Reading Scripture Theologically SCRPT 310

Lesson Eight

Scripture, Liturgy, and Making

Present Again

Introduction

In the last lesson, we discussed the material and formal unity of Scripture and liturgy. Scott
Hahn argues in the chapters we read for this week that the bond that unites these two things is
the covenant. “Covenant,” he says, “serves as an interpretive key to understanding scripture
and liturgy and their interrelations” (Letter and Spirit, 54). God makes a series of covenants
with his people, beginning with creation and culminating in Jesus Christ. These are recorded in
Scripture and, as we will see, commemorated and renewed in the liturgy, in particular, in the
sacraments. What we read about in the Bible is “actualized” or “made present again” in the
liturgy. Hahn puts it succinctly when he says, “both liturgy and Scripture serve as means to a
common end, which is the establishment, renewal, and maintenance of a covenant
relationship” (Letter and Spirit, 54). These powerful concepts of covenant, renewal, and making
present again in Scripture and the liturgy have been developed extensively by Hahn and we
need to understand them in order to penetrate more deeply the mystery of the purpose of
Scripture and how we should read it liturgically.

What is a Covenant?

Hahn provides this definition of covenant: “the legal means by which the duties and privileges
of kinship may be extended to another individual or group, including aliens” (Letter and Spirit,

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55). This may not sound terribly inspiring at the moment, but it takes on an element of majesty
and wonder when we consider seriously what it means for God to make a covenant with human
beings. God makes us a part of his divine family. God is divine and we become his sons and
daughters, not just as a legal fiction, but truly. St. John puts it this way:

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God;
and so we are . . . Beloved, we are God’s children now; it does not yet appear
what we shall be, but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we
shall see him as he is. (1 John 3:1-2)

We are not only called children of God, but we are children of God! We cannot understand
what we will be—which means that we will be somehow different than we are now—but we
know that when we see God face to face “we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” In
other words, we shall share in God’s glory in an ineffable way. Even now, St. Paul says:

We all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being changed
into his likeness from one degree of glory to another. (2 Corinthians 3:18)

As Dei Verbum says, we are made to “share in the divine nature” (DV 2). This begins by
becoming a son of God, by becoming a part of God’s family through a covenant relationship.

Let us, though, try to understand more clearly what exactly a covenant is. A helpful way to
think about covenants is to contrast them with contracts.

In a contract, one makes a private promise to do something, while in a contract, one swears a
public oath. For example, I signed a contract with Catholic Distance University to write and
record these lectures. They promised to give me a certain sum of money in exchange for my
composing the course. Both of us signed on the dotted line. The signing is important because
what is “on the line” in a contract is our respective “names.” I pledge my name as a bond that I
will fulfill my end of the bargain, while CDU pledges the same for their end. The state is the
witness to this contract. If one of us violates the contract, then there may be trouble with our
names or reputations, but also with the law.

In a covenant, the promise is elevated and made public. One promises not just to obey the
terms of the contract so as to preserve one’s name and obey the law, but one swears an oath
before God. One invokes a higher authority as witness to one’s promise. Most of us have
watched enough television to be familiar with the courtroom oath: “I swear to tell the whole
truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” This is not a formality, but an invocation of

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God as witness to what the speaker is about to say. It is not just the state or the judge that is
the witness, but God. If one does not tell the truth under oath, then one gets in trouble not
only with his reputation or with the law, but with God. But more than the threat of being in
trouble with God, the oath invokes God to help the witness speak the truth. Speaking the
“whole truth and nothing but the truth” is not something that is easily within the grasp of fallen
human beings; it is only with God’s aid that we can accomplish this.

Importantly, the word “oath” translates the Latin word sacramentum. In the last lecture, we
defined sacramentum as the visible dimension of the invisible mystery of the sacraments, but
now we can add this important dimension to our understanding: the sacraments of the Catholic
Church are oaths, covenant oaths. In baptism, we are incorporated into the Body of Christ, we
“become a member” of the Church. Because we are a member of Christ’s Body, we share in
what Christ is. Christ is the Son of God, so we, too, are now sons in the Son.

There is another instructive difference between covenants and contracts which we should
explore. In a contract, the parties exchange property or services, while in a covenant, the
parties exchange themselves. When the Catholic Distance University and I signed the contract,
they pledged to give me money in exchange for writing this course. They give me money; I give
them service. When the service is complete and the money is in the bank, the terms of the
contract have been fulfilled and the contract is obsolete.

