J.R.R. Tolkien on Scandal, Faith, and the Eucharist

I was trawling the library the other day, and I came across The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter, with Christopher Tolkien (Houghton Mifflin, 1981). I happened by chance to open it up to a letter that Tolkien wrote to his son, Michael, on November 1 (All Saints Day), 1963 (pp. 337-339). It made me think of the clergy sex abuse scandal. It made me think about faith in light of such violations of trust by the predators, as well as the bishops and clergy who enabled them. It reminded me of how the Eucharist is where we should go to reflect, repent, and heal.


You speak of 'sagging faith', however. That is quite another matter. In the last resort faith is an act of will, inspired by love. Our love may be chilled and our will eroded by the spectacle of the shortcomings, folly, and even sins of the Church and its ministers, but I do not think that one who has once had faith goes back over the line for these reasons (least of all anyone with any historical knowledge). 'Scandal' at most is an occasion of temptation – as indecency is to lust, which it does not make but arouses. It is convenient because it tends to turn our eyes away from ourselves and our own faults to find a scapegoat. But the act of will of faith is not a single moment of final decision: it is a permanent indefinitely repeated act > state which must go on – so we pray for 'final perseverance'. The temptation to 'unbelief' (which really means rejection of Our Lord and His claims) is always there within us. Part of us longs to find an excuse for it outside us. The stronger the inner temptation the more readily and severely shall we be ‘scandalized’ by others. I think I am as sensitive as you (or any other Christian) to the scandals, both of clergy and laity. I have suffered grievously in my life from stupid, tired, dimmed, and even bad priests; but I now know enough about myself to be aware that I should not leave the church (which for me would mean leaving the allegiance of Our Lord) for any such reasons: I should leave because I did not believe, and should not believe anymore, even if I had never met anyone in orders who was not both wise and saintly. I should deny the Blessed Sacrament, that is: call our Lord a fraud to His face.

If He is a fraud and the Gospels fraudulent – that is: garbled accounts of a demented megalomaniac (which is the only alternative), then of course the spectacle exhibited by the Church (in the sense of clergy) in history and today is simply evidence of a gigantic fraud. If not, however, then this spectacle is alas! only what was to be expected: it began before the first Easter, and it does not affect faith at all – except that we may and should be deeply grieved. But we should grieve on our Lord's behalf and for Him, associating ourselves with the scandalized heirs not with the saints, not crying out that we cannot 'take' Judas Iscariot, or even the absurd & cowardly Simon Peter, or the silly women like James' mother, trying to push her sons.

It takes a fantastic will to unbelief to suppose that Jesus never really 'happened', and more to suppose that he did not say the things recorded all of him – so incapable of being ‘invented’ by anyone in the world at that time: such as ‘before Abraham came to be I am' (John viii). ‘He that hath seen me hath seen the Father’ (John ix); or the promulgation of the Blessed Sacrament in John v: ‘He that he eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood hath eternal life.’ We must therefore either believe in Him and in what he said and take the consequences; or reject him and take the consequences. I find it for myself difficult to believe that anyone who has ever been to Communion, even once, with at least a right intention, can ever again reject Him without grave blame. (However, He alone knows each unique soul and its circumstances.)

The only cure for sagging of fainting faith is Communion. Though always Itself, perfect and complete and inviolate, the Blessed Sacrament does not operate completely and once for all in any of us. Like the act of Faith it must be continuous and grow by exercise. Frequency is of the highest effect. Seven times a week is more nourishing than seven times at intervals. Also I can recommend this as an exercise (alas! only too easy to find opportunity for): make your communion in circumstances that affront your taste. Choose a snuffling or gabbling priest or a proud and vulgar friar; and a church full of the usual bourgeois crowd, ill-behaved children – from those who yell to those products of Catholic schools who the moment the tabernacle is opened sit back and yawn – open necked and dirty youths, women in trousers and often with hair both unkempt and uncovered. Go to Communion with them (and pray for them). It will be just the same (or better than that) as a Mass said beautifully by a visibly holy man, and shared by a few devout and decorous people (it could not be worse than the mess of the feeding of the 5000 – after which [Our] Lord propounding feeding that was to come.)

I myself am convinced by the Petrine claims, nor looking around the world does there seem much doubt which (if Christianity is true) is the True Church, the temple of the Spirit dying but living, corrupt but holy, self-reforming and a rearising. But for me that Church of which the Pope is the acknowledged head on earth has as chief claim that it is the one that has (and still does) ever defended the Blessed Sacrament, and given it most honor, and put it (as Christ plainly intended) in the prime place. ‘Feed my sheep’ was his last charge to St. Peter; and since his words are always first to be understood literally, I suppose them to refer primarily to the Bread of Life. It was against this that the W. European revolt (or Reformation) was really launched – the ‘blasphemous fable of the Mass’ – and faith/works a mere red herring. I suppose the greatest reform of our time was that carried out by St. Pius X: surpassing anything, however needed, that the Council will achieve. I wonder what state the church would now be but for it.

