"Lift up your hearts." The central and most ancient part of the Eucharist (and not only the Eucharist, but other solemn services as well) begins with this rather strange exhortation. Even more if you look it up in the Bible - for in Old Testament language, having an uplifted heart meant being proud and arrogant: something to be avoided at all costs (Deut. 8:14, Ps. 131:1).
Of course the context shows us what it means. It is a call to look to heaven. It is a call to be filled with praise. It is a call to leap for joy. And the reply, "we lift them to the Lord" makes it quite clear where the praise is directed.
The prayer in which we join goes back to the earliest days of the church. As far back as the year 230, we know that Christians were using these same words (in Greek, or in their own language) to begin the central part of their Sunday worship. In the prayer of consecration, through the power of the Holy Spirit, we use God's gifts of bread and wine, and give thanks for Christ's giving of himself. The call to lift up our hearts is an introduction to that prayer - part of it, but separate from it. And this gives it its name: the Preface.
"Let us give thanks to the Lord our God", the Preface continues. Eucharistisomen to Kyrio, in Greek - we should never forget that our word "Eucharist" means thanksgiving. And we reply "It is right to give him thanks and praise."
Our older prayer books translated the same reply as "It is meet and right so to do", and in the original prayer there are indeed two adjectives: axion, meaning suitable, and dikaion, meaning just ("würdig und recht" is the traditional German translation). "Right" in English has many meanings, some deep, some shallow. Yes, it is right, because it is the right thing to do, it feels right, it fits in with our relationship with God. And, as the Preface continues, it is not only right, it is our duty and our joy.
On some days we have a special thanksgiving tucked into the middle of the Preface (it's called a Proper Preface - proper means "for that particular day"). But normally our thanks are general: for all that God has done for us. The 1980 service book provided four eucharistic prayers, and therefore four slightly different Prefaces, each recounting the work of God in creation, in redemption and in the gift of the Spirit to us, God's holy people. This is why we give thanks to God "at all times and in all places". Of course there are times when we have something special, something personal, to thank God for. But the Preface reminds us that even at the worst moments in our lives, when all seems lost, God can still be praised.
And does this to us by reminding us that we are not alone. Around us are angels and archangels, thrones and dominions, principalities and powers, cherubim and seraphim, all praising God. We should not bother about what or who these various "members of the heavenly host" are, or what they do - if we look too closely, we risk not hearing their voice! And their voice echoes the words Isaiah heard echoed in the temple (Is 6:3) - God is holy indeed.
This refrain (known as the Sanctus, from the Latin word for "holy" (in Greek it is called the "song of triumph")) almost completes the Preface. But in the oldest liturgies (and as an option in the 1980 service book), the Preface concludes with the greeting by the crowds on Palm Sunday: "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord." A trace of this remains in our own worship, for we conclude with the words, also from the crowd, "Hosanna in the highest."
Hosanna means "save us", and in singing hosanna, we are rejoicing that God in Jesus has come to set us free. In the Eucharist we are indeed liberated, and it is for this that we give God thanks. "Holy, holy, holy, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory. Hosanna in the highest."
HD