In a covenant, though, there is an exchange of persons. When I celebrated the sacrament of

marriage with my wife, I did not pledge to give my wife some of my stuff or even all of my stuff,
but I pledged my very self. And she did the same. We exchanged our very lives. We said to
one another, “I am yours and you are mine . . . forever!” In the Catholic understanding, the
covenant of marriage is permanently binding. This is why the Church does not allow for
divorce. The oath taken before God pledges something that cannot be taken back, ourselves.
An oath is an unconditional promise of fidelity. As Jesus said, “So they are no longer two but
one. What therefore God has joined together, let not man put asunder” (Mt 19:6). And, similar
to the courtroom oath, for married couples to stay joined together they need to say, “so help
me God!”

Lastly, almost all covenants take the same basic form: the swearing of an oath and the
performance of a deed. The oath declares the binding terms before God; the deed “seals the
deal.” In the courtroom, you swear an oath and raise your right hand. In marriage, you
exchange vows and “consummate,” that is, bring the marriage to completion, through sexual
intercourse. In the Catholic understanding of the sacrament of marriage, the free exchange of
vows makes the marriage valid; the consummation makes it indissoluble.

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Covenant in the Bible

Hahn argues that covenant is the key to understanding the Bible. Even the most basic division
in the Bible—the division between the Old and New Testament—is covenantal. The word
which we translate as “testament” could also be translated as “covenant.” We all know this
from going to Mass. We hear the priest quote Jesus Christ and say,

Take this, all of you, and drink from it,

for this is the chalice of my Blood,
the Blood of the new and eternal covenant,
which will be poured out for you and for many
for the forgiveness of sins.
Do this in memory of me.

Christ’s sacrifice is the new covenant, a new and eternal covenant that he has made with all
people. This new and eternal covenant incorporates and transforms all the previous covenants.
It is a definitive turning point in the history of salvation. The most fundamental division in the
Bible comes from a covenantal understanding of salvation history.

In Chapter Four, Hahn gives a wonderful survey of the covenants in Scripture. We cannot dwell
on all the details of covenants here, but a brief review of them will be helpful.

1. Adam and Eve (Genesis 1:26-2:3)

2. Noah and his family (Genesis 9:8-17)
3. Abraham and his descendants (Genesis 12:1-3; 17:1-14; 22:16-18)
4. Moses and the Israelites (Exodus 19:5-6; 3:4-10; 6:7)
5. David and the Kingdom of Israel (2 Samuel 7:8-19)
6. Jesus and the Church (Matthew 26:28; 16:17-19)

This is a good way of organizing the whole content of the Bible which takes seriously the
important themes we are discussing in this course. Below is a chart which comes from another
of Hahn’s books (See A Father Who Keeps His Promises: God’s Covenant Love in Scripture, 35),
which highlights the centrality of covenant in God’s economy:

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God’s Covenantal Plan

(from Scott Hahn, A Father
who Keeps His Promises, 35)

There are many things to note in this helpful diagram, but I will highlight only one. The
covenant is God’s way of bringing people into his family so that, as he says to Abraham,
“through you all nations of the earth will be blessed” (Gen 22:18). As we look at the
progression of covenants, we see that in each successive stage, God expands the dimensions of
his family until it encompasses the whole world in the Catholic, that is, universal Church.

Renewing the Covenant

The covenants that God makes with Adam, Noah, Abraham, and others are not isolated
relationships with just those particular people. The covenants are forward looking and
embrace future generations. This is why the covenant with God needs to be renewed in each
generation. The way the covenant is renewed is (perhaps not surprisingly at this point in the
course) through Scripture and liturgy.

The way the covenant is renewed is by “remembering”: we know this from Jesus, who says to
his disciples at the Last Supper, “Do this in memory of me” (Luke 22:19). But this
“remembering” is not a simple commemoration or even a calling to mind. It is not like
Memorial Day, when we remember and honor those who died for our country, nor is it like
calling to mind the virtues of your grandparents in order to instruct your own children. These
are good things, no doubt, but they are not what the Bible means by “remembering.” The
“memory” or “remembrance” that Jesus is speaking of is, in Greek, anamnesis. Hahn quotes
Robert Wilken’s helpful definition of this term, “to recall by making present” (Letter and Spirit,
92). Hahn continues “It is not merely a recollected thought, but a re-actualizing, a re-
presenting, what Christian tradition calls a real presence” (Letter and Spirit, 92).

