Sometimes, before the Eucharist, the priest reminds the congregation of the requirements: having made their First Communion, received the Sacrament of Reconciliation within the year, not being in a state of grave sin or having confessed it… and, of course, believing in the rite they are about to participate in. This might seem surprising—should there be conditions for God’s unconditional gift? Here lies the paradox: a gift can only be received by someone willing to welcome it—even, and especially if it is an unconditional gift.
In a commercial transaction, a person can remain disengaged from the relationship as long as both parties get what they want. But the gift of love requires reciprocal openness. In a sense, the recipient must be open to the openness that precedes them—given over to the gift being offered. Thus, God’s unconditional gift to those who desire it makes that desire both its fulfillment and its condition.
This is why nothing is as fragile as a gift. If openness is met with refusal, grace remains in vain (1 Corinthians 15:10). From this, we can observe three types of exchanges. In commerce, as mentioned, the exchange happens even if each party remains focused on their own interests. In violent exchange, one party’s closure (the aggressor) automatically leads to the closure of the other (the victim); all it takes for a country to be at war is for another to declare it. In the exchange of love, however, one person’s openness hopes for, but cannot force, the openness of the other.
‘Exalted,’ lifted beyond the very anxiety that led us to pray…
Participating in the Eucharistic rite is not about conforming to external rules—it is about offering oneself to the offering. This deepens, rather than resolves, the paradox. Does this not imply that we can only experience God’s gift if we are already living it? The answer is yes, according to a logic that becomes clear when we examine what the Bible tells us about prayer.
Prayer is the act of a creature entrusting itself to the Father. It is not, as Jesus warns, about “babbling” (Matthew 6:7) but about measuring divine generosity. To “pray without ceasing,” as Paul instructs, means to “give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:16). It means that, even in making a request, we know we are already heard (Colossians 4:2)—that is, as the Latin suggests, both “listened to” and “exalted,” lifted beyond the very anxiety that led us to pray in the first place.
But then, is prayer itself not the grace it seeks? Indeed, its conditions and its fulfillment seem to be one and the same. “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them,” says Jesus (Matthew 18:20). We gather to call upon God—yet suddenly, we realize how divine this communion already is.
So if we must dare to ask (Matthew 21:22; John 16:24), it is not to possess, but because, through prayer, in prayer itself, we already possess what we ask for (1 John 5:15). The prayer Jesus teaches is full of this reality: the answer is already present within the request. Whoever desires that the Father’s name be sanctified, in doing so, sanctifies it and can rejoice. Whoever, with an attitude of Eucharistic gratitude, asks for daily bread immediately receives all the blessings of the day as gifts from the Father.
Martin Steffens teaches philosophy at a secondary school in Strasbourg (France) and is a regular contributor to La Croix.
Reproduced with permission by La Croix International.
