The above functional notation is a mathematical illustration of how the infinite, simple unity of the Triune God (represented here as R^∞) projects itself outward to generate our finite, 4-dimensional physical manifold (represented here as M⁴).

In mathematics, R^∞ represents an infinite-dimensional space. In this theological analogy, it stands for the immanent Trinity — the internal, eternal operations of God. God’s mind contains the infinite intelligible structures of all possible things pre-eminently. Within God, there is an infinite, continuous, and dynamic “movement” or procession: the Father eternally generating the Son (the infinite Word), and the Father and Son eternally spirating the Holy Spirit (the infinite Breath of Love). This is a realm of absolute fullness, containing infinite degrees of freedom, unbounded by time, space, or entropy. It is the Ultimate Power Supply.

M⁴ is the 4-dimensional Minkowski spacetime manifold — the physical universe of three spatial dimensions and one time dimension. This is the material manifold. It is finite, composite, changing, and subject to the laws of thermodynamics. It is the “circuitry” that runs on the power of the Root.

f is the act of creation as an analogical projection. The function f is the crucial link. It represents the act of Creation (creatio ex nihilo). In mathematics, a function maps inputs to outputs according to a strict law, often compressing a higher-dimensional space into a lower-dimensional one without losing the relational logic between the points. When applied to the Trinity, the function f represents how the triune God projects an analogical reflection of his internal life outward into a physical reality.

The Father as the domain R^∞ is the unbegotten source, the ultimate reservoir of infinite potential and being. The Son is the function’s logic f. He is the Logos — the divine blueprint, the supreme Intellect, the “Compiler.” The function f operates according to the Wisdom of the Word. Creation is structured logically because it passes through the Son. The Holy Spirit as the Dynamic Vector → represents the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is the active, outward movement of the divine will, the “Power Supply” that actively projects and sustains the mapping in real-time, preventing the M⁴ manifold from collapsing back into nothingness.

Because M⁴ is an analogical projection f of the Trinity R^∞, the physical universe naturally bears a relational imprint. Just as the geometry of a shadow is determined by the shape of the object casting it, our 4D universe reflects its unified Triune Source.

Our universe is not a self-contained “brute fact” operating in a vacuum. It is a highly compressed, localized, 4-dimensional informational output. It is actively generated by a continuous mathematical1 function rooted in the infinite, multi-dimensional, uncreated interiority of the Triune God.

Thomas Aquinas did not have access to modern mathematical notation. He lived in the 13th century (1225–1274), a period when mathematics was almost entirely rhetorical—meaning it was written out completely in verbal, narrative sentences.

The symbols we use today as standard mathematical shorthand did not exist. To express equations, geometric proofs, or philosophical proportions, Aquinas had to rely entirely on precise, rigorous Latin prose.

If Aquinas wanted to express a mathematical concept, he faced massive notation limitations. The symbols used in the functional notation below were invented centuries after Aquinas died:

Other common symbols that were not yet invented include:

• The plus (+) and minus (−) signs: Invented in the late 1400s (over 200 years after Aquinas).

• The equals sign (=): Invented by Robert Recorde in 1557 (nearly 300 years after Aquinas) because he was tired of writing “is equal to” over and over.

• Variable notations (like (x, y, f): Popularized by René Descartes in 1637 (nearly 400 years after Aquinas).

• Functions and arrow notation developed in the 1800s and 1900s with modern set theory.

Instead of using variables, exponents, or symbols, medieval scholastics wrote math like a legal brief or a philosophy essay. For example, if a modern mathematician writes:

A : B = C : D

Aquinas would have to write out the Latin equivalent of:

“The proportion of the first magnitude to the second magnitude is found to be identical to the proportion of the third magnitude to the fourth magnitude...”

Even numbers themselves were handled differently. While Roman numerals (I, V, X, L) were still dominant in European administration during his life, the Hindu-Arabic numeral system (1, 2, 3, 4) was only just starting to be adopted by European scholars following Fibonacci’s work in 1202.

Despite having no symbols, Aquinas and his contemporaries were not mathematically illiterate. They were deeply trained in Euclidian geometry and the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy).

Because they lacked algebraic notation, they visualized mathematical relationships spatially and proportionally. Instead of solving an algebraic equation with numbers, they would prove a concept by describing how lines, planes, and ratios intersected.

This makes the precision of Aquinas’s writing even more staggering. He had to build airtight, highly logical systems — like the massive and algorithmic Summa Theologiae — using only words. He had to be incredibly disciplined with his vocabulary because a single ambiguous Latin word could ruin an entire logical chain.

When modern scholars use notations to describe Thomistic theology, they are essentially translating pages of dense, 13th-century Latin prose into a single line of modern mathematical shorthand. Aquinas was doing the exact same logic; he just had to write it out longhand in the alphabet of his mind. Sound difficult?

Thomas pioneered the 13th-century equivalent of parallel processing: he regularly employed up to four scribes simultaneously.

Thomas would pace around his monastic cell, dictating four distinct works at once—moving seamlessly from a commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, to a section of the Summa, to a scriptural exposition, to a canonical dispute. He would give a sentence to Scribe A, turn to Scribe B with the next line of a completely different treatise, move to Scribe C, and then Scribe D—keeping four distinct logical architectures fully active in his mind without dropping a thread. The result was the Summa, arguably the greatest, most intricate algorithmic structure ever conceived and executed by a single human mind. Yet this was no mere automated data processing. At the very same time, this text-compiler mind was operating on a frequency of pure mystical contemplation, composing the heart-rending poetry of the Pange Lingua. In Thomas, the systematic rigor of the compiler and the ecstatic fire of the mystic were unified, proving that the deepest architectures of truth can only be fully mapped by a mind consumed by love. Just as our 4D universe is a compressed, analogical projection of the infinite Trinity, the Summa was the compressed, algorithmic expression of Thomas’s own boundless mystical contemplation.

After communion, during the ablutions, the priest washes his fingers with wine and water over the chalice. He then drinks its contents out of reverence for every particle of the Eucharist. Novus Ordo Eucharistic ministers return the chalices and ciboria to the altar and walk away. They do not perform any ablution either before or after touching the sacred species, which is the glorified body and blood of God. They simply return to the congregation and go about their business, touching whatever they touch in the course of their day. Canon law and common sense dictate that pouring the sacred species down a drain into a sewer should be strictly forbidden.1 If an accident occurs and the sacred species cannot be swallowed, the remnants must be disposed of properly in a sacrarium or directly into the earth. Hand washing at a lavatory sink with particles of the host on one's fingers is the same as washing our Lord into a sewer. The situation is no different when a communicant receives in the hand, leaves the church, and goes about his business. Allowing this kind of gross irreverence has not only offended God deeply, but has inevitably contributed to the massive decrease in belief in the Real Presence. This is just what Cranmer anticipated five centuries ago when he instituted these same practices.2

The Missal is then returned to the Epistle side of the altar, completing the circle begun at the start of the Mass. This movement mystically represents Christ’s passage from His Passion in the earthly Jerusalem to eternal life in the heavenly Jerusalem following His Resurrection. Liturgical commentators also see this final transition as a symbol of the prophecy in the Apocalypse: the conversion of the Jews at the end of time, when “an hundred and forty-four thousand were sealed, of all the tribes of the children of Israel” (Apocalypse 7:4).

Or as St. Paul writes,

For I do not desire, brethren, that you should be ignorant of this mystery, lest you should be wise in your own opinion, that blindness in part has happened to Israel until the fullness of the Gentiles has come in. And so all Israel will be saved…” (Romans 11: 25-26).

There are those who interpret these passages to mean that there will be a complete or wholesale conversion of the Jews. Though we can hope and pray, such a view is warranted neither by logic nor by the texts. We know that individuals possess free will, and therefore no entire group can be uniformly “saved.” In principle, however, the Sacrifice is complete; every human being has been redeemed, should they choose to accept it. Paul gives us the key when he says, “For if the first fruit is holy, the lump is also holy, and if the root is holy, so are the branches” (Romans 11:16). At His Resurrection on the Feast of the First Fruits in the Jewish calendar—known as Easter Sunday to Christians—Jesus accomplished our redemption. Because He is a Jew, the Jewish nation is structurally rooted in this source of grace. Jesus has entered into the throne room of the Father; therefore, one can say that “humanity” is saved. However, that does not mean all of humanity, or all of any particular ethnic group, will enter into that throne room. Jesus could not be clearer about the reality of hell.

What the moving of the missal from one side of the altar to the other does at the end of the Mass is close the circle. Yahweh made a promise to deliver the Jews through a Messiah, and he did. Along the way, he was rejected by the majority of the Jewish nation, and his message was offered to the Gentiles, many of whom accepted him. However, as Jesus says to the Samaritan woman, “Salvation is of the Jews” (John 4:22), indicating the special place they hold in salvation history as the nation from which the Redeemer would be born. St. Paul also writes:

Because of unbelief they were broken off, and you stand by faith. Do not be haughty, but fear. For if God did not spare the natural branches He may not spare you either. Therefore, consider the goodness and severity of God: on those who fell, severity; but toward you goodness. Otherwise you also will be cut off. And they also, if they do not continue in unbelief, will be grafted in, for God is able to graft them in again (Romans 11: 19-23).

By “natural branches,” Paul means Jesus’ blood relations, the Jews. If his own natural family was not spared, then we as his adopted family may not be spared either. However, there is always unlimited forgiveness for the repentant. God is a God of second chances and should anyone come to him before the final hour, they will be “grafted in” just as if they had been there from the beginning. No one is left behind, as long as they “do not continue in unbelief.”

The “Jewishness” of the Mass is obvious in all allusions to Old Testament practices, but it is also vivid, front and center. The subdeacon represents the “Old Testament Man”—not merely those who lived before the New Covenant, but the Jewish people who historically received the Old Covenant and cling to it to this day. The subdeacon stands with his face covered through the Canon, which is the re-presentation of the Passion. This position evokes the temple authorities, along with the faithful witnesses mentioned in scripture, who stood at the foot of the Cross observing the death of Jesus. The subdeacon’s face is not just covered by a humeral veil; he also holds the paten, representing the people of Israel who lived before the full revelation of Christ. This action mirrors the cherubim and seraphim covering their faces before the Divine Presence in sacred scripture. Finally, shrouding the paten symbolizes Christ’s hidden divinity during his Passion and under the physical appearances of bread and wine.

The subdeacon finally lowers the paten and returns it to the deacon at the words “et dimitte nobis” (“and forgive us”) during the Our Father, which signifies humanity being made worthy to look upon God through forgiveness. Traditional liturgical commentary notes that the paten represents the chosen people of Israel. The host is physically separated from the paten after the Offertory—when the subdeacon takes it away—to symbolize how the Jewish nation historically rejected Christ. The host is finally reunited with the paten right before Communion, during the Pater Noster, representing the prophecy that Israel will ultimately recognize and return to Christ at the end of time.

After completing the ablutions, the priest returns to the middle of the altar, kisses it, turns and again says, “The Lord be with you,” just as Jesus did in the Upper Room after the Resurrection. He turns back to the altar, bows and quietly prays, “May the homage of my bounden duty be pleasing to thee, O holy Trinity, and grant that the sacrifice which I, though unworthy, have offered in the sight of thy majesty may be acceptable to thee….”

Luke records that, at the moment of his Ascension, Jesus “lifted up his hands and blessed them” (Luke 24:50). Each Tamid sacrifice at the Jerusalem Temple concluded with the priests lifting up their hands and blessing the people, just as God directed Moses.

All the people of the land would shout for joy, praying to the Merciful One, as the high priest completed the service at the altar by presenting to God the fitting sacrifice. Then coming down he would raise his hands over all the congregation of Israel; the blessing of the Lord would be upon his lips, the name of the Lord would be his glory. The people would again fall down to receive the blessing of the Most High (Sirach 50:20–21).

The priest, positioned at the center of the altar, stands as if he is Christ on the summit of a holy mountain, such as the Mount of Olives in Bethany. He kisses Christ, represented by the altar, then turns and blesses the congregation, just as the glorified Jesus does at the Ascension. With our Lord now ascended from view, the priest transitions to the final acts of the rite. While the final blessing features a partial turn to preserve focus on the altar, it is at the Ite, Missa est and the Last Gospel where the full circle of the liturgy is finalized. At the dismissal, the priest rotates in a complete circle back to the altar. The opening of the portal to heaven at the Orate Fratres is now closed. This closing ritual symmetry signifies that our view into heaven is now veiled, the Sacrifice is complete, and Yahweh has accomplished the purpose for which he descended from heaven. He has returned to the Father whence he came, but he is bringing with him each of us who united ourselves to him through the Eucharist.

There may be another event alluded to here. In the Acts of the Apostles, the Ascension is described this way:

Now when he had spoken these things, while they watched, he was taken up, and a cloud received him out of their sight. And while they looked steadfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel, who also said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand gazing up into heaven? This same Jesus, who was taken up from you into heaven, will so come in like manner as you saw him go into heaven” (Acts 1:9–11).

The priest standing on the altar facing the people mirrors the manner in which Christ departed and will return. His return marks the end of time and the general judgment, where he will judge all creation. At this final division of history, the definitive dismissal is given.

The priest intones, “Ite, missa est” (go, you are dismissed), to which the assembly responds, “Deo gratias” (thanks be to God). This is a final act of thanksgiving for his sacrifice and for the journey to the Promised Land we have just experienced. However, “Ite, missa est” is also a command, mirroring the historical moments when Pharaoh ordered the chosen people to leave Egypt, or when Cyrus decreed their departure from Babylon.3 The liturgical journey of the Mass is over, but our personal journey to the heavenly Promised Land is not. The final blessing evokes Pentecost; as Jesus returns to heaven, he sends the Holy Spirit to guide us and the Church: “May almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

Since the overall structure of the Mass recapitulates the earthly life of Christ, it is fitting that the final movement of the liturgy evokes the Great Commission, where Jesus enjoins the disciples to “make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19). How are we to do that? By preaching the good news. The priest steps toward the Gospel side of the altar to read the Last Gospel, which is the Prologue of the Gospel according to John. This Gospel emphasizes that the Word was made flesh and “tabernacled” (σκηνόω or skenōo in Greek) among us, becoming the divine, dual-natured Light—a fitting final thought to consider as we have just assisted at the Eucharistic Sacrifice, received the Light through communion, and are now tabernacles of the enfleshed Word ourselves.

This Last Gospel is a brilliant summation of the purpose of the Mass we have just witnessed. The Logos, who is timelessly eternal—who was, is, and ever shall be—is the source of life and the maker of the world. He manifested himself to creation through the Incarnation, the divine, dual-natured Light, but “the darkness did not comprehend it.” The word translated as “darkness” in the Greek is σκοτία (skotia), which is also broadly used to describe the rejection of the divine and, therefore, the resultant darkness of hell. The word commonly translated as “comprehend” is καταλαμβάνω (katalambanō). More accurately, the word means to seize something, to possess it, or to make it one’s own. To comprehend an idea is to take possession of it, but John means something much deeper here. Clearly, no creation or creature can fully, intellectually comprehend God, and there is nothing unexpected about that. What John means is that the darkness—or hell—cannot apprehend or take possession of God, who is Light. Even more precisely, hell cannot defeat God. Because of this rebellion and struggle against God in order to replace him as gods ourselves, the Light came into the world, as witnessed and testified to by John the Baptist. To bear witness or testify to the Light is to recommend the Light and condemn its opposite, the darkness, which by its very nature is opposed to the Light. John instituted his baptism of repentance so that we could take the first step toward overcoming the darkness.

We begin this process in the extended penitential rites of the Latin Mass. “He came unto his own, and his own received him not.” We see this dynamic illustrated throughout the liturgy, beginning when the Word is proclaimed and the Missal is moved from the Jewish, or Epistle, side of the altar to the Gentile, or Gospel, side. The purpose of his coming into the world—the world “made by him”—was to give “power” to those “who received him” to “become the sons of God.” To be a son means to share the nature of the parent from whom one descends. We are humans because our parents are human, and from them we receive our human nature. To be a son of God is to descend from and receive his divine nature. John describes not just the events, but the ultimate purpose of these events.

The purpose of being the “sons of God” is deification. Recognizing the Light allows one to share by adoption in the nature of the Light and the Word that the Light manifests. John does not say that we ineluctably “become the sons of God.” Rather, he says we have “the power” to become the sons of God. In other words, there is a choice; that power can either be exercised or not. John makes this explicit when he says, “He gave power to become the sons of God, to them that believe in his name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.” It is not merely flesh bringing forth flesh, but God bringing forth sons who share his nature and his life.

Next, John writes the words at which humanity kneels: “And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us...” This occurs at the Mass during the Consecration, when Christ, through the action of the priest, transforms the bread and wine into his living body and blood. John continues: “…and we saw his glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth.” Christ entered his glory through his Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension to the Father—eternal realities re-presented in the Mass.

Every narrative has a beginning, middle, and end. Most are concluded by a summary. The conclusion of the Mass is the Prologue according to John, which completes the eternal loop of the liturgy until it is offered again. The structure of the traditional Mass is circular, unlike the linear, utilitarian structure of the Novus Ordo. It is fitting that the Mass ends with a beginning. Mirroring the eternal, infinite exchange of love between the Father and the Son from which the fire of the Holy Spirit proceeds, the Mass is perpetually re-presented from the beginning to the end, and to the beginning again. It is the one Sacrifice with which the Father is well-pleased, and of which he never tires.

During the Christmas season, this first chapter of John is replaced by the Gospel read on the feast of the Epiphany (Matthew 2:1–12). In this reading, the Christ child is adored by the Magi. Like them, the congregation kneels before the King—except we now kneel before him reclining (ἀνακλίνω or anaklinō) in the tabernacle, just as he once lay in the manger. This alternate Last Gospel narrative is, once again, a beginning: the birth of the Savior.

“This is my Son, in whom I am well pleased.” Receiving the Eucharist is not spiritually analogous to taking a medicine to treat a physical ailment. The spiritual and physical communion that occurs in the Eucharist is not meant to be an external “grace pill” that works regardless of our spiritual disposition. Rather, there is only one Sacrifice that the Father truly desires: the Tamid sacrifice of his Son. In order to participate in this New Covenant Tamid, we must be joined with the Son, both spiritually and physically. Unlike the scapegoat and other unworthy Old Testament offerings, we cannot offer the Sacrifice of the Son against his will or merely in our place. We must offer him along with ourselves in Eucharistic communion, our water mixed with his wine. We stand with Christ before the Father, showing him the Son’s wounds in atonement for our sins. It is the merit of the Son and the love between them that the Father sees. When we are in communion with the Son, the Father sees us together with him. In that shared offering, he finds us in whom he is well-pleased. That is why Jesus says with such clarity and urgency:

“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is food indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me and I in him” (John 6:54–56).

However great the spiritual consolations we derive from communion with Christ in this world, they are secondary to the merits that communion with Jesus gains for us within the Trinity. We gain no merit if we are not in complete spiritual and physical communion with him before the Father; as our Lord explicitly warned, we have no life in us apart from this Eucharistic reality. We cannot abide as one with a mere symbol. There is only one narrow way to the Father, and Christ’s flesh and blood is that way.

The re-presentation of the Mass is complete. The priest descends from the holy mountain of the altar where, like so many religious figures before him, he has encountered Yahweh. Unlike them, however, he did not encounter him merely in the wind, in the burning bush, or in a column of fire—but in the flesh and blood.

In the Domine Jesu Christe and Perceptio Corporis, the priest prays for grace and healing by the body and blood of Christ, saying,

“Deliver me by this Thy most holy Body and Blood from all my transgressions and from all evils; make me always adhere to Thy commandments and never suffer me to be from Thee” and “May it be unto me a safeguard and a healing remedy both of soul and body.”1 He also prays to “the living God” whose “death has given life to the world.”2Just as Peter recognized in Caesarea Philippi when Jesus made him “the rock” of his Church (Matthew 16:16-18), all other gods are dead and only the one living God can give life to the world but also redeem it.3

The priest, knowing what he is about to do, enters into the Holy of Holies, the very presence of God, just like the Old Covenant High Priest on the Feast of Atonement. Lest he be killed (at least spiritually) by entering unworthily, he heeds Paul’s warning (1 Corinthians 11:29) and prays,

Let not the partaking of Thy Body, O Lord Jesus Christ, which I, though unworthy, presume to receive, turn to my judgement and condemnation.^[3]

When he has recited the “Domine Non Sum Dignus” three times, the priest dares to consume the Sacrifice sealing our covenant, just as was done with the Old Testament sacrifices by burning and eating. Bells (again signifying trumpets) are rung to indicate that the Sacrifice is complete and the Way is indeed open, just as God marked this profound moment on Calvary by a rumbling and shaking of the earth.

Crucially, because Christ can die no more, this blessing flows not from a new execution, but from the sacramental immolation already achieved at the Consecration, where the separate elements mystically made present the separation of His Body and Blood on Calvary and reunited at the Fraction. At this moment, the priest humbly prays that the offering of Christ’s body gains everlasting life for himself,

May the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve my soul to life everlasting.

Because he has faith, the priest knows that the Sacrifice has indeed done exactly that and so he expresses his gratitude by quoting Psalm 115:3,

What shall I render to the Lord for all the things that he hath rendered to me?

The answer of course is to unite himself Eucharistically with Him and to offer the only sacrifice that the Father wants, so he quotes the next verse of the psalm,

“I will take up the cup of salvation and I will call upon the Lord.”

What about those of us who are assisting? As is often the case, when only a fragment of a psalm is spoken, the rest of it is implied. The next verse which is not explicitly quoted in the Canon reads,

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His holy ones” (Psalm 115:5). Let us hope and pray that we are counted among them. The psalm concludes by invoking the collective body of the faithful: “I shall pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all His people” (Psalm 115:8).

Following this fragment, the liturgy echoes Psalm 17: “Praising, I will call upon the Lord, and I shall be saved from my enemies” (Psalm 17:4). David penned this thanksgiving psalm in gratitude after Yahweh delivered him from the hand of Saul. In reality, our true enemies are Satan and death—adversaries we cannot defeat without Yahweh and the Sacrifice that redeems sin. The psalm later concludes, “Therefore I will give thanks to You among the Gentiles, O Lord” (Psalm 17:50). Once again, the Mass underscores a pivotal message from the Cross: the center of the salvation story has expanded from the Jews to the Gentiles—specifically to Rome, where the reluctant prophet Simon bar Jonah would become the Rock upon which Christ builds His Church.4

This architecture of salvation is embedded in the very mechanics of Communion. When the priest opens the tabernacle to bring forth a ciborium, the liturgy mystically mirrors the rending of the temple sanctuary curtain at the moment of Jesus’s death. To emphasize this, the tabernacle veil is intentionally crafted in two separate pieces. Though it appears as one solid cloth, it splits in two as the priest opens the left and right halves. The curtain is figuratively “rent” when the priest, acting in persona Christi, reaches inside. Through the work of the incarnate Son, the Holy of Holies and the way to the Father are cast wide open. At this low, shameful moment of crucifixion—with Peter having denied his Lord and the disciples scattered in fear—it is a Roman Gentile who stands as the first to be recorded making a direct, public statement of faith at the foot of the Cross:

And Jesus cried out with a loud voice, and breathed his last. Then, behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. So when the centurion who stood opposite Him saw that He cried out like this and breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God” (Mark 15:37-39).

This moment serves as the perfect historical bookend to Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan. At the Jordan, He received the baptism of repentance from John, initiating the path to perfect atonement; on the Cross, He completes that atoning sacrifice. Mark describes the baptism similarly:

And immediately coming up from the water, He saw the heavens parting and the Spirit descending upon Him like a dove (Mark 1:10).

The word translated as “torn” at the Crucifixion and “parting” at the baptism is the exact same Greek verb: schizo (σχίζω), meaning to cleave, rend, or split. By using different English words, modern translators obscure a breathtaking connection. Just like the stereoma (firmament) in the Old Covenant which was sapphire blue, the Jerusalem Temple veil was dyed blue—the same hue traditionally gracing the robe of the Virgin Mary. At the baptism, the cosmic sky where God dwells was rent, just as the fabric sky of the Temple curtain was rent at the Passion. The impenetrable stereoma behind which God hid in Exodus is finally pierced by Jesus, the New Joshua. Where Moses was forced to stop within sight of the Promised Land, this New Joshua successfully leads the chosen people all the way across.5

Furthermore, the two events mirror an evolution of faith. At the Jordan, only the Father’s voice could confirm the Son’s identity, speaking in the present tense (“I am well pleased”) to show heaven descending to meet earth. At the Cross, however, a Gentile centurion seeing through the darkness of abandonment proclaims that identity to the world. Crucially, the centurion speaks in the past tense (“was the Son of God”), signaling that Christ’s earthly mission is consummated, and He has departed to return to the Father, presenting His completed Sacrifice.

Technically, the Sacrifice of the Mass is complete, but the Church gives the laity, and not just the priest, an opportunity to unite themselves to Christ’s Sacrifice by receiving him in Communion, seal the Covenant, and offer themselves to the Father along with him. If the pre-1962 Latin Mass is being offered, the acolytes prostrate themselves before the altar and recite the Confiteor as they did at the beginning of the Mass—this time on behalf of the people, rather than themselves. In the revamped 1962 missal, Bugnini and others succeeded in suppressing this second recitation, labeling it a “needless repetition.” Of course, if one believes in the Real Presence and takes Paul’s admonition of eternal judgment seriously, an additional act of contrition on behalf of the people doesn't seem needless at all. Certainly, the sight of men on their knees, deeply bowed in humility, encourages us to assume the proper internal orientation to receive the glorified body of Christ the King and our Redeemer.

The priest turns to liturgical south. Again, if east represents the direction of the sun and the direction from which the risen Christ will come, and the cold north is the land of pagans and unbelief, then the south with its warmth and luxuriant vegetation is a type of Eden. For the blessing, he implores “almighty God to have mercy upon you,” but he isn’t facing the congregation.6 He is facing Eden whose only human inhabitants ever were Adam and Eve. In Genesis, in the Hebrew, it is Yahweh-Elohim, or the “Lord God,” who is speaking to Adam and Eve prior to the Fall. As we discussed earlier, this name for God is meant to describe the Trinity in its totality. Here in the Mass, the use of the name “almighty God” rather than just “God,” or an invocation of the name of a particular member of the Trinity is also meant to describe God in his majestic fullness. “Almighty God” is asked to bring “you” which can only be Adam and Eve if he is speaking toward Eden to the life everlasting that they have lost in the Fall. It is God almighty, Yahweh-Elohim, who resolves to do so through the action of the Second Person. The next prayer makes this explicit, “May the almighty and merciful Lord grant you pardon, absolution, and remission of your sins.”7 Lord is of course Kyrios, or Christ the Son through whom our sins are redeemed. It is Christ, through the “Tree of Life” or the Cross, who will bring Adam and Eve to the life everlasting that they have lost.

If a processional cross was used in the Mass, it is usually kept at the right side of the altar until it is needed again in the recess procession. As he says these words, the priest is not just facing Eden, but rather the Tree of Life in Eden. He touches three fingers (Trinity) to the altar (which is Christ) and makes a sign of the Cross with his arm sideways toward the acolytes and people, who are the descendants of Adam and Eve. By touching Christ and facing the fallen Paradise, the priest’s gestures emphasize that Christ has come to bless the fallen Paradise. The true Paradise and perfect communion with God are what we are excluded from by the Fall and our own personal sin. The allusion to Eden is very fitting at this point in the Mass, since Adam and Eve took shelter and hid among the branches of the Eucharistic Tree of Life in the Garden after the Fall, although they could not eat of it because they had sinned. Exactly because of the perfect redemptive Sacrifice that we have just witnessed, the descendants of Adam and Eve can now partake of the Eucharistic fruit. Yahweh’s promise to Adam and Eve in the Garden is fulfilled. As described by Peter, Adam and Eve have been led out of the realm of the dead by Christ to the true Paradise (1 Peter 3:18-20). At this point in the Mass, the priest has not yet made the turn closing heaven. It is still open because of the complete turn he made at the Orate Fratres. At the climax of the Mass, Adam and Eve and their descendants are led into the eternal Paradise by the fruit of the Tree of Life. This fulfills Yahweh’s promise to Adam and Eve and brings the story of the earthly Eden to a close, never to be inhabited again, but to be superseded by the Promised Land of heaven.

However, it is not just Adam and his descendants who are redeemed by the fruit of the Tree of Life, it is all of Creation—both animate and inanimate. Paul explicitly tells us this,

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. For the earnest expectation of the creation eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now (Romans 8:18-22).

In the Greek, the word used by Paul for “creation” is κτισις (ktisis) which means everything created—both animate and inanimate. The fragmentation of time, entropy, and every other manifestation of the death and decay caused by Adam is redeemed by Christ which is why the priest makes the sign of the Cross toward Eden—Creation in its unfallen, fallen, and now redeemed state.

After the blessing and absolution, the priest’s next gesture is to turn toward the congregation, specifically to the children of Adam and Eve, and hold up Paradise for all of the people to see, like the High Priest holding up the Bread of the Presence at the three great Jerusalem Temple feasts (Passover, Tabernacles, and Pentecost). Instead of saying, “Behold God’s love for you” as in the Old Covenant (which points to the Eucharistic sacrifice of the New Covenant which is where God’s love will be made manifest in the sacrifice of the Son), he now says, “Ecce Agnus Dei: ecce qui tollit peccata mundi” (behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world), thus quoting John the Baptist (John 1:35), who first recognizes Jesus as the perfect olat ha-tamid lamb, God’s love for us made flesh. John uses the Greek word αμνος or amnos for “lamb” which is the word for the Tamid sacrifice, not προβατιον or probaton for “sheep” or “goat” which is the word for the Passover sacrifice. The Catholic Mass is the eternal daily sacrifice of the lamb on the heavenly Jerusalem Temple Mount and the fulfillment and continuation of the redemptive daily Old Testament sacrifice. The Mass quotes John the Baptist here to teach us that the Eucharist is primarily the Tamid amnos and not the Passover probaton.

We respond by repeating three times,

Domine, non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo et sanabitur anima mea (Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof: but say the word and my soul shall be healed).

This is an allusion to the words used by the centurion when Jesus agreed to come and heal his servant (Matthew 8:8). By this point in the Mass, the Jews have rejected and crucified Christ. They denied his Resurrection. Just like the other Roman centurion at the foot of the Cross, it is the Gentiles to whom the faith has been passed. Christ is coming to physically dwell within each of us — “under our roofs”— and we in him.

Faithful Catholics who have toiled in the Master’s vineyard from dawn, or arrived late in the day, are welcome to kneel at the communion rail in a state of grace. There they receive their daily wage from the owner of the vineyard as the Eucharistic denarius,8 fulfilling the request for that “daily” (actually “super-essential” or epiousios) bread Jesus taught us to ask for in the Our Father9. The clergy administers Communion with the words, “Corpus Domini nostri Jesu Christi custodiat animam tuam in vitam aeternam. Amen.” (“May the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto life everlasting. Amen.”) The in persona Christi priest does the unmerited work of salvation himself — and therefore says the “Amen” himself while the communicant remains silent—opening their mouth to be fed the living flesh of Christ. By doing so, we partake of the fruit of the Tree of Life by Jesus’s own hand.

Awesome.

Now that the resurrected Christ is presented to us at the Fraction, we recognize exactly who he is by reciting the Agnus Dei (”Lamb of God”). In this moment, we echo the words of recognition spoken by John the Baptist when he first saw Jesus approaching.

“Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!” (John 1:29)

There is a fascinating linguistic subtext to the original words that are universally translated as “lamb” by modern translations. When the first Passover feast in Egypt is instituted, Scripture reads:

Moses called for all the elders of Israel and said to them, “Go away and take a lamb for yourselves according to your families, and sacrifice the Pascha. Then you shall take a bunch of hyssop, dip it in the blood in the basin, and strike the lintel and the two doorposts with the blood in the basin.”

Interestingly, the word translated here as “lamb” in the ancient Greek Septuagint is a form of probata, which actually means “sheep” or small domestic livestock. John does not use this word at all, but rather another one, amnos, that is loaded with a very different religious meaning. In the Old Testament, amnos is reserved for something far more specific: it is the word always used to describe the Tamid—the perpetual, daily temple sacrifice. John is made joyful by the appearance in the flesh of the lamb of the daily Temple sacrifice, not by the lamb of the Passover. Jesus is the embodiment and fulfillment of centuries not just of Jewish practices, but of the Temple liturgy. He is their purpose. John witnesses the fulfillment of his own prophecies as the Great Forerunner and the last of the Old Testament prophets, all of whom point toward the Messiah. At the Transfiguration, we are shown Moses and Elijah conversing with Jesus outside of time in their glorified state. Unlike Moses who died within sight of the Promised Land, John actually sees the Promised Land, the incarnated God, with his own mortal eyes. No wonder John is exuberant upon seeing him! The waiting for John is over in this life—he doesn’t have to wait until the next. We exclaim with the same joy as John because at the Consecration we saw the Messiah in the flesh before us, and at the Fraction we even witness his Resurrection. Unlike John who died too soon, we will be privileged to complete our Passover journey here in this life and become part of Jesus’s mystical body at Communion. We can be at peace knowing that Resurrection awaits us. We are witnesses to the entire arc of Salvation re-presented for us in the Mass outside of time. We will also freely converse with Jesus just as Moses and Elijah do.

Amnos appears only four times in the New Testament, and never in the immediate context of the Passover meal or the Last Supper. Instead, it is used exclusively to unveil Jesus’s identity as the ultimate, continuous sacrifice:

1. John 1:29: When John the Baptist first sees Jesus and cries, “Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”

2. John 1:36: The next day, when John sees Jesus walking and repeats, “Behold the Lamb of God!”

3. Acts 8:32: When Philip explains the Prophet Isaiah to the Ethiopian eunuch: “He was led as a sheep to the slaughter; and as a lamb (amnos) before its shearer is silent, so He opened not His mouth.”

4. 1 Peter 1:18–19: When St. Peter reminds the Church that they were not redeemed with corruptible silver or gold, “...but with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb (amnos) without blemish and without spot.”

Peter does not identify Jesus with the “sheep” of the Passover sacrifice for the simple reason that the Paschal sacrifice does not redeem sins; it is only a sign of a future deliverance that will be brought about by the perfect Tamid lamb who does redeem sins with the perpetual shedding of his innocent blood. It is this same Tamid imagery that John the Evangelist elevates to its cosmic conclusion in the Book of Revelation.1

At the just concluded Fraction, we witness the Resurrection and the revelation of the Eucharistic Christ in the breaking of the bread at the inn. Redemption is completed with the Resurrection, but our individual salvation cannot happen unless we partake of the Eucharistic body of Christ. The Church reminds us again at the Agnus Dei exactly who this Eucharistic bread is (the same Kurios) and its salvific purpose. This is the God (Yahweh or Kurios), who was revealed to us at the Kyrie and whose mercy we pleaded for. At the Agnus Dei the plea of the Kyrie Eleison is completed. In the traditional Mass, this connection is musically underscored for us.

When the choir or congregation sings the Agnus Dei, they are singing from the exact same setting of the Kyriale used for the Kyrie at the very beginning of the Mass. Whether a parish is utilizing the universally known lines of Mass VIII (Missa de Angelis) or the medieval contours of Mass XI (Orbis Factor), the Kyrie and the Agnus Dei remain structurally and melodically bound. While the priest stands in profound silence at the altar during the Fraction, the responsibility of this vocal recognition falls entirely to the choir and the faithful. The two prayers are composed in the exact same musical mode, sharing an identical tonal gravity. The ear instantly catches the familial resemblance of the music. The blind cry for mercy that opened the liturgy is answered by the same melody, but now it is gratefully sung directly to the Savior now physically present before us.

The connection between the divinity at the Kyrie to a physically present sacrificial victim is not just a theological concept; it was preserved for us through intense geopolitical conflict. In 692, the Byzantine Emperor Justinian II convened the Quinisext Council—also known as the Council in Trullo—which sought, among other things, to outlaw the depiction of Christ as a lamb, insisting on human imagery alone. Pope St. Sergius I resolutely refused to capitulate to the imperial decree. In an act of liturgical defiance, Sergius did the exact opposite: he commanded that the invocation of Christ as the Lamb of God be sung by the clergy and people at the very moment the Host was broken on the altar. The Agnus Dei was codified in the West to preserve and defend orthodoxy. It ensured that whenever the state or the world tries to obscure the sacrificial nature of Christ, the liturgy will boldly assert it again.

The priest now prays for the spiritual effects of peace, healing, and grace that Communion is to have upon us. The previous prayers of the Mass are almost all directed toward the Father. Beginning with the Agnus Dei, the prayers turn toward Christ, the Lamb.

We pray for the Lamb to remove our sins, or at least their effects, so that we too can be resurrected and ultimately glorified just as he is. “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day” (John 6:54). In this famous verse, Jesus himself ties together the Eucharist with Resurrection. If we eat his flesh and drink his blood, then we will be raised on the last day, but only as members of his sinless Eucharistic body.

The sacrificial altar is liturgically considered to be Christ Himself. The cloths that cover it represent the Shroud. In the everyday, we consider objects that have come in contact with persons to somehow belong to them, to take on some of their essence or being. We all treasure family bibles and other objects that may have been used by beloved family members, particularly those who are no longer with us. The sacrificial altar of a Church is blessed, made sacred, and thus set aside for the exclusive use of God. In addition, Christ’s body and blood touch and rest upon it at every Mass. An altar is by definition a place where sacrifices are made to a deity. In Christian theology, Christ is the High Priest and the Sacrifice; wherever his glorified body is, that is the place where the Sacrifice is being made perpetually to the Father. Therefore, Christ is also the perfect Altar. It is within the depths of Christ’s hypostatic union of divinity and humanity that sin is extinguished, but also where his perpetual offering of himself to his Father takes place. Christ makes his ongoing offering on the altar of his human and divine will. This offering is outside of time and space, but the re-presentation of that offering is made visible in time and in space on the physical altar of every Catholic Church. This same idea is expressed in a slightly different way by John when he writes:

Jesus answered and said to them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” Then the Jews said, “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and you will raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. Therefore when he had risen from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this to them; and they believed the Scripture and the word which Jesus had said (John 2:19-22).

Jesus says these things to the Jews after he has cleansed the Jerusalem Temple of the moneychangers. God dwells in Jesus’ human body; hence, it is the true temple of God that the Jerusalem temple only foreshadows. In addition, it is in the Jerusalem Temple where the Old Testament Tamid and todah sacrifices to God occurred. It is these dual functions of the Jerusalem Temple as dwelling place and place of sacrifice that Jesus is speaking of when he refers to the temple of his body, which will be sacrificed at his Passion and rebuilt at his Resurrection.

The first two verses of the Agnus Dei acknowledge that the flesh and blood of the Tamid lamb are the atoning sacrifice for our sins: “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.” However, burnt offerings and libation offerings of wine were also peace offerings. Our intent is to achieve reconciliation and peace with God, which can only be found in heaven. So we conclude with a direct plea to the Tamid lamb: “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world, grant us peace.”

Yahweh has accomplished all he set out to do, and finally his peace can come to Creation. This part of the Mass is his appearance in the Upper Room after his resurrection, where the first words he says to the astonished and frightened disciples are, “Peace be with you.” As discussed earlier, the meal in the Upper Room is a wedding feast with the Bridegroom, just as the Eucharist is a wedding feast with the same Bridegroom. At the Pax, the priest kisses the altar, which is Christ, then turns and gives the kiss of peace to the deacon, who in turn passes it down through the subdeacon and the acolytes. It is Christ’s peace that is given by the priest in the kiss that radiates from Him down and through the congregation and the world.

This is another embodiment of the powerful image found in Ezekiel. He has a vision of grace depicted as water flowing from the Jerusalem Temple that actually increases the further it flows from its source.2

Again he measured a thousand (cubits) and he passed through the water, and the water was up to the knees. Again he measured a thousand, and water came up the waist. Again he measured a thousand, and it could not be crossed; for it broke into a rushing torrent which man cannot pass through (Ezekiel 47:4-5).

Peace is a sign of unity, while conflict is disunity. It is by partaking of the Body of Christ that we become one Body with Christ, one people, and one Church. It is sacrilegious and wrong to partake of the Eucharist with enmity remaining in our hearts. As Jesus says:

“Therefore, if you bring your gift there before the altar, and remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar, and go your way. First be reconciled to your brother and then come and offer your gift” (Matthew 5:23-24).

In the traditional Mass, there is no turning and wishing of peace among the members of the congregation, for we have no supernatural peace. Many of us have nothing to offer each other but turmoil, certainly not anything like the supernatural peace of Christ. In the Novus Ordo, the priest does not even kiss the altar; he abruptly interrupts what he is doing and instructs the congregation to “offer one another the sign of peace.” That is a groovy sentiment, but once again in the Novus Ordo, the presence and worship of God, the cascading out of his peace, are all on standby as the priest and people turn and focus their attention upon themselves, ignoring Christ who is truly present as the altar and in the tabernacle, and whose Passion and Resurrection we have just witnessed

The liturgy moves directly from the Fraction/Resurrection to the Agnus Dei. Because of its proximity to Communion, it is easy to see the Agnus Dei only as a preparatory prayer for the sacrament. However, the actual direct consequence of the removal of sins through the Sacrifice of the Passion is resurrection. Death is the wages of sin, so it follows that if there is no sin, there is no death. No perfectly sinless person can die. That is why Mary needed to be assumed into heaven and why Jesus could only die after he took upon himself our sins. We pray for the Lamb to remove our sins, or at least their effects, so that we too can be resurrected and ultimately glorified just as he is. “Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day” (John 6:54). In this famous verse, Jesus himself ties together the Eucharist with Resurrection. If we eat his flesh and drink his blood, then we will be raised on the last day, but only as members of his sinless Eucharistic body.

Jesus has completed the sacrificial mission of the Lamb of God. However, the Sacrifice of the Mass itself is not complete until the in persona Christi priest consumes the sacrifice on our behalf, which will be done in the next part of the Mass.

Resurrection is an overriding theme in Scripture. In the Old Testament, Elijah and Elisha both performed resurrections foreshadowing Christ (1 Kings 17:17-24, 2 Kings 4:18-37). Jonah descended to Sheol in the belly of the whale but was resurrected when vomited onto the shore by command of the divine word (logos) (Jonah 2:1-10).

Jesus, of course, performs several resurrections, but so do Peter (Acts 9:36-42) and Paul (Acts 20:9-12). After each of these resurrections, the person returns to his former living state with the same body. Not only did Jesus himself resurrect on Easter morning, but “the graves were opened; and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised, and coming out of the graves after his resurrection, they went into the holy city and appeared to many” (Matthew 27:52-53).

There is no description that any of these bodies were in any way different than they were when first alive. There is no evidence that they were glorified and immortal, so we can assume that they ultimately died again. Otherwise, what would have happened to them? Were they just assumed into heaven? When Mary Magdalene first encountered Jesus in the garden Easter morning, he was a resurrected body just like all of the other resurrections recorded in Scripture, not yet displaying his fully glorified state. To demonstrate this, Jesus tells Mary not to touch him, for he has “not yet ascended to the Father” (John 20:17). Why did Jesus want to make his first post-resurrection appearance in this manner, rather than immediately displaying the awesome glorified body he reveals later?

The answer lies in the cosmic history of time and relationship. Adam destroyed creation by introducing evil into the eternal garden where he had once been in perfect companionship with God. Sin caused eternal time to fragment into sequential time. Since fragmentation must happen across time, all created things became subject to the fragmentation of decay and death (Genesis 3:19). Adam was thrust into another realm of time, retreating from the presence of God. God now had to actively seek him by calling out, “Adam, where are you?” (Genesis 3:9). What then followed was an act of profound divine mercy—Adam was expelled from the Garden (Genesis 3:23-24). If he had remained in the realm of eternal time, there would be no possibility of change, and Adam would have been forever fallen, just like the demons who are permanently fixed outside of time (Jude 1:6). Once cast out of the realm of the eternal, there could be a possibility of change. Since fragmented time flows from a past, to the present, toward a future, there remained the possibility of redemption.

When Mary Magdalene encountered the incarnate Yahweh Easter morning (John 20:11-18), he was still in the Garden of the Dead—our realm where death is sovereign. Jesus’ resurrected body and the glorified one seen later by the disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35) are the same body, but in fundamentally different states. The glorified, immortal body was previewed at the Transfiguration, where Jesus showed himself the way he is in eternal time (Matthew 17:1-8, Mark 9:2-8).

This pattern of the relationships between properties as defining the identity and nature of something is not limited to scripture or physics. We can see it almost everywhere we look where “meaning” is required. For example, human language is organized the same way. The meanings of words (the subatomic particles or building blocks, as it were, of language) are dependent upon the context in which they are used. A word’s meaning is dependent upon how it is used in a sentence, while the meaning of a sentence is affected by the paragraph in which it exists. The paragraph is in turn defined by how it is related to the larger work. A work can even take on a different meaning depending upon how it exists within the broader culture.

Not surprisingly, computer languages have a lot of grammatical, syntactical, and organizational similarity to human language. It is becoming increasingly clear that genes within living things are organized similarly to computer languages, which in turn have much in common with human languages. There are hierarchical orders of regulatory information within genomic DNA that guide the proper functioning of the cell. They provide the overall organization to the “work.” It is not uncommon for the same gene to perform different functions within the same species and also in entirely different species. The “meaning” or “nature” of an individual gene is not fixed. Everything in the genome of living things depends upon context and relationship.

The genome then shares frequently used regulatory and expressed sequences among a variety of genes, maintains discrete “functions” or “services,” and provides formatting and indexing codes that allow the cell to express specific modules of genetic information in response to various needs and stimuli. It maintains similar hierarchical “files within folders,” organizational systems to optimize access and retrieval of stored data, and much more.

Beyond languages, the Trinity itself is organized around the relationships among the divine Persons. There is the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit that proceeds as the Relationship or Communication between them. In the case of the divine relationships, they are fixed; their identities never change. They are eternally the same. However, other personal beings and physical things, particularly ones in sequential time, can change their identities as they change their relationships. In the realm of the supernatural, not only the identity, but the nature of things can change when relationships change. Examples of changing relationships changing the identities of physical things (e.g., entangled subatomic particles) and human beings (e.g., changes in family relationships) are commonplace. But, how about examples from Scripture of a change in a relationship changing not just the identity but the nature of something?

As we observed in the garden, the nature of the resurrected body of Christ was transformed into an immortal, glorified state simply by being brought into a new, immediate relationship with the Father. When Mary Magdalene is initially forbidden to cling to him (John 20:17), the restriction makes perfect sense when viewed through the imagery of the Old Testament High Priest on the Day of Atonement.

In Levitical law, the High Priest was the only one permitted to carry the blood of the sacrifice into the Holy of Holies—the earthly dwelling place of God’s presence (Leviticus 16:2). While performing this rite, he was entirely set apart; Scripture dictates that “no one may be in the tent of meeting from the time he enters... until he comes out” (Leviticus 16:17), ensuring that no human contact could interrupt or defile the offering before it was presented.

Furthermore, Levitical law required the High Priest to strip away his vestments, wash his body, and put on sacred, pure white linen garments before entering the veil (Leviticus 16:4). The Gospels echo this exact atmosphere: inside the empty tomb, Mary Magdalene first witnesses two angels dressed in “white robes” sitting where Jesus’s body had lain (John 20:12), signaling that a cosmic, pristine, high-priestly ritual was actively taking place.

Mary could not hold him because Jesus—acting as the ultimate High Priest, clothed in the absolute purity of the resurrection—was literally in the process of this cosmic transition. The Book of Hebrews explicitly frames Christ’s movement in these exact priestly terms:

But when Christ appeared as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and more perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation) he entered once for all into the holy places, not by means of the blood of goats and calves but by means of his own blood, thus securing an eternal redemption” (Hebrews 9:11-12).

He was carrying his own resurrected body, the final and perfect sacrifice, into the heavenly Holy of Holies to present it to the Father. As Paul later notes,

For Christ has entered, not into holy places made with hands, which are copies of the true things, but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God on our behalf (Hebrews 9:24).

Between this morning encounter with Mary and his appearances later that evening, this hidden, theological Ascension takes place. Once the sacrifice is accepted and placed in direct, face-to-face relation with the Father, Jesus’s humanity is instantly and permanently glorified outside of time. The High Priest has entered the Holy of Holies, changed his relationship to the Source of All Life, and emerged transformed.

When he returns to earth later that same day, his relation to physical reality has fundamentally shifted. He can now appear to the disciples on the road to Emmaus in “another form” (Mark 16:12—using the root morphe, the same word Paul uses in Philippians 2:6 to describe the essential divine nature). Because his body is now fully glorified and impassable, the strict rules of the unoffered sacrifice no longer apply. He can actively invite Thomas to handle his wounds (John 20:27), and he can open the door for his physical body to be shared, multiplied, and consumed across time and space in the Eucharist. Seen correctly, the public Ascension celebrated forty days later (Acts 1:9) was not the moment of his glorification, but rather his permanent, visible departure from sequential history.

Resurrection comes first; then follows glorification. Through this sequence, God demonstrates the absolute continuity of the human body. Because a human being is, by definition, an enfleshed spirit, a completely different type of body would imply a completely different category of being. Instead, Jesus proves that humanity is redeemed, not replaced. We continue on as the exact individuals we always were, simply perfected. There is no ontological rupture—only redemption, resurrection, restoration, and ultimately, the glorification and deification (theosis) of who we are and have always been.

The gates of death have not prevailed (Matthew 16:18). Plucked from our graves, we are made as “gods,” (Psalm 82:6, John 10:34), yet we remain fully intact and recognizable as ourselves. This reality underscores the central importance of the Incarnation. Only God himself—the Source of All Being—could restore the existence that creation was leaking,1 thus leading to the decay and death caused by turning away from him toward evil. Redemption had to occur from the inside out. As Paul so beautifully describes, the Body of Christ has many members (1 Corinthians 12:12-27). To truly live, we must be engrafted into him by baptism in the Holy Spirit (Romans 11:17-24, 1 Corinthians 12:13). As members of the Son’s own body, our relationship to the Divine shifts: we become sons and daughters of the Father by adoption (Romans 8:15, Galatians 4:5).

As an aside, this raises a crucial question: how can there be continuity of our physical bodies from this life to the next if they are completely destroyed, such as those cremated, dissolved in the ocean, or even completely decayed in the ground? What does the resurrection of the body mean when no physical remnant remains? Does God hunt down the specific, scattered molecules that once comprised a particular body and reconstitute them?

The answer lies in the fact that the actual molecules and atoms making up our bodies are entirely interchangeable. One carbon atom is identical to any other. The matter that comprises our individual bodies today will go on to make up other bodies and organisms after we decompose and re-enter the cycle of life. Molecules are like interchangeable Legos; they can be used to construct virtually anything the Designer wishes. We are not the temporary molecules that comprise our bodies. What truly defines our bodies and our persons is information.

This is precisely where modern science converges with traditional Catholic philosophy. St. Thomas Aquinas famously taught that the human soul is the forma corporis—the “form of the body.” In the Thomistic tradition, “form” is not merely an outward shape, but the intrinsic, organizing principle that gives brute matter its specific identity, life, and structure.

Translated into the language of our digital age, the soul is the ultimate repository of our personal information. It is our unique soul that serves as this organizing principle, guiding the self-formation of our distinct physical bodies. The specific organization of our body is what makes it not just functional, but uniquely individual.

This exact framework resolves the modern skeptic’s objection to the real presence in the Eucharist. In Thomistic metaphysics, the accidents (the physical properties of color, taste, weight, and molecular structure) remain completely unchanged after the Consecration. Under a microscope, the molecules are still those of bread and wine. But the substance—the underlying reality, or what we now understand as the fundamental “informational code”—has been entirely transubstantiated into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ. The physical “Lego blocks” remain, but the cosmic information holding them together has shifted, completely redefining the nature of the reality present before us. The bread and the wine have also been placed in a new relationship with Christ himself fundamentally changing what they actually are.

Because God is the Source of all, he possesses the complete information of our design within his own intellect. When it comes time to raise us from the dead, he does not need to scavenge for old atoms; he simply uses the eternal information he already possesses in his Mind to provide a “new” body that stands in perfect, unbroken Thomistic continuity with the body we have always had.

When that body is subsequently glorified, it means he perfects that informational structure to bring the whole person to completion. Ultimately, all that exists is information, and the locus of that information is a Mind. When God thinks something, it comes into existence and becomes absolutely real. Resurrection and glorification are simply magnificent expressions of this awe-inspiring reality.

The resurrection and glorification of the body are not merely abstract theological concepts; they are liturgically and physically manifested in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass—specifically, during the rite of the Fraction (Fractio Panis) in the Traditional Latin Mass.

Jesus does not remain in the realm of the dead very long. In the symbolic drama of the altar, human ministers place the pall over the chalice to cover the Precious Blood, a poignant reminder that now that he is dead, he cannot place the stone upon the entrance to his own tomb. Yet, at the moment of the resurrection, the paradigm shifts. The pall is removed from the chalice by the in persona Christi priest himself—not left to a subordinate minister—to indicate that the stone was not rolled away from the tomb by any mortal man, but by the raw power of God.

The Fraction is the liturgical enactment of the resurrection of the glorified body. “Breaking the bread” in a Eucharistic context demonstrates the multiplication of the body, a reality only possible with a glorified, impassable form operating outside standard physical limitations. It was precisely “in the breaking of the bread” that the disciples at Emmaus finally saw him (Luke 24:30-31). What they recognized was the resurrected and glorified Jesus who had walked beside them. The “breaking of the bread” at the Fraction is the visual sign of Jesus’s glorification.

Just like the High Priest broke the Bread of the Presence in the Temple before it was eaten by the priests (Leviticus 24:5-9), the in persona Christi priest fractions the host into three pieces. This threefold division represents the Trinity—three Persons, but one undivided substance. These pieces also mystically represent the three parts of the One Holy Church: the Church Militant, the Church Suffering, and the Church Triumphant. Furthermore, the particle taken from the host and placed into the chalice represents the rib taken from Adam to form his spouse, Eve (Genesis 2:21-22)—just as the Church, the Bride of Christ, was born out of the Savior’s pierced rib (John 19:34).

This liturgical particle connects directly to the ancient Roman tradition of the Fermentum. In the early Church, the Pope would consecrate the Eucharist at his own station church and send a physical particle of that very host via acolytes to the various titular churches across Rome. The local priests would then place this papal particle into their own chalices during the Fraction. This historic act was a profound expression of relational ontology: it physically and liturgically demonstrated that the sacrifice is fundamentally one, unbroken, and continuous across space and time, bound together by a shared relationship with the See of Peter.

Why is a return to life demonstrated by breaking a body into pieces? In order for a resurrection to occur, a body must first be dead, and death is fundamentally the fragmentation and dissolution of the unity of life. By placing the particle into the chalice, the priest reunites the body with the life-giving blood, restoring the complete living structure. He makes the sign of the cross three times over the chalice to indicate the three days Jesus spent in the tomb.

After his resurrection, he appears to the disciples in the Upper Room to reassure them, saying, “The peace of the Lord is always with you” (Luke 24:36), to which we respond, “And with thy spirit.” Standing during the liturgy is a profound sign of respect, but we specifically stand at these moments as a sign of resurrection. Each time Christ, in the person of the priest, says, “Dominus vobiscum,” we rise or remain standing. We do so because the Lord is the Resurrection (John 11:25), and we stand in his resurrected presence, ready to follow him. It is impossible to follow anyone while sitting or kneeling; we must be on our feet. Otherwise, the natural human reaction to the raw presence of the resurrected Christ would be paralyzing fear, best represented by falling prostrate on our knees.

Each of the seven Dominus Vobiscums recited by the priest during the Mass represents a different gift of the Holy Spirit. Here, at the Fraction and Resurrection, it represents Knowledge. The prior Dominus Vobiscum occurs at the beginning of the Canon and represents Fortitude. The next occurs after Communion and represents Piety. Before Christ’s Passion is re-presented during the Canon, the Church Militant desperately needs fortitude to endure, persevere, and suffer alongside our Lord. But here, after his appearance in the Upper Room, his resurrection and our redemption are accomplished historical facts. We now need the gift of knowledge to fully comprehend this transformed reality, followed later by piety to live a life of humble grace.

The Fraction also represents Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus. As Luke writes, the disciples “recognized him in the breaking of the bread” (Luke 24:35). Unlike the morning encounter with Mary Magdalene in the garden, Jesus has now ascended to the Father and is appearing “in another form” (Mark 16:12). The encounter on the road may well have been the very first appearance of Jesus in time with his fully glorified body.2 This “other form” also perfectly mirrors what occurred at the inn, where Jesus appeared to them in his permanent Eucharistic form—hidden within the breaking of the bread.

The Fraction is also a clear reference to Jesus’ resurrected appearance in the Upper Room. The priest says out loud for all to hear, “Pax Dómini sit semper vobíscum,” which means “the peace of our Lord be always with you,” not simply “Dominus vobiscum” or “Lord be with you” as he does on several other occasions in the Mass. The added “pax” here is a reference to John 20:19:

Then, the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them, “Peace be with you.”

In this Upper Room appearance, Jesus breathes upon them—one of the only seven uses of the Greek word emphusao (εμφυσάω) in Scripture (John 20:22)—imparting the Holy Spirit to forgive sins. Now that the resurrected Christ is visibly before us on the altar, we recognize exactly who he is and what he has done by reciting the Agnus Dei (“Lamb of God”). We echo the words of recognition spoken by John the Baptist (John 1:29). He is the true Tamid Lamb, offered and re-presented in a perfect atoning sacrifice to take away the sins of the world. His living flesh is our living food (John 6:51).

The communion rite officially begins with the Our Father. Unlike other parts of the Mass which are not prayed aloud, the prayer is spoken clearly for all to be heard by the priest because Jesus taught the prayer to the disciples at their request. The Our Father was never meant to be a private prayer by the priest like the words of the Consecration taught by Jesus to the apostles and their successors. It was a prayer truly meant for everyone. The pronouns of the prayer are plural, not singular because he is teaching a crowd. Unfortunately, because of an egregious mistranslation by St. Jerome, it has been obscured for generations that the Our Father is not just a general prayer of supplication; rather, it is explicitly a Eucharistic prayer of supplication.

When Jesus teaches us to ask the Father to “Give us this day our ‘daily’ bread,” in the original Greek, the word translated as daily is επιουσιος or epiousios. This is a unique word coined specifically by the Evangelists (secundum Jesum) to capture an unprecedented spiritual reality. It is a compound word consisting of epi (upon/above/beyond) and ousia (being/substance/essence). Literally parsed, the word means “that which is above or beyond all created substance.” Therefore, the correct, literal theological translation is “super-substantial” or “super-essential”—referring directly to the supernatural bread of the Eucharist.

One thing it definitely does not mean is “daily” as in “commonplace.” Yet, Jerome translated it into Latin as quotidianum, which unambiguously means “daily.” This isn’t a secret. It is a fact known and remarked upon by many Church Fathers and great saints throughout the centuries. In addition, when the sentence is translated as “give us this day our daily bread” it is redundant and awkward and not worthy of the brilliant epigrammatic style of the Incarnate Word’s usual discourse. It would be sufficient to simply say “give us our daily bread” and it would mean the same thing.

Jerome’s defenders argue that he did not make an error when he translated epiousios as quotidianum (”daily”) in the Luke version of the Our Father (Luke 11:3). Rather, it was a deliberate pastoral compromise to avoid causing a liturgical schism among the uneducated Latin laity.1 Jerome knew the literal Greek root meant “super-essential” or “super-substantial” (supersubstantialis), and he explicitly used that exact translation in the Gospel of Matthew (Matthew 6:11). Before Pope Damasus commissioned Jerome to standardize the Latin Bible in 382 AD, the fragmented Old Latin text versions (Vetus Latina) had been translated by local scribes who leaned heavily on a secondary, colloquial meaning of the word. Because epiousios can also idiomatically imply “the bread necessary for the oncoming day” (from epi-ienai, “the coming day”), early Latin liturgies had been chanting the prayer with the word “quotidianum” (”daily”) for over two centuries.

When Jerome arrived at Matthew 6:11, he correctly chose to prioritize dogmatic and philological precision and wrote:

“Panem nostrum supersubstantiaalem da nobis hodie.” (Give us this day our super-substantial bread.)

However, when he reached Luke 11:3, Jerome chose to compromise in favor of “pastoral peace.” He feared that if he removed the word quotidianum from Luke’s Gospel, it might create confusion in local parishes. He left Luke as:

“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis quotidie.” (Give us our daily bread daily).

Why he specifically chose to translate Matthew correctly and Luke incorrectly—and not vice versa—is unclear. The problem with compromises is that they usually obscure a truth and create as many problems as they solve. From the get-go, a reader may wonder why in one account Jesus's actual words teach the disciples to ask for regular bread to fill their bellies, and in another, he is asking for something exalted and profound—that we eat his transubstantiated, substantial Body and Blood? Of course, as the centuries have passed, the implications of the “compromise” have only grown more obvious. The Our Father has evolved into the ultimate Christian ecumenical prayer that people of all denominations think they can pray together. In reality, the prayer is profoundly unecumenical as its true meaning is overtly Catholic, not Protestant. It is uncharitable towards our separated brethren to blithely pretend otherwise.

The reduction of epiousios to mere material food (quotidianum) has been aggressively resisted by the greatest theological minds of the Christian tradition. Saints and scholars universally maintained that this unique Greek term was minted specifically to convey a supernatural reality.

The earliest to do so was St. Justin Martyr in the second century, who established that the true food of the Christian is fundamentally supernatural, drawing its life directly from the divine Logos rather than the corruptible, transient matter that sustains animal flesh.2 Writing shortly thereafter, St. Clement of Alexandria fiercely rejected any carnal-minded interpretation of the text, arguing that it is a profound error to pray to an eternal King for earthly rations; he defined the true epiousios bread as Christ Himself—the Divine Word descending from heaven to nourish the intellect.3 In the third century, St. Cyprian of Carthage noted that the epiousios bread is the specific, supernatural flesh of Christ reserved solely for the faithful.4

During the great fourth-century Arian battles over orthodoxy, St. Athanasius of Alexandria characterized the bread as the “first-fruits of the world to come”—a supernatural food of the Holy Spirit engineered to sustain the inner essence of the soul and prepare the Christian’s incorruptible resurrection body.5 St. Basil the Great pointed out a glaring logical contradiction in a purely material reading of the petition. Since Christ explicitly commands his followers in the Sermon on the Mount not to be anxious about what they will eat or drink, it would violate divine logic for Christ to then command them to beg for those exact same earthly provisions.6 St. Gregory of Nyssa analyzed the etymology of epi-ousia to prove it denotes a substance completely foreign to physical laws. Gregory defined it as “the bread necessary for our spiritual essence,” an incorruptible food meant to protect the immortal soul from moral decay.7 St. John Chrysostom argued that epiousios means “the bread of the oncoming day,” which strips the Christian of worldly anxiety and forces the mind to look forward to the eschatological banquet of the Kingdom.8

In the Western Church, the critique of the word quotidianum was even more intense. St. Ambrose of Milan told his congregation to look past the routine Latin translation: “If it is daily bread, why do you take it only once a year? Receive daily what is of benefit to you daily! It is called ‘supersubstantial’ because it supports the substance of our soul.”9 St. Augustine argued that epiousios means the visible sacramental Eucharist received at the altar and the invisible spiritual food of the Divine Word.10

Saint Thomas Aquinas argued that while the word operates on a lower plane to cover our immediate earthly needs, its primary, highest formal cause is the supernatural substance of Christ’s body in the Holy Eucharist.11 His master, St. Albert the Great, confirmed this by defining epiousios as the “bread above all substances,” which preserves the spiritual integrity of the soul against the deadening effects of sin.12

St. Teresa of Avila dedicated multiple chapters of her mystical treatise, The Way of Perfection, to questioning the ordinary rendering of the text. She asserted that it was an insult to the majesty of God to beg Him for routine baking flour, pointing out that since Christ had already commanded His disciples to detach themselves from earthly possessions, it would be a contradiction for Him to suddenly have them beg for common human food. Teresa concluded that Christ deliberately used an uncommon, highly specific word because He was looking directly down the corridor of time at his future sacramental presence hidden inside the Tabernacle.

