I am concluding a brief stay in Torreciudad, and before returning to Burgos, I would like to share some thoughts on the Gospel of the fifth week of Easter, where Jesus expands on the parable of the vine, the branches, and the fruit. If branches that bear fruit do not emerge from the vine, it is a sign of something serious. The fruit is natural, and the farmer prunes or cuts off the sterile branches.

Today, the situation of the Church in the West evokes this image: we are sterile vines and branches. The Christian faith and spirituality in the West are undergoing a profound crisis. The French sociologist Emmanuel Todd describes three phases of Christianity in Europe: an initial phase of activity, where a significant number of Europeans believed and practiced the Christian faith; a second phase, which he calls zombie, where faith has been lost at the popular level, but practices related to the stages of biographical transition (baptism, marriage, funeral) remain; and a third phase, the current one, which he calls the zero of Christianity, where not even these practices are maintained. The boundary between the zombie phase and the zero, according to Todd, is marked by equal marriage, where the law and public opinion do not distinguish between one type of union or another, regardless of whether there is a bond, a distinction between men and women, or openness to life.

We find ourselves in the first post-Christian civilization, something never seen before. Curiously, Europe continues to influence the rest of the world, transmitting a post-Christian lifestyle to emerging countries, especially in Africa, which receive it without having previously been Christians.

Europe, a Land of Mission and a New Beginning

We are facing a new evangelization: Europe is a land of mission, and we must start from scratch. This has negative and positive aspects. Among the negative ones, there is a prejudice about what it means to be Christian in this post-Christian civilization. Christianity is perceived as something outdated, typical of an obscurantist and archaic mentality in terms of scientific and technological development. Furthermore, we Christians ourselves struggle to distinguish between the essence of Christianity (what was initially disseminated) and the enormous cultural overlay that has been added over the centuries. As Saint John Paul II stated, “A faith that does not become culture is a faith not fully embraced, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived.” Faith becomes inculturated, becoming customs, laws, and practices, with a more or less necessary connection to its core. Deep formation is required to distinguish what is circumstantial and historical from what is linked to the essence of faith.

The positive aspect, so to speak, of the current secularization in the West is that this sociological-cultural Christianity has been swept away, recovering the original version of Christianity as a personal relationship with Christ. As Benedict XVI said, “One does not begin to be a Christian by an ethical decision or a great idea, but by an event, by the encounter with the person of Christ.” Therefore, the new beginning means returning to how Christianity first emerged, what is called Easter.

Easter and the Eucharist: The Heart of Christianity

Easter is the concept that encompasses the set of situations and events that comprise Christ’s love to the extreme. His entire life is love, but fundamentally his final days: Holy Thursday, the Last Supper, where he gives himself; Good Friday, where he puts that gift into practice; Holy Saturday, the consummation of that gift to the end, to death; and Easter Sunday, when the Father resurrects him with a glorified body, no longer subject to space and time, allowing him to return to the right hand of the Father and dwell in the soul of the Christian (grace, the sacraments, especially baptism). Father, Son, and Holy Spirit dwell with the glorified body in the soul of the Christian in grace. Thus the Church began.

For this reason, Jesus Christ said: “Do this in memory of me.” Of the four elements of Easter, the most important is the first, Holy Thursday: the institution of the Eucharist. From this moment on, a chain of transformations begins. The Church emerges from the Eucharist, and a new beginning and a new evangelization also spring from it.

The Mass is the actualization of Christ’s Passover. Two transubstantiations take place in it: the conversion of the bread and wine into the sacramental body of Christ and the conversion of Christians into the ecclesial body. Those who receive Communion become one spirit with Christ, and those who receive Communion become one, a society, the Church. And the Church transforms the world. Everything arises from there: from the transformation of the bread and wine, from the transformation of the communicant into Christ, from the transformation of the communicants into the Church, and from the transformation of the world by Christians.

“Do This”: Beyond a Ritual

In contemporary secularization, the new evangelization refers us to what Christ told us: “Do this,” that is, celebrate the Eucharist. But this “do this” can be interpreted in different ways depending on the faith.

• A childlike faith understands the Eucharist as a ritual, a physical doing of what Jesus did that night, as a kind of magic. Certain things are done, certain words are said, and effects are produced. The sacraments are efficacious, ex opere operato, but the Lord was not referring to a ceremony parallel to life, unmixed with it, and with a magical aspect.
• An adult faith conceives the Eucharist as a sociological gathering, the communion of Christians who gather for self-affirmation, formation, or self-awareness. Everything would be perfectly transparent, a sociological gathering where decisions are made, without anything mysterious or symbolic.

Truly, the Lord’s “do this” does not refer to a childlike faith or an adult faith, but to a mature faith, which consists in identifying with Christ in his extreme love. In this week’s Gospel, we read, “I am the vine, you are the branches”: a vital connection with Christ, with that self-giving on Holy Thursday. “Do this in memory of me” is not just a remembrance, but with his very dispositions, with his very self-giving. When Jesus says, “Whatever you ask in my name, I will do it,” it is not only a reference to Him, but in His spirit, in identification with Him. When He says, “Love one another as I have loved you,” He is not only the exemplary cause or model, but fundamentally the efficient cause. To the extent that we are united to Christ, we are capable of loving others.

Active Participation in the Mass: An Act of Surrender

Active participation in the Mass is surrendering oneself to Christ. It is embodying the prayer of St. Ignatius: “Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory, my understanding, and all my will; all my possessions and all my possessions; you gave them to me, to you, Lord, I return them; all are yours, dispose of them as you will; give me your love and grace, for this is enough for me.” Or as in the popular prayer to the Virgin Mary: “Oh, my Lady, oh, my Mother! I offer myself completely to you, and as proof of my filial affection, I consecrate to you this day my eyes, my ears, my tongue, my heart; in a word, my whole being. Since I am completely yours, oh, Mother of goodness, guard and defend me as your property and possession.” This is coming to Mass with a disposition of surrender.

