THE MASS AND THE MOST HOLY EUCHARIST

Jesus, the Word of God (John 1:1) opened his mouth and spoke to us. He uttered the most Holy Eucharist. The most Holy Eucharist eloquently tells us about the love of God, prodigious in size, inclusive in scope and forever in duration. "Man shall not live by bread alone but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God" (Matthew 4:4).

At Mass, Jesus plants the seed of love into our stony hearts to depetrify them. Jesus does his work at Mass.

The most Holy Eucharist at Mass is the place where the love of God steamrolls us.

The Catholic Mass

Jesus is present at Mass because he has something to tell us. What does he say? How does he say it? At Mass, Jesus delivers a message to us, not in the homily of the priest, but in the Most Holy Eucharist. The message is so important that he delivers it himself as he delivered it to us originally from the Cross at and about Calvary. It is the same message over and over and over again. He pounds it against us. He confronts us with it. He challenges us to come to grips with it. Unfortunately, many Catholics get stuck on the presence of Jesus at Mass and miss his message. The presence of Jesus interferes with the message of Jesus. Presence eclipses message. The Mass, however, is not about the presence of God. The Mass is about the message of God. The presence of God is incidental to the message of God. The presence of God is not the Good News of Great Joy. The message of God is the Good News of Great Joy. Unstick yourself! Take the next step! Go beyond the presence of Jesus to the message of Jesus. Start asking yourselves, 'Why is Jesus present at Mass? What is his message? How does he deliver it?

The sledgehammer that Jesus pounds against us at Mass over and over and over again is the love of God, prodigious in size, inclusive in scope, and forever in duration. The message never changes. Jesus confronts us with it. He challenges us to come to grips with it.

We took from Jesus his flesh and blood even though his flesh and blood belonged to him not to us. Jesus, however, did not give to us what we took. To give us what we took would make us guilty and him the occasion of our guilt. So Jesus made a substitution - a propitious substitution. He substituted bread and wine for flesh and blood. We became his dinner companions at his victory party. Bread and wine made the abstract concept of forgiveness concrete. Jesus served his enemies who stiil had his blood on their hands a meal. Welcome! Eat! Drink! All is forgiven! "That ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven: for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust" (Matthew 5:45)

At Mass, we re-enact the the battle of the Crucifixion. A priest puts us in the middle of the combat that is taking place on the battlefield. During the reenactment, live ammunition is used. We find ourselves in the scrum at the line of scrimmage with Jesus, with the evil that we did to him, with his answer to it, and with the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that we draw from the battle. A priest, the Master of Ceremonies, invites Jesus to celebrate his victory with us by reinacting his victory with us. The rabble and its ringleader take from Jesus his flesh and blood. Jesus, however, doesn’t give us what we take. Jesus makes the substitution that he announced at the Last Supper. In the place of the flesh and blood of his sacrifice, Jesus substitutes the bread and wine of his forgiveness. The 'taking' and the 'giving' are two sides of the same coin. One coin; two distinctly different sides.

A BAD SALES FORCE RUINS A GOOD PRODUCT

The product and its sales force are inextricably intertwined. When the sales force is rotten, it is not unreasonable for existing and potential customers to conclude that the product being offered for sale is rotten as well. This is so regardless of the unassailable virtue of the manufacturer of the product and especially when the competition has cleaner hands. A bad sales force ruins a good product.

The Problem, God Faced, was Logistics

But, God faced a problem. The problem was logistics. The knowledge that saves us from destruction (Hosea 4:6) - the truth that sets us free (John 8:32) - was released into the hostile desert of godlessness in the boondocks of time and space - in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3). For it to have any impact, it needed to be propagated from its obscure place of birth then and there, across history and geography, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. It needed to be distributed. However, the mission of filling the earth with the knowledge that God loves us as the waters cover the sea (Isaiah 11:9)(Habakkuk 2:14) is easier said than done. It cannot be completed just with words. Words will not do it. Only love begets love.

Jesus created the vehicle of propagation. The vehicle that Jesus created is the Mass. Moreover, he established a Church to operate the vehicle - to bring the knowledge of God to every nook and cranny of the Valley of Tears.

