A Curious Pizza-Outing

 

This blog is under the patronage of one of my favorite saints - St. Dominic Savio; I find the brief life of this child-saint to be encouraging and hopeful.  A while ago, I wrote a short dialogue on sacred time for a friend's blog which featured this saint as one of the characters; I've re-printed it here (hopefully he won't mind).

 

A Sacred Moment At the Shot Tower

By Jude Child

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The Meeting

 

Last week, I had a problem. Although theology interests me greatly, I consider myself more of a philosopher right now. Despite that, I feel there is no topic in theology as underappreciated as “tempus sanctus” – Sacred Time. As I sat to write a treatise on this topic, though, I realized my mind was in revolt and I could think of nothing clever and original that would do the topic honor. I was rescued from this dilemma by a call from my friend, St. Dominic Savio. I casually mentioned my problem, and he said he knew just the thing: “I’ll get a couple of my friends together, and you can talk Sacred Time with them.”

I was very pleased with this news, and so I asked where we should meet them. “The usual place” my friend responded. “Pick me up at seven.”

And so at 6:55, I pulled into the parking lot of the now-unused St. Mary’s Church in Dubuque. Dominic was waiting for me (naturally, the Church is where Heaven meets Earth). He climbed in, commenting “you’ve got a new car!” I replied that he hopefully didn’t mind imports. He laughed, “I’m Italian; what do I care? Hey,” he continued, gesturing to St. Mary’s, “did you know that this church is modeled on Salzburg Cathedral?” I had to admit that I hadn’t known that, and asked if that was something you just knew when you’re in Heaven. “No,” he replied. “I read the brochure while I was waiting.”

I was about to start driving when Dominic continued “do you know how many bricks there are in this church?” I was curious why they would put that in a brochure. My friend smiled and mused “they didn’t. That’s something you just know when you’re in Heaven.”

As we drove off for the Shot Tower Pizza – where we always met our guests – I got around to asking my haloed friend exactly who the people we’d be meeting were. “Oh no,” Dominic smirked. “You know I never tell you until they get there.” Knowing how fruitless it would be to try and change the mind of a now-timeless creature, I settled for that answer and maneuvered my way through the maze of downtown Dubuque.

We were a little early when we got to Dubuque’s finest pizzeria, so Dominic and I stood in the lobby and chatted as we waited for our guests to arrive. “You probably should have worn a tie, you know,” Dominic mused as he straightened his own bow tie. I never understood why that little kid always wears a bow tie.

The host smiled and asked who I was waiting for. “Ask Dominic” I replied sarcastically.

“Who?”

Drat. I’d forgotten that my friend’s apparition appears only to those he’s supposed to interact with. I began to reply when the host’s eyes shot open. “Holy… Father!” he stuttered.

Walking through the establishment’s door at that moment was Pope Benedict XVI, followed closely by a tall Jewish gentleman that I reconized immediately as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel.

After the necessary reverences were made by Dominic and myself, the astounded host conducted us to an out-of-the-way table. It was apparent to me that he hadn’t worked here long enough to get used to the usual clientele.

I began by saying how happy I was that these two esteemed theologians on Sacred Time could be here. Rabbi Heschel thanked me, and said we may as well get right down to business. And so we began.

The Dialogue

 

Heschel leaned forward and, jabbing a finger to the table to emphasize his points, introduced the subject. “My interest in Sacred Time begins with what I believe is a fundamental fact of my religion. I say that ‘Judaism is a religion of time aiming at the sanctification of time’ and ‘Judaism teaches us to be attached to holiness in time, to be attached to sacred events, to learn how to consecrate sanctuaries that emerge from the magnificent stream of a year[1].’”

 

This right away perked my ears up; it reminded me of a similar concept in Catholicism. I said as much, and Heschel looked pleased. “Yes, I was an observer at the Second Vatican Council, and I recall that in some of the documents, the Catholic Church uses very similar language; I believe it was especially in Sacrosanctum Concilium.”

