Give Me the Works, Father
I recently attended the funeral Mass of a dear Catholic lady. It was a sad occasion. In the last weeks of her life, I had tried to share the good news of Jesus Christ with her. I told her of God's free offer of eternal life and encouraged her to read the Gospel of John, supplying her with a Bible. She said she believed in Christ, but I had my doubts. When she was asked about salvation, her reply was always a confused mixture of Christ and self, faith and works, grace and merit.
The Bible I had given her was never opened. Nevertheless, when a person is dying, one hopes for the best, knowing God to be gracious and merciful.
What little confidence I had that she might personally know
Christ evaporated at her funeral. Father Harry, her parish priest, told the congregation of his last visit to see her. He was struck by how she had boldly faced death. As he entered her room, she looked him straight in the eye, saying, "I know I am dying. I have only a short time to live." She then made her last request, saying, "Give me the works,
Father."
Father Harry knew exactly what she meant: confession, communion, and the anointing of the sick. The trilogy of sacraments known as the Last Rites. "The works," as she put it.
Sadly, in Father Harry's report of their conversation, there was no mention of the Worker, the Lord Jesus who gave His life for us on the cross. There was no reference to His finished work or of God's free offer of salvation. No, the priest gave her what she requested,
"the works," and she died peacefully a few days later, thinking she was right with God. As with so many Catholics, the sacraments of the Church had lulled her into a false confidence, and she quietly slipped into the next life and the judgment that awaits.
Her funeral clearly presented Rome's false gospel, as does every Catholic funeral Mass. Even the Scripture readings used in the rite can be misleading.
I remember my mother's funeral. My family asked if I would be willing to read the Scriptures. It was a kind, well-intentioned gesture, my family being fully aware of my rejection of the Roman
Catholic faith. I wanted to honor my mother and please my family, but not willing to participate in a Catholic Mass, I had to decline.
Some were angered, but I held my ground. I could not take part in a Catholic Mass even by reading the Scriptures. The unbiblical worship of bread and wine and the alleged sacrifice of Christ for the sins of the living and the dead that take place at every Mass precluded my participation.
My mother's funeral confirmed that I had made the right decision. There I learned that the "Scriptures" I had been asked to read weren't Scriptures at all. They were the Catholic Apocrypha, having been selected from the Book of Wisdom. The passage heralded
Rome's false gospel that good people go to heaven:
But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and the torment of death shall not touch them. In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die: and their departure was taken from misery: And their going away from us, for utter destruction: but they are in peace.
And though in the sight of men they suffer torments, their hope is full of immortality. Afflicted in a few things, in many they shall be well rewarded: because God hath tried them, and found them worthy of himself. (Wisdom 3:1-5)
The inspired Scriptures speak to the contrary: No one is personally worthy of God (Romans 3:10-12). It is only in Christ that one can stand blameless before a holy God and be accepted (Ephesians 1:3-8; Jude 24).
I thank God that despite the false gospel proclaimed at my mother's Catholic funeral, she died with a true knowledge of both her own sinfulness and God's perfect solution. In the weeks preceding her death, she had put her faith in Christ who died for her, taking her punishment (Mark 10:45). Shortly before my mother died, she carefully wrote out a sinner's prayer. Her hope was that her family would clearly know where the hope of salvation lay. It read:
Lord Jesus! I need you. Thank you for dying on the cross for my sins. I open the door of my life and receive you as my
Savior and Lord. Thank you for forgiving my sins. Take control of my life. Make me the kind of person you want me to be.
That this is not the Roman Catholic gospel can be clearly seen in the Church's funeral liturgy. There eternal salvation is presented as a merited reward to be received by worthy people. Consider, for example, the selection of prayers provided by the Catholic Church to tailor the funeral rite to the particular circumstances of the deceased. If the person (we will call him John) had been a Catholic priest, the liturgy instructs the minister conducting the funeral to pray:
Lord God, you chose our brother John to serve your people as a priest and to share the joys and burdens of their lives.
Look with mercy on him and give him the reward of his labors, the fullness of life promised to those who preach your holy Gospel. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
This prayer asks God to give the deceased priest what he deserves, "the reward of his labors, the fullness of life."
Should the deceased be even more deserving, a bishop, for example, the liturgy instructs the minister to pray:
Almighty and merciful God, eternal Shepherd of your people, listen to our prayers and grant that your servant, John, our bishop, to whom you entrusted the care of this Church, may enter the joy of his eternal Master, there to receive the rich reward of his labors. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
This is another give-him-what-he-deserves prayer, asking God to allow the bishop to "... enter the joy of his eternal Master, there to receive the rich reward of his labors." The same kind of prayer is found in the funeral rite of a pope:
O God, from whom the just receive an unfailing reward, grant that your servant John, our Pope, whom you made vicar of Peter and shepherd of your Church, may rejoice forever in the vision of your glory, for he was a faithful steward here on earth of the mysteries of your forgiveness and grace. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
This prayer asks God to grant the deceased pope the reward of rejoicing forever "in the vision of your glory." The pope should receive this privilege not because he trusted the blood of Christ to save him, but because the deceased pope "was a faithful steward."
One might wonder what the writers of the liturgy would do if called upon to compose a prayer for the funeral of a genuine, poor lost sinner with no merits of his own. Ironically, the funeral liturgy provides one such prayer. It is for a person who has ended his life by his own hand. Suicide is generally considered to be a mortal sin. The prayer reads:
God, lover of souls, you hold dear what you have made and spare all things, for they are yours. Look gently on your servant
John, and by the blood of the cross forgive his sins and failings.
