Christ’s sacrifice and ours
Christ’s sacrifice and ours
Although the Christian life is a continuous festival, the Lord’s Supper is the particular Christian equivalent to the Passover. It is therefore central to the church’s life of celebration. It was instituted by Jesus at Passover-time, indeed during the Passover meal itself, and he deliberately replaced the ceremonial recitation ‘This is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate’ with ‘This is my body given for you. ... This is my blood shed for you . ..’. The bread and wine of the Christian festival oblige us to look back to the cross of Christ, and to recall with gratitude what he suffered and accomplished there.
Protestant churches have traditionally referred to Baptism and the Lord’s Supper as either ‘sacraments of the gospel’ (because they dramatize the central truths of the good news) or ‘sacraments of grace’ (because they set forth visibly God’s gracious saving initiative). Both expressions are correct. The primary movement which the gospel sacraments embody is from God to man, not man to God. The application of water in baptism represents either cleansing from sin and the outpouring of the Spirit (if it is administered by affusion) or sharing Christ’s death and resurrection (if by immersion) or both. We do not baptize ourselves. We submit to baptism, and the action done to us symbolizes the saving work of Christ. In the Lord’s Supper, similarly, the essential drama consists of the taking, blessing, breaking and giving of bread, and the taking, blessing, pouring and giving of wine. We do not (or should not) administer the elements to ourselves. They are given to us; we receive them. And as we eat the bread and drink the wine physically, so spiritually by faith we feed on Christ crucified in our hearts. Thus, in both sacraments we are more or less passive, recipients not donors, beneficiaries not benefactors.
At the same time, baptism is recognized as an appropriate occasion for the confession of faith, and the Lord’s Supper for the offering of thanksgiving. Hence the increasingly popular use of ‘Eucharist’ (eucharistia, ‘thanksgiving’) as a name for the Lord’s Supper. And since ‘sacrifice’ is another word for ‘offer’, it is not surprising that the term ‘eucharistic sacrifice’ came to be invented. But is it legitimate? What does it imply?
To begin with, we should all be able to agree on five ways in which what we do at the Lord’s Supper is related to the self-sacrifice of Christ on the cross. First, we remember his sacrifice: ‘do this in remembrance of me’, he said (1 Cor. 11:24–25). Indeed, the prescribed actions with the bread and wine make the remembrance vivid and dramatic. Secondly, we partake of its benefits. The purpose of the service goes beyond ‘commemoration’ to ‘communion’ (koinōnia): ‘Is not the cup of thanksgiving for which we give thanks a participation in the blood of Christ? And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ?’ (1 Cor. 10:16). For this reason the Eucharist is rightly called the ‘Holy Communion’ (since through it we may share in Christ) and the ‘Lord’s Supper’ (since through it we may feed, even feast, on Christ). Thirdly, we proclaim his sacrifice: ‘For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes’ (1 Cor. 11:26). Although his death took place centuries ago, the proclamation of it continues today. Yet the Supper is a temporary provision. It looks forward to the Lord’s coming as well as back to the Lord’s death. It is not only a feast upon Christ crucified but a foretaste of his heavenly banquet. It thus spans the whole period between his two comings. Fourthly, we attribute our unity to his sacrifice. For we never partake of the Lord’s Supper alone, in the privacy of our own room. No, we ‘come together’ (1 Cor. 11:20) in order to celebrate. And we recognize that it is our common share in the benefits of Christ’s sacrifice which has united us: ‘Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf’ (1 Cor. 10:17). Fifthly, we give thanks for his sacrifice, and in token of our thanksgiving offer ourselves, our souls and bodies as ‘living sacrifices’ to his service (Rom. 12:1).
So then, whenever we share in the Lord’s Supper, his sacrifice on the cross is remembered, partaken of, proclaimed, acknowledged as the ground of our unity, and responded to in grateful worship. The question which remains, however, is whether there is any closer relationship still between the sacrifice Christ offered on the cross and the sacrifice of thanksgiving we offer in the Eucharist, between his ‘dying’ sacrifice and our ‘living’ sacrifices. It is this which has divided Christendom since the sixteenth century, and is a topic of anxious ecumenical debate today. We cannot talk about the church as a ‘community of celebration’, without delving more deeply into the nature of the eucharistic celebration.
Already in the immediate post-apostolic period the early church Fathers began to use sacrificial language in relation to the Lord’s Supper. They saw in it a fulfilment of Malachi 1:11. ‘ “In every place incense and pure offerings will be brought to my name, because my name will be great among the nations,” says the LORD Almighty.’8 But the unconsecrated bread and wine as ‘pure offerings’ were symbols of the creation, for which the people gave thanks. The ancient authors also regarded the people’s prayers and praises, and alms for the poor, as an offering to God. It was not until Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage in the middle of the third century, that the Lord’s Supper itself was called a true sacrifice, in which the passion of the Lord was offered to God by priests, whose sacrificial role was said to parallel that of the Old Testament priests. From this beginning the eucharistic doctrine of medieval Catholicism eventually developed, namely that the Christian priest offered Christ, really present under the forms of bread and wine, as a propitiatory sacrifice to God for the sins of the living and the dead. And it was against this that the Reformers vigorously protested.