 

Dominic applied his glorified intellect “yes Rabbi: ‘The church believes that its nature requires it to celebrate the saving work of the divine Bridegroom by devoutly calling it to mind on certain days throughout the year. Every week, on the day which it has called the Lord’s Day, it commemorates the Lord’s resurrection[2].’”

 

Heschel smiled as the host approached, “yes, that’s it. Clever lad – how old are you?”

 

“One-hundred, sixty-nine.” The host stared; apparently Dominic had become visible to him as well. Dominic apologized, “Oh, but I died when I was fourteen, sir.” The host nodded dully, then took our order.

 

Heschel continued where he had left off, “in my theology, Sacred Time is the central reason for religion. Far from being only a remembrance of past events, the Sabbath especially is an entrance into the very life of God: ‘the words: ‘On the seventh day God finished His work’ (Genesis 2:2), seem to be a puzzle. Is it not said: ‘He rested on the seventh day’?… we would surely expect the Bible to tell us that on the sixth day God finished His work. Obviously, the ancient rabbis concluded, there was an act of creation on the seventh day. Just as heaven and earth were created in six days, menuha was created on the Sabbath[3].’ Menuha is something more than just rest, it represents ‘Tranquility, serenity, peace and repose… in later times menuha became a synonym for the life in the world to come, for eternal life[4].’”

Heschel paused a moment to refresh his lips, and then continued. “To enter into menuha, then, is to enter into the original entity that God sanctified: ‘it is, indeed, a unique occasion at which the distinguished word qadosh [holy] is used for the first time… ‘And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy… the sanctity of time came first, the sanctity of man came second, and the sanctity of space last.’ In fact, the Bible speaks very particularly about events in the past being lived experiences in the present: “we read in the Book of Exodus: ‘In the third month after the children of Israel were gone forth out of the land of Egypt, on this day they came into the wilderness of Sinai’ (19:1). Here was an expression that puzzled the ancient rabbis: on this day? It should have been said: on that day. This can only mean that the day of giving the Torah can never become past; that day is this day, every day[5].’ Every event of spiritual proportions is a present event to be experienced; that, my friends, is my basic theology on Sacred Time.”

 

His introduction completed, the good rabbi leaned back in his chair and folded his hands politely for the next speaker.

 

The Holy Father had listened with great interest, and at this appropriate lull, he now took the stage. “On the matter of Scared Time itself, Rabbi,” the Pontiff began with his accented English, “the Church can agree with you in almost every regard. We too have a conception of presently entering into and experiencing past events of spiritual proportions. Our distinctive difference, of course, is that our ‘events’ are primarily the events in the life of Christ. The most ‘common’ example would be our Sunday worship, which is for Christians ‘the day on which the new world began, the one on which, with Christ’s victory over death, the new creation began[6].’

 

The Holy Father paused a moment to put sugar in his coffee that had been brought to him, and Heschel took this moment to ask a question. “Holiness, I have criticized the Christians in my books for abandoning the Sabbath; with all respect – do you have any particular defense of it?”

 

The Pope looked thoughtful, and then responded, “The abandonment of Saturday worship by the infant Christian community has been for me, a particularly interesting and revealing fact. This is how I see it: ‘if we bear in mind the immense importance attached to the Sabbath in the Old Testament tradition on the basis of the Creation account and the Decalogue, then it is clear that only an event of extraordinary impact could have led to the abandonment of the Sabbath and its replacement by the first day of the week. Only an event that marked souls indelibly could bring about such a profound realignment in the religious culture of the week. Mere theological speculations could not have achieved this. For me, the celebration of the Lord’s day, which was a characteristic part of the Christian community from the outset, is one of the most convincing proofs that something extraordinary happened that day – the discovery of the empty tomb and the encounter with the risen Lord.[7]’”

 

I instantly recognized the passage; Jesus of Nazareth is my favorite book of the Pope’s, and this particular passage is one of my favorites. What a shame I hadn’t brought my copy for a signature. Dominic and Heschel looked equally impressed, but of course Heschel had to separate admiration from assent. The Pope nodded gracefully and Heschel went on, “how is it, then, that the Christian community enters into the Resurrection of Jesus?”

