This article was first published in The Furrow, 2005, September, pp. 464-471. It is the text of a reflection given during a Eucharistic Adoration evening for the Widnes Pastoral Area.
Pope John Paul II’s beautiful and challenging Millennium reflections on a ‘spirituality of communion’ are an appropriate way to begin this meditation on the Eucharist and Unity (Novo Millennio Ineunte – NMI):
A spirituality of communion indicates above all the heart’s contemplation of the mystery of the Trinity dwelling in us, and whose light we must also be able to see shining on the face of the brothers and sisters around us.
A spirituality of communion also means an ability to think of our brothers and sisters in faith within the profound unity of the Mystical Body, and therefore as ‘those who are part of me’. This makes us able to share their joys and sufferings, to sense their desires and attend to their needs, to offer them deep and genuine friendship (no. 43).
If we have truly started out anew from the contemplation of Christ, we must learn to see him especially in the faces of those with whom he himself wished to be identified: ‘I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me’ (Mt 25:35-37). This Gospel text is … a page of Christology which sheds light on the mystery of Christ. By these words, no less than by the orthodoxy of her doctrine, the Church measures her fidelity as the Bride of Christ. Certainly … no one can be excluded from our love, since ‘through his Incarnation the Son of God has united himself in some fashion with every person’ (no. 49).
Christ Himself is the Sacrament of Unity. He came to reconcile us to God and to each other. He gave his followers, the Church, the role of continuing this mission – ‘As the Father has sent me, so am I sending you’. Therefore, the Church is a Sacrament of Unity. This is basic to the thinking of Vatican II, thinking which John Paul II described as ‘the great grace bestowed on the Church in the twentieth century’ (NMI, p. 57). Vatican II repeats frequently that ‘the Church, in Christ, is a sacrament, that is a sign and instrument, of communion with God and of the unity of the entire human race’ (LG, no. 1). John Paul is his Encyclical on the Eucharist (Ecclesia de Eucharistia – EE) describes the Church as ‘a “sacrament” for humanity’ (no. 22).
As ‘source and summit’ of the Church’s life, the Eucharist itself is essentially a Sacrament of Unity. John Paul says: ‘In the sacrament of the Eucharistic bread, the unity of the faithful, who form one body in Christ, is both expressed and brought about’ (EE no. 21). It is interesting to note that he sees the Eucharist not just as an ‘expression’ of unity achieved, but also as a means for ‘bringing about’ unity. In fact, two paragraphs later he actually speaks of the ‘unifying power of sharing in the Eucharist’ (EE no. 23).
In a very real sense, celebration of the Eucharist is a continuation of the table-fellowship of Jesus. One writer describes Jesus’ table-fellowship as ‘communion-making’ and ‘boundary-breaking’ (cf. Pierre Simson, Do this in memory of me: ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them’, Dublin, Dominican Publications, 2003, p. 43).
Certainly, it was a table-fellowship which scandalized the religious leaders of Jesus’ day. In fact, it was one of the key reasons for their plotting to kill him. It went against their belief in a God of strict boundaries – boundaries defined by the Law and the Sabbath observance and boundaries which Jesus rejected in the name of a God without boundaries: ‘The Sabbath is made for man, not man for the Sabbath.’ The only true image of the God of Jesus was the human person – and in a special and unique way, Jesus himself, God made flesh. John Paul II is making the same point in his ‘Spirituality of Communion’ quoted above.
Today, when people speak of the ‘Real Presence’ they normally mean the sacramental presence of Christ in the Eucharist under the form of bread and wine. And when they speak of the ‘Mystical Body’, they normally mean the Church. For more than half of the Church’s history – that is, until the twelfth century – the very opposite was true.
The ‘real’ body of Christ was the Church. And the ‘mystical’ body of Christ was the sacramental bread and wine. We can see this usage in operation in the passage from St John Chrysostom which John Paul quotes in his Encyclical on the Eucharist:
Do you wish to honour the body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: ‘This is my body’ is the same who said: ‘You saw me hungry and you gave me no food’, and ‘Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also to me’ … What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with golden chalices when your brother is dying of hunger. Start by satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well. (EE no. 20, footnote 34).
Some unhealthy consequences flowed from this change of language in the twelfth century. As Sarah Beckwith puts it: ‘The emphasis was increasingly on watching Christ’s body, rather than being incorporated into it’ (quoted in William T. Cavanaugh, Torture & Eucharist, Oxford, Blackwell, 1998, p. 213). People ‘attended’ Mass, rather than ‘participated’ in it. It was something to be ‘present at’, rather than an ‘action to be shared’.
Vatican II’s approach to the Liturgy, by drawing renewed inspiration from that older and richer tradition, empowered the Pilgrim Church to move forward so as to be able to face the signs of the times in our modern world. The key principle Vatican II stated to guide all liturgical practice was:
The full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit (Constitution on the Liturgy, no. 14).