God put the leadership of the army that he recruited, trained and equipped in charge of logistics. Their job is limited to furnishing the wedding feast with guests - both saints and sinners - both the good and the bad (Matthew 22:8-10). Leadership are the ushers who show the children of Adam and Eve to our seats so God can put on the show. Jesus is the star of the show. Our salvation goes off the rails when the ushers think that they are the stars of the show - when they arrogate to themselves the role of God and fail to do the job that God assigned them. The job of the Church is to transform settlers into pilgrims. The job of God is to transform sinners into saints. We do not transform ourselves. The Church does not transform us. Only God does and he does so when the children of Adam and Eve are put into intimate contact with the prodigious love of God. Christianity, when done right, confronts and challenges us in the same way as Jesus did. It confronts us with the prodigious love of God. It challenges us to come to grips with it. The Mass is the locus of the confrontation. The Mass is the epicenter of the challenge. The Mass is the place where the prodigious love of God steamrolls us. "… Put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, And see if I do not open the floodgates of heaven for you, and pour down upon you blessing without measure!" (Malachi 3:10)

 

The Problem with the Leadership of the Church Today

Leadership of the army that Jesus recruited, trained and equipped does not understand the vehicle that Jesus gave them to propagate the Good News of Great Joy from the point and place of its obscure origin in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3) in the boondocks of time and space, across history and geography, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. The Mass is advanced, alien technology that recapitulates in real time the evil that we did to Jesus, his answer to the evil that we did to him, and the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that is drawn from our evil and his answer to it. Leadership does not understand the vehicle, does not understand how to operate it, does not understand what it tells us about the nature of God and, hence, leadership no longer delivers the Good News of Great Joy to the children of Adam and Eve.

 

The Relationship between the Mass and the “Dance” of the Crucifixion

A One-To-One Correspondence

A one-to-one correspondence exists between the elements of the “dance” of the Crucifixion and the elements of the Mass.

During the “dance” of the Crucifixion an apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God was released into the hostile desert of godlessness. Jesus showed us the sweetness of paradise. He disclosed the nature of God to us to neutralize the serpent’s anti-God propaganda. The serpent’s anti-God propaganda was distorting our perception of reality. The distortion was strangling our pursuit of God. So Jesus shattered the serpent’s pernicious illusions with the sledgehammer of truth. Jesus put us into intimate contact with the nature of God. Intimate contact with the truth about the nature of God is one of the two engines that drives the pursuit of God. [The other engine, by the way, is our baptism in the dunghill of evil. Rational creatures flee the sourness of godlessness and pursue the sweetness of paradise. God employs both the carrot and the stick. The greater is the effectiveness of the carrot, the less the stick is needed to drive us to our salvation.]

The Mass is advanced alien technology. It is the vehicle that God designed and built to carry the apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God from the point and place of its obscure origin in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3) in the boondocks of time and space, across history and geography, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. It does so by means of reenactment. The Mass is a reenactment of the “dance” of the Crucifixion. A priest puts us in the middle of the “dance”. We find ourselves in the middle of the “dance” with Jesus, with the evil that we did to him, with his answer to it, and with the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that we draw from the “dance”. The rabble and its ringleader take from Jesus his flesh and blood. Jesus, however, doesn’t give us what we take. Jesus makes the substitution that he announced at the Last Supper. In the place of the flesh and blood of his sacrifice, Jesus substitutes the bread and wine of his forgiveness. He turns his sacrifice into a banquet. He turns his vile and insolent murderers into his treasured and beloved dinner companions. Who else but our loving God does this? Who is so radically prodigal with his prodigious love? Who is our loving God’s peer? The 'taking' and the 'giving' are two sides of the same coin. One coin; two distinctly different sides.

The evil that we did to Jesus and his asymmetric answer to it are the odd couple of epiphany. Jesus submitted himself to this divinely choreographed dance in the “ballroom” of the Crucifixion to reveal the nature of God to us. In the “ballroom” of the Crucifixion, we witness God done not God said.

