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The Real Presence for Protestants

Catholic teaching regarding communion often provokes opposition, confusion, or outright resentment among protestants. There are many different aspects of the Eucharist that provoke such reactions, but one of the most common is the concept of the “real presence”. As a former protestant, I guess I should be able to sympathize with common protestant sentiment in this regard. But the sentiment is actually quite difficult for me to understand. Even as a protestant, I accepted the idea that Christ could be and was present in communion. I must admit that some of this acceptance came out of my background.

As a “PK” in the late 70’s to early 80’s, I grew up with a basic understanding of “sacraments”. As a protestant, I knew that there were only two sacraments: baptism and communion. Over time, my dad moved down a more fundamentalist path, gradually rejecting the idea of “sacraments” (I think). Actually I am not entirely clear what path he took and why because we never discussed the issue. But my own early upbringing was never unseated, and I never rejected the idea that Christ had left certain “sacraments” for the church. Among these was “communion”. And if communion was a “sacrament”, it must be something more than just a symbol. In the first place, evangelicals and fundamentals generally dislike symbols as a rule of thumb. Second, the idea of placing any sort of theological emphasis on a symbol was more distasteful. And finally, we did have symbols that were “okay”, like the fish on the back of the car (now he’s often eating a Darwin fish!), little dove logos, and, of course, the cross. Yet none of these symbols could be considered “sacraments”. So obviously communion and baptism had to have some sort of power that was more than merely symbolic.

When I went to college and attended church for the first time as an adult, I ended up at a Lutheran congregation. This was an odd place for an evangelical like me, especially considering the proximity of Lutheranism to Catholicism, the more liturgical service (though not strictly practiced at this congregation), the infant baptism, etc. However, during Bible classes, I had no problem accepting the Lutheran doctrine of the real presence, known as “consubstantiation”. In short, this meant that the bread and wine were not replaced by Christ’s body and blood, but that the elements were joined by Christ’s body and blood. The prefix “con” meaning to join, compared with the Catholic dogma of “transubstantiation” where the prefix “trans” indicates a transformation. In either case, both doctrines accept the true presence of Christ’s body and blood in the elements.

Some of you who know my conversion experience know that the final protestant congregation to which I belonged (a fundamentalist denomination called “Calvary Chapel”) practically drove me into the arms of the Church by its casual neglect of communion. Though some of my reaction was driven by my experiences and education as described above, a lot of it was based on Scripture as well. And after my family and I joined the Catholic Church, I came to understand just how Scriptural the centrality of the Eucharist was.

Jesus Says…
To explain why I accepted the real presence as a protestant, the best place to begin is John chapter 6, a reference that anyone familiar with the “real presence” will quickly recognize. This passage starts out with a miracle:

After these things Jesus went over the Sea of Galilee, which is the Sea of Tiberias. Then a great multitude followed Him, because they saw His signs which He performed on those who were diseased. And Jesus went up on the mountain, and there He sat with His disciples. Now the Passover, a feast of the Jews, was near. Then Jesus lifted up His eyes, and seeing a great multitude coming toward Him, He said to Philip, "Where shall we buy bread, that these may eat?" But this He said to test him, for He Himself knew what He would do. Philip answered Him, "Two hundred denarii worth of bread is not sufficient for them, that every one of them may have a little." One of His disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter's brother, said to Him, "There is a lad here who has five barley loaves and two small fish, but what are they among so many?" Then Jesus said, "Make the people sit down." Now there was much grass in the place. So the men sat down, in number about five thousand. And Jesus took the loaves, and when He had given thanks He distributed them to the disciples, and the disciples to those sitting down; and likewise of the fish, as much as they wanted. So when they were filled, He said to His disciples, "Gather up the fragments that remain, so that nothing is lost." Therefore they gathered them up, and filled twelve baskets with the fragments of the five barley loaves which were left over by those who had eaten. Then those men, when they had seen the sign that Jesus did, said, "This is truly the Prophet who is to come into the world." John 6:1-14.

