In times of turmoil remember — ‘only one thing is necessary’

By Brad Torline.

Becoming a parent for the first time is an intimidating experience for most people even under normal circumstances. Imagine what it’s been like in the year 2020.

I had finally mustered up the courage to dive into marriage and fatherhood and then, less than three months after announcing our first pregnancy, a “once-in-a-life-time” pandemic hit.

The ensuing political and economic instability, the surge in race tensions, and, of course, the most contentious presidential race in living memory were all just cherries on top of this nerve-wracking scenario.

I’ve always thought it was a little tiresome and melodramatic when people say things like “What kind of a world have I brought a child into?!” The world has always been in a bad way and we could always use another good person. And yet, I have definitely caught myself looking down at my tiny beautiful new daughter this year and wondering just what kind of world she will grow up in.

All of this had me pondering and praying — what are we as Christians called to do in the face of all this? What am I personally called to do?

“You are worried and bothered about so many things; but only one thing is necessary.” (Luke 10:42)

If you turned your phone or computer on at all during 2020 you were probably immediately berated by a host of political movements, causes and activists — each demanding your attention, focus and support. If you failed to respond, at once you were made to feel complicit in systematic evil, worthy of condemnation and exclusion, etc. etc.

But as the verse above reminds us, anxiety and hyper-activity are antithetical to the Gospel.

I’m not saying that Catholics don’t have social and political responsibilities. We do. They comprise what tradition calls our “active life.”

The simple point I want to make here (and the point that has brought me peace during these times) is the reminder that the Church has always prioritized what she calls the “interior life” over the active life.

I think remembering this can give us focus and peace during these tumultuous times. There are many crises going on in society and in the Church right now. Sometimes it feels we are losing ground on all sides, making us feel the obligation to run this way and that trying to do something about it all.

But remember that, in the end, there is really only one thing for which we will ultimately be held responsible. Remember that, in Christ’s words, “Only one thing is necessary,” and that is our interior life, what Pope Benedict described as our “personal search for the face of the Lord.”  It is our personal striving to discover the Truth and to live in accordance as best as we can — first and foremost in our own lives and then we can strive to help those in our immediate sphere of influence as well. Only then should we strive to do something bigger.

I’m reminded of an old story my friend’s Ukrainian Catholic pastor would tell:

“Once there was young man who sought to become a priest thinking, ‘Perhaps, I can save the world.’ He thought he would climb to the highest ranks of the Church, fix her systems, and launch worldwide movements to renew entire societies. But after being ordained he realized that he could not save the world unless he could first save his own diocese. So with joy he accepted his first assignment to the Curia and served under his Bishop for 20 years only to realize, in the end, that he did not have the abilities to save his own diocese. He grew tired and was happy when the bishop reassigned him to a small parish. He devoted himself with fervor for another 20 years, thinking ‘I could not save my diocese, but perhaps I can save this little parish.’ But as the years passed, he realized that he could not save his little parish either. In old age, humbled by many years of hard work, he thought to himself ‘I cannot save this little parish, after all, but perhaps I can save myself.’ So he dedicated himself to eradicating his bad habits and the wicked thoughts he held secret in his heart.

“On his deathbed he realized that he could not even do this. He could not save even himself! And he was able to simply offer himself over to the Lord.”

We have a tendency of going about things backwards, don’t we? In youthful zeal we think we can fix and rework entire systems. We think we could run the entire world better if only we were in charge. We think we can save the world even though our families are a mess and we don’t know how to help them, and even though we cannot solve our own problems.

Here is the truth: We cannot save the world. We cannot save our community. We cannot save our family. We cannot even save ourselves — only Christ can. The sooner we realize this the better.

Scripture says that all of creation is groaning for the revelation of the sons of God. (Romans 8:22) Translation: The only true way to help the world is to become a saint.

If we fill our life with activism but do not become a saint, we have failed and everything we have will come to nothing. But if we concentrate on holiness first and foremost, above all else, then we will accomplish more than we ever imagined in our lifetime because it will not be us doing the accomplishing — but Christ in and through us. As He promised us, “Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given you besides.” (Matt 6:33)

Brad Torline is associate director for the Office of Catechesis and Evangelization, Diocese of Covington, Ky.

‘Give us this day our daily bread’ — The new manna

By David Cooley.