The Mass is not ‘my’ Mass (i.e. not the priest’s) but ‘our’ Mass. We celebrate together, each participating in our own different ways. The Mass is not a place for spectators or observers.
Whenever I dealt with First Communion children, one key point I liked to make was the richness of their response, ‘Amen’, when the priest holds up the host and says, ‘The Body of Christ’. The child’s ‘Amen’ (‘Yes, I believe’) is not just saying, ‘Yes, I am truly receiving Christ in this host.’ It is also saying ‘Yes, I am the body of Christ.’ And it is saying, ‘Yes, we, all of us here sharing in this Eucharist, are the body of Christ’. And it is saying ‘Yes, all people, especially those in need, are the body of Christ’. In a sense, in this act of committed faith, the child is ‘re-membering’ the body of Christ, i.e. drawing together into unity the members of Christ’s body. Obviously, this rings bells – whole peals of them – with John Paul’s words about the ‘spirituality of communion’.
Eucharistic Devotion & Adoration
Reservation of the Blessed Sacrament began from the needs of the sick and the housebound. They could not be present at the community’s celebration of the Eucharist, so, in a sense, the Eucharist had to come to them. To enable this to happen, the consecrated bread and wine began to be reserved in a sacred place. This eventually gave rise to the practice of Eucharistic devotion outside of the celebration of Mass. It is important to remember that this practice did not initially develop independently of the community’s celebration, but more as a kind of extension of that celebration. Its purpose was to enable the sick and housebound to participate in the Eucharist.
The Church today is keen that Eucharistic adoration continues to be rooted in some way to the community’s celebration of the Eucharist.
We do not adore a static presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. It is a sacramental presence – under the form of bread and wine. That speaks of a nourishing and, dare one say it, an inebriating presence – giving us strength and vitality and setting our hearts on fire. Christ is our food and drink. The bread and wine also speak of Christ’s body broken for us, his blood poured out for us. Some hymns seem to suggest that the presence of Christ is ‘hidden’ or ‘concealed’ under the sacramental form. Traditional sacramental theology would say the exact opposite. Under the form of bread and wine the living and life-giving presence of Christ is ‘revealed’ to us. That is why the actual eating and drinking are so significant sacramentally. Communion under the form of both bread and wine should be taken for granted, rather than be exceptional or occasional.
Some earlier prayers spoke of Jesus as being ‘lonely’ in the tabernacle. That is sheer heresy. How can Christ be lonely, enfolded as he is within the life and love of his Father and the Holy Spirit? The only loneliness Jesus feels is the loneliness of the lonely people in our midst and in our world. Part of the nourishment he wants to share with us is to empower, encourage and inspire us to bring love and comfort to those who are lonely around us. That is being true to the unifying power of the Eucharist.
The Emmaus disciples recognised Jesus in the breaking of bread, yet earlier their hearts had burned within them as he opened the scriptures to them. There is a unity in each Mass between the Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist. We break the word to deepen our faith in celebrating the Eucharist. It is the same Christ communicating with us in each. The Vatican II Constitution on Divine Revelation states this very strikingly:
The Church has always venerated the divine Scriptures just as she venerates the body of the Lord, since from the table of both the word of God and of the body of Christ she unceasingly receives and offers to the faithful the bread of life (no. 21).
Meditating on the weekday or Sunday readings and praying the scriptures deserves pride of place in our Eucharistic adoration. Eucharistic adoration is often something we do silently – even if together; but also something we may do on our own. Yet there should still be a ‘unity’ dimension about it, if the Eucharist is a sacrament of unity.
In St Basil’s, when it was too cold in Church, I often prayed in my upstairs sitting room. There was a TV there. On one occasion I was sitting in my chair praying, with the TV (the ‘box’) facing me, when suddenly the thought came to me. Through that ‘box’ all sorts of people come into my life in one way or another. This was very true over John Paul II’s final illness and death; also true during the terrible Tsunami disaster.
When St Basil’s Reception Class made their first visit to Church, I would get them to sit and look around and then invite them to ask me about anything they see. Invariably, some child would point to the tabernacle and ask: ‘What’s that box for?’
Much more profoundly than any TV, the Blessed Sacrament, venerated in that ‘box’, links us to our sisters and brothers even though they are far away in distance and or in time. Every Eucharist unites us with the adoration of the whole Communion of Saints and reminds us of our unity with our whole human family alive today. It is like a network transcending time and space.
This is also true of the whole of creation. In his encyclical on the Eucharist, Ecclesia de Eucharista, John Paul II says he has celebrated Mass in all sorts of places on his travels, yet he is always aware that even in the humblest of settings, Mass is still celebrated ‘on the altar of the world’ (EE, no. 8). This brings out its ‘cosmic character’. He is using the language here of Teilhard de Chardin, who wrote eloquently about evolution as God’s ongoing – and still continuing – work of creation. We humans alone have the privilege and honour of being able to praise and thank God in the name of the whole of creation. One of the 1998 ICEL Eucharistic prefaces, so scandalously ‘binned’ by the CDW (cf. previous essay), expresses this very beautifully:
In the beginning your Word summoned light;
night withdrew and creation dawned.
