Last week we looked at the longest Eucharistic Prayer (The Roman Canon) and this week we will look at the shortest Eucharistic Prayer (Eucharistic Prayer II). As I have mentioned the past couple of sessions of our Catholic Massterclass, there is controversy over the reality of options for the Eucharistic Prayer. Nonetheless, we have a variety and each of them has unique characteristics and often rich imagery in the prayers. Here are some unique characteristics of Eucharistic Prayer II (EPII):

The first unique feature of Eucharistic Prayer II is that it includes its own proper Preface, though it may also be used with other Prefaces from the Roman Missal. It is Trinitarian in its emphasis and has strong connections with a very early version of the Eucharistic Prayer used during Mass in the early Church.

As I mentioned, EPII is the briefest of all of the Eucharistic Prayers and appears best suited for weekday Masses, although it can also be used on Sundays and Holy Days. One of the reasons for this is the mention of the dewfall during the epiclesis: “Make holy…these gifts…by sending down your Spirit upon them like the dewfall…” This is a strong reference to the miraculous bread from Heaven that came to the people in the desert by way of the morning dew bringing the manna on the ground each morning. Those who attend Mass during the week are coming to receive their daily miraculous Bread from Heaven.

One more unique characteristic of EPII that I will mention comes toward the end of the Prayer and sounds a little awkward: “Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection, and all who have died in your mercy: welcome them into the light of your face.” Where does that line come from? What does that mean? There are several references in the Old Testament, especially in the Psalms, that refer to God shining the light of His face upon those He wishes to care for and save. When we pray that the dead be welcomed into ‘the light of God’s face,’ we are asking that they be brought into God’s saving presence—what Scripture describes as seeing God face to face, which is Heaven itself. Beautiful!

A very neat fact about Eucharistic Prayer II is that the entire prayer has connections with the worship of the early Church. St. Hippolytus lived during the 3rd century - 1800 years ago - and he wrote out the prayer used during the consecration of the Holy Eucharist when people gathered for worship, and it is remarkably similar to Eucharistic Prayer II. While scholars debate details of its exact authorship and use, the Church sees in it a trustworthy witness to very early Eucharistic prayer. You could search online for “Eucharistic Prayer from St. Hippolytus” to see what I mean. Though the prayer fell out of use over time, the Church has endorsed a return to it as we worship God and seek his daily miraculous Bread from Heaven.

We’ll spend the next four weeks looking at each of the primary Eucharistic Prayers provided by the Church in the Roman Missal. The first one - Eucharistic Prayer I or the Roman Canon - is the longest and most connected to history. Many of us are aware that the look and sound of Mass was changed in the 1960s, going from Latin to the vernacular language of any given place. In the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM), there was one Eucharistic Prayer that was prayed at each and every Mass. If you were to translate that one Eucharistic Prayer into English, you would end up with something very similar to Eucharistic Prayer I. It’s not an exact match, but it’s very close. Because of that, we can be confident in saying that the Roman Canon is a prayer that has been present at Mass for centuries and has provided the structure of the Eucharistic Sacrifice for countless saints, missionaries, martyrs, and faithful people of God.

There are some unique features of the Roman Canon that make it stand out compared to the other three.

There are two long lists of saints included in the Roman Canon, including all of the Apostles, a few of the earliest popes, and other men and women from the early Church. Here we are reminded of those who have laid a firm foundation of faith for us and who still cheer us on as we strive to enter through the narrow door. These members of the Church Triumphant become present to us, the Church Militant, in the Heavenly worship of Holy Mass.