Although Luther and Calvin diverged from one another in their eucharistic teaching, all the Reformers were united in rejecting the sacrifice of the mass, and were concerned to make a clear distinction between the cross and the sacrament, between Christ’s sacrifice offered for us and our sacrifices offered through him. Cranmer expressed the differences with lucidity:
One kind of sacrifice there is, which is called a propitiatory or merciful sacrifice, that is to say, such a sacrifice as pacifieth God’s wrath and indignation, and obtaineth mercy and forgiveness for all our sins....And although in the Old Testament there were certain sacrifices called by that name, yet in very deed there is but one such sacrifice whereby our sins be pardoned, and God’s mercy and favour obtained, which is the death of the Son of God, our Lord Jesu Christ; nor never was any other sacrifice propitiatory at any time, nor never shall be. This is the honour and glory of this our High Priest, wherein he admitteth neither partner nor successor...
Another kind of sacrifice there is, which doth not reconcile us to God, but is made of (sc. by) them that be reconciled by Christ, to testify our duties unto God, and to show ourselves thankful unto him. And therefore they be called sacrifices of laud, praise and thanksgiving.
The first kind of sacrifice Christ offered to God for us; the second kind we ourselves offer to God by (sc. through) Christ.9
Once this vital distinction had been made, Cranmer was determined to be consistent in its application. The ordained minister could still be called a ‘priest’, because this English word is simply a contraction of the word ‘presbyter’ (elder), but every reference to an ‘altar’ was eliminated from the Book of Common Prayer and replaced by ‘table’, ‘holy table’, ‘Lord’s table’ or ‘Communion table’. For Cranmer saw clearly that the Communion service is a supper served by a minister from a table, not a sacrifice offered by a priest on an altar. The shape of his final Communion Service exhibits the same determination, for the thankful self-offering of the people was taken out of the Prayer of Consecration (where it was in his first Communion Service, replacing the offering of Christ himself in the medieval mass) and judiciously placed after the reception of the bread and wine as a ‘Prayer of Oblation’. In this way, beyond any possibility of misunderstanding, the people’s sacrifice was seen to be their offering of praise in responsive gratitude for Christ’s sacrifice, whose benefits they had again received by faith.
Scripture undergirds Cranmer’s doctrine, both in safeguarding the uniqueness of Christ’s sacrifice and in defining our sacrifices as expressing our thanksgiving, not securing God’s favour. The unique finality of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is indicated by the adverb hapax or ephapax (meaning ‘once for all’), which is applied to it five times in the letter to the Hebrews. For example, ‘Unlike the other high priests, he does not need to offer sacrifices day after day, first for his own sins, and then for the sins of the people. He sacrificed for their sins once for all when he offered himself.’ Again, ‘now he has appeared once for all at the end of the ages to do away with sin by the sacrifice of himself’.10 That is why, unlike the Old Testament priests who stood to perform their temple duties, repeatedly offering the same sacrifices, Jesus Christ, having made ‘one sacrifice for sins for ever’, sat down at God’s right hand, resting from his finished work (Heb. 10:11–12).
Although his work of atonement has been accomplished, he still has a continuing heavenly ministry, however. This is not to ‘offer’ his sacrifice to God, since the offering was made once for all on the cross; nor to ‘present’ it to the Father, pleading that it may be accepted, since its acceptance was publicly demonstrated by the resurrection; but rather to ‘intercede’ for sinners on the basis of it, as our advocate. It is in this that his ‘permanent priesthood’ consists, for intercession was as much a priestly ministry as sacrifice: ‘he always lives to intercede’ for us.11
The uniqueness of Christ’s sacrifice does not mean, then, that we have no sacrifices to offer, but only that their nature and purpose are different. They are not material but spiritual, and their object is not propitiatory but eucharistic, the expression of a responsive gratitude. This is the second biblical undergirding of Cranmer’s position. The New Testament describes the church as a priestly community, both a ‘holy priesthood’ and a ‘royal priesthood’, in which all God’s people share equally as ‘priests’.12 This is the famous ‘priesthood of all believers’, on which the Reformers laid great stress. In consequence of this universal priesthood, the word ‘priest’ (hiereus) is never in the New Testament applied to the ordained minister, since he shares in offering what the people offer, but has no distinctive offering to make which differs from theirs.
What spiritual sacrifices, then, do the people of God as a ‘holy priesthood’ offer to him? Eight are mentioned in Scripture. First, we are to present our bodies to him for his service, as ‘living sacrifices’. This sounds like a material offering, but it is termed our ‘spiritual worship’ (Rom. 12:1), presumably because it pleases God only if it expresses the worship of the heart. Secondly, we offer God our praise, worship and thanksgiving, ‘the fruit of lips that confess his name’.13 Our third sacrifice is prayer, which is said to ascend to God like fragrant incense, and our fourth ‘a broken and contrite heart’, which God accepts and never despises.14 Fifthly, faith is called a ‘sacrifice and service’. So too, sixthly, are our gifts and good deeds, for ‘with such sacrifices God is pleased’.15 The seventh sacrifice is our life poured out like a drink offering in God’s service, even unto death, while the eighth is the special offering of the evangelist, whose preaching of the gospel is called a ‘priestly duty’ because he is able to present his converts as ‘an offering acceptable to God’.16
These eight are all, in Daniel Waterland’s words, ‘true and evangelical sacrifices’, because they belong to the gospel not the law, and are thankful responses to God’s grace in Christ.17 They are spiritual and ‘intrinsic’ too, being ‘either good thoughts, good words or good ways, all of them issues of the heart’.18 And, he continued, the Eucharist may be termed a ‘sacrifice’ only because it is an occasion both for remembering Christ’s sacrifice and for making a responsive, comprehensive offering of ours.