Category Archives: Eucharist

The Upside Down

[Note: this post has very mild spoilers for the first season of Stranger Things]

I’m currently watching the newest season of Stranger Things on Netflix (Season 4), which reminded me of something I had thought about posting back when the first season aired. In the first season a lot of the mystery centers upon something called “the Upside Down.” What is it, and what threat does it pose? It proves to be a sort of parallel dimension to earth, with everything twisted in a dark direction (hence the name). The objects of this world appear dark, corroded, and suffused with a sinister miasma. It is cold and largely devoid of life, leaving those that find their way there isolated and alone. What life they do encounter is monstrous and desires to consume them, body and soul. These monsters stalk along right next to us in this life, hidden from sight but hunting for a place to break through and attack. The Upside Down is a terrifying place!

What struck me about this is how it actually gives us an insight into heaven, although in an inverted way. Heaven is often thought of as far away and unconnected to this life. However, this is not what our faith teaches. St Paul quotes a poem to describe our connection to God: “in Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). Heaven right now is a spiritual existence – meaning non-material and therefore not visible, yet one that permeates this reality. We often picture it as geographically located above us (the words “heaven” or “cielo” point to the sky), but in fact this is just an analogy used as a crutch to help us imagine it.

Heaven can be seen as the complete right-ordering of this world, “the Right-side Up” in contrast to “the Upside Down.” It is a place of light and warmth. It is a place of communion with God and the angels/saints. These are not monsters seeking to destroy us, but helpers close at hand to lend aid. As the Letter to the Hebrews says, we are “surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses” (12:1).

One place that we experience this in a particular way is in the celebration of the Mass – which in the Eastern Church is often called “the Divine Liturgy.” Here we enter into the proximity of earth and heaven in a way that strongly echoes an inverse of the Upside Down. We have the chance to encounter a break-through of grace into this world and a foretaste of the good things to come.

Spending time in the “Right-side Up” (whether during Mass or in personal prayer) can also help us to see this world more clearly. GK Chesterton invokes a similar image in writing about the life of St Francis of Assisi. St Francis had been drawn during his conversion process to spend some time living in a cave and dedicated to prayer/reflection. Chesterton describes him as coming out of the cave “walking on his hands,” seeing the world upside down. The things he used to trust in (eg wealth) he now sees as precarious. For example, a large castle might seem sturdy and trustworthy, but when viewed upside down it seems to be hanging and likely to fall. In contrast, the things that Francis used to doubt (faith and charity) seem to be the most secure things.

The band Mumford and Sons actually incorporated this Chesterton quote into their song “The Cave,” expressing it this way: “So come out of your cave walking on your hands, and see the world hanging upside down. You can understand dependence when you know the Maker’s land.” A glimpse of heaven (the Right-side Up, the “Maker’s Land”) helps us to better see this world. It helps us to understand the closeness of God, even when we do not perceive it. Likewise, it helps us to better grasp the Communion of Saints. To quote the opening prayer from the recent feast of Corpus Christi, may this meditation help us – especially in the Mass – to “experience in ourselves the fruits of [our] redemption,” and the closeness of the Kingdom!

The Stormlight Archive

[Week 9 of the Imagination in Action reflection series. Theme this week: the Eucharist]

The Stormlight Archive is a series of books within Brandon Sanderson’s “Cosmere” universe, an epic fantasy like Lord of the Rings, Wheel of Time, or The Kingkiller Chronicle. It is a genre of writing I have really enjoyed since junior high/high school, and I find Sanderson’s work to be some of the best developed that I have read. I highly recommend it if this type of writing is of interest to you! I’ll try to avoid spoilers as much as possible, since part of what I like in the series is the gradual revelation of the backstory and powers.

What I want to highlight is a moment in which one of the characters is able to unite the three “realms” of the Cosmere (physical, mental, and spiritual). A “perpendicularity” is created in which the real world of thought as well as the divine power in the spiritual realm are made present to people of flesh and blood. This unleashes a great source of strength and transformation.