Tolkien's letter is a beautiful hymn to faith and the Eucharist, a sorrowful lament on scandal and sin. He reminds us that sin was present from the beginning of the Church, and it will remain with us until Christ's Second Coming. Just to be clear, the clergy sex abuse scandal has been a terrible, terrible scourge to the victims, and nothing, absolutely nothing can justify either the molestations or the cover-ups. When the media has spoken the truth (which, unfortunately, they have not always done), they have done a great service to the victims and to the Church. What Tolkien reminds us is that the Church is made up of sinners in need of redemption, reconciliation, and amendment; however, that does not negate the fact that the Church is Christ's church (not ours), His body, and that Who He is and what He said is truth itself. What these few but tremendously destructive priests did to the bodies of children and teenagers is a stark contrast to the body which Our Lord gave for us on the cross out of love--the body we receive in the Eucharist; the body which these same priests were ordained to act in the stead of, in persona Christi.

First Communion

(Pablo Picasso, First Communion, 1895/1896)

Today was my daughter's First Communion. It was a beautiful liturgy. My daughter already has a very deep devotion to Christ in the Eucharist through adoration, so it was very moving to see her partake in the ultimate intimacy of receiving Him. There was the usual party, and it was wonderful to celebrate with family and friends. There was the cleaning of the house, the buying of the dress and gifts. All these things were enjoyable, but it was also good to remind ourselves that they were merely accessories. The reason for this day is Christ and His love for us. I had no anticipation about how moving I would find this day, but both my wife and I cried a number of times. It is my prayer that for the rest of her earthly life my daughter will continue to receive Jesus in the Eucharist and grow in love for Him and His Church.

Gimme Shelter

I continue to think of the theme of shelter in the birth of Jesus. I wrote about this earlier today. I then began to think about different ways in which we give shelter to Jesus. Mary sheltered Jesus in her womb, which is why she is sometimes referred to as a "living tabernacle." Visiting Jesus in the tabernacle for Eucharistic adoration is another setting where Jesus is being sheltered. Of course, receiving Jesus in Holy Communion is a crucial way of sheltering Jesus. Yet another way that we give shelter to Jesus is through spiritual Communion, where we ask Jesus to come into our heart.

We must also not forget those fellow children of God who do not have shelter. Fr. Benedict Groeschel has a recording of the Rosary (The Rosary is a Place) where he meditates on the the Third Joyful Mystery, the Birth of Jesus, as a reflection on how Jesus came in poverty, and how we are to be moved to help those in need. We should be especially mindful of the homeless during this Christmas season. Not only was the Holy Family without a home at Jesus' birth, but they were refugees in Egypt as they sought to escape Herod's slaughter.

While I would not generally look to the Rolling Stones for spiritual inspiration, I find the title of their song, "Gimme Shelter," to be relevant here. Jesus is asking us to give Him shelter. How can we say no?

St. Louis Bertrand Parish - Louisville, KY

My wife and I spent the weekend in Louisville, KY. On Sunday, we went to mass at the Dominican parish, St. Louis Bertrand. It is a beautiful, Gothic-style church with amazing woodwork in the sanctuary. The parish website has some pictures of the church. I have posted one of those pictures above, although it does not do the sanctuary justice. St. Louis Bertrand Church made me think about how the surroudings of our worship matter. I like both modern and past architectural styles. God did not ordain Gothic architecture as the truest expression of faith in form, although it is certainly an important one. What matters in our worship spaces are at least the following aspects: 1) does the building express important truths of our faith (transcendence and immanence, for example), 2) is beauty used to reflect and glorify God, and 3) does the physical building help us to worship and grow closer to God. Sometimes going to different parishes helps us to pay more attention to how the building helps us to build up our faith and increase our fervor for God. The building matters. However, in the most beautiful parish church, cathedral, or basilica, the beauty of that space is but a dim reflection of the center of that church, of the Church, Jesus in the Eucharist residing in the tabernacle.

Is Christmas for Children?

Each year I hear at least one person say, "Christmas is for the children." Unfortunately, this view trivializes Christmas. Yes, Christmas is for children, as it is for all of humanity. But Christmas is so much more than presents. St. Paul reminds us that there are some things we outgrow: "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways" (1 Corinthians 13:11). Our faith, and our understanding of Christmas, must do the same.

Christmas is the comingling of the divine and the human. "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth; we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father" (John 1:14).