Most Bibles break up the Scriptures into discreet parts with little labels that give the general idea of what follows, and this passage is no different in the various versions of the Bible that I own. Unfortunately, these general ideas often miss the mark by a wide margin and frequently contribute to a failure of holistic Scripture reading. In this case, the miracle of the bread and the fish is critical to what follows—the next day, the people sought after Christ because of the bread that he had fed them. When Jesus warned them not to seek after bread that spoils they challenged him with the fact that Moses had “produced” bread in the desert for forty years. Jesus then does the unthinkable, promising to work a greater wonder than even Moses had performed. He explained himself to the incredulous audience:

Most assuredly, I say to you, he who believes in Me has everlasting life. I am the bread of life. Your fathers ate the manna in the wilderness, and are dead. This is the bread which comes down from heaven, that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world." The Jews therefore quarreled among themselves, saying, "How can this Man give us His flesh to eat?" Then Jesus said to them, "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats My flesh and drinks My blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For My flesh is food indeed, and My blood is drink indeed. He who eats My flesh and drinks My blood abides in Me, and I in him. As the living Father sent Me, and I live because of the Father, so he who feeds on Me will live because of Me. This is the bread which came down from heaven--not as your fathers ate the manna, and are dead. He who eats this bread will live forever." These things He said in the synagogue as He taught in Capernaum. Therefore many of His disciples, when they heard this, said, "This is a hard saying; who can understand it?" When Jesus knew in Himself that His disciples complained about this, He said to them, "Does this offend you? What then if you should see the Son of Man ascend where He was before? It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing. The words that I speak to you are spirit, and they are life. But there are some of you who do not believe." For Jesus knew from the beginning who they were who did not believe, and who would betray Him. And He said, "Therefore I have said to you that no one can come to Me unless it has been granted to him by My Father." From that time many of His disciples went back and walked with Him no more. John 6:47-66.

There are a couple of key points that jump out of this passage, even to a protestant (bear in mind that a great many protestants accept the notion of the “real presence”). First, John is making a connection between the miracle of the fishes and the loaves and Jesus’ teaching on the “bread of life”. Christ takes an insignificant amount of bread (his body) and an insignificant amount of fish (his disciples; think “fishers of men”!), and causes them to miraculously increase far beyond what is necessary to satisfy his audience. Now those who reject the real presence will say that this infinite increase of the bread simply represents the spiritual sufficiency of Christ’s death for all men in all time; then the speech about eating his flesh and blood simply means to satisfy oneself with the sufficiency of his sacrifice. And this is partly correct. But there is something considerably deeper to this passage that such a casual brush off misses entirely. Remember, in the miracle the bread itself is increased thousands of times over. Consider that if the only significance was the spiritual satisfaction, Jesus could have simply given everyone in the audience a tiny sliver of bread that would have miraculously filled them. Instead, he chose the added symbolism of the physical multiplication of the bread. There must be significance in this fact. Moreover, if we construe the multiplication of the fish to be the multiplication of his disciples, think about how literal this representation was. We would not say that this miracle pre-figured the increase in the disciples’ spirituality. Rather it represents an increase in their number, to the point that there have now lived billions of Christians over the last two millennia. Thus, the feeding of the five thousand must be interpreted (at least in John’s recitation) as the multiplication of Christ’s physical body, which Christ then makes explicit by telling his disciples they must eat his flesh. If one is tempted to think I am making too much of this particular miracle, consider that Matthew and Mark record that Jesus performed this miracle not once, but twice, the latter time for four thousand people. Matt. 14:15-21, 15:32-38; Mark 6:35-44, 8:1-9.

The only place where this multiplication of Christ’s body continues to find fulfillment is in the Catholic and Orthodox churches (and imperfectly in the Lutheran, Anglican, and Episcopalian as well). Millions of pounds of bread and gallons of wine transforming (or joining) to the body and blood of Jesus Christ. One man’s insignificant body multiplied a billion times over through the past 2000 years. Whether one is a Catholic, Orthodox, or protestant, this is like witnessing the fishes and loaves miracle all over again!!

