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Exploring the Mass... The table is prepared; the offering is ready. We stand as the presider invites us to “pray that our sacrifice may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father.” And we respond, “may the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of his name, for our good, and the good of all his Church.” This invitation and response emphasize the sacrificial nature of the holy meal in which we are to partake. We are reminded that we not onlookers, but active participants in the sacrifice: it is “our” sacrifice, not just the priest’s. And it is “ours” in the broadest possible way. “The Eucharistic celebration in your community, in your parish, is the offering of the sacrifice of the entire Church. Your assembly … does not create or invent its own Mass. Rather, you are invited to move beyond yourselves to enter into the action of the entire Church which is the action of Christ himself” (Lustiger). Our response to the priest’s invitation also points to the two primary purposes of this holy sacrifice: “the worship of God and the sanctification of the faithful” (Johnson). Eucharist literally means “thanksgiving,” and the great prayer which is about to begin is one in which the overwhelming theme is thanksgiving. But in praising the holiness of God, we also grow in holiness. The liturgy reminds us of this again and again: “You have no need of our praise, yet our desire to thank you is itself your gift. Our prayer of thanksgiving adds nothing to your greatness, but makes us grow in holiness” (Preface of Weekdays IV). In the words of St. Cyprian: “When we rise for the prayer, beloved, we must watch and apply ourselves with all our hearts to prayer. Let all carnal and worldly thoughts be cast aside, let the soul think of nothing other than praying.” In the liturgy of the 1570 Missal, this prayer was called the “secret” prayer. It was “secret” not because its content was mysterious, but because it was said in silence by the priest, who only recited the conclusion aloud, “per omnia saecula saeculorum.” The Prayer over the Gifts is short, simple, and easily missed, but as with many of the prayers in our Roman Rite, more is meant than meets the ear. As Robert Cabié observes, these prayers are “filled with the words used in the Eucharistic Prayer for the sacrificial offering,” and often express in short summary all we hope this liturgy will accomplish in our lives: “By offering what you have given us may we receive the gift of yourself” (20th Sunday); “may our offering bring you true worship and make us one with you” (23rd); “may the worship of each one here bring salvation to all” (24th); “may the gifts we offer bring us your love and forgiveness and give us the freedom to serve you with our lives” (29th).
With these words, the Eucharistic Prayer begins, the heart of the Mass. It is one great prayer, which concludes with what is sometimes called ‘the great Amen’ following the doxology, “through him, with him, in him.” This opening dialogue is among the most ancient parts of the Christian liturgy, and was prayed at the Eucharistic celebration as early as the 2nd century. Twice already in the Mass the presider has greeted us with the words, “The Lord be with you”: at the very beginning of Mass, and again before the Gospel reading. “What would be the reason for repeating such a greeting now in the middle?” asks Father Driscoll. “After all, priest and people have had plenty of exchange already up to this point. The greeting is repeated precisely because we are going to start praying now with much greater intensity, and if we are to manage it, we will need divine help.” The exchange which follows tells us how we are to pray: “Lift up your hearts.” “We lift them up to the Lord.” We lift up our hearts, we go up to a higher level. Finally the priest invites us to join in the entire prayer of thanksgiving, eucharist, which follows: “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.” And the people give their assent: “It is right to give him thanks and praise.” Following the dialogue comes the preface, which is so called not because it comes before the Eucharistic Prayer (of which it is the beginning) but because it is said before all the people. In English usage, a preface is usually the part of the book we can skip, if we choose to. But the liturgical preface is much more than that. It is “a poem… the song of the world discovering its salvation” (Béguerie); and because it is a poem, it is most often sung. The Preface is addressed to God the Father (as is the entire Eucharistic Prayer). It begins by elaborating on the words we just spoke—“it is right to give him thanks and praise” —asserting that yes, “we do well always and everywhere to give you thanks.” There are many prefaces—the Sacramentary includes nearly 90 for various feasts and seasons. Each of them expresses, in one way or another, why we give thanks, by painting the history of salvation with strokes that are bold and broad. “By his birth we are reborn. In his suffering we are freed from sin. By his rising from the dead we rise to everlasting life” (Sundays IV). “By dying he destroyed our death; by rising he restored our life” (Easter). “Through his cross and resurrection he freed us from sin and death and called us to the glory that has made us a chosen race, a royal priesthood” (Sundays I). Why do we give thanks? Because God has given us Christ his Son, who in his living, dying, and rising has brought us new life. It is as simple and as amazing as that! Each of the prefaces concludes with an invitation to join in song: not just any song, but the Sanctus, the “Holy, holy, holy,” the song of the heavenly liturgy (Isaiah 6: 3-4; Revelation 4: 8). At this moment in the Mass, at the beginning of our great prayer of thanksgiving, we join in the liturgy of heaven, where “day and night they do not stop exclaiming: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God almighty.’” Our song lasts only a moment. But for this moment we sing the music of “the choirs of angels,” the song of “the great company of saints” and “all the powers of heaven.” These invitations to song are well worth listening to. They invite us to take our place in the communion of saints, which unites us to all the faithful, the living and the dead. And in union with them we sing “the unending hymn of praise,” “the triumphant hymn,” “the song of joy,” “the hymn of your glory,” “the new song of creation.” As Father Deiss observes, at this moment the liturgy looks to the cosmos. “The text of Isaiah reads: ‘The earth’ is full of his glory.’ The liturgy substitutes: ‘Heaven and earth are full of your glory.’ The perspective is enlarged; it is immense. It is both on earth and in heaven that the angels and humanity, along with all of creation, unite in a common exultation…. To the question: Is the cosmic universe, with its millions of stars and its millions of light-years, interested in our Eucharist? The liturgy answers: Yes, for Christ is the firstborn of creation.” (Deiss) Following the Sanctus, we kneel for the first time at Mass. Kneeling can have many significations—it can be a sign of repentance, entreaty, or worship. At this moment, we kneel in adoration, acknowledging our smallness and poverty in the presence of an awesome God. In the description of the heavenly liturgy in Revelation, the twenty-four elders respond to the “Holy, holy, holy” by throwing themselves down before God, casting their crowns at his feet, and exclaiming, “worthy are you!” And after we sing our Hosannas, we too fall to our knees, in acknowledgment that God is truly present in our midst, “on earth as in heaven.”
Continue on to: The Shape of the Eucharistic Prayer The description of the invitation to the Sanctus is indebted to a presentation by Dr. James Savage, “Towards a Theology of the Choir.” Return to the Believe, Celebrate, Live main page
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