Christmas is Jesus as the fulcrum of salvation history. The advent practice of creating a Jesse Tree reminds us of how God has acted in human history and prepared Israel for the coming of the Savior. The world changed when Jesus came into it. That is why Christians view time in terms of "Before Christ" (BC) and "Anno Domini" (AD - "In the Year of the Lord"). We also see a similar divide regarding Christ's first coming and His anticipated Second Coming.

Christmas is the road to the Cross. There is an interesting Christmas decoration of a nail, to be hung deep within the tree, as a reminder of Jesus' Passion. Imbedded in the joyful mystery of the birth of Jesus is the sorrowful mystery of His crucifixion. We see this in the carol, "We Three Kings," in the verse which reads: Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume/Breathes a life of gathering gloom;/Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,/Sealed in the stone-cold tomb."

Christmas is a Eucharistic revelation. In Hebrew, Bethlehem, means "House of Bread." In Arabic, it means, "House of Meat." Jesus was laid in a "manger" (Luke 2:7), which is a trough where animals eat. The bread that is transformed into flesh is the Eucharist, and it is our food for salvation. "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have not life in you; he who 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" (John 6:53-56).

Is Christmas for children? Yes. Christmas is for helping children to understand that the things of this world cannot satisfy them, but there is One who can.

Let My Life Be Consumed

While on a silent Ignatian retreat a few weeks ago, I read parts of Encounters with Silence by Fr. Karl Rahner, S.J. In the chapter on vocation, he wrote this about his priestly vocation:

O God of my vocation, let my life be consumed as the Sacred Host, so that my brothers and I may live in You, and You in us, for all eternity" (p. 77).

Some important things come to mind in reading this. First, God is the God of our vocation, whether that be priestly, religious, or lay. Our vocation is a call from Him to become most fully ourselves in Him. Second, we should be consumed by that call. Jesus was consumed by His love for the Father and for us in His crucifixion. There is a suffering, sacrificial aspect to that consumption. However, there is also a redemptive, life-giving aspect to that consumption as well. The consumption of food gives us natural nourishment and life, and the consumption of the Sacred Host gives us supernatural nourishment and life. Finally, whatever vocation we have, that vocation is strengthened by frequent receipt and adoration of the Blessed Sacrament.

St. Epiphanius of Salamis on the Eucharist

In his work, The Man Well-Anchored (374 A.D.), St. Epiphanius of Salamis wrote about the Eucharist:

We see that the Savior took [something] in His hands, as it is in the Gospel, when He was reclining at supper; and He took this, and giving thanks, He said: "This is really Me." And He gave to His disciples and said: "This is really Me." And we see that it is not equal nor similar, not to the incarnate image, not to the invisible divinity, not to the outline of His limbs. For It is round of shape, and devoid of feeling. As to Its power, He means to say even of Its grace, "This is really Me"; and none disbelieves His word. For anyone who does not believe the truth in what He says is deprived of grace and of Savior. (The Faith of the Early Fathers, Vol. 2, by William A. Jurgens, p. 69.)

I love so many things about this passage. First, Epiphanius' title, The Man Well-Anchored, is a good reminder to us to be conscious of what we make our anchor in life: is it God, or is it some idol, some created thing, such as money, fame, power, lust, sports, TV, control, etc.? Second, Epiphanius uses the phrase "This is really Me" to make immediate and penetrating the Lord's "This is my body" and "This is my blood" as we try to grapple with how what appears to be bread and wine can "really" be the body and blood of Christ. But we are called to believe that Jesus cannot lie to us; we are called to trust that he is as good as his word.

Is Perception Reality?

I have always disliked the saying, "Perception is reality." If taken literally, this saying indicates that one's perception is equal to objective reality. While that is a false claim, too many people believe it. "That's your truth, not my truth" kind of stuff. What people should mean by the saying, "Perception is reality," and what I would agree with, is "One's perception can have a real impact." Hitler's perception of Jewish people was clearly not in accord with objective reality, but his perception had a devastating impact on the European Jewish community.

St. John Chrysostom in his Homilies on the Gospel of Matthew, 370 A.D. (Homily 82, section 4), talks about the Eucharist in a way that reminds us that perception is often not reality:

Let us therefore in all respects put our faith in God and contradict Him in nothing, even if what is said seems to be contrary to our reasonings and to what we see. Let His word be of superior authority to reason and sight. This too be our practice in respect to the Mysteries [i.e., the Eucharist], not looking only upon what is laid out before us, but taking heed also of His words. For His word cannot deceive; but our senses are easily cheated. His word has never failed; our senses err most of the time.

