Supernatural CPR: An Anamnestic View into the Meaning of Christ's Final Breath

         The classic Christian text from antiquity, apart from the Holy Gospels themselves, of course, which govern the religious order to which I am spiritually-affiliated is known as “The Rule of St. Benedict.” Written by St. Benedict of Nursia himself in the early 6^th century, it was intended originally as a guidebook for monks who would join his order and commit themselves to a life of prayer and work within his monasteries. Since then, “The Rule,” (as we refer to it, colloquially) has served to guide more than mere monastics, but even lay persons like myself. Not a tedious, difficult, or lengthy work at all, the brief “Rule” is filled with a plethora of practical and spiritual wisdom, advice, and counsel conducive to furthering in depth and richness, a personal relationship with the very object of our imitation and devotion as Christian persons: He who is Christ, the forever-living and reigning King of All that exists.

Embracing the Fear

            One particular passage from “The Rule” advises the faithful “to keep death daily before one’s eyes” (RB 4:47). For many – myself included – this advice from St. Benedict may seem “gloomy” at best; perhaps even, “morbid.” Frankly, it is my least favorite portion of the entire text. I have always feared death – still do, if I am being honest. Likely, my own fear comes from early childhood and my own confrontation with the very possibility thereof as I faced leukemia. But, I digress. For as much as I still find it difficult to read and prayerfully contemplate over this guidance, I realize his intention is for a greater good – not to evoke fear. Nevertheless, before ever becoming spiritually-affiliated with the Benedictine order as a lay member (known as an “Oblate”), I was responsible for undertaking an entire year of studying, in-depth, “The Rule” and praying daily with its wisdom. Only recently had I found a way to “sit comfortably” with this passage. This realization itself will be the subject of this article going forward.

            Though I fear death, I do so because I fear the unknown. It would be of such comfort to me if only I knew what came next. Do I believe I will one day forever live as an heir to Jesus’ own Kingdom where Love reigns supreme and where all sorrow is ever-silenced? Yes, I do. I have this faith. But, faith in and of itself is not certainty. I have my own doubts. And… for what it’s worth, I don’t know if I would be an authentic Christian (or an authentic person, for that matter) if I didn’t admit that while I have faith, I do have fear. The two CAN absolutely exist in tandem. Sacred Scripture reminds us: “There is no fear in love because perfect love drives fear away” (1 John 4:18); this I know. In fact, a brilliant and wise mentor-professor – now dear friend – of mine always used to advise me in this regard, saying, “I know that you know this, but there is a vast chasm of difference between knowing and believing.” So, while I do believe – my belief is not yet perfect because my Love is also not yet perfect. I am convinced that only permanently before the face of Love Himself will the weakness and insecurity of our human fears ever fully fade away. One of my favorite ejaculatory prayers, even to this day, remains to be: “Lord, I do believe. Heal, therefore, my unbelief!”

Facing the Fear

            All that said, the greatest comfort of all for those of us who have faith, who hope, and who do our best to love (though none of these ever perfectly on this side of eternity), yet, who still perhaps some fears about what comes after this earthly journey concludes comes in the death of death itself. Indeed, by Christ’s own death some two-thousands plus years ago, we became much MORE than witnesses to death’s destruction, but co-heirs in the conquering over it. By Christ’s own Resurrection, we saw Him glorified and exalted. We saw Him Who not only stood toe-to-toe with evil and death itself, but Who laughed in its face; literally, the One who lived to tell about it. Alas, this “Paschal Mystery” – this suffering, death, and Resurrection – of Jesus is hope, comfort, and strength for those who are perhaps weaker in faith than we may wish to be. In fact, as I shall further demonstrate below, there is great significance in a rather pivotal act which Jesus not only performed thousands of years ago, but that He continues to perform in and through each one of us in real-time, to this day, moment-by-moment, and without ceasing. This is only possible because He lives.

Living the Past in the Present

            Within the vastly deep treasury of our Christian intellectual and spiritual traditions, there exists always a continuity with the forerunners of intellectual and metaphysical ponderings in various allusions to ancient Greek philosophy. The uniquely Christian concept known as “anamnesis” finds its earliest roots and origins in Platonic philosophical musings. In Platonic philosophy, “anamnesis” refers to “the remembering of things from a previous existence to the degree that one’s recollection continues and/or permits participatory entry into the original event” (Plato’s Logic of Recollection). In explicitly Christian context, we find this “anamnesis” grounded in the various liturgical theologies of the Sacraments. That is, because Jesus has risen and lives; also, because He is the fullness of God incarnate, He is not bound by our human perceptions and/or limitations of time. When we participate in the Sacraments, we participate not in a simple “recollection” or “remembering” that Jesus once performed a miracle or a salvific action, but that He performs this STILL – in the here and now, and in our participation, we are present to share in the ORIGINAL action that continues even today.