The other critical and obvious point is the forcefulness of Christ’s literalism. Certainly Jesus had used metaphors and similes in the past. But consider that the miracle would have been the metaphor in this case. The next day would have represented Christ’s opportunity to explain the miracle, much like he often did with the parables after having spoken them. And Jesus’ explanation turns out to be quite the shocker. He tells the crowd he can feed all of them with bread that will cause them to live forever. The oblique reference to his body in the miracle is now made explicit. In fact, he calls himself and his flesh the “bread” over ten times in verses 33, 35, 48, 50, 51, 53, 54, 55, 56, and 58. More to the point, he instructs the disciples to “eat” his flesh and “drink” his blood not less than seven times in those verses. This is quite a graphic picture. And then, seemingly in anticipation of the rejection of the Eucharist by so many, he makes himself even more explicit. His disciples were infuriated by his cannibalistic teaching and essentially asked him to clarify the matter: “how can this man give us his flesh to eat?” But instead of telling them that he is speaking metaphorically, Jesus does exactly the opposite: “For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink.” John 6:55 (NIV). Then, aware that many would leave him over this teaching, Jesus not only doesn’t say “wait, you’ve misunderstood!”; he essentially says, “fine, go ahead and leave.” And so, a great many of them did in fact leave. From all of this, even as a protestant I could understand that Jesus was not speaking metaphorically.

This literalism is also presented when the sacrament is actually instituted by Christ. Of the four Gospels that record the feeding of the five thousand, only John recalls the episode regarding Christ’s command to eat his flesh. Yet the exact opposite is true regarding the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. It is almost as if each Gospel writer knew that the institution of the Eucharist had to be recorded, but John elected to record an instance where Jesus predicted the institution rather than the instance of the institution itself. In any case, the other three Gospels are equally adamant regarding the literalism of the body and blood:

And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to the disciples and said, "Take, eat; this is My body." Then He took the cup, and gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you. For this is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many for the remission of sins. Matthew 26:26-28.

And as they were eating, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them and said, "Take, eat; this is My body." Then He took the cup, and when He had given thanks He gave it to them, and they all drank from it. And He said to them, "This is My blood of the new covenant, which is shed for many. Mark 14:22-24.

Then he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them, saying “This is my body, which will be given for you; do this in memory of me.” And likewise the cup after they had eaten saying, “This is the new covenant in my blood, which will be shed for you.” Luke 22:19-20.

In every example, each author records that Jesus stated “This is my body” or “This is my blood.” Nothing metaphorical about that. And Jesus certainly knew how to use similes, such as when he would say, “The kingdom of heaven is like a . . .” But in this instance he did not say “this is like my body”. Nor was Jesus using the meal as some convenient form of symbolism. Notice that the institution of the Eucharist occurred separately from the passover meal. (Incidentally, the word “Eucharist” is Greek for “thanksgiving”, which is the word applied to communion by the early Church because of the fact that Christ gave thanks for the bread and wine during consecration, and we all give thanks to God for the transformation of the elements.) Moreover, later in these passages, Jesus commands that this event be reenacted until he returned. See also, I Cor. 11:25-26. Thus, here we have something that is far more significant than a parable, an allegory, an analogy, a metaphor, or a symbol. This is Christ’s body and blood presented to his disciples in a way that must be reenacted. Additionally, if this was just a symbol, not even all that necessary or relevant to church life as so many evangelical churches would have it, why would John’s account have an extraordinary lengthy chapter dedicated exclusively to the prediction of communion (no one can seriously argue that John’s account is not about communion, regardless of whether one accepts the real presence). Put the four accounts of the Gospels together, and we have a powerful presentation of the Eucharist as the literal body and blood of Christ, a critical element of early Church life. But don’t take my word for it—the Scriptures themselves talk about the importance of the Eucharist in early Church life.

