The Eucharist, Heart of The Church: Part One

05-06-2016 TENTH SUNDAY OF THE YEAR (C)

SCRIPTURE READING:
1Kgs 17:17-24.
Ps. 30:1-3.4-5. 10-11a.12b (R.1a)
Gal. 1:11-19. Accl; Luke 7:16.
Gospel Luke 7:11-17.

Preamble:

Dear friends please repeat these words after me;
Stay with me Lord Jesus, as I give you my mind, may your word never depart from me.
Stay with me Lord Jesus, as I give you my ears, help me listen and obey your voice.
Stay with me Lord Jesus, as I give you my heart, help me welcome you always.
Holy Spirit, rekindle in me the fire of your love. Amen.

What do we mean when we say that the Eucharist is the heart of the Church? Emeritus pontiff, Pope Benedict XVI tells us in his book God is near us that John the evangelist has set his account of the passion of Jesus Christ between two marvelous pictures, providing a kind of framework in which, in each case, he portrays the whole meaning of Jesus’ life and suffering, so that he can then flesh out the origin of the Christian life, the origin and meaning of the sacraments.

At the beginning of the passion story stands the account of washing the disciples’ feet; at the end, the solemn and moving account of the opening of Jesus’ side (Jn 19: 30-37).

In constructing his narrative thus, John takes great care to establish which day it was that Jesus died. It is clear in his Gospel that Jesus died exactly the time when the paschal lambs were being sacrificed in the Temple for the feast of Passover. Thus, through the exact time of his death it becomes clear that he is the true paschal lamb, that the business with the lambs is finished, because the Lamb has come.

For the side of Jesus, when it was pierced, John has chosen exactly the same word as is used in the creation story to tell of the creation of Eve, where we normally translate it as Adam’s “rib.”

In this fashion, John makes it clear that Jesus is the New Adam, who goes down into the darkness of death’s sleep and opens within it the beginning of a new humanity. From his side, that side which has been opened up in loving sacrifice, comes a spring of water that brings to fruition the whole of history. From the ultimate self-sacrifice of Jesus spring forth blood and water, Eucharist and baptism, as the source of a new community.

The Lord’s opened side is the source from which spring forth both the church and the sacraments that build up the church. The last supper alone is not sufficient for the institution of the Eucharist. For the words that Jesus spoke then are an anticipation of his death, a transformation of his death into an event of love, a transformation of what is meaningless into something that is significant, significant for us.

But that also means that these words carry weight and have creative power for all time only in that they did not remain mere words but were given content by his actual death. And then again, this death would remain empty of meaning, his words would remain mere empty claim and unredeemed promises, were it not shown to be true that his love is stronger than death, that meaning is stronger than meaninglessness.

The death would remain empty of meaning, and would also render the words meaningless, if the resurrection had not come about, whereby it is made clear that these words were spoken with divine authority, that his love is indeed strong enough to reach out beyond death.

Thus, the 3 words belong together: the word, the death, and the resurrection. And this trinity of word, death and resurrection, which gives us an inkling of the mystery of the triune God himself, this is what Christian tradition calls the “Paschal Mystery,” the mystery of Easter. Only the three together make up a whole, only these three together constitute a veritable reality, and this single mystery of Easter is the source and origin of the Eucharist.

But that means that the Eucharist is far more than just a meal; it has cost a death to provide it, and the majesty of death is present in it. Whenever we hold it, we should be filled with reverence in the face of this mystery, with awe in the face of this mysterious death that becomes a present reality in our midst.

Certainly, the overcoming of this death in the resurrection is present at the same time, and we can therefore celebrate this death as the feast of life, as the transformation of the world. In all ages, and among all peoples, the ultimate aim of men in their festivals has been to open the door of death. For as long as it does not touch on this question, a festival remains superficial, mere entertainment anaesthetize oneself.

Death is the ultimate question, and wherever it is bracketed out there can be no real answer. Only when this question is answered can men truly celebrate and be free.

The Christian feast, the Eucharist, measures the very depth of death. It is not just a matter of pious discourse and entertainment, of some kind of religious beautification, spreading a pious gloss on the world; it examines thoroughly the very depth of existence, which it calls death, and strikes out an upward path to life, the life that overcomes death. From this point of view, it becomes clear that the Eucharist is a sacrifice, the presentation of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice on the cross.