In the first installment of “The Eucharist: The Source and Summit” we focused on the doctrine of Jesus’ Real Presence and on prefigurements of the Eucharist in the Old Testament. In this second installment we now turn to the New Testament and will focus on the scriptural scenes and passages that pave the way for the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper.

Early in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus teaches his disciples to pray the “Our Father.” (Mt 6:9-15) It’s interesting that, in the fourth petition of the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus invites us to pray for food: “give us this day our daily bread.” This seems the most “human” or “practical” of all seven petitions in the prayer. Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus tells us to “not be anxious about your life or what you shall eat” (Mt 6:25), yet he invites us to pray for what is necessary each day. Is it possible that Jesus is referring to a “daily bread” that is both physical and spiritual?

The fourth petition of the Lord’s Prayer and Jesus’ teaching against anxiety acknowledge our earthly needs but they also call us to turn our cares and worries over to God. We rest in God’s providence and we are called to have faith — an attitude of trust in the presence of God and openness to his will. It is not a blind trust, but an assent to what has been revealed to us.

So, while there is clearly a straightforward, earthly sense to this petition, there are deeper and higher dimensions as well.

The earthly sense is that we need sustenance to survive, and we should trust that God will take care of us. As, St. Cyprian (d. 258 AD) observes: anyone who asks for bread each day is poor. In other words, the prayer presupposes the poverty of the disciples — those who have renounced the world, seek no security other than God and pray for the fulfillment of his kingdom

The deeper dimension is found in the context of the Exodus, when the People of God, wandering in the desert, were fed by God himself with “manna from heaven.” Jesus referred back to that story when he said, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God” (Mt 4:4; Deut 8:3). In this context, “our daily bread” is the Eucharist, the new manna from heaven.

In the fifth chapter of his book, “Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration” (Ignatius Press, 2007), Pope Benedict XVI points out that the Fathers of the Church were practically unanimous in understanding the fourth petition of the Our Father as a Eucharistic petition. “[I]n this sense the Our Father figures into the Mass liturgy as a Eucharistic table-prayer (i.e. ‘grace’).” (“Jesus of Nazareth,” pg. 154) In other words, the Our Father is our prayer before the meal at our Lord’s Table.

When Jesus feeds 5,000 people by miraculously multiplying bread we are reminded, again, of the miracle of manna in the desert. In the ancient Jewish tradition it was believed that manna was originally from the Garden of Eden but, after the fall of man, was taken away and stored in heaven. Therefore, manna was a perfect food unaffected by sin, and only appeared when God sent a mediator to deliver his people from slavery. It was also believed that the Messiah who was to come would be a new Moses and would bring with him a new manna. In the Bread of Life discourse (Jn 6:35-59), Jesus repeatedly refers to “manna from heaven,” using it to explain to his disciples how they would be able to eat his flesh and drink his blood. It seems just that the new manna provided by the Messiah would be even more miraculous than the ancient manna provided in the wilderness. Jesus said: “I am the living bread which came down from heaven; if anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (Jn 6:51) When Jesus was in danger of losing many disciples because of this hard teaching he said, “For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.” (Jn 6:55)

New Testament scholars widely agree that Jesus is speaking here about the Eucharistic food and drink that he will give the disciples at the Last Supper. If we consider Jesus’ words in the Bread of Life discourse from an ancient Jewish perspective then the Eucharist could never be just a symbol, it must be supernatural bread from heaven. The Eucharist is a gift of himself that Jesus left behind for all time for the people of the New Testament — us. He left us himself in his sacrifice offered under the appearance of bread and wine. It is a manifestation of his boundless love. It is a uniquely intense fulfillment of the promise: “Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Mt 28:20

In the gospels, when Jesus speaks of bread or uses bread to perform a miracle there is always a transcendent message that mankind’s true food is the Logos, the eternal Word. In the Blessed Sacrament the Eternal Word becomes true manna for us, a taste of heaven that we can experience this very day. Being in communion with God, we are sharing in the life of Jesus’ bodily resurrection. The Eucharist, our daily bread, is spiritual food for our soul, giving us graces for our journey back to God.

David Cooley is co-director and office manager of the Office of Catechesis and Evangelization.

Born in Bethlehem — the ‘House of Bread’

By Father Nicholas Rottman.