Looking at this from the perspective of a priest, it reminds me of the classic description of the celebration of the Mass/Eucharist as uniting the three elements of the Church: those on earth, souls in purgatory, and those in heaven (God, angels, and saints). Likewise, it reminds me of the way that in the Upper Room we have the connection of the Last Supper (with its reference to the Cross), the Resurrection appearance of Jesus, and the gift of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost. Understanding the way that these aspects are connected is essential to realizing what is really happening when we celebrate Mass.

From the beginning we see the Apostles continue the celebration of the Last Supper, often referred to as celebrating the “breaking of the bread” in the Acts of the Apostles. At times the Scriptures speak of fellowship meals, but here is another type of celebration that is more than this. A study of the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John, the appearance on the road to Emmaus, or the writings of early Christians like St Justin Martyr show the difference. It is a sacrament – an outward sign instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church to give grace. It makes present the power of the Cross, the Resurrection, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. We become partakers with the celebration of the “wedding feast of the Lamb” going on in heaven (as described in the book of Revelation). Likewise, it unites us with the celebration of the Mass throughout the world. In a sense there is just “one” Mass that we all enter into when present at an individual celebration – a collection of timeless moments condensed into time.

While in the Stormlight Archive the uniting of realms is something spectacular that no one can miss, this is not necessarily the case for us! Sometimes Mass is a transcendent moment, but other times we find ourselves tired, bored, or distracted. Perhaps the preaching is not great or something goes wrong with the music. A child is misbehaving or the heating is not right and we are shivering/sweating and can’t focus. For this reason I think it is important to continue to return to a remembrance of what lies under the surface. Underneath all of the human elements is what Christ entrusted to us – His perfect act of love for God and humanity; the offer of divine grace in our need; communion with God and the threefold Church. As imperfect as our participation may seem, we unite it with Christ’s prayer so that it transcends our limitations. It is a great thing to compose our own personal prayer or song in praise of the Lord, but nothing can rival offering the very celebration He asked for in the Last Supper (“do this in memory of me”). A perfect gift is based on the desire of the one receiving the gift rather than the one giving the gift. Therefore there is nothing better to offer to God on the Lord’s day than this!

The transcendent nature of this celebration is both a consolation and a challenge in this time of pandemic. It is a consolation because it means it is more than a local human celebration, and so we can join in spiritually even when unable to participate in person. A “spiritual Communion” is the practice of uniting our heart and soul to a celebration of the Mass when something impedes us from the opportunity to attend (or if we are able to attend but have a reason we are not able to receive Communion at that time). Watching a celebration on tv or online can help us to enter in more fully. If that doesn’t work, we can come up with other ways to do the best we can. This is one part of the challenge the pandemic presents – creativity in how to stay connected spiritually when separated physically. The other aspect of the challenge is discovering ways for as many to celebrate safely in person as possible. Keeping in mind the centrality of this sacrament invites us to put our imagination into action and seek anew the grace God desires to give!

Visiting the Alamo

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to visit the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas. I was familiar with it through tv shows and general American culture. Still, the visit there left a surprisingly deep impression on me.

Some might not know that it was originally built as the Catholic Mission of San Antonio, and the main building was designed as the chapel. Because of circumstances it ended up spending the majority of its time as a military/government base, but one of its side rooms was maintained as a functioning chapel for many years. The building is now surrounded by downtown San Antonio, although space has been preserved for a park that maintains the feeling of the original complex. Most of it is set-up like a typical museum, with artifacts, dioramas, talks, and even some historical reenactors (we saw one giving a musket demonstration).

What surprised me, though, was the reverence maintained in the old church itself. The door bore an old metal sign with the inscription, “Be silent, friend. Here heroes died to blaze a trail for other men.” In thinking of all those who have given their lives for others, the words of the Gospel came to mind: “No greater love has one than this, to lay down one’s life for a friend” (John 15:13). Hats were to be removed and no camera/electronic devices were permitted. The space was clean and simple, with a few displays explaining aspects of the building, and a set of plaques listing the names of all of the deceased. It seemed the deaths were recent events, and the weight of loss was palpable.

Of course, from my perspective it was impossible to think of this without recalling that in a small side room the Franciscan priests at the mission had regularly celebrated Mass – the sacrament of the passion, death, and resurrection of Christ. “For freedom Christ set us free” (Galatians 5:1). Side-by-side were the temporal struggle and the eternal dimension. It still merits further reflection for me. May I try honor those that have given me the opportunities that I have in this life, and the One that has offered me a freedom beyond that which the world can give.

The Road to Emmaus and the Mass

On the afternoon of Easter Sunday Jesus appeared to two disciples walking to the city of Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35). They did not recognize Him, but spoke of their discouragement about His death. Jesus explained the preparation for this in the Scriptures, and then was invited to dinner as they reached the town. At dinner He performed the blessing and then disappeared. This has been one of my favorite Resurrection appearances since hearing it explained at one of our Diocesan Emmaus Days retreats (the retreat name comes from this passage). It helped me to understand the structure of the Mass, and how to find God in it.

The Mass has two principal parts—the Liturgy of the Word (Scripture readings, preaching) and the Liturgy of the Eucharist (the consecration and distribution of the Body and Blood). We see both of them echoed in the appearance.

Jesus first spends time speaking with the two disciples about the full meaning of the Scriptures. He shows the way that the Old Testament prepares the way for His work, and how to see God’s plan through it all. The disciples say, “Were not our hearts burning [within us] while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us?” This is what we seek today when we celebrate the Liturgy of the Word: that the Lord may open the Scriptures to us and set our hearts afire!

However, at this point the disciples had still not recognized Jesus. It was getting late, and so they invited Him to dinner. “And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.” These are not random actions they describe—taking the bread, blessing, breaking, giving. These are the actions Jesus had done at the Last Supper, when He said, “this is my Body… this is my Blood.” They hearken back as well to the feeding of the multitude, after which He explained “my flesh is true food and my blood true drink… unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you do not have life within you” (see John chapter 6). In fact, it appears that Jesus chose to celebrate His “first supper” after the Resurrection in the same way as the Last Supper! It is in this moment that they finally recognize Him, but then He disappears from their sight. Why? I think the Catholic answer is very profound: because He remains present now under the appearance of the bread and wine. His True Presence does not leave, merely manifests in the new way that He will remain with us until the end of days.

So, when we celebrate Mass, we commemorate not just the Last Supper but also this “first” Supper. Jesus is not dead in the Mass, but alive. When we receive Communion we don’t encounter an inactive body but a living Person. Normal food is broken down and transformed into part of our body when it is consumed. This is different in the case of the Eucharist. Because Jesus is alive, what happens is that bit by bit our old self is broken down and transformed into Who we receive: Christ. Alleluia!

The Eucharist and the Parish

One of the very special events in the life of a priest is his “first Mass.” This is usually celebrated at his home parish the day after his ordination. When I was preparing for mine, the line that kept coming to my mind was what Jesus tells his apostles at the Last Supper, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you” (Luke 22:15). It was the fulfillment of many years of preparation, and I was so happy to celebrate it with the community where I had grown up (even though it was probably the most nervous I have ever been celebrating a Mass!).

Indeed, the last thing Jesus chose to do before going to his arrest and death was to institute the Eucharist. Jesus emphasized the desire he had for this celebration because it was to be the foundation for the new community he was founding. This communion with his Body and Blood was to be the lifeblood of his “mystical” Body: the Church. St Paul uses this image in a powerful way in Chapter 12 of the first letter to the Corinthians. He says that the Church is the Body of Christ. Each of us is a member of this Body with our own mission and gifts. The body is not a single part, but there is a unity within the distinct parts. Pope Francis speaks of this as “harmony,” which avoids the opposite errors of stale uniformity and destructive disunity (see his first homily for Pentecost as Pope, 19 May 2013).

I think it also teaches us something very important about what a parish is supposed to be. To use another phrase from Pope Francis, he speaks of the parish as a “community of communities” (The Joy of the Gospel, paragraph 28). This is similar to St Paul’s description of the Church as a unified Body with many parts. In our parish we have a variety of communities. Our goal is not to lose what is essential or unique about each of these communities, but similarly not to break down into isolated units. It is our unity in the celebration of the Eucharist that stands as an essential part of what we do together as a parish. We might think of this as the heart that pumps blood through the body. If a hand tries to separate itself from the heart it will wither. If we lose our connection here, we will not bear fruit. There will be events that fall mainly within one of the communities here, and we want to keep all of the distinctive life and gifts manifest in them. Our parish will be at its best, though, when we keep these parts connected in the unity of the parish through union with Christ in his celebration of the Eucharist.

What does the word “Eucharist” mean?

One of the perhaps strangest words that we often use as Catholics is “Eucharist.” It might not even be obvious how to pronounce it if you haven’t heard it before (YOO-ka-rist). Once you master that you can try the Spanish version: Eucaristía (a hint, it has six syllables!).

In itself, it is a Greek word meaning “thanksgiving.” It was used in the early Church, though, to give name to the celebration surrounding the sacrament of the Last Supper (for example, in the excellent accounts given by St Justin Martyr). From there it developed a number of related uses. So, “the Eucharist” may refer to the bread and wine that has become the Body and Blood of Christ. In this case it would be similar to the words “Holy Communion,” “the Most Holy Sacrament,” or the Host/Chalice. Additionally, “celebrating the Eucharist” may be used as an equivalent of Mass, referring to the whole ceremony that is carried out in church. It might seem odd to refer to the consecrated Host as “the Eucharist” (ie “the Thanksgiving”), but it flows from remembering the spirit of thanks that should surround this sacramental gift.  Our prayer is often filled with expressions of “please” and “I’m sorry.” Let this word be a reminder to also fill them with the words “thank you!”

What were my struggles with the Church’s teaching on the Eucharist?

The Church teaches that during the celebration of Mass the bread and the wine truly become the Body and Blood of Christ. It is a distinctive teaching of the Catholic Church, and at the heart of our worship. This became a struggle for me when I entered college, because I couldn’t tell how the elements were any different, and didn’t know how to answer those who challenged this belief. I ended up asking one of the priests at the Newman Center, which was a blessing. Unfortunately these types of questions are sometimes just left to fester without remedy!

The priest suggested two things, which helped me immensely. The first was study. At a basic level, I didn’t really understand what the Church teaches. We do not claim that the sensible elements change (how it looks, tastes, etc). Instead, we believe that the substance changes (what stands beneath the appearance, classically called “accidents”). This answered my first question; it’s not a question of sensible change, but whether the change is merely symbolic.

In my study I examined the scriptural texts, and realized how strongly Jesus states the truth of the substantial change in the Scriptures (eg “For my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink,” from John 6:55). Paul likewise speaks of it in his letters. Elsewhere you can find a fuller explanation, but I just want to say here that the Catholic belief is certainly not unscriptural.

The other aspect of my study was the writings of the early Christians, shortly after the time of Christ. For example, St Justin Martyr writes this (around the year 150 AD):

“And this food is called among us the Eucharist, of which no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has enjoined. For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Savior, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh. For the apostles, in the memoirs composed by them, which are called Gospels, have thus delivered unto us what was enjoined upon them; that Jesus took bread, and when He had given thanks, said, This do in remembrance of Me, this is My body; and that, after the same manner, having taken the cup and given thanks, He said, This is My blood; and gave it to them alone.”

In short, I found that the belief in the true change of the elements is the ancient belief. Reducing it to merely a symbolic/figurative change is a development of the last centuries. Just appeals to the recent teaching of the apostles as the source of his belief–a distance of less than 100 years. Either the apostles completely failed to explain the symbolic nature of the Eucharist and the belief became corrupted within the first generation, or Justin is in fact correctly representing their teaching.

In addition to this objective study, the priest recommended a second approach: prayer. As I began to pray more seriously in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament (and to be more attentive in receiving Communion), I experienced the truth of these words personally. Jesus didn’t desire to leave only a symbolic or figurative presence with us. He is present, truly, under the appearance of the bread and wine.

From that point, instead of experiencing this teaching as a source of confusion, I found it to be a source of Communion—from the Mass I experience today, back through the ages and saints, to Christ Himself.