Scriptural References to the Eucharist in the Early Church
The first example of the “real presence” in the Church actually occurs immediately after the resurrection, before the Church was even technically born. After Jesus had appeared to some of the women at the tomb, but before he had appeared to any of the twelve apostles, Jesus was walking along the road to Emmaus and joined two of his disciples (not apostles) on the journey. The disciples did not recognize his resurrected body, but welcomed his company. As they conversed, the disciples relayed the story of the resurrection, which they had been told by the women. Jesus then began to explain all of the Scripture to them, showing them how Scripture had prophesied regarding Christ. (They still did not recognize him.) The rest of the story follows:

Then they drew near to the village where they were going, and He indicated that He would have gone farther. But they constrained Him, saying, "Abide with us, for it is toward evening, and the day is far spent." And He went in to stay with them. And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they knew Him; and He vanished from their sight. And they said to one another, "Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?" So they rose up that very hour and returned to Jerusalem, and found the eleven and those who were with them gathered together, saying, "The Lord is risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon!" And they told about the things that had happened on the road, and how He was known to them in the breaking of bread. Luke 24:28-35.

This account cannot really make any sense if one does not believe in the real presence. First, why would the breaking of bread cause them to recognize Jesus? It certainly could not have been that they suddenly remembered the Last Supper, and then “it hit them!” These disciples were not even present at the Last Supper. And in any case, Christ’s teaching on the Scriptures, which caused their “hearts to burn within them”, would have done more than anything to wake them up to the fact that this was their Lord. But no! It was only in the “breaking of bread.” Second, Luke does not say that they recognized him during or after the breaking of bread. Instead, they recognized him in the breaking of bread. In other words, the breaking of the bread does not mark the moment in time at which they recognized him. Instead, it marks the medium through which they saw him. It was this eucharistic action and the body of Christ itself, that revealed Jesus to them. And when they told the apostles, they specifically recalled that their recognition of Christ was only in the breaking of bread. Third, notice how closely the action of Christ parallels the Last Supper. In fact, Luke uses the exact same language: “he took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them.” Luke 22:19, 24:30. Word for word, this portion of the two verses is identical. No way is this a coincidence. Jesus recreates the same thing he did at the Last Supper (remember, that time when he said this is my body), and in doing so, the disciples who did not previously recognize him suddenly do recognize him. In short, this is a slam dunk for the real presence.

Nonetheless, Scripture continues to make the point. The main book of the Bible that describes the life of the early Church is Acts. For those not familiar with the history of the Bible, Acts is more properly called “Luke Part Two”. Luke actually wrote his Gospel and the Book of Acts at the same time as a sort of two part series on the history of Christianity. (He writes these works to the excellent “Theophilus”, Greek for “God-lover”, leading many to believe that Luke was writing not to a real person, but to all the faithful who love God.) In any event, as you read these passages from Acts, think back to Luke’s account of the Last Supper and the road to Emmaus.

And they continued steadfastly in the apostles' doctrine and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers. Then fear came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were done through the apostles. Now all who believed were together, and had all things in common, and sold their possessions and goods, and divided them among all, as anyone had need. So continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house, they ate their food with gladness and simplicity of heart, praising God and having favor with all the people. Acts 2:42-47a.

The most remarkable portion of the first passage is not that the believers broke bread, but rather that they “dedicated” themselves to it. This cannot simply mean that the believers dedicated themselves to having a meal with one another. Certainly that is a wonderful thing. But why would Christians dedicate themselves to eating together. Besides, even if that were the proper interpretation, no Christian group in the world (except perhaps monks, nuns, and the Amish) is all that focused on sharing dinner with one another. But think about the things that the breaking of the bread is counted among: prayer, fellowship, and the teachings of the apostles (for protestants, that means the Bible). Now these three things are collectively three of the most important aspects of Christian life. So to be included in that company, “the breaking of bread” must also be an exceedingly important aspect of Christian life. So important, that all Christians should dedicate their very lives to it. I love dinnertime as much as the next portly fellow, but somehow this just doesn’t fit the bill!