Okay, I’ll admit it, “O little town of the House of Bread” does not have quite the same ring to it as “O little town of Bethlehem.” But, although not helpful for singing, it may be very helpful for our faith to know that “Bethlehem” means exactly that. The name is old Hebrew and comes from bêth (house) and lehem (bread). As Christians, we recognize immediately the significance. Bethlehem, the “House of Bread,” was the place where Jesus Christ entered the world on that first Christmas morning. How does Jesus describe himself later on in his public ministry? “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst” (Jn. 6:35). In this passage, Jesus emphasizes that he is the nourishment, the food that we as believers need to strengthen us as we make our pilgrimage through this land of exile. But what sort of nourishment is this? Is it just a purely spiritual nourishment? No.

By the time of Jesus’ birth, Hebrew was not the spoken language of the Jewish people, but rather Arabic. Interesting, the Arabic equivalent of bêth lehem is bêt lahm, which means “house of meat.” You just can’t make this stuff up! Jesus promises that he will feed us not just by some spiritual power or grace but also with his own flesh and blood: “My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. […] This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.” (Jn 6:55–56, 58) In the holy Eucharist, Jesus provides food for the world — the food of his body, blood, soul and divinity. And God symbolically prefigured all of this through the name of the town where he was born. Christ, born in the House of Bread, has become our food for the journey of life.

This Christmas, we should have a new appreciating of the Nativity Scene thanks to the meaning of “Bethlehem.” There in a manger — a container for holding food and feeding hungry animals — lays the Bread of Life who will sacrifice his flesh to give us new life. Bethlehem is truly both the House of Bread from Heaven and the House of the meat of Christ’s body. Indeed, this is why it is so important that we celebrate Christmas (Christ-Mass) by attending holy Mass and receiving the Body of Christ in holy Communion.

As we prepare for that celebration through the Advent season, let us remember that Christ can come to us every day — every day can be Christmas —because of the holy Eucharist. St. Bernard of Clairvaux said that there are three comings of Jesus Christ (see Sermo 5, In Adventu Domini, 1-3). The first, which we are preparing to celebrate at Christmas, is his coming as man at the Incarnation. The second, which we look forward to with a mixture of anticipation and fear, is his coming to judge the living and the dead at the end of the world. In between these two comings, said St. Bernard, is a third coming. That is Jesus’ mysterious and sacramental coming to us in the most holy Eucharist. By our worthy reception, may we ourselves become a new Bethlehem — a house of the Bread of Life and a house of the meat of Christ’s body in the most holy Eucharist.

Father Nicholas Rottman is a priest in the Diocese of Covington, currently on sabbatical.

The feeding of the five thousand and the Eucharist

By Father Ryan Stenger.

The only one of the miracles of Jesus that is included in all four of the Gospel accounts is his feeding of the crowd of five thousand with miraculously multiplied bread and fish. Obviously this event greatly affected the first Christians and was influential in forming their understanding of the Lord’s identity and mission.

In the Gospel according to John, the miracle of the feeding of the five thousand is reported at the beginning of the sixth chapter and is followed by the Lord’s famous Bread of Life discourse, in which Christ explains to the crowd his teaching on the Eucharist, thus drawing a strong connection between the miraculous feeding of the crowd and the sacrament of his Body and Blood that he would institute at the Last Supper. The evangelist also emphasizes this connection in his description of the time and place of the miracle. St. John writes, “Jesus went up on the mountain, and there he sat down with his disciples” (John 6:3). So often throughout the Bible the mountaintop is where God and man come together most profoundly. Moses received the Ten Commandments on Mt. Sinai, the prophet Elijah spoke to God in the silent whisper on Mt. Horeb, Christ himself was transfigured in glory on Mt. Tabor, and crucified on Calvary. According to the ancient imagination, the mountain was the place where heaven and earth meet, the symbol of God reaching down to us as we reach up to him.

And St. John also writes, “The Jewish feast of Passover was near” (John 6:4). It was on Passover that the sacrificial lambs were put to death in remembrance of God’s liberation of the Jewish people from slavery in Egypt. Of course, Christ would die on the Cross at Passover time, as the true Lamb of God whose sacrifice saves us from death and liberates us from slavery to sin. And so, with these details, St. John is showing that the miracle that Christ performed in feeding this massive crowd was not simply a matter of providing ordinary food, but that it was symbolic of something much more, that the bread he gave them prefigured the Bread of Life about which he would go on to teach them, the Eucharist — the place where heaven and earth meet, the unbloody re-presentation of the sacrifice of the Cross, the Lord’s sacred Body offered up and his precious Blood poured out.

