The Eucharist: The Question of the Real Presence
The Eucharist: The Question of the Real Presence
The sacraments have never been of purely theoretical importance for Christianity. From the earliest of times, the sacraments have been of central importance to Christian life and worship. This is especially the case with the Eucharist. Even in the New Testament we find reference to the first Christians obeying Jesus Christ's command to remember him through the bread and wine (1 Corinthians 11: 20–7).
It was therefore inevitable and entirely proper that considerable theological attention should be given to the explanation of the meaning of this practice. What did it achieve? And in what way did the eucharistic bread and wine differ from ordinary bread and wine? The words spoken by Jesus Christ over the bread at the Last Supper, and repeated in the liturgy of the church, were clearly of foundational importance.
But what did those words “this is my body” (Matthew 26: 26) mean? The words certainly suggested that Jesus was really present at the breaking of the eucharistic bread – an idea often referred to as “the real presence.” It is this question that we shall consider in the present section of this work. Not only is the question of considerable interest in its own right but it is also of importance in relation to the differences that have emerged within Christianity since the time of the Reformation.
A particularly important witness to the early Christian understanding of the fate of the bread and wine is provided by the “catechetical lectures” of Cyril of Jerusalem (c.313–86). This series of 24 lectures of instruction on the beliefs and practices of the Christian church, given at some point around 350 to those preparing for baptism, is an important witness to the ideas that prevailed in the Jerusalem church around this point. It is clear that Cyril regarded the bread and wine as somehow becoming the body and blood of Christ.
[Jesus Christ] by his own will once changed water into wine at Cana in Galilee. So why should we not believe that he can change wine into blood? [...] We should therefore have full assurance that we are sharing in the body and blood of Christ. For in the type of bread, his body is given to you, and in the type of wine, his blood is given to you, so that by partaking of the body and blood of Christ you may become of one body and one blood with him.
The question of how this transformation took place was of considerable interest to the patristic writers. Most, like the great Greek theologian John of Damascus (c.676–749), writing in the early eighth century, believed that it was sufficient simply to affirm the mystery:
And now you ask how the bread becomes the body of Christ, and the wine and the water become the blood of Christ. I shall tell you. The Holy Spirit comes upon them, and achieves things which surpass every word and thought. [...] Let it be enough for you to understand that this takes place by the Holy Spirit.
Others, however, were inclined to be more speculative, leading to a major controversy over the issue in the western church during the ninth century, to which we now turn.
The Ninth-Century Debates over the Real Presence
The monastery of Corbie in Picardy was the scene for some theological fireworks during the ninth century, focusing on the doctrine of predestination and the nature of the real presence. The two major combatants were Paschasius Radbertus (785–865) and Ratramnus of Corbie (died c.868), who were both monks at this great French monastery during this period. Each wrote a work with the same title – Concerning the Body and Blood of Christ – yet developing very different understandings of the real presence. Radbertus, whose work was completed around 844, developed the idea that the bread and the wine become the body and blood of Christ in reality; Ratramnus, whose work was written shortly afterward, defended the view that they were merely symbols of the body and blood.
Although Radbertus did not offer an explanation of precisely how ordinary bread was transformed into the body of Christ, he was convinced of the physical reality and spiritual importance of the change:
The same Spirit who created the human being Jesus Christ in the womb of the Virgin without any human seed daily creates the flesh and the blood of Christ by his invisible power through the consecration of this sacrament, even though this cannot be understood outwardly by either sight or taste.
Ratramnus was not convinced, and argued along very different lines. The difference between ordinary and consecrated bread lay in the way in which the believer perceived them. The consecrated bread remained bread; however, the believer was enabled to perceive a deeper spiritual meaning as a result of its consecration. The difference thus lies in the believer rather than in the bread:
The bread which, through the ministry of the priest, becomes the body of Christ exhibits one thing externally to human senses, and points to something different inwardly to the minds of believers. Externally, the bread has the same shape, color, and flavor as before; inwardly, however, something very different, something much more precious and excellent, is made known, because something heavenly and divine – that is, the body of Christ – is revealed. This is not perceived or received or consumed by the physical senses, but only in the sight of the believer.
A third approach was also developed at this time. Candidus, a theologian at Fulda, one of the most famous German monasteries of this age, argued that the phrase “this is my body” (Matthew 26: 26) refers to the “body of Christ” in the sense of the Christian church. The purpose of the sacrament of the body and blood of Christ is to nourish and bring to perfection the church as the body of Christ.
This is the body which was given for you. He took this body from the mass of humanity, broke it in the passion, and, having broken it, raised it again from the dead. [...] What he took from us, he has now given to us. And you are to “eat” it. That is, you are to make perfect the body of the church, so that it might become the entire, perfect one bread, whose head is Christ.
Medieval Views on the Relationship between “Sign” and “Sacrament”
The development of the doctrine of the sacraments during the Middle Ages gave rise to some technical terms which readers may find it helpful to understand. Although many find it easiest to think of sacraments in terms of the distinction between the “sign” and “what is signified,” medieval theologians developed a triple classification, which we shall consider at this point.
During the twelfth-century theological renaissance, the various aspects of sacraments were clarified by means of a threefold distinction, based on the writings of Augustine of Hippo. In thinking about the Eucharist, it was argued, three different aspects of the sacrament should be distinguished. The scholastics distinguished between the sacramental sign itself (sacramentum tantum), the intermediate effect brought about by the sacrament (res et sacramentum), and the ultimate effect or “fruit” of the sacrament (res tantum). In what follows, we shall explore these distinctions, using the terminology that you are likely to encounter in more technical discussions.
To help us understand this difficult distinction, we may consider how a medieval Eucharist would take place, and the changing status of the bread and wine during the event. What follows is a loose paraphrase of Thomas Aquinas's (c.1225–74) exposition of these concepts in his Summa theologiae (“The Totality of Theology”):
The debate over the real presence continued in subsequent theological discussion, particularly during the Middle Ages. The issue became particularly controversial at the time of the Reformation and remains an issue of contention among Christians today. In what follows, we shall outline the three main positions encountered in modern Christianity, and indicate their historical development.
Transubstantiation
We have already noted how Paschasius Radbertus insisted that the bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ as a result of their consecration, even though he experienced some difficulty in conceptualizing this change. The doctrine of transubstantiation represents a consolidation and development of this position.
The doctrine was formally defined by the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), probably the greatest council to meet before the Council of Trent in the sixteenth century. Although the Council did not provide a formal, extended discussion of the process of transubstantiation, it offered a definitive statement of its essential features:
There is one universal church of the faithful, outside of which none can be saved, in which the priest himself is the sacrifice, Jesus Christ, whose body and blood are truly contained under the species of bread and wine, by the bread being changed in substance to the body [transsubstantiatis pane in corpus] and the wine to the blood through the divine power.
The Council here used Aristotelian language throughout its discussion – notice the references to “substance” (inner identity) and “species” (outward appearance). Yet clarification of the mechanism of this doctrine was placed upon a much more solid Aristotelian foundation later in the thirteenth century by Thomas Aquinas. Aquinas used Aristotle's distinction between “substance” and “accident” to explain what happened in consecration. The substance of something is its essential nature, whereas its accidents are its outward appearances (its color, shape, smell, and so forth). The theory of transubstantiation affirms that the accidents of the bread and wine (their outward appearance, taste, smell, and so forth) remain unchanged at the moment of consecration, while their substance changes from that of bread and wine to that of the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Aquinas is adamant that the substance of the bread and wine does not remain after consecration; their outward appearance may remain unaltered but their original identity as bread and wine is annihilated.
This approach was heavily criticized by Protestant theologians at the time of the Reformation for introducing Aristotelian ideas into Christian theology. Yet, despite his opposition to Aquinas's statement of the idea of transubstantiation, Luther's own position is somewhat closer to this than many realize. His main criticism of the doctrine of transubstantiation is that it depends upon the use of pagan philosophical categories (namely, Aristotle's ideas of substance and accidents). As we shall see presently, Luther's own approach – widely referred to (but not by Luther himself) as “consubstantiation” – holds that the body and blood of Christ are indeed given along with, or under, the bread and wine. Other Protestant writers, most notably Huldrych Zwingli, were much more critical of the concept.
It was not until 1551 that the Council of Trent finally set forth the positive position of the Catholic church in the “Decree on the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.” Up to this point, Trent had merely criticized the reformers without putting forth a coherent alternative position. This deficiency was now remedied. The Decree opens with a strong affirmation of the real substantial presence of Christ: “After the consecration of the bread and wine, our Lord Jesus Christ is truly, really and substantially contained in the venerable sacrament of the holy Eucharist under the appearance of those physical things.” The Council vigorously defended both the doctrine and the terminology of transubstantiation. “By the consecration of the bread and wine a change is brought about of the whole substance of the bread into the substance of the body of Christ and of the whole substance of the wine into the blood of Christ. This change the holy catholic church properly and appropriately calls transubstantiation.”
Following the Council of Trent, the concept of transubstantiation was regarded as the definitive Catholic position on the matter, and it was not the subject of serious debate within the Catholic church until the 1960s. The doctrine was not without its difficulties, not least in terms of offering a natural illustration of the strongly counterintuitive ideas lying behind it. One of the most interesting defenses of the doctrine stems from the French Catholic philosopher René Descartes (1596–1650). In a letter of 1645, Descartes suggested that the human digestive system offered a natural analogy for transubstantiation. The human body, he argued, was an organic model for the process. Was not the natural process of digestion about the transformation of bread into a human body? No appeal to the miraculous need be made. If the eucharistic transubstantiation requires any kind of miracle, it is in the sense that it implies the assimilation of the bread to the body of Christ without the mediation of the organic functions of the human body. It was an interesting point, but not one that was welcomed by the church authorities of the time.
Transignification and Transfinalization
During the 1960s – a time of considerable theological ferment within Catholicism – the idea of transubstantiation came under critical examination by Catholic theologians such as Edward Schillebeeckx. In response to growing anxiety over the apologetic plausibility of the notion of transubstantiation, two ways of reconceiving the notion were developed. Each, to its supporters, seemed to retain the essential features of the older dogma while responding to the metaphysical skepticism of the era.
The notion of “transfinalization” expresses the idea that consecration alters the end or purpose of the bread and wine. The related notion of “transignification” expresses the idea that consecration is primarily concerned with the change of meaning of the bread and the wine. Both avoid any notion of a mysterious change in the inner identity of the bread and wine – an idea that was thought to be implausible in the increasingly skeptical culture of that age. Transfinalization denotes a fundamental change of the purpose of the bread and wine (e.g., the goal of physical nourishment is replaced with that of spiritual nourishment). Transignification denotes a fundamental change in what the bread and wine signify or point to (e.g., from signifying food into signifying Christ). Both these notions rest upon the assumption that the identity of the bread and wine cannot be isolated from their context or use.
The terms “transignification” and “transfinalization” began to be used extensively during the 1960s, particularly by a group of Belgian Catholic theologians who found themselves ill at ease with the traditional language of “transubstantiation.” In his important study The Eucharist (1968), Edward Schillebeeckx argued that the Aristotelian philosophical framework underlying this notion caused difficulties for many modern people. A new approach was needed, he argued, which would retain the essential theological insights of the Council of Trent without embodying these in an outdated and vulnerable philosophical framework.
Schillebeeckx noted that a growing hostility toward the use of ontological or “physical” interpretations of the Eucharist within Catholic circles after the Second World War was matched by a “rediscovery of the sacramental symbolic activity” – that is, a realization that “the sacraments are first and foremost symbolic acts or activity as signs.” Schillebeeckx suggests that the Italian writer Joseph de Baciocchi gave a new sense of direction to this way of thinking during the 1950s, and introduced the terms “transfunctionalism,” “transfinalization,” and “transignification” to explain the approach he had in mind. After noting the contribution to this way of thinking by writers such as Piet Schoonenberg (1911–99) and Luchesius Smits (1918–2010), Schillebeeckx set out his approach to this issue as follows:
Christ's gift of himself, however, is not ultimately directed towards bread and wine, but towards the faithful. The real presence is intended for believers, but through the medium of and in this gift of bread and wine. In other words, the Lord who gives himself thus is sacramentally present. In this commemorative meal, bread and wine become the subject of a new establishment of meaning, not by men, but by the living Lord in the Church, through which they become the sign of the real presence of Christ giving himself to us.
Schillebeeckx's point is that interpretation of the signification of the eucharistic bread and wine is not arbitrary, nor a human imposition upon them; it is an act of discernment by the church, which it has been authorized to undertake by Christ.
There is, for Schillebeeckx, no need to invoke the notion of a physical change of substance of the bread and wine. Christ's intention was not to alter the metaphysics of the eucharistic elements but to ensure that these pointed to his continuing presence within the church, as the community of the faithful:
Something can be essentially changed without its physical or biological make-up being changed. In relationships between persons, bread acquires a sense quite other than the sense it has for the physicist or the metaphysician, for example. Bread, while remaining physically what it was, can be taken up into an order of significance other than the purely biological. The bread then is other than it was, because its determinate relationship to man plays its part in determining the reality about which we are speaking.
The official response of the Catholic church to these developments was to affirm that they were acceptable, provided that they were upheld within the context of the traditional understanding of transubstantiation. If the bread and the wine were indeed changed in the manner that this traditional teaching affirmed, it followed that both the goal and the signification of the bread and wine were changed as well. In his encyclical Mysterium fidei (“The Mystery of Faith,” 1965), Pope Paul VI (1897–1978) stated the point at issue as follows:
As a result of transubstantiation, the species of bread and wine undoubtedly take on a new signification and a new finality, for they are no longer ordinary bread and wine but instead a sign of something sacred and a sign of spiritual food. Yet they take on this new signification, this new finality, precisely because they contain a new “reality.” [...] For what now lies beneath the aforementioned species [that is, what is now the new substance of the elements] is not what was there before, but something completely different [...] namely, the body and blood of Christ.
Consubstantiation
This view, especially associated with Martin Luther, insists upon the simultaneous presence of both bread and the body of Christ at one and the same time. There is no change in substance; the substances of bread and the body of Christ are present together. The doctrine of transubstantiation seemed to Luther to be an absurdity, an attempt to rationalize a mystery.
For Luther, the crucial point was that Christ was really present at the Eucharist; Luther was not concerned with any particular theory as to how he was present. He deployed an image borrowed from Origen (c.185–c.254) to make his point: if iron is placed in a fire and heated, it glows, and in that glowing iron both the iron and heat are present. For Luther, it was vastly preferable to use some simple everyday analogy such as this to illustrate the mystery of the presence of Christ at the Eucharist than to rationalize it using some metaphysical subtlety. For Luther, it is not the specific doctrine of transubstantiation that is to be believed but simply that Christ really is present at the Eucharist. This fact, he argued, was far more important than any theory or explanation invoked subsequent to the actuality of that presence.
A Real Absence: Memorialism
The most metaphysically austere understanding of the “real presence” is especially associated with the Swiss Protestant reformer Huldrych Zwingli. For Zwingli, the Eucharist (he preferred to style it “the Remembrance”) is “a memorial of the suffering of Christ, and not a sacrifice.” For reasons which we shall explore below, Zwingli insisted that the words “this is my body” cannot be taken literally, thus eliminating any idea of the “real presence of Christ” at the Eucharist. Just as a man, on setting off on a long journey from home, might give his wife his ring to remember him by until his return, so Christ left his church a token to remember him by until the day on which he returns in glory.
But what of the words “this is my body” (Matthew 26: 26), which had been the cornerstone of traditional Catholic views of the real presence, and which Luther had seized upon in his defense of the real presence? Zwingli argued that “there are innumerable passages in Scripture where the word ‘is' means ‘signifies.'” The question that must therefore be addressed is
whether Christ's words in Matthew 26, “This is my body” can also be taken metaphorically or figuratively. It has already become clear enough that in this context the word “is” cannot be taken literally. Hence it follows that it must be taken metaphorically or figuratively. In the words “This is my body,” the word “this” means the bread, and the word “body” means the body which was put to death for us. Therefore the word “is” cannot be taken literally, for the bread is not the body.
Zwingli thus develops a theory of “transignification,” in which the bread and the wine change their significance as a result of their location within the eucharistic liturgy. The change is subjective, not objective, lying in the way in which worshipers regard the bread and wine, not in those objects' actual identity. The bread and wine thus become reminders of Christ in his absence and a central focus for the church's expectation that its Lord will one day return. There is no metaphysical difficulty about the presence of Christ in the Eucharist, precisely because there is no presence to discuss.