Speaking of time, it should be noted that after the gates of heaven are thrown wide open by the priest’s full turn at the Orate Fratres, they remain open throughout the entire sacrificial prayer. The priest’s subsequent face-to-face turns to the congregation are not historical interruptions of this window, but are rather moments where Christ Himself reaches out from the open heavens to directly look upon, bless, and speak to the disciples before returning to the work of the altar. Therefore, the out-of-time events we are witnessing at this point of the Mass have occurred, are occurring, and will occur. While it is spoken out loud and publicly, the priest sings or recites the entire Our Father completely alone. This reminds us that the priest is standing in the place of Christ, since Christ spoke the words of the prayer the first time by himself when he taught the disciples. As disciples witnessing this out-of-time event as it happened, is happening, and will happen, we have not yet been taught the prayer and cannot yet recite it. We are hearing it for the “first time.” Jesus is responding to our plea and teaching us the prayer. The main body of the Mass is an out-of-time re-presentation of events. (For example, this out-of-time reality is why the words of consecration earlier in the Mass are all singular and spoken in the present tense.)

The laity, representing the first disciples, only joins Christ for the very last phrase, “Sed libera nos a malo” (“But deliver us from evil”). Deliverance from evil is not an idea the disciples need to be taught, since it is the reason they asked Jesus to teach them how to pray in the first place. Joining in with the priest for this final phrase also indicates that we are joining in Christ’s eternal and ongoing prayer to the Father. It is through Christ that all things were made and all divine graces flow. It is through the epiousios Eucharistic bread that we are “delivered from evil.” Seen properly, the Our Father is simply a continuation of the Bread of Life discourse in John 6. When teaching a prayer not as Yahweh the spiritual God, but as the incarnated, bodily Christ, He shifts His vocabulary in the literal Greek of John 6 from a standard word for eating to τρώγων (trogon)—commanding us again to physically “gnaw,” chew, or crunch His body which is present before us.13

As these words are said, the deacon and subdeacon go to the altar, where the subdeacon returns the paten to the deacon. So again, we have the high priest (Christ) joined by the deacon (representing Moses) and subdeacon (representing Elijah) on the mountain of the altar in a brilliant liturgical image of the Transfiguration. In their earthly sojourns, both Moses and Elijah could be in Yahweh’s presence but could not see His face, experiencing only a burning bush or a passing shadow. At the Transfiguration, their desire is fulfilled. Not only are they face-to-face, but they are in direct conversation with Him. The subdeacon removes the paten and the veil from his eyes, visually indicating this transition. We are also now face-to-face with God in the Eucharist. Just as in Exodus 24, we are all about to partake of a covenant meal between God and His Chosen People—except that now the chasm, the barrier of the sapphire stone floor between us, has been entirely eliminated. The Libera Nos prayer that is said here not only repeats the petitions of the Our Father, but also ends with a plea for Yahweh’s intercession with the Father and a statement of faith in the self-revelation of the Trinity that was made both in Exodus 24 and at the Transfiguration.

Through the same Jesus Christ Thy Son our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end.

When the paten was held in front of the eyes of the “Old Testament man,” the subdeacon, it signified the blindness of the Jews and pagans as well as the abandonment by the apostles in contrast to the devotion of the holy women who tended to Jesus. It is the forgiveness won by Christ that takes away the blindness caused by our sins and allows us to see with the eyes of faith.

The final petition that the people speak together is the most important supplication of all. The point of everything that is done by God throughout the process of salvation is to deliver us from evil, which is exclusion from God’s presence at His heavenly covenant meal. The Our Father as recorded in the original Greek by Matthew uses the word ponerou (πονηροῦ) for “evil” in the phrase, “deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:13). In the Greek text, this word sits in the genitive case, making it grammatically identical for both the abstract concept of evil and the personal title for “the Evil One.” If we are not in communion with Christ at the Eucharistic meal, then we are in communion with Satan and forever cast out of heaven into the darkness.

When the people ask for forgiveness, we can see what we need, and therefore we now eagerly join into the prayer, even though it is near its end. This illustrates that it is never too late to be forgiven, that it is never too late to throw oneself upon the mercy of the Lord. Deliverance is just as effective if it occurs at the very last moment—just as long as it happens. This is the point of the parable of the Laborers in the Vineyard:

“These last men have worked only one hour and you made them equal to us who have borne the burden and the heat of the day.” But he answered them, “Friend, I am doing you no wrong. Did you not agree with me for a denarius?” (Matthew 20:12-13).

As long as it is before the end of the day (the end of our lives), it doesn’t matter when we enter the vineyard; we will all receive the same indivisible Eucharistic “denarius” as our eternal reward.

The Libera Nos prayer also asks for the intercession of “the blessed and ever glorious Virgin Mary, Mother of God, together with Thy blessed apostles Peter and Paul, and Andrew, and all the saints.”14 Forgiveness, the Eucharist, and deliverance are the work of God, but in cooperation with His mystical body, the Church. Without the mediation of the Church, God does not dispense these graces. Other than Mary, who demonstrated her supreme intercessory role in Cana, the “stewards” (priests) are also necessary.

Here the specific apostles that are mentioned are Peter and Paul, and Andrew. Andrew is Jesus’ first apostle and the one to bring his brother Peter to meet Him. He is also considered the founder and patriarch of the Eastern Church in Constantinople. Of course, Peter and Paul are the founders and patriarchs of the Western Church in Rome. It is the Western and Eastern traditions together—representing the two ancient lungs of the apostolic Church—who preserve the fullness of the priesthood and the true miracle of the Real Presence. Mary is the Mother of the Church. Together with the priesthood and the saints, the Church is one in Christ.

Jesus is relentless. His every action, every breath, and every heartbeat is directed toward fulfilling the Scriptures. Not surprisingly then, the Our Father is almost entirely a masterful, concentrated synthesis of pre-existing ancient Jewish prayers, specifically drawing from the Kaddish and the Amidah. Jesus was not inventing new theological concepts from scratch; rather, he was taking the grand, sprawling eschatological hopes of first-century Second Temple Judaism and condensing them into a radical, streamlined manifesto for his disciples. When the Apostles asked, “Lord, teach us to pray, just as John taught his disciples” (Luke 11:1), they were asking for a specific, identifying rule of prayer to bind them together. Jesus responded by weaving familiar Hebrew and Aramaic liturgical phrases together, but with one massive, revolutionary structural twist.

The opening movement of the Our Father tracks almost word-for-word with the oldest layer of the Kaddish—the eschatological prayer originally recited by Jewish teachers at the conclusion of a Torah study session long before it became associated with mourning (a transition that occurred during the early medieval period). The Kaddish Text reads:

“Exalted and hallowed be His great name... May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days... speedily and soon.”15

Jesus’s version reads:

Hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come.

The petitions of the Our Father mirror the sequence of the Amidah,16 the central standing prayer of daily Jewish liturgy. Jesus takes several distinct blessings from the Amidah and compresses them into punchy, single-sentence requests:

• The Amidah’s Ninth Benediction is a prayer for agricultural sustenance: “Bless for us, Lord our God, this year and all its varieties of produce for good...” Jesus condenses this down into the immediate, daily dependence of “Give us this day our bread.” Though Jesus completely fulfills, transforms, and blows open this traditional request by specifically asking for the super-natural epiousios Eucharistic bread of his own Body.

• The Sixth Benediction asks for pardon: “Forgive us, our Father, for we have sinned...” Jesus mimics this directly with “Forgive us our trespasses.”

• The Fifteenth Benediction asks for protection from the adversarial forces of evil. Jesus matches this with “Deliver us from the evil one.”

While first-century Jews absolutely viewed Yahweh as the collective Father of the nation of Israel, they approached Him with immense liturgical distance, using titles like Avinu Malkeinu (”Our Father, Our King”). Jesus’s radical departure was commanding his disciples to drop the formal titles and address the infinite Creator of the universe as Abba—a deeply intimate, familial Aramaic term used by children within the safety of the household. By putting Abba at the head of a prayer made of traditional Jewish petitions, Jesus structurally transformed a national liturgy into an intimate family covenant.

Much more can be said about the Our Father than we have room for here. What should be obvious is that it is a breathtaking theological masterpiece inserted into the absolutely perfect place in the Mass—the beginning of the Communion rite. How could Jerome dare to compromise on even one word of it—allowing the old, flat translation to stand in Luke just to placate his own notions of “pastoral needs”?

If a pope executed that mechanical correction with an Apostolic Letter issued Motu Proprio, it would immediately shift the conversation across the entire Christian world. The Catholic Church correcting the translation of the Our Father after centuries of error would be leading global news. For decades, ecumenical meetings have focused on finding vague, consensus language that glides over deep dogmatic differences. Restoring “supersubstantiales” to the Our Father would do the exact opposite. It would draw an unyielding, high-visibility line right down the center of the Christian world. Protestants would be forced to choose between changing the words of the definitive prayer of the gospel to protect their theology, or reciting a text that explicitly commands them to plead for the Catholic Eucharist.

Protestantism prides itself on absolute fidelity to the literal, unadulterated text of scripture over human tradition (sola scriptura). By restoring the literal Greek root (epi-ousia), the papacy would place Protestant scholars in a vice. They would have to publicly explain to their own congregations why they are intentionally altering Christ’s uniquely minted word just to avoid his clear Eucharistic meaning.

Such a papal decree would also be an internal grenade inside the Catholic Church itself. It would instantly arrest the modern, horizontal view of the parish Mass as a routine community meal. If every Catholic in the pews had to look up at the altar at an alter Christus at every single Mass and explicitly beg for “super-substantial bread,” the terrifying, supernatural reality of the Transubstantiation would be permanently re-anchored into the modern Novus Ordo consciousness.

The sky has gone dark, the Centurion has made his confession of faith, and Christ’s human soul has descended to the dead. The sudden ringing of the altar bells shake the congregation to indicate that the earth has shaken and the Temple curtain was torn from top to bottom. This is exactly where the Nobis Quoque and the silent Canon leave us. The sacrifice is fully accomplished. Blood and water have been poured out from the rib2 of the New Adam establishing the everlasting Third Temple. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus have carefully lowered the dead, battered, and bloody, body down from the wood of the Cross.

At the Minor Elevation, the priest raises the body and blood of Christ toward heaven similar to the “lifting and waving” of the Temple Sacrifices. The making of the crosses with the Host over the Chalice by the priest also reminds us of how the Levitical priest in the Jerusalem Temple put his hands under those of the offeror and moved the sacrifice upwards and downwards, right and left, forwards and backwards in the sign of the cross. This gesture of offering the dead body of Christ should also remind us of the Pietà and the Stabat Mater. The Virgin Mary offers her Son to the Father in atonement for our sins.

The priest at the altar behaves exactly like Mary at the Pietà. He takes the Sacred Host (the Body) and holds it directly over the Chalice (the Blood). He does not raise them high over his head in a triumphant, living display like he did at the Major Elevation. Instead, he holds them low and close to the altar cloths, slightly elevated in a hushed, solemn gesture of presentation. By holding the broken body directly over the cup of his poured-out blood, the priest presents the dead, sacrificial victim to the Heavenly Father through the mystical Holy of Holies of the tabernacle before him. He is saying: Look upon the price that has been paid. It is through this precise, solemn presentation of the dead Christ—the Eucharistic Pietà—that the ultimate, infinite praise, honor, and glory are rightfully returned to God the Father Almighty in the unity of the Holy Ghost.

The bells ring to break the silence because the debt of humanity has been entirely paid in full.

Since it was late in the day on Passover, Christ’s body had to be hastily removed from the Cross because the Roman practice was to leave the crucified rotting and Jews were prohibited from unnecessary activity during the holiday. A similar situation repeated itself years later when Nero crucified Peter upside down on the Vatican hill and his body needed to be hastily removed before it was thrown into the Tiber or otherwise desecrated. Peter’s friends cut off his feet to quickly get him off the cross. That is why when his bones were discovered in the 1930s in the Scavi excavations under the main altar of St. Peter’s Basilica, the bones of his feet were missing.

Because Jesus foretold his resurrection, it stands to reason that the temple authorities were deeply concerned with the strict containment of his body to ensure there were no tricks. They were actively attempting to stymie God’s will, knowing that the coming of the Messiah meant the definitive end of their power. While Joseph of Arimathea lovingly prepared the body in the traditional Jewish manner within the tomb, the fearful authorities intervened the following day. To guarantee he did not return and that his followers could not access the site, they placed a contingent of Roman guards outside, sealed the entrance, and secured a heavy stone against the opening. To signify the rolling of the stone across the entrance to the tomb, the “New Testament man,” the deacon, replaces the pall on the chalice. It is the deacon who must do this, not the in persona Christi priest, since the dead Jesus cannot roll the stone across the entrance of his own tomb.

While the shroud contains no clear physical traces of foreign objects or leather straps wrapped around the body, the internal spiritual architecture of the crucifixion mirrors the deepest laws of observant Jewish life. Throughout his ministry, Christ perfectly embodied the reality of the tefillin (phylacteries)—the cubical boxes containing four specific scripture verses that observant Jewish men lash to their foreheads to be close to the mind, and onto their upper arms to be near the heart.

On the cross, even as he hung stripped of all earthly garments, these four defining passages of the law neatly summarized the entire meaning of what was happening on Calvary:

• Shema (Deuteronomy 6:4-9)—The key verse here is where Moses tells the Jews that “the lord our God is one lord.” Jews interpret this to mean a strict monotheism. However, Christian Church Fathers instead interpret this to mean that God has one undivided essence or nature, know that he is one rather than three divine Persons. In addition, these verses command us to “love your God from your whole heart, from your whole soul, and from your whole power.” In Luke 10, a “lawyer” (meaning most likely a scribe or a Pharisee) tests Jesus, asking him what he needs to do to inherit eternal life. Jesus says to the lawyer, “What is written in the law?” The lawyer answers with this same passage from Deuteronomy which he is likely wearing in his tefillin at that very moment, “Thou shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself” (Luke 10:27). In the Greek, “Lord” is Kurios, the translation for Yahweh. In other words, the lawyer says that he should love Yahweh, whom he does not recognize as standing before him in the flesh, just as the Jews will not recognize Yahweh hanging before them on the Cross.

• Vehayah (Deuteronomy 11:13-21)—This passage again demands all of our love, but also severely warns against serving other gods, which will result in perishing from the “good land the Lord gave you.” The repeated faithlessness of the Jewish people is legendary and does not need to be summarized again here. However, during Jesus’ trial, the priests as a group famously say to Pilate, “We have no king but Caesar!” (John 19:15). This is a stunning rejection of the kingship of God in favor of not only a pagan king, but a man falsely claiming to be a god. The words are still hanging in the air as Jesus hangs on the Cross. In the year 70 A.D., the Jerusalem Temple was destroyed and the Jews ultimately perished from the land God gave them.

• Kadesh (Exodus 13:1-10)—This passage reminds them of how Yahweh led them out of bondage in Egypt to the Promised Land. The same God is now delivering them from the bondage of sin into the Promised Land of heaven through his sacrifice on the Cross.

• Vehayah (Exodus 13:11-16)—Here God requires the sanctification of the firstborn of his people, thus foreshadowing the incarnation of the Son of God and his birth as Jesus from the Virgin Mary.

The requirements of the tefillin were fully written upon the very flesh, mind, and blood of Jesus as he entered the tomb. He did not need the texts, leather bands or the parchment boxes; he was himself the ultimate living, breathing fulfillment of the scriptures, offering his whole heart, mind, and strength on the altar of the cross. The priest now says the final words of the doxology in a clear voice: “Per omnia saecula saeculorum.”

In the Temple, sin offerings, peace offerings, covenant offerings, and Passover offerings had to be consumed or burnt in order for the sacrifice to be complete. A sacrifice requires an oblation and an immolation. The purpose of the Consecration is, as Paul says, to have something to offer. That is the oblation. It is therefore now time to prepare for the immolation, which will find its completion when the priest consumes the sacred species. The Minor Elevation is the definitive turning point of the Mass liturgy. It closes the strict sacrificial action and opens the gateway to the communion rite. The ring of the bell signals the faithful to adjust their spiritual posture—the sacrifice has been accepted by the Father, the torrents of grace are officially freed from the side of Christ, and the people are now prepared to pray the Pater Noster together as God’s family asking to be nourished with the Eucharistic bread.

At this point in the Mass, Our Lord is dead on the Cross. This is an appropriate time to pray for those who have predeceased us, so that when Christ “descends to the dead” (as we are taught in the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds and by Peter in his first letter1) he will lead them to the Promised Land of heaven upon his own Resurrection and Glorification.

The Church does not pray for those who are damned and in hell, for they are beyond anyone’s prayers. The saints who are in heaven, the Church Triumphant, also do not need our prayers; rather, we need to pray to the saints for their intercession to allow us to share in their merits. However, the Church frequently and fervently prays for the souls in purgatory since they cannot pray for themselves. “To these, O Lord, and to all that rest in Christ, grant we beseech Thee, a place of refreshment, light and peace. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.”2

The souls in purgatory are also called the “Church Suffering.” While the souls in purgatory suffer greatly through the process of purging their sins, they also live in great hope knowing that the goal of heaven is secured once their suffering is complete. Suffering is different from unhappiness. The uncertainty and suffering of this life is over. It is through the purifying light of Christ that their garments will be made white and they will stand before the throne of the Lamb. We pray that they will soon be in heaven, the place of “refreshment, light and peace.” The word translated as “refreshment” is refrigerium in Latin, which means cooling. This cooling can be refreshing, but it is also consoling and mitigating. Heaven is the place where everything is made right.

At the Nobis Quoque, the priest prays for the living who comprise the Church Militant,

And to us sinners also, Thy servants, hoping in the multitude of Thy mercies, vouchsafe to grant some part and fellowship with thy holy apostles and martyrs…3

The words “nobis quoque peccatoribus” (“and to us sinner also”) are the only words spoken in a raised, audible whisper by the priest during the silent Canon, accompanied by the striking of his breast. At this point of the Mass, mystically, Jesus has just died on the Cross. The priest mimics the Roman Centurion breaking the silence of Golgotha:

And Jesus cried out with a loud voice and breathed His last...So when the centurion, who stood opposite Him, saw that He cried out like this and breathed His last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”'4 (Mark 15:37, 39).

The centurion is a Gentile, indicating that not only is Jesus the Savior of all of humanity, but that it is the Gentiles who will accept him first and his own people will reject him. However, from the plain meaning of the words of the Nobis Quoque prayer, we know this is the cry of the penitent. Jesus is the innocent Lamb and Martyr, who became the Vicarious Penitent when he took on the burden of our sins at his baptism by John and has now fully atoned for humanity on the Cross. Of course, the priest at the Mass saying these words is also a penitent as are those of us assisting at the Mass. Penance is also the first step in preparation for death, for we will also follow Jesus to death. As he says to Peter, “Follow me!” to death, resurrection, and glorification. We can assume the centurion was also a penitent.5 If he simply thought that Jesus was wrongly accused, his cry would have been, “Truly, this man was innocent!” Instead, he explicitly puts what is happening in a spiritual and religious context by exclaiming that “this man was the Son of God!” In cultures of the ancient world, but of course particularly in Jerusalem, bloody sacrifice was an integral part of religious life. It is almost certain that a centurion living in Jerusalem understood what the Jews believed. Like everyone else, he may have heard all about this “Nazarene” and may have even heard Jesus preach himself. The death of Christ on the Cross was the most profound moment in the history of the world and it is only fitting that an echo of the voices of those present would persist forever in the re-presentation of the Passion in the Mass.

The Roman Canon is offered in a deep, hushed, mystical silence, mimicking the dark hours that hung over Golgotha. The priest finally breaks that heavy silence with the audible words “nobis quoque peccatoribus.” By emphasizing our sin at this moment, the priest expresses and gives voice to the reason this man had to be tortured and suffer in such a gruesome way. The Mass is warning us, “take a good look all of you at the Son of Man hanging on the Cross, this is what sin is and where it leads. You did this!”

At the Per Ipsum which concludes the Canon, the priest isn't just reciting text; because he is acting in persona Christi, his voice serves as the literal liturgical manifestation of Christ’s own voice crying out from the wood of the Cross. As he concludes this sacred sacrificial offering with the Per Ipsum doxology, he prays the words “Per ipsum, et cum ipso, et in ipso,” making three vertical crosses with the Sacred Host over the mouth of the Chalice.6

These three specific movements mirror the three direct prayers Jesus addressed specifically to the Father from the altar of Calvary: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34); “Abba, Father, all things are possible unto thee” (Mark 14:36); and His final expiratory cry, “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit” (Luke 23:46). This citation of Psalm 21 is not merely a cry of isolation, nor is it just a quote from a psalm of thanksgiving; the psalm foretells that the Chosen People will pass from the Jews to the Gentiles. While the psalm begins with a portrait of a crushed, pierced, and mocked victim, it pivots sharply into a Todah—a sacrificial hymn of thanksgiving for a miraculous deliverance. Crucially, the final verses of this exact psalm prophesy that the boundaries of God's covenant are about to burst wide open, passing from a single nation to encompass the entire global Gentile world.

And those who seek Him will praise the Lord; Their hearts will live unto ages of ages. All the ends of the world shall remember and turn to the Lord; And all the families of the Gentiles shall worship before You, For the kingdom is the Lord’s; And He is the Master of the Gentiles (Psalm 21:27-29).

The disciples present and we in the pews remember Jesus’s last words, the Jews ignore or mock them, but the Gentile centurion is converted. He is also not just any Gentile, he is a Roman. The Chosen People will be “Romans.” By exclaiming, “Truly this man was the Son of God!” the centurion was also foretelling the end of pagan Rome and its “son of god” Caesars that we remember from Jesus’s discussion of the denarius coin.7 In doing so, the Centurion commits a radical act of political and religious treason against the pagan Empire. He strips that exact blasphemous title away from the portrait of Tiberius Caesar stamped on the denarius coin, and hands it to the true Sovereign on the Cross. He effectively announces that the eagles of the Roman Legions will ultimately bow down before the Cross of Christ, transforming the capital of a pagan empire into the permanent, unyielding headquarters of the Holy See, which will be led by “Peter,” the “Son of Jonah,” the once reluctant prophet to the Gentiles. Even the “gates of death” will not prevail against it. The priest then completes this perfect trinitarian offering with two additional signs of the cross over the altar, sealing the prayer in audible triumph.

It can be easy to overlook how complete Christ’s triumph and victory on the Cross truly was. All Christians understand that he triumphed over sin and death, but there is also the political triumph—he is not just the Redeemer, but also Christ the King, the Son of David. The Jews refused to see that Jesus was the religious Messiah in large part because they confused the religious with the political. They prostituted themselves to the Roman authorities for centuries, shouted for Barabbas the political revolutionary in Pilate’s courtyard, and even revolted against Rome in 70 A.D. and 132 A.D. Political salvation from Rome always eluded them and only ended in their destruction. However, the triumph of the Crucifixion led to Christ’s religious as well as ultimately political triumph over Rome. The scheming and violence of the Jerusalem ruling class was never going to defeat Caesar and the Roman legions, but the Cross would. If the Jews had only been patient and faithful, religious and political salvation would have been theirs.

Moments after Jesus’s death, John records that a soldier “pierced His side with a spear, and immediately blood and water came out” (John 19:34). We do not know who the soldier was or if he was the same centurion that Mark records as exclaiming that Jesus was the Son of God. What we do know is that the soldiers were Roman and the Church was born from Jesus’s side when the blood and water gushed from it. Adjacent to the Jerusalem Temple, the Gihon stream flowed through the Kidron Valley. Blood from the sacrifices on the Temple Mount flowed out of the Temple into the stream. Just as blood and water flowed from the side of the old Temple, blood and water flow from the side of the new Temple, the body of Christ, just as the waters of baptism and Christ’s Eucharistic blood flow in the sacraments of the Roman Catholic Church. To the Jewish mind, blood and water flowing together was the definitive sign of a functioning Temple.8 By replicating this on the Cross, Christ physically proves that His body is the final, unyielding third Temple, and the Catholic Church born from that side is the true tabernacle of the New Covenant. The very next words after “nobis quoque” is a litany of saints. However, these are not just saints, but martyrs. It is through the blood of the martyrs that the blood of the martyred Christ flows into the veins of the Church. Of course, images of copious amounts of water signifying Grace flowing from the Temple are common in Scripture. A particularly appropriate image for our discussion is found in Ezekiel. He has a vision of water flowing from the Jerusalem Temple that actually increases the further it flows from its source.

Again he measured a thousand (cubits) and he passed through the water, and the water was up to the knees. Again he measured a thousand, and water came up the waist. Again he measured a thousand, and it could not be crossed; for it broke into a rushing torrent which man cannot pass through (Ezekiel 47:4-5).

There is life in and near these waters, but outside of it, there is death.

So it shall be that every living thing that moves, wherever the river goes, will live. There will be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters go there; for they will be healed and everything will live wherever the river goes. Fishermen will stand by it from En Gedi to En Eglaim, and there will be places for spreading their nets (Ezekiel 47:9-10).

Jesus himself tells us what this means as recorded later by Matthew.

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a dragnet that was cast into the sea and gathered some of every kind, which, when it was full, they drew to the shore; and they sat down and gathered the good into vessels, but threw the bad away. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come forth, separate the wicked from among the just and cast them into the furnace of fire. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew13:47-50).

The Greek word translated as “net” in Ezekiel and “dragnet” here in Matthew is the same σαγηνη or sagene. Who are the most famous fishermen in Scripture? They are the apostles, particularly Peter, who when directed by Jesus to cast his net, finds it is so full it is in danger of bursting (Luke 5:6).

It is Peter and his “Roman” successors who will be “fishing” by casting their nets into the torrents of Grace released from the side of Jesus who is the eternal Third Temple.

The Unde Et Memores prayer follows the elevations. The in persona Christi High Priest of the order of Melchizedek offers the Sacrificial Victim to the Father and asks him to accept it. This oblation and eternal intercessory dialogue between the Son as the high priest Melchizedek and his Father is explicitly described by St. Paul:

But He, because He continues forever, has an unchangeable priesthood. Therefore He is also able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through Him, since He always lives to make intercession for them (Hebrews 7:24-25).

Unlike the Passion, which occurred in fallen, sequential time and is re-presented at the Consecration, the eternal offering of the Son to the Father occurs only in the uncreated eternity where God dwells. Because this heavenly reality is entirely hidden from earthly sight, the words recalling it are spoken inaudibly by the priest. The only clues to what is unfolding beyond our view between the Father and the Son are the small signs of the cross—representing the wounds of the Crucifixion—that the priest signs over the gifts.

Wherefore, O Lord, we Thy servants, as also Thy holy people, calling to mind the blessed Passion of the same Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and also His Resurrection from the dead and His glorious Ascension into heaven: do offer unto Thy most excellent Majesty of Thine own gifts, bestowed upon us, a pure ✠ Victim, a holy ✠ Victim, an unspotted ✠ Victim, the holy ✠ Bread of eternal life, and the Chalice ✠ of everlasting salvation.1

The references in this prayer to a descent to the realm of the dead followed by a glorious ascension into heaven remind us of the baptism in the Jordan where Jesus descended to the depths (death) and then ascended to the surface whereupon the Holy Spirit appeared as a dove and the Father’s voice boomed, “You are my son with whom I am well pleased” (Mark 1:10-11). Of course, the Father meant, “…as a sacrifice.” This is the very moment in the Mass where Jesus enters into the yawningly wide-open heaven that opened above the Jordan. This is the true Promised Land where Jesus’s sacrifice has led us. This is the fulfillment of the Old Covenant Passover journey that began and the New Covenant journey that ended with Jesus at the Last Supper.

The prayer ends with a recitation of synonyms for the Real Presence of the incarnated Risen Christ: the pure, holy and spotless “hostiam;” “holy Bread of eternal life;” and “the Chalice of everlasting salvation.” It is the Real Presence now present in sequential time on the altar that will join each of us to the body of Christ that is eternally offered before the Father in heaven. The only way to become a member of the body of the incarnated Son and enter into the Trinity is through baptism.

For as the body is one and has many members, but all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ. For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body – whether Jews or Greeks, whether slaves or free – and have all been made to drink into one Spirit. For in fact the body is not one member but many (1 Corinthians 12:12-14).

Clearly then, our very nature has been fundamentally changed by baptism from individual mortal men to members of a supernatural glorified body. What holds us in relationship, the “glue” is the very same supernatural Relationship, the Holy Spirit, that binds together the blessed Trinity. The Holy Spirit is of course Love. Love is a self-giving relationship that can only occur between rational persons, not things.

Paul also writes, “But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection” (Colossians 3:14). In the original Greek, the word used here for love by Paul is agape (which as we have already discussed in the context of Peter’s three denials) means the perfectly self-giving love of God, not mere attraction or affection. The word he uses for bond is sundesmos, which is not the mere sticking together of things, but rather describes a uniting principle. It is also the Greek word for a ligament and a tendon which are the connective tissues that hold the bones and members of a body firmly together. He further describes agape as a “perfect” bond. The word for perfect used here is teleiotes which describes moral and spiritual perfection. We know from logic and Revelation that the bond of perfect divine love between the persons of the Trinity is the Holy Spirit.

The “ligament” holding us together as members in Christ’s glorified and supernatural body is not just any love, but the same personified supernatural Love that holds the Trinity itself together and embraces us into it. That is why baptism is an absolutely essential requirement for salvation—with no exceptions.2 Without this “one Spirit” ligament, we are not part of Christ’s body here and cannot be part of it in heaven, which is the extension, the continuation, and the perfection of our earthly lives and bodies. It is our own mortal body, just as it was Jesus’ own mortal body, that continues on and is glorified and deified.

Christ is the Tamid Lamb, who is offered to the Father perpetually, but unlike the Tamid lambs of the Old Covenant, this Lamb is resurrected and eternally ascended into the presence of the Father. So, unlike the Old Covenant Tamid lambs, there is no need to offer this Lamb over and over again each day. This spotless Victim is the single offering in eternal time forever and always. However, he is simultaneously present in time as the holy Bread and the Chalice, which is fully sacrificed when it is consumed by the priest.

Also, if the glorified Christ is present—body, blood, soul, and divinity—in both Eucharistic species, then why are they both necessary? For example, why not simply consecrate the bread into the Body, which like any other body contains blood by definition? Why are bread and wine as well as body and blood necessary? The Tamid offering of the Jerusalem Temple is a prototype. Even though there was a morning and an afternoon “sacrifice,” they were actually two components of the single daily Tamid sacrifice. The Eucharistic offering, while consisting of consecrations of two species, is still one offering. In the Jerusalem Temple, the morning sacrifice emphasized communion and allowed the people to “draw near” to God during the day. The afternoon Tamid was to preserve them from falling into sin.