This prayer drops all pretense of the sinner deserving heaven. It pleads the biblical basis for forgiveness: the blood of Christ (Revelation 1:5). Tragically, however, the message is too late for the deceased. After death comes judgment (Hebrew 9:27). And even "the works" won't get a Catholic into heaven who hasn't trusted Christ in this life, renouncing dependence for salvation upon the Catholic
Church, the sacraments, good works, and personal righteousness.
The Mass: From Mystery to Meaning
The Mass
From Mystery to Meaning
by James G. McCarthy
My stomach was in full flight as we waited for Mass to begin. How embarrassing it would be if I forgot what to do! Nervously I rehearsed my Latin. But I had made up my mind; I was going to be an altar boy.
The priest was calm. The other boy, a veteran, was entertaining himself looking through a mirrored window at the people.
At last the nod came. The heavy door to the altar opened. As we walked out in procession, I pulled the gold chain on the bell above the entryway. Why did I ever get myself into this?
It was not the altar boy picnic at the end of the year. That drew many recruits, but for me the attraction was deeper. I was aware of the respect I would receive from my family. Also, becoming a priest was a possibility. This could be the first step. Then there was the grace I would receive from God. The richly paneled sacristy, where I had donned my black cassock and white surplice, even smelled holy. Soon I would be handling the water and the wine, and assisting in Holy Communion after those awesome words: "Hoc est enim corpus meum - For this is My body."
As the bell clanged, the entire congregation rose to their feet. Pretty heady stuff for an eleven-year-old.
I served Mass for four years. In the second year, the Latin Mass came to the end of its 1500-year history. I had to relearn all the responses in English. It was hard work but a big improvement.
Having attended Mass most of my life, I understand the reverence that every Catholic has for this sacrament. As a youth it was woven into the fabric of my life. Yet as an adult, my attendance often lacked meaning. As I sought a clearer understanding of this mystery, my search led me to the Sacred Scriptures. There God counsels, "Examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good."(1) I decided to examine the Mass using the standard that God has provided: the Bible.
I found that the heart of the issue is the interpretation of Jesus' words, "This is My body... this is My blood."(2) Four major passages record the events of the Last Supper during which Jesus spoke these words. Three are in the gospels.(3) The fourth account is given by Paul. He was not present at the supper, but received a revelation directly from the Lord.(4) In addition there are several short references in the Acts of the Apostles and 1 Corinthians.(5) John 6, where the Lord speaks of himself as the "bread of life," is also important.
What is the correct interpretation of Jesus' statement: "This is My body" ? To answer this we must decide whether he was speaking in plain or figurative language.
Plain speech is just what it sounds like: plain. It's nonfigurative. For instance, we might say, "It is raining one inch per hour." This is stating the facts in plain language. However, we could have said, "It's raining cats and dogs!" This is figurative language.
Jesus used both types of language on the night of the Last Supper. Following the meal, he said, "These things I have spoken to you in figurative language; an hour is coming when I will speak no more to you in figurative language, but will tell you plainly of the Father."(6) Whether we take Christ's words to be spoken in plain or figurative language will determine our view of the Eucharist.
The Plain View
This is the interpretation held by the Catholic Church. It teaches that when Jesus spoke the words: "Take, eat; this is My body... this is My blood," he turned the bread into his body and the wine into his blood. The official name for this is transubstantiation. It means that the substance is changed. Although the outward appearance remains that of bread and wine, the real material or essential nature has been changed. This is done so that the priest can then sacrifice Christ on the altar. It is an "unbloody sacrifice," but one in which Christ is actually "immolated" or offered as the victim. The bread wafer is the "host." This term comes from the Latin word for victim. The offering of the host makes satisfaction for the sins of the living and the dead. Those receiving Holy Communion eat the body of Christ. Participation is essential for spiritual life, central to Catholic experience, and important for salvation. This is the Sacrifice of the Mass or the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist.
At the Last Supper, Jesus said, "This is My body... this is My blood." The Catholic Church interprets Jesus' words to mean, "This has become My body... this has become My blood."
This view interprets the verb "is" in its most usual way: showing that two things are equal to each other. For example, a young man showing his first car to his family might proudly announce, "This is my car."
The Figurative View
This interpretation treats Jesus' words as a figure of speech. The bread and wine are symbols. The bread reminds us of his body which was broken for us. The wine reminds us of his blood which was shed for our sins. The Lord Jesus wants his followers to take bread and wine for the purpose of remembering him; that is, to thank and praise him for the sacrifice of his life.
The figurative view understands Jesus' words as "This represents My body... this represents My blood." It interprets the verb "is" in another of its regular uses: showing that one object represents another.
An example of this might be the previously mentioned young man and his car. Later that day at dinner, he has the sad task of explaining to his father how he wrecked his new car. Arranging the plates and utensils to represent the scene of the accident, he picks up a spoon and, crestfallen, says, "This is my car."
Context is the key. The young man spoke the same words twice: "This is my car." Both times those listening immediately knew what he meant. The first time he used them in their plain sense. The second time in their figurative sense.
His words are similar to Christ's at the Last Supper. In which sense did Christ speak when he said, "This is My body?" Plain or figurative?
By reading Christ's words in context, we can determine their correct meaning. My study of the Last Supper has led me to believe that Jesus was speaking figuratively. Four points provide a summary of the reasons for my conclusion.
1. Jesus' Teaching Style
The Jews often spoke in figurative language. The Lord Jesus, being a Jew, was no exception. John records in his gospel seven figurative statements that Jesus made about himself. Each uses the same verb translated "is" in the words "This is My body." Jesus said,
"I am the bread of life,"(7)
"I am the light of the world,"(8)
"I am the door,"(9)
"I am the good shepherd,"(10)
"I am the resurrection and the life"(11)
"I am the way, and the truth, and the life,"(12)
"I am the true vine."(13)
All are figurative. The last two were even spoken the night of the Last Supper in the upper room.