There are several mentions of sacrificial images, including some from the Bible. The sacrifice of Abel, whose offering of his first fruits was pleasing to God, the sacrifice of Abraham, willing to offer his only son Isaac as a sacrifice (though, of course, we know the Lord prevented him from actually carrying out the sacrifice), and the offering of bread and wine by Melchizedek provide the perfect foreshadowing of the Sacrifice of Jesus on the Cross and in the Eucharist, the firstborn and only beloved Son of the Father offered for our salvation, made present here in the form of bread and wine. The words of the Roman Canon remind us that the Eucharistic Sacrifice—Christ’s one saving sacrifice made present—is the necessary and pleasing offering through which God applies the grace that saves us from eternal damnation. The Roman Canon is not concerned with explaining the Mass to us; it is concerned with offering the sacrifice to God.

Another unique feature comes in the wording leading up to the Words of Consecration. The priest says and enacts what Jesus did at the Last Supper. Jesus “raised his eyes to Heaven” and the priest is instructed to look upward. Jesus “took this precious chalice in his holy and venerable hands” and the priest is instructed to pick up the chalice. It’s interesting it says, “this precious chalice,” reminding us that there is a mystical reality at work that we can’t see, as though the chalice the priest is using is drawn into and participates in the mystery of the very chalice used by Christ at the Last Supper.

There are more unique features to mention, but the last one I’ll mention here are the two moments when the priest pauses his prayers to silently pray for the living and the dead, reminding us all that we are there to offer the Mass for those present, but also for those who are not present at the Sacrifice. We pray that, somehow, God may receive the Sacrifice of the Mass and supply grace for those who are not yet convicted by faith to be present and for those who have passed before us and need our prayers to assist them into Heaven. So, always come to Mass with some prayer intention(s) and hold them in mind during the Eucharistic Prayer.

The Roman Canon is a beautiful Eucharistic Prayer! Unfortunately, because of all of these unique features, it is much longer than the others and the length often deters priests from using it. Many people have expectations of a brief, efficient Mass. In the case of this parish cluster, our Mass schedule is pretty tight, so time is a prized commodity. What’s more, the current pastor can’t figure out how to preach shorter homilies. 🙂 Maybe we can switch out our expectations (and maybe the pastor can learn to preach shorter homilies), so we can fully embrace and even grow to love the longer Eucharistic Prayer.

Next week, we’ll look at Eucharistic Prayer II, the shortest of them all.

After the Holy, Holy, Holy (the Sanctus), the Mass enters its most sacred moment: the Eucharistic Prayer. Everything we have done so far has been leading to this prayer, and everything that follows flows from it. This is the prayer in which Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross is made present to us sacramentally. Although there are several Eucharistic Prayers, they all share the same essential structure. Understanding these common parts helps us recognize that we are participating in one great act of worship, not a series of separate prayers.

The Eucharistic Prayer is always directed to God the Father.

The priest does not pray to the congregation or about God, but on behalf of the Church, to the Father, through Jesus Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit. This prayer reveals the deeply Trinitarian nature of the Mass.

The Eucharistic Prayer begins by continuing the spirit of the Preface and the Sanctus: giving thanks to God for His saving works.

The word Eucharist itself means thanksgiving. Before anything is offered, the Church first acknowledges who God is and what He has done.

In every Eucharistic Prayer, the priest invokes the Holy Spirit upon the bread and wine. This is called the epiclesis.

Just as the Spirit hovered over the waters at creation and overshadowed Mary at the Annunciation, the Spirit now descends to bring about God’s saving action. The transformation of the gifts is not magic—it is the work of God.

The priest then recounts the words and actions of Jesus at the Last Supper.

These are not merely remembered or reenacted. When the priest speaks Christ’s words, Christ Himself acts through the priest. The bread and wine truly become the Body and Blood of Jesus, making present the one sacrifice of Calvary.

After the consecration, the Church proclaims the Mystery of Faith.

In Scripture, “remembering” does not mean recalling something from the past. It means making it present. The Church now stands mystically at the Cross, the Tomb, and the Resurrection, united to Christ’s saving work.

The Church then offers to the Father: Christ Himself, the Sacrifice He has entrusted to the Church, and Herself, united to Him. We do not offer a new sacrifice, but participate in Christ’s one eternal offering. Our prayers, sufferings, and lives are drawn into His perfect gift to the Father.