The Eucharistic offering is always in the presence of the Father. The Father gazes upon the one he loves, the one with whom he is well pleased, in whose infinite depths the depravity of the human race is redeemed. In order to show this, the priest makes five signs of the cross over the sacred species in order to signify the five wounds that Christ is constantly showing to the Father. The priest in persona Christi allows us to witness this dialogue as he/Christ enters into the silence of the Holy of Holies and into the mystery of the Trinity. We have and can have nothing to add. We just watch. “Actively participating” in the internal dialogue of the Godhead by chattering and jumping up and down is absurd. In the Novus Ordo, the rubric requiring the priest to make five crosses over the sacred species is suppressed, so it is not clear exactly what is happening. As a reminder of Christ’s outstretched arms on the Cross and Christ the Son perpetually showing his wounds to the Father, the priest will hold up his hands exposing his palms when he makes prayers of supplication during the Mass. This gesture is known as the orans posture. In a vers populi Novus Ordo Mass, where the priest is facing the people rather than God in the tabernacle, who exactly is the in persona Christi priest offering his wounds to? Us? Even stranger, it has become a common practice for the Novus Ordo laity to assume the orans posture during their Mass, particularly during the Our Father. Unless they are in persona Christi priests, the gesture is presumptuous at best, a profanation at worst, but fully consonant with the Protestant “priesthood of the laity” philosophy underlying the Novus Ordo.

In the traditional Latin Mass, right after the Unde Et Memores, in the Supra Quae Propitio, we are told about the gift of Abel, the sacrifice of Abraham through the Binding of Isaac, and the sacrifice of the “accidents” of the bread and wine by Melchizedek. Whoever wrote those early words (perhaps Peter himself?) understood how the two strains of priestly sacrifice (bloody Levitical and unbloody Melchizedek) come together in the Eucharist. It is the summation and perfection of the human religious experience right before our eyes. The sacrifices of Abel, Abraham, Moses, and the Levitical priests were bloody and ended once and for all with the bloody Cross. On the other hand, the sacrifice of Melchizedek who is God’s own Son was unbloody and is part of the perpetual sacrifice demanded by the Father. Priests today are in the order of Melchizedek, but they do re-present over and over again the final, one-time bloody sacrifice of the Cross. The sacrifices at the temple in Jerusalem had to end because the unbloody re-presentation of the Passion in the Eucharist continues forever.

However, there is also a profound progression illustrated here. Abel gives a gift “from the firstborn of his flock” (Genesis 4:4). In Greek the word for firstborn used here is πρωτοτοκος or prototokos. The identical word is later used to describe Isaac as the firstborn of Abraham and Jesus as the firstborn of God. Cain sacrifices “fruits of the ground,” but not “first fruits.” Jesus is the “first fruit” and his Resurrection occurs on Easter Sunday, the Jewish holiday of the First Fruits. If Cain had brought his “first fruits” rather than just his extras, God would have been satisfied. So, we have Abel offering a “firstborn lamb.” Next, we have Abraham offering his “firstborn son.” Finally, the Father offers his own “firstborn Son.” We also see an ascending order of priesthood. The first isn’t even really a priesthood; it just offers “gifts” that are fruits of the earth and animals. Prior to the Golden Calf, the priesthood included the heads of each family. At this point in their lives, Cain did not have a family of his own and Adam was still the patriarch of his family, making him, not Cain or Abel, the only one who could rightly offer “sacrifice” in a liturgical sense, since only priests offer sacrifice. In our inaccurate English translations, the issue is obscured.

Now in the process of time Cain brought a sacrifice to the Lord from the fruits of the ground. Abel also brought a sacrifice from the first born of his flock and of their fat. The Lord respected Abel and his offering, but He did not respect Cain and his sacrifices (Genesis 4:3-5).

Cain brought a θυσια or thusia in Greek, which is exactly the word we tend to think of when we think of a “sacrifice.” It is used repeatedly throughout the Old and New Testaments to describe the sacrifices of Isaac, the Temple, of Our Lord, etc. Abel didn’t bring a “sacrifice” like Cain. The word thusia does not appear in the Greek in relation to Abel; rather, it simply says that Abel “brought forth” from his flock the firstborn of his sheep. It then says clearly that Our Lord respected Abel and his δωρον or doron, which means “gift.” As we see in the next verses, the Lord explains to Cain that he brought “rightly, but did not divide it rightly” (Genesis 4:7). However, the word translated as “divide” is αρχομαι or archomai, which means to begin or initiate, but also to give precedence, to be first, even to rule. Commentators have properly assumed that Cain did right to offer a gift but not give precedence to God by giving him the best of his produce. However, they overlook the fact that he did not have the priestly right to offer “sacrifice,” only “gifts,” and therefore there was presumption (a lack of precedence) in the way Cain offered it. In addition, cereal offerings cannot atone for sin, only bloody sacrifices. Right from the beginning, Yahweh makes it clear that it is not just the sacrifice or gift that matters, but also the way in which it is offered.

Cain’s response to the rejection was περιλυπος or perilupos, which means extreme sorrow unto death. The word is very rare in Scripture. It appears again in Psalm 42:5 to describe David’s extreme sorrow after he has been faithless, which the priest recites at the opening of the Mass. It is used to describe Jesus himself in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:38, Mark: 14:34), who must resolve to make a sacrifice of himself to the Father. It also describes the feelings of King Herod when he realizes that he has been tricked into beheading John the Baptist as an improper gift to Salome (Mark 6:26). Finally, the word captures the emotion of the rich young man whom Jesus commends for doing everything right, but who ultimately fails to enter the kingdom because he refuses to make a gift of his earthly possessions (Luke 18:23-24).

What ties these incidents together is not just sorrow, but a sorrow that fears death. Cain’s sacrifices are not only useless; Yahweh makes it clear that Cain is actually sinning when he offers them. Cain does not repent and accept forgiveness. In his pride and jealousy, Cain kills Abel, condemning himself even further. Killing and particularly suicide are sins of pride. They take away an absolutely inviolate prerogative of the Author of Life. They are the total failure of humility, to simply trust in the providence and mercy of God. That is why the Church has never allowed Requiem Masses for suicides or for suicidals to be buried in consecrated ground. Evil and good, just like oil and water, cannot mix.

Higher than worthy gifts to God is the sacrifice of worthy gifts. Higher than animal sacrifice is human sacrifice, which is what God demanded of Abraham and Isaac. And finally, there is the highest sacrifice there can be, Melchizedek offering himself, the human-Yahweh, the enfleshed Word, the true Tamid lamb, the “sanctum sacrificium, immaculatam Hostiam” or the “holy sacrifice, the spotless Victim.” The High Priest Melchizedek, or Christ and his in persona Christi priests, offers the true Tamid Lamb, the sacred and spotless “host” of the enfleshed Son of God in the Eucharistic species. It is God offering himself back to God. It is implicit that this sacrifice, just like the others, be offered “rightly,” with a proper disposition, the proper oblation, and the proper immolation. Anything else is sin and “sorrow unto death” that risks condemnation of all those participating.

The priest enters into the Holy of Holies to effect the sacrifice while we simply observe. How exactly do we participate in the Sacrifice as lay people? The answer is in the Supplices Te Rogamus prayer in the canon:

We most humbly beseech Thee, almighty God, command these offerings to be borne by the hands of Thy holy Angel to Thine altar on high, in the sight of Thy divine majesty, that as many as shall partake of the most holy Body and Blood of Thy Son at this altar, may be filled with every heavenly grace and blessing. Through the same Christ our Lord. Amen.3

First, we must participate in the Sacrifice of the priest by offering ourselves interiorly, just as Abel did. Only then can we participate exteriorly. We participate in the sacrifice after we “partake” of the body and blood of Jesus. The priest implores the angel to take the offerings to the altar of God. We become part of the sacrifice by consuming the body and blood of Christ, who is the real Sacrifice. That is why we must be present at the Mass for it to count. We are not completely passive. Not partaking of communion also means that we are not a part of the physical sacrifice. Simply receiving communion, such as communion at home for the sick, is not full participation. The host is not a religion pill where consumption is enough to receive the benefit. The priest (both human and in persona Christi) needs to include each of us in the sacrifice that is being made on the altar to God. On the other hand, as Paul emphasizes so strongly, we have to be worthy or we “'eat and drink judgment upon ourselves” (1 Corinthians 11:29).

While Abel is mentioned approvingly for his sacrifice, the unworthy sacrifice of Cain is rejected. That is why there is such an emphasis in the traditional Mass on preparation, both for the priest before he offers the sacrifice and for us who participate. If we are just spectators, it is not as important to be unspotted than it is if we are included as part of the unspotted offering ourselves. We have to be ritually pure just like in the Old Covenant. In this case, however, ritually pure means to be without serious sin, which was not possible in the Old Covenant with only animal sacrifice. Consuming unworthily is not only a profanation, but also insults God because it offers Him an unworthy sacrifice. No wonder Protestants de-emphasize the idea of sacrifice in the Mass since they do not have a valid priesthood or consecration (or even a sacrament of confession). All they can offer God is a symbol and communal good feeling. What they offer is something the Father does not want —the unworthy and illicit sacrifice of Cain, rather than the perfect and perpetual Sacrifice of the first-born Son, the Tamid Lamb.

A good question to pose here then is: am I then fulfilling my Sunday obligation to attend Mass if I do not fully participate by receiving communion? The third Commandment only requires setting aside the seventh day for God. It doesn’t require participation in a religious service. It is the Church with the authority given to her by Christ himself that requires Mass attendance.4 Full participation by receiving communion is a very good thing, but the Church does not require receiving each time, most likely due to a concern of pressuring people into receiving unworthily. If we are not prepared, we should not receive.

The Supplices Te Rogamus prayer asks the “holy Angel” to take “these offerings” to “Thy divine majesty” in heaven. Who is this angel? It is beyond comprehension that any created being, who is by definition finite, could take the infinite offering of the infinite Son to the infinite Father. There is nothing created that can perform the task of mediating between the Father and the Son. It is something so awesome that it can only be accomplished by the members of the Trinity themselves. The word “angel” means someone who is sent. We know that the “Angel of the Lord” refers to Yahweh. Therefore, it must be Christ himself who carries the sacrifice of his divinity, body, and soul into heaven (Hebrews 9:11-15). He is the one who is sent. He is the perfect messenger between God and humanity, being God and having become man. The offering of the Sacrifice can only be carried to the throne of the Father “through the same Christ our Lord” who is the “strait gate” and “narrow way.”

Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it ((Matthew 7:14).

The Greek word used to describe the “narrow” or “straitened” road in the phrase “narrow is the way” is θλιβω or thlibo, meaning to press, squeeze, crush (as grapes), or compress. Metaphorically, it denotes trouble, affliction, and distress. What Jesus is saying is that the pressed way leading through the narrow gate is a path forged through suffering — intimately linked to the “pressed grapes” of the Eucharist and Christ’s own sacrifice. This Angel of the Lord is none other than the Son of Man who is in the image of a man and is always and forever before the throne of the Ancient of Days just as in Daniel’s vision (Daniel 7:13).

This is the most profound moment possible in Creation. In the internal logic of the most fundamental reality of all, the Trinity completely offers (or sacrifices) each of themselves to the other in an act of perfect perpetual love. What is different is that in the representation of the Sacrifice of Calvary that occurs in the Mass, it is now the incarnated second Person who is perfectly offering himself to the Father. Since he is incarnated and crucified, redeemed humanity is also brought into the perfect mutual sacrifice of the Trinity. The deification of humanity is not a passive change in our state; rather it is a change into an infinitely dynamic state of being. Understanding this, attending and assisting at Mass is transformed from a feigned ritual of pseudo-conviviality into a sublime experience that surpasses human understanding. It is also easy to see why pews eventually empty out when it is the former and why they are filled when it is the latter.

When Protestants say “the Mass, “the Lord’s Supper,” or “Holy Communion” is a memorial, they mean it is a symbolic act of psychological remembrance rather than a mystical, objective sacrifice.1 To a Memorialist, the bread and wine remain strictly bread and wine; they do not undergo any change. Eating the bread and drinking the cup is no more than a prompt to stir up the memory of Christ’s historical death on the Cross. The action is an act of nostalgia. The Protestant is entirely trapped within the confines of his own mind — forced to manufacture a pious sentiment about a dead, distant past, rather than stepping into an objectively present, living reality. It is an act of looking back to a past event that is completely finished, dead, and gone.

To define the specific words of institution, the Roman Canon blends parts of Scripture from St. Luke and St. Paul.

• 1 Corinthians 11:25 (St. Paul): In the same manner He also took the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me.”

• Luke 22:19 (St. Luke): “...And he took bread, and gave thanks, and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, This is my body which is given for you: do this in remembrance of me.”

The Roman Canon expands St. Paul’s specific focus on drinking the cup into a universal sacrificial command.

For this is the chalice of my blood of the new and eternal testament, the mystery of faith; which shall be shed for you and for many for the remission of sins. As often as you do these things, you shall do them in remembrance of me.2

Liturgically, “do these things” does not just mean eating or drinking tokens or symbols. It refers explicitly to the entire action the priest just completed: the offering, blessing, and consecrating of both the bread and the wine. As Cardinal Ottaviani famously noted in the Ottaviani Intervention, switching this text in the Novus Ordo to the simpler biblical paraphrase, ”Do this in memory of me,” shifts the psychological focus for the laity from an objective command to execute the sacrificial action to a passive commemoration of a past meal.3

Jesus isn’t saying; “Remember me because I’m concerned that I will be forgotten.” No, he is saying do this in remembrance of me, which is an action. In that action, you will bring back Me. We must remember that Jesus is the Lamb of God, the only Sacrifice with which the Father is well-pleased. When John the Baptist points to Jesus and says, “Behold the Lamb of God,” he uses the same Greek word for lamb that is used in the Old Testament to denote the Tamid lamb (which is αμνος or amnos), not the lamb or kid of the Passover sacrifice which is a completely different word (προβατιον or probaton). Once again, poor vernacular translations obscure an important truth. John is calling out Jesus as the Tamid Lamb that was, is being, and will be sacrificed perpetually for our sins each day. It is this perpetually bleeding amnos which the apostle John sees in his Revelation of heaven. The probaton of Passover is never even mentioned.4

The actual word that Jesus uses for “remembrance” as recorded by Luke and Paul is anamnesis. In classical Platonic philosophy, it is the recalling of an actual thing from a perfect reality into our imperfect current reality. A more appropriate term could not have been chosen by our Lord to describe the idea of re-presenting his perfect Sacrifice now eternally existing in heaven into our imperfect current reality through the medium of the Mass. Anamnesis also occurs in the book of Leviticus in relation to the Old Covenant Bread of the Presence.

“You shall set them as two deposits, six loaves in each deposit, on the pure table before the Lord. Then you shall put pure frankincense and salt on each deposit, that it may be on the bread for a memorial (anamnesis) offering to the Lord. Every Sabbath day it shall be placed before the Lord continually, in the presence of the children of Israel by an everlasting covenant. It shall be for Aaron and his sons, and they shall eat these things in a holy place; for this is most holy to him from the things sacrificed to the Lord, as a perpetual ordinance” (Leviticus 24:6-9).

The Bread of the Presence is the foreshadowing of the Presence of God in the Eucharist. Aaron is the High Priest and he and his descendants are to offer and then eat the Bread of God in a proper “holy place” forever. Of course, this is what the in persona Christi High Priest does during the Mass in the sanctuary of every Catholic Church. Any spiritual graces received due to Old Covenant practices could only happen because of graces pre-merited by the Passion to come. The Old Covenant High Priest was unknowingly “re-presenting” the future Sacrifice on the Cross, but he in a very real sense was actually “pre-presenting” that very same Sacrifice. The Word elegantly draws our attention to this connection by using the same unusual word (anamnesis) in both contexts, in the Old Testament as Yahweh and in the New as Jesus Christ.

The traditional Latin rite moves directly from the Hanc Igitur — where the priest spreads his hands over the host and chalice to lay the sins of the world upon the Victim who willingly accepts them at the instant the sanctus bells sound—into the absolute, sovereign command of the Words of Institution, where the Sacrifice is re-presented. As the Council of Trent definitively declared, transubstantiation occurs instantaneously at the exact moment those words are completed.

The actions of the Mass, particularly the re-presentation of the Sacrifice in the Canon, are not just poetic and theological speculations. They can be explained very neatly in the context of contemporary physics. The Mass is not play-acting — it is as real as it gets. This sudden, total metaphysical shift is best explained by contemporary spacetime physics through Einstein’s theory of the Block Universe.5 In this scientific framework, time does not pass or disappear; instead, the past, present, and future all coexist simultaneously as a fixed, permanent four-dimensional block of reality. What humans perceive as “the past” is never truly gone; it is simply located at a different, permanent coordinate in the fabric of the universe. Within this model, the historical crucifixion of Jesus Christ at Calvary in AD 33 is an indelible, un-erasable geometric anchor point etched forever into cosmic reality. This is precisely why the Block Universe theory explains the Greek concept of anamnesis so brilliantly. When Jesus commanded Paul and the Apostles to “do this in anamnesis of me,” he was not calling for a passive, psychological act of looking backward at a dead memory. He was commanding an active making-present of an eternal reality. The miracle is not the eternal reality of the event, it is the “time-shift” that allows it to be re-presented to us sitting in the pews. When the priest pronounces the words of consecration at the altar, the Mass operates as a non-local bridge across the space-time block. It does not repeat or “re-sacrifice” Christ. Rather, it completely collapses the temporal distance, folding the block over on itself so that the local spacetime coordinate of the altar is instantly overwritten by the permanent coordinate of Calvary. The congregation is lifted out of their narrow temporal sequence to step directly into the one, unchanging moment where the Lamb is forever offered. The miracle of the Mass, is really one of time. This amazing feat is accomplished by the enfleshed God working through the person of the priest. But how does he do it?

Over the past century, a revolution in science and technology transformed “information” from an abstract concept into the defining feature of our age — so much so, that we can properly think of ourselves as living in the “Information Age.” All of physical reality is nothing more than information, i.e., ideas and relationships. There are no itty-bitty billiard balls making up “matter” as previously thought. Information has a separate reality from the media (i.e., physical objects) that embodies it. However, ideas are non-material. We know from their effects that ideas are very real indeed — yet ideas can only exist in a mind. If the “physical” universe as we experience it ceased to exist tomorrow, the laws of gravity, the number five, would continue to exist somewhere. The Mind that created everything and sustains it (though it has a separate existence of its own) is God.6

For in him we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28).

He is before all things, and in him all things hold together (Colossians 1:17).

“Can a man hide himself in secret places so that I cannot see him?” declares the Lord. “Do I not fill heaven and earth?” (Jeremiah 23:24).

With a simple act of the will he can change the reality of anything and everything that he wants because he created everything and keeps it in existence. In the Mass, he brings the reality of the permanent spacetime coordinate of Calvary into our present existence.7

The Block Universe framework is deeply consistent with traditional Christian metaphysics, particularly the classical Thomistic and Boethian understanding of divine eternity. In orthodox theology, God does not inhabit a sequence of passing moments; rather, He exists outside of time entirely, beholding the whole of creation—past, present, and future—in a single, unchanging eternal glance. Because the Block Universe models time as a completed four-dimensional object where all points in history coexist simultaneously, it provides a precise scientific language for this divine perspective. Furthermore, this model elegantly explains the apparent “time travel” and temporal anomalies woven throughout Sacred Scripture.

For instance, the mysterious Old Testament theophanies—such as Abraham meeting “Melchizedek,” Jacob wrestling the angel, or Moses beholding the burning bush—are often understood in patristic theology as pre-incarnate appearances of the Second Person of the Trinity (Christophanies). In a fluid, linear view of time, a pre-incarnate appearance is a logical paradox; however, within a static Block Universe, the Incarnation is a permanent, fixed reality at its specific coordinates. Because God operates from outside the block, the historical, flesh-and-blood reality of Christ can be non-locally projected or accessed at an earlier chronological coordinate.

The same mechanics explain other biblical instances of temporal dislocation, such as the Transfiguration, where Moses and Elijah physically appear alongside Christ on Mount Tabor centuries after their earthly deaths, or the prophetic visions of Ezekiel and St. John the Evangelist. John is not merely guessing a fluid future; he is being lifted out of his local timeline by the Holy Spirit to view a future coordinate of the block that already exists in the divine gaze.8 Far from violating traditional metaphysics, the Block Universe demonstrates that what humans perceive as miraculous chronological displacements are simply instances of the Creator utilizing the full, interconnected landscape of his completed masterpiece. There is nothing happening in the Mass that cannot be easily explained by mainstream philosophical and scientific concepts.The priest has opened heaven and stepped into the infinite Block Universe at the Orate Fratres and this is what is found there. It is because of the Fall that death and sin (which are disintegration) enter the world. However, time also “falls” and disintegrates from the perfect eternal time as experienced by God and Adam to the sequential fallen time that fallen beings in a fallen world have experienced since. Christ, as much as anything else, is the Redeemer of Time and it is this miraculous “redeemed time” that we experience during the Mass.

The other most common theory of time today is the “Growing Block Universe.” It differs from the static Block Universe in three fundamental ways. In a static block, the future already exists as a fixed, permanent coordinate. In a growing block, the future is a completely empty, unwritten void. In a static block, time is an unmoving, four-dimensional tapestry. In a growing block, time is a dynamic, creative process that continuously accumulates new reality. In a static block, the “present” is just a subjective human illusion. In a growing block, the present is the active, shifting frontier where new history physically crystallizes into existence. The growing block is inconsistent with Christian theology because it means that God is a mutable being just waiting around to find out what the future holds just like the rest of us.9

There is a profound irony here. Adherents to the Growing Block Universe theory have long scrambled to build complex models that preserve a moving, fluid timeline, largely to satisfy the human illusion that the past is gone and the future is an unwritten void. Yet, had they listened to the Queen of Heaven at Quito, they might have avoided decades of theoretical detour. When the Virgin Mary declared that death is a “great leap from time to eternity,” she revealed time to be a rigid, dimensional boundary rather than an unwritten, evolving stream.10

Quantum information theory has amply vindicated this mystical framework. By demonstrating that the thermodynamic arrow of time can be manipulated, bypassed, and even reversed on subatomic scales, modern laboratory experiments are proving that time is not a one-way conveyor belt.11 If quantum data can retrace its steps and exist symmetrically across past and present coordinates, then the rigid, static Block Universe is not a cold, dead fatalism, but a beautifully completed tapestry. Science is finally discovering the mechanics of what the ancient Liturgy has always done: treating time not as an unalterable river, but as a local landscape that the Creator can fold at will, allowing the human soul to leap safely into the permanent reality of the Eternal.

Seen with the eyes of faith, the Elevation of the Host puts before our eyes Christ’s body being “lifted up” (John 12:34) and hung on the Cross as the skewered Tamid lamb. The Jerusalem Temple priests caught the blood of the Tamid lambs in a golden cup and poured it out at the foot of the altar outside the Holy of Holies. In the New Covenant, it is the body and blood of the true eternal Tamid lamb given once and for all and re-presented on the altar at each Mass.

8

For a discussion of the living prophet Habakkuk’s incredible time travel to bring the living prophet Daniel stew from a century in the past and hundreds of miles away to Daniel in prison in Babylon, see here.

When he begins the words of consecration, the priest lifts his eyes to the Father in imitation of Jesus, who raised his eyes to heaven prior to the miracle of the multiplication of loaves (Matthew 14). These are the only words in the Consecration that do not come from a description of the Last Supper. But, according to Protestants and Novus Ordo Catholics, isn’t the Mass just a replay of the Last Supper? If so, why are words calling to mind another event placed in such a conspicuous place just prior to the most solemn moment of the Mass? The Multiplication of the Loaves preceded the Last Supper. However, theologically, recalling the Multiplication of the Loaves demonstrates the incarnate God’s sovereign ability to multiply an object without limit — more specifically, to nourish both our bodies and our souls without limit. He will perform a similar multiplication without limit of his own glorified body each time a host is consecrated.

After he lowers his eyes, the in persona Christi priest bows his head in todah or thanksgiving. He places his elbows on the altar, just as Jesus and the apostles did at the Last Supper. The old rabbis taught that only slaves eat standing up. Free men eat while recumbent, sitting, or leaning; certainly, the sons of a King should eat reclined. It was preferred to eat the whole Paschal meal recumbent, but the rabbis insisted that particularly the bread and the wine should be eaten this way, including by the poorest and most afflicted among them. The left elbow was placed on the table, while the right was free to use. This explains how John could be described as leaning back on Jesus’ “bosom” or “breast” when Peter nodded to John to ask Jesus who would betray him (John 13: 23-25).

The words of consecration are now whispered over each of the gifts by the in persona Christi priest, who is Yahweh the High Priest of the order of Melchizedek, the same person who walked with Adam, visited Abraham, wrestled Jacob, joined Daniel’s friends in the fiery furnace, was born of the Virgin Mary, guided Joseph and the Holy Family to Egypt, stood before the Apostles at the Last Supper, descended to Sheol, resurrected on the third day, challenged Peter to follow him on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, and will meet each of us at the moment of our deaths. The in persona Melchizedek priest whispers because this is the Son speaking to the Father within the intimate confines of the Trinity. It is the Son who now transforms bread and wine to make his offering of body and blood, soul and divinity to the Father. The staying of Abraham’s arm over Isaac and thousands of years of Tamid offerings of lambs, bread and wine at the Jerusalem Temple have all led to this moment where Christ transforms the bread and wine into Himself. Heaven is open and we witness the Sacrifice of Calvary forever and always outside of time.

At the Last Supper, Jesus does not specifically invoke the Holy Spirit. Nor does the priest at the Mass say “This is Jesus’s body.” Rather he takes on the personhood of Jesus and says, “This is my body” (Hoc est enim corpus meum). At that precise instant, the priest lends his person to Jesus. It is Jesus himself who speaks the words and performs the miracle, mirroring the Last Supper exactly.

This teaching is summarized by St. John Chrysostom,

“It is not man who makes the sacrificial gifts become the Body and Blood of Christ, but He Himself who was crucified for us, Christ. The priest stands there carrying out the actions and pronouncing the words, but the power and grace are of God. ‘This is my body,’ he says. This word transforms the gifts.”1

Because the traditional Roman Canon views the Words of Christ as carrying inherent, divine power, scholastic theologians argued that transubstantiation happens instantly when the final syllable of the formula is uttered.2 The Council of Trent also explicitly supported the view that transubstantiation is effected explicitly by the words of institution spoken by Christ at the Last Supper.3 By defining that transubstantiation happens “immediately after the consecration” (the pronunciation of Christ’s words), Trent solidified the traditional Western theology that no further post- prayers or invocations (like an epiclesis) are required to complete the change.4

So while God always functions as a Trinity of Persons, the traditional Mass explicitly frames the consecration as a direct, powerful reenactment where Christ Himself acts as both the High Priest and the Victim. This is represented by the priest keeping his thumbs and forefingers joined after the consecration.5

The Old Testament Jews ate the flesh of an animal that had been presented and consecrated as an offering to the Lord. This signified that all was well in the relationship between the Lord and his people.

This is the law of the sacrifice of the peace offering, which he shall offer to the Lord: If he should offer it for a thanksgiving, he shall offer with the sacrifice of thanksgiving loaves of fine flour mixed with oil, and unleavened cakes smeared with oil, and fine flour kneaded with oil. Besides the unleavened loaves, he shall offer with his gifts leavened bread with the sacrifice of thanksgiving of his peace offering. Then from all his gifts he shall offer one choice portion to the Lord. It shall belong to the priest who pours out the blood of the peace offering. The flesh of the sacrifice of his peace offering for thanksgiving shall be eaten the same day it is offered. He shall not leave any of it until morning (Leviticus 7:11-15).

The offering of the bread and its consumption by the priest and the people demonstrates that Christ and his people are joined into one body. The Lamb is not only a Sacrifice, but he also gives us his living flesh to eat so that we too can live.

Everyone in the sanctuary bows to the ground when the priest elevates the host above a cloud of incense. Our prayers rise to heaven like the burnt offerings from the Jerusalem Temple.

Originally it was called the olat ha-tamid (Exodus 29:.42) and later simply ha-tamid (Daniel 8: 11-13). The Hebrew word tamid means "standing," as in "perpetual" or "continual," and the Hebrew word olat is from the Hebrew verb "l-h" (olah), meaning "to go up," or "to ascend." It is the distinguishing visible feature of all altar sacrifices in the ascending smoke rising up to Heaven.6

The ancient Tamid offering is perfected and fulfilled at the Ascension. The Incarnation, wholly oblated and immolated, enters into the Trinity. Humanity is deified, as is each individual person who is joined with Christ and is part of his mystical body.

After the words of consecration, the priest genuflects. The Transubstantiation has occurred and he is now holding and looking at the actual Body of Christ. After the Elevation, the traditional priest genuflects again. The Novus Ordo priest does not genuflect after the words of consecration, only after the Elevation. The deletion of the first genuflection, made by Novus Ordo liturgical reformers, obscures the reality of the Real Presence. Protestants believe the Real Presence is among the people, not in the bread and wine; in this understanding, the words of consecration have not changed any reality of the bread and wine. In the Catholic Mass, the Elevation is only done to let the people see the sacred species. Nothing actually happens to the substance of the offering just because it is raised up for all to see. Genuflection after the Elevation gives the impression that showing the host to the people has effected a change in the host and further implies that participation by the people is somehow involved in this change. The same deletion was made in the Novus Ordo at the words of consecration and the transubstantiation of the wine into Christ’s blood.

The Passover ritual was meant to “re-present” the historical Passover in Egypt. Jewish fathers tell the story at the table as if they had been there. The Passover meal was of course a sacrifice. If the lamb was not consumed, the sacrifice was not complete and was invalid. In the Exodus account, the Jews were killed by the angel of death if they did not eat the sacrifice, even if they had smeared the doorposts with blood. Jesus is the perfect Sacrifice who completes all sacrifices, including the Passover sacrifice. According to the Mishnah (Pesachim) and first-century historical accounts, Jewish families or representatives brought a living, unblemished lamb into the Temple courtyard. They were slaughtered inside the Temple gates, their blood was poured at the base of the altar by the priests, and the carcass was handed back to the family. Exodus 12:9 explicitly commands that the Passover lamb must be roasted whole over fire, never boiled in water. Exodus 12:46 forbids breaking any of the lamb’s bones. Because they could not cut the animal into pieces, it had to be kept completely upright and rigid so the interior would cook thoroughly without touching the sides of the earthenware ovens. To accomplish this, ancient Jews used skewers made of pomegranate wood. The process is described by St. Justin Martyr,

And that lamb which was commanded to be wholly roasted was a symbol of the suffering of the cross which Christ would undergo. For the lamb, which is roasted, is roasted and dressed in the form of the cross. For one spit is transfixed right through from the lower parts up to the head, and one across the back, to which are attached the legs of the lamb.7

This method created a literal cross shape, making the animal resemble a crucified figure while roasting over the fire pits of Jerusalem. The Passover lamb saved the Jews from death in pagan Egypt, just as Jesus saves us from eternal death. The Passover lamb and Jesus had none of their bones broken. The Jews escaped the slavery of Egypt, while Jesus allows us to escape the slavery of sin.

Yet at the same time, as long as his Chosen People offer the daily Tamid sacrifice, which for us is the Mass, we will remain his Chosen People.