At Mass, we re-enact the the battle of the Crucifixion. A priest puts us in the middle of the combat that is taking place on the battlefield. During the reenactment, live ammunition is used. We find ourselves in the scrum at the line of scrimmage with Jesus, with the evil that we did to him, with his answer to it, and with the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that we draw from the battle. A priest, the Master of Ceremonies, invites Jesus to celebrate his victory with us by reinacting his victory with us. The rabble and its ringleader take from Jesus his flesh and blood. Jesus, however, doesn’t give us what we take. Jesus makes the substitution that he announced at the Last Supper. In the place of the flesh and blood of his sacrifice, Jesus substitutes the bread and wine of his forgiveness. The 'taking' and the 'giving' are two sides of the same coin. One coin; two distinctly different sides.

The Temerity to Presume that We are Worthy to Receive the Gift of Forgiveness or to Think that We Don’t Need It

The gift of forgiveness (Jeremiah 31:31-34) (Luke 23:34) that Jesus purchased for us by spending his flesh and blood during the battle of the Crucifixion is designed by God to be effective medicine for sinners (Matthew 9:10-12). Beware the miserly Christians who desire to ration the bread and wine of forgiveness according to their own petty, parsimonious scheme. Beware the clerics who do not deal with sinners as Jesus dealt with sinners (Matthew 9:10-12). The supply of the gift of forgiveness (Jeremiah 31:31-34) (Luke 23:34) is not short. There is no scarcity. The supply exceeds demand - always. There is no need to ration it. It is the demand that is problematic. Our attention needs to be focused on amplifying the demand. At Mass, we only receive the gift of forgiveness (Jeremiah 31:31-34) (Luke 23:34) unworthily (1 Corinthians 11:27-29), when we have the temerity to presume that we are worthy to receive it - that we have a ‘right’ to it or when we think that we do not need it. "Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldest come under my roof: but speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed" (Matthew 8:8-10).

Indifference to the significance of the gift of forgiveness makes us unworthy of it.

Deprecating His Presence; Promoting His Story

Which is more important to our salvation? The presence of God or the nature of God? A SINGER IS KNOWN BY HIS SONG, AN ARTIST IS KNOWN BY HIS ART, A TREE IS KNOWN BY ITS FRUIT(Luke 6:43-45) AND THE STORYTELLER BY HIS STORY (NOT HIS PRESENCE). There is more to the most Holy Eucharist than the mere presence of God - much more. We go to a concert to hear a singer sing or a band play not just to see them standing mute on a stage. The real presence is silent. Jesus, however, was not silent. On the contrary, Jesus spoke loudly and unambiguously to the children of Adam and Eve. His enemies took from Jesus his flesh and blood even though his flesh and blood did not belong to them. Jesus himself served his enemies the bread and wine of forgiveness even though his enemies did not deserve forgiveness. This is the audacity of God. He did not wait for our conversion to forgive us. He forgave us to bring about our conversion. The audacity of God is recapitulated at Mass. Our clerics, however, separate the story of God from the storyteller, ignore it, and instead emphasize the presence of God. In this way, they cut God's tongue out of his mouth. They make God mute. The presence of the storyteller does not communicate anything to us. Only the story of the storyteller communicates to us. A word to the wise is sufficient.

N.B. Osmosis does not work. Close proximity to the real presence of God does not transfer the knowledge of God to us. To transfer the knowledge of God to us, the story of God that Jesus deposited into the events that took place on the battlefield of the Crucifixion needs to be told. Why settle for a suntan when we can hear the sun speaking to us in its own voice with its own words? INDEED, HIS PRESENCE IS REAL. HOWEVER, THE PRESENCE OF THE STORYTELLER IS ONLY INCIDENTAL TO HIS STORY. Tell his story. Never stop telling his story. His story upgrades our understanding of the nature of God. His story illuminates the darkness of our understanding of the nature of God in a glorious burst of epiphany. ALLOWING THE CONVERSATION ABOUT THE NATURE OF GOD TO GO SILENT POSES AN EXISTENTIAL THREAT TO CHRISTIANITY. An ongoing, continuing conversation about the nature of God is the lifeblood of Christianity. Without an ongoing, continuing conversation about the nature of God, Christianity is dead. Fetch a priest to give it the Last Rites (or, perhaps, if miracles do happen, to revive it?)