It’s easy to imagine that enormous crowd of five thousand following the Lord across the Sea of Galilee and up the mountain. They surely must have been hungry and weary and maybe even lost and confused. How many times throughout their lives had they sought for a way to satisfy their hunger, for a place to find rest, for a source of guidance and direction, but been left unfulfilled in the end? But now they have come to Christ. And after they have been fed by him, St. John tells us that they “had their fill” and still there were twelve baskets of bread left over (John 6:12). That crowd stands for all of mankind, because we all have a profound spiritual hunger, a longing for more than what the world can give. Our hearts reach out towards the infinite, the transcendent, the divine, because God has made us for himself. Only in him are we able to have our fill, so to speak.

And it is in the Eucharist that he gives himself to us as food to sustain us on our journey towards him, as the only food that is able to satisfy that most fundamental longing of our hearts. If it were merely a symbol, it would not be enough, but the Lord gives himself to us truly in the Eucharist — his Body and Blood, his soul and divinity. And he gives himself to us not simply in a momentary way during the liturgy, but he remains with us always in the Tabernacle. His presence abides in our midst; he lives within his Church, so that we always have access to him, so that we’re always able to find our sustenance in communion with him.

The Second Vatican Council taught that the Eucharist is the source and summit of the whole Christian life (Lumen Gentium, n. 11). It is in the Eucharist that God lives among us — from him do our lives come and to him are our lives directed. He must indeed be the source and summit of our lives, as a Church, as a diocese, as parishes, as families, as individuals. But sometimes we lose sight of that. It seems so common to hear the Church spoken of as a sort of social service agency, which exists to run hospitals, and schools, and soup kitchens, but then for it to be forgotten that her primary purpose, the reason for all of her activity, is the worship of God. A parish, for example, can do all sorts of great things, but if it doesn’t draw its people closer to Christ in the Eucharist, then it has completely failed in its mission. And it is the same way in our individual lives. We can become so consumed with activity and busy-ness, even good and important and necessary things, that we lose sight of God living in our midst, that we sometimes even tell ourselves that we don’t have time to spend with him and worship him. Sometimes we look for our sustenance and satisfaction in other places; sometimes we direct our lives to other ends.

But the Lord’s miraculous feeding of the five thousand reminds us that only he can truly feed us, only he can satisfy the restlessness of our hearts. May we never look for our happiness apart from him who lives with us always in the Eucharist, so that we might live at all times with him as the source and summit of all that we do.

Father Ryan Stenger, J.C.L., is pastor, St. Joseph Parish, Camp Springs; and judge, Diocesan Tribunal Office.

The Bread of Life discourse — have you come to believe?

By Father Michael Comer.

“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you will not have life within you.” Jesus spoke these words to a group of his disciples — those who had already begun to follow him, and who had at least the beginnings of faith in him. But these words shocked them to the core. The very idea of eating the flesh and drinking the blood of Jesus was totally repulsive to them. In fact, they were, as Jews, forbidden to have any contact with blood at all. It made them ritually unclean. And so, they turned away from him. We are told that they returned to their former ways of life. They abandoned him, and refused to have any more to do with him. This was just too much.

We read this account in the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John — what is called the Bread of Life discourse. It is a dialogue between Jesus and his followers, who have experienced the miracle of the multiplication of the bread and fishes, and want him to continue to provide for their physical sustenance. Jesus explains that they have missed the point. God wishes to feed them with bread from heaven that will give them eternal life. “Give us this bread always,” they respond.

Jesus then begins to explain to them that he himself is the Bread from Heaven. He is the only one who can satisfy the deepest hungers of the human heart. Only he can give them eternal life. If they eat this bread they will never be hungry again. They will never thirst again. They are shocked, because they have never heard this kind of talk from a rabbi before. Each of them taught about God and how God would satisfy their deepest longings. But Jesus is saying that he himself will fulfill their deepest longings. This is scandalous at best, and blatant heresy at worst. Who does he think he is? Who, indeed!