At other times, the Lord Jesus referred to his body as a temple,(14) new life as living water,(15) his disciples as salt,(16) and the Pharisees' teaching as leaven.(17) In Matthew we read: "All these things Jesus spoke to the multitudes in parables, and He did not speak to them without a parable."(18) A parable is the comparing of one thing with something else. It is figurative language. This is not to say that everything Jesus said was figurative, only that he often employed figurative language to teach truth.
It is not surprising to find figurative language at the Last Supper. A study of that night's teaching, as recorded in John 13-17, will show that throughout the evening he used many figures of speech. He referred to the cup figuratively, "This cup is the new covenant in My blood."(19) The cup is not the actual covenant but symbolic of it.
The passage continues, "For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes."(20) Surely we are not to drink the cup! This is a figurative reference to the wine inside the cup. Note also that this verse refers to the substance eaten as "bread," not a body. In the Gospel of Mark, after Jesus said, "This is My blood," he referred to the substance as the "fruit of the vine,"(21) or wine, not blood. This is the context of the passage we are examining. Much of it is clearly figurative language.
Jesus' Jewish audience often misunderstood his teaching. They lacked discernment. They seemed unable to tell when he was speaking figuratively of spiritual truths. When he said, "Destroy this temple," they thought he meant the building.(22) When he referred to the "leaven of the Pharisees,"(23) they thought he meant bread. When he told the woman at the well of the living water, she wanted to see his bucket.(24) And when he spoke of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, they argued, grumbled, and left in disgust.(25)
The Apostle John records this last incident in the sixth chapter of his gospel. Because the Catholic Church uses this passage to interpret Jesus' words at the Last Supper, we shall take a closer look at it.
2. John 6
This chapter begins with Jesus miraculously feeding a great multitude. The following day, he proclaims that he can give "food which endures to eternal life."(26) This resumes a dispute with the Jewish authorities about who Jesus is. They were already plotting to kill him, because he was "making Himself equal with God."(27) He had even claimed that he could give life to the dead.(28)
In John 6, the Jews continue to resist Jesus' claim of being divine. They challenge him to prove this by bringing down manna from heaven as Moses had.(29) Jesus takes their reference to the manna, the food which was essential for life in the wilderness, and applies it figuratively to himself. He answers, "I am the bread of life."(30)
In the debate which follows, he uses bread to illustrate the truth that they have refused to accept: belief in Jesus is essential for spiritual life. First he states the matter in plain language, "He who believes has eternal life."(31) Then he states it in figurative language, "If anyone eats of this bread, he shall live forever."(32) In his analogy, Jesus uses eating to represent believing.
This can be seen again in a following verse. Jesus went on to say, "He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day."(33) Moments earlier he had said, "For this is the will of My Father, that everyone who beholds the Son and believes in Him, may have eternal life; and I Myself will raise him up on the last day."(34)
Notice that the results are identical in both verses: eternal life and resurrection. But although in the one we must eat and drink, in the other we must behold and believe. Since the results are identical, we should understand that the actions to obtain them are also identical: eating represents believing. His figurative statements are easily understood when read in the context of the other verses in the passage.
But we should not read into this passage a reference to the Eucharist. The reason is once again context. The circumstances in John 6 and the Last Supper are different. Yes, Jesus refers to bread in both, but there the similarity ends.
In John 6, he is speaking to those who reject him as the source of eternal life. He uses bread as an analogy to illustrate mankind's need to believe in him. Jesus never even mentions wine.
At the Last Supper, he is among his eleven true disciples. There he is instituting a commemorative meal using bread and wine.
When we understand how different the two events are from each other, it becomes clear that we cannot use John 6 as a foundation upon which to rest our interpretation of the Last Supper. But this is exactly what the Catholic Church does. Let us examine five verses that it commonly uses.
In John 6:51, Jesus predicts, "The bread also which I shall give for the life of the world is My flesh." The Catholic Church interprets this as a promise of the Eucharist. Yet the context has nothing to do with the Last Supper or physical bread.
Earlier, Jesus had identified himself as the bread of life. Now he says he will give the bread, that is himself, his very flesh, for the life of the world. This is an accurate description of what he did on the cross. He is predicting his death. Many times near the end of his life he made similar predictions.(35)
This interpretation fits the context. By the sacrifice of his life, Jesus became the Savior of the world, the source of eternal life.
In John 6:52, the Jews begin to argue with one another, "How can this man give us His flesh to eat?" Because of their antagonism for Jesus, they not only rejected his teaching but lacked the discernment to understand when he was using an illustration.
In John 6:53, Jesus states, "Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in yourselves." Rather than teach the necessity of receiving Holy Communion, it speaks of the necessity of faith in Christ. If you do not trust in his payment for sin on the cross, you will not have eternal life in yourself.
In John 6:54 he says, "He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day."(36) We have seen that "to eat" is "to believe," and that the giving of his flesh refers to his death on the cross. And so, "to eat his flesh" or "to drink his blood" would be to trust in the sacrifice of his life. It is to rely upon his death on the cross as the payment for our sins.
Finally, in John 6:55, he states, "For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink." To understand this as teaching that Christ is bodily present in the host is to interpret it out of context. Here again, Jesus is emphasizing that he is the source of real spiritual life and nourishment.
Quotes from John 6 should not be used to interpret Jesus' words at the Last Supper. The contexts are too different. However, those who insist on doing so should realize that in John 6 Christ uses bread to illustrate his point. If anything, this sets a precedent for a figurative understanding of Christ's use of bread at the Last Supper.
3. Sound Reason
God is rational. He invited Israel, "Come now, and let us reason together."(37) He expects us to use sound judgment. I take Jesus' words at the Last Supper as figurative on three grounds.