When the word says, "This is My Body," be convinced of it and believe it, and look at it with the eyes of the mind. For Christ did not give us something tangible, but even in His tangible things all is intellectual. So too with Baptism: the gift is bestowed through what is a tangible thing, water; but what is accomplished is intellectually perceived: the rebirth and the renewal. If you were incorporeal He would have given you those incorporeal gifts naked; but since the soul is intertwined with the body, He hands over to you in tangible things that which is perceived intellectually. How many now say, "I wish I could see His shape, His appearance, His garments, His sandals." Only look! You see Him! You touch Him! You eat Him! (The Faith of the Early Fathers by William A. Jurgens, Vol. 2, p. 112)


So let us remember that reality is reality, whether we accept it or not, whether we perceive it or not. And let us also remember that saying that the unreal is true has very real, very detrimental effects.

The Food Which Endures

Today's Gospel reading for the Eighteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time is the passage that contains the title of this blog (my title comes from the Revised Standard Version rather than the New American Bible):

When the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there,
they themselves got into boats
and came to Capernaum looking for Jesus.
And when they found him across the sea they said to him,
“Rabbi, when did you get here?”
Jesus answered them and said,
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
you are looking for me not because you saw signs
but because you ate the loaves and were filled.
Do not work for food that perishes
but for the food that endures for eternal life,
which the Son of Man will give you.
For on him the Father, God, has set his seal.”
So they said to him,
“What can we do to accomplish the works of God?”
Jesus answered and said to them,
“This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent.”
So they said to him,
“What sign can you do, that we may see and believe in you?
What can you do?
Our ancestors ate manna in the desert, as it is written:
He gave them bread from heaven to eat.”
So Jesus said to them,
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
it was not Moses who gave the bread from heaven;
my Father gives you the true bread from heaven.
For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven
and gives life to the world.”

So they said to him,
“Sir, give us this bread always.”
Jesus said to them,
“I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” (John 6:24-35)

Our days are so caught up in working for the food that perishes, in making a living or making dinner. These are not unimportant things. We need food to maintain the health of our bodies, and we should be very concerned for the hungry. We need to support our families and do the things necessary to take care of them. But we need to remember the example of Martha and Mary. When it comes to daily service versus religious devotion, we don’t neglect the one for the other. There is a time for one, and a time for the other. We can even integrate the two. But, as St. Benedict reminds us, “Let us do now that which will profit us for all eternity.”

The Luminous Mysteries

This beautiful stained glass window is a recent addition to St. Francis of Assisi Church in Centerville, Ohio. The window shown here includes the Luminous Mysteries of the Rosary. I have come to love these recent additions to the Rosary, which include the Baptism of Jesus, the Miracle at the Wedding Feast of Cana, the Proclamation of the Kingdom, the Transfiguration, and the Institution of the Eucharist.

One can view all of the Luminous Mysteries as having Eucharistic implications.

The baptism of Jesus shows the cleansing from Original and personal sin through the waters of Baptism. The Eucharist cleanses us from venial sin. In addition, water is mixed with the wine prior to the Consecration, representing the pouring of water and blood from Jesus' heart after being pierced by the lance. See Tiber Jumper's post at his blog, Crossed the Tiber, where he quotes St. John Chrysostom on the connection between baptism and Eucharist.

The miracle of the wedding feast at Cana shows the transubstantiation of water into wine, prefiguring the transubstantiation of wine into blood and bread into flesh of the Eucharist.

The proclamation of the Kingdom indicates both the word of God in the Scriptures and the Word of God in the Second Person of the Trinity. As Fr. John Corapi often says, the Good News is not some thing; the Good News is some One.

The Transfiguration is about Jesus appearing in His glory, revealing His divinity which was veiled in His humanity. In a similar way, Jesus' body and blood is veiled in the appearance of bread and wine in the Eucharist.

The institution of the Eucharist is Jesus' great gift to us so that He could be with us "until the end of the age" (Matthew 28:20).

Pope John Paul II set out the new Luminous Mysteries in his apostolic letter, Rosarium Virginis Mariae (2002). See especially sections 19 and 21.

The Rosary is such a wonderful prayer, and it can deepen our love for Jesus in the Eucharist. It is a fitting prayer during Eucharistic adoration, since it is a contemplation of Jesus' life. In the future I will also look at a set of prayers for the Rosary with a Eucharistic focus which I have come across.

The Eucharist: The Past is Not Past

The great twentieth-century American novelist, William Faulkner, famously said about the American South that there the past is not only not dead, it isn't even past. That can help us understand the sacrifice of the mass as a re-presentation of Christ's sacrifice on Calvary.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church makes this clear:

The sacrificial memorial of Christ and of his Body, the Church

1362 The Eucharist is the memorial of Christ's Passover, the making present and the sacramental offering of his unique sacrifice, in the liturgy of the Church which is his Body. In all the Eucharistic Prayers we find after the words of institution a prayer called the anamnesis or memorial.