The Eucharistic Prayer always includes prayers for the Church on earth, for the living and the dead, offered in union with the Saints in Heaven. This shows that the Mass is never private or individual. It is cosmic in scope, uniting heaven and earth, the living and the dead, into one act of worship.

We conclude with the Doxology: “Through Him and with Him and in Him…” All glory is given to the Father, through Christ, in the Holy Spirit.

The people respond with the Great Amen, affirming and embracing everything that has just taken place. This is not a routine response—it is the people’s solemn assent to the sacrifice offered in their name.

The Holy, Holy, Holy—the Sanctus—comes directly from Sacred Scripture. In Isaiah 6, the prophet hears the seraphim crying out “Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts,” and in Revelation the same hymn resounds in the worship of heaven. This is the song of heaven itself. When we sing it at Mass, we are not merely recalling a biblical moment—we are entering into heavenly worship. The liturgy lifts us beyond time and space and unites us to what is always happening before the throne of God.

Immediately after this hymn, we kneel. That posture is not accidental. In the Gospels, kneeling is one of the most common responses when people come to recognize the divinity of Jesus—whether in awe, supplication, or worship. We kneel because something infinitely greater than a symbol is about to take place. The same Jesus who is worshiped in heaven is about to become sacramentally present on the altar. Our bodies confess what our voices have just proclaimed: God is here.

By the fourth century, Christians in both East and West were already singing the Holy, Holy, Holy during the Eucharistic Prayer—clear evidence that the Church from her earliest centuries understood the Mass as a participation in the worship of heaven. To call God the “Lord of hosts” is to confess that the Mass is never a private gathering. Every time we worship, we stand before the God who commands the armies of heaven—and they worship with us.

Once the gifts are prepared, the priest prays the Prayer over the Offerings. This prayer does not consecrate the gifts; rather, it formally offers them to God and asks Him to receive and sanctify what has been placed on the altar. This reflects a basic rule of biblical worship: offerings are never simply placed before God—they are named, offered, and prayed over.

In the Temple worship, the priest did not improvise a new meaning for the gifts; he asked God to accept what He Himself had commanded. The Church does the same. The Prayer over the Offerings acknowledges that what lies on the altar is about to be taken up into Christ’s one sacrifice.

Historically, such a prayer has always been part of the Mass. In the Roman tradition it was called the Oratio super oblata (“the prayer over the things offered”). While the wording and number of offertory prayers have developed over time, the act of praying over the offerings has never disappeared—because sacrifice always demands prayerful offering.

Immediately after the Prayer over the Offerings, the priest begins the Preface Dialogue: “The Lord be with you. (And with your spirit.) Lift up your hearts. (We lift them up to the Lord.) Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. (It is right and just.)” In this dialogue, we are preparing to take part in the Eucharistic sacrifice by calling upon the Lord’s presence, lifting our hearts above earthly concerns, and giving thanks to God for what He has given us. I’ve mentioned this before, but the Greek word eucharistia means “thanksgiving”. We give thanks by entering into the thanksgiving sacrifice Jesus has commanded.

Next comes the Preface, which is a solemn, public act of thanksgiving directed to God prior to entering into the Eucharistic Prayer. There are several Prefaces in the Roman Missal, some specifically for each season of the liturgical year, others for particular categories of saints, and still more for other various categories. If you listen to the words of the Preface, you’ll notice that there is a basic structure to each one. It begins with properly acknowledging that we owe our gratitude to God as an obligation of duty (“our duty and our salvation…”). Next, there is some attribute or reason given for why He is worthy of our praise and thanksgiving. Finally, we acknowledge that we are joining with all of the saints in heaven in giving thanks and adoration to Him. (More on this final stage next week.)

