“Do this in memory of
me.” Do what in memory of whom? Jesus
said: “Whenever you eat my Body, and
Drink my blood, do it in memory of me.”
Why did Jesus say this at “the Last Supper?” Was he being selfish telling us to remember
him?
In general, it is good and
enriching to remember the noble deeds and characteristic actions of truly good
human beings. The action of Jesus which
he tells us to remember is first of all what he did at his last meal before being
crucified. Knowing what was about to
take place, Jesus took bread, gave thanks to God, broke the bread, and gave it
to his disciples to eat. The action
itself, in the context of the Passover meal, is clearly rooted both in the
Exodus event and in Jewish family meals and prayers. And then in a similar way, after supper,
Jesus lifted up the cup of wine, gave thanks to God, and asked his disciples to
drink from the one cup. Again, the
action befits the Passover, the celebration of the LORD God leading His people,
through Moses, from captivity in Egypt to freedom under God. Jesus gave his disciples bread and wine in
the context of the Passover meal as a memorial for keeping his disciples
mindful of what Christ did for each and for all. He makes of us an Exodus people: human beings on a journey through
death-in-self into the sheer peace and freedom of God.
The prayer and sharing of the
bread and wine, with the command to “do this in memory of me,” are not rooted
in themselves, nor do they point simply to themselves. Rather, they direct our minds directly to
Jesus Christ and to what he did for us and for all in his ultimate self-giving
act of love, even unto death by the brutal torture of crucifixion. Christ established what he called “the new
covenant in my blood” through his life-giving death on the cross; and he
established the memorial for the new covenant at the Passover Last Supper. Jesus used the rich meaning of the Passover
to throw light on his suffering unto death for us, and to show us the way to
the new Exodus into God.
Christ is teaching us, among
other things, that the God who led His people out of bondage in Egypt through
Moses is now leading his disciples from the bondage of sin and death into life
eternal in God. This is the new
Exodus. “God was in Christ, reconciling
the world to himself,” as the Apostle Paul explains. The evangelist John similarly turns the
life-giving action of Christ into a lesson for every disciple: “As I have done for you, so you also must do
for one another.” And what must one do
for each other? Give oneself up in love
to bring each other into union with God.
Is this explanation of “Do
this in memory of me” too familiar, and perhaps too superficial? Familiar it is. But let’s bear in mind that the depth of the
meaning comes not from the words used to interpret Christ’s Eucharistic gift to
us. Whatever real depth of meaning is in
the Eucharist comes from the depth of Christ’s love, which surely is in the
mystery of God—in the mystery of the divine abyss. We may peer into this abyss, but not
see. Love alone understands love. Only to the extent that one “goes and does
likewise,” that one is self-giving as Christ is self-giving, can one truly
understand the Eucharistic feast. The
man, woman, or child, who comes to the table / altar of the Lord, and humble
and lovingly surrenders “all that I am, all that I have,” is the one who has a
genuine understanding of the Eucharist.
“Just as I am, without one plea…”
"Do this in memory of
me.” Do what in memory of Christ? Ultimately, the entire orientation of our
lives ought to be “in memory of Me,” in a faith-union with the Christ who “humbled
himself, and became obedient into death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2). As we consciously remember who Christ is, and
what He has done for us and for all, and as we put into daily practice
his abandonment of a self-centered life in all of its forms for the good of
others, then we truly are living “in memory of Me.”