1363 In the sense of Sacred Scripture the memorial is not merely the recollection of past events but the proclamation of the mighty works wrought by God for men.184 In the liturgical celebration of these events, they become in a certain way present and real. This is how Israel understands its liberation from Egypt: every time Passover is celebrated, the Exodus events are made present to the memory of believers so that they may conform their lives to them.

1364 In the New Testament, the memorial takes on new meaning. When the Church celebrates the Eucharist, she commemorates Christ's Passover, and it is made present the sacrifice Christ offered once for all on the cross remains ever present.185 "As often as the sacrifice of the Cross by which 'Christ our Pasch has been sacrificed' is celebrated on the altar, the work of our redemption is carried out."186

1365 Because it is the memorial of Christ's Passover, the Eucharist is also a sacrifice. The sacrificial character of the Eucharist is manifested in the very words of institution: "This is my body which is given for you" and "This cup which is poured out for you is the New Covenant in my blood."187 In the Eucharist Christ gives us the very body which he gave up for us on the cross, the very blood which he "poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."188

1366 The Eucharist is thus a sacrifice because it re-presents (makes present) the sacrifice of the cross, because it is its memorial and because it applies its fruit:

[Christ], our Lord and God, was once and for all to offer himself to God the Father by his death on the altar of the cross, to accomplish there an everlasting redemption. But because his priesthood was not to end with his death, at the Last Supper "on the night when he was betrayed," [he wanted] to leave to his beloved spouse the Church a visible sacrifice (as the nature of man demands) by which the bloody sacrifice which he was to accomplish once for all on the cross would be re-presented, its memory perpetuated until the end of the world, and its salutary power be applied to the forgiveness of the sins we daily commit.189

When we go to mass, we need to bear in mind that we are not simply remembering an event that occurred long ago. Not only is Jesus really present in the Eucharist, but his sacrifice on the cross is, in a mystical way, present as well. Jesus is not dead, and He is not a memory, but He is there, with us, and we with Him.

St. John Vianney on the Eucharist

I went to one of our local Catholic bookshops today and picked up a booklet on St. John Vianney called Thoughts of the Curé d'Ars (Tan Books). Since we are now in the Year of the Priest, I thought this would be a good way to introduce me more to this beloved pastor.

Here are some of the passages that reflect St. John Vianney's thoughts on the Eucharist:

How pleasing to Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament is the short quarter of an hour that we steal from our occupations, from something of no use, to come and pray to Him, to visit Him, to console Him. (p. 8)

We can only receive God once a day; a soul enkindled with divine love makes up for this by the desire of receiving Him every moment of the day. (p. 10)

Although the good God does not allow us to see Him, He is nonetheless present in the Blessed Sacrament; nonetheless ready to grant us all we ask. (p. 15)

When we leave the holy banquet of Communion, we are as happy as the wise men would have been if they could have carried away the Infant Jesus. (p. 15)

Grieve over the contempt cast upon Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, and try to make amends for it by a greater and more ardent love." (p. 18)

Our Lord is hidden in the Blessed Sacrament, waiting for us to come and visit Him.... See how good He is!... If He had appeared before us now in all His glory, we should not have dared to approach Him; but He hides Himself like one in prison, saying: "You do not see Me, but that does not matter; ask Me for all you want...." (p. 21)

"Live on Him that you may live for Him." (p. 22)

I have much to learn from St. John Vianney, and I look forward to learning it.

Faith and the Eucharist

Faith in the Real Presence is a gift, as all faith is. However, we also must do our part in working with the gift: being open to it and ultimately accepting it, even though we cannot fully see or understand what this gift is.

Think about the Gospel of John, Chapter 6. Jesus tells the crowd that "the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh" (John 6:51), but after some explanation, many of Jesus' disciples respond "This is a hard saying; who can listen to it?"(John 6:60). This teaching caused many of the disciples to stop following Him: "After this many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him" (John 6:66). Jesus then turns to His most trusted disciples, the Twelve. He asks them: "Will you also go away?" But Peter responds for them: "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life; and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God." (John 6:67-69).

Peter and the rest of the Twelve did not understand what Jesus was telling them any more than those disciples who left Jesus. However, what Peter and the Twelve did understand better than those other disciples was who Jesus was and the reliability of His word. Whereas the disciples who left sought to use understanding as the criterion for whether or not they would follow Jesus, Peter and the Twelve instead based their decision to follow Jesus on faith. Not that faith and reason are opposed. They are not. Faith without reason allows one to be easily led astray. However, reason without faith causes one to believe only what one's senses tells him or her.