A fire shall be kindled before Him, And there shall be a mighty storm round about Him. He shall summon heaven above And the earth to judge His people; Gather His holy ones to Him, Who establish His covenant upon sacrifices; And the heavens declare His righteousness (Psalm 49:3-6).

Bread and wine are separately consecrated because the blood is separated from the body at the crucifixion and death of Jesus. They are brought together again in his resurrection represented in the Fraction.

The words of consecration of the wine are structured differently than the words of consecration for the bread. Wine is fitting matter for transubstantiation into blood since it is the “blood of the grapes” (Deuteronomy 32:14). Jesus says, “Take and drink ye all of this, for this is the chalice of my blood of the new and eternal covenant.” Covenant meals are of course eaten and the finest meals are always eaten with the finest wines.8 Eating the sacrifice joins the partakers of the covenant, making them one. This is the New Covenant sacrifice and meal. In the Old Testament, the grain and drink offerings were a significant part of the daily sacrificial rituals. It was specifically legislated that libations along with grain offerings should accompany any burnt or peace offering (Numbers 15:1-5 ). Since a peace offering in the form of the bread has just been offered by our Lord, it is now time for the accompanying drink or libation offering. Jesus makes clear that his blood is primarily a sin offering when he adds the words, “…which shall be shed for you and for many unto the remission of sins.”

Those who are familiar with Scripture will notice that the words of consecration are slightly different from any of the individual Scriptural accounts of the Last Supper offered by Matthew, Mark, Luke, or Paul. The Mass instead contains elements of the various accounts. The earliest New Testament books are Paul’s epistles written in the 50s A.D., two decades after Jesus’ death. The gospels and Acts were written around the same time or after. The epistles and Acts mention “Eucharistic meals,” so it is clear the Mass was already occurring and preceded the books of the New Testament. If anything, the descriptions of the Last Supper in the Scriptures were influenced by the Mass which everyone was already attending, not the other way around. The Mass represented the most important part of the great oral tradition of the Church, carefully handed down from generation to generation and not formally written down for centuries. The consecration formula in the Mass is yet another demonstration of the falsity of the Sola Scriptura doctrine, since Tradition clearly existed and preceded any canonical books which were themselves judged against the standard of received Tradition. The slight variations between the accounts also demonstrate that the consecration is not a magical incantation where absolute precision of formulas is required down to the last jot and tittle — like voodoo. Rather, as long as the in persona Christi priest has the proper intention and follows the proper form to confect the Eucharist, God consciously and freely supplies the rest. God honors every one of his promises, but he cannot be compelled. That would not be consistent with his absolute sovereignty.

Sin sacrifices were eaten by the priests (Leviticus 6: 17-19); communion sacrifices, which re-established peace with God, were also eaten by the people. This makes perfect sense, since it is exclusively priests who offer sacrifices for the forgiveness of sins. In the Old Covenant, the Levitical priests, who were simply forerunners, offered animals. In the New Covenant, Catholic Priests, who are the in persona Christi priests of the Order of Melchizedek, offer the human body of Jesus. In a covenant or communion sacrifice, the parties to the covenant consumed the meal but not necessarily a priest unless he was himself entering into the covenant. The communion sacrifices to God were “thanksgiving loaves of fine flour mixed with oil, and unleavened cakes smeared with oil, and fine flour kneaded with oil” (Leviticus 7:11). The communion sacrifices were consumed in a sacred meal in the Presence of God. Prior to Vatican II, the Church therefore only distributed the “communion offering” of the bread/ body to the people while only the priest consumed the “sin offering” of the wine/blood. The post-Vatican II practice of offering communion to the laity under both species obscures the unique role of the priest (Christ) who makes the offering on behalf of the people, not the people on behalf of themselves.

Sacrificial blood has several related purposes in God’s salvific plan. Since blood is associated with life, it replaces the loss of life (and existence). God is associated with blood since he is the source of all Life and Yahweh as Jesus is particularly associated with blood since he is God incarnated with an actual physical body vivified by blood. Blood is the chief means or sign of making or renewing a solemn covenant. The mingling of blood is the union of lives. Blood is used for purification as it replaces the life or existence that is lost when something becomes corrupt or impure. It also establishes fellowship with God, who is the source of all Life. It is the chief means for the expiation of sins. We see all of these aspects abundantly in the Old Covenant sacrifices, which were so numerous that the Kidron Valley next to the Temple ran red. In the words of institution of the wine, Jesus makes clear that his blood serves all of these purposes, for it is the “Blood of the new covenant.” But in particular, he makes clear he is the atoning Tamid sacrifice whose Blood “shall be shed for you and for many for the remission of sins.” Atonement for sins purifies, but it also re-establishes fellowship with God and brings new life.

In addition, blood explicitly represents kinship. Being of the “same blood” means being part of the same family. When the incarnated Second Person of Jesus offers his human blood to the Father, he is also offering his human family to the Father. Blood is poured out, but its pouring out also binds together. We are one in Christ’s body.

Everything that follows the opening of heaven at the Orate Fratres are the actual events occurring in the Holy of Holies in eternal time that we observe from our pews. To demonstrate that we are moving into a supernatural dimension, the choirs of angels are shown to us at the Sanctus. The betrayal of Jesus by Judas in sequential time is now an unalterable event in eternal time and serves as a precondition for the glorious events to follow.

We therefore humbly pray and beseech Thee, O most merciful Father, through Jesus Christ Thy Son, our Lord.1

The inclusion of the words “Our Lord” is important here. The inspired authors of the liturgical text could just as easily have prayed directly to the Father, or simply to the Father and to the Son, but instead pray to “Jesus Christ Thy Son, Our Lord.” This corrects and fulfills Judas’s words at the Last Supper, where all of the other disciples refer to Jesus as Kyrios—meaning both Yahweh and “Lord”—while Judas alone refers to him as “Rabbi” or “Teacher” (Matthew 26:22–25). Judas cannot bring himself to acknowledge Jesus’s divine Lordship over him. Judas leaves the banquet to betray Christ, but we in the pews acknowledge Jesus as Yahweh and Lord. We will stay, not only through the Last Supper, but through the re-presentation of everything that is to follow, including the Passion, Resurrection, and Ascension.

There is another specific and emphatic reference to Jesus Christ as “Lord” in the Canon. It occurs just before the priest rests his elbows on the table of the Last Supper to say the words of consecration.

Which oblation do Thou, O God, vouchsafe in all things to bless approve, ratify, make worthy and acceptable: that it may become for us the Body and Blood of Thy most beloved Son our Lord Jesus Christ.2

Once again, the text of the Mass emphasizes that Jesus Christ is Lord, not merely a great teacher or prophet. At the ultimate Eucharistic moment, Judas rejects both Christ's Lordship and His Real Presence. This rejection mirrors the earlier Bread of Life discourse, where Jesus labels Judas “a devil” (John 6:70-71). At the Last Supper—where Jesus binds Old and New Covenant threads together during the first Consecration—Judas watches, intent only on his exit and money. What is striking about Judas is his smallness and mediocrity—the personification of the pettiness within us all. Unlike historic figures of grand political or religious upheaval, from Luther to Lenin, or the grandiosity found in many flamboyantly depraved people, Judas is remarkable for being an absolute nobody — a total cipher. He plays no role in the Gospels outside of his betrayal, leaving behind no record of family or talent. His only power is negation. It is fitting that it takes his deep mediocrity to attempt the negation of Jesus’ sublime majesty as the incarnated Son of God.

The final preparations for the Consecration hearken back to the Old Testament Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), when the High Priest entered the Holy of Holies to atone for the sins of all Israel. The high priest made a sin offering by sacrificing a young bull and a ram. He took glowing coals from the altar of incense into the Holy of Holies and filled the air with a cloud. In a high Mass, the sanctuary will be filled with a cloud of incense. The blood of the bull was sprinkled on the mercy seat and before the Ark of the Covenant. When he left the Holy of Holies, the High Priest sprinkled the remaining blood on the people to represent their renewal.

The high priest then cast lots to choose between two live goats. One was killed as a sin offering for the people. Its blood was added to the blood already sprinkled inside the Holy of Holies. The high priest placed his hands on the head of the live goat and laid the sins of the people upon it.

When Aaron shall finish making atonement in the holy place, the tabernacle of testimony and the altar, and shall also cleanse matters concerning the priests, then he shall bring the living kid. Aaron shall place his hands on the heads of the living kid, confess over it all the transgressions of the children of Israel, and all their lawlessness, and all their sins; and he shall put them on the head of the living kid (Leviticus 16:20-21).

The goat was carried outside Jerusalem and driven into the wilderness to carry away the sins of the people and eventually driven off of a cliff and killed.

Even in routine sin offerings brought by the people to the Temple to be sacrificed by the priests, the offeror placed his hands on the animal to lay his sins upon it. At the Hanc Igitur, the priest in the Mass spreads his hands over the gifts of bread and wine in order to lay our sins upon the sacrificial victim, which is the transubstantiated body and blood of Christ. He asks God to accept our oblation in order to deliver us from eternal damnation;

This oblation, therefore, of our service and that of Thy whole family, we beseech Thee, O Lord, graciously to accept, and to order our days in Thy peace and bid us to be delivered from eternal damnation and numbered among the flock of Thy elect. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.3

All of this will be accomplished “through Christ Our Lord.” The morning Tamid sacrifice in particular was associated with the confession and laying of sins onto the sacrificial lamb. The afternoon Tamid lamb was intended to bring the people and God into close fellowship and prevent them from falling into sin.

The Novus Ordo features a menu of Eucharistic Prayers for the celebrant to choose from. In the traditional Mass, there is only one — that is why it is called the “Roman Canon,” meaning the most sacred, unchangeable, and central prayer of the Eucharistic service of the Roman Church directly established by Christ himself and entrusted to Peter and his successors. It is the definitive prayer during which the bread and wine are consecrated and become the Body and Blood of Christ. The name “canon” here retains its Greek root meaning of “a fixed rule or standard.”4 Unlike the parts of the Mass that change based on the calendar or season, this prayer remains fixed and unalterable.5

In the traditional Latin Mass, the priest recites the Canon in a whisper or total silence. This reverence signifies the profound mystery, awe, and solemnity of entering the Holy of Holies. Prior to the liturgical reforms of Vatican II, the Western Church quite logically relied on a single Canon. In the post-conciliar era, thirteen officially approved “Canons”—renamed “Eucharistic Prayers”—have been introduced. Among these are three designated for children's Masses and one structured around the theme, “Jesus, Who Went About Doing Good.”6

In the Novus Ordo, the most popular “canon” is Eucharistic Prayer II. Not surprisingly, it is the shortest option—perfectly optimized for the streamlined “express” Masses favored by today's busy Catholics. In this Eucharistic Prayer, while laying his hands over the gifts, instead of laying our sins on the Sacrificial Victim, the priest instead calls down the “Spirit like the dewfall” on the gifts and asks that they “become for us the body and blood” of Christ. There is no mention of sin or sacrificial victims. Yet, the only purpose of transubstantiation in the Mass is in St. Paul’s words, “to have something to offer” the Father in atonement for our sins. Without an actual transubstantiation, without the flesh and blood of Christ, we have nothing to offer of particular interest to the Father, certainly nothing that remits sins. Since the sacrifice on the altar is unbloody, we have even less to offer than the Jews at the Jerusalem Temple, who could at least temporarily “cover” their sins through bloody animal sacrifice.

When the Novus Ordo priest extends his hands over the offerings and prays for the Spirit to come “like the dewfall,” it isolates this moment as an explicit epiclesis — the invocation of the Holy Spirit to bless the gifts. The ancient Roman Canon of the Traditional Latin Mass, lacks this explicit invocation of the Holy Spirit; instead, it features an implicit pre-consecratory invocation in the Quam oblationem prayer,

Which oblation do Thou, O God, vouchsafe in all things to bless, approve, ratify, make worthy, and acceptable: that it may become for us the Body and Blood of Thy most beloved Son our Lord, Jesus Christ.7

There is also an implicit invocation of the Holy Spirit in an offertory prayer to the Sanctifier (Veni, sanctificator),

Come, O Sanctifier, almighty and eternal God, and bless this sacrifice prepared for Thy holy name.8

Conversely, the novel post-Vatican II Eucharistic Prayers contain a confusing explicit, distinct split-epiclesis structure: a prominent pre-consecratory epiclesis invoking the Holy Spirit directly upon the gifts (accompanied by the epiclesis gesture of outstretched hands), followed by a post-consecratory epiclesis petitioning for the sanctification of the communicants9:

“Humbly we pray that, partaking of the Body and Blood of Christ, we may be gathered into one by the Holy Spirit.”10

The Council of Trent taught that transubstantiation occurs through the words of institution (the consecration) spoken by a validly ordained priest.11 Further, Trent warns that denying this “singular conversion” of substances results in anathema.12 This teaching comes directly from Scripture, where Jesus himself explicitly says at the Last Supper, “This is my body” as described in the three Synoptic Gospels and in Saint Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians.13

As part of post-Vatican II ecumenical efforts to appease the Eastern Churches14, this explicit epiclesis was introduced into the Novus Ordo, creating liturgical confusion over the exact moment of Consecration.

It is unfortunate that this change was made at the expense of one of the most vivid connections between the old Jerusalem Temple liturgy and the Catholic Mass. It is also one of the most explicit expressions of what the Catholic faith is: a sacrificial cult offering of God back to God in atonement for our sins. The main difference between Old Covenant Jews and New Covenant Catholics is that the Jews only had animal offerings to “cover” their sins, while Catholics possess an effective offering with which the Father is “well-pleased.” Protestants, by contrast, have no sacrifice to offer that the Father actually desires; they only have what they have decided of their own accord to favor him with. In an effort to ingratiate themselves with apostates and heretics, the architects of the Novus Ordo suppressed the element of Sacrifice in the Mass so effectively that most modern Catholics would be hard-pressed to identify the Mass as a sacrifice.15

Symbolic trumpets sound when the sanctus bells are rung at the moment the High Priest lays our sins upon the offerings and they are accepted. This is the fulfillment of thousands of years of laying sins upon animal sacrifices, yet most people even in the pews do not even recognize what is occurring, even with the underscoring by the bells. As Paul explicitly says, Old Covenant sacrifices were not effective — their only purpose was as “reminders.”

But in those sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. For it is not possible that the blood of bulls and goats could take away sins (Hebrews 10:3-4).

Animals have no free will and their sacrifice is involuntary. In the Mass, the successful laying of the sins upon the Sacrifice is marked by his voluntary acceptance of the Cross.

And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified (Hebrews 10:11-14).16

In the traditional Mass, everything has been fulfilled and forever changed. That is why the bells ring and the trumpets sound. This is the core of the salvation epic from the Incarnation to the Ascension. Epiclesis serves no salvific purpose if there is no laying on and acceptance of sins by the Victim. It is redemption of our sins that opens heaven and allows us to enter. This is explicit in the Roman Canon where it says,

This oblation, therefore, of our service and that of Thy whole family, we beseech Thee, O Lord, graciously to accept, and to order our days in Thy peace and bid us to be delivered from eternal damnation and numbered among the flock of They elect. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.17

“Our service” refers specifically to the sacrificial ministry of the in persona Christi priest and the clergy assisting him at the altar. The phrase separates the clergy from the laity: “this oblation of our service (the clergy), and that of Thy whole family (the congregation).” It acknowledges that the priest is acting as a literal servant or minister of God, duty-bound to offer the Holy Sacrifice on behalf of the people.

When the priest speaks these words, he flattens his hands over the top of the chalice and host with his thumbs crossed. The priest makes several signs of the cross over the oblations. These crosses occur in several places in the liturgy and have unique meanings in their contexts. Making signs of the cross over offerings was also common in Jerusalem Temple liturgy, though the Levitical priests could not have had a clear understanding of what they were prefiguring. A good example of this would be “the lifting and waving” of certain Old Testament sacrifices, particularly peace and thank offerings. The Levitical priest put his hands under those of the offeror, and moved the sacrifice upwards and downwards, right and left and also forwards and backwards. Due to the importance of the sin-offering, the blood was applied to the four horns of the altar of burnt-offering. Of course, the cross has four corners as well. While we do not apply blood in a sign of the Cross, holy water or chrism oil are often used as an echo of this practice. The application of blessed oil by the Levitical priests to the faithful was also common, for example, during the purification offerings of lepers and during an individual’s trespass offering (Leviticus 14).18

The purpose of all this is clear: to live with God forever, “to order our days in Thy peace and bid us to be delivered from eternal damnation and numbered among the flock of Thy elect.” This is accomplished by Christ by accepting the burden of our sins at the Hanc Igitur and offering himself to the Father on the Cross at the Consecration. Thus, the prayer concludes with the phrase, “Through Christ our Lord.”

Amen.19

6

And they sought to lay hands on Him, but feared the multitude, for they knew He had spoken the parable against them. So they left Him and went away. Then they sent to Him some of the Pharisees and the Herodians, to catch Him in His words. When they had come, they said to Him, “Teacher, we know that You are true, and care about no one; for You do not regard the person of men, but teach the way of God in truth. Is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar, or not? “Shall we pay, or shall we not pay?” But He, knowing their hypocrisy, said to them, “Why do you test Me? Bring Me a denarius that I may see it .” So they brought it. And He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?” They said to Him, “Caesar’s.” And Jesus answered and said to them, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” And they marveled at Him (Mark 12:12-17).

Everyone is familiar with the “Give unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” Bible verse. Lazy interpreters cite this verse as a commandment to keep church and state separate. What nonsense. Pretending that Jesus and his Church cannot make claims upon civil society and should only be relegated to church on Sundays is playing directly into the hands of those who want to drive the sovereign God completely out of our lives, not just the public square.1

Jesus makes the famous remark while teaching and confronting the Jewish leaders. He has just preached to the “multitude” parables about mistreating and killing God’s messengers and about who enters the kingdom of God. At this point in history, Jewish leadership is completely corrupt. The Pharisees claim strict adherence to the law, but they are hypocrites. In reality, they are primarily interested in money and political power. They have completely subjugated themselves to pagan Rome. The other corrupt authority is Herod and his dynasty, who are illegitimate puppet kings of Rome. Because he was not really a Jew, Herod went to great lengths to demonstrate his bona fides and awe the people by engaging in great public works, particularly the building of Herod’s Temple, one of the great wonders of the ancient world. In Jesus’ time it was still under construction. Jesus’s very existence as the Messiah (and true King of the Jews) is a threat to the Pharisees and Herodians. They cannot legally execute a man, so they need to find a way to trick Jesus into saying or doing something that will run afoul of Roman law. In Mark 12 (also paralleled in Matthew 22 and Luke 20), the Pharisees and the Herodians set a trap for Jesus. They attempt to induce Jesus to say something that is disloyal to Rome, the occupying and illegitimate pagan power. They ask him if it is “lawful to pay tribute to Caesar,” hoping to catch him either defying Rome if he says no or exposing him as a hypocrite and thus costing him popular support if he says yes.

Jesus is direct but at the same time infinitely subtle in the way he communicates. Every detail is meaningful. In response, Jesus asks them to show him the coin used to pay the tribute. He then asks them, “Whose image and inscription is this?” They respond, “Caesar’s.” Then Jesus says, “Render therefore to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.” The evangelists record that “the Pharisees marveled” at his response. If Jesus had simply slipped their trap, you’d think they’d be disappointed and irritated, not marveling. Once again, the translations obscure the original meaning. In the original Greek, Jesus specifically asks for a denarius, the exact type of coin used to pay the tribute, not just for a “penny” or a “coin” as we see in most vernacular translations. Why is Jesus so specific? The inscription on the denarius “tribute coin” Jesus was given says it all, “Caesar Augustus Tiberius, son of the Divine Augustus.”

The Roman senate had earlier declared Caesar Augustus to be a god. The inscription reminds us of his “divinity” and tells us that Tiberius, the current ruler, is his son. Therefore, Tiberius would be “the son of god.” The gospels recount that the apostles made a long hike to Caesarea Philippi, where Jesus asked them the “Who do people say that I am?” question. After some incorrect answers (Elijah, Moses, etc.) by the disciples, Peter correctly answered, “You are the Son of the living God!” (Matthew 16:16). Jesus was impressed and responded that only the Holy Spirit could have revealed that to him. He then made Peter the Rock upon which he will build his Church. Why did Jesus specifically lead them to Caesarea Philippi to have this conversation? Because it was the location of a famous temple to Caesar Augustus, a dead god!2

The image on the reverse side of the denarius is Livia, Tiberius’ mother. So, we have the “son of god” and his mother on the coin. In the modern world we have a much reduced view of royalty. To most people today, royals are hollow celebrities to be indulged as sources of amusement for the people. Very few have any remaining gravitas or political authority. In the ancient world, it was very different—they were the source of power and embodied their nations. Of course, the highest respect went to the King. However, unlike our perception today, the next most venerated and powerful person in the kingdom was not the Queen, but the mother of the King—the Queen Mother. We see this clearly demonstrated in Scripture. King David’s wife, Bathsheba, “bows” or “prostrates” to him in his presence .

Bathsheba bowed and did obeisance to the king, and the king said, “What do you wish?” (1 Kings 1: 16).

However, once David dies and her son Solomon is king, he bows to her.

Then Bathsheba came to king Solomon, to speak to him for Adonias: and the king arose to meet her, and bowed to her, and sat down upon his throne: and a throne was set for the king’s mother, and she sat on his right hand (1 Kings 2: 19).

To prove that this wasn’t just true of Jewish kings, Tiberius included himself and his mother on his coins. This explains Mary’s confident ease with Jesus at Cana, when she tells the stewards to “do as he tells you,” even though Jesus was not originally inclined to intervene.

We tend to forget that Jesus was also the rightful, political King of the Jews, not just a religious figure. Matthew’s gospel starts with the words,

“The book of the genealogy of Christ, the Son of David, the Son of Abraham” (Matthew 1:1).

The genealogy begins with Abraham and ends with,

And Jacob begot Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus who is called Christ (Matthew 1:16).

Exactly in the middle of the lengthy genealogy, it makes clear that David is a direct ancestor of Joseph’s. Since the Babylonian exile centuries earlier, when the House of David was deposed, the kingship of Israel was held by a series of usurpers leading to the Roman puppet king Herod of Jesus’s time who was an Idumean. Idumeans were descendants of Esau. Esau sold his birthright to his brother Jacob for a pot of stew and therefore his descendants had no right whatsoever to be rulers of Israel. This is one of the reasons that Herod was endlessly insecure about his position and hated by true Jews. Based on Matthew’s genealogy, it is clear that Joseph was the heir of David and therefore the true King of Israel. This can be the only reason Matthew included Joseph and Jesus’s detailed genealogy in his gospel. Otherwise, why is it so important? The identity of this true king had to be kept hidden or he would have been killed by the usurpers just as Herod did not hesitate to massacre the innocents knowing that the messiah was to be the “Son of David” (Matthew 2:16-7) and born in Bethlehem. Of course, members of Joseph’s family who were also descendants of David and members of his “house,” would know all this. By the time of Jesus’s public ministry, Joseph had already died, thus passing his birthright and kingship to his adopted son, Jesus. This fact alone explains why Joseph could not be alive to witness his son’s Passion, since Jesus would then only be a prince or a scion of the true ruling family, not the King of Kings and not the King of Jerusalem (“Melchizedek”). Mary, Jesus’s mother, is the Queen mother in a literal as well as spiritual sense. (Since the Jews were the “chosen people” and Christians are their successors as the “chosen people,” Mary is also then our Queen Mother.)

We see a hint of all this at the Wedding in Cana. John writes, “Now both Jesus and His disciples were invited to the wedding. And when they ran out of wine, the mother of Jesus said to him, ‘They have no wine’” (John 2:2-3). John does not refer to her as “Mary,” but rather identifies her by her relationship to Jesus when he calls her “the mother of Jesus.” If Jesus is the King, then “the mother of Jesus” is the Queen Mother. There are only two ways Mary could have known about the wine shortage: by her own observation or by being informed by others. The phrase “and when they ran out of wine” might suggest to some that Mary observed the wine shortage directly, but it is just as likely that “they ran out of wine” behind the scenes and then informed her. If so, then why would “they” approach “the mother of Jesus?” Her confident intercessory response provides the answer. The friends and relations of Jesus knew who he and his mother were since they were part of the same family and would have known their own ancestry.

There is a remarkable historical detail that proves we are on the right track in our exegesis of the symbolism of the denarius coin —Tiberius was the adopted son of Caesar Augustus3, just as Jesus was the adopted son of Joseph, the rightful king of the Jews and through whom the Davidic royal line passed to Jesus making him not just the Son of God, but the rightful political king of the Jews.

In the incident of the Temple tax and the denarius coin, Jesus is telling the Pharisees to go ahead and give Caesar his money, but also give true honor to his mother and to Himself, the Son of the Living God and to the Mother of the incarnate Son of the living God, who are the true King and the true Queen Mother.

In addition, Livia is depicted as the goddess Pax, or Peace on the coin. The cult of Pax was established by Caesar Augustus, Tiberius’ father. In other words, the cult of the son’s mother was specifically created by “god the father.” Mary is commonly known as the Queen of Peace. It’s all there on that one coin!

This incident is so much more profound than the trite interpretation that it is about the separation of church and state. Other than making the point about the tribute due to him and his mother as the true King and Queen Mother, Jesus is making the additional point that money belongs to the secular powers of this world, whose images are on the coins (and they can have it), while we who are made in God’s image belong to God. The Pharisees of course knew all of this. No wonder they marveled!

In addition, the coin invites comparisons between the divine royal family of Jesus and the “divine” royal family of Rome. One is pure, authentic, and eternal, while the other is murderous, depraved and living a lie. Jesus redeems, fulfills, and completes everything he touches, including the Jewish royal family.

1

This leads to “Catholic” politicians such as Mario Cuomo coming up with the famous moral formulation that he can be “personally opposed” but publicly in favor of a grave evil such as abortion. Now that Mario Cuomo has “passed to the other side,” his son Gov. Andrew Cuomo made sure to honor him by naming a multi-billion dollar taxpayer financed bridge after him.

The committee that was tasked with reducing the goals articulated in Sancrosanctum concilium to practice was known as the Consilium. Cd. Ferdinando Antonelli was a key participant in not only the Consilium, but in liturgical reform efforts over the previous several decades. Born in simple circumstances in rural Italy, Antonelli eventually joined the Franciscan order and rose steadily through the ranks. His particular intellectual interests were ecclesiastical history, archeology, etc., but his great enthusiasm was the promotion of the participation of the laity in the liturgy. He held numerous academic and administrative appointments. In 1948, he was appointed to the Pontifical Commission for the Reform of the Liturgy, where he served until the eve of the Council in 1962, when he was appointed a peritus (outside expert) to the Conciliar Commission for the Sacred Liturgy.

Antonelli was a key figure in the reforms of Holy Week in 1955. One can see how his obsession with participation by the laity makes changes such as the elimination of the Mass of the Pre-Sanctified and the inclusion of an illogical and superfluous communion service for the laity on Good Friday appealing to him. Until his dying day in 1993, even with the destruction and hollowing out of the Church readily evident by then, Antonelli remained steadfastly proud of his achievements in the reform of the liturgy before, during, and after Vatican II.

Antonelli kept detailed notes of his participation in the Consilium. Other than his obsession with participation by the laity (e.g., “proletariat”) common in liturgical experts of the era, Antonelli appears in his writings as an enthusiastic soldier for the Church. However, like many dedicated members of any organization, loyalty to the organization is often confused with loyalty to the cause the organization was originally created to support. Similarly, loyalty to colleagues is not the same thing as loyalty to the organization. Loyalty to the man who is pope is completely different and often can be in complete conflict to loyalty to the office of the papacy. The only person to whom a Christian owes his loyalty is Christ and from there to the things that Christ directs.

Antonelli’s notes from the Consilium meetings are routine and positive until the goings-on are finally too much even for him. On March 11, 1964, he writes,

I am not enthusiastic about this work. I am unhappy at how much the Commission has changed. It is merely an assembly of people, many of them incompetent, and others well advanced on the road to novelty. The discussions are extremely hurried. Discussions are based on impressions and the voting is chaotic. What is most displeasing is that the expositive Promemorias and the relative questions are drawn up in advanced terms and often in a very suggestive form. The direction is weak … It is unpleasant to find that questions which, in themselves are not very important but which have serious consequences, should be discussed and decided by an organ which functions such as this. The Commission or Consilium is composed of 42 members: yesterday evening we were 13, not even a third of the members.1

Of course, anyone familiar with how Alinsky tactics work in organizations recognizes the pattern in Antonelli’s description. Make sure that with whatever tactics are necessary, a small faction takes over the direction of a group. Turn the seemingly boring details that others overlook into opportunities. Populate decision making groups with aggressive hacks. Finally, when the process is complete, use the prestige or authority of the overall organization to support whatever actions or conclusions the minority pushed through. No one knows who or what or how the Consilium (whatever it is) made its decisions; all the public hears is “the Catholic Church now says.”

Throughout the years, the Consilium’s membership and structure also evolved. By the time the work on the Novus Ordo Mass was in full swing, the working group on the Mass consisted of six Protestant and six Catholic members. The six Protestants were the following: A. Raymond George (Methodist), Ronald Jaspar (Anglican), Massey Shepherd (Episcopalian), Friedrich Künneth (Lutheran), Eugene Brand (Lutheran), and Max Thurian (Calvinist-community of Taize). While it is true that Protestants had been invited to attend previous councils with the intention that that they might perhaps be brought into the Catholic faith, their participation in the Consilium was very different. They were active participants, making suggestions regarding the shape and content of the new Catholic mass. As Bugnini said in 1965, “We must strip from our Catholic prayers and from the Catholic liturgy everything which can be the shadow of a stumbling block for our separated brethren that is for the Protestants.”2

And from Pope Paul VI’s close friend and confidant, Jean Guitton,

The intention of Paul VI with regard to what is commonly called the [Novus Ordo] Mass, was to reform the Catholic liturgy in such a way that it should almost coincide with the Protestant liturgy — but what is curious is that Paul VI did that to get as close as possible to the Protestant Lord’s Supper … there was with Paul VI an ecumenical intention to remove, or least to correct, or at least to relax, what was too Catholic, in the traditional sense, in the Mass and, I repeat, to get the Catholic Mass closer to the Calvinist Mass.3

The strategy was successful. Michael Davies cites many Protestants praising the Novus Ordo Mass for its “ecumenical” dimensions and having no objections to using it.4 Though they specifically excluded Eucharistic Prayer I, which is a close translation of the traditional Roman canon, but only approved of Eucharistic Prayer II, which is overwhelmingly the most commonly used prayer by Novus Ordo priests, probably because it was purposely made the shortest and therefore most convenient to use. It is also interesting that the Eucharistic Prayers used in the Novus Ordo Mass come from the Jewish Shabbat (or Sabbath) supper. However, the Mass is not a supper; it is a sacrifice and the re-presentation of the Passion. In addition, in the New Covenant, the Jewish Sabbath of Saturday is superseded by Sunday, the eighth day, or the first day of the New Creation. The Jewish Sabbath and the Mass literally have nothing to do with each other. No wonder the typical Novus Ordo Catholic who listens to these prayers year after year has little idea of what the Mass is. The Church was always aware of celebrating the Sacrifice of the Cross in the liturgy of the Mass.