 

“The Sunday worship is an entering into the Resurrection of Christ, particularly through the Eucharist; “through the Eucharist, the Lord not only gives Himself to His own but also gives them the reality of a new communion among themselves which is extended in time, ‘until He comes’ (cf. 1 Cor 11:26).’ In the Catholic understanding, the Eucharist is Sacred Time meeting Sacred Space; it is an incarnational reality like that of when we believe that the transcendent God became supremely imminent by taking on human nature. In light of that understanding, St. Paul’s words “for as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until He comes” takes on a very powerful meaning. It is menuha for Christians – to have the Lord ‘enter under my roof[8]’.”

 

We lapsed into silence for a minute, each mulling over what had been said so far. Then Dominic piped up. “Of course, Sacred Time also enters into the prayers during the week for both Judaism and Catholicism right?”

 

The theologians looked at each other, and the Pope gestured for Heschel to be first.

 

“Yes, the Jewish prayers reflect the theology of Sacred Time as well. The evening prayers which we say are an easy example: ‘six evenings a week we pray: ‘Guard our going out and our coming in’; on the Sabbath evening we pray instead: ‘Embrace us with a tent of Thy peace[9].’’”

 

“And for the Church” I relayed, “the Breviary is a set of prayers for every day, and they adapt themselves the moment in Sacred Time. On Friday, for example, the last prayer is Psalm 88 – to enter into Christ’s death."

 

“Psalm 88” Heschel mused. “Certainly the darkest psalm in the psalter.”

 

“Indeed” the Pope agreed. “And Sacred Time knows no discrimination; I pray the same prayers as a seminarian does.”

 

“That would also be the reason it is against canon law to fast on a Sunday,” Dominic said. “When you’re rejoicing, it is inappropriate to fast. Sacred Time includes not just prayers, but actions.”

 

“Yes!” Heschel cried. “That is exactly right. Sacred Time is a doctrine of action, not just mental activity. It is an experience in the present: ‘the higher goal of spiritual living is not to amass a wealth of information, but to face sacred moments[10].’”

 

“And” the Pope concluded, “those sacred moments are based on the actions of God. I’ve coined the term eschatological realism: ‘it means that [Jesus’ prophecies of coming again] are not a fata morgana or some kind of fictitious utopia, but that they correspond exactly to reality. In fact, we always have to keep present in our minds the fact that he tells us with the greatest certainty ‘I will come again.’ This statement comes before everything else. This is also why the Mass was originally celebrated facing east, toward the returning Lord, who is symbolized in the rising sun. Every Mass is therefore an act of going out to meet the One who is coming. In this way, His coming is also anticipated, as it were; we go out to meet Him – and He comes, anticipatively, already now[11].’ In Christianity, past, present, and future, should begin to blur in one seamless experience of the Deity.”

Heschel nodded, “And for the Jewish theologian, ‘Jewish tradition claims that there is a hierarchy of moments within time, that all ages are not alike. Man may pray to God equally at all places, but God does not speak to man equally at all times[12].’ It is a negative way of saying that some moments are more ‘timeless’ than others.”

 

At this time, the pizza had come (I’m not sure how the restaurant had managed to make it kosher, but I ask the reader not to think too hard about that), and, our goal mostly complete, we turned our attention to other topics. When the meal was completed, we took leave of each other, and I stood in the parking lot with Dominic. I thanked him for his help again and asked him if we could do something like this more regularly. He laughed and gave me a cryptic answer which made me chuckle as well, and then he began walking and faded quickly mysterious from sight.

It always helps to know good friends.

