“We proclaim your death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again.” We all say these words together in response to the proclamation uttered by the priest celebrating Mass. Do you remember what he says and when? “The mystery of faith.” It concludes the most important part of the Holy Mass, the consecration, when the bread and wine have become the Body and Blood of Christ. “We proclaim your death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again.” We say these words pretty much on autopilot, but have you ever pondered the meaning of this phrase or its placement in the Mass? Let’s look into that very briefly.
The Consecration lies at the heart of the Holy Mass; it’s its focal point. Everything that precedes the Consecration leads to it, and everything that follows has its source in it. It’s the moment when the incarnate, perfect Son of God and Son of Man, our Lord, Saviour and Redeemer, pays the ultimate price for our freedom, as expressed in an alternative proclamation: “Save us, Saviour of the world, for by your Cross and Resurrection you have set us free.” By celebrating and participating in the Holy Mass, we receive the same grace as if we were standing at the foot of the cross two thousand years ago. It is “the mystery of faith”, the greatest and most significant aspect of our Christian faith. Because it goes beyond what can be comprehended, it’s called ‘the mystery’. When we respond to such a proclamation with these words, “we proclaim your death, O Lord, and profess your Resurrection until you come again”, we acknowledge Jesus’ redemptive death, we profess our faith in His resurrection, and we affirm our longing for his triumphant return. The expectation of the latter was at the core of Christianity from day one and the strongest source of hope for the first generation of the faithful. The first “advent” was the default Christian mindset all year round, not just for four weeks. It’s still reflected in the other alternative acclamation used after the Consecration: “When we eat this Bread and drink this Cup, we proclaim your Death, O Lord, until you come again.”
The atmosphere in the Holy Land during Jesus’ ministry was tense, febrile and politically unstable. Widespread social injustice and inequality caused tensions, combined with a sense of helplessness and powerlessness among the population. This fuelled a search for new leaders to challenge the powerful and influential. Occasionally, individuals emerged to contest the existing political and social order; some peacefully, others violently. Some are mentioned by name in the Acts of the Apostles (see 5:34-39). The culmination of these conflicts was the revolt that began in 66 AD and escalated into a full-scale war, ending with the Roman victory and the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 70 AD. When Jesus started his ministry, many wanted to see in him a political figure – there’s plenty of evidence of that in the gospels. Although he dismissed such expectations as misplaced, Jesus offered an alternative solution to people’s challenging circumstances: “People will insult you and hurt you. They will lie and say all kinds of evil things about you because you follow me. But when they do that, know that great blessings belong to you. Be happy about it. Be very glad because you have a great reward waiting for you in heaven.” (Matthew 5:11-12) In a sense, Jesus encouraged his followers to accept their suffering and transform it into strength, and to expect an infinitely greater reward for their perseverance and steadfastness in the afterlife.
After Jesus’ return to the Father, his followers were awaiting His return (in Greek: parousia), this time as the triumphant Lord who would establish the kingdom of God and reward those faithful to Him. The initial expectation was of an immediate, cosmic-scale event, but the years passed, and nothing of the sort occurred. Christians’ attention started to gradually fade, so Church leaders sought to prevent them from giving up. On one hand, they offered arguments or reasons why the parousia had not yet occurred: “with the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day. The Lord is not slow to fulfil his promise as some count slowness, but is patient towards you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” (2 Peter 3:8-9) On the other hand, Christians were encouraged to maintain their proper attitude and way of life, as we heard in today’s gospel: “stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming,” in Latin: adventus, hence our English Advent. The passage also reflects the changing understanding of what that arrival would look like; no longer a cosmic-scale event, but something on a personal level: “Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left.”
In that respect, not much has changed in our understanding since then. People go through their lives facing challenges, adversities, and hardships in different shapes and forms, longing for them to end and for more peaceful lives. We actively take action wherever and whenever we believe circumstances can be changed or improved. But sooner or later, we realise that there are things beyond our powers, things we cannot control, and we have to persevere, or in a religious parlance, carry the cross. Our Christian faith offers us hope that such steadfastness makes sense and will lead to something much greater, and eventually we will be rewarded by the just Judge when He comes again.
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