At this point in the discourse, Jesus changes the metaphors. He no longer speaks of bread from heaven, but of his own flesh and blood. “The bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” This is even more shocking. “How can he give us his flesh to eat? What can this possibly mean?” And now Jesus becomes even more shocking in his statements.

“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you will have no life in you.” Now he is not only talking about eating his flesh, but drinking his blood. How repulsive! How disgusting! How offensive! Jesus keeps pushing the issue, not softening his words in any way. In fact, he doubles down, beginning to use a new word for “eat”, which is typically used to refer to a dog gnawing on a bone. “My flesh is real food, and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh (whoever gnaws on my flesh like a dog gnawing on a bone) and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him.”

It is at this moment that the line had been crossed. Jesus had gone too far. It is one thing to say that God will provide for his children. It is something else for Jesus to identify himself with God and tell them that he would provide for them. If Jesus had said that God had sent him to provide for his people that would have been somewhat acceptable. But when Jesus essentially made himself equal to God that was too much. And when he said that we must eat his body and drink his blood, that was really too much. But now, he has become even more graphic, even more literal, telling us that we must actually gnaw or chew on his flesh and drink his blood — this is a bridge too far.

I am certain that Jesus must have felt a great sadness as he watched these followers of his turn away, and reject not only this teaching but also him. He loved them. He had come in order to redeem them, and to be the food that would satisfy them, and make them into the children of God. It must have broken his heart. Couldn’t he have tried a little harder to hold on to them, and not let them leave? Couldn’t he have softened his teaching just a little bit, so that it would have been less shocking and upsetting to them? But he didn’t. He let them walk away. If they could not accept this teaching, they could not be his disciples. This was that important.

We then see Jesus look with sadness to the Twelve. His words are filled with hurt and disappointment and fear. “Are you going to leave me, too?” My guess is that the Apostles were just as shocked and confused by this teaching as were those in the crowd. They too were repulsed and repelled by the idea of eating Jesus’ flesh and drinking his blood. They were shaken to the core. And yet Peter responds, for all of them, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe that you are the Holy One of God.” In other words, “We don’t get this either. It makes no sense to us. But we know and believe in you, and so we are staying. We trust you.”

Some studies state that on any given Sunday, only about 20 percent of those who identify as Catholic attend Mass. And only about half attend with any regularity at all. There are many reasons for this, but I believe that one of the main reasons is that in their heart, many Catholics do not believe what Jesus tells us in this Bread of Life discourse. “I am the Bread that has come down from heaven. … I am the Bread of Life. … Your ancestors ate the manna in the desert, yet they died. If you eat this bread, you will live forever. … This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. … Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man, and drink his blood, you will not have life within you. … My flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. … Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”

If we truly believe the words of Jesus and what he is promising to those who eat his flesh and drink his blood, how could we possibly absent ourselves from the Mass?

Let us pray for a rediscovery, by the Catholic people, of the remarkable gift of the Eucharist, the Bread from Heaven, and the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ himself.

Father Michael Comer is the pastor of Mother of God Parish, Covington.

In the sacrament of the Eucharist, why bread and wine?

By Father Daniel Schomaker.

The Eucharist is “the source and summit of the Christian life. The other sacraments, and indeed all ecclesiastical ministries and works of the apostolate, are bound up with the Eucharist and are oriented toward it. For in the blessed Eucharist is contained the whole spiritual good of the Church, namely Christ himself, our Pasch.” (CCC 1324) The Church’s teaching in memoriam tells us that contained in the “sacred species” and veiled in the objects of bread and wine, is in fact Jesus Christ! His very body, blood, soul and divinity!

But why when we celebrate the sacrament of the Eucharist do we use bread and wine? The simplest explanation is that we are adhering to the command of the Lord when at the Last Supper “He took bread and gave it to his disciples…” and “He took the cup filled with wine …  ‘Do this in memory of me.’” Ultimately as believers this should be enough, but since God has given us a mind let’s delve a little deeper.

After being cast out of the Garden of Eden because of disobedience, God tells man that it is “bread you shall eat, by the sweat of your brow.” (cf. Gen. 3:19) Humanity also offers back to God the “first-fruits” of the field — as seen in the offering of Abel and later in the offering of bread and wine by the priest-king Melchizedek. Prior to their journey into the desert as they fled Egypt, the Israelites ate “unleavened bread”; and when wandering in the desert, it was the manna or “bread from heaven” that God gave to sustain them.