First, consider the location of his body. When he spoke the words, "This is My body," he was reclining with his disciples at the table. Surely they would not have reasoned that both the bread and his actual flesh and bones were his body. The plain view has them both as his body at the same time. Following this view, the Catholic Church teaches that Jesus' body is present on every altar in every consecrated host around the world. Is this what the Bible teaches?
The Scriptures tell us that Jesus is now enthroned in heaven. His bodily return is yet a future event.(38) The Bible never ascribes more than one location to his physical body at any given time.
Someone might object, "Is not Christ God? And is not God everywhere?" Yes. But this refers to his spiritual, not physical, presence.
Second, the appearance of the bread and wine before and after consecration look suspiciously alike. Moreover, they smell, feel, and taste like bread and wine.
The Catholic Church realizes that the physical evidence contradicts the doctrine of the real presence. To explain this, it teaches that the "accidents" (qualities) of the bread and wine remain, but that the "substance" (nature) changes. But is it not the inward nature of an object that produces the outward appearance? Also, there is no other "miracle" recorded in the Bible where all outward evidences declare that nothing has happened, while the faithful are expected to blindly believe that, in fact, something has happened. God has never dealt with mankind in that manner.
Third, let us look at the activity that results from a non-figurative interpretation. When the Son of God became a man, he took upon himself human flesh. Holy Communion is eating Christ's physical body. Why would God want us eating human flesh? Why would he want us drinking human blood? I know that we are speaking of the body and blood of Christ, but is this reasonable? Is it Scriptural? The drinking of blood is repeatedly forbidden in the Scriptures, including the New Testament.(39) The apostles were strict Jews who would not think of eating anything but kosher food.(40) And for a Jew, you cannot find a food more unclean than blood.
Some sincerely argue that eating Christ's physical body must certainly bring grace. Yet Jesus taught, "Hear, and understand. Not what enters into the mouth defiles the man, but what proceeds out of the mouth, this defiles the man.... Do you not understand that everything that goes into the mouth passes into the stomach, and is eliminated?"(41) If eating can not defile us, then how can it sanctify us? Is it Christ in my stomach that I need? Did not Jesus say, "The flesh profits nothing?"(42)
Some do not think that the Mass needs to be reasonable. "It is a mystery. Just accept it by faith," they declare. But the Scriptures never call it a mystery; why should we? Making it a matter of faith leaves the problems unanswered. Faith must rest upon divine revelation. The Mass, as described by the Catholic Church, is not in the Bible.
The problems listed above are real. The Mass is not only unreasonable, it is unscriptural.
A figurative interpretation of Jesus' words makes good sense. His body need not be everywhere. The inward nature of the bread and wine is consistent with its outward appearance. Rather than physically consuming Christ, we experience spiritual communion with him.
4. The Stated Purpose
Why did Jesus take bread and wine and ask his disciples to do likewise? We find the answer in Christ's own words, "Do this in remembrance of Me." The Scriptures continue, "For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes."(43) This is the purpose as Jesus stated it.
The figurative view is in harmony with this purpose. As each believer eats the bread, he is saying by his actions, "Christ's body was broken for me. He took my punishment." Drinking the wine symbolically states, "Christ's blood was poured out for me. He gave his life in exchange for mine."(44)
Jesus Christ went to the cross to save the world. God now offers full forgiveness to anyone who will turn from his sins and trust Christ alone for salvation.(45)
Partaking of the bread and wine is an outward declaration that I as an individual have accepted this offer. It is a public proclamation of my reliance on his death. When believers do this together, it is also a statement of their unity in Christ.(46)
The Lord Jesus need not be physically present for the church to remember him. The bread and the wine serve as fitting reminders of his body and blood given for us. We do this only "until He comes." Then we will not need the symbols, for we shall have him!
The figurative view places the emphasis of worship where it belongs: spiritual communion with God. God is spirit. He wants us to worship him "in spirit and truth."(47) This means he wants us to enter his presence in spirit and without hypocrisy in our lives. Simply showing up and eating the bread means very little to God. He is more interested in the internal than the external, the spiritual than the physical. The Scriptures emphasize self-examination to ensure spiritual reality rather than outward form or mere attendance.(48)
Finally, the taking of bread and wine simply to remember Christ is consistent with the simplicity for which he stood. He spoke against the use of "meaningless repetition" in prayer.(49) He harshly criticized the Pharisees for their pomp.(50) The Apostle Paul wrote, "I am afraid, lest as the serpent deceived Eve by his craftiness, your minds should be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Christ."(51)
Today we find at the Mass elaborate vestments, ready-made prayers, and a man allegedly sacrificing Christ on an altar with a solid gold chalice. It certainly did not start out this way.
History tells of the late development of the present-day Doctrine of the Mass. It is not mentioned in the Apostles' Creed (written in the second century A.D.) or the Nicene Creed (325 A.D.). Individual writers from this period can be cited to support a variety of views.
There was furious controversy from the ninth through the twelfth century. The belief that the nature of the host changed at the consecration did not become an official doctrine of the Catholic Church until the Lateran Council of 1215. This was the first time that the Catholic Church sanctioned the "theory of transubstantiation." The Vatican was still developing the doctrine in the sixteenth century. At that time, the Council of Trent sought to meet the challenges of the Reformation. Trent further defined the theory and placed a solemn curse upon anyone who denied it.(52)
Since then, the simple request of the Lord to be remembered with bread and wine has been exalted to the "source and apex of the whole work of preaching the gospel."(53) These are the words of The Second Vatican Council (1963-1965). Yet when the Apostle Paul told the church what was of "first importance,"(54) "the gospel which I preached to you,"(55) he never even mentioned bread or wine.