The second passage is notable because of the fact that the gathering for the “breaking of bread” is on the first day of the week (i.e. Sunday). St. John called Sunday “the Lord’s day”. Rev. 1:10. In other words, the second passage is referring to what protestants call “church service”. But notice that in the early Church, Luke doesn’t say that they gathered together for a great sermon, an inspiring worship team, or great youth programs. Nope, just for the “breaking of bread”. Now Luke notes that on this particular occasion it was Paul who gave the homily (i.e. sermon), but Luke practically takes it for granted that his readers would understand that the purpose of the gathering was for the breaking of bread. This is the essence of the Catholic mass. And, of course, in each case, Luke refers to the event as the “breaking of bread”, just as he did at the Last Supper and with the disciples on the road to Emmaus. So, both references must be tied to Christ’s body and blood and the recognition of Christ in the divine meal.

Paul himself speaks of the importance of the Eucharist:

The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf. I Cor. 10:16-17.

This passage is packed with significance. First, as with Luke, Paul does not describe the specifics of the mass (i.e. the practice of the institution of the Eucharist or “the breaking of bread”). Instead, he assumes that his reader has knowledge of these background issues. Keep in mind that Scripture was not written as an exhaustive encyclopedia on Christianity. Instead, Paul is focused on stressing the importance of the Eucharist. As he describes it, the wine and bread are not simply symbols, but the actual participation in the body and blood of Christ. Moreover, the physical participation in the elements, which constitute the body and blood, then bind all Christians together in unity, since all have eaten of the same body. (The significance of ingesting Christ’s blood is discussed in more detail below).

In spite of this beautiful gift of the Eucharist, from the beginning, the members of the body had problems recognizing its importance. Perhaps this happened for the same reason it happens today in the Catholic Church: routine breeds irreverence. They began to take it for granted. Whatever the reason, the Corinthians were so abusing the Eucharist, consuming it as if it were meant to satisfy their physical hunger, that it prompted a sharp response from St. Paul.

For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you: that the Lord Jesus on the same night in which He was betrayed took bread; and when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, "Take, eat; this is My body which is broken for you; do this in remembrance of Me." In the same manner He also took the cup after supper, saying, "This cup is the new covenant in My blood. This do, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of Me." For as often as you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death till He comes. Therefore whoever eats this bread or drinks this cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord. But let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For he who eats and drinks in an unworthy manner eats and drinks judgment to himself, not discerning the Lord's body. For this reason many are weak and sick among you, and many sleep. I Cor. 11:23-30

In spite of the overwhelming Scriptural proof of the real presence laid out above, it is this passage that most thoroughly convinced me of the real presence. After recounting the Last Supper, Paul completely shatters any illusion that communion is just symbolic: to take communion improperly is to commit a sin against Christ’s very body and blood. And not just any sin, but one that brings judgment upon one’s soul and illness or death upon one’s body. And the context in which Paul is speaking is not some abstract reference to communion, but an ominous warning on not taking communion lightly. Simply put: don’t mess around with the Eucharist!

To summarize the Scriptural evidence regarding the fact that the Eucharist is the body and blood of Christ, Jesus says this is my body and blood, commands that his disciples eat his flesh, commands that future generations do the same, and allows his disciples to recognize him in the consecrated bread, his disciples dedicate themselves to the Eucharist and celebrate it every Sunday, and Paul declares that participation in the Eucharist is participation in the body and blood of Christ and that doing it improperly is a grave sin. In fact, there is not a single passage regarding the Eucharist where the connection to the body and blood of Christ is presented in a symbolic capacity. Yet some Christians still insist that this is some sort of metaphor. Two questions should be asked about this persistent disbelief. First, how could the Scriptures possibly have been clearer that the Eucharist is the literal body and blood of Christ? If one does not believe based on what the Scripture already says, there is nothing that Scripture could say that would have caused unbelievers to accept the real presence. And this raises the second question: what is motivating protestant brothers and sisters to reject the incredible gift of the real presence?

