Fire is one of the most common symbols in human mythological, literary, and religious history. It is literally elemental. Fire is fundamental to human existence, and not just in reference to human survival. It has been argued that fire was that which humanized our ancestors. According to Richard Wrangham, in Catching Fire: How Cooking Made Us Human, it was the regular eating of cooked food that led to our increase in relative brain size, allowing for cognitive development. Cooked food resulted in better energy production and safer eating habits. Humans could live longer and healthier, which allowed our ancestors to focus on higher-level needs than mere survival. Alongside the physical transformation was a relational development. Polly Wiessner, in Embers of Society, argues that it was sitting around fires, face-to-face, that we developed our ability for abstract language. This would include the language required for mythology, philosophy, and theology. Fire, then, is not only transformative for inanimate things of this world, but for the immortal human soul as well.

Words on Fire

Not surprisingly, ancient peoples—including the biblical authors—recognized the transformative, quasi-deifying, power of fire as well. The sacred rites of many cultures, including the Hebrews, involved the burning up of offerings so that the sacrifice would rise up to the gods—or God.

God himself is depicted with the imagery of fire in the Old Testament. The calling of Moses includes the theophany of the burning bush (Exodus 3). God also appears as a pillar of fire (Exodus 13:21-22) and descends on Mount Sinai in fire when giving the Law (Exodus 19:18). These scenes are all important in expressing something about God. The fire which burns but does not consume the burning bush shows God’s nature as that which does not compete and overpower our own nature, but cooperates with our nature and desires our cooperation. The pillar of fire illustrates God’s power, specifically his protective power for Israel from Pharaoh. Finally, the fire of Mount Sinai and the writing of the Decalogue show God’s will for Israel as he sets them apart for holiness.

In Leviticus 9:24, “fire came forth from before the Lord and consumed the burnt offering and the fat upon the altar.” While not explicitly identified with God himself, his presence manifested as fire is consistent with other theophanies from the life of Moses. The added significance of this scene is that it takes place in the context of worship. Elsewhere, Moses uses the image of God as a consuming fire to warn Israel against the false worship of idols (Deuteronomy 4:24), showing the consequences of defective offerings in worship.

This image of God’s fire in worship continues in the history of Israel with King Solomon and the dedication of the Temple, the place of worship of the true God: “When Solomon had ended his prayer, fire came down from heaven and consumed the burnt offering and the sacrifices, and the glory of the Lord filled the house” (2 Chronicles 7:1). The manifestation of God by fire in worship appears again with the prophet Elijah, and the challenge against the prophets of Baal. Despite the soaking of the altar, “the Lord’s fire came down and devoured” everything, including the water (1 Kings 18:38). Interestingly, while no fire came to devour the Baal sacrifice, the priests accepted these terms, indicating that this was an expectation of pagan worship as well.

Fuel for Worship

These examples are far from exhaustive, but they illustrate that God is often depicted as—or as using—fire in the context of worship, specifically in the transferring and transforming of the sacrifice itself. Turning to the Christian dispensation, the Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) expresses similar imagery applied to the Holy Spirit, citing the “transforming energy” as one of the primary reasons the symbol of fire is used for the Spirit (CCC, 696). The transforming energy of fire remains essential to worship, to preaching, and to sanctification.

In the Mass, the priest calls upon God to send the Holy Spirit to come down upon the bread and wine during the prayer of epiclesis, which means “invocation.” This prayer calling down the Holy Spirit asks God to consecrate the bread and wine, to “make them holy.” We are asking God to accept the sacrifice and change it. What immediately follows are the words of consecration, whereupon the bread and wine are changed, transubstantiated, into the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus. While Western Catholics emphasize the words of consecration, Eastern Christians (both Orthodox and Catholic) consider this epiclesis prayer essential for the consecration of the bread and wine. The Catechism of the Catholic Church seeks to harmonize these points by recognizing them both as “the heart of each Eucharistic Prayer” (CCC, 1106).

This double-emphasis is important because the divine fire not only transforms things like a lamb or a grain offering—it transforms us. We have biblical examples of the transformative power God’s fire has on humans as well. Going back to Elijah, he saw God as fire with the prophets of Baal, and then he experienced it in his assumption by fire (2 Kings 2:11). In this case, his life as a prophet was the offering, and it was accepted. We then see Elijah “in glory” at the Transfiguration many years later (Luke 9:30-31). The fire that carried him away changed him as only God can. It is also no surprise that the other heavenly human person present at the Transfiguration, Moses, also experienced the fire of God numerous times. These two Old Testament figures point us to the advent of Christ and to the wider transformation in holiness that God had already promised in Israel’s history (cf. Joel 2:28).

The Apostles may be the most well-known and important examples of those changed by the fire of God. In Acts 2 we find them in the upper room, the place where Christian worship was instituted and the first act of transubstantiation occurred. Here, they too receive this fire of God as the Holy Spirit descends, and they are transformed. They become the offering, united with the very same offering that was presented at the Last Supper. There is a profound change in the character of the Apostles from pre- to post-Pentecost. They become offerings in the physical sense, as they and many other early Christians would give their lives for the sake of Christ and the Church.

The changing of the bread and wine that begins with the epiclesis at Mass is also for our own transformation. By this transformation and our union with Christ, we participate in the sacrifice being offered (CCC, 1105). The Old Testament, the New Testament, and the liturgy all lead us to see that we are likewise transformed into the Body of Christ. St. Augustine told us to “become what you receive” in reference to the Eucharist (Sermon 272). This includes the sacrificial offering upon which the Holy Spirit descends at the epiclesis and by which we are changed. In receiving the sacred species changed into Christ, we are a sacred species, made in God’s image and, as temples of the Holy Spirit by our baptism, we are changed into Christ. This is a process known as deification, which has roots in the New Testament (cf. 2 Peter 1:4) and in Christian history. It is the result of the gift of God’s grace. Fittingly, “gift” is also a name for the Holy Spirit (Summa Theologiae I, q. 38, art. 2). The gift of the Holy Spirit himself, who is also called the “Spirit of Christ” (CCC, 693; Romans 8:9), brings about the change in us when we receive the Eucharist in faith. The Church expresses this connection powerfully when it calls the Holy Spirit “the sap of the Father’s vine” and “the Spirit of Communion” (CCC, 1108).

Burning Transformation

We, like the Apostles, are transformed by the Holy Spirit and are conformed to Christ by receiving him in Communion. As St. Ignatius of Antioch notes, we should seek to be “God’s wheat” and the “pure bread of Christ” (Letter to the Romans). Then, at the self-offering of our own lives, we too might exude an aroma similar to that of St. Polycarp, whose martyrdom by immolation is reported to have produced the smell of baking bread. Both of these saints’ deaths reflect their lives of sacrifice made to God, and God’s acceptance of that sacrifice. Those deaths, and those lives, were utterly united to Christ’s in prayer and action. We received the Holy Spirit at our baptism—the same Holy Spirit who is called upon at Mass—and we are transformed when we receive Christ in the Eucharist. May we then offer ourselves up in the same Fire of sacrifice and exude the same odor of sanctity in our lives.