What is the purpose of the Mass? It is the perpetuation of the sacrifice of Christ in an unbloody manner to make satisfaction for sins. Let us consider this statement a piece at a time.
First, it is a sacrifice. A sacrifice is an offering made to appease God. In the Scriptures we find no mention of the bread and wine as a sacrifice. Note also that the Lord took bread and wine at a table, not an altar. Tables are for eating; altars are for sacrificing. God commanded the Jews that there was to be only one altar.(56) If Jesus were indeed instituting a sacrifice, then he was establishing a second altar in Jerusalem. No Scripture supports such a significant change.
Second, the Mass is a continuing sacrifice. The Scriptures tell us that a sacrifice which must be constantly repeated reveals itself to be weak.(57) If there is power in the Mass, then why the weekly and even daily repetition?
Third, it is an unbloody sacrifice. The Scriptures state that "without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness."(58) A bloodless sacrifice is a powerless sacrifice.
Finally, the Mass is a sacrifice to make satisfaction for sins. Every Mass declares that Christ's death on the cross was not enough. Compare this with God's word: "We have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all.... Now where there is forgiveness of these things, there is no longer any offering for sin."(59)
Why was it that Christ died on the cross? The Bible tells us, "the wages of sin is death."(60) Christ came to pay that punishment for us with his own life.(61) As he was dying, Christ declared, "It is finished!"(62) When he gave up his spirit, God stamped the penalty for sin, "Paid in Full."
The Apostle Peter states the matter clearly, "For Christ also died for sins once for all, the just for the unjust, in order that He might bring us to God...."(63) Now that is something worth commemorating! What a joy to take bread and wine and remember what Christ did for us rather than attempt to repeat it.
Conclusion
Is the Eucharist a symbol or a sacrifice? Your answer will depend on a far more important question which each must ask himself: am I relying upon Christ's sacrifice on the cross alone as sufficient payment for my sins? Your response to this question will determine not just your weekly practice, but your eternal destiny.(64)
God gave his Son to die for your sins. He offers salvation as a gift.(65) He withdraws that offer from anyone who attempts to receive it, even in part, through personal merit.(66) To seek God's grace through a continued sacrifice is to do just that.
Some Catholics reject the teaching of the real bodily presence and daily sacrifice of Christ by the priest. However, many of these same people continue to attend Mass, while redefining it in their own terms. The Catholic Church does not permit this option.
At every Mass, the priest raises the host and declares, "This is the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world." As each person receives the host, the priest proclaims, "The body of Christ." The person receiving Communion is to reply, "Amen." This Hebrew word is a solemn expression of approval. The person is saying, "It is so, this is the body of Christ." The Catholic Church asks those who cannot honestly state this to refrain from receiving Communion.
Every Catholic must make up his own mind. I struggled with my decision. Long after I began reading the Bible and had trusted in Christ as my Savior, I remained loyal to the Catholic Church. Although I was aware of many of the Scriptures in this booklet, I continued to go to Mass.
One evening, a group of Christians invited me to join them to remember Christ with bread and wine. They believed that the Eucharist was only a symbol. I could not agree. Though I knew the Scriptures did not support it, I continued to hold to that which I had been taught since childhood. I decided to attend, but only to observe.
We sat in a circle. A loaf of bread and a cup of wine stood on a small table in the center. Someone from the group asked if we could sing a hymn. Then another man stood and gave heartfelt praise to God. One elderly gentleman asked us to turn in our Bibles to a passage describing the crucifixion. He read the passage slowly. He then spoke with clarity and affection about the grace of God in sending the Lord Jesus to die for us. My mind and spirit were drawn back to that great event.
The meeting continued in this manner for about thirty minutes. It became clear that the participation was spontaneous. Their love and deep appreciation for Christ were evident.
One man gave thanks to God for the loaf and broke it into two parts. They then passed the bread from one person to the next, each taking a small portion. Another man gave thanks for the cup of wine and passed it around the circle.
At first I felt uncomfortable seeing several men taking the role the priest alone held in my church. Yet this all seemed so natural and glorifying to God. The Apostle Peter had written concerning all believers, "You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God's own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who has called you out of darkness into His marvelous light."(67) Could this have been what he meant?
My study of the Scriptures had caused me to doubt the Catholic interpretation of the Mass. My mind was already prepared to accept the fact that the bread and wine were symbols. Now I found my heart confirming that truth.
As they freely worshipped their Savior and rejoiced in his finished work of salvation, I knew that I had been wrong. Here before my eyes was the fulfillment of the request of the Lord Jesus, "This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me."
Endnotes
3. Matthew 26:17-30; Mark 14:12-25; Luke 22:7-38
5. Acts 2:41-47, 20:7-12; 1 Corinthians 10:14-22
6. John 16:25
7. John 6:48
8. John 8:12
9. John 10:9
10. John 10:11
11. John 11:25
12. John 14:6
13. John 15:1
14. John 2:19
15. John 4:10
16. Matthew 5:13
17. Matthew 16:6
18. Matthew 13:34
21. Mark 14:25
22. John 2:19-22
23. Matthew 16:6-12
24. John 4:10-14
25. John 6:60-66
26. John 6:27
27. John 5:18
28. John 5:25
29. John 6:30-31
30. John 6:35
31. John 6:47
32. John 6:51
33. John 6:54
34. John 6:40
35. John 3:14, 16; 10:15
36. John 6:54
37. Isaiah 1:18
38. Acts 1:11
39. Acts 15:29
40. Acts 10:14
42. John 6:63
44. cf. 1 Corinthians 10:16
45. Romans 10:9-10
47. John 4:24
49. Matthew 6:7
50. Matthew 23:1-36
52. Session XIII, can. 2, D.B., 884
53. Vatican II, Decree on the Ministry and Life of Priests, sec. 5
56. Deuteronomy 12:5-14; Exodus 20:24-26; Joshua 22:16
57. Hebrews 10:1-3
58. Hebrews 9:22; Leviticus 17:10-14
60. Romans 6:23
61. Mark 10:45
62. John 19:30
63. 1 Peter 3:18
64. John 3:36; Romans 4:5; 9:30-33; Hebrews 10:38-39
65. Ephesians 2:8-9
66. Galatians 3:10; 2:21; 5:2-5
67. 1 Peter 2:9
The Mass: From Mystery to Meaning
James G. McCarthy (©) Copyright 1989
Scripture quotations are from the New American Standard Bible (©) Copyright 1977, The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission.