---

[1] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1951), 8

[2] Sacrosactum Consilium, 102

[3] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath, 22

[4] Ibid, 23

[5] Ibid, 98

[6] Pope Benedict XVI, Heart of the Christian Life (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2010), 17

[7] Joseph Ratzinger, Jesus of Nazareth – Part 2 (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2011), 259

[8] The Eucharistic Preface

[9] The Sabbath, 23

[10] Ibid, 6

[11] Pope Benedict XVI, Light of the World (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2010), 80

[12] Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Sabbath, 98

Sacred Time in Sacred Music

The Liturgy of the Hours is a set of ritual prayers in the Catholic Church that contains seven sets of prayers for each day.  The prayers appropriately reflect the liturgical seasons, and so they are a great example of the Catholic understanding of Sacred Time; we live and pray the events of salvation in the time we now live.  One of my favorite hymns from the Evening Prayer of the Liturgy of the Hours is "Now Fades All Earthly Splendor."  In this hymn, the sun's descent is taken to be a poetic foreshadow of the end of creation ("The dying of the daylight fortells creation's end"), while the knowledge of its eventual rising the next day is a sign of the sure and certain hope of the Christian that Christ will return, and out of darkness will come a Great Light ("So will the new creation
Rise from the old reborn, to splendor in Christ's glory and everlasting morn").

By singing this hymn, we proclaim the truths of our faith, not only with our voices and minds, but also our very existence in time.  It would make no sense to sing this song in the morning; it is in the evening that we, through this song, enter into and experience future times in our own time.  The passage of the sun reminds us of the mortality of all of creation, and moves us to prayer reflecting on the end of our own lives.  We do not fear the descent of the Sun, because we know that the Son will rise again; it is then that "All darkness will be ended as faith gives place to sight of Father, Son, and Spirit, one God in Heaven's Light."

Now fades all earthly splendor,
The shades of night descend;
The dying of the daylight
Foretells creation's end.
Though noon gives place to sunset,
Yet dark gives place to light:
The promise of tomorrow
With dawn's new hope is bright.

The silver notes of morning
Will greet the rising sun,
As once the Easter glory
Shone round the Risen One.
So will the night of dying
Give peace to heaven's day,
And hope of heaven's vision
Will light our pilgrim way.

So will the new creation
Rise from the old reborn
To splendor in Christ's glory
And everlasting morn.
All darkness will be ended
As faith gives place to sight
Of Father, Son and Spirit,
One God, in heaven's light.

 

 

Friday Fasts and Such

On the Friday before Easter (Good Friday), the Catholic Church publically observes the death of Jesus on the Cross.  It is because of this Friday observance that the Church gives special significance to every Friday; it is as if every Friday is a "Little Good Friday."

Each Friday, the Catholic is invited to enter into the mystery of the death of Christ by giving something up, and thereby to unite their own little "suffering" to the suffering of Christ. In the United States, the bishops have allowed Catholics to choose what they are to give up, but the bishops of the United Kingdom have again mandated traditional abstinence from meat on all Fridays.  When the person abstains or fasts on Friday, he or she is following in the footsteps of St. Paul, who wrote "in my flesh I am filling up what is lacking in the afflictions of Christ on behalf of His body, which is the Church" (Colossians 1:24).  Not, of course, that Jesus' suffering "isn't enough," but by abstaining from something that the person regularly enjoys, he or she is engaging in a prayer that is prayed by the person's whole being: body, and soul.  When fasting or abstaining, the person enters the Cathedral of Time; if the person stops overtly praying and goes on to other things, his or her body will continue to pray because of the union of the minor sufferings with the suffering of Christ.  The entire day, then, will be filled with a deep and meaningful prayer, where body and soul continue to cry out "Hear the voice of my pleading as I call for help, as I life up my hands in prayer to your holy place" (Psalm 28:3). 

That is the beauty of fasting and abstinence; it is a personal and powerful encounter with the sufferings of Christ.  The United States Bishops have recently called faithful Catholics to pray in a special way for Life, Marriage, and Religious Liberty, and one thing they recommend is that Catholics voluntarily abstain from meat or fast on Fridays.  This is a terrific opportunity to begin a regular observence of "Little Good Fridays" throughout the year.  The doors of the Cathedral of Time are open.

Mary, and the Crown of Virginity

In Time's Cathedral today marks the end of the Western Church's celebration of Christmas, culminating in the celebration of the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.  This is a perfect time to consider one of Mary most defining attributes: her miraculous virginity.