The Gnostic Problem
One possible explanation for persistent disbelief is simple misinterpretation of certain Scriptural cues. After all, in the John Chapter 6 passage, Jesus does state that eternal life depends upon belief in him at least five times in verses 29, 35, 40, 45, and 47. Thus, perhaps eating Christ’s flesh was just a metaphor for believing in him. But this convenient interpretation simply will not do. For one thing, there are numerous problems with the grammar, demonstrating that Jesus is speaking of two distinct concepts (belief in him and eating his flesh). But more to the point, there is nothing in Jesus’ words, nor in Catholic dogma for that matter, that makes belief in Christ and eating Christ’s flesh mutually exclusive. Despite being two different things, they can logically both be equally necessary and totally complimentary. No one would argue that reception of the Eucharist is sufficient to guarantee heaven; as St. Paul just stated, it can have the exact opposite effect. Thus, the fact that Jesus talks about believing in him cannot cause us to ignore the forceful literalism of his words regarding the consumption of his flesh. Finally, John 6 is just one of more than a half dozen passages referencing the real presence, and none of the other passages can be qualified in this fashion. So what is driving the rejection of Christ’s body and blood?

I believe that the rejection is not caused by some particular Scripture, but rather by the theological framework from which evangelicals and fundamentalists approach Christianity. This framework can be summarized (though not justified) by the John 6 passage where Jesus says in verse 63: “The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you are spirit and they are life.” (NIV) The main point for most protestants is this: “the flesh counts for nothing.” The implications of this point are radical. So radical, in fact, that this very sentiment gave rise to the first major heresy of the early church—gnosticism.

Among other beliefs, Gnostics held that the body was inherently evil. Only the spirit was or could be holy. Gnostics frequently cited Paul’s writings in Romans for support. Evangelicals and fundamentalists share something in common with the Gnostics. Generally speaking, they believe that earthly life is relatively unimportant. Certainly there is good and bad in the world, but ultimately all that matters is what happens to your soul. If something is not directed at the spirit, it has little if any value. And conversely, anything directed at the flesh is of little or no value. By contrast, Catholic theology accepts the high importance of both the flesh and the spirit. I have often heard protestants refer to dead bodies as “empty shells”. The important part is gone. On this last aspect of such modern gnosticism, a great deal is shared with its ancient predecessor.

Consider that when the universal Church rejected the Gnostic heresy, one of the most important examples of disagreement was over the issue of whether the resurrection would be one of spirit only or spirit and flesh. The Church adopted the Apostles Creed, which was purported to have been written by the apostles, but was more likely written by the Church around 120 A.D. After the standard affirmations of the Father and Son, it states, “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” In other words, so important is the flesh that we will continue to exist “enfleshed” for all eternity (just as Jesus himself was enfleshed upon his resurrection).

The Church’s affirmation of the importance of the flesh was not some arbitrary decision of a functionary committee; it was completely Scriptural. Consider Christ’s own incarnation. If flesh were so worthless, why would he have become a man at all? Why suffer the physical pain of the crucifixion? And even if he had to do that, why not just show up on earth as a grown man (like angels sometimes do), rather than be conceived, born, and grow to a man? I am ashamed to say that as a protestant, I rarely if ever gave consideration to the incarnation. Sure, it was great—that’s what Christmas was for. But for Catholics (which now includes me), this is one of the most profound aspects of the Christian faith. The Rosary is designed to induce deep meditation on the incarnation. It is radical in its implications; if God himself elected to become a fleshly being and then to live as one for all eternity, the importance of the flesh cannot be overestimated. Think about it: we will all have a body from now through all eternity. A great deal more could and should be said on this point. I believe that this issue, though rarely discussed, represents perhaps the largest gap between Catholic Christianity and protestantism. Unfortunately, that is another article entirely (or book!) Suffice to say, for protestants reading this who insist that the Eucharis is not the body and blood of Christ, consider what is motivating your resistance. No protestant could ever say that the Bible teaches against the real presence. It just isn’t in there. So the only thing that protestants can and do say is that Scripture does not clearly support the real presence. Given the passages cited above, that is a highly dubious proposition. But even if Scripture were not clear, why adopt such an entrenched opposition to the real presence, especially given the undeniable fact that the early Church (see below) accepted it completely? If you are part of this entrenched opposition, take a moment to answer this question for yourself.