This book is available from your local Christian bookstore or from one of our recommended distributors.
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Good News for Catholics
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Is Bigger Really Better?
Can a local church become too big to be truly effective? Consider your car engine. It can efficiently produce great power, but only over the range of operation for which it was designed. It is called the power band. Keep the r.p.m.’s (revolutions per minute) within this range and it performs beautifully. Operate it outside that band, and efficiency and power rapidly diminish. I believe God’s principles for the church were also designed to work under specific conditions. One of these is size. Consider three areas essential for church vitality which decrease in effectiveness as the size of the church increases.
Shepherding of the Flock
A shepherd has his limits. He can care for only so many sheep. Exceed that threshold and the flock suffers. To provide adequate care, the shepherd must first know his sheep, not as a flock, but as individuals. He must know their needs and pray for them regularly. He must be ready to lay down his life for the sheep under his care. Shepherds must lead by example (1 Pet. 5:3). This requires them to be with the sheep and available for genuine friendships. Sheep need to know the shepherd. “The sheep follow him for they know his voice” (John 10:4). The anonymous lives we live in our neighborhoods are fast becoming a reality in many of our overgrown churches. Counsel lacks the needed perspective of a personal relationship and history. Sheep stray, and the only one who notices is the wolf. Church discipline is rendered obsolete because it would affect too many people and nobody can keep track of who is coming anyway.
In an attempt to meet these problems and keep growing, more men are added as elders. But once again there is a practical upper limit. The larger the group of elders, the more difficult it is to be of the same mind (1 Cor. 1:10). Where three elders worked together in concert, nine men are in danger of becoming a cacophony. Even with more overseers, no elder can keep up with all the needs. File systems are devised, but burdens on paper can never replace burdens on hearts.
The next step is often to subdivide the flock and assign each part to one elder. Although well intentioned, the dynamics of a plural eldership are destroyed in the process. Sheep lose the spiritual oversight of several pastors. In effect, they find themselves under one man. Often the different ministries of the church are also divided. One elder takes responsibility for evangelism, another for singles, etc. Soon the elders lose the big picture. They can even become territorial as they compete for resources. Specialized ministries tend to multiply, and elders soon find themselves administering programs rather than shepherding people. These taxing responsibilities put an effective barrier between the shepherds and the sheep. One day, the Lord will ask elders, “Whatever happened to Bill Brown?” (Heb. 13:17). Woe to the shepherd who must answer, “Bill who?”
The Exercise of Spiritual Gift
The expertise required for ministry in a large church limits the use of spiritual gifts. Consider once again the eldership. As the church grows, the demands on the eldership increase exponentially. A working man who would have made a fine elder in a small church finds it impossible to keep up with a large church. The church becomes increasingly dependent on full-time staff. Slowly we creep toward professionalism as specially trained men are hired.
The same trend can be seen in the public ministry of the Word. Something is wrong when the pulpit is reserved for those of conference level ability or celebrity status. Even the dynamics of an open meeting such as the Breaking of Bread are adversely affected by big numbers. First, few men are willing to address a large crowd. Second, even of those willing to speak up, only a small percentage will have the opportunity. Most resign themselves to being dumb priests. Finally, because a truly open meeting in the large church would have unpredictable results, the leadership finds it necessary to restrict and orchestrate the meeting. It can be argued that in the large church there is more opportunity, not less. There is some truth in that statement. But the ability of the oversight to effectively direct large numbers of people in ministry must also be considered. My experience has been that in the smaller churches men and women grow more quickly in the exercise of their gifts. In the larger church there tends to be what one successful church planter described as “too many folded arms.”
Corporate Identity
One of the greatest strengths of the smaller assembly is that it is conducive to a sense of belonging—a family atmosphere. In the large church the members, out of practical necessity, soon resign themselves to nothing more than a superficial relationship with the majority. The result is a marked decrease in corporate loyalty, commitment, and vision. The blessings of God which encourage and inspire the church are often lost. I was in one church where four adults professed faith in Christ in one week. Yet most of the members had never prayed for any of them or even knew that it had happened. Contrast that with the small assembly where even the visit of a neighbor can create corporate excitement.
Sorrows are also lost in the crowd. 1 Corinthians 12:26 could often be revised, “If one member suffers, most of the members don’t even know.” Aware of these problems, the large flock is yet again subdivided into cell groups in an attempt to have the best of both worlds. But treating the larger flock in smaller units is only an admission of an inherent strength of the small church.
Have we lost our way? Why do we want to be so big anyway? Is it because Christians have certain expectations which only a big church can deliver? Special ministries for every member of the family are becoming standard. Popular speakers, expensive facilities, and large numbers are often equated with success and blessing.
