Anamnesis: “Make Present,” or just “Remember”?

There are basically two ways of translating “anamnesis,” which is the word Christ uses in the institution of the Lord’s Supper when he says “do this in remembrance of me,” or “do this as my memorial.”

They mean basically the same thing, but the emphasis is different.  In any case, tied to the word anamnesis is the issue of remembering.  In a Eucharistic or Old Testament sacrificial context, it is the remembering of what God has done for his people and offering of oneself to him in return.  It is thanksgiving.

But what does it mean to remember?  Is remembrance a mere cognitive exercise, or is there something more to it?  Of course today, when we use the word, we generally mean simply to bring a past event to mind.  But is this a Biblical view of remembrance?

In his milestone work, The Shape of the Liturgy, Dom Gregory Dix modified the Roman Catholic suggestion of re-sacrifice¹ in the Eucharist to something a little less offensive to the Biblical mind.  Or much less so.  He defines remembrance as the act of making present.²

According to Dix, when the church remembers the sacrifice of Christ in the Eucharist, they are recalling it not only to mind, but also to present effect.  Remembrance brings the effects of a past event to bear on the present.  It identifies one directly with those people for whom that past event was a present reality.

Of course, since the popularization of this view, Roman Catholics have been using it to stump their Protestant friends who accuse them of viewing the Eucharist as a re-sacrifice.  “Why, no we don’t!  We believe it is simply a making present of the past sacrifice.”

Well, yeah, that’s true as far as it goes, but that’s only because they changed their tune.  Of course, they still believe it means to make physically present . . . though not locally, and that is where we go down the rabbit trail of medieval categories.

But aside from the dissonance, what about the basic melody of this new tune?  Is it any more pleasant than the last?  Let’s take a look.

First there is the language of how God himself remembers.

Genesis 9:15
I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh. And the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.

Exodus 2:24
And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob.

There are many other similar examples.  And there is one interesting example that seems to have a very strong relation to God’s presence.

Numbers 10:9
And when you go to war in your land against the adversary who oppresses you, then you shall sound an alarm with the trumpets, that you may be remembered before the LORD your God, and you shall be saved from your enemies.

We should realize by now that Biblically speaking, remembrance is more than a cognitive recollection.  God certainly does not need to be cognitively reminded of his people or covenants.  He knows all, and he does not forget.  We should also note that when God remembers, it is always a catalyst to action.  The remembrance and the resulting action are so inseparable as to be one and the same.

So what about human remembrance?  How does God command us to remember?

Deuteronomy 15:15
You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God redeemed you; therefore I command you this today.

Was this command for that generation of the Exodus only?  This is after the forty years wandering in the wilderness.  An entire generation perished because of unbelief.  Most of those to whom Deuteronomy was given never saw slavery in Egypt.  How can they then rightly remember that God delivered them?  This is a question made all the more stark when we consider that the memorial sacrifices and feasts were to be observed by Israel continually.  Was the celebration of Passover by succeeding generations a mere cognitive exercise or was it an act of identification with God’s deliverance?

I read this passage a couple weeks ago, and found it quite interesting.  Pay attention especially to the pronouns.

Deuteronomy 26:3-10
“And you shall go to the priest who is in office at that time and say to him, ‘I declare today to the LORD your God that I have come into the land that the LORD swore to our fathers to give us.’ Then the priest shall take the basket from your hand and set it down before the altar of the LORD your God.

“And you shall make response before the LORD your God, ‘a wandering Aramean was my father. And he went down into Egypt and sojourned there, few in number, and there he became a nation, great, mighty, and populous. And the Egyptians treated us harshly and humiliated us and laid on us hard labor. Then we cried to the LORD, the God of our fathers, and the LORD heard our voice and saw our affliction, our toil, and our oppression. And the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with great deeds of terror, with signs and wonders. And he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey. And behold, now I bring the first of the fruit of the ground, which you, O LORD, have given me.’

Notice how the perspective shifts in the act of remembrance.  The one offering thanksgiving here moves from a sort of separation between himself and his fathers to the point where speaks of himself and his fathers as one identity.  “A wandering Aramean was my father . . . he went down into Egypt” becomes “the Egyptians treated us harshly . . . the LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand . . . and gave us this land.”

See how the identity of Israel as a people converge into one identity.  What God did for the fathers he did for the one who offers thanksgiving.  The suffering of the fathers is to be remembered as the suffering of the one who makes sacrifice, so that the deliverance of God might be known for all generations.

How does this apply to us?  Well, if Abraham is our father, we must do the same.  The deliverance of Israel we must recognize as our own.  The word of the prophets called us to repentance.  And finally, Jesus died and rose again for us.  When we celebrate the Lord’s Supper, we make present that reality in the sense that we identify ourselves with the sacrifice of Christ.  In remembrance, the Holy Spirit really (spiritual realities are real no less than the physical) applies to us the effects of the sacrifice.