St. Cyprian of Carthage wrote a treatise called The Death-Rate (ca. 252-253). Although he wrote this work in response to a plague and used the occasion to get Christians to think about their attitudes towards death, the passage can help us understand the attitude we should take towards the Eucharist, especially in light of John 6:

If a staid and praiseworthy man should promise you something you would have faith in his promise, and you would not believe that you would be cheated or deceived by one whom you knew to be steadfast in his words and deeds. God is speaking to you, and do you waiver faithlessly with your unbelieving mind? God promises that when you leave this world you shall have immortality in life eternal, and do you doubt? This is to know God not at all. This is to offend Christ, the Teacher of belief by the sin of disbelief. For one established in the Church, this is not to have faith in the house of faith. (The Faith of the Early Fathers by William A. Jurgens, Vol. I, #562, p. 224).

Peter and the Twelve (except for Judas Iscariot) understood that Jesus was "steadfast in his words and deeds." To doubt that what Jesus promises is true "is to know God not at all."

Later, St. Anselm of Canterbury (ca. 1033-1109), building on writings of St. Augustine, stressed the importance of faith as foundational to understanding. Anselm wrote, "Neque enim quaero intelligere ut credam, sed credo ut intelligam. Nam et hoc credo, quia, nisi credidero, non intelligam." ("Nor do I seek to understand that I may believe, but I believe that I may understand. For this, too, I believe, that, unless I first believe, I shall not understand.") If we are open to faith, we come to understand certain things that are not available to us outside of faith.

We will never understand the Eucharist this side of Heaven. It is indeed a hard saying. However, we must trust the One saying it, for He is steadfast in His words and deeds.

Forgiveness and the Eucharist

Forgiving others is very difficult for human beings. We are wounded through original sin, but we are made in the image and likeness of God, and God is merciful. St. Faustina has reminded us of divine mercy, and we are obligated to reflect that mercy to others.

Scripture is unequivocal about our need for mercy and the need for us to be merciful to others. The Gospel of Matthew is particularly good at this. "Then Peter came up and said to him, 'Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you seven times but seventy times seven'" (Matthew 18:21-22). Jesus then tells us a parable to help us understand the kingdom of heaven. It is the story of the king who forgives a servant who is in debt to him. The king forgives a huge debt (10,000 talents). The servant then shakes down another servant who owes him a much smaller debt (100 denarii), showing him no mercy. The king learns of this, and then says to him: "'You wicked servant! I forgave you all the debt because you besought me; and should not you have had mercy on your fellow servant, as I had mercy on you?" The servant is sent to prison "till he should pay all his debt. So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart" (Matthew 18:23-35). I have long found this passage very powerful. Because of the emphasis on forgiveness and the de-emphasis on money in this parable, I put a dollar bill at this passage in Bibles placed in hotel rooms I stay in. That's one way I try to quietly evangelize.

Earlier in the Gospel of Matthew we are told the connection directly between worship and forgiveness. "So if you are offering your gift at the altar, and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother, and then come and offer your gift. Make friends quickly with your accuser, while you are going with him to court, lest your accuser hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you be put in prison; truly, I say to you, you will never get out till you have paid the last penny" (Matthew 5:23-26).

Before we approach the altar to receive our Lord in the Eucharist, we say the prayer He taught us: the Our Father. We say: "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." If we do not forgive others, we are asking God to not forgive us.

How serious are we about that prayer? Are we as serious as Assunta Goretti, mother of St. Maria Goretti? In her excellent book, Real Saints, Real Women: Friends for your Spiritual Journey, Gina Loehr highlights the power of forgiveness in the story of the saint. Maria Goretti was only twelve years old when Alessandro Serenelli attempted to rape her. When she resisted, he stabbed her fourteen times. Maria lingered for a time afterwards; her mother, Assunta, was in the hospital with her until she died. As Loehr notes, Maria "declared that she had forgiven Alessandro and prayed that God would allow him to be with her in paradise. This perfect act of charity would inspire many others to forgive Alessandro as well. Assunta herself found courage to forgive the murderer because Maria had forgiven him first" (p. 66).

We evangelize by example.

This saint's forgiving heart changed Alessandro too. After eight years in prison, a glowing and angelic Maria appeared to him in a dream, offering forgiveness. From that time on Alessandro was repentant and remorseful. He served the remaining eighteen years of his sentence devoted to prayer and the sacraments" (p. 66).

Before we give up on people who we think are beyond redemption, we should recall Alessandro. After getting out of prison, he spent the rest of his life at a Capuchin monastery as a layman.

What truly impressed me about Assunta's story is this. She not only forgave Alessandro in her heart for killing her little girl, but she shared a heavenly meal with him:

On Christmas Eve of 1937, he came to seek forgiveness and to make what reparation he could. At midnight Mass he knelt beside Assunta as they both received Jesus in the Eucharist" (p. 67).