We may envy the assets of a large church, but do we applaud the results in people’s lives Personally, I am not impressed. In fact, I can’t recall anyone championing maturity as one of the benefits of being large. The Scriptures tell us that real spiritual maturity comes as the church grows “up into Him who is the Head, that is Christ. From Him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work” (Eph. 4:15-16 NIV). Here is where the large church fails to deliver what the saints need most. Ralph Shallis, in his book to new believers, writes,
In a small church, you will find a purpose in being alive; you will be a valuable and important member of the family; you will have a real contribution to make. If, on the other hand, you are in a very large church, you will probably be submerged in an anonymous mass—which is very bad for your spiritual health. You become lazy and useless, or just frustrated. (1)
We need to stop competing with the big church down the road. Certainly they have their strengths, but let’s not sacrifice ours while attempting to mimic them. Teach the saints the strengths of the small church, and teach them what is of real value. Never compromise principles for parishioners. Remember that numbers are a poor index of success. Vance Havner writes of an approach to real growth all but forgotten today:
Actually, we need a thinning instead of a thickening. I learned long ago that growing corn and cotton must be thinned. We reduce the quantity to improve the quality. Gideon had to thin his troops, and a similar procedure might help God’s army today. Jesus thinned His crowd. (2)
How big is too big? There is not one answer to this question. Factors which affect the number include the ability of the elders and the culture in which the church resides. Certainly the church is too big when the elders find the flock more than they can handle, the gifts of many of the saints lie dormant, and the saints think of the church as something they go to.
What is the alternative? The answer is not to de-emphasize evangelism. We have been commanded to make disciples of all nations. Our churches should be growing. There is nothing spiritual about being small and stagnant like a puddle evaporating in the sun. Expansion during the first century was through the planting of new churches. To relieve overcrowding, experienced men should lead a portion of the flock out to establish a new assembly. This is usually referred to as a hive-off. In late spring, the crowding of the hive stimulates their swarming instinct. The queen bee and a portion of the bees migrate to a new location and establish a second colony. Soon both hives are back to full capacity, and the process repeats itself. Size is only one parameter of church vitality, but if your work has become ineffective, maybe you are too big.
Endnotes (1) Ralph Shallis, From Now On, (Bromley, England, 1973), p.143.
(2) Vance Havner, Hearts Aflame, (Westwood, N. J., 1952), p.114.
A Visit to Bill MacDonald’s Apartment (William MacDonald, 1917–2007)
A commended worker for sixty years, a teacher, preacher, mentor, and author of eighty-four books, including the Believer's Bible Commentary, William MacDonald was a man who said and wrote much. Yet, for the those who knew him well, it was his life that left the greatest impression.
Speaking of the Lord Jesus, the Bible says, "the one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked" (1 John 2:6). Bill wrote in his commentary, "Jesus' life, as set forth in the Gospels, is our pattern and guide. It is not a life which we can live in our own strength or energy, but is only possible in the power of the Holy Spirit. Our responsibility is to turn our lives over to Him unreservedly, and allow Him to live His life in and through us."
In 1962, Bill wrote True Discipleship, a summary of what it means to walk in the same manner as Christ walked. In the foreword, he said:
This booklet is an attempt to set forth some principles of New Testament discipleship. Some of us have seen these principles in the Word for years, but somehow concluded that they were too extreme and impractical for the complicated age in which we live. And so we surrendered to the chill of our spiritual environment.
Then we met a group of young believers who set out to demonstrate that the Savior's terms of discipleship are not only highly practical but that they are the only terms which will ever result in the evangelization of the world. We acknowledge our indebtedness to these young people for providing living examples of many of the truths set forth here.
To the extent that these truths are still beyond our own personal experience, we set them forth as the aspirations of our heart.
Bill listed seven principles of Christian discipleship.
1. A supreme love for Jesus Christ.
2. A denial of self.
3. A deliberate choosing of the cross.
4. A life spent in following Christ.
5. A fervent love for all who belong to Christ.
6. An unswerving continuance in His Word.
7. A forsaking of all to follow Him.
Challenged by these seemly impossible standards, Bill wrote:
The writer realizes that in the act of setting them forth, he has condemned himself as an unprofitable servant. But shall the truth of God be forever suppressed because of the failure of God's people? Is it not true that the message is always greater than the messenger?
The message is indeed greater, but in this case, the messenger also was noteworthy.
Perhaps Bill's life can best be recalled by a final visit to the apartment where he lived for the past thirty-four years. The building is unremarkable, unless one remembers that the occupant of apartment number seven had a Master degree in business administration from Harvard Business School and was a former investment analyst for the First Bank of Boston. One would have expected such a man to live in a large home in a gated community, rather than in a one bedroom apartment on a busy street. The stainless steel doorbell/intercom panel guarding the front lobby door is new. Had we visited two or three years earlier, however, we would have noticed on the old panel that the button for Bill's apartment had been replaced. His many visitors had worn it out prematurely.
Entering the lobby and turning to the staircase on your visit to Bill MacDonald's apartment, you would pass a row of mailboxes. Though conveniently placed, Bill never received his mail there. He preferred to have it delivered to Fairhaven Bible Chapel a few blocks away. He would stop by Fairhaven each day, greet the secretaries, and pick up his mail. He had helped to start the Discipleship Intern Training Program there and taught in it for twenty-one years, training scores of men to serve Christ.
As you topped the first flight of stairs, Bill would be waiting at his apartment door with a smile and a hearty handshake, or if he knew you well, a hug. Unlike many who become grumpy and bitter as they grow old, Bill grew more warm-hearted and sympathetic as he aged. More like Christ.
Entering his one-bedroom apartment, you would pass a small windowless kitchen on the left. While others over the past thirty-five years had invested thousands of dollars remodeling their kitchens, Bill's had remained the same-a stove, a sink, a refrigerator, and a small counter, just enough room for one person to work. "It's fine," he would say. He enjoyed cooking for himself and his guests, serving full meals with dessert. If there is a reward in heaven for the bachelor who showed the most hospitality, Bill will easily win it.