While throwing open the windows of the Church, John XXIII and Paul VI didn’t just invite the world in, they let the Catholic out. By the end of their lives, both men knew it. Even though John died before the opening of the second session, it was already clear that the council had taken a radical turn. Perhaps he finally understood the Holy Mother’s solemn personal warning to him as the pope of 1960 that he had willfully dismissed and mischaracterized to the world. It has been widely reported that John regretted the turn the Council had taken, including pleading on his deathbed, “Stop the Council! Stop the Council!” Though the exact words are hard to verify, the sentiment appears accurate.5 In John’s defense, he did not sign or implement any of the Councils documents. However, that is not true of his successor, Giovanni Battista Montini, who took the name Paul VI in 1963. Unlike Roncalli, who certainly expressed strong support for orthodox views over the course of his life, Montini was a lifelong progressive. He is known for his friendships with Maritain and Alinsky, his support for De Chardin and many others. He also had a close working partnership with Bugnini, with whom he created the Novus Ordo Mass, also known as the “Mass of Paul VI.” This new Mass was introduced in 1969, not with the acclaim he had expected, but with a resounding thud. Paul spent the rest of his life a broken man. Since there had been no outcry for a replacement Mass, there wasn’t much enthusiasm for it when it was introduced. It was therefore necessary to abrogate the traditional Mass, the Usus Antiquior, which is the product of the Holy Spirit working across centuries, and instead force its replacement with a soulless synthetic creation of Alinskyite committee men.

Paul’s meddling in the Church was not limited to the Mass. The breviary, the sacraments, the liturgical calendar, devotions, vestments, clerical dress, and Catholic education were all revamped. The modernists completely reimagined the faith and created a new rite. An overhaul like this had never happened in the history of the Church from the day it flowed from the side of Christ on the Cross. Many defend Paul by saying that much was done by Bugnini and others without his knowledge. However, the fact is that Paul had always been a promoter of progressive causes and liturgical reforms. For example, he was the first to offer a vers populi Mass completely in the vernacular on March 7, 1965 at the Ognissanti (All Saints) church in Rome years before the Consilium completed its work and the Novus Ordo was prescribed.6 On the occasion, Paul quoted from Sacrosanctum Concilium and said, “The Church is calling us to have and to promote an authentic liturgical life, so that there may be harmony between what the liturgy celebrates, and what we live in our daily existence.”7

Of course, the Mass had always been seen as the opening of heaven and the re-presentation of the Sacrifice of the Lamb outside of time. It specifically exists to take us out of “our daily existence.” In the Traditional Mass at the Orate Frates, the priest makes a complete circle on the altar, indicating that heaven is now open before he enters into the Holy of Holies in persona Christi. After communion, he again makes a complete circle to indicate that the Sacrifice is complete and heaven is now closed.

After the Novus Ordo was introduced, the faithful voted with their feet. Paul himself described the process as an “auto-demolition” of the Church. From 1970 to 2019, the overall US population has grown from 205 million to 328 million for an increase of 60%, so we would expect the numbers of priests and religious to grow by a similar amount for the Church just to remain stable.8 Instead, during the same period, the overall number of priests declined from 59k to 36k, a 39% decrease.9 Seminarians declined from 6.6k to 3.3k, a 50% drop. The immediate future looks even worse than the recent past.10 The situation looks even bleaker among religious orders, as many have completely disappeared. Baptisms have dropped from 1 million to 600k, a 40% decrease.11This isn’t likely to improve, since Catholic marriages have dropped by 68%, from 426k to 138k.12 Even prior to COVID, the percentage of those who attend Mass weekly declined from 55% to 21%.13

While many of these metrics stabilized with the elections of John Paul II and Benedict XVI, they resumed their decline during Francis’ and Leo’s papacies. It is said that Paul VI wept when he signed the thousands of requests for laicization by former priests, but he signed them all.

Observing the implosion of the Faith in the first years after introduction of his New Mass, Paul wrote on June 29, 1972:

We would say that, through some mysterious crack—no, it’s not mysterious; through some crack, the smoke of Satan has entered the Church of God. There is doubt, uncertainty, problems, unrest, dissatisfaction, confrontation. . . The Church is no longer trusted. We trust the first pagan prophet we see who speaks to us in some newspaper, and we run behind him and ask him if he has the formula for true life. I repeat, doubt has entered our conscience. And it entered through the windows that should have been open to the light: science.14

He continued,

It was thought that, after the Council, sunny days would come for the history of the Church. Nevertheless, what came were days of clouds, of storms, of darkness, of searching, of uncertainty … We tried to dig abysses instead of covering them.15

Eight days earlier, on June 21, 1972, Paul wrote a verse,

Perhaps the Lord
called me to this service
not for me to adopt any attitude,
or so that I would govern and save the Church from its difficulties,
but so that I would suffer something for the Church,
and so it be made clear that it is Him, and no one else,
who guides it and saves it.16

Paul seems unwilling to take responsibility for problems that he himself had a major role in creating and has resigned himself to a self-pitying fatalism. Whatever he specifically has in mind when he refers to “the smoke of Satan,” he was the person in the best position to stop the “uncertainty” and “mistrust” in the Church. As the Supreme Pontiff, no human can overrule him. He can dispose as he wishes. He has no one to blame but himself. His lament that the Lord called him to the papacy “not that he would save the Church from its difficulties,” but rather that he would “suffer something for the Church” is disturbing. By his own admission, Satan has entered the Church, there is chaos, souls are being lost, and his response is to dramatize his self-pity? The final line of the poem is a shift of responsibility to Christ about his own failed reforms, “so it be made clear that it is Him, and no one else who guides and saves it.” It is possible that he saw his reforms as efforts to “save” the Church, but that would be an admission that he was ruling the Church by his own lights, not Christ’s, since he has been “guiding” it instead of Christ. He is the steward and not the sovereign. Even in his last will and testament, Paul can’t let go and is still talking about the Council, his hopes for ecumenism, and trying to inoculate himself against future criticism.

Concerning the Council: May it be brought to a good climax and be executed faithfully. Regarding ecumenism: May the work of bringing together separated brothers proceed with much understanding, patience and great love, but without defecting from true Catholic doctrine.17

There is a difference between discouragement and exhaustion. An exhausted man simply lacks the physical or emotional resources to continue. Discouragement is spiritual; specifically, it is a type of passive-aggressive pride. The discouraged man is stymied by circumstances and responds by choosing to go on strike. Hidden within every ostentatiously “humble” man are strong streaks of grandiosity. For all of Paul’s public gestures of humility, such as selling the papal tiara, having himself buried directly in the earth without a casket, etc., he cannot wrap his mind around the fact that his destructive actions were not willed as part of some divine overall plan, but rather the result of his own dismal personal and intellectual failures and so he went on strike for the last several years of his pontificate. Catholics of the 1970s will remember how it seemed like the Church was adrift. There were no encyclicals after Humanae Vitae in 1969 and only a few smaller works. However, he did declare 1975, which was the 10th anniversary of the closing of the council, as a jubilee year. He issued an apostolic exhortation for the occasion called “Evangelii Nuntiandi: On Evangelization in the Modern World.” Hints of his mental state make appearances in statements such as the following,

Such obstacles are also present today, and we shall limit ourself to mentioning the lack of fervor. It is all the more serious because it comes from within. It is manifested in fatigue, disenchantment, compromise, lack of interest and above all lack of joy and hope.18

In a final summation near the end of his life, on October 13, 1977, the occasion of the anniversary of the warnings of Fatima, Paul again spoke of Satan entering the Church,

The tail of the devil is functioning in the disintegration of the Catholic world. The darkness of Satan has entered and spread throughout the Catholic Church, even to its summit. Apostasy, the loss of the faith, is spreading throughout the world, and into the highest levels within the Church.19

His remarks would seem to confirm Our Lady’s messages. It would weigh heavily on any pontiff to know that he was the one primarily responsible for a “bad council and a bad mass” that would so gravely wound the Church theologically, spiritually, and morally at the cost of so many souls. But again, for Paul it is all Satan’s fault. By the time Paul wrote this, he would have read and known both the Fatima Third Secret and the message of the Akita apparition. Yet, there is no recognition by Paul who let Satan in. He is left only with a pontifical version of Geraldine Jones’ famous excuse, “the devil made me do it.”20

On October 14, 2014, Francis, another “humble” pope,21 declared Paul VI a saint. One of the many post-Vatican II changes was in the process of determining sainthood.22 Traditionally, two miracles were required for beatification and an additional two for sainthood for a total of four. There were also many other criteria, one of which was the demonstration of “heroic virtue,” which is different from being a good man or even a very good man. Rather, heroic virtue is something extraordinary and it must be traceable to the action of the Holy Spirit. Supernatural virtue must be evident in these lives, not simply natural virtue. These men and women are to be exemplars for all Christians.

Paul VI was the only pontiff to be dogged by persistent rumors of homosexuality strong enough to warrant a public denial.23The author Roger Peyrefitte, wrote that Paul had a longtime homosexual relationship with an actor, who rumors later identified as Paolo Carlini. Carlini appeared in 45 films, including as the hairdresser Mario in “Roman Holiday” starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in 1953. In a public address in St. Peter’s Square on April 18, 1975, Paul VI denied the charges, but they would not go away. In 1994, Franco Bellegrandi, a former Vatican honor chamberlain and correspondent for the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano, alleged that Paul VI had been blackmailed into promoting homosexual men to responsible positions. In 2006, an article in one of Italy’s leading news magazines, L’Espresso, confirmed the blackmail story based upon the private testimony of police commander General Giorgio Manes.

While Francis decided to declare John XXIII a saint without even one miracle, at least Paul VI was responsible for a miracle. Or, was he? Paul’s canonization miracle was the survival of a premature baby born at five months after a ruptured placenta and anhydramnios (loss of the amniotic fluid). Indeed, this would be a grave situation, but as it happens, five months is the limit where current medical science is thought to have a chance of saving the infant. Placental rupture is also very grave, but it is not unheard of for the infant to survive, though with a significantly increased risk of defects and complications. Perhaps the survival of the mother and the infant was indeed a miracle, though all of the medical details of this “miracle” have yet to be released. However, risk, even high risk, means there was always a natural possibility of a successful birth. It is similar to winning the lottery. Someone will eventually win. A lottery winner is not a miraculous thing, though it may seem like that to the actual winner who “beat the odds.” A miracle is something that has no natural explanation, not something that is simply of very low probability. As long as there are women and children who survive ruptured placentas and prematurity, it cannot be said that doing so is clear proof of a “miracle.” It is because of these kinds of issues and doubts that the Church has traditionally required two miracles instead of one. After all, what is the hurry? If God wants to honor a person with sainthood, it shouldn’t be difficult for him to arrange it.

In addition, 99%24 of “miracles” ascribed to saints are healings that “cannot be explained by medical science.” There is an obvious philosophical problem here. Miracles are being judged by a field whose knowledge is always incomplete, whose understanding is always advancing, and whose judgements are rarely definitive, particularly in rare or extreme cases. Something that was inexplicable in the 19^th century might very well be explained today. New diseases are still being described and the understanding of well-known ones continues to grow. A saint appearing at the head of an army many years after his death to lead them to victory in battle is the kind of miracle that no advance in science will ever be able to explain and can be taken as indisputable proof of heaven’s favor.

In July 1959, with no prior consultations with advisors or the Church at large, Pope John XXIII abruptly announced the establishment of a preparatory commission to organize a second Vatican Council. Immediately afterward in August, he ordered that the copy of the Third Fatima Secret be brought to him. In the presence of his confessor, Msgr. Alfredo Cavagna, he opened it. However, since Sister Lucia wrote in a difficult Portuguese dialect, he had it translated by Msgr. Paolo Tavares, an official of the Secretariat of State. Other officials were also present. After reading it, John XXIII said, “This does not concern the years of my pontificate.”1 Once it became known that the Third Secret had been opened and read, the Holy See publicly suggested that the Secret contained, “Neither terrors, nor alarmist statements, nor ‘sensationalism’ nor morbid curiosity.”2

Perhaps “Good Pope John” was brought the wrong piece of paper? The publicly released portion of the secret in the year 2000 contains enough terrors, alarmist statements, and sensationalism to satisfy anyone’s morbid curiosity.3 In addition, based upon Ratzinger’s and others’ later credible statements, the unreleased portion of the Third Secret specifically discusses “a bad council and a bad Mass.” John had just announced plans for a new council. Also, the Holy Mother specifically instructed that the Secret was not to be opened until 1960. What was John doing disobeying her and opening it in 1959? Was he contemplating something and wanted reassurance? If so, he didn’t receive it. Or was it nothing more than arrogant presumption like every other pope from 1917 until today? After reading it, why mislead the world in such an egregious fashion by claiming there was nothing of great interest in it? If so, why not then go ahead and publish the supposedly routine document right away and end all speculation? Even stranger, why would the Holy Mother allow the disturbing First and Second Secrets to be immediately made public, but demand that this allegedly unremarkable Third Secret be kept confidential for several more decades?

On July 5, 2013, Francis approved Pope John XXIII for canonization, along with Pope John Paul II, without the traditional required miracle. Instead, Francis based his decision on John XXIII’s “merits for the Second Vatican Council.”4 Prior to Vatican II, the primary criterion for canonization was heroic virtue. A saint is to be a model of supernatural sanctity that should be followed by all Christians. It is hard to see where the heroic supernatural virtue is in the bureaucratic and administrative act of convening a council. After all, people who are completely opposed to saintly heroic virtue such as communists and globalists have their party congresses and their United Nations. Clearly, heaven did not see fit to grant John the needed miracle to validate his sanctity. Instead, Pope Francis abused his office and honored Angelo Roncalli (John XXIII) for his politics. It is well known that heaven honors sanctity by granting incorruptibility to the bodies of particularly worthy saints. Modern embalmers, using the best technology, have worked from the moment of John’s death to keep his body from decomposing.5 If there is any miracle here, it is a miracle of science, similar to the miracle of the incorruptible Lenin in his tomb in Moscow’s Red Square.6 To this day, it is not definitively known how many “Lenins” (or pieces of Lenin) have actually resided in his tomb. Today, the remains of John’s disemboweled, waxed, and chemically treated corpse is the most prominently displayed papal tomb in St. Peter’s Basilica, resting on the main floor instead of a basement crypt with his predecessors. By contrast, St. Peter’s own bones are still relegated to the difficult to reach Scavi hidden deep under the basilica’s foundations.

The official plaque by John’s body honors him for his contributions to “the ecumenical Vatican II Council and ecumenical dialogue and the two encyclicals Mater et Magistram and Pacem in terris.” Many see “ecumenism” as nothing more than a promotion of indifferentism and the encyclicals as modernist promotions of internationalism, activist government, and “social justice”—in other words, the Church of Man rather than the Church of Christ. On the other side of the basilica, shoehorned into one of the side chapels, is a dark, 1960’s modernist “monument” to John XXIII by the artist Emilio Greco. Its intended theme is Good Pope John blessing the suffering modern world. Ironically, it looks more like the anguished figures of the angels and humanity depicted in the sculpture are turning away and recoiling from his “blessing” and of the “concelebrating” druid-like figures behind him, who are meant to represent the participants in the Second Vatican Council.

In its earliest planning stages, the Second Vatican Council was intended to be a second Council of Trent. While the first Council of Trent was a council called to deal with the Protestant heresy and can be seen as the “Anti-Protestant Council.” The great post-Protestant heresy of the last two centuries has been modernism. The Second Vatican Council was to be the great “Anti-Modernist Council.” Yet, instead of being another uncompromising doctrinal council, it was completely subverted and became the great “Ecumenical Council” which took a wrecking ball to Catholicism and instead accepted the validity of a variety of heretical sects and studiously avoided even the slightest criticism of modernist errors such as Marxism and religious indifferentism.

The Roman Synod of 1960 was planned by John as a preparatory meeting for the larger council. The texts of the Synod contained a call for a strong restoration of Catholic life at every level. The first principle was a restatement of the supernatural and sacred character of the priesthood as opposed to the laity. The second was related to the first; it prescribed a lifestyle for clergy very different from the laity—ecclesiastical dress, sober diet, and the avoidance of profane things. The pope ordered that the “conservative” Catechism of the Council of Trent be republished, but it was never done. Latin was reaffirmed as the sacred language of the Church, creativity on the part of the celebrant was condemned, traditional design and location of the tabernacle and Gregorian chant was ordered, the sacred character of churches was to be maintained, women were to be forbidden entry to the sanctuary. Altars facing the people were forbidden unless specifically allowed by the bishop. Romano Amerio writes,

And so, the Roman Synod, which was to have been an exemplary foreshadowing of the council, fell within a few years into the Erebus of oblivion, and is indeed tanquam non fuerit. As an instance of this nullification, I may say that having searched for the texts of the Roman synod in diocesan curias and archives, I could not find them there and had to get them from secular public libraries.7

As a follow up to the synod, John issued the encyclical Veterum Sapientia (i.e., “Wisdom of the Ancients”) in 19628. It is a vigorous affirmation of continuity in order to bring about a renewal of the Church, particularly through fidelity to its Greek and Latin roots.

As we can see from the coordinated modernist hijacking of Vatican II from its opening hours in 1962, the Holy Mother had her reasons for ordering the Third Secret not to be opened until 1960. Its contents very much concerned the years of John’s pontificate.

In preparation for the council, a letter was sent on June 15, 1959 to the entire Catholic hierarchy asking for their questions, critiques, opinions, and wishes. The letter was addressed to 2,700 individuals as well as dozens of communities and institutions. The vota received in response overwhelmingly asked for a condemnation of modern evils such as communism, moral relativism, etc., as well as new doctrinal definitions regarding the Virgin Mary, in particular, finally declaring her as the Mediatrix of All Graces. There was no desire for a radical reinterpretation of the Faith, particularly along syncretistic lines. Least of all, there was no call for a new Mass that would be more acceptable to Protestants, which of course ended up being one of the most notable “achievements” of Vatican II. However, for the progressive minority, a council was a tremendous opportunity if they could only organize themselves sufficiently to change its direction.9

One of the most prescient vota responses came from the bishop of Jacarenzinho, Geraldo de Proença Sigaud, who explicitly identified the problem as the infiltration by the modernists,

Our ruthless enemy of the Church and Catholic society has been active in this conflict for five centuries now and with slow, systematic, and deadly progress has subverted and destroyed almost the entire Catholic order, that is, the city of God, and is striving to build the city of man in its place. His name is revolution. What does he want? To build the whole structure of human life, a society and a humanity without God, without the Church, without Christ, without revelation, relying only on human reason, on sensuality, greed, and pride. To this end it is necessary to subvert, destroy, and supplant the Church down to its foundations.

In our days, this enemy is more active than ever; indeed, he is sure of his victory in the coming years. Even so, many Catholic leaders dismiss what I say as the dreams of a sick imagination. They behave as the men of Constantinople behaved in the years before their defeat: being blind, they did not want to see the danger.10

Alfredo Cardinal Ottaviani was a type of churchman never seen anymore. Brilliant, witty, and completely dedicated to serving the Bride of Christ, he advanced because of superior ability. He was born in 1890 to a humble Roman family, eventually entered the seminary and earned a doctorate in philosophy, a doctorate in theology, and a doctorate in canon law. He became a professor of scholastic philosophy as well as ecclesiastical public law before working at the Secretariat of State and as an adviser to the Supreme Congregation of the Holy Office. In 1937, Pius XI used him to write Divini Redemptoris, which condemns communism. He defended Christ as King against those who would exclude the Church from the affairs of the state and society. In 1948, Pius XII tasked Ottaviani with the formation of a preparatory commission for a future council that would defend against neo-modernist errors. However, faced with resistance, Pius stopped the preparations; he did, however, issue the encyclical Humani Generis in 1950, which condemned the modernist Nouvelle Théologie of Maritain, de Lubac, de Chardin, among others which would be resuscitated and ultimately dominate Vatican II and the post-conciliar Church. The encyclical also condemned the concept of polygenism and distinguished between the soul and the possible evolution of the body while defending the appropriate role of scientific knowledge.

Finally, in 1959, Ottaviani became pro-prefect of the Congregation, second only to the pope. When he was consecrated bishop by John XXIII, he took as his motto the defiant and faithful “Semper Idem” (Always the Same).

Eventually, Ottaviani was appointed as head of the Theological Commission; this was the most important conciliar commission because it was exclusively responsible for doctrinal matters. The commission considered it necessary to open the council with a new formula of faith that combined the traditional formula with the more recent anti-modernist oath. As De Mattei writes,

It consisted of eighteen points that reaffirmed the traditional Catholic truths, condemning a series of errors such as: secularism, the denial of the Catholic Church as the one Church, the denial of the difference between the universal priesthood and the hierarchical priesthood, minimalism in Mariology, and the abandonment of the doctrine of hell. The Formula fidei was displeasing to the Central Commission, however, which considered it excessively “defensive” and set it aside.11

One of the most notable battles fought by Ottaviani was against liberal cardinals and theologians led by Augustin Bea regarding salvation outside the Catholic Church, which the Magisterium had always taught was not possible. Bea proposed that humanity could be part of a “Mystical Body” separate from the Church and be saved. Ottaviani reminded him that it had always been an infallible doctrine that the Mystical Body and the Catholic Church were the same thing. Archbishop Lefebvre describes an incident that he witnessed where Bea said to Ottaviani,

“I radically oppose what you say in your schema De tolerantia religiosa,” … It was the final session of the Central Commission, and we could clearly perceive, on the eve of the council, displayed in front of us, the whole battle that would take place during the council. Cardinal Bea certainly did not compose his schema De libertate religiosa without having reached an agreement with other cardinals.12

Other Church insiders saw similar processes at work. In January, 1960, Monsignor Antonio Romero of the Sacred Congregation for Seminaries and Universities wrote,

Such a relentless activity by termites moving about in the shadows in Rome and in all parts of the world, compels us to guess the active presence of a plan to surround and break down the doctrines that form and nourish the Catholic faith. More and more evidence, from various quarters, attests to a gradual accomplishment of a large-scale progressive maneuver, directed by extremely capable and ostensibly devout “captains,” which tends to remove from our midst the Christianity hitherto taught and lived out for nineteen centuries, so as to replace it with a Christianity “of modern times.”13

One of Cardinal Bea’s ecumenical priorities was building a relationship with the patriarchate of Moscow, the state church of Russia, that was then as now notoriously controlled by the Kremlin. In August 1962, a secret meeting was held between an emissary of Bea’s and a representative of the Russian Church. In order to ensure that the Russians would accept an invitation to attend the council, the pope was to guarantee that the council would not condemn communism.14 Contrary to the wishes expressed by the vota, the Pope was as good as his word to the Soviet Communists and made sure that the Second Vatican Council would not.

So while KGB agents, collaborators and various enemies of the Church were participating in the Council, heroic Catholic witnesses and martyrs were languishing in Communist jails. One of the best known is Cd. József Mindszenty who was a steadfast opponent of Nazism as well as Communism. Within months of his appointment as Primate of Hungary (1945-1973), he was arrested and taken to a torture chamber.

For nearly forty days and nights, Mindszenty was tortured. Interrogators at the inhuman secret police headquarters excelled not only at beatings but brainwashing and drugging. The communist guards poked and prodded and ridiculed him, exhaled smoke in his face, told him dirty jokes, profaned his presence and his faith, as the cardinal sat dressed in what he later described as a “clown suit.” At one stage in this novel form of communist-crucifixion-without-killing, Mindszenty was kept awake for thirty-five hours while peppered and badgered and bludgeoned by his inquisitors. At another point, he was kept awake for eighty-two hours, during which two nuns were brought before him and punched and pounded to a pulp. The priest tried to bring his two hands together to pray for them but could not reconcile the left and the right. When the image of the thrashed sisters did not compel his “confession,” two similarly bloodied priests were escorted in, swollen beyond recognition, hair soaked with blood, necks and arms blue, and bloodied feet.15^[

Shortly afterward, Mindszenty was convicted in a show trial. A grieved and outraged Pius XII promptly excommunicated everyone involved and lamented that he could have not done more. Mindszenty spent the next eight years in solitary confinement until he was released during the Hungarian uprising of 1955. He was granted political asylum and lived in the US embassy in Budapest for the next fifteen years refusing to leave his country. He was not able to participate in the papal conclaves of 1958 or 1963. He never was allowed to participate in the Council. His uncompromising witness was out of step with the times and became an embarrassment to the Vatican’s communist accommodation Ostpolitik policy. Finally, Paul VI forcibly removed Mindszenty as primate of Hungary, declared him a “victim of history” instead of communism, and annulled the excommunications of his torturers and political opponents. The shameful betrayal by the Novus Ordo church of Our Lord’s lambs to communist wolves still occurs today.1617

The Holy Mother’s approved apparitions as our Lady of Good Success, circa 1600, are not well known. This is unfortunate, since they are directed several centuries into the future to our era and are remarkably prescient. Not only does she foretell a reign of Satan through Masonic sects, but she accurately foretells that Pius IX will be the pope who will infallibly proclaim her Immaculate Conception as a dogma of the Church. She also foretells the loss of the Papal States and says that the 19^th and 20^th centuries will be a time of great immorality and a loss of faith.

In 1846, the Holy Mother appeared to two children in La Salette, France to again warn against Masonic infiltration of the Church. Then, in 1916, in what is probably the most famous and widely accepted apparition in history, the Holy Mother appeared to three small children (Lucia, Francisco, and Jacinta) in Fatima, Portugal. In order to prove the credibility of the apparition, on October 13, 1917 the “Miracle of the Sun” occurred, where the sun appeared to change colors, dance and rush toward the earth for ten minutes before retreating. The miracle was witnessed by tens of thousands of people. The Holy Mother entrusted the children with three messages or “secrets.”

The first was a terrible vision of hell. In Sr. Lucia’s own words,

Our Lady showed us a great sea of fire which seemed to be under the earth. Plunged in this fire were demons and souls in human form, like transparent burning embers, all blackened or burnished bronze, floating about in the conflagration, now raised into the air by the flames that issued from within themselves together with great clouds of smoke, now falling back on every side like sparks in a huge fire, without weight or equilibrium, and amid shrieks and groans of pain and despair, which horrified us and made us tremble with fear. The demons could be distinguished by their terrifying and repulsive likeness to frightful and unknown animals, all black and transparent. This vision lasted but an instant. How can we ever be grateful enough to our kind heavenly Mother, who had already prepared us by promising, in the first Apparition, to take us to heaven. Otherwise, I think we would have died of fear and terror.¹

Here is the second secret in St. Lucia’s own words:

We then looked up at Our Lady, who said to us so kindly and so sadly:

“You have seen hell where the souls of poor sinners go. To save them, God wishes to establish in the world devotion to my Immaculate Heart. If what I say to you is done, many souls will be saved and there will be peace. The war is going to end: but if people do not cease offending God, a worse one will break out during the Pontificate of Pius XI. When you see a night illumined by an unknown light, know that this is the great sign given you by God that he is about to punish the world for its crimes, by means of war, famine, and persecutions of the Church and of the Holy Father. To prevent this, I shall come to ask for the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart, and the Communion of reparation on the First Saturdays. If my requests are heeded, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace; if not, she will spread her errors throughout the world, causing wars and persecutions of the Church. The good will be martyred; the Holy Father will have much to suffer; various nations will be annihilated. In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph. The Holy Father will consecrate Russia to me, and she shall be converted, and a period of peace will be granted to the world.” 2

At the time, World War I was ongoing. Five years after her prophecy, in 1922, Pius XI was elected pope. Twenty-two years after the apparition, World War II began in 1939. Not only did the Holy Mother predict the most destructive war the world has ever known well in advance, but she revealed the specific name of the pope.3 How could she, or even more unlikely, the uneducated children, make a lucky guess with such specificity? At the time of her apparitions, the Bolshevik Revolution was underway in Russia and Christian Europe was in her death throes. The “errors” that Russia “will spread throughout the world” are atheistic communism. The suffering that it has caused (and is still causing) is now a matter of incontrovertible historical record.

The identity of the Third Secret was a matter of great speculation and remains controversial to this day. The Holy Mother directed Lucia to write down what she saw and that it was not to be opened by the pope until 1960. Finally, after decades of evasion, a copy of an “official” version of the secret was released to the public in 2000. In Sr. Lucia’s own handwritten words, it reads,

After the two parts which I have already explained, at the left of Our Lady and a little above, we saw an Angel with a flaming sword in his left hand; flashing, it gave out flames that looked as though they would set the world on fire; but they died out in contact with the splendour that Our Lady radiated towards him from her right hand: pointing to the earth with his right hand, the Angel cried out in a loud voice: ‘Penance, Penance, Penance!’. And we saw in an immense light that is God: ‘something similar to how people appear in a mirror when they pass in front of it’ a Bishop dressed in White ‘we had the impression that it was the Holy Father’. Other Bishops, Priests, men and women Religious going up a steep mountain, at the top of which there was a big Cross of rough-hewn trunks as of a cork-tree with the bark; before reaching there the Holy Father passed through a big city half in ruins and half trembling with halting step, afflicted with pain and sorrow, he prayed for the souls of the corpses he met on his way; having reached the top of the mountain, on his knees at the foot of the big Cross he was killed by a group of soldiers who fired bullets and arrows at him, and in the same way there died one after another the other Bishops, Priests, men and women Religious, and various lay people of different ranks and positions. Beneath the two arms of the Cross there were two Angels each with a crystal aspersorium in his hand, in which they gathered up the blood of the Martyrs and with it sprinkled the souls that were making their way to God.4

The “official” interpretation of this vision signed by then Cd. Josef Ratzinger is prima facie absurd. The Holy Father, who is described as suffering and being killed by “a group of soldiers,” is to be interpreted as the unsuccessful assassination attempt on John Paul II by the lone gunman Ali Agca in 1981. In addition, Ratzinger says without any basis in fact or logic that the events described have already occurred,

First of all we must affirm with Cardinal Sodano: “... the events to which the third part of the ‘secret’ of Fatima refers now seem part of the past”. Insofar as individual events are described, they belong to the past. Those who expected exciting apocalyptic revelations about the end of the world or the future course of history are bound to be disappointed.5

It is difficult to comprehend why the Holy Mother would feel it necessary to dramatically intervene in human history to warn of a future unsuccessful assassination attempt, after which the pope would recover and rule for an additional 24 years. If that was her purpose, the warning was too vague to be useful. Every famous person is in some danger whenever he appears in public. Ratzinger writes,

In his arduous ascent of the mountain we can undoubtedly see a convergence of different Popes. Beginning from Pius X up to the present Pope, they all shared the sufferings of the century and strove to go forward through all the anguish along the path which leads to the Cross. In the vision, the Pope too is killed along with the martyrs. When, after the attempted assassination on 13 May 1981, the Holy Father had the text of the third part of the “secret” brought to him, was it not inevitable that he should see in it his own fate?6

As we see here, Ratzinger claims that the suffering Holy Father could refer to the modern popes who have “suffered,” including John Paul II. However, the description of the harrowing experience undergone by the figure in the vision seems out of proportion to the “suffering” experienced by these men, whose suffering can’t be seen as anything more than the job stress that comes with any highly responsible position or the health issues experienced by virtually every elderly man. Other popes in history have suffered torture, imprisonment, persecution and martyrdom. Ratzinger’s assertion that modern popes living in palaces surrounded by servants and flying on chartered luxury airliners have somehow uniquely suffered seems like exaggerated popolatry. Something else must be going on.

One place to start may be to ask the question: why did the Holy Mother instruct that the Third Secret not be opened until 1960? The John Paul II assassination attempt wasn’t until 1981. Why should it be kept secret, particularly if it is highly symbolic and therefore no one can know exactly what it means? It’s like saying the book of Revelation should be suppressed just because it contains horrible scenes and terrible prophecies. God has never been shy about giving us bad news. Why would the world have been more shocked in 1960 to learn about an attempted papal assassination than it would have in 1917 or in 2000 when the secret was “released?”

It makes more sense to see the anonymous Holy Father of the vision as a metaphor for the Catholic Church itself. What better symbol is there of Catholicism than the papacy? He is the central practical organizing principle of the Church militant. He is “Peter.” He is our symbol of unity and the direct human connection to Christ.