How is this done in practice?

1. Going a few minutes before Mass to pray and update these dispositions. Saying to the Lord: “I surrender myself totally to you. I want in this Mass, like Jesus on that Holy Thursday night, to surrender my whole life to you: my body given, my blood shed, my memory, my intelligence, my will, my life, my past, my future, whatever will happen today, all my powers, whatever you want.” A total and radical surrender of oneself before Mass.
2. In the same Mass, at the moment of the Elevation after the consecration of the bread, a highly recommended pious practice is the actualization of the offering of oneself to merciful love. One can say: “Lord, Father, I offer myself as a sacrifice of holocaust” (total surrender, leaving no trace) “to you, to merciful love, so that today you may do what you want in my heart and through my heart.”
3. A third moment is after Mass: then begins our Good Friday, putting this surrender into practice, and even our Holy Saturday, the consummation of that surrender when we can no longer bear it.
4. Finally, the other moment is the end of the day: our daily Easter Sunday, where we experience the joy of having lived the day in this way, transforming it into love, helping Christ to save, to redeem, and being co-redeemers. There is no more beautiful reason to live and give one’s life than this, and from this comes the joy at the end of the day, a foretaste of the joy we will one day have in heaven.

The Beauty of the Mass: An Act that Transforms

For all these reasons, the Mass is the center and root of the interior life. As Flannery O’Connor recounts, invited to a dinner where the Eucharist was being discussed as a mere symbol, she responded: “If it’s nothing more than a symbol, I’m not interested.” And to her friend, she confesses: “That’s the only thing I could think of to say, and when I think about it, it’s the only thing I’ll be able to say about the Eucharist, apart from the fact that for me it’s the fundamental part of my existence. I can safely do without everything else: youth, talent, success, fame… I can do without all of that, but not the Mass. It is the center and root of my life.”

The Mass is the center and root not only of the life of every Christian, but also of the new evangelization. The Mass is transmitted, producing a transformation of each person into a whole (the Church), and of the Church transforming the world.

Dostoevsky, although not literally, has his characters (Prince Myshkin and Alyosha Karamazov) say twice that “beauty will save the world.” This can be paraphrased as “the Mass will change the world.” Beauty is an incarnate idea, an incarnate spirit. We perceive beauty when, behind the physical, we sense a spiritual reality. A starry night moves us not only because of the blackness with white flecks, but because of the immensity of the universe and our smallness. The arts are beautiful when they unite the physical with a spiritual idea or reality.

This happens sublimely in the Mass. When the priest identifies with Christ, and the participant does as well, there is not just a performance, but an actualization: one participates in Christ’s self-giving at the Last Supper. Here lies a powerful paradox: it is easier to be wise than to be holy, but it is more attainable to be holy than to be wise. We can all be saints, even if it is more difficult, because it consists in identifying with Christ, where grace takes center stage.

As Wittgenstein said, “what cannot be explained must be shown.” Therefore, the new evangelization begins with active participation in the Holy Mass. When the priest and those present actively participate, something very powerful happens, something shining, something beautiful. The then-young José Boix, in 1938, wrote in his diary about the Mass celebrated by Saint Josemaría Escrivá in the Pyrenees during the Spanish Civil War: “Here takes place the most moving act of the trip, the Holy Mass. On a rock, kneeling, almost lying on the ground, a priest who comes with us says Mass. He doesn’t pray it like other priests in the churches. His clear and heartfelt words penetrate the soul. I have never heard a Mass like today, I don’t know if it is because of the circumstances or because the celebrant is a saint.”

Nostalgia for the extraordinary rite of the Mass is, in reality, nostalgia for active participation, both of the priest and the participants. Those who participate in the Mass in this way experience something so powerful that the ordinary rite is more than sufficient for this commitment. This commitment is demonstrated in charity: “By this all will know that you are my disciples,” in a love that springs from the new commandment: “As I have loved you, let my love, my gift of myself in the Eucharist, enlarge your hearts and enable you to love a little as mine does.”

This is the episcopal and papal motto of Leo XIII: “In Hilo Unum” (in Him, one). The unity of the Church, of work, of the family, among friends, springs from union with Christ. Charity is a love that springs from union with Christ, distinct from all other loves.

Mary, Eucharistic Woman

The new evangelization begins with Holy Mass, as it did the first time, like the first Easter: Holy Thursday, then Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Ascension, Pentecost. Christ lives in the soul of the Christian, Christians who have Christ and form the community of the Church, the Church that transforms the world. Let us begin again with Holy Thursday, with Holy Mass, with active participation. It is the most evangelizing, the most revolutionary, the most transformative, the most essential aspect of Christianity.

I conclude with a reference to the Blessed Virgin Mary, who is called the Eucharistic Woman for many reasons. At the Last Supper, she learned what had happened, which is why she will be at the foot of the cross the next day. Mary is a Eucharistic Woman in herself, because beauty is the union of a material reality with a spiritual one, and the Mass is beautiful. If, in addition to doing it physically, there is a contribution, an identification with Christ, an identification with his surrender, a doing as Christ did, surrendering ourselves to Him radically in that moment, then the Mass is pure beauty.

Mary is the mother of Christ not only because she gave birth to him biologically, not only because she gave him her body like any mother, but because she also gave him her entire soul: her thoughts, her feelings, her memories, her imagination, her time, her plans, her entire life. A total surrender like that of Christ at the Last Supper.

Do you think this reflection on the Eucharist can inspire a change in the way we live our faith in Europe today?