the original event.
To be sure, in terms of its animal and human participants, the Old Covenant Passover had its limited, finite aspects as well. The Israelites had to sacrifice new lambs every year, and priests could serve only from ages thirty to fifty (Num. 4:1-3). However, because of God’s participation in the first Passover, biblical remembrance for the Israelites becomes powerfully different from the mere human recollection associated with our Independence Day and similar events. Memory and action are intrinsically connected in the Bible, for to remember a past event is to call forth the power of that past event and experience its impact in the present. It is to be there, to relive the actual event in some sense, again, because of God’s participation (see CCC 1363). God, who created the dimensions of time and space, is not limited by time and space. The Lord is superhistorical, for he stands outside or above time, which enables him to be present to and impact all time, all human history.
To convey remembrance in this powerful, biblical way, the Israelites would use the Hebrew verb zakar and its derivatives, such as zikkaron, which is the Hebrew word for “memorial.” In short, God’s is the gift that truly keeps on giving; he simply has to remember a covenant promise to bring his blessing to bear on the present moment. In commanding that the Passover be a “memorial,” observed as an ordinance every year, God invited successive generations of Israelites to acknowledge and draw upon the divine power of the original event.
The Jewish Talmud provides further insight about the profound nature of a memorial sacrifice in the mind of the ancient Israelites. In Tractate Pesahim (or Pesachim), which references the norms for the Passover communion sacrifice, we read, “In celebrating the feast, we must act as though we ourselves had come up from Egypt” (Pesahim 10, 5).
So when the Old Covenant Israelites remembered the Passover, God enabled the original event to transcend time and impact participants in the present-day celebration, whether fifty, 450, or a thousand years later. The Lord’s action that first Passover possessed an enduring power that the Israelites could tap into again and again, every time they commemorated the feast.
The Mind-Boggling Power of New Covenant Remembrance
“Remembrance” in the New Covenant Passover is much more profound. Because
- there’s only one Lamb: Jesus Christ
- one priest: also Jesus
- and Jesus happens to be . . . God (John 1:1-3, 14; 8:58; see Rev. 5:6, 12).
Consequently, in contrast to the Old Covenant Passover, the entire reality of Christ’s one sacrifice of Calvary, inclusive of his actions at the Last Supper (the inaugural New Covenant Passover), becomes present every time a priest offers the sacrifice of the Eucharist!
So we become present at the foot of the Cross in mystery. But we also become united with the heavenly sanctuary, where Jesus intercedes for us now as the high priest of heaven (Heb. 8:1-3; see CCC 1137-1139). Jesus does not shed his blood and suffer anew, and in this qualified sense we refer to the Eucharist as a “bloodless sacrifice.” And yet, because the totality of his one sacrifice culminated in everlasting glory (see Rev. 5:6), we offer anew and partake of the one glorified Lamb of God!
As Pope St. Paul VI distills in the Credo of the People of God, no. 24,
We believe that as the bread and wine consecrated by the Lord at the Last Supper were changed into his body and his blood, which were to be offered for us on the cross. Likewise the bread and wine consecrated by the priest are changed into the body and blood of Christ enthroned gloriously in heaven, and we believe that the mysterious presence of the Lord, under what continues to appear to our senses as before, is a true, real and substantial presence (see CCC 1363; 1353; 1356-1368).
St. Paul affirms that the Eucharist is a real partaking of Christ’s body and blood, for how can mere wine (or grape juice) and bread cause people to get sick or even die? (1 Cor. 11:23-30; see also 10:16-17). Paul also affirms the Eucharist’s sacrificial nature in comparing it to offerings sacrificed to demons (1 Cor. 10:14-22).
Here Comes the Son!
Many Protestant Christians mistakenly believe that Catholics teach that we re-crucify Jesus anew at every Mass, as if we hope that our Lord can put himself through his passion and death just one more time,and emerge victorious in a new resurrection. If that were true—and praise God, that’s a caricature of the eucharistic sacrifice—then our doctrine would approximate the plight of the mythical Phoenix bird, who cyclically emerges anew from its ashes.
The “Sun Analogy” is more apt. Relative to us, the sun rises in the east every morning, and yet the sun continues working 24/7, even when it’s dark in our part of the world, or we’d freeze to death. In that light, pun intended, what’s new at every sunrise is not the sun, but our experience of the sun!
Similarly, Jesus the heavenly high priest always lives to make intercession for us through his one self-offering (Heb. 7:23-25, 9:23-24). So what’s new at every Mass is not a new sacrifice of Jesus . . . but rather our participation in that sacrifice, which Jesus blessedly enables, in a bloodless, gloriously completed manner—and which the Church thus can—and does—offer 24/7 around the world (see Mal. 1:11).
Consequently, the Mass is our window onto heaven. That means that paradise . . . is as close as your nearby Catholic church!
In our third and final part, we’ll explore how heaven and earth become one “according to the order of Melchizedek” (Heb. 5:6; see Gen. 14:18-20).