            Some examples from our tradition may help to illustrate this sometimes heady philosophy and theology a bit more practically. In the Christian Sacrament of Eucharist / Communion / Lord’s Supper, we do not simply “remember,” “recall,” or “repeat” Jesus’ Words to “Take this, all of you, and eat / drink of it; this is my body / blood. For as often as you do this, do so in memory of me” (cf. Matt. 26:26-28; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20; & John’s Last Supper Discourses [Chapters 13-17]). Unbounded by the limitations of time and space, very God of very God – Jesus living forever – continues His eternal sacrifice. In the moments wherein we receive the bread and wine / the Body and Blood of Jesus, we receive it directly from the hands of the Wounded-Healer Himself, in the company of His Apostles, gathered around His table, the night before He died. This mystery continues as often as we do this in His memory, as He instructed us. When we marry as Christian persons, we at once are metaphysically – yet no less realistically – absorbed into a continuation of the Wedding Feast at Cana, the sight of Jesus’ first miracle (cf. John 2:1-11). It was and is here that as we come together in one spirit and flesh with our beloved, that Jesus works again a new miracle in us – transforming mere water (our singular selves) into new wine (our best selves united to our lover). Perhaps these revelations are surprising to many readers, but this is, nevertheless and no matter how surprising, our faith!

            I mention all that I have on “anamnesis” because I don’t find Jesus’ continual activity and involvement in our lives to be solely confined to Sacramental participation. Were this so, it would undermine the heart of Jesus’ entire mission, ministry, and message. So often throughout His ministry and life did the Lord emphasize the importance of our “interior disposition.” He cares about the content of our hearts; not so much our actions. He desires that we personally relate to Him, but not because He needs us. He wants us. This is what propelled His sacrifice, namely, the depth to which He is relentlessly in love with each one of us. If, then, we draw and hold close to Jesus – even in the midst of our shortcomings, failures, heartbreaks, sorrows, addictions, sins, and weaknesses – He notices. He recognizes our heart and loves us to such excess that He refuses to stay apart from us. It was St. Augustine, in his famous book “Confessions,” who wrote and prayed: “You, my God, are more interior to me even than I am to myself.” To the extent that this is true (as we believe it to be), we bear, then, Christ’s own Spirit living within each of us. The heart of my anamnestic comparison rests in this.

Every Breath He Takes

            Literally, the word “Christian” means “little Christ.” That is what we are because “we bear”, as Oscar Romero once said, “the Spirit that raised Jesus to new life!” This being so, we received Jesus’ Spirit at some point – and in a spiritually anamnestic way – we continually do so. We did at the moment of our salvation; at our Baptism; each time we pray or receive communion, but I think it’s much more frequent, even. As in… each time we draw a breath. Follow me into this analogy.

            There on the Cross, writhing in inexplicable and excruciating pain, hung Jesus. He did all He did – from the emotional battering of His betrayal to the literal flaying of His back in His scourging to the Cross itself – for you and for me… and not, mind you, as a collective, but as a personal act of the greatest Love. Because of the significance of this loving act of sacrifice, obedience, and salvation, each act, each breath Christ breathed became sanctified and sacred. If each breath, then, was imbued with such power, then therein lies in Christ’s final breath an ULTIMATE power.

            St. John the Evangelist, in His Gospel account of Jesus’ final moments on earth, tells us: “After Jesus had sipped the sour wine given Him, He said, “It is accomplished.” And bowing His head, He breathed His last and handed over His Spirit” (19:30). More than two things are powerfully significant here, but for our purposes, we’ll take up two. In the first place, we are told that Jesus breathed His last; that is, He took His final breath. Remember this as it will come up again later. Secondly, we are told that Jesus handed over His Spirit. That language is fascinating because it signals a conferral. When we graduate, a university “hands over” a degree to us. They confer it upon us. So, when John says that Jesus “handed over His Spirit,” this is not sloppy nor dated language. This is intentional and significant.

Every Breath We Take

            Many of us are likely familiar with cardiopulmonary resuscitation (what we more commonly call, “CPR”). We utilize this only in the most extreme of circumstances when a person has, for whatever reason, stopped breathing. Among its steps is involved the delivery of “rescue breaths” wherein the intervening person literally expels their own breath into the airways of the person in-need. The hope here is that the person in-need will begin breathing again on their own, compelled to do so by autonomic responses of the lungs (“muscle memory”). Breath is important for human physical life. The inhaling of oxygen and exhaling of carbon dioxide regulates our bodies internal systems and operations; giving necessary chemical make-up to the cells in our blood, utilized by our hearts and our brains. This is no surprise to anyone. But, breath is equally important to our life beyond the merely physical. It is vital to our spiritual lives as well.    

            When Jesus breathed His last and thus died, all of hell shrieked in agony. For in that moment, the evil one and all his henchmen knew their time was limited and that their ultimate destruction was at hand. When Jesus breathed His last, that last breath went forth into this world – not merely a combination of oxygen and carbon dioxide, but imbued with a sacredness no other Person has ever or will ever expel. His breath contained His very Spirit. In the moment Jesus breathed His last, He breathed eternal life into a dead world. In Jesus final breath, He delivered a sort of “supernatural CPR” to a world that had ceased to breathe. Indeed, we had choked on our selfishness; and were so far gone that only the Divine breath of the Divine One could revive us. In a spiritually anamnestic way, each breath we take is a continuation of the final breath taken by Jesus Christ on the Cross because His Spirit is transmuted into those of us who have accepted it by faith, however weak. His final breath was not only each one of our firsts… it is each one we take. His final breath is what sustains us moment by moment because in that final breath was not merely salvation, but the life which has no end. The eternal victory of Christ, the King over death, pain, sorrow, and shame continues in each breath we take for we merely continue Christ’s final breath.