Mass Talks 14: Preface & Sanctus

We enter now into the very heart of the Mass in speaking about the Preface and the Sanctus, the beginnings of the Eucharistic Prayer.

The very first words of the Preface–the word Preface meaning an introduction–are among the oldest words of the Mass. Sacred Scripture informs us that, before consecrating the bread and wine, Jesus “gave thanks.” The Church in turn follows the divine pattern by this prayer of thanksgiving. You know well the dialogue with the priest that forms the first part of the Preface which I will give to you in a more literal English rendition of the Latin original: “The Lord be with you. And with your spirit. Lift up your hearts. We have unto the Lord. Let us give thanks (note the expression ‘give thanks’) to the Lord our God. It is meet and just.” A comment or two about these words is in order.

“Lift up your hearts...to the Lord” is accompanied by a gesture in which the priest raises his hands. The invitation is to disengaged your minds from things of this earth, for you are now about to enter the most sublime part of the Mass. As St. Paul says, “Seek the things that are above where Christ is” (Col 3:1), turning our thoughts from worldly objects and distracting thoughts and focusing them on the Lord. Conversely, as Saint Augustine remarked, there are indeed people who raise their hearts but ‘away from’ the Lord rather than ‘towards’ the Lord. Rousing one’s heart “unto the Lord” then means to have them glow with a holy love of God so that they can soar to heaven. We should beg God to have hearts thus raised, like the eyes of a servant on the hands of his master (to borrow words from a psalm). Another possible meaning of this text–and it just may be the original intent of these words–refers to the direction the priest and people face in the Mass. Facing east (as we now do here at Grotto) is facing the Lord, or lifting our hearts to Him in a unified direction, priest and people, towards the east. Since I have commented on this in writing before, I will not say more on the subject here.

Once the priest has said, “Let us give thanks,” he launches into the body of the Preface by doing just that: giving thanks. It is truly right, he says, that we should give God thanks for something or other. Each of the different prefaces selects some one thing as the motive for thanking God. As they are so many things to choose from, so they are many prefaces. We thank God for creating the universe, for the incarnation, for the passion of Christ which has redeemed us, for the Church, for the Sacraments, the priesthood, and so on. Here we see why we have the word ‘Eucharist’ used for the consecrated bread and wine: Eucharist means thanksgiving. But this is not merely a summons to the congregation to thank and praise God, but rather a cosmic, universal appeal to all creation to adoration. Surely you must recognize that our little Mass here–however transcendent in value–is but one small voice in a whole symphony of praise to God that takes place both in heaven and on earth. Our Mass here is connected to the liturgy that unceasingly takes place before God’s throne in heaven. This is suitably described in the book of the Apocalypse where the armies of angels and saints fall down in adoration of the Most High. It is for this reason that, at the conclusion of the Preface, we summon the saints and angels to join us in our Mass. Actually, it is more the case that we are being linked to heaven, by a kind of simulcast transmission, in uniting our voices with heaven in the worship of God: as we say, “heaven and earth are filled with your glory.” A typical conclusion of the Preface is as follows: “And therefore with the Angels and Archangels, with the Thrones and Dominations, and with all the militia of the heavenly army, we sing a hymn to your glory, saying without end... Holy, holy, holy.” According to common teaching, there are nine choirs of Angels, each with a distinct role in God’s plan, but all contributing to the glory of God. According to Sts. John Chrysostom and Thomas Aquinas, at Mass, the angles surround the priest and populate the sanctuary to adore God present on the altar.

The Preface is merely the stepping stone to the chanting of praise and adoration which is the Sanctus. The Latin word for ‘holy’ is, of course, sanctus, from which we derive other English words, such as saint, sanctity and sanctuary. Instead of addressing God as ‘Holiest’ God, or ‘most holy,’ we repeat the word: holy, holy, holy. Thrice-holy is an intensification of the word–a practice typically Hebrew–to indicate the superlative, a holiness beyond the power of human language. But it is also a reference to the Blessed Trinity. The text of the Sanctus comes entirely from the bible, the first part taken from the vision of Isaiah and that of Saint John in the book of Revelation. In the hapless translation we now have the banal phrase, “God of power and might.” The Hebrew word Sabaoth is retained in the original Latin text, meaning Lord of the armies: a very strong visual image of commanding Omnipotence. As Isaiah said in one place, the Lord “is a man of war!” a comforting thought to us who must fight so many spiritual battles every day.

The second part of the Sanctus is derived from the praises sung to Jesus the Messiah as he was about to enter Jerusalem on Palm Sunday: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!” How appropriate that the Church uses this text that recalls Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem when, at Mass, He is about to reenter into our midst through the consecration: Blessed is He who is coming. The word Hosanna! is the equivalent to saying Hail! or Long live the Lord! A bell used to be sounded by the altar server at the beginning of the Sanctus as an acclamation of praise and an admonition to the congregation to be reverent.

We are now somewhat impoverished in our appreciation of the text of the Sanctus because the reverential posture that used to accompany it (the priest used to bend low over the altar and the people would be kneeling) is no longer observed. Too bad! In the original passage from Isaiah, the seraphim angels covered their faces before the awesome majesty of God. In the Apocalypse, the heavenly creatures fall down before God and cast their crowns before Him. We’ve become at little too casual, even a bit haughty in our posture before the Almighty.

The other thing that has diminished our Sanctus is the humdrum and often secular-styled music that often accompanies it. While even the simplest Gregorian Chant conveys the sublimity of the text, our modern music too often derogates from its nobility.

The Sanctus text has been well paraphrased in the hymn, “Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty.” In its second stanza we read:

Holy, holy, holy! All the saints adore Thee,
Casting down their golden crowns around the glassy sea;
Cherubim and Seraphim falling down before Thee,
God everlasting through eternity.

You can pray the Sanctus not only at Mass but at other times too: when you come into church, for example, and are desperately trying to focus your mind on the Presence of the Lord in the tabernacle. I myself use a derivative of it in my morning prayers: “Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Sabaoth, the heavens and the earth are full of your glory: Glory be to the Father, glory be to the Son, glory be to the Holy Spirit.”

With the Sanctus having been prayed or sung, we are then ready to enter the holy of holies with the priest commencing the first words of the great Eucharistic Prayer.