Virginity is prized in the Church; that is common knowledge.  If we ask the average person, though, they might be hard pressed to explain why, precisely, that might be; one reason can be found with Mary.  First, I'll have to go on a brief detour: Mary is proclaimed to the world as the Mother of God, because in her womb she conceived Jesus who is God; some come back with "but she only conceived Jesus' human nature, right???"  That would be a good objection, if mothers were mothers of natures instead of persons; but my mother happens to be the mother of my person, not my nature; I don't say "hi mother-of-my-human-nature!"  Mary is the Mother of the Person whom we call "Jesus Christ."  This person happens to be both God and man; this means that we can call Mary the Mother of a man, and the Mother of a God.  Since there is but one God, we simplify it to: Mary is "Mother of God."

With that out of the way, consider Mary's carrying of the Christ-child.  This is not an ordinary pregancy; she is carrying God Himself within her womb.  Christians like to talk about "carrying Christ within me," but they mean it figuratively (though not unrealistically).  Well, here we have the most perfect sign that could ever be of "carrying Christ within me."  Jesus is actually, substantially, and physically present within the womb of the Blessed Virgin.  We are specifically told, in Matthew, that Mary is a virgin and remains so throughout the time she carries Christ: "His Mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph... she was found with child throught the Holy Spirit... [Joseph] had no relations with her until she bore a son, and he named him Jesus" (Mt. 1:18, 25).  The virginity of Mary is a sign; it is a sign of bringing Christ into the world.  Because of the time that she carried the Christ, Mary is the archfigure of the Christian; the figurative "carrying Christ within" and "bringing Christ to others" finds it image and meaning in Mary's own "carrying Christ within."

Early on, women's monastic communities understood their virginity as a "sign of a sign."  Mary's carrying of the Christ is the sign; the sign of carrying Christ within.  By their virginity, then, the nuns become like Mary - it's as though they are carrying Christ themselves.  The Fourth-century St. Cyril of Jerusalem understood this when he wrote, speaking of an Order of Virgins: "Let the Lord born of the Virgin be worshiped, and let the virgins recognize the crown of their own state... the virgins have their portion with Mary the Virgin" (Catecheses, XII, 33-34).  The "Lord born of the Virgin" is, of course, Christ; the crown of the virgin state is Mary, whom the virgins "have their portion" with; they have become signs of the Sign of carrying Christ within.

Consecrated virginity, then, is first of all a sign of carrying Christ within; it is an especially strong sign for women religious.  Many religious communities to this day retain a sense in which the nun is "espoused" to the Holy Spirit, as Mary was through the begetting of the Christ.  It is as if they are carrying inside of themselves the Christ, just as Mary did.  It is because of the glory of the Crown of Virginity that the Church so highly esteems chastity and virginity, and it is because of Mary's blessed virgin motherhood that we honor her as First-of-Saints and as Mother of God.

Sanctus: Praying with the Angels

The main point of this post is this: In the Mass, we join the angels in proclaiming Christ's coming.

The Mass is divided into two parts: the Liturgy of the Word, focused on readings from Scripture; and the Liturgy of the Eucharist, focused on the re-presentation of Christ's Sacrifice for our sins which was made "once for all."

Near the beginning of the Liturgy of the Eucharist, the priest invites us to pray a very old prayer: the Sanctus.  In his invitation, the priest says "and so with all the choirs of angels and saints, we join their unending hymn of praise."  After that, we respond with "Holy, Holy, Holy Lord, God of Hosts.  Heaven and Earth are full of your glory; Hosanna in the highest.  Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord; Hosanna in the highest."

These words are the words of the angels, which we now take as part of our own prayer.  In the  Book of Isaiah, chapter 6, the Seraphim (the highest angels) sing in the court of Heaven "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of Hosts!" (v. 3).   The angels sing this song perpetually: "one to the other" (cont. v. 3).  And they sing as the prophet Issiah is called to prophetic ministry, and sent out to the people of Israel: "Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying 'Whom shall I send?  Who will go for us?' 'Here I am;' I said; 'send me!'" (v. 8-9).  After this comes an ancient prophecy of Christ's coming: "the virgin shall be with child, and bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel" (7:14).