Benjamin Warfield, in speaking of the Lord’s Supper, wrote this:

Assuredly, for example, the sacrificial feast is not a repetition of the sacrifice; and equally certainly it is something more than a mere commemoration of the sacrifice: it is specifically a part of the sacrifice, and more particularly this part—the application of it. . . . Precisely what our Lord did therefore . . . he, the true Passover, the Lamb of God, that takes away the sin of the world—was to establish a perpetual sacrificial feast, under universal forms, capable of observation everywhere and at all times . . . All who partake of this bread and wine, the appointed symbols of his body and blood, therefore, are symbolically partaking of the victim offered on the altar of the cross, and are by this act professing themselves offerers of the sacrifice and seeking to become beneficiaries of it. That is the fundamental significance of the Lord’s Supper.  Whenever the Lord’s Supper is spread before us we are invited to take our place at the sacrificial feast, the substance of which is the flesh and blood of the victim which has been sacrificed once for all at Calvary . . . ³

So then, with Dix, we might affirm that remembrance is indeed a making present to us the reality of Christ’s one sacrifice, and with Warfield, who it appears would agree with that, we say that it is the application of the sacrifice to the one who partakes.

Anamnesis, then, is the recollection to us the realities of the past in such a way that they may no longer be thought of to be a mere past reality brought to mind, but a present one as well.

There are more things to look at in this.  For instance, how our celebration of the Supper brings us to God’s remembrance, and so into his presence.  I don’t want anyone to think I overlooked that.  Dix deals with this at length, and to properly address Dix, we have to consider that sense of the word.  But this is enough for one post.  I’ll probably look at this again.

Names and Roman Weddings

“Ubi tu Caius, ego Caia.”
“Wherever thou art Caius, there I am Caia.”

I first came upon this phrase when reading Quo Vadis, and thought it was the sweetest thing ever.  After having given it some thought, I like it even more.  These are the words that were spoken by a Roman bride at her wedding, probably in response to the groom’s question, “What is your name?”

After the bride’s response, the groom would then (ideally) sweep her off her feet and carry her across the threshold into his home.

I think the phrase is pretty much the most succinct and, at the same time, possibly the most romantic one I have ever heard or read of in a wedding.  But there are specific reasons I find it so, which transcend mere sentimentality.  Those Romans were not much for bandying about words.  Not like the Greeks, in any case.  The less said the better, if it got the point across.  And these words are loaded.

We are all familiar with the traditional wedding vows, and the Roman one is much like them.  One might even find that our modern form originates here in part.  In this phrase, the bride vows to go and to be wherever her husband is, whenever he is.  Eternity is implied.  The phrase encapsulates the marriage vow (at least the bride’s side of it) into five words in the Latin.

It is also a symbolic renaming.  The bride declares that she is taking the name of her groom.  In this case, not literally.  There were dudes not named “Caius” who got married in Rome.  The name Caius/Caia (or Gaius/Gaia) means happiness and rejoicing.  An appropriate description of a wedding, intended to portend the fortunes of the new couple.

But no matter the given names of the couple, the symbolism remains.  The bride declares that she will henceforth be identified with her husband, as she has been identified with her father until this point.  In fact, by using the name Caius/Caia, she pledges not only her physical presence but her heart and her emotions as well.  Wherever he rejoices, there she also will find her joy.

To a Christian, what does this mean?  Can we possibly learn anything from the pagan Romans?  Sure, why not?  In the same way that the bride pledges her life to her groom and takes his name upon herself, we also have pledged our lives to Christ and taken His name.

The Church is the Bride of Christ, and every one of the baptized community is a member.  From the point of our entrance into that body to now, and until Christ returns, we should ever be saying:  “Wherever thou art Christ, there I am Christian.”

In fact, we do something like this every week before we come to the Lord’s table, our earthly foretaste of the Lamb’s marriage supper.  When the officiant asks the congregation: “Christian, in whom do you believe?” we respond, “I believe in one God the Father Almighty . . . And in one Lord Jesus Christ . . . And in the Holy Spirit.”

“In whom do you believe?” is a question very much like “What is your name?”  For we become identified with that in which we believe.  Our Credo is an affirmation of our baptism into the name of the Triune God.  And having confessed Christ and having declared our identity in Him as a body, we are then welcomed to the wedding feast at His table.

Regulative Principle and Weekly Communion, with some thoughts on the Calendar

There are many good and Biblical reasons for Christians to gather at the Lord’s Table in Communion to celebrate Eucharist every week.  But for this post I just want to focus on the reasons for doing so based on the Reformed Regulative Principle of worship.  In particular, I want to use a common objection to the Church Calendar and reapply it to the issue of the regular celebration of the Eucharist.