Going back to the passage mentioned at the beginning, what did Christ mean when he said “the flesh counts for nothing”? Well, Christ was responding to the revulsion his disciples exhibited towards his “cannibalistic” teaching. This revulsion was rooted in Jewish law. When God first permitted man to eat meat, He stated, “But you must not eat meat that has its lifeblood still in it.” Genesis 9:4. At several points in the Old Testament, God commanded the Jews not to drink blood or eat meat with blood in it. Lev. 7:26-27, 17:10-14 (“the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement . . .; it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life. . . . ‘None of you may eat blood . . . .’”), 19:26; Deut. 12:23-25 (“be sure you do not eat the blood, because the blood is the life, and you must not eat the life with the meat.”), 15:23; I Sam. 14:31-34. So important was this teaching that the prohibition was retained even for Christian Gentiles at the Council of Jerusalem: “[W]e should write to them, telling them to abstain from . . . the meat of strangled animals. . . . ‘To the Gentile believers in Antioch, Syria, and Cicilia: . . . You are to abstain from blood, [and] from the meat of strangled animals.’” Acts 15:20-29. So two things are evident: first, that flesh (or at least blood) was indeed quite important, and second, that partaking in the blood of another living thing was forbidden because to do so was to literally take on the life of the animal whose blood was consumed.

What the disciples in John 6 did not understand was that Christ was to be the sacrifice par excellence. To start, his sacrifice would be infinite, performed once for all time and for all people. The single moment of the crucifixion would be sufficient to atone for all of the sins in the world, past, present and future. The sacrifice would be infinite also in the sense that it would be recreated over and over again until his return. But moving past (or perhaps deeper into) the sacrificial significance of Christ’s blood, there is the beautiful reality that Christ’s blood is united to his divine soul. Unlike the “life” of the animal, which is base, barbaric, and imperfect, the “life” of Christ is beatific, divine, and perfect. Thus, Christ invites his followers to partake not only of the atonement offered by his blood, but also to partake of the blood itself, thus uniting the believer to Christ, and hence to the beatific vision. And recall Paul’s admonition in I Cor. 10:17 that participation in the bread and wine unites us to Christ, and when we are all united to Christ, we are all united to one another because it is Christ who lives through us.

The Jews were blinded to this reality by their singular view of Christ as a human, rather than an understanding of the miraculous union between humanity and divinity. They were thinking in a strictly carnal fashion, rather than seeing the importance of the spirit. The prohibition on consuming blood was always connected to the concept that one must not consume the “life” of the animal. But here was Jesus, offering his disciples to become partakers of the divine life. This was a “life” (carried in the blood) that could never be fully consumed, because it is infinite. But those who turned away could not look any further than the flesh and blood. If only they had seen that Christ’s flesh and blood were united with his divine Spirit. “The Spirit gives life.” Those who remained, the same few who prohibited the consumption of animal blood during the Jerusalem Council, recognized that life was transmitted through the blood (a fact that has now been scientifically proven!), and also recognized that Christ’s was no ordinary life. This was a life that could be consumed infinitely by all who hungered for unity with the divine. And Jesus had the perfect method for making this consumption physically possible.

As for those who reject the real presence based largely on pre-conceived theology that Christianity is a religion of spirit to the exclusion of matter (e.g. flesh), consider the importance of actual, physical blood throughout the Scripture, Old and New Testament alike. Consider too the importance of the incarnation. But mostly consider that personal theologies must give way to the truth of God’s Word.