Every Sunday, after the General Intercessions, something quiet but deeply meaningful happens: the Offertory. Bread and wine are brought forward either by the people or by the servers, a song is sung, and the priest begins a series of prayers at the altar. As usual, there is a nice connection with Old Testament worship that has been brought up through Christian history.

In the Temple, God commanded Israel to bring their gifts forward before the sacrifice was offered (see Lev 1; Lev 2; Deut 26). The people approached with their offerings—animals, grain, bread, wine—and placed them into the hands of the priests. Worship always began with the faithful giving something that would be taken up into the sacrifice itself. The Church continues that ancient pattern. Because the Eucharist is a true sacrifice, we too have a moment of presenting gifts to God.

The essential gifts of the Offertory are bread and wine, because they will become the Body and Blood of Christ. In most parishes you’ll also see the collection brought forward, although this is not necessary. These gifts represent the sacrifice that we all bring, which include more than the bread and wine. Our labors, joys, sorrows, and even our entire lives are spiritually placed upon the altar as a sacrifice. This is mentioned by the priest, “Pray, brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God our almighty Father.” The sacrifice of the priest is the bread and wine, which will become the Body and Blood of Christ, while your sacrifice is the life that you bring to worship.

In the Jerusalem Temple, the Levites sang psalms while the people brought up their gifts. The singing accompanied the action and lifted the hearts of the worshippers. The Church has always done the same. While the people sing, the priest quietly begins the Preparation of the Gifts. His prayers explain why this moment matters. “Blessed are you, Lord God of all creation, for through your goodness we have received the bread we offer you, fruit of the earth and work of human hands, it will become for us the Bread of Life ... .the wine we offer you…it will become our spiritual drink.” These beautiful words come from ancient Jewish blessing prayers. They acknowledge that the bread and wine are God’s gifts to us—and now we return them so He may transform them into Christ’s Body and Blood. While he is preparing the wine, you’ve probably noticed the priest pouring a drop of water into it. “By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity.” The tiny drop of water represents us. The wine represents Christ. Mixed together, they become inseparable. This symbolizes our union with Jesus in His self-offering to the Father. Again, our own sacrifices are united to the sacrifice of the Eucharist.

Incense (when used) shows that our prayer rises to God and that the gifts are set apart for something holy. The washing of hands is a sign of interior purification: the priest prepares his heart to enter the Eucharistic Prayer. He quietly says, “Wash me, O Lord, from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sins.” This is a direct quote from Psalm 51:2, expressing a desire for interior purification before offering the sacrifice.

The Offertory is not “intermission.” It is the moment when the Church gathers everything we are and everything God has given us, and places it on the altar. Bread and wine will soon become Christ Himself. But first we offer them—and with them, we offer ourselves. In the Offertory, we do what God’s people have always done: We bring our gifts, we lift our hearts, and we ask God to make our offering holy.

After the homily each Sunday, we stand and offer the Prayers of the Faithful, sometimes called the Universal Prayer or General Intercessions. Many people wonder: Why do we do this? Is this a recent addition to the Mass?

While the form we use today was restored after the Second Vatican Council, the practice itself goes back to the earliest Christian communities. Around the year 155, St. Justin Martyr described the Sunday Eucharistic gathering and noted that after the readings and the homily, “we all rise together and offer prayers” for various needs. These prayers were offered publicly and responded to by the faithful—much like what we do now. Over the centuries this element faded from the Roman Rite, though it remained in many Eastern liturgies. Vatican II did not create something new, but restored an ancient practice so the Church today could once again benefit from it.

The restored practice has a very specific purpose: to allow the baptized to exercise their priestly role by interceding for the needs of the Church and the world. After hearing God’s Word and responding to it through the homily, the faithful stand and offer petitions that arise from the needs of the community and the entire human family. The Church intentionally places these intercessions at the hinge between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. We have listened to God speak; now we speak to God on behalf of others. This public intercession fulfills the exhortation of St. Paul, who urged believers “to make supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings for all people” (1 Tim 2:1). It is the moment when the spiritual priesthood of the baptized becomes audible in the liturgy.