See, The Conversation about God is Dead!

 

The Question is not what the Church tells us about the Presence of God. The Question is, ‘What does the Mass tell Us about the Nature of God’?

We are so bogged down in the presence of God - real versus symbol - that we have forgotten that the Mass is the vehicle that Jesus designed and built to convey to us a high fidelity, first class understanding of the nature of God. The Mass conveys Jesus’ revelation about the nature of God from the obscure, original point and place of its publication in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3) in the boondocks of history, across history and geography, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. The Mass is advanced, alien technology that recapitulates in real time the evil that we did to Jesus, his answer to the evil that we did to him, and the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that is drawn from our evil and his answer to it. At Mass, Jesus himself (real presence) transubstantiates his flesh and blood into our food and drink in order to transform us, the rabble and its ringleader, from vile and insolent murderers into treasured and beloved dinner companions. The philosopher's stone that magically transmutes his body and blood into our food and drink is the miracle of forgiveness. The rabble and its ringleaders took from Jesus his flesh and blood even though his flesh and blood did not belong to us. Jesus forgave us (Luke 23:34) even though we did not deserve forgiveness. AT MASS, HIS SACRIFICE IS TURNED INTO A BANQUET THROUGH HIS GRATUITOUS GIFT OF UNCONDITIONAL FORGIVENESS. Wow! In the furnace of his own affliction (Isaiah 48:10), Jesus forged the bread and wine of forgiveness from the raw materials of his flesh and blood. The dynamic transformation of the sacrifice of his flesh and blood into the bread and wine of forgiveness is the tangible expression of the prodigious love of God (symbol). Jesus supplied food and drink to satisfy the hunger and thirst of his enemies who, moments ago, had tortured and killed him. The greater was the evil that we did to him, the greater is our astonishment at the radical prodigality of the prodigious love of God. Jesus did not just love us. Jesus loved us even though we tortured and killed him. The prodigious love of God is the knockout punch. It gobsmacks us. It knocks us off our horse (Acts 9:4). It rattles our cage. It hits us like a ton of bricks. It takes our breath away. It is the strongest force on earth. The prodigious love of God gives Christianity its magic, Jesus his charisma, us, our joy and clerics, who exclusively devote themselves to it, the power to change the world. Who is the equal of our God? Who is his peer? Who else puts us in intimate contact with the truth? “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” (John 8:32). The truth is the sledgehammer that shatters the illusions that distort our perception of reality as the blow of a hammer shatters a pane of glass. The sweet truth is the prodigious love of God. Jesus confronts us with the prodigious love of God. He challenges us to come to grips with it. Christianity, when done right, confronts and challenges us in the same way as Jesus did. It confronts us with the prodigious love of God. It challenges us to come to grips with it. The Mass is the locus of the confrontation. The Mass is the epicenter of the challenge. The Mass is the place where the prodigious love of God steamrolls us. "… Put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, And see if I do not open the floodgates of heaven for you, and pour down upon you blessing without measure!" (Malachi 3:10)

 

ARE THE MASS AND EUCHARISTIC ADORATION EQUAL?

Are the Mass and Eucharistic Adoration equal? Both feature the real presence of God. Is there a difference?

Movement. The difference is movement. At Mass, there is movement. At Eucharistic Adoration, there is no movement. The movement is over. It is in the past. At Mass, the movement is alive. At Eucharistic Adoration, the movement is dead.

What moves?

The movement is from the flesh and blood of sacrifice to the bread and wine of forgiveness. We take from Jesus his flesh and blood even though his flesh and blood do not belong to us. Jesus, however, does not give us what we take. He makes a substitution. He gives bread and wine instead of flesh and blood. He gives us the bread and wine of forgiveness.

The dynamic transformation of the sacrifice of his flesh and blood into the bread and wine of forgiveness is the tangible expression of the love of God - prodigious in size, inclusive in scope and forever in duration. No. Jesus does not just love us. Jesus loves us even though we tortured and killed him! Wow! Now, that’s love!