Just as the Seraphim in Heaven perpetually sing the Santus, proclaiming the Lord's coming and reign outside of time - we too, proclaim His coming and reign in time.  In the Mass, Heaven and Earth unite and sing in unison the praises of God, our Lord and Father.  The Sanctus, then, is a moment in time where we experience a bit of the eternal; it is Sacred Time.

"Blessed is He who comes in the Name of the Lord." Amen.

The Crucifix - A Sign of Unity

Every Catholic Church must have a crucifix - there are no "normal exceptions."  Sure, the "but what if..." person can come up with some emergency, probably involving a daring secret Mass while ducking Nazi guards, where a Mass must be said without a crucifix because there is not one present.  Under normal circumstances, though, if there's a Mass, there is a crucifix.

Obviously, the crucifix reminds us of the Sacrifice of Christ on Calvary, from which Our Gracious Lord gave His life "that the world might be saved through Him" (Jn. 3:17).  While being a sign of a convicted criminal, the Cross is, paradoxically, an acclaimation of Christ's Lordship over the people He has redeemed.  After all, Pilate did write the proclaimation: "This is Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews."  That proclaimation is quite true, but now the plan of salvation includes both Jews and Gentiles.  Christ rules from the Cross; our crucified and yet eternal Lord.

But we do not hang the crucifix in the Church only to remember the sacrifice of Christ which happened once for all 2000 years ago.  This blog is primarily concerned with Sacred Time, and Sacred Time is the belief that the events that are relevant to our salvation are not just events in the past to be remembered, but active times that are experienced sacramentally now.  The Mass is the re-presentation of Christ's eternal sacrifice to the Father, in expiation for our sins.  It is one, single sacrifice: "this One [Jesus] offered one sacrifice for sins, and took His seat forever at the right hand of God" (Heb. 10:12). The effective sign of this sacrificial covenant is Christ's body and blood in the Eucharist:  "This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you" (Lk. 22:20). Itaque, the Mass is not a new sacrifice; it is the same one sacrifice of Christ which was offered 2000 years ago, but now we experience it in our own times; that is the reason that Christ ordered His Apostles - the first bishops - to "do this in memory of me" (22:19).  The One Sacrifice of Christ is re-presented to the Father through the ministry of the priest, who acts in the person of Christ Himself.  The Body and blood of the Lord is present in the Eucharist in the very same way as it was present as Christ hung on the Cross: "Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord" (1 Cor. 11:27).

What is the point of all of this?  The Mass is a re-presentation of the One Sacrifice of Christ.  The One Sacrifice of Christ was accomplished on the Cross. And so, we hang a crucifix in the Church to remind us that we are right at this moment experiencing that One Sacrifice which was accomplished on the Cross.  It is as though we were standing with St. John and the Blessed Mother at the foot of Jesus' Cross, and have heard Him say the words "It is finished." The crucifix is there to help us to enter into the mystery that we are experiencing; it should give us hope, and make us slightly reproachful for our sins.  I've always liked and feared the words of Saint Francis of Assisi: "It was not the Jew, nor the Roman who killed Christ.  It was you."  Our Lord is good and forgiving, full of love to all who call  - as the Psalmist says.  He will heal us; we just need to enter into His Sacrifice.

The Crucifix reminds us of Sacred Time.  We do not just remember Christ's sacrifice; we experience it now.  Ergo, the Crucifix is a sign of unity; a sign of the unity of today's Mass with the One Sacrifice of Christ, and with all the Masses throughout time.

The Sacred Time of Sunday

Today is the Twenty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time.
One of the precepts of the Church is to attend Mass on all Sundays and Holy Days; many people see this as a burden - and an irrelevant one at that.  Hence, they believe that they need not go to Mass on all Sundays.  But they are missing the great, sublime mystery that is inherent in the celebration of Sunday Mass.

Against such people, many amateur apologists will say something like "can't we give the Lord one hour out of all the one-hundred, sixty-eight that there are in a week?"  They mean well, and are correct in their intention.  Before His death, Our Lord was in pain in the garden as He meditated on what was to come - but His closest friends fell asleep, oblivious to His suffering.  In this pain, then, He sadly declared "so you could not keep watch with me for one hour?" (Mt. 26:40).  The analogy is that by willfully refusing to go to Mass, we are disregarding the desires of the Lord.