I do not know if I could find the courage to forgive someone for murdering my daughter, and then go to mass with that person. But that is what Jesus calls us to do, for that is what He did. "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do" (Luke 23:34).

Pentecost

To celebrate Pentecost, I would like to post a passage from Pope Benedict XVI's post-synodal exhortation, Sacramentum Caritatis (Sacrament of Charity), which concerns the relationship between the Holy Spirit and the Eucharist (sections 12 and 13). This portion of the document can be found at the Vatican's website here.

The Holy Spirit and the Eucharist

Jesus and the Holy Spirit

12. With his word and with the elements of bread and wine, the Lord himself has given us the essentials of this new worship. The Church, his Bride, is called to celebrate the eucharistic banquet daily in his memory. She thus makes the redeeming sacrifice of her Bridegroom a part of human history and makes it sacramentally present in every culture. This great mystery is celebrated in the liturgical forms which the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit, develops in time and space. (23) We need a renewed awareness of the decisive role played by the Holy Spirit in the evolution of the liturgical form and the deepening understanding of the sacred mysteries. The Paraclete, Christ's first gift to those who believe, (24) already at work in Creation (cf. Gen 1:2), is fully present throughout the life of the incarnate Word: Jesus Christ is conceived by the Virgin Mary by the power of the Holy Spirit (cf. Mt 1:18; Lk 1:35); at the beginning of his public mission, on the banks of the Jordan, he sees the Spirit descend upon him in the form of a dove (cf. Mt 3:16 and parallels); he acts, speaks and rejoices in the Spirit (cf. Lk 10:21), and he can offer himself in the Spirit (cf. Heb 9:14). In the so-called "farewell discourse" reported by John, Jesus clearly relates the gift of his life in the paschal mystery to the gift of the Spirit to his own (cf. Jn 16:7). Once risen, bearing in his flesh the signs of the passion, he can pour out the Spirit upon them (cf. Jn 20:22), making them sharers in his own mission (cf. Jn 20:21). The Spirit would then teach the disciples all things and bring to their remembrance all that Christ had said (cf. Jn 14:26), since it falls to him, as the Spirit of truth (cf. Jn 15:26), to guide the disciples into all truth (cf. Jn 16:13). In the account in Acts, the Spirit descends on the Apostles gathered in prayer with Mary on the day of Pentecost (cf. 2:1-4) and stirs them to undertake the mission of proclaiming the Good News to all peoples. Thus it is through the working of the Spirit that Christ himself continues to be present and active in his Church, starting with her vital centre which is the Eucharist.

The Holy Spirit and the eucharistic celebration

13. Against this backdrop we can understand the decisive role played by the Holy Spirit in the eucharistic celebration, particularly with regard to transubstantiation. An awareness of this is clearly evident in the Fathers of the Church. Saint Cyril of Jerusalem, in his Catecheses, states that we "call upon God in his mercy to send his Holy Spirit upon the offerings before us, to transform the bread into the body of Christ and the wine into the blood of Christ. Whatever the Holy Spirit touches is sanctified and completely transformed" (25). Saint John Chrysostom too notes that the priest invokes the Holy Spirit when he celebrates the sacrifice: (26) like Elijah, the minister calls down the Holy Spirit so that "as grace comes down upon the victim, the souls of all are thereby inflamed" (27). The spiritual life of the faithful can benefit greatly from a better appreciation of the richness of the anaphora: along with the words spoken by Christ at the Last Supper, it contains the epiclesis, the petition to the Father to send down the gift of the Spirit so that the bread and the wine will become the body and blood of Jesus Christ and that "the community as a whole will become ever more the body of Christ" (28). The Spirit invoked by the celebrant upon the gifts of bread and wine placed on the altar is the same Spirit who gathers the faithful "into one body" and makes of them a spiritual offering pleasing to the Father (29).

Communion in the Hand

I know that people have very strong feelings about whether they should receive our Lord in the Eucharist in the hand or on the tongue. Personally, I feel that both ways can be done very reverently. An image that makes me appreciate reception in the hand more than I previously did is to remind myself that I am a beggar before God (a metaphor used by St. Augustine, although not in the context of receiving the Eucharist; see Sermon 61, section 8). As a beggar holds out his hands pleading for compassion and material sustenance, so too we come to our Lord seeking mercy and spiritual sustenance. Unlike the beggar, who is my equal, I am not God's equal. And yet, He gives me the audacity to hold out my hand to Him, asking for the Bread of Life.

How we receive Christ in the Eucharist, both externally and internally, matters a great deal. Our challenge as individuals is to choose the option that allows us to show the most reverence and love for Christ.