Beyond the kitchen you would see a small table pushed against the wall, a chair on either end, two chairs down the long side. A woodworking class had made it for him. Above it hung a large calendar and a glass Scottish thistle. Though born in Massachusetts, Bill's heart was in Scotland, his parent's birthplace. He had spent a memorable year there on the Isle of Lewis as a youth.
On the kitchen table, you would see a small stack of cards. If you examined them, you would find a Bible text on one side and its reference on the other. After serving dinner, Bill enjoyed inviting his guests to select a card, read the text, and try to identify the book, chapter, and verse from memory. Of course, he knew them all.
Passing into his living room, you would see that it was divided into two spaces, each about seven feet long and ten feet wide. The one nearest to the kitchen was furnished with three chairs, two bookcases, and a small electronic keyboard. Bill would serve you tea and you could talk about the things of the Lord. When alone at night, he liked to spend a few minutes playing hymns unto God. He played by ear and knew the lyrics to hundreds of songs. In later years, a tremor in his hand put an end to it.
On the two bookcases, you could check out his personal library. He limited it to those few shelves. This meant that as new books came in others went out, usually to be passed on to an eager young Christian. He liked to joke about earlier days when he owned a smartly bound edition of the complete works of John Nelson Darby. They made him feel spiritual and intelligent, he liked to tell others, until a young disciple asked him if had read them. He admitted that he had not. Darby was good, but difficult to follow. He sold them soon after, putting the money into the work of the Lord.
You would notice that the second half of the room was configured in a square. The room's only window was on the back wall. It looked out to a parking lot. Nothing much of interest there. On the other side of the building was the town's fire department. Bill said the sirens didn't bother him. He had learned the art of not letting small things get under his skin. He had something more important to do.
Three desks completed the square, two long ones lining either wall and a shorter one across the front of the workspace, leaving enough room to pass. Bill spent most of his waking hours there when at home. He used the desk on the right (a door blank supported by two file cabinets) for Bible study. On a shelf for reference books above it, you could count seven or eight translations of the Bible. Bill's favorite translation was the King James Version, but for many years he taught from the New American Standard Bible. One year he exclusively used the New International Version to familiarize himself with it. In his latter years, he settled on the New King James Version. He could explain the strengths and weaknesses of each translation and would warn young disciples to stay out of the controversies over which one was best. Throughout his life, Bill strove to maintain balance. When someone took issue with his interpretation of Scripture, he would listen politely and then quote Harry Ironside, saying, "Well, dear brother, when we get to heaven, one of us is going to be wrong, and perhaps it will be me."
Bill knew little Hebrew or Greek. He had set a goal as a young man to master the English Bible and that kept him busy enough. He knew it as well as any scholar. He could quote Scripture at length, a God-given ability. After completing a study of a passage, he usually had it memorized without drills or review.
On the same desk where he studied, Bill kept his phone and fax machine. You wouldn't be there long before a call would interrupt your visit. They came in from around the world. Usually the caller was an elder, asking advice on a difficult problem in his assembly.
You would find a second long desk of the same design on the left with a computer monitor and printer on it. Bill did his writing there. By the age of eighty, he had completed eighty books. "One for every year of my life," he would say with a smile, "though I didn't start when I was one." He finished his eighty-forth book a few weeks before going to be with Christ and just short of his ninety-first birthday. It was a new commentary on the book of Proverbs.
Bill was an early adapter. He had been given his first computer in 1982 at the age of sixty-five. He never really understood how the thing worked. The difference between a computer file and computer folder, for example, baffled him. He didn't let it stop him. He knew this new technology could advance his work for the Lord, and so decided to use it. With help from others and an array of Post-It notes and instructions on cards, he got the job done.
On the third desk, an aluminum folding table, you would find Bill's typewriter and a stack of correspondence. In a typical week, Bill would answer ten to twenty letters. He found it taxing, especially in his latter years, but he couldn't rest until every letter was answered and every gift acknowledged.
Bill filled the hours in his apartment with study and writing. "Most of my Christian life has been hard work," he writes in an unpublished memoir, "steady plodding, routine duties and lonely hours. There have been times when I have wondered if anything was being accomplished. If I ever thought of turning in my commission, the Lord would drop some little handful of encouragement that would nerve me to go on a little longer." Nothing encouraged him more than receiving in the mail a copy of his commentary freshly translated into a foreign language. A fund has been set up with CMML to continue the work.
Leaving the living room and entering Bill's bedroom. The furniture is cheap and dated-a bed, two small bookcases holding an assortment of his books and tracts to give to people, a dresser, a small television, and a bedside stand with a book on it. He read himself to sleep most of his life. In the last two or three years his eyes wouldn't allow it. "The tent is coming down," he would say.
Bill liked to watch the news. He never went to a movie theater or to a theatrical play, mostly out of deference to his mother, he would explain, who saw no good in them. He occasionally watched a movie with a Christian theme on DVD. His favorite was Chariots of Fire, the story of a Christian athlete, a Scotsman, as one might expect.
In the bedroom closet, you wouldn't find much. Bill was always well groomed, but he spent little on clothes. There you would find his suitcase. He had used the same one for over fifty years. It looked something like an oversized bowling bag. It was all he needed. He traveled light, but he traveled far, circling the globe teaching the Bible.
Of course, if you were to visit apartment number seven now, you wouldn't find Bill there. On Christmas Day, 2007, Bill went home to be with Jesus. He left little of earthly value. The former investment analyst, you see, had no stock portfolio, no property, no investments of any kind on this earth. Everything he received beyond what was necessary for his basic needs, he gave away. We still have the books he wrote. We can thank God for that. We still have precious memories of the example he left us. But Bill is no longer with us, and we already miss him terribly. He reminded us so of Jesus.