As ages passed unseen,
waters gathered on the face of the Earth
and life appeared.
When the times had at last grown full
and the earth had ripened in abundance,
you created in your image humankind,
the crown of all creation.
You gave us breath and speech,
that all the living might find a voice to sing your praise…
And the words of the ‘Holy, Holy’ after the Preface take up this theme: ‘Heaven and earth are full of your glory.’
Two Questions to ponder
Both of these questions are ones which John Paul II has answered in the negative. However, they are questions which will not go away. I suspect the Pope would not want them to. After all, in his Millennium encyclical (NMI, no. 56) he wrote: ‘The Church will never cease asking questions, trusting in the help of the Spirit of truth, whose task it is to guide her ‘in all the truth’ (Jn 16:13).
Moreover, they are questions many in the Church are asking. Hence, they need to be listened to and pondered. Again, John Paul has advice on this. After saying that Pastors should follow the ancient wise practice of ‘listening more widely to the entire people of God’, he goes on to quote St Paulinus of Nola: ‘Let us listen to what all the faithful say, because in every one of them the Spirit of God breathes’ (NMI no. 47).
To re-open these two questions is to suggest that the perhaps the Pope’s answer needs to be queried. Can we do that? Again, the Pope seems to encourage us when he writes that any healthy community needs legitimate disagreement. It should both allow such disagreement and allow it to be heard. Actually, John Paul II used stronger language – ‘justified opposition’, not just ‘legitimate disagreement’ (cf. The Acting Person, London, Reidel, jkm 1979, p. 287).
First question: Does the Church need to revisit the issue of ordaining married men – and ordaining women too?
Without the Eucharist, the Pope says that a Christian community’s situation is ‘distressing and irregular’ (EE no. 32). Incomplete solutions like Eucharistic Services should only be ‘temporary’. The Eucharist is essential: ‘No Christian community can be built up unless it has its basis and centre in the celebration of the most Holy Eucharist’ (EE no. 33). This question is considered again at the end of the following essay.
Second question: Does the Church need to revisit its restrictive law and practice with regard to inter-communion and Eucharistic sharing?
Our current practice of restricting reception of the Eucharist to Catholics (with some apparently grudging exceptions) seems to many to fly in the face of our deepest human instincts.
To invite someone to share our table and encourage him or her to share fully in all the companionship and table-talk and then deny that person any share in the meal itself would seem to be an extraordinary thing to do. All the more so when we are not actually the host at the table. And especially so when the host is notorious for welcoming everyone at his table and has actually caused scandal by the kind of company he keeps.
If the Church claims to be a sacrament of the unity of the human family, perhaps the Eucharist should not be a meal at which the presence of outsiders is tolerated within certain strict limits, but rather a meal at which their presence is treasured and accepted as a gift. Communion will then be more truly Communion. In an article in The Furrow, 2005, January, pp. 25-36, ‘’Eucharist and Violence’, I quoted the following challenging words from an unpublished paper by my friend, the late David Morland OSB:
Perhaps the power and fire the Eucharist contains as the breaking of the Lord’s body has to be thrown open to the world and all Christians so that no one is excluded who does not chose to be … Participation in the Eucharist would be the sowing of the seed of God’s presence rather than the affirmation of orthodox membership of the one, true Church. For Christians it would be the bread of pilgrims searching for unity rather than a celebration by the few of a unity they believe they already possess
(p. 35 – cf. p.272 for a fuller version of this quotation).
Conclusion
In his encyclical on the Eucharist (no. 6), the Pope uses the beautiful phrase, ‘eucharistic amazement’. At the end of the same paragraph, he links it to the disciples of the Emmaus road and says we can ‘re-live their experience, when their eyes were opened and they recognized him.’
This brings us full circle – back to the opening sentence of what John Paul II says about the ‘spirituality of communion’: ‘We must also be able to see the light of the Trinity shining on the face of the brothers and sisters around us.’
In his book, Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander (London, Sheldon Press, 1977 edition, p. 153), Thomas Merton described an experience in a supermarket where he became aware that all the people around him were loved by God and precious to God. If only we could always see each other through God’s eyes, he reflected. He continued: ‘I suppose the big problem would be that we would fall down and worship each other!’ – Eucharistic amazement! The Eucharist is an eye-opening experience. We begin to see each other, and the whole of life, differently.
At the same time, in the face of so much disunity and division, sharing in the Eucharist, the Sacrament of Unity, can be a scary, risky and disturbing experience. A good friend of mine, a Columban sister, who was living alone in a shanty town in Mindanao in the Philippines, once sent me a Christmas card with the greeting: ‘May the peace of Christ disturb you this Christmas.’ Maybe the Eucharist should disturb us each time we share in it!