A great deal of emphasis in discussion of Regulative Principle is placed on what is not commanded for worship, and the prohibition of those things.  But I think we often overlook what is commanded when we look at the subject of Lord’s Day worship.

In regards to the Sabbath law of the fourth commandment, the Reformers were particularly concerned that any day might become more important than the Sabbath rest.  This is a legitimate concern in some ways, especially regarding discussions of the Church Calendar.  How many nominal Christians go to worship only on Easter and Christmas?  Or, even if they regularly attend, how many become more fervent at those times of year than at others?

Is Pascha or Christmas inherently any more holy of a day than a Lord’s Day in the middle of “ordinary time”?  I would argue not, and I’ll probably want to address my reasoning for that at a later date.

But in looking into those questions, another thing struck me.  If we want to take care not to elevate any day over the Sabbath, or even one Sabbath day over another, then what does this say for the widespread tradition of celebrating communion only monthly, or in some cases, even quarterly or annually?  Does this not elevate those Sabbaths above all others?  Have you ever seen in a church service bulletin the reminder: Next week is communion Sunday.  Please prepare your heart during the week and make certain to attend.

Even if the intent is not to elevate those days above others, doesn’t this lend itself to the idea that those days are more holy (set apart) than other Sabbaths?

My intent is not to condemn those who do not celebrate communion weekly as “Sabbath breakers.”  We all fall short in many ways, and we all must serve and worship God to the best of our understanding.  I only want to suggest that perhaps . . . just perhaps the Regulative Principle of worship that so many Reformed Christians hold to, if followed consistently, requires that the Lord’s Supper be celebrated every week in order to maintain equality of holiness from each Lord’s Day to the next.

Furthermore, I believe that if communion were viewed as indispensable and central to each worship service, a great part of the tendency some feel to inappropriately elevate Church Calendar days would simply evaporate.  Because every Lord’s Day would be holy to the Lord, a day in which we meet Christ in His Word and dine with Him at His table.

I’ll conclude with this quote from the Westminster Confession of Faith:

Chapter XXI.V
The reading of the Scriptures with godly fear, the sound preaching and conscionable hearing of the Word, in obedience unto God, with understanding, faith and reverence, singing of psalms with grace in the heart; as also, the due administration and worthy receiving of the sacraments instituted by Christ, are all parts of the ordinary religious worship of God: beside religious oaths, vows, solemn fastings, and thanksgivings upon special occasions, which are, in their several times and seasons, to be used in an holy and religious manner.

Note those practices that are “ordinary religious worship” as distinct from those that are “beside.”  To use my earlier definition of the word “ordinary,” I would say that the practices listed as such—reading of Scripture, preaching, hearing of the Word, singing of psalms, and due administration of sacraments—are to be regular weekly occurrences in the worship of each Lord’s Day.

Keeping Time (Part 1): An Epic Mars Hill Apologetic

I had intended to first look at the Church Calendar from an Old Testament point of view, as well as from a Christian conception of time. I still want to do that, but first I think it might be good to take a look at the practical effects and uses of the Church Year.

Much has been said of the “pagan origins” of certain Christian holidays.  The one that springs immediately to mind is Halloween (All Hallow’s Eve), stemming from the Celtic Samhain.  Other holidays that receive objections of paganism are Christmas and even Easter (Pascha).  We look at these origins and wonder, why did the Church adopt pagan festival days for its Christian holidays?  One view is that this was an error of the Roman Church, which was synchretizing with the paganism of the world and corrupting itself.

I suggest there is another more Biblical way of looking at it—namely, that the Church Year is, in fact, the apostle Paul’s Mars Hill apologetic applied on an epic scale.  So let’s take a look at what exactly Paul does at Mars Hill in Acts 17.

“Men of Athens, I perceive that in every way you are very religious. For as I passed along and observed the objects of your worship, I found also an altar with this inscription, ‘To the unknown god.’ What therefore you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, in the hope that they might feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for

“‘In him we live and move and have our being’;

as even some of your own poets have said,

“‘For we are indeed his offspring.’

Being then God’s offspring, we ought not to think that the divine being is like gold or silver or stone, an image formed by the art and imagination of man. The times of ignorance God overlooked, but now he commands all people everywhere to repent, because he has fixed a day on which he will judge the world in righteousness by a man whom he has appointed; and of this he has given assurance to all by raising him from the dead.”

Now when they heard of the resurrection of the dead, some mocked. But others said, “We will hear you again about this.”