Interpret “the man in white” as the Church and the vision comes into focus. There have been more martyrs to the faith since the apparition than in the entire history of the Church combined. The Church has cruelly and viciously suffered from external as well as internal enemies. The Church and the world have apostatized. Are the soldiers doing the will of God in destroying the Church just like Nebuchadnezzar destroying the faithless Jews in the Old Testament? The angel is shouting “Penance!” and the religious are being shot. Clearly, there is guilt among the people and there is no resistance to the soldiers, though Mary is resisting the hand of the angel, presumably Michael. In other words, God is allowing severe chastisement but not total destruction of the world by the angel. Are Jesus and his Mother purifying the institutional Church and the world as we’ve known it in order to replace it with something different? In addition, Archbishop Athanasius Schneider interprets the city “half in ruins” as the Church. As he writes in his book, Christus Vincit,

In the Bible, the city—specifically the city of Jerusalem—is the symbol of the Church, and the heavenly Church is described as a city, the New Jerusalem.” In addition, he says that the “corpses” in the vision have a deeper meaning:

There are not only physical, but first and foremost spiritual priestly corpses strewn across the Church. Today we are witnessing a tremendous crisis among the clergy. This crisis has not only affected the lower clergy but has torn through the higher clergy, i.e., the episcopacy and the cardinalate and has been going on for half a century. To a great extent, this crisis has been caused by the frequent irresponsible and extremely superficial selection of candidates for the episcopacy and the cardinalate. Such morally deplorable episcopal and cardinalatial candidates, who oftentimes lost the faith and betrayed their Master, Jesus Christ, owed their promotion to favoritism, to membership in the same ideological clerical club. I would also not exclude membership in a sort of Masonic clerical old-boy network. Today the spiritual corpses of pedophile, sodomite, and plainly heretical bishops and cardinals have been exposed for the whole world to see.7

A corrupt priesthood depicted as corpses is not new. Jesus describes the hypocritical Pharisees as “whitewashed tombs which indeed appear beautiful outwardly, but inside are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness” (Matthew 23: 27).

Many innocent martyrs will suffer. However, God recognizes their martyrdom, their blood washes the world along with the blood of the Tamid Lamb and they will be rewarded. The guilty who are being destroyed deserve it. It is required by justice.

In the second secret, Mary makes explicitly and abundantly clear that she desires the world to be consecrated to her Immaculate Heart:

To prevent this, I shall come to ask for the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart, and the Communion of reparation on the First Saturdays. If my requests are heeded, Russia will be converted, and there will be peace; if not, she will spread her errors throughout the world, causing wars and persecutions of the Church. The good will be martyred; the Holy Father will have much to suffer; various nations will be annihilated. In the end, my Immaculate Heart will triumph. The Holy Father will consecrate Russia to me, and she shall be converted, and a period of peace will be granted to the world.8

The Holy Mother doesn’t just come to frighten us with these terrible events. Ever merciful, she also offers a solution. “To prevent this, I shall come to ask for the consecration of Russia to my Immaculate Heart, and the Communion of reparation on the First Saturdays.”9 Since this is exactly the work of the Church, it would seem that asking for a consecration and prayers is a very reasonable, even modest, thing to do. We should be doing this kind of thing as a matter of course. However, the history of the consecration of Russia has turned out to be difficult and controversial. For over a hundred years, the popes have refused to do as the Holy Mother asks. Instead of performing a consecration of Russia, they instead deflect and insist upon consecrating the whole world and specifically avoid mentioning Russia by name or if Russia is mentioned they do not perform the consecration in conjunction with all the world’s bishops.10 After all, how many of defective consecrations does Russia need? (Perhaps just one done as she asks would be sufficient?!)

• Pius XII on October 31, 1942

• Paul VI on November 21, 1964

• John Paul II on May 13, 1982

• John Paul II on March 25, 1984 with all the bishops

• Francis on October 13, 2013

• Francis on March 25, 2022

The official explanation is that Russia is part of the world, so therefore a consecration of the world would include Russia. Many commentators by now have pointed out the flawed logic. If a particular loved one is deathly ill, prayers for the health of all humanity misses the point. The true answer is of course politics. The pontiffs, with their obsession with being players on the geopolitical stage rather than being obedient servants of God, have all felt that avoiding hurting Russia’s feelings is more important. Of course, Russia, beginning with the Bolshevik Revolution, has spread her errors throughout the world and energetically does so to this day. Is there a single vile regime in the world that she does not support? However, with the steady unmasking of the diabolical forces that have been working in the Church during this time, is the refusal to consecrate Russia deliberate? Russia’s errors of Communism metastasized to China, whose ruling Communist Party is probably now the greatest enemy of God and freedom in the world.

John Paul II is a particularly interesting case in point. As someone who legitimately suffered under a Soviet occupation, it would seem that he would be particularly motivated to take advantage of the graces being offered by the Holy Mother to finally defeat this scourge of humanity. Understanding that his 1982 consecration was inadequate, a second consecration was organized for 1984, this time with all of the world’s bishops participating. However, at the last moment, just as he was about to perform the consecration, he was persuaded to change the words from Russia to the world.11

The latest “consecration” was performed by Pope Francis on March 25, 2022, but not of Russia but again of the world along including Russia and Ukraine. This has been defended by Abp. Athanasius Schneider and others as fulfilling the Fatima request because in 1917 Ukraine was part of Russia.12 On the other hand, just before and after that time so were the Baltic States, Belarus, Georgia, and Asian republics, all of whom were not the cause or participants in Russia’s “errors” but were rather its first victims. It seems that Francis’s aim was more to posture as a world player and a peace broker in the Russian-Ukrainian war of 2022 rather than undo the consequences of Marxism/communism unleashed by the 1917 Russian Revolution. The consecration once again refers to all of “humanity” and spends more time condemning war and discussing Francis’s obsessions with “greed” and ecological concerns than it does Russia’s specific errors that are never mentioned or even alluded to. Whether heaven interprets this latest “consecration” as sufficient or as more presumption and blasphemy from the modern Church is anyone’s guess.13

Taking the facts at face value, the failure of popes for over a century to do as the Holy Mother asks is inexplicable. However, as disappointing as the failures of the various modern popes have been, it appears that the Holy Mother specifically had Pius XI in mind to perform the consecration.

In the Second Secret in 1917, the Holy Mother said, “To prevent this I shall (emphasis mine) come to ask for the consecration of Russia.” In 1929, the time had come. Our Lady appeared to Lucia while she was praying in her convent chapel.14 Lucia made the Holy Mother’s request known to her confessors, who ultimately brought it to the attention of Pius XI. For two years nothing happened. The Holy Mother appeared again, telling Lucia, “Make it known to My ministers, given that they follow the example of the King of France in delaying the execution of My command they will follow him into misfortune. It will never be too late to have recourse to Jesus and Mary.”15

The Holy Mother is referring here to Jesus’ demand in 1689 in a series of appearances to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque that France be consecrated to His Sacred Heart. Saint Margaret Mary wrote several letters to Louis XIV emphasizing the importance of the consecration. It is because of these apparitions that the Church eventually established the official devotion to the Sacred Heart. Ironically, in his 1928 encyclical Miserentissimus Redemptor, which was devoted to the importance of offering reparations and atonement to the Sacred Heart, Pius XI affirmed the Church’s position regarding the credibility of St. Margaret Mary’s visions and quoted from her extensively. Knowing this, perhaps that is why the Holy Mother specifically mentioned the example of Louis XIV and St. Margaret Mary. For 100 years, the French kings disobeyed our Lord’s command. The king and his ministers were guillotined by revolutionaries during the Reign of Terror between 1789 and 1794. The French Revolution is widely understood to be a Masonic revolution against not just a monarchy, but against God, his instrument the Catholic Church, and Christendom, which the Church established and fostered. The second phase of the Masonic revolution against God and the Church came with the Communist Revolution in 1917, which is still ongoing as the spread of Masonic and Marxist ideology (“Russia’s errors”) still continues even after the formal collapse of the Soviet Union. The Holy Mother referenced the first, appeared at the second, and foretold even worse events to come if humanity did not return to God as demonstrated by a consecration to her Immaculate Heart.

The Holy Mother warned that an even greater war than the First World War would break out during the reign of Pius XI if her requests were not heeded. Why call out Pius XI by name? To simply prove that she knows the future? Being outside of time, of course she does. A successful prophecy would only be impressive in hindsight. The Holy Mother cares about telling us, “I told you so?” Not likely. In this case, she is conveying a warning with an expiration date. If Pius XI had done as he was told, Mary promised that World War II would not have happened and the errors of Russia would have been stopped before they cost the lives and the souls of millions.

We can only speculate why Pius XI did not act. Theologically, he was very sound. However, he was known for being extremely conscious of the formalities of his office to an extreme extent. For example, he only dined alone. He was responsible for the Lateran Treaties with Mussolini renouncing the historic Papal States in exchange for guarantees of sovereignty and security for a vestigial Vatican State. He is known to have established secret relations with the Soviet Union and for arranging food shipments in the hope of easing persecution of the Church. Did he feel he understood the practical realities of geopolitics better than the Holy Mother? Did he consider her simple and naïve and himself worldly and wise?

The importance of Fatima does not end with World War II. It still speaks to our times today. From the moment the Third Secret was “revealed” in 2000, there has been widespread suspicion that there is more to it than has been made public.

In 2016, the website One Peter Five reported,

Not long after the June 2000 publication of the Third Secret of Fatima by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger told Fr. Dollinger during an in-person conversation that there is still a part of the Third Secret that they have not published! “There is more than what we published,” Ratzinger said. He also told Dollinger that the published part of the Secret is authentic and that the unpublished part of the Secret speaks about “a bad council and a bad Mass” that was to come in the near future.16

Fr. Ingo Dollinger was a German priest and former professor of theology in Brazil, who was a personal friend of Pope Benedict XVI. As Cardinal Ratzinger, he has confirmed on other occasions that the message of the 1973 Akita Marian apparition is similar to the Third Secret. At Akita, the Holy Mother told Sr. Sasagawa,

The work of the devil will infiltrate even into the Church in such a way that one will see Cardinals opposing Cardinals, Bishops against Bishops. The Priests who Venerate Me will be scorned and opposed by their confreres (other Priests); churches and altars will be sacked; the Church will be full of those who accept compromises and the demon will press many Priests and Consecrated souls to leave the service of the Lord.17

In 2010 in Fatima, Ratzinger said, “We would be mistaken to think that Fatima’s prophetic mission is complete.”18

On the return flight, he added:

As for the new things which we can find in this message today, there is also the fact that attacks on the Pope and the Church come not only from without, but the sufferings of the Church come precisely from within the Church, from the sin existing within the Church. This too is something that we have always known, but today we are seeing it in a really terrifying way: that the greatest persecution of the Church comes not from her enemies without, but arises from sin within the Church, and that the Church thus has a deep need to re-learn penance, to accept purification, to learn forgiveness on the one hand, but also the need for justice.19

Alice von Hildebrand, philosopher and wife of the famed Catholic philosopher and Nazi opponent Dietrich von Hildebrand, wrote a letter to Fr. Brian Harrison in 2016,

Dear Father,

I think the following two conversations, which I recall very well from the 1960s, are of particular interest now, in these deeply troubled times half a century later. For they apparently corroborate Cardinal Ciappi’s testimony that part of Our Lady’s Fatima secret was the shocking prediction that the great apostasy in the Church would begin “at the top.”

The first conversation was In June 1965. We were in Florence in the house where my husband was born, and where I spent my first sabbatical. My husband invited a priest named Msgr. Mario Boehm, whom he had met in Rome shortly after his conversion, and who had been one of the top editors of L’Osservatore Romano for many years. The topic of Fatima came up. My husband raised the question, “Why was the third secret of Fatima not revealed?” For the Holy Virgin had said it should be shared with the faithful in 1960.

Don Mario: It was not revealed because of its content. My husband: What was so fearful about it? Msgr. Boehm (as a well-trained Italian) did not say that he had read it, but intimated that the content was fearful: “infiltration of the Church to the very top.” It shattered us but confirmed my husband’s fear that the way Vatican II was interpreted was going to expose the Church to terrible dangers. Alas, this fear was well founded.

The second conversation is one with Bella Dodd that I have already spoken about on previous occasions. We met her in the Fall of 1965 and she visited us here at New Rochelle, NY, where I still live, either in 1966 or 1967. She had been an ardent communist from her student days at Hunter College – a hotbed of communism. (That is why I was systematically persecuted there, as recounted in my book, Memoirs of a Happy Failure.) Bella had sown the seeds of this diabolical philosophy at Hunter, but converted in 1952 under the guidance of Archbishop Fulton Sheen. Let me repeat the conversation between her and my husband:

DvH: I fear the Church has been infiltrated.

Bella: You fear it, dear Professor; I know it! When I was an ardent communist I was working in close contact with four cardinals in the Vatican working for us; and they are still very active today.

DvH: Who are they? My nephew Dieter Sattler is a German stationed at the Holy See.

But Bella, who was under the spiritual guidance of Archbishop Sheen, declined to give him this information.20

In addition, Dodd has stated that she personally recruited over 1,100 seminarians as part of her work as a Communist party member.21The disappointing thing about the Venerable Bp. Sheen, Cd. Ratzinger, and so many other churchmen, is that they place a higher priority upon institutional loyalty and avoiding embarrassment than service to the Truth. For decades, those recruited by Dodd (and likely many others recruited by her former Party colleagues) have continued to undermine the faith unimpeded and unexposed.

There are other reasons to suspect that the full Third Secret has not been released. The text appears to be incomplete based upon what is known about the form in which Sr. Lucia wrote it down. The Third Secret was actually composed of two texts; one is the published four-page text describing the vision and the other is a single-page letter quoting the words of the Virgin Mary. This single page letter is what has been concealed. A two-part structure of the Secret would be consistent with the structure of the other secrets. In the first secret, the children were shown a vision and in the second part or second secret the Holy Mother commented upon what they had seen. In the Third Secret, we have a disturbing vision but no commentary. Structurally, it appears that the commentary portion is missing, the exact part to which Ratzinger, Alice von Hildebrand, and Our Lady of Akita have alluded.

* Note to regular readers: the extended series of meditations on the traditional Mass must be interrupted for the time being, but will resume shortly.

The first General Congregation of the Second Vatican Council began on Saturday, October 13, 1962, exactly 45 years to the day from the Miracle of the Sun at Fatima. Since the Fatima message is directed at the errors of the modern world (particularly “Russia’s errors” of modernism and communism) and the Third Secret warns of a bad council and a bad Mass, it is only natural to see a connection between the opening date of the Council and an anniversary of Mary’s message. The number 45 is not a common “holy number” and appears only very rarely in Scripture, the most intriguing being chapter 12 in the Book of Daniel where God speaks directly to him. It is worth quoting,

At that time Michael the great prince, who stands watch over the sons of your people, shall stand up; and there shall be a time of tribulation, such as never happened until that time, since there was a nation upon the earth. But at that time your people shall be saved, all found written in the book. Then many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to disgrace and everlasting shame (Dan 12: 1-2).

In the Fatima Third Secret, the children also see a great tribulation and an image of a great angel with a flaming sword about to destroy the earth, but his hand is stayed by the Holy Mother. The angel in the vision can easily be interpreted as the great angel Michael. Daniel continues,

Although I heard, I did not understand. So, I said, “My lord, what shall be the end of these things?” He replied, “Go your way, Daniel, for the words are closed up and sealed till the time of the end. Many shall choose to be made white and refined through fire; but the lawless shall act lawlessly. None of the lawless shall understand. From the time the daily sacrifice is taken away and the abomination of desolation is set up, there shall be one thousand two hundred and ninety days. Blessed is he who waits and comes to one thousand three hundred and thirty-five days. But now go your way and rest, for there are yet days to the fulfillment of the end; and you shall rise to your inheritance at the end of the days” (Daniel 12: 8-13).

Of course, the prophecy primarily refers to the destruction of the Jerusalem temple and the Babylonian exile. Those who are “made white” are clearly the saints and those who act “lawlessly” are those who reject God. In the Old Testament, the “daily sacrifice” always refers to the twice daily atoning Tamid sacrifice of the lamb, bread, and wine at the Temple. The “abomination of desolation” is not only the empty Jerusalem temple after it has been sacked and desecrated, but it also refers to the setting up of false idolatrous gods where the true God was once present. In Daniel chapter 12, the number 45 is the difference between the 1335 and 1290 days and draws our attention to a period of painful waiting. Blessed will be those who endure and pass through it. Why is the Holy Mother calling our attention to the opening of the Council, her Fatima message, and this passage in Daniel?

Is October 13, 1962, the first working day of the Second Vatican Council, an unrecognized turning point in the history of the world, not just the Church? Is “the daily sacrifice that will be taken away” the unbloody Tamid sacrifice of the Catholic Mass that will be transformed into the vapid Protestant idea of a groovy community meal supposedly modeled on the Last Supper? Is the “abomination of desolation” the cult of Man of the Novus Ordo Mass as opposed to the cult of God in the authentic traditional Mass? Is the Holy Mother calling our attention yet again to her warning of a “bad council and a bad Mass” and “apostasy beginning at the top?” Is she directly contradicting John XXIII when he said the Third Secret “does not concern the years of my pontificate?” Not only does the number 45 call our attention to the Book of Daniel; the traditional Mass endured 45 years of intense tribulation from 1962, until it was liberated from captivity by Benedict XVI’s pastoral letter Summorum Pontificum in 2007.

Also on October 13, but in 1884, Pope Leo XIII experienced his famous vision of the devil and Jesus engaged in conversation,

Satan says to Jesus: “I can destroy your Church.”
Jesus replies: “You can? Then go ahead and do so.”
Satan: “To do so, I need more time and more power.”
Jesus: “How much time? How much power?
Satan: “75 to 100 years, and a greater power over those who will give themselves over to my service.”
Jesus: “You have the time, you will have the power. Do with them what you will.”¹

After the vision, Pope Leo went immediately to his study and composed the famous Prayer to St. Michael. This prayer was from then on prayed at the end of every low Mass until it was of course suppressed by Paul VI in 1968. Leo’s vision occurred 78 years to the day before the opening of the Second Vatican Council in 1962. The number 78 is also not a prominent Biblical number, but it is interesting that the 78^th verse of Scripture is,

Then the Lord God said, ‘Behold the man has become like one of Us to know good and evil. Now, lest he put out his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever—’” (Genesis 3:22).

Whereupon, God cast Adam and Eve out of the Garden and set an angel with a fiery sword to guard the Tree of Life. The great error of Satan and modernism is to replace God with man, to exalt man to the level of God, or, as God himself says in this verse, “become like one of Us to know good and evil.” In other words, man will decide for himself what is good, which is strictly a prerogative of God. In addition, just like Daniel’s vision and the Third Fatima Secret, we have an avenging angel making an appearance.

The weather in Rome on October 13, 1962, the opening day of the Second Vatican Council, was stormy, brooding, and foreboding. A routine vote was scheduled regarding which of the Council’s representatives would be chosen to examine the schemas drawn up by the Preparatory Commission. However, just as the vote was to begin, there was an unexpected interruption. Cd. Achille Liénart, the archbishop of Lille, approached the presider of the session, Cd. Eugène Tisserant,

“Your Eminence, it is really impossible to vote this way, without knowing anything about the most qualified candidates. If you allow me I ask to take the floor.” “Impossible,” Tisserant replied. “The order of the day does not provide for any debate. We are meeting simply to vote; I cannot give you the floor.”2

Tisserant was correct. What Liénart demanded was completely outside of the rules. Nonetheless, Liénart was on a mission and such token “resistance” didn’t stop him from grabbing the microphone and reading a prepared text demanding that the national conferences be consulted before any vote. When he finished, there was applause from certain quarters of the assembly. Cardinal Frings of Cologne then stood up, took the microphone and expressed his support for Liénart while adding that he also spoke on behalf of fellow German cardinals Döpfner and König. The applause in the hall increased. The German hierarchy was as notoriously heretical and modernist then as it is now and solidly in the vanguard of progressivism in the Church. This vanguard was led by several notable theologians, including Karl Rahner, Hans Küng, and Josef Ratzinger. Küng was advisor to Cd. König and Ratzinger was adviser to Rings and wrote his intervention.3

Cd. Liénart was known in France as “the red cardinal” and his ideas were well known to be “redder than his robes.”4 He was an outspoken modernist who was sympathetic to communism. He was a great supporter of “worker priests,” militant trade unions, and other ultraliberal causes, including the decentralization of the Church along Protestant lines. He was suspected of having joined the Freemasons in 1912 and has been accused of participating in black Masses. In 1976, after his death, his name appeared on a list of high-ranking Church officials who were Freemasons. It was Liénart in 1950 who initiated the process of destructive liturgical “reforms” by petitioning Pius XII to change the Easter Vigil from the morning to the evening. Those changes ultimately led to the complete reorganization of the Easter Week rites by the Freemason Abp. Anatole Bugnini5 in 1955 and ultimately to the Novus Ordo Mass of Saul Alinsky’s friend Paul VI in 1969.6

Later in Bugnini’s career, after his dismissal from the Congregation for Divine Worship in 1975, Cardinal Silvio Oddi, who was at the time a senior diplomat directly serving the pope, confronted Bugnini and told him that he had personally seen Bugnini’s signature on a document proving that he was a Freemason and that he knew from reliable sources that in exchange for his services to the organization, Bugnini was paid a half million liras per month.7 On September 12, 1978, the journalist Carmine “Mino” Pecorelli released a list of prominent Italian Freemasons that contained several extremely high ranking prelates, including Bugnini. Pecorelli himself was a member of the P2 Freemasonic Lodge. On March 20, 1979, a few months after publishing the list, his dead body with four fresh bullet holes was found inside of his Citroën. The car was in Rome’s Prati district, which is just across the Tiber from the Vatican.8 How long he was in the service of organized Freemasonry is unknown with certainty, but Bugnini was unquestionably a leading progressive and liturgical “reformer” for the entirety of his career.9

One of Saul Alinsky’s “rules for radicals” is to use your enemies’ rules against them. A close corollary to that rule is that if the rules can’t be used against them, denounce the rules as illegitimate and ignore them. The end justifies any means. Radicals also dominate organizations and gatherings by causing disturbances. Normal polite people are naturally uncomfortable and intimidated by rudeness and conflict. In this case, the brief conflict between Liénart and Tisserant was purely for show. Tisserant admitted later that he was part of a conspiracy to block the “tyrannical rules” of the Council.10 Like Liénart, Tisserant has been widely accused of Freemasonry.11 He was involved in the secret Moscow-Vatican treaty to refrain from condemning communism and was a key actor in virtually every aspect of the Council and papal conclaves of the era, including acting as Camerlengo in the conclaves that elected John XXIII and Paul VI.

Not surprisingly, instead of ignoring Liénart’s illicit interruption and continuing with the scheduled business, Tisserant acquiesced and halted the session. He informed the pliant John XXIII, who approved the changes. The organizational coup was complete. It had been well-planned and ended up changing the entire structure and direction of the Council within the first hour. Traditionally, Church councils have been called by popes to discuss specific questions prepared well in advance. Episcopal conferences were a relatively new Protestant influenced innovation in the governance of the Church, where the pope had always been considered the unchallenged Supreme Pontiff. The organizers of the coup had also been working diligently within the episcopal conferences for months to put together slates of their own candidates. Taking advantage of their superior organization, the progressive faction immediately took the initiative over the conservatives, who never recovered. In short order, the preparatory work of the Ottaviani schema12 (which will be discussed in greater detail in upcoming posts) was replaced by a council that made its own rules as it went along and created itself. The anti-modernist council that was intended by the vota and even perhaps John XXIII was over before it began and was replaced by its perfect antithesis, where aggiornamento or compromise with the modern world was the goal. The Masonic plotters and their allies in the media shamelessly praised the coup as the “work of the Holy Spirit.”13

Another one of Alinsky’s “rules for radicals” is to use ridicule against your opponents. On October 30, 1962, as the council was already clearly spinning out of control, the aging and trembling statesman Cd. Alfredo Ottaviani14 rose to speak in defense of the Mass. Now nearly blind, he struggled to make out the words he had written in his notes,

The Ordo Missae has been fixed for many centuries; the Mass is the center of all liturgical worship … We are dealing here with an extremely holy matter, which cannot be changed for each generation as it pleases; a matter that is supremely sacred and must be approached with a holy respect and veneration, and should not be touched except in a limited way. Now the words come to mind that God spoke to Moses when he approached the burning bush: “Put off your shoes from your feet, for the place which you are standing is holy ground.” Let us be cautious therefore about proposals to reform the rite of the Mass.15

Beyond being a warning from an elder statesman or even a cri de coeur, Ottaviani’s remarks had some bite. He mentioned that communion under both kinds and concelebration were mysteriously now included in the discussion documents of the Council, even though the Preparatory Commission that he chaired had decisively rejected both just weeks before. He strongly denounced the maneuver.16 Ottaviani exceeded the ten minute limit for his remarks. Cardinal Bernardus Alfrink,17 the presider of the session, rang the bell for Ottaviani to stop, but he did not hear it. Alfrink gave the order to cut off the microphone. The liberal section of the assembly hall began to applaud. Surprised, Ottaviani looked up and stopped speaking and slowly retreated to his seat, visibly drained and humiliated. Alfrink was a Dutch cardinal and a close collaborator of the Freemason Liénart. Alfrink became known for discouraging confession, encouraging communion in the hand, communion under both species, supporting artificial contraception, and supporting the heretical Edward Schillebeeckx and the notorious Dutch catechism to which he gave his imprimatur in 1966, even though Schillebeeckx and the catechism both questioned every dogma of the Church and could more properly be called an “anti-catechism.”

As the council progressed, there were many troubling innovations proposed and approved by the Council Fathers. One of the most common techniques was the use of studied ambiguity that could be used to obscure the true changes that were being proposed to church teachings on a wide range of topics, including religious liberty, ecumenism, and collegiality (reducing the role of the pope in governing the Church). Nowhere was there a condemnation of modernism in any of its forms.

However, our main focus here is the sacrifice of the Mass. The Conciliar document that dealt with liturgy is Sacrosanctum concilium. The document addressed the topics of greater participation of the laity such as greater participation in chant or other responses, allowing for vernacular where appropriate, and perhaps more biblical readings. However, even though it was created under the influence of men such as Bugnini, the troubled document never and nowhere calls for what became the most common liturgical abuses. There was no call to eliminate Latin, turn the altars away from God, take communion in the hand, invite the laity into the sanctuary, move tabernacles to closets, vandalize traditional churches and turn them into public meeting spaces, eliminate chant and replace it with sappy pop songs, replace traditional art with felt wall-hangings, introduce altar girls, or even to offer unlimited alternative “canons” now to be called “Eucharistic prayers”; but, in particular, there was no approval for transforming the priest into a presider/performer who creates the liturgy as the mood strikes him or his congregation. The myth of a “Spirit of Vatican II” has been created by modernists to justify anything and everything they want to do, even if their “reforms” were nowhere contemplated by the Council and even in many cases specifically forbidden (such as the elimination of Latin). Since the documents of the Council are noted for their unreadability, very few people have actually read them or even care to.

* Note to regular readers: the extended series of meditations on the traditional Mass must be interrupted for the time being, but will resume shortly.

Novus Ordo churches typically do not have altar rails or gates as the design of these Protestant influenced churches diminishes the reality of the Sacrifice, the Real Presence, and therefore the sharp distinction between the holy sanctuary and its precincts — not to mention the essential difference between the priesthood and the laity.

At the Offertory, the acolytes close the altar gates allowing only official ministers to be present in the sanctuary (i.e., no lectors, Eucharistic ministers, or women1), just as only official ministers were allowed to be present behind the inner gates of the Jerusalem Temple for the mystery of the bloody and unbloody sacrifices there. The gates are opened again after the ablutions at the conclusion of the Mass.

After the Lavabo, the priest returns to the center of the altar ready to fulfill his primary purpose — the offering of the Passion. He is not here just as a priest, but specifically as the High Priest of the order of Melchizedek. He prays to the Holy Trinity, just as Jesus humbly prayed to the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane to accept his sacrifice. He turns to the people and says, “Orate fratres” or “Pray brethren,” and continues the prayer silently as he makes a complete circle to face the altar again. The extending and rejoining hands gesture seen at the Collect and the beginning of the Offertory is repeated as he circles to indicate the revealing of heaven. The circle indicates the opening of heaven in readiness to receive the offering that is about to be made. Heaven will not be closed until he turns in a circle again after the Communion. He alone concludes with “Amen.”2 The in persona Christi priest now explicitly assumes the identity of the High Priest of the order of Melchizedek, who is both the priest (offeror) and the Sacrifice (offering) simultaneously as he asks his Father to accept his sacrifice.

Brethren, pray that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the Father almighty.3

Since Jesus alone is the “sacrifice with which the Father is well pleased,” all those present ask that heaven be opened for the specific purpose of accepting this sacrifice of Melchizedek, which since it is the offering of God back to God is the highest possible offering. However, the people who are not priests, ask that Melchizedek as Priest receive the sacrifice of Melchizedek as the Son of God4, not to his benefit since he doesn’t need it, but to our benefit and the benefit of His holy Church, which is his Body of which we are adopted “members.”

May the Lord receive the sacrifice at thy hands, to the praise and glory of his name5, to our own benefit and to that of all His holy Church.6

The priest reads the Secret, a prayer describing the offerings “super secreta“ or “set apart” from the usual offerings. The Secret changes every day based on the liturgical calendar. It ties the specific feast or saint of the day to the sacrificial offering on the altar. Traditional Secrets strongly emphasize propitiation, sacrifice, and unworthiness, asking God to cleanse the sins of both the priest and the congregation so that the offering may be acceptable.7

At the Orate Fratres, when the priest makes his circular turn, infinity has been revealed and heaven has been opened. We pray to see through the portal. In the Preface, we pray and indicate our readiness to be elevated to heaven. We express our desire to enter into the eternal Sacrifice when the priest enjoins, “Lift up your hearts,” and we respond, “We lift them up to the Lord,” in other words to Jesus, who is now naturally present at the right hand of the Father. The laity add absolutely nothing of their own to the continuous Sacrifice occurring outside of time in eternal time.8 We are simply joined with what has already occurred, is occurring, and will occur. We are simply joined into the perfect peace and endlessness of God’s uncreated eternal time.

As the Sanctus begins, the sanctus bells are rung, and the torchbearers process into the sanctuary. Remembering that the bells are meant to represent Old Testament trumpets, we can see how these “trumpets” announce the opening of heaven revealing to us in the here and now the choirs of angels in heaven singing their eternal hymn of praise to God and to his Son.9

The torchbearers kneel to form two straight lines on each side of the sanctuary, facing inward toward each other (in choro).

This formation creates a literal “corridor of light” down the center of the sanctuary, framing the altar and mimicking the luminous choirs of angels adoring the Throne of God. They remain kneeling through the entire Canon, the Elevations of the Host and Chalice, and up through the Communion. The torchbearers function as an aperture focusing our attention on the Holy of Holies which the the High Priest has opened and entered.

“Jesus answered, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14:6).

The torchbearers represent “the way,” but it is explicitly the light of Christ that illuminates.

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12)

The servers become living sanctuary lamps, providing light and splendor to surround the Blessed Sacrament. When torchbearers are present at a High Mass, they replace the Sanctus Candle10 of the Low Mass.

For thou wilt light my candle: Yahweh, my God will enlighten my darkness (Psalm 18:28).