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To illustrate the biblical understanding of anamnesis, Hahn describes the Passover seder. In
this Jewish liturgy, faithful Jews commemorate the events of the Exodus. They read passages
from the Bible and fulfill the prescriptions of the rituals described there. By doing this, they are
not just piously remembering their ancestors, but they are extending God’s covenant in time.
“The Jews could re-live mystically, sacramentally, the events of the deliverance and Exodus
from Egypt. They became contemporaries of their forefathers and were saved with them”
(Letter and Spirit, 92). It is remarkable that in the Passover Seder, the participant speaks in the
first person; that is, he speaks in the “I.” He is mystically re-living the events which he reads
about in Scripture. In the liturgy, the words of the Bible are actualized in the life of the believer.

This is all the more true for the Christian sacraments. Jesus says of the Eucharist, “Do this in
anamnesis of me.” In the Eucharist, Christ’s sacrifice is made present again. John Paul II
describes this remarkable truth with characteristic insight and beauty. The quote is long, but
well worth it:

The sacrifice of the Cross is so decisive for the future of man that Christ did not
carry it out and did not return to the Father until he had left us the means to
take part in it as if we had been present. Christ’s offering on the Cross—which is
the real Bread of Life—is the first value that must be communicated and shared.
The Mass and the Cross are but one and the same sacrifice. Nevertheless the
Eucharistic breaking of the bread has an essential function, that of putting at our
disposal the original offering of the Cross. It makes it actual today for our
generation. By making the Body and Blood of Christ really present under the
species of bread and wine, it makes—simultaneously—the Sacrifice of the Cross
actual and accessible to our generation, this Sacrifice, which remains, in its
uniqueness, the turning point of the history of salvation, the essential link
between time and eternity. (“Message to the Eucharistic Congress at Lourdes,”
July 21, 1981)

The Eucharist makes the Cross of Christ present again. Let us be careful here. Christ is not
sacrificed again on the altar. Christ died once. The sacrifice is not repeated, but re-presented.
It is made present again in the liturgy. In this re-presentation, this making the Cross present
again, each generation participates anew in the one sacrifice of Christ. John Paul II is so good
here: the Cross is the turning point of history, as we have noted in previous lectures; the Cross
is also the link between time and eternity, where heaven and earth are united. All of this is
made present and presented to us in the sacrament of the altar. Although we live two
thousand years after Christ’s death, we mystically (that is, sacramentally) participate in his
redeeming sacrifice through the Eucharist. Through the liturgy, we participate in the drama of

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redemption. We participate in “the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be
poured out for you and for many.” And, as St. Paul says, ““The cup of blessing which we bless,
is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread which we break, is it not a participation
in the body of Christ” (1 Cor 10:16)?

How, though, does this work? How can we humans make God present on the altar and
participate directly in the salvation he offers. Hahn offers a compelling answer: because in the
liturgy, the word we hear is a living word, it is the word of God. Remember, the liturgy is
composed largely of passages from Scripture. Hahn says:

Only “The word of the Lord” is appropriate for liturgical proclamation, because
only “The word of the Lord”—the word that created the cosmos—can be a word
that is “living and active” (Heb 4:12). (Letter and Spirit, 80-81)

Importantly, the words of consecration, when the priest transforms bread and wine into the
Body and Blood of Christ, are a direct quotation from the Bible. The priest, acting in persona
Christi, “in the person of Christ,” quotes Jesus directly. He allows the words of Christ to speak
through him; he allows the word of God, the “living and active” word of God, to live and act
through him on the elements of bread and wine. “Only the sacred speech of God can perform
the divine action of transforming bread and wine into the body and blood of God incarnate.
Only the sacred speech of God can bring man into communion with the divine” (Letter and
Spirit, 99). The word of God is active in the liturgy and it has the power to transform our lives.
The same word of God that created the cosmos is the word we hear proclaimed at Mass and,
most importantly, is the word which makes Christ truly present among his people in the
Eucharist.

Parousia

We need to reflect a little bit more on this presence and what it means. In the last lecture, we
spoke about how the Emmaus story had the same structure as the Mass: the liturgy of the word
leading mystagogically into the liturgy of the Eucharist where we recognize Christ’s true
presence. The Scriptures lead us into the mystery of Jesus Christ; the culmination of the liturgy
is a direct encounter with the presence of Christ, who has “come again.” Public proclamation
culminates in parousia.

Those of you who have studied the Bible before this course may already know this Greek term,
parousia. It is often translated as “Second Coming.” It occurs throughout the New Testament,
but occurs many times in Matthew 24, where it seems like Jesus is foretelling what the end

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times will be like. So, when we think of Christ’s coming, of his parousia, we often think of some
far away distant event at the end of time, likely long after we are dead. That is a comforting
thought. But the word also means “presence.” Hahn, and others, have made the persuasive
case that for the early Christians, Christ’s parousia was something that they not only
anticipated at the end of time, but something they anticipated in the liturgy.