The Christians of the Early Church
Despite common protestant suspicion of the saints of the early Church (a rather bizarre suspicion if I may editorialize), it would be irresponsible not to offer something of what the most well-respected fathers taught. At the top of the list is St. Ignatius of Antioch. For those not familiar with Ignatius, he was a disciple of the Apostle John. He became the bishop of Antioch, which was the most influential Church in the world aside from Rome itself. Ignatius is the earliest prolific writer that existed in the post-apostolic age. Thus, his writings contain the most ancient example of what the Church taught and believed after the apostles had died. Apparently rejection of the real presence was a problem that entered the Church pretty quickly, because Ignatius wrote the following in 110 AD:

Take note of those who hold heterodox opinions on the grace of Jesus Christ which has come to us, and see how contrary their opinions are to the mind of God. . . . They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer because they do not confess that the Eucharist is the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ, flesh which suffered for our sins and which that Father, in his goodness, raised up again. They who deny the gift of God are perishing in their disputes." Letter to the Smyrnaeans 6:2–7:1.

Notice, they abstained from the Eucharist because they did not believe that the bread was the flesh of Christ. That is precisely what evangelicals and fundamentalists do. This practice was condemned by the most authoritative Christian following the apostles. And it is no more acceptable today than it was then.

Forty years later, the venerable St. Justin Martyr (whose name was earned at the cost of his own blood) made the following remark:

We call this food Eucharist, and no one else is permitted to partake of it, except one who believes our teaching to be true and who has been washed in the washing which is for the remission of sins and for regeneration and is thereby living as Christ enjoined. For not as common bread nor common drink do we receive these; but since Jesus Christ our Savior was made incarnate by the word of God and had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so too, as we have been taught, the food which has been made into the Eucharist by the Eucharistic prayer set down by him, and by the change of which our blood and flesh is nurtured, is both the flesh and the blood of that incarnated Jesus. First Apology 66.

Another forty years after that, a third generation Christian, St. Irenaeus of Lyons, wrote on this topic. Irenaeus was a disciple of St. Polycarp, the bishop of Smyrna, who was in turn a disciple of St. John (who had ordained Polycarp as bishop). Irenaeus commented:

He has declared the cup, a part of creation, to be his own blood, from which he causes our blood to flow; and the bread, a part of creation, he has established as his own body, from which he gives increase unto our bodies. When, therefore, the mixed cup [wine and water] and the baked bread receives the Word of God and becomes the Eucharist, the body of Christ, and from these the substance of our flesh is increased and supported, how can they say that the flesh is not capable of receiving the gift of God, which is eternal life—flesh which is nourished by the body and blood of the Lord, and is in fact a member of him? Against Heresies 5:2.

Finally, two hundred years later the Church was still teaching the same doctrine. St. John Chrysostom, the bishop of Constantinople who died in exile as a result of his adherence to the Word of God, writing circa 390 AD states the following in his sermon on I Corinthians:

[Paul saith] "The cup of blessing which we bless, is it not a communion of the Blood of Christ?". Very persuasively spake he, and awfully. For what he says is this: "This which is in the cup is that which flowed from His side, and of that do we partake." But he called it a cup of blessing, because holding it in our hands, we so exalt Him in our hymn, wondering, astonished at His unspeakable gift, blessing Him, among other things, for the pouring out of this self-same draught that we might not abide in error: and not only for the pouring it out, but also for the imparting thereof to us all. On I Cor. 10:16.

This is but a tiny sampling of the church fathers’ writings on the real presence. The point of all this is simple. The Old Testament testifies to the necessity of the real presence. Jesus testifies to the literalism of the real presence. The apostles testify to the importance of the real presence. And the early Church fathers testify to the continued adherence to the real presence. The real presence does nothing to denigrate the spiritual realities that accompany reception of the Eucharist. Quite the contrary, as a sacrament, the Eucharist makes Christ’s spiritual reality fully present with us in the physical world. So why in Heaven’s name would anyone calling himself or herself a Christian deny this heart-stopping and miraculous gift?

In Christ,
Dave