The thurifer incensing the altar represents the Shekinah, the presence cloud of God that the Hebrews followed in the desert. The candles represent the pillar of fire. However, in the New Covenant, it is revealed to us that the incense and the candles are the Holy Spirit and Christ. The flame represents Christ’s divinity, the candle itself signifies his humanity, and the wick symbolizes his soul. Liturgical candles have to contain pure beeswax, since bees who make wax are virgins and of course our Lord received his humanity from a virgin. Candles also represent sacrifice, since for most of history candles were an expensive luxury. Like all liturgical candles, the burning torches represent a sacrificial offering, as the wax is fully consumed to give light, mirroring Christ’s total gift of Himself in the Eucharist

He is the light leading us, illuminating, and guiding us to the Holy of Holies where he is present. However, it is not just the Son who is present, it is God in his fullness.

“Jesus answered: ‘Don’t you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?’” (John 14:9).

Since heaven is now open, we are given a glimpse of the heavenly choirs of angels in the concluding lines of the Common Preface:

It is truly meet and just, right and availing until salvation, that we should at all times and places give thanks unto Thee, O holy Lord, Father almighty and everlasting God, through Christ our Lord. Through whom the angels praise thy majesty, the dominions worship it, the powers stand in awe. The heavens, and the heavenly hosts, and the blessed seraphim join together in celebrating their joy. With whom we pray Thee join our voices also, while we say with lowly praise...11

This is where the three highest levels of angels give praise to God, culminating with the highest level of angels of all, the seraphim, who are closest to the throne of God and literally burn with his love. In the Sanctus12 which follows, we hear their song of praise as recorded in Isaiah’s vision of the Lord on his throne, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isaiah 6:3). “Holy” is mentioned three times because each person of the divine Trinity is present on the throne in heaven, though he is still only one God, “the Lord of hosts.” Only the Son is incarnate, but all three Persons cooperate in saving mankind.

The next verses of the Sanctus come from Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday where the people cry, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” (Luke 19: 38). The allusion to Palm Sunday in the life of Christ means that the events of his Passion during Holy Week are close to beginning—events are moving closer to their climax (the Elevation). The acclamation itself actually comes from Psalm 117, the first part of which was sung by the people during the procession on the Feast of Tabernacles or Booths and the last part by the Levitical choir when the procession entered into the Temple. Of course, the Feast of Tabernacles commemorates the harvest or “ingathering” and the coming home of the Jewish people, who during their exile and wandering in the desert lived in tents or booths. The triumphant entry of Jesus into the earthly Jerusalem on Palm Sunday is a type of Christ the King’s triumphant entry into the New Jerusalem of heaven leading his ingathered people. The Tamid lamb is also bringing his Sacrifice that is “well-pleasing” to the Father in order to win his ingathered people entry into the throne room or “Temple” of God. At the Sanctus, the faithful are hoping to enter and await the entry of the sacrificed Tamid lamb to open the way.

Since heaven is now open and therefore the events on the altar are now occurring outside of time, the priest prays for the Church Militant here on earth, but also invokes the Church Triumphant in heaven as recognition that the Church spans the realms of the living, the dead, and those who are still to come. This Mass connects us all. Latin undoes the curse of Babel and lets us speak a common language as one Church, one people, and one humanity across time.

The Communicantes prayer lists the Holy Mother, Apostles, and Martyrs. We pray to be in communion with the saints who are “the 144,000”13 arrayed before the Lamb in heaven.

These are the ones who were not defiled with women, for they are virgins. These are the ones who follow the Lamb wherever He goes. These were redeemed from among men, being firstfruits to God and to the Lamb (Revelation 14:4).

When we gaze into heaven through the portal opened by the Mass, these are the saints that we would see clearly if only we were not trapped by sin into fallen sequential time. They are the “first fruits” of humanity who are in the eternal presence of the Lamb.

While we can each look through, we cannot yet enter because the Bridegroom has not yet come. He is still the Bridegroom hidden in the tomb.14 The Bridegroom consummates his betrothal to us on the Cross where he wears his groom’s crown.15

It is at the Consecration where the incarnate God makes himself physically as well as spiritually present. Up until the Consecration, the gifts are hidden by the priest’s body from the congregation so we cannot actually see them nor directly see into the Holy of Holies. At the upcoming Elevation, the Incarnation is raised high and revealed for the world to see.

“And whoever sees me sees him who sent me” (John 12:45).

The only way for the Father to be seen and made fully known is through the image of the Son.

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation (Colossians 1:15).

Many things happen symbolically and in reality in the Mass. The Consecration as we will discuss in an upcoming post, is the most real thing that happens in the Mass or could ever happen anywhere in the universe. An actual incarnation occurs, not just a reference to a historical incarnation, where God who is pure Existence becomes newly present in the flesh under the accidents of bread and wine. Simultaneously, at the Consecration and Elevation, the Crucifixion occurs. This is more than simply fitting; it must be so, since the purpose of the Incarnation is the Crucifixion.

“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say? Father, save me from this hour? But it is for this reason that I came to this hour” (John 12:27).

The torchbearers function as an honor guard until after Communion when the tabernacle is closed. It is then that they stand, make the proper reverences, and return the torches to the sacristy to be extinguished.

Now that the offerings have been prepared, the priest washes his hands. The next time he touches the offerings, they will actually be the transubstantiated body and blood of Christ, not merely blessed bread and wine. He prays and washes his fingertips in the lavabo, just as Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, to indicate that he has been thoroughly purified down to the tips of his extremities. In the Old Testament, Yahweh instructs Moses to make a laver of bronze immediately after he has instructed him to make a golden altar for the sacrifice of incense. Speaking of Aaron and his sons, Yahweh says,

“When they go into the tabernacle of testimony, they shall wash with water lest they die, or when they come near the altar to minister and to offer whole burnt offerings to the Lord” (Exodus 30:20).

In the Jerusalem Temple, not only the priests washed. The men who entered into the Temple to stand in the Court of Israel also needed to be ritually purified. This was done in massive mikvah baths just outside the Temple entrance where Peter later baptized thousands at Pentecost (Acts 2:41). At a Catholic church, this ritual purification occurs when the people dip their fingers into the fonts of holy water at each entrance and cross themselves. With this gesture they also renew their baptism.

The New Covenant in persona Christi priest will undergo a ritual purification as well before making his offering and entering into the Holy of Holies. To enter into the Holy of Holies or to touch anything sacred unworthily is death, both physical death and spiritual damnation.

In the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM), the Lavabo represents the priest’s desire for interior purification, humbling himself before handling the Holy Eucharist by washing his hands while reciting an excerpt from Psalm 25, symbolizing a “clean heart” to match the outward washing. It signifies a transition from the Offertory to the solemn Canon of the Mass, recalling the need for spiritual cleanliness before approaching God.

I will wash my hands in innocence; So I will go about Your altar, O Lord, That I may hear the voice of praise And tell of all Your wondrous works. O Lord, I love the beauty of Your house, And the place where Your glory dwells. Do not destroy my soul with the ungodly, Nor my life with men of blood, In whose hands is lawlessness; Their right hand is full of bribes. But as for me, I walk in my innocence; Redeem me and have mercy on me. For my foot stands in uprightness; In the churches I will bless You, O Lord (Psalm 25:6-12)

When there is an allusion to a quote from Scripture, it is always fruitful to look up the entire passage to see more fully what is being said.1 Reviewing the complete psalm uncovers a fascinating indirect reference pointing to Pontius Pilate. At this part of the Mass, our thoughts are already being led in his direction by remembering that the most famous “washing of hands” in the Scriptures is performed by Pilate after he condemns Jesus to the Cross. The “washing of hands” is the final act before the bloody Passion and its re-presentation in the Canon begin in earnest.

When Pilate saw that he could not prevail at all, but rather that a tumult was rising, he took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, “I am innocent of the blood of this just Person. You see to it” (Matthew 27:24).

This is a symbolic gesture disclaiming responsibility. Whether Pilate himself was aware of it, this gesture reflected Jewish custom to declare innocence of a murder.

“If anyone is found slain in the land the Lord your God gives you to inherit, and is fallen in the open field, and it is not known who killed him, then your elders and your judges shall go out and measure the distance from the slain man to the surrounding cities. Then it shall be the elder of the city nearest to the slain man will take a heifer from the oxen which has not been worked and pulled with a yoke. The elders of that city shall bring the heifer down to a rocky valley, neither plowed nor sown, and they shall hamstring the heifer there in the valley. Then the priests, the Levites, shall come near, for the Lord your God chose them to be present for Him and to bless in His name; by their word every controversy and every assault shall be settled. After this, all the elders of that city nearest to the slain man shall wash their hands over the heifer which was hamstrung in the valley. Then they shall answer and say, ‘Our hands have not shed this blood, nor have our eyes seen it (Deuteronomy 21:1-7).

After Pilate’s remarks and washing of hands, the crowd doubles down.

And all the people answered and said, “His blood be on us and on our children.” Then he released Barabbas to them; and when he had scourged Jesus, he delivered Him to be crucified (Matthew 27:25-6).

However if we go back and continue with the passage from Deuteronomy quoted previously, the very next verses are,

Be merciful, O Lord, to Your people Israel, whom You redeemed from the land of Egypt, so there may be no bloodguiltiness among Your people Israel.’ Thus the blood shall atone for them. And you shall put away the guilt of their innocent blood from among you, if you do what is good and pleasing before the Lord your God (Deuteronomy 21: 8-9).

As disgusted as we may often be by the serial faithlessness and viciousness of the Jews, Jesus forgives them and his blood atones for them immediately after they reject him and call down curses upon themselves and their children. Their murder of him and his shedding of blood for their atonement occurs inseparably as part of the very same act. As followers of Christ, we must always and everywhere reject any “bloodguiltiness” and do as our Lord does. The paradoxical pattern of an injury being transformed into an atoning and redemptive sacrifice is the fundamental pattern of the Christian moral life. This is how evil is transformed into good. This is how Jesus and we turn injury into saving grace. This is why evil always loses and only wins if we let it. This is why God allows evil so that greater good can come from it. It is the only way that evil can be defeated — by being turned back upon itself.

Keeping this in mind, we can better understand the key differences between Pilate’s act and the act of the in persona Christi priest in the Mass, who is fully vested (wearing the maniple and chasuble), and engaged in his work of Eucharistic sacrifice at the lavabo. If the hand washing were simply a “re-presentation” of Pilate’s act, then why have the alter Christus do it? Why not have another functionary such as one who represents “Old Testament man” do it?2 After all, it is the Old Testament Jews who are demanding Jesus’s blood. If Pilate is washing his guilt, then perhaps the alter Christus is fulfilling and “washing” Pilate's and the Old Testament Jews guilt with this act? However, hand washing alone may not be enough to remind us of Pilate. The Mass begins its quote of Psalm 25 with verse 6, but its really the “hidden” verse 5 preceding it that points us toward Pilate.

I hate the assembly of evildoers, And I will not sit with the ungodly. I will wash my hands in innocence; So I will go about Your altar, O Lord, That I may hear the voice of praise And tell of all Your wondrous works. O Lord, I love the beauty of Your house, And the place where Your glory dwells. Do not destroy my soul with the ungodly, Nor my life with men of blood...(Psalm 25:5-9)

"I hate the assembly of evildoers, and I will not sit with the ungodly” perfectly expresses Pilate’s contempt for the Jewish leadership whom Pilate correctly sees as selfish hypocrites murdering their King and their God.

In addition to what we know from the gospel accounts, the historian Flavius Josephus records several key incidents in The Antiquities of the Jews and The Jewish War that highlight Pilate’s disregard for Jewish religious sensitivities. While the Gospels focus on Pilate’s role in the trial of Jesus, these secular accounts suggest his general governance was marked by a frequent, calculated use of provocation and force to maintain control and assert Roman superiority.

For example, early in his term, Pilate snuck military standards bearing the Emperor’s image into Jerusalem under the cover of night—a direct violation of Jewish law against images. When Jews protested in Caesarea, he surrounded them with soldiers and threatened death. He only relented when the protesters bared their necks, showing they were willing to die rather than see their laws transgressed.3

Pilate seized sacred Temple funds (the Corban) to build an aqueduct for Jerusalem. When the people protested, he sent soldiers disguised in civilian clothing into the crowd with hidden clubs. At his signal, they beat the protesters, killing many.4

Pilate was eventually removed from office after his violent suppression of a Samaritan gathering at Mount Gerizim, which led to a formal complaint to the Syrian governor.5

However, while these acts of force may or may not have been justified by Roman law and policy, the personal contempt Pilate felt for the Jewish authorities is best demonstrated when the “Jews” came and asked him to change what he had written on the Titulus Crucis (sign on Jesus’s Cross).6 He refuses and mocks them.

Pilate “washes his hands,” but in reality he hasn’t washed a thing. There is no removal of guilt of his own or anyone else’s. It is purely an act of arrogant contempt, returning evil for evil. When the alter Christus washes his hands, there is perfect removal of guilt and humble atonement. However, Pilate’s dramatic but empty gesture contrasts and points us toward Christ who will wash with blood in the Passion and later in the Mass.

Other than washing his hands, Pilate is probably just as well known for asking the question, “What is Truth?”

Pilate therefore said to Him, “Are You a king then?” Jesus answered, “You say rightly that I am a king. For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice.” Pilate said to Him, “What is truth?” And when he had said this, he went out again to the Jews, and said to them, “I find no fault in Him at all. “But you have a custom that I should release someone to you at the Passover. Do you therefore want me to release to you the King of the Jews?” Then they all cried again, saying, “Not this Man, but Barabbas!” Now Barabbas was a robber (John 18:37-40).

Even earlier in Psalm 25, just before the section quoted in the Mass, it says,

For your mercy is before my eyes, and I was well pleasing in your truth (Psalm 25:3).

Since these are supernaturally inspired texts reflecting the infinite Mind of God, burrowing deeper reveals ever more insights. The word translated as “well-pleasing” here is ευαρεστεω or euaresteo. In the Old Testament it appears several times7 in reference to Abram’s faith being “well-pleasing” to God, but also to Rebecca8 at the well where she agrees to be the wife of Isaac. Isaac is the sacrificial forerunner of Jesus and it is at a well where Jesus meets the Samaritan woman and proclaims to her that he is the “living water” she seeks. It is the faithful sacrifice of “the true Isaac” and the “living water” which are about to be re-presented and made real by the in persona Christi priest. Jesus abundantly fulfills and surpasses every promise and every expectation—sometimes almost comically so. Perhaps that is why a contrast to our meager efforts as represented by Pilate’s empty actions is necessary for us to be able to see it.

In the New Testament, euaresteo only appears in Paul’s epistle to the Hebrews.9 The first two appearances are references to the faith of Enoch saving him from death and the last is how pleasing sacrifice and worship are to God. Don’t those two ideas encapsulate very well what the Mass is about? How wonderful!

“Truth” is the Greek word αληθεια or aletheia. Not only is Pilate confronted with Truth standing before him, the person of Jesus is also “mercy before his eyes” as he is the Tamid lamb, the New Isaac about to be slaughtered in reparation for our sins by Pilate’s command.

The Crucifixion is of course the ultimate act of divine Mercy. Also, if as St. Augustine and Eastern Chuches believe, Pilate does ultimately convert, then the rest of the Psalm is a beautiful prayer that he might have very well said.10 As it is, it is read by the in persona Christi priest as a plea for his own worthiness.

When the paten was held in front of the eyes of the “Old Testament man,” the subdeacon, it signified the blindness of the Jews and pagans as well as the abandonment by the apostles in contrast to the devotion of the holy women who tended to Jesus. It is the forgiveness won by Christ that takes away the blindness caused by our sins and allows us to see with the eyes of faith. It is this murderous blindness of the Jews that Pilate attempts to wash away, but as an “Old Testament man” cannot. Only Jesus can as represented by the conversion of the pagans (such as Pilate) and eventually the Jews11 and the removing of the paten before the face of the “Old Testament” subdeacon during the Pater Noster (Our Father), specifically at the words “et dimitte nobis” (”and forgive us our trespasses”).

He has been holding the paten veiled before his eyes—blocking his view of the altar—since the Offertory. Lowering it at this exact moment in the Lord’s Prayer signifies the removal of spiritual blindness and the newfound worthiness of the Jews (and us) to look upon our Lord because of the atoning Passion that was just re-presented. This occurs just before the Fraction of the Host (the Resurrection). The subdeacon then carries the uncovered paten to the priest to prepare for Communion which he is now worthy to receive because “your mercy is before my eyes” and he is now “well pleasing in your truth.” Because of the faithfulness newly won for him by Christ, we will now all participate in at Communion by drinking his blood and gnawing his flesh.

We also cannot get away from the fact that this is one of two places in the Mass where a soudarion is prominently used as a handkerchief or towel. Is this a connection to the soudarion placed on Jesus’s face in the tomb? The soudarion is the first “witness” to “see” the resurrection as Jesus’s newly resurrected facial image is imprinted upon it. It invites us to enter “into the tomb” where the Bridegroom will consummate and fulfill his betrothal to each of us. That requires entering into heaven which will be opened at the Orate Fratres next.

N.B. Part I can be found here.

The Offertory is the first time liturgical bells are used, specifically when the chalice veil is “stripped” from the chalice. It is the call to let us know that the events of the Sacrifice are now beginning. Bells are the New Covenant equivalent of trumpets in the Old Covenant.

Also in the day of your gladness, in your appointed feasts, and at the beginning of your months, you shall blow the trumpets over your burnt offerings and over the sacrifices of your peace offerings; and they shall be a memorial for you before your God: I am the LORD your God (Numbers 10:10).

Yahweh explicitly oversees every detail of the lives of his Chosen People with the Mosaic Law. Trumpet calls are specified by Yahweh through Moses in the Book of Numbers for a variety of reasons, from announcing the breaking of camp to signals of war. They are not to be seen as simply calls to attention, but as a memorial or a remembrance for the people while they are offering sacrifice, particularly the burnt offerings, which would include the main covenant offerings, sin offerings, thanksgiving offerings, and peace offerings.

“But when the people are to be gathered together, the sound of the trumpets shall be plain, and they shall not make a broken sound” (Numbers 10:7).

Yahweh prescribes long blasts so that the trumpets taken together make one continuous sound. Since it is impractical for trumpets to be present at every offering of the Mass, the Church long ago replaced the unbroken sound of trumpets with the unbroken sound of bells. That is why altar bells (also called “sanctus bells”) do not ring a single note, but are designed with four bells connected by a handle so that they can make a continuous pealing sound when rung by a single acolyte. So, when we hear the altar bells rung at Mass, we should be reminded of a trumpet blast. The bells are rung at similar times to when the trumpets were sounded at the Jerusalem Temple. In the Temple, the trumpets sounded when the gates were opened to let in the people and when the morning and afternoon Tamid sacrifice occurred. The bells at Mass are rung at the beginning of the Canon to announce that the Sacrifice is about to begin with the preparation of the chalice and then at the Sanctus when the gates of heaven are opened allowing us to glimpse inside. They are rung again at the laying of the sins of the people onto the Sacrificial Victim (Hostia) at the Hanc Igitur. They are then rung at the Consecration to announce the transubstantiation of the bread and wine to our Lord’s body and blood. They are rung at the Minor Elevation when the Sacrifice is raised to God by the high priest. Finally, they are rung when the Sacrificial Victim is consumed by the priest to complete the sacrifice. In the Novus Ordo, prayers after the consumption of the sacrifice by the priest and communion for the people have been eliminated making it appear that the bell is not being rung to call attention to the completion of the sacrifice of the Mass, but is rather a dinner bell to alert the people that they will now be served by the priest standing behind a counter or a “team member” in street clothes.1 Bells are not used between the Gloria on Holy Thursday and the Gloria at the Easter Vigil but are instead replaced by wooden clappers to remind us of the wood of the cross and the clatter of hammers.

These trumpet blasts are announcing the imminent appearance of the immanent Lord himself. After blessing and offering the gifts, mixing water with the wine, the priest prays the prayer of the three young men of Israel in the fiery furnace as described in the book of Daniel. They heroically refused to worship the massive golden idol set up by King Nebuchadnezzar and chose martyrdom instead. Of course, idolatry in all its forms was a particular concern in the ancient world, for the Gentiles as well as the Jews, and continues to be so today — perhaps even more so. We have already acknowledged Yahweh as the Messiah the world has been looking for in the Kyrie and joyfully gave thanks for the revelation of the Trinity and the birth of Christ in the Gloria. Here we humbly acknowledge our own failings and beg for salvation by quoting from Azariah’s prayer from within the fiery furnace.

In the spirit of humility and with a contrite heart receive us, O Lord, and grant that the sacrifice which we offer this day in Thy sight, may be pleasing unto Thee, O Lord God (Daniel 3:39-40).2

While the prayer mentions the themes appropriate for their situation and ours at the Mass, it explicitly begs Yahweh for deliverance.

“Bless the Lord, O Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael, And sing a hymn to Him, And exalt Him beyond measure unto the ages; For He delivered us from Hades And saved us from the hand of death. He rescued us from the midst of the burning fiery furnace And saved us from the midst of the fire. Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, Because His mercy endures forever. Bless the Lord, the God of gods, All you who worship Him, And sing a hymn and give thanks to Him; For His mercy endures forever” (Daniel 3:88-90).

Not only does Azariah praise and acknowledge the Lord (Yahweh) as the God of gods, for saving them from the realm of the dead (Hades),3 he goes even further. Yahweh appears himself in their midst in the furnace and accomplishes their deliverance not just from physical harm, but from apostasy and paganism. He does not accomplish it by eliminating the threat, such as by quenching the fire, but by walking and talking with them, thus sharing their predicament and providing the grace and encouragement to overcome.

Now Nebuchadnezzar heard their singing, and he marveled and rose up in haste, and said to his nobles, “Did we not cast three men bound into the fire?” They replied to the king, “Truly, O king.” Then the king said, “Behold, I see four men untied and walking in the midst of the fire, yet they are not destroyed; and the vision of the fourth is like the Son of God.” Then the king approached the door of the burning fiery furnace, and called out to them by name, “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, servants of the Most High God, come forth and come here!” So Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego came forth from the midst of the fire (Daniel 3:91-93).

This is flabbergasting! The Fathers who gave us the Mass point us not only in the direction of deliverance with of the story of the three young men in the furnace, but also deliverance that will be accomplished through the actual physical appearance of the Second Person of the Trinity in our midst as is about to occur at the Consecration in the Mass. As a rule, Yahweh refuses to delegate our deliverance to functionaries and always eagerly does the work himself. The liturgy next explicitly invokes the Holy Spirit.

Come, O almighty and eternal God, the Sanctifier, and bless this Sacrifice, prepared for the glory of Thy holy name.4

“Sanctifier” is only used once in the Mass and is another name for the Holy Spirit. The holy name of God is Yahweh or Jesus. The Holy Spirit is commonly associated with the image of fire. Since the episode is in direct response to a challenge where the young men insist that their God will indeed save them and triumph over the false “god” set up by Nebuchadnezzar, the theophany is not just of the Son, but also the Holy Spirit who shows his triumphant power by transforming the fire meant for their destruction into a saving fire that not only saves the young men from peril, but transforms Nebuchadnezzar himself by inspiring him to convert to the God of the Jews.

The Sacrifice mentioned here can be no one other than Jesus, since offering him back to the Father is the sacrifice of the Mass which is the re-presentation of the sacrifice of Calvary. In the Consecration coming up next in the Mass, the Son of God will appear and be with us in the midst of our tribulation in the fiery furnace of Satan’s realm5 that we live in. Of course, the next “fiery” thing that happens in the Mass is incensing, which is causes the sanctification of the incensed object and indicates the rising of our prayers to God. Fire totally immolates incense. When we and the gifts are incensed, it indicates our total self-giving to God which we ask to be accomplished as part of the total self-giving of the Son to the Father through his Sacrifice.

The liturgy next asks for the intercession of the archangel Michael who is standing at the altar of incense in heaven. This is logical because St. Michael is the guardian angel of the elect or the “chosen people.” Michael was revered as the special patron and guardian of the Israelites, but with their rejection of Jesus Christ, his role transitioned to becoming the guardian of the new chosen people, which made him a special patron of the Church. Tradition holds that Michael is also the “Angel of Death” who assists the souls of the elect in their transition to heaven, protecting them from demonic interference during their final moments. That is why it is so appropriate for the Mass to pay special attention to Michael as we re-present and celebrate the passage of the new chosen people to the true Promised Land of heaven made possible by Christ’s Passion.

Beyond being the guardian of the elect, Michael is also traditionally invoked as the guardian angel of the Pope and the guardian of the Blessed Sacrament, which is about to be confected by the priest before us.

Another angel, having a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense, that he should offer it with prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, ascended before God from the angel’s hand (Revelation 8: 3-4).

The smoke of the incense reaches God through the mediation of an angel, both in the ancient Jerusalem Temple and in the heavenly Jerusalem Temple. The altar of incense in the Jerusalem Temple was placed just in front of the Holy of Holies where God was in repose making it the most sacred place in ancient Judaism. Of course, the priest at the Mass incenses the altar, which is placed just in front of the tabernacle, the Holy of Holies where God in the Eucharistic species is in repose making it the most sacred place in Christianity. The incense is to be burned each morning and each night.

“Aaron shall burn upon it find compounded incense every morning when he tends the lamps, he shall burn incense on it. When Aaron lights the lamps in the evening, he shall burn incense on it” (Exodus 30: 7).

Even though the Tamid sacrifice consists of a morning and evening lamb being sacrificed, the morning and evening lambs together were considered one single Tamid sacrifice; therefore, the incense is burned in the morning before the day’s Tamid sacrifice begins. The Catholic priest does the same. He burns the incense before he re-presents the Eucharistic Tamid sacrifice in the Mass with its bloody and unbloody sacrifices and double consecrations. Note that Yahweh specifically assigns the task to Aaron, who is the Levitical “high” priest, not just any “chief” priest or functionary. In the Mass, only the “high” priest incenses the outside of the Tabernacle, not the deacon or acolyte. Deacons, subdeacons and acolytes are able to incense at various parts of the liturgy, but only the high priest is to incense the Holy of Holies itself. Eventually, it became a common practice in the Jerusalem Temple for the high priest to delegate6 the task of burning incense to another priest from the line of Aaron, which is why Zechariah was incensing when the angel Gabriel7 appeared announcing Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy with John the Baptist. Functioning as the high priest was a once in a lifetime honor for Zechariah.

So it was, that while he was serving as priest before God in the order of his division, according to the custom of the priesthood, his lot fell to burn incense when he went into the temple of the Lord (Luke 1:8-9).

After incensing the altar, the priest in the Mass then quotes Psalm 140:2,

“Let my prayer, O Lord, be directed as incense in Thy sight; the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.”

Both Psalm 140 and 141 were sung at the Jerusalem Temple during the afternoon incense offering each day. The theme of both psalms is to ask God to protect and deliver David from sin and sinners.

The purpose of the korban of the morning Tamid, upon which the confession of the people’s sins was made over the animal prior to sacrifice, was to sanctify the covenant people and allow them (priests and laity alike) to “draw near” to God during the day. The purpose of the korban of the afternoon Tamid was to keep the covenant people in fellowship with God and to preserve them from falling into sin as the second Tamid lamb burned on the altar throughout the night. However, the Tamid served as more than the means of atonement and covenant sanctification for the people of Israel. The Tamid was also a sign of the hope for the future sanctification for all the peoples of the earth, as expressed by the first century AD Jewish philosopher and theologian, Philo of Alexandria. Addressing the singular importance of the Tamid, he wrote: Accordingly, it is commanded that every day the priests should offer up two lambs, one at the dawn of the day, and the other in the evening; each of them being a sacrifice of thanksgiving; the one for the kindnesses which have been bestowed during the day, and the other for the mercies which have been vouchsafed in the night, which God is incessantly and uninterruptedly pouring upon the race of men (The Works of Philo, Special Laws, I. 35 [169]; emphasis added).8

The “evening sacrifice” portion of the Tamid was at 3pm, the time of Jesus’ death on the Cross. It is his Sacrifice which protects us from sin, sanctifies us and gives us hope for a future reward. As Psalm 140 says, the Catholic priest “lifts up his hands” with David the priest-king, just as Jesus lifted up his hands to stretch them on the Cross in an embrace of humanity and in supplication to the Father. The in persona Christi Catholic priest is preparing to re-present exactly these events for exactly the same purpose.

The priest closes this portion of the liturgy by again invoking sanctifying fire and love.

May the Lord kindle within us the fire of His love, and the flame of everlasting charity, Amen.9

Once everyone and everything in the sanctuary have been incensed, an acolyte goes to the communion rail and incenses the people to indicate that everyone present will be offering themselves alongside the sacrifice on the altar.

The Offertory has rightly been seen as the re-presentation of the Presentation of Jesus. Luke records that 40 days after the birth of Jesus, Mary and Joseph brought him to the Temple.

Now when the days of her purification according to the law of Moses were completed, they brought Him to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every male who opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord ”), and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the law of the Lord, “A pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons” (Luke 2:22-24).

This is in direct response to the Mosaic law.

When the days of her purification are fulfilled, whether for a son or a daughter, she is to bring to the priest a lamb of the first year as a whole burnt offering, and a young pigeon or a turtledove as a sin offering, to the door of the tabernacle of testimony. Then he shall bring it before the Lord and make atonement for her, and it will cleanse her from her flow of blood. This is the law for her who bore a male or a female. But if she is unable to afford a lamb, she may bring two turtledoves or two young pigeons—one as a whole burnt offering and the other as a sin offering. So the priest shall make atonement for her, and she will be clean’ ” (Leviticus 12:6-8).

A tendency of the modern Church is to insult the Holy Family by casting them in neo-Marxist terms— as poor and marginalized. The reality is that Joseph was working class. In the Greek, the word used to describe him is τεκτων or tekton which means a craftsman, particularly a carpenter (Matthew 13:55, Mark 6:3). On Christmas night the Holy Family stayed in the stable because there was “no room at the inn,” not because they were indigent migrants who could not afford to pay their way. Likely because of this bias, the standard interpretation of their actions at the Presentation is that since she and Joseph presented a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons, they must have been too poor to bring a lamb. Looking more closely at the text, all Luke does is partially quote Leviticus. He does not say anything about why they did or didn’t bring a lamb. The truth is that they brought Jesus and “presented Him to the Lord.” Jesus is of course the perfect Lamb of Salvation, the one sacrifice with which the Father is well pleased. If the Holy Family had tried to only bring one dove or pigeon that would have fulfilled the law but also caused a scandal. Of course, Simeon the scribe and Anna the prophetess10 recognize exactly this.

Then Simeon blessed them, and said to Mary His mother, “Behold, this Child is destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign which will be spoken against “(yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed” (Luke 2:34-5).

The public revelation of Jesus’s identity was meant to occur in the future at the wedding at Cana. Jesus was to remain “veiled” until then. So, instead Mary and Joseph fully satisfy the Law by bringing the “hidden Lamb.” Bringing the “hidden Lamb” also fulfills Yahweh’s promise to Abraham made at the sacrifice of Isaac to provide the future sacrifice himself (Genesis 22:8).

For Abraham he provided a substitute offering of a ram whose horns were caught in a thicket of thorns. The Mosaic law allowed the mother a choice of doves or pigeons, though doves were likely preferred because they were not domesticated and naturally nested on the Temple Mount.They are also somewhat unusual birds in that they will nest in thorns. The dove is of course a common representation of the Holy Spirit. Luke hints but does not specify what the exact sacrifice was, only that his parents “did for Him according to the the custom of the law” (Luke 2:27). This vagueness is Luke’s invitation for us to investigate and ponder more deeply. They may have brought doves or pigeons to avoid scandal, but the real offering was the Lamb.

1

Terms such as “team member” or “crew member” are commonly used by fast food chains to describe their counter workers.