One of the many remarkable moments in the liturgy is when we sing the Sanctus, the “Holy,
Holy, Holy.” The prayer goes like this:

Holy, Holy, Holy Lord God of hosts.

Heaven and earth are full of your glory.
Hosanna in the highest.
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.

The first part of this prayer, the “holies” comes from the song of the angels in Isaiah 6:3 and
Revelation 4:8. The second part comes from Psalm 118:26, a psalm used to greet Israelite
pilgrims to the Temple, and Matthew 21:9 when Jesus entered Jerusalem on the way to his
passion and was met with the adoring crowd who shouted this about him. This prayer comes
during the Eucharistic liturgy before the Eucharistic prayers, that is, right before the word of
God transforms the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ. The location of this
prayer means that the anticipated coming of the Lord will occur in the Mass. While we do
await the final and definitive coming of Christ at the end of time, we already encounter his true
presence here on earth in the Eucharist. We live in an “in-between” time, a time of “already,
but not yet.” Christ is already here, present to us, and we await the fulfillment of his final
coming.

But this Sanctus prayer tells us more about what we Christians believe. The second part which
comes from Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem puts us side by side with the adoring crowd
who would soon turn on Jesus and shout, “Crucify him!” As the liturgy moves toward the
Eucharist, toward the Cross made present again, we are liturgically placed next to the
murderers of Jesus. We are the murderers of Jesus. But the first part of this prayer is equally
remarkable, perhaps even more remarkable. This is the song of the angels. We are, then, not
only crucifying Christ as sinners, but in the liturgy we have entered heaven with the “Angels and
Archangels, with Thrones and Dominions, and with all the hosts and Powers of heaven,” as “we
sing the hymn of your glory,” and “without end we acclaim . . . Holy, holy, holy” (Preface I of
Advent). In the Mass, we are swept up in the drama of crucifixion and redemption; we
liturgically re-live the death of Jesus, but also his resurrection and ascension into heaven!

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Hahn discusses how the Jewish liturgy was a conscious imitation of angelic worship in heaven.
In contrast, the Christian liturgy was a conscious participation in angelic worship in heaven. In
the Mass, heaven and earth worship together. Hahn says, “The eucharist is the parousia. In
the divine liturgy, Christ descends to the altar, and the assembly ascends to heaven with Christ.
Heaven and earth, full of God’s glory, unite in worship” (Letter and Spirit, 117).

Conclusion

When I read and think about these things, I often feel like I have ascended to dizzying heights.
The words of Scripture are the word of God which speak directly to me, which call me to
conversion, and which have the power to transform me, not only mentally or spiritually, but
metaphysically, that is, they have the power to change my being. God calls me to a covenant
relationship with him. This covenant is not just an agreement, where I agree to be good and
God agrees to reward me; but is an exchange of persons. God gives himself to me and I give
myself to God. We exchange our very lives. My life is a sinful mess; God’s life is infinite love
and goodness. In the covenant, I become a part of God’s family, just as he, in the Incarnation,
became a part of my family. In fact, he became part of my family, so that I might become part
of his. Or, as Irenaeus might put it, “The Son of God became the Son of man, so that the sons of
men might become the sons of God” (see CCC 460). It is through the liturgy that this
transformation happens.

In the liturgy, the word of God is actualized, it is made present to me, and so has the power to
enter into me and transform me. In the liturgy, the covenant with God is renewed; we
exchange our persons. This is no truer than in the Eucharist, which is God’s “new and eternal
covenant” in Jesus Christ made present again. In the Eucharistic liturgy, the priest says,
“Blessed are those who are called to the supper of the Lamb.” The phrase “supper of the
Lamb” comes from the Book of Revelation which describes how the Lamb is the Bridegroom
who is preparing the wedding feast for his Bride, the Church. In the Eucharist, we are invited to
the wedding feast, our wedding feast! God wants to marry us and become “one flesh” with us.
Our deification begins even now. This is the new and remarkable covenant God has made with
his people.

We have moved from reading the Bible to being transformed into God. From Scripture to
deification. Hahn says:

The reading of Scripture is oriented to this communion, which is, again, a “holy”
communion, a partaking of the divine nature. (Letter and Spirit, 170)

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This is what our study of how to read the Bible has brought us to. This is the economy of
salvation that God has planned for us.

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