Understanding the Mass, Part 4
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05/27/04
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His Presence in Word and Sacrament
As
we have seen, the Lord Jesus is really and truly present in the
Eucharist in at least four distinct ways. In our
last article, we discussed His presence in the people and in the
person of the priest. Now it is time to examine the third way He is
present in the Mass, in the word of God. It’s a caricature to
depict the Protestant church as the church of the word and the Catholic
Church as the church of the sacraments. This is certainly not the case.
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[Editor's Note: This is the fourth of a series
on the Mass
The Catholic Church sees the Bible, the inspired word of God, as a
priceless gift, and this is reflected in the Eucharist. In fact, the
first part of the Mass centers on readings from scripture: one passage,
a psalm response, sometimes another passage, and then a reading from one
of the Gospels.
This Liturgy of the Word isn’t an abstract catechism lesson. Through the
readings, the Lord wants to speak to us personally, cutting through all
our defenses and penetrating to the depths of our hearts with a
nourishing, challenging word leading us to conversion. This has happened
time and time again in the Church’s history.
Francis Bernardone, son of a cloth merchant in Assisi, walked into
church one day during a period when he was searching for meaning in
life. He opened the lectionary to this text: “Go, sell what you have,
give to the poor, and come, follow me” (cf. Mk 10:21). Francis knew this
word wasn’t just for the Apostles 1200 years earlier; it was for him,
right there and then. He walked out of church, did exactly what that
scripture said, and so began a world-wide spiritual revolution that
still impacts us today.
My own conversion began in a similar way. I had never missed Sunday Mass
except when ill, but it didn’t mean a whole lot to me. I kept showing
up, though, and because I was there, the Spirit suddenly one Sunday gave
me ears to hear. The gospel reading — Jesus’ calling Peter to come and
follow him — penetrated to the depths of my being. I was so impressed
that I ripped out the reading from the missalette, took it home, and put
it up on my wall. I started reading Scripture, and before long my life
was transformed.
This is how the Lord wants to work in our lives, and we can cooperate by
cultivating openness to the word heard at Mass. It’s not just at the
table of the Eucharist that we’re nourished. The pulpit is like a table
too, as the Second Vatican Council explains: "The Church has always
venerated the divine Scriptures just as she venerates the body of the
Lord, since from the table of both the word of God and of the body of
Christ she unceasingly receives and offers to the faithful the bread of
life, especially in the sacred liturgy" (Dei verbum, para. 21).
We read the Scriptures first because they build up our faith. Christ is
present in them, preparing us to discern the Real Presence of His Body
and Blood under the signs of bread and wine.
In addition to the readings, the word of God comes to us through the
prayers of Mass. Listen carefully, and you’ll discover that these
prayers are almost entirely scriptural. They’re either direct quotes or
paraphrases like the Creed, which the Church Fathers put together as a
summary of the essential scriptures.
Take the greeting that the priest usually gives us when he walks in:
“May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the
fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.” That’s a direct quote
from St. Paul: 2 Corinthians 13:14. Or the Gloria that we pray on
most Sundays: “Glory to God in the highest and peace to His people on
earth.” That’s Luke 2:14. At every Mass we sing “Holy, holy, holy, Lord,
God of power and might.” That’s Isaiah 6:3, with a bit of another
scripture passage thrown in toward the end. What about “Behold, the Lamb
of God, who takes away the sins of the world”? That’s what John the
Baptist said (Jn 1:29). And then there’s my favorite, that great
Italian, the centurion who told the Lord he wasn’t worthy to welcome him
under his roof (cf. Mt 8:8); we quote him every time we pray, “Lord, I
am not worthy to receive you....”
The final and most special way that the Lord is present in the Eucharist
is in His Body and Blood, present to us under the signs of bread
and wine.
Jesus is God, and so He is omnipresent. But Jesus is man as well as God;
His humanity can’t be present everywhere in the same way as His
divinity. Jesus’ glorified humanity is at the right hand of the Father.
In the Eucharist and only in the Eucharist, though, He makes His Body
and Blood present to us in a totally real way. This is why the
sacramental presence of Christ’s Body and Blood is so extraordinary. In
all of the other sacraments Jesus gives us His grace, says St. Thomas
Aquinas, while in the Eucharist, the “sacrament of sacraments,” He gives
us His whole self, His divinity and His humanity.
How is this possible? How can Jesus be present bodily under the forms of
bread and wine? Many people have the impression that it’s all
hocus-pocus. But the Eucharist is emphatically not magic. Rather, the
transformation of bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood happens
the same way Mary’s virginal conception did: through the power of the
Word and the power of the Spirit. The incarnation may seem impossible,
yet all Christians believe it. It happens the same way creation did: God
spoke and the world was made out of nothing through the power of the
Word and the Spirit. Likewise, in the Eucharist, the One who said “let
there be light” says “this is My Body” and “this is My Blood.” Through
the power of the Spirit invoked upon the gifts, an awesome change takes
place.
About the year 1200 or so, as some Catholics were struggling to find a
way to explain this change, they came up with the word
“transubstantiation.” Many people struggle with this word today! One
reason why we find it hard to understand is that the word “substance”
has different meanings. For us, substance is something you can touch.
Substance abuse, for example, has to do with tangibles like drugs and
alcohol. In theology, though, substance means something that
underlies what you can see and touch; it’s the unchanging essence of
the thing that resides under its appearances. Surface characteristics —
“accidents,” as theologians call them — have to do with everything that
could be otherwise, be changed or altered — say, how long your hair is
or how fat or thin you are.
Transubstantiation, therefore, means that while everything looks the
same on the surface, the underlying essence of a thing is changed. This
is just the opposite of what happens in the world we see. Usually,
appearances change while the essence of a thing stays the same. In the
Eucharist, though, the underlying, invisible substance is transformed
from bread and wine to Christ’s Body and Blood. Everything looks the
same as before. Even with a microscope, you wouldn’t be able to tell the
difference, for the level at which this change happens is far too deep
for human probing. But in the Eucharist, Christ is as truly present in
His Body, Blood, soul, and divinity as when He walked the roads of
Galilee, healing and preaching.
This is an excerpt from Marcellino D’Ambrosio’s book, Exploring
the Catholic Church (Servant Books, 2001) reprinted here with the
author’s permission. For a copy of his book or his CD Getting More
out of the Mass, visit
www.crossroadsinitiative.com.
by Marcellino D'Ambrosio, Ph.D.
Other Articles by Marcellino D'Ambrosio, Ph.D.
Dr. D'Ambrosio studied under Avery Cardinal Dulles
for his Ph.D. in historical theology and taught for many years at the
University of Dallas. He appears weekly on radio and TV reaching six
continents and his books, tapes, and CDs are internationally
distributed. He will be leading a Catholic Heritage Cruise/Pilgrimage to
Rome in July 2004. Information on his resources, talks, and cruise is
available on his website,
www.dritaly.com.
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