The above is true, but incomplete.  After all, the person who believes that going to Mass is unnecessary may very well "keep an hour with the Lord" on his or her own; the point is not the time spent in prayer, but rather the dynamism of a concept called "Sacred Time."

In the Catholic Church, our celebrations are at the intersection of two important concepts; Sacred Space, and Sacred Time.  Sacred Space is pretty easy to understand.  While God is everywhere, He is specially present in certain ways such as in the Eucharist.  Since the Eucharist is a physical presence of the Body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ our Almighty God, it makes sense that we would call the sanctuary of the Church a "Sacred Space."

Sacred Time is more elusive, but even more beautiful than Sacred Space.  Sacred Time is a mystical reality where we as the People of God do not just look back on events in the life of Christ and think "well, that's a nice thing that happened so long ago;" instead we actively and sacramentally enter into the events in the life of Christ and in the history of Salvation.  Sacred Time is a belief that, just as God is specially present in certain places (the Church, the words of Scripture, the Eucharist, etc.), He is also specially present in certain times. 

In the Mass, we enter into Sacred Time by becoming united to the "little Easter" - the weekly commemoration of the Resurrection of Jesus.  Sunday was, of course, the day that Christ rose from the dead; well, we do not just passively remember that Christ rose from the dead (like we'd somehow forget); rather, we actively enter into the mystery of His Resurrection by taking the Resurrected Flesh of Jesus in the Mass.  Jesus is present in the same way in the Eucharist as He was to Mary Magdalene at the side of His tomb, and He graciously comes into our bodies and souls; marking us for Heaven, and giving life to our souls which had previously been dead in sin.  In a sense, we rise with Christ every time that we go to Mass, particularly Sunday Mass, and rising with Christ is our salvation: "you were buried with [Christ] in baptism, in which you were also raised with Him through faith in the power of God, who raised Him from the dead" (Col 2:12).   When Jesus said: "Take and eat; this is my body" (Mt. 26:26), He was not just saying it to the Apostles; if He were, then why is it important enough to include in the Gospels? By partaking of the Eucharist, we enter into the mystery of the Last Supper, and take that Body which Christ says "is tue food, and my blood is true drink" (Jn. 6:55). The same Body that was given at the Last Supper is given also to us, and the words of Christ to the Apostles are the words of Christ to us.  And we experience them actively every Sunday, when the Church enters into the Mystery.

By attending Mass, then, we're actively living past, present, and future in the mystery of Sacred Time.  We come to the altar as the table of the Last Supper, and become united in One Body not just with all Catholics throughout the world, but all Catholics throughout time.  The Apostles, martyrs, and our blessed ancestors, as well as our friends and neighbors all united through a mystical union. That is the past and present aspects of the Eucharist, but there is also a "future" aspect.  By participating in the Mass, we look forward to the Wedding Feast of the Lamb, described in the Book of Revelation.  In this feast, the Church as the Bride of Christ celebrates with her children forever in Heaven.  Therefore, the Eucharist is a fore-shadowing of the blessed celebration of Heaven.  In his book "Light of the World," Pope Benedict XVI says "The Mass was originally celebrated facing east, toward the returning Lord, who is symbolized in the rising sun.  Every Mass is therefore an act of going out to meet the One who is coming" (180).

Itaque, we must go to Sunday Mass - not because it is a dutiful requirement, but because we must "go out to meet the Lord."  Meeting Him in the Mass we are united to the mystery of Christ's dying, and then we rise with Him again; it is much more powerful and sublime then just spending some time in private prayer.  To willfully refuse to go is to ignore the powerful reality of Jesus' Resurrection - which is an event which must be experienced sacramentally in our own lives in a great Catheral of Time. That is why the Church requires attendence at Mass on Sundays; we need to experience the events of our Salvation.  Christ is the Light of the world; let us let Him enlighten our souls and raise us up from our spiritual sicknesses.