The dynamic transformation, however, only takes place at Mass. At Eucharistic Adoration, the dynamic transformation is already done. It doesn’t take place. Jesus is present but the dynamic transformation is in the past. For this reason, the Mass is superior to Eucharistic Adoration - by vast magnitudes. Both the Mass and Eucharistic Adoration present the presence of God to the children of Adam and Eve. Only the Mass, however, actively - in real time - presents the dynamic transformation. In this sense, compared to the Mass, Eucharistic Adoration is stale - days old toast.

The dynamic transformation that Jesus announced at the Last Supper and we put to the test at and about Calvary revealed to us the nature of God. The dynamic transformation illuminates the darkness of our understanding of God in a glorious burst of epiphany. The static presence of God does not. Jesus packed his presence into both the Mass and Eucharistic Adoration. However, he packed more meaning into the Mass than his mere presence. The movement of the Holy Spirit in the Mass from flesh and blood to bread and wine is the treasure of Christianity. It makes the most Holy Eucharist 'the source and summit of the Christian life' (CCC 1324).

Without movement, the nature of God stays hidden from us.

 

THE DIRECTION OF FLESH, BLOOD, BREAD AND WINE

Is the Mass a Seance or a Classroom?

Flesh, blood, bread and wine have the property of direction. They flowed in the river of time, not randomly, but in a definitive order. Their sequence was divinely ordained. Did the current of events that carried Jesus' apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God go from left to right or from right to left - from north to south or from south to north? Did the current of events go from bread and wine to flesh and blood or did it go from flesh and blood to bread and wine? As the current of events flowed during Jesus’ life on earth so should they flow at Mass during a recapitulation of it, no? First, we took from Jesus his flesh and blood. Next, he forgave us. The taking preceded the giving. The sacrifice of his flesh and blood preceded the giving of the bread and wine of forgiveness. It wouldn’t make any sense otherwise. His asymmetric answer to the evil that we did to him comes after the evil that we did to him - not before.

What is the dynamic transformation that takes place at Mass? Jesus transforms the flesh and blood of sacrifice into the bread and wine of forgiveness. He transforms his vile and insolent murderers into treasured and beloved dinner companions - a sacrifice into a banquet. The rabble and its ringleaders took from Jesus his flesh and blood even though his flesh and blood did not belong to us. Jesus forgave us (Luke 23:34) even though we did not deserve forgiveness. In the furnace of his own affliction (Isaiah 48:10), from the raw materials of his flesh and blood, Jesus confected the bread and wine of forgiveness. The dynamic transformation of the sacrifice of his flesh and blood into the bread and wine of forgiveness is the tangible expression of the love of God, prodigious in size, inclusive in scope and forever in duration. It demonstrates the love of God. Jesus supplied food and drink to satisfy the hunger and thirst of his enemies who, moments ago, had tortured and killed him. Who does this? The greater was the evil that we did to him, the greater is our astonishment at the radical prodigality of the love of God. Jesus included his torturers and his murderers in the scope of his love. He did not exclude them. Isn’t that radical? Jesus spent all of his limited human resources to purchase for us the gift of forgiveness. He kept not a penny in the bank for himself. Isn’t the exorbitant size of his payment radical? Not even the evil that we did to him could extinguish the bonfire of love that burns for us in his most Sacred Heart or reduce its intensity by even the slightest degree. Isn’t the intransigence - the tenacity - of his love for us radical? God does not just love us. God loves us even though we tortured and killed him. Wow! That’s love!