The Church does not give an official fixed list of intentions, because the needs of the world and the local community shift from week to week. However, the General Instruction of the Roman Missal (GIRM 70) gives a stable structure that guides how these intercessions should be composed. Normally, four categories are included:

1. Prayers for the Church (For the Pope, bishops, clergy, the holiness of the faithful, vocations, and the mission of the Church.)
2. Prayers for the world and those in authority (For peace, justice, good governance, the protection of the vulnerable, and the welfare of all peoples.)
3. Prayers for those who suffer (For the sick, the poor, the oppressed, the grieving, those facing temptation or crisis, and all who carry heavy burdens.)
4. Prayers for the local community (For the parish, upcoming sacraments, local needs, and anniversaries or events affecting the people gathered.)

The Prayers of the Faithful are not simply practical announcements or a moment to shift our posture. They are the Church at prayer: the Body of Christ petitioning the Father for the needs of humanity. When we respond, “Lord, hear our prayer,” we join our voices to Christ, the one true intercessor, who constantly prays for the Church.

Each Sunday, after listening to God’s Word, the Church stands and professes the Creed. It can be easy to treat this moment as routine, something said simply because it is “what Catholics do.” But in reality, the Creed is an important moment in the liturgy. It expresses who God is, what He has done, and what we believe as His people—so that we may worship Him rightly.

Throughout Scripture, God consistently teaches that true worship is founded on truth. Israel was commanded to remember who God is and what He had done for them. Their most important statement of faith, the Shema—“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord is one” (Deut 6:4)—was recited daily. It was not a theological list, but it functioned as a proclamation of identity and fidelity: We belong to the one true God. In Christian worship, the Creed fulfills and expands this purpose. Because we have received the fullness of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ, the People of God profess not only the unity of God, but the mystery of the Trinity, the Incarnation, the Paschal Mystery, and the life of the world to come. The Creed ensures that our worship is not vague or generic, but intentionally Christian. Before we approach the altar, we publicly profess the faith of the Church so that we may offer the Eucharistic sacrifice with hearts and minds aligned to the truth.

A little background. In the earliest centuries, creeds existed primarily in the context of baptism. Before entering the Church, catechumens professed their belief in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. These baptismal formulas eventually developed into what we now call the Apostles’ Creed (this is the one recited at the beginning of the rosary). The Nicene Creed we recite on Sundays comes from two ecumenical councils—Nicaea (325) and Constantinople (381)—which the Church convened to clarify the divinity of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Heresies had arisen that denied Christ’s full divinity, and the Church responded by handing on a clear, authoritative summary of the apostolic faith: Jesus is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God.” The Creed was not originally part of the Mass, but it gradually entered the liturgy as a safeguard of orthodoxy.

The Church continues to profess the Creed during Mass because it performs several essential functions:

1. It unites us to the universal Church. Every Catholic around the world professes the same faith. When we speak the Creed, we stand in solidarity with believers across continents and centuries.
2. It protects the truth of the Gospel. The Creed anchors us in the apostolic faith, guarding us from misunderstandings, errors, and the temptation to recreate God according to our own preferences.
3. It helps to form our minds. The Creed is not only something we say—it is something that shapes us. Each profession deepens our identity as disciples of Jesus and members of His Body.
4. It connects us to the ancient practice of declaring who God is. Just as Israel regularly proclaimed that they worshiped the LORD and no other, we too declare whom we worship—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—to the exclusion of every false god.

We profess the Creed during Mass because worship and belief are inseparable. To worship God rightly, we must know who He is. The Creed is the Church’s weekly act of remembering, proclaiming, and celebrating the truth God has revealed. Standing together, we confess our faith so that we may offer ourselves—and the Eucharistic sacrifice—with hearts firmly rooted in the one true God who saves.