The gift of bread to eat (which we pray for every time we offer the Lord’s Prayer) is a sign of “the pledge of God’s faithfulness to his promises.” (CCC 1334) Or another way to say this is that in the midst of the trials of life and on our pilgrimage towards the “promised land” (Heaven) and in our thanksgiving to God for any and all blessings, it is bread that always sustains us physically and reminds us of God’s closeness.

The gift of wine or “the fruit of the vine” also finds its way into the revelation of salvation history. Just as there was an offering of bread in the Old Testament, so too was there an offering of wine — often referred to as the “cup of blessing.” At the conclusion of the Jewish Passover meal, this “cup” “adds to the festive joy of wine an eschatological dimension: the messianic expectation of the rebuilding of Jerusalem.” (CCC 1334) We also see, in Jesus’ very first public miracle — the Wedding Feast at Cana  — the centrality of wine, where he transforms water into wine, but not just any wine, the very best wine. And this miracle takes place at a joyful celebration.

So, why do we use bread and wine for the celebration of the Eucharist? 1. Jesus said to; 2. Bread points us to the continual sustenance we receive from the Lord when we cooperate with his grace; 3. Wine points us to the joy of the Gospel and of our eschatological end, heaven; 4. Human beings are a compilation of body and soul; both need to be fed — bread sustains the body; wine sustains the soul.

Father Daniel Schomaker is vicar general; pastor, St. Augustine Parish, Covington; moderator of the Curia; and assistant director of seminarians in the Diocese of Covington.

Scratching the surface of ‘an inexhaustible mystery’

By David Cooley.

Under the direction of Bishop Roger Foys, the Office of Catechesis and Evangelization has teamed up with the Messenger to produce catechetical articles on the Eucharist. Long-term readers of the Messenger will recognize these articles since they were published previously. However, they have been re-structured here. This series on the Eucharist covers a variety topics, but, of course, with limited space and the fact that this is an exploration at the very center of theology, we are only scratching the surface. I hope that reading these short articles inspires you to explore more and to take every opportunity you are given to meet our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

Our faith is born from and expressed in theology (speech about God).  Theology, in turn, remains, as St. Anselm once defined it, a matter of “faith seeking understanding.” What we believe, we try to understand further; when we understand further, we believe more deeply. To grow in the faith means to engage in this cyclical process of seeking God. The reason we want to grow in faith is so that we can love God all the more.

Not long ago a Pew Research study reported that “Just one-third of U.S. Catholics agree with their Church that the Eucharist is the body, blood of Christ.”

This particular study noted that “ … nearly seven-in-ten Catholics (69 percent) say they personally believe that during Catholic Mass, the bread and wine used in Communion ‘are symbols of the body and blood of Jesus Christ.’ Just one-third of U.S. Catholics (31 percent) say they believe that ‘during Catholic Mass, the bread and wine actually become the body and blood of Jesus.’”

This, understandably, caused shock waves to resound throughout the Church for anyone who was paying attention. However, there is reason to believe that we shouldn’t panic — yet. In this case, hopefully at least, things don’t seem to be as bad as they first appear. One factor to consider is sample size. The Disciple Maker Index, administered by the Catholic Leadership Institute, has currently surveyed 131,845 Catholics around the country about multiple themes connected with parish life.  (By contrast, the PEW survey was based on 1,835 Catholics in a total sample population of 10,971.)

When asked about doctrines of the faith, 72 percent of the DMI respondents strongly agreed with the statement “I personally believe the Eucharist really is the body and blood of Jesus Christ.” Another 19 percent agreed with that statement. That’s almost 120,000 Catholics claiming they do agree with what the Church teaches, compared to the 569 respondents highlighted in the PEW results.

Also, when considering the PEW survey, it has been pointed out that phraseology may have be an issue. The word “actually,” used in the Pew study, may have been interpreted as referring to a physical change, which would explain why few Catholics chose that response. If so, they were correct, in that the Church does not teach that there is a physical change in appearance.

In addition, John Bergsma, professor of theology at Franciscan University, Steubenville, Ohio, noted that many of the “self-identified” Catholics surveyed probably don’t show up at to Mass very often, if at all.

“Really what this poll shows, once again, is that there are large numbers of persons in the United States who consