266. When Christ’s Presence departs from the sacrament
266. WHEN CHRIST’S PRESENCE DEPARTS FROM THE SACRAMENT
The last question was about space. This one is about time.
As Christ is really present in some places (the consecrated Host) and not others, He is also really present there at some times (after the words of Consecration) and not others (before the Consecration). And when He is eaten by the recipient of the Eucharist, He ceases to be present once all the molecules of the bread are digested and its nature (“species”) as bread ceases to exist there due to physical or chemical changes in the body. But how can physical or chemical changes have an effect on Christ? How can the eternal God, Who transcends time, be dependent on time and change in any way?
Whatever possesses unfailing existence of itself, cannot be the principle (source) of failing. But when something else fails, then it (i.e., existence) ceases to be in it (i.e., in the thing that fails), just as God, Whose existence is unfailing and immortal, ceases to be in some corruptible creature because such corruptible creature ceases to exist.
And in this way, since Christ has unfailing and incorruptible being, He ceases to be under this sacrament not because He ceases to be, nor yet by local movement . . . but only by the fact that the sacramental species ceases to exist. . . .
The Body of Christ remains in this sacrament . . . so long as the sacramental species remain; and when they cease, Christ’s Body ceases to be under them, not because it depends on them but because the relationship of Christ’s Body to those species is taken away, in the same way as God ceases to be the Lord of a creature which ceases to exist (III,76,6).
God is everywhere and everywhen. When a place or time ceases to be, God ceases to be in it. The nature of bread ceases to be in the body once it is fully digested (about fifteen minutes after swallowing it). So the supernatural nature of Christ ceases to be in or behind the species of bread when there is no species of bread any more. God Himself cannot die. When He says “Be!” to anything, that thing cannot fail to be. But when a thing ceases to be the instrument for His presence, it can cease because He ceases to say “Be!” to it. Two examples of this are (1) the soul that loses sanctifying grace by mortal sin and (2) the consecrated bread and wine of the Eucharist about fifteen minutes after receiving them, when the “sacramental species”, i.e., the nature (“species”) of the physical appearances, namely the chemical structures, are transformed by the body’s digestive juices. (We miss a great opportunity for grace if we leave our prayers less than fifteen minutes after receiving Communion. We also disappoint our Lord, Who came an infinite distance, from Heaven to earth, for this intimate encounter. It is a spiritual tryst.)
These two things are the holiest things in the world, for the same reason: Christ is really personally present in the Eucharist and in the soul that accepts Him by faith, hope, and charity. The presence is not the same in the two cases—we do not adore our Christian neighbor—but it is real in both cases. As C. S. Lewis says in The Weight of Glory, “It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours. . . . Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbour is the holiest object presented to your senses.”