June 8, 2004
The Mass, the Cross,
the Empty Tomb
Holy Week has again brought
to our attention the three great events of human history: the Mass,
Calvary and the Resurrection. Our deepest nature is drawn to that Great
One who is the center and source of everything that matters in our lives.
He is our spring. As spring fails if it does not produce the richness
of summer and the harvest of the fall and, yes, the carnival of the
darkness of winter, so will Christ fail if He does not produce in us
the life which, through Him, we are invited to live. We must give him
leave.
The Mass, the Cross, the Empty
Tomb: they are not three. They are but two: for the Mass and the Cross
are one. They are the cause of the empty tomb. It is most fitting therefore
that Holy Week should begin with the institution of the Eucharist.
The washing of the disciples’
feet, featured on Holy Thursday, is not merely an act of sublime condescension.
It is that, of course. Its deeper mean is indicated in the words of
Jesus to Peter; “If I do not wash you, you will have no part with
me.” The Old Testament High Priest washed the feet of the sons
of Aaron when they were introduced to priestly functions in the Temple.
Jesus, our High Priest, is about to ordain His priests. “Do this,
in remembrance of Me.”
The splendid doctrine of the Eucharist and its associate doctrine of
the ministerial priesthood are the very heart of our Catholic faith.
In the Eucharist “the whole spiritual wealth of the Church is
contained—namely Christ, our Paschal Lamb . . . it is the source
and summit of the Christian life, and [it] lies as a causative force
behind the very origin of the Church.” [Redemptionis
Sacramentum 2004] We must do our best to grasp, with faith-aided
minds, the profound wonder of Christ’s love for us, expressed
in this gift of Himself.
Our Lord, “the Lamb of God,” chose the bread and wine of
the Passover as the means of His victory over death for us, which the
Passover foreshadowed. In this choice, He Who is the Promised One of
the Prophets, brings to completion the Old Covenant and establishes
the New and Eternal Covenant. The bread and wine of the Passover are
eloquent symbols of the history of Israel.
Bread and wine have a universal symbolism—for they express our
deep desire for life and our failure to achieve it. This is expressed
in His words in Chapter 6 of St. John’s Gospel: “Labor not
for the meat that perishes but for that which endures into life everlasting,
which the Son of Man will give you.” Indeed, the meat which we
eat to preserve life’s energy consumes that energy as we consume
it. Shakespeare gives eloquent expression to this in one of his sonnets.
“In me thou seest
the glowing of such fire;
which on the ashes of its youth doth lie;
as the death-bed on which it must expire;
consumed by that which it is nourished by.”
This eloquent bread Our Lord took into His Hands and said, “This
is My Body, which will be given up for you.” Also, He took into
His Hands the chalice of equally expressive wine and said, “This
is the Chalice of My Blood, which will be shed for you.” With
“the sword of the word” He separated Body from Blood, and
lest we should miss the obvious, with words which cannot be misunderstood,
He made the dreadful event of Calvary really present. The Church has
always taught that His Mass and Calvary are the same event, differing
only in this mode of being.
Our Lord’s choice of bread and wine, as the means of making the
Sacrifice of Calvary present for us, reveals also His will to identify
with our weakness and sinfulness. “He Who knew no sin became sin
for us.” With His dying, then, we died with Him to weakness and
sin—and with Him also we rose to life: a life so strong in Him
that we lose it only if we choose.
The power which transforms our bread and wine at Mass into His Body
and Blood are His words, spoken by Him, and made present to us through
the instrumentality of His ministerial Priests, to who He uttered the
command; “Do this in commemoration of me.”
In the presence of this great mystery, this “wondrous love,”
we are all children. It is too high for our minds, and too deep for
our loves. Like children, we must listen attentively and devoutly to
Our Saviour’s words and observe His deeds—for if we are
not like children we will not enter the Kingdom. So He has assured us.
If we are attentive, we will find in the Mass a symphonic splendor and
an exquisite beauty, in comparison with which Beethoven’s 9th
Symphony will seem like sounding brass and clashing cymbal.
The special significance of the empty tomb will follow soon.
-Fr. O’Brien