Caravaggio and the Rest on the Flight into Egypt

I was looking at Caravaggio's Rest on the Flight into Egypt (ca. 1597). I love the picture of Mary holding the infant Jesus (even if Mary looks like she's from Ireland or perhaps Northern Italy with her red hair rather than a Middle Eastern Jewish woman). The full picture includes Joseph listening to an angel play a violin. That's part of the angel's wing in the part of the picture shown above.

The image of Mary holding Jesus in her arms as both sleep is so peaceful. At mass on Saturday I contemplated this image as I was receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. Anyone who has held a sleeping baby knows the peacefulness of the contact of flesh to flesh, of the little heart beating against your chest. You know the joy of holding someone who loves so purely, so completely. I thought about Jesus as that little baby, as the one in my hands who holds me and loves so purely, so completely.

I have also tried to reverse that image to enhance my prayer life. Jesus taught us to call God not just "our father," but "our dada" (abba). We are to become like a child, totally dependent on the one who gave us life. So I try to think of myself as a baby, being held tightly in God the Father's arms, resting, being soothed, trying to be as close to Him as I can get.

God and Bread

I found out about this quotation today from Mohandas Gandhi:

There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of bread.

This is a good reminder to us of the following:

1. We have an important obligation to help our less fortunate brothers and sisters. As James reminds us, "If a brother or sister is ill-clad and in lack of of daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace, be warmed and filled,' without giving them the things needed for the body, what does it profit? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead." (James 2:15-17)
2. When it comes to evangelization, we need to learn what people need and feed them. The Catholic faith is a banquet; we should feed others from the table what it is they most hunger for, not necessarily what we most want to give them. One of my favorite expressions for evangelization is "one beggar showing another beggar where the food is."
3. Finally, the Eucharist is God in the appearance of bread. The Eucharist is literally what Gandhi is describing here, although it is not what he had in mind. The world is so hungry for God, He comes to us as bread and wine, that our hunger might be fed and our thirst might be quenched.

Jim Burnham on Evangelizing the Real Presence

Jim Burnham appears regularly on the Catholic radio show, Catholic Answers. Click here for a brief clip of his April 6th appearance on that show. I found this clip courtesy of James Swan at Alpha and Omega Ministries, a Protestant website. Swan is trying to use the clip to argue that the Catholic Magisterium is not more effective at preventing confusion than the Protestant doctrine sola scriptura or "scripture alone."

The argument is itself a confusion. While there may be confusion among the Catholic laity for a variety of reasons (poor catechesis, difficulty accepting such a mysterious teaching, outright rejection of the doctrine of the Real Presence, etc.), there is not confusion in the Church's teaching on this point. Nor does the unwillingness or inability of some Catholics to believe this central teaching have any bearing on the truth of the teaching.

Burnham's audio clip is a moving invitation to learn more about the Eucharist and to take that teaching to others.

Raphael's Disputa

I was looking at John F. Moffitt's Painterly Perspective and Piety: Religious Uses of the Vanishing Point, from the 15th to the 18th Century, where he has a chapter entitled, "Seeing the Host in Art and Archtecture." There he talks about Raphael's painting, Disputa or Disputation over the Doctrine of Transubstantiation (1509-11). This is a fresco in the Stanza della Segnatura (Hall of the Judicial Tribunal) in the Vatican. In the picture, Heaven and Earth are shown, centered on the Trinity in a horizontal line connecting Heaven and Earth through the Eucharist. It is interesting that in a hall devoted to canon law, there is a Eucharistic fresco. Moffitt quotes historian Yryo Hirn on the picture: "Thus in this composition Raphael has concentrated the thought which lay at the basis of the whole Catholic Mass doctrine: that the Host was the supreme point between Heaven and earth" (Y. Hirn, The Sacred Shrine: A Study of the Poetry and Art of the Catholic Church, pp. 149-150, quoted in Moffitt, p. 128).

During the Protestant Reformation, the nature of the Eucharist became a contested battleground. Raphael depicted what the Catholic Church taught, which the the Council of Trent re-affirmed and clarified by defining transubstantiation in Session 13, Chapter IV, in 1551:

And because that Christ, our Redeemer, declared that which He offered under the species of bread to be truly His own body, therefore has it ever been a firm belief in the Church of God, and this holy Synod doth now declare it anew, that, by the consecration of the bread and of the wine, a conversion is made of the whole substance of the bread into the substance of the body of Christ our Lord, and of the whole substance of the wine into the substance of His blood; which conversion is, by the holy Catholic Church, suitably and properly called Transubstantiation.

Raphael's Disputa is a wonderful example of art and faith informing each other, teaching and inspiring, bringing together beauty and truth.