In the Bible, a memorial is something that brings God’s promises and previous actions to mind, so that He can do them again. The rainbow is the model, set in heaven so that Yahweh remembers the covenant He makes with Noah (Genesis 9:13-15). God is light and dwells in a clout, so the rainbow surrounds the radiant ​face of God at all times.

Yahweh sets up His own memorial when He hangs the rainbow in the sky, but humans also present memorials before Him. In the sacrificial system, the “memorial” (‘azkarah) portion of the tribute offering was the handful taken from the grain and placed on the altar to ascend to God as bridal food (cf. Leviticus 2:2, 9, 16; 5:12; 6:15; Numbers 5:26). Israel’s altar was a place of memorial. When Israel brings ascensions and peace offerings to Yahweh, He causes “My name to be Remembered.” When Israel offers sacrifice, Yahweh draws near to bless (Exodus 20:24).

Incense was placed on the loaves of showbread so that the loaves became “memorials” in the holy place (Leviticus 24:7). Later, music takes a similar role, as the Levites are appointed as musicians and singers to “memorialize and to thank and praise the Lord God of Israel” (1 Chronicles 16:4; for more see my From Silence to Song: The Davidic Liturgical Revolution and John Kleinig’s The Lord’s Song). Though performed by human beings, God commands and authorizes these memorials and promises to respond to them.

Sacrificial memorials get translated in various ways in the New Testament. Praise is a “sacrifice” (Hebrews 13:15), and, like the praise and song of the temple, the church’s praise ascends as a memorial to God. Good works and alms ascend to God as memorials. The Lord tells Cornelius that His prayers and alms ascends like sacrifice “as a memorial before God” (Acts 10:15), and Paul assures the Philippians that their generosity is a sacrifice, implying that it serves as a memorial (Philippians 4:17-18). When Christians do good works, especially works of mercy, the Father remembers His promise to care for and reward them. So Paul can move from talking about the Philippian donation as a sacrifice to the assurance that “my God shall supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (4:19).

For the church, the Supper is the chief memorial. “Do this as My Memorial,” Jesus says, and that refers primarily to the Eucharist’s function as a memorial before the Father (see Max Thurian, The Mystery of the Eucharist for a classic exposition of this theme). When we do what Jesus commanded, we memorialize the death of Jesus before the Father, “reminding” the Father of what the Son has done to secure all gifts for His people, especially the gift of the Spirit. The Eucharist sums up all the promises and pledges of God, and serves as a memorial before Him.

The Eucharist is an eschatologically oriented memorial. All memorials enact what God now what God has promised for the future. The rainbow is a reminder to Yahweh of His promise not to destroy the earth again. Animals ascend in smoke to God as memorials of His promise that He will seat His Son and His Bride at His right hand. Incense ascends as a memorial of God’s promises, a plea in smoke. Memorials are always oriented eschatologically, and so the memorial comes before the eschaton. We act now on the premise that we will be more and more what we are enacting.

The Eucharist is the focal memorial of the Christian church precisely because is sums up all that the Lord has pledged to do. He has promised to bring us to a final wedding banquet, where we enjoy the abundant fruits of creation in His presence, and are joined to Him by one Spirit. That is what happens in every Eucharist; that is what we hope will happen even more fully in the eschaton. By keeping the meal, we offer a dramatized memorial of the world that God has promised to make.

And here we can see why inter-communion is the first step toward Catholic unity and not a final achievement. When we act in unity, we memorialize the unity that Jesus has prayed for – that we may be one, as the Father and Son are one. Methodists and Lutherans cooperate in soup kitchens; Evangelicals and Catholics unite in defense of the defenseless unborn. These good works are memorials, and since they are done in unity, they are memorials of the unity that will come. When churches engage in common ministry, they present before the Father the one church that He gave to His Son.

The church’s fundamental memorial is the Eucharist. Every promise of God is Yes and Amen in the Christ who gives Himself to us in the Spirit at His table. As we enact the Eucharist, we are depicting before the Father the church and the world He has promised to create. And if we have been promised a church united at one table in one feast before one God, we must memorialize that reality now.

Consider the converse, which is the current state of the church: The Supper is still a memorial even when we do it divisively. We are still portraying something before the Father, but it is not a memorial of the future eschatological unity. It simply expresses our dividedness. Our Eucharists mirror the wounded world that Jesus sent the church to heal.

God will unite His church. Jesus prayed for a unified humanity, and died for it. It will happen. But God will achieve this unity by inspiring the church to memorialize the united body of the future in the present. It is an act of faith to declare ritually we are one even in the midst of our remaining differences and divisions. And God rewards faith.

We shouldn’t wait to memorialize our future until we have achieved unity, until we have concluded every doctrinal difference and resolved every governmental debate. Putting doctrine and orders ahead of intercommunion gets things backwards. If we wait for Eucharistic unity, we will never achieve unity. Memorializing the unity of the future in the meal Jesus gave us is the path toward the unity we hope for.

Peter J. Leithart is President of Theopolis Institute.