Acts 17:22-32

The two quotes that Paul uses here are from the Greek writers Epimenides and Aratus.  Is Paul endorsing a Greek conception of God?  Of course not.  Rather, he is taking their philosophical insights and religious practices (even their sacrifices!) and turning them on their head, wresting them from the paganism in which they were formed and re-purposing them to describe and illuminate the One True God.

In essence, Paul tells them that they have been sacrificing to God, whom they did not know . . . And here’s your chance to know Him! He takes their philosophers and poets and assumes that they had discovered a measure of truth . . . so, men of Athens, here is the rest of the story!

This is an apologetic method that most Christians today wouldn’t dream of using, for fear of appearing to endorse paganism.  But this was Paul’s method.  It was John’s method in the prologue to his Gospel account when he described the second person of the Godhead as the Logos.  And it was the method that the Church adopted throughout history as it formed its Calendar.

It started with Easter.  Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.  So the Church began to celebrate the true Passover, leaving the shadow behind.  Incidentally, I don’t like to call it Easter, but Pascha.  Eostre is the goddess of the dawn.  She represents rebirth and fertility.  The Church displaces her and instead preaches Resurrection.

Christmas takes place around the winter solstice, when the pagan cults celebrated the returning of the sun.  It is the point in the year where darkness begins to recede and light begins to gain ground again.  The Church took this and said: You celebrate light overtaking darkness, but in ignorance.  Let us teach you about the True Light that shines in the darkness, Jesus Christ, who came into the world at its darkest hour.

At Samhain, the Celts celebrated the harvest.  On this day they believed that the spirits of the dead could pass between the world of the living and the underworld.  The Church fixed All Hallows Eve and All Saint’s Day at this point, in effect telling the pagan cults: You celebrate the dead in ignorance.  Let us teach you the truth that the souls of saints who have fallen asleep are with the Lord, and will rise on the last day.

Of course, the Church has a long way yet to go.  The application of this Mars Hill apologetic has not been perfect or entire in history.  Especially in this modern age, because so many Christians have relinquished their claim on these days, and on time itself, the Church has allowed paganism to creep back in.  We still have Easter bunnies and eggs, and yule, and ghosts, goblins and ghouls running free in our neighborhoods on Halloween.  There is still a great deal of work to do if we are to effectively displace paganism from the year and preach the Truth.

But the concept is sound and Biblical.  Wrest away from the devil what was never his to begin with, and turn it on its head in order to illuminate the Truth of Jesus Christ and his rule over time and space.

On “Ordinary” Time

"Perpetual Calendar" by BrunoFr

This is not my “Keeping Time” post that I have planned, as I am still gathering thoughts for that, but it is certainly related.  It’s more of a side note and a parenthetical.

Two weeks ago was Pentecost Sunday, and we celebrated the coming of the Holy Spirit to the Church. Christ has ascended into heaven, and from there he sends the Paraclete to comfort, to guide, to lead, and to reveal Truth to the People of God.

So we have entered the part of the year commonly known as “Ordinary Time.” Eh? What’s that? Critics of the Church Calendar look at this and laugh. You have half a year dedicated to feasts and observance of Christ’s life and ministry on earth, leading up to his death and resurrection . . . and then you have ordinary time.

Doesn’t this just confirm the objection that the Church Calendar causes us to regard some Lord’s days as “more holy” than others? Isn’t ordinary time kinda dull in comparison with Christmas or Pascha (Easter)?  Admittedly, this is often the case in many churches, who observe the Church Year.  But it should not be that way, especially if we properly understand what “Ordinary Time” is.

First, we should consider the etymology of  the word “ordinary.”  These days in colloquial language it generally means every-day-unexceptional-unexciting-plain-homely blah.  But the word didn’t always have those connotations.  The word “ordinary” essentially means to count in order.  It denotes rhythm and structure.  It did not necessarily have any sense of the mundane or the boring.

So what purpose does ordinary time serve for the use of the Church in the passing of time?  This season, the longest of the Church year, is also rightly called the “season after Pentecost.”  To bring things into better focus, some have even termed it the season of Pentecost.  It is an important season in the life of the Church, for just as we have celebrated the incarnation of Christ (Christmas), his death and resurrection (Pascha), his ascension, and his sending of the Spirit, the Church now goes out into the world in the power of that Spirit to fulfill Christ’s Great Commission.

Ordinary time is the annual equivalent to the liturgical dismissal: “Now go forth into the world to love and to serve the Lord Jesus Christ.”  It is essentially the Church Calendar’s answer to the question of “so what?”  As such, the season should be no more mundane, purposeless, or boring than the mission of the Church is irrelevant in light of the ministry of Christ.  We must keep the mission of the Church in the world in focus during this season.

So for the Church observing ordinary time, the season after Pentecost: we walk in the Spirit and have Christ as our King, to whom all power and authority is given in heaven and on earth . . . so what?