The main stream that dynamically flows during the course of a Mass is not the current from the absence of God to his presence. This is a minor current, incidental and subsidiary to the main stream of the Mass. The Mass would be a little thing if its purpose was simply to conjure up the presence of God through the recital of mysterious incantations as a medium conjures up a ghost at a seance. The Mass, however, is not a little thing. The main stream that dynamically flows during the course of a Mass is the recapitulation of the nature of God as Jesus revealed it by his asymmetric answer to the evil that we did to him. The evil that we did to Jesus and his answer to it are the odd couple of epiphany. They illuminate the darkness of our understanding of God in a glorious burst of epiphany. The starting point is a mysterious God whose nature is hidden from us in an enigmatic black box. The middle point is the sacrifice of his flesh and blood. The ending point is the glorious epiphany of the love of God demonstrated to us by the prodigality of forgiveness. Forgiveness is made tangible by the banquet - by the supplying of food and drink to his enemies - by celebrating his victory with those who tried, but failed, to defeat him. Jesus published the nature of God in the Valley of Tears by doing battle with the monster of the Crucifixion. The monster of the Crucifixion tried to poke a hole in his most Sacred Heart to empty it of God’s love for us. The monster failed. Its failure was utter, abject and total. From the scabbard of his prodigious love for us, Jesus drew the sharp sword of sweet forgiveness to slay the monster of the Crucifixion. Forgiveness killed the monster dead (Jeremiah 31:31-34) (Luke 23:34) (Acts 10:43) (Matthew 6:12) (Matthew 18:21-35 (Luke 7:47) (Matthew 5:45). The Mass is the vehicle that God designed and built to carry the publication of the nature of God from the point and place of its obscure origin in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3) in the boondocks of space and time, across geography and history, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. The Mass does not just carry Jesus’s presence. The Mass carries Jesus’ apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God. The apocalyptic revelation of the nature of God, not the arrival of Jesus’ ghostly presence, is the acme of the Mass. The Mass is not a seance that just conjures up the ghostly presence of God. The priest is not a medium. The Mass is a classroom that teaches us the nature of God. Jesus himself is the teacher. “It is written in the prophets, And they shall be all taught of God. Every man therefore that hath heard, and hath learned of the Father, cometh unto me” (John 6:45).

Note: When we try to proceed from bread and wine and go in the direction of flesh and blood, we go the wrong way down a one way street. We get lost. We get disoriented. What went on during combat on the battlefield of the Crucifixion no longer makes any sense. Forgiveness follows - it does not precede - the sacrifice of his flesh and blood. Banquet succeeds sacrifice. Forgiveness is the jewel that emerges from the dunghill of evil. The light shines from the darkness, not the darkness from the light.

 

The Relationship between the Mass and the “Dance” of the Crucifixion

A One-To-One Correspondence

A one-to-one correspondence exists between the elements of the “dance” of the Crucifixion and the elements of the Mass.

During the “dance” of the Crucifixion an apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God was released into the hostile desert of godlessness. Jesus showed us the sweetness of paradise. He disclosed the nature of God to us to neutralize the serpent’s anti-God propaganda. The serpent’s anti-God propaganda was distorting our perception of reality. The distortion was strangling our pursuit of God. So Jesus shattered the serpent’s pernicious illusions with the sledgehammer of truth. Jesus put us into intimate contact with the nature of God. Intimate contact with the truth about the nature of God is one of the two engines that drives the pursuit of God. [The other engine, by the way, is our baptism in the dunghill of evil. Rational creatures flee the sourness of godlessness and pursue the sweetness of paradise. God employs both the carrot and the stick. The greater is the effectiveness of the carrot, the less the stick is needed to drive us to our salvation.]

The Mass is advanced alien technology. It is the vehicle that God designed and built to carry the apocalyptic revelation about the nature of God from the point and place of its obscure origin in the backside of the desert (Exodus 3:1-3) in the boondocks of time and space, across history and geography, to the children of Adam and Eve here and now. It does so by means of reenactment. The Mass is a reenactment of the “dance” of the Crucifixion. A priest puts us in the middle of the “dance”. We find ourselves in the middle of the “dance” with Jesus, with the evil that we did to him, with his answer to it, and with the ineluctable inference about the nature of God that we draw from the “dance”. The rabble and its ringleader take from Jesus his flesh and blood. Jesus, however, doesn’t give us what we take. Jesus makes the substitution that he announced at the Last Supper. In the place of the flesh and blood of his sacrifice, Jesus substitutes the bread and wine of his forgiveness. He turns his sacrifice into a banquet. He turns his vile and insolent murderers into his treasured and beloved dinner companions. Who else but our loving God does this? Who is so radically prodigal with his prodigious love? Who is our loving God’s peer? The 'taking' and the 'giving' are two sides of the same coin. One coin; two distinctly different sides.

The evil that we did to Jesus and his asymmetric answer to it are the odd couple of epiphany. Jesus submitted himself to this divinely choreographed dance in the “ballroom” of the Crucifixion to reveal the nature of God to us. In the “ballroom” of the Crucifixion, we witness God done not God said.

 

RADICAL METAMORPHOSES

Don’t go the wrong way down a one-way street

Did the Word of God (John 1:1) dragoon into his service a familiar rhetorical ‘structure’ to convey to us a high fidelity, first-class understanding of the nature of God? Yes, He did. The structure that Jesus exploited to translate the nature of God to us into terms that we understand was the dynamic transformation of A into B where the relationship between A and B is characterized by asymmetry - radical lopsidedness - a huge potential difference. The rhetorical ‘structure’ that Jesus used is so common in our world that we can give it its own local habitation and a name. Let us call it radical metamorphoses.

Jesus borrowed the underlying rhetorical “structure” of the following examples:

  • From the alchemist, the dynamic transformation of dross into gold.

  • From the magician, the dynamic transformation of an eyelash into an elephant.

  • From the Doctor, the dynamic transformation of the sick into the healthy.

  • From the enologist, the dynamic transformation of water into wine.

  • From the electrician, the dynamic transformation of darkness into light.

  • From the alarm clock, the dynamic transformation from sleeping to waking.

  • From the Frankenstein, the dynamic transformation of the dead into the living.

  • From the scholar, the dynamic transformation of ignorance into knowledge.

The foundation of all of these examples is the rhetorical structure that Jesus, too, used. Radical metamorphoses mesmerizes us.

To convey the nature of God to us, Jesus dynamically transformed

  1. flesh and blood into bread and wine

  2. a sacrifice into a banquet

  3. vile and insolent murderers into treasured and beloved dinner companions.

The dynamic transformations of Jesus bless us with tangible expression of the love of God, prodigious in size, inclusive in scope, and forever in duration. No. God did not just love us. God loved us even though we tortured and killed him! The transformation shows us the benign, benevolent and beneficent nature of God. The transformation discloses God to us. The dynamic transformation of one asymmetric object into its polar opposite gobsmacks us. It knocks off our socks and us off our horse as well (Acts 9:4).

The dynamic transformation is recapitulated whenever a priest invites Jesus to a Mass where we re-enact the events that unfolded on the battlefield of the Crucifixion. The rabble and its ringleader take from Jesus his flesh and blood. Jesus, however, doesn’t give us what we take. Jesus makes a substitution. In the place of the flesh and blood of his sacrifice, Jesus serves us the bread and wine of his forgiveness. Jesus himself serves his unworthy enemies who still have his blood on their hands a banquet of food and drink to celebrate his victory. His enemies tried, but failed, to poke a hole in his most Sacred Heart to drain it of every drop of its love for us. His most Sacred Heart stayed filled to the brim with his love for us. Jesus declined evil’s offer of a demotion from the level of our loving God to the level of the loveless beasts who scavenge for scraps in cutthroat competition with the other loveless beasts among the ruins of Eden.

Who does this? Who includes not just his friends within the scope of his love but his enemies with his blood still on their hands as well? Who doesn’t include the sheep and exclude the goats (Matthew 25:31-33)? Who is this God who still loves us even though we tortured and killed him? Wow! That’s love! Behold with your own eyes the radical prodigality of our God’s love for us!

The radical asymmetry - potential difference - between the sacrifice and the banquet made the dynamic transformation flamboyant apocalyptic and powerful. The transformation wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t gradual or incremental. It was a matter of kind not degree. The huge potential difference between a sacrifice and a banquet, between vile and insolent murderers and treasured and beloved dinner companions - between the flesh and blood of sacrifice and the bread of wine of forgiveness - creates the gravity that pulls us into centripetal orbit around Jesus.

P.S. Jesus painted a different picture of the nature of God than the picture that the Old Testament painted. There was a radical discontinuity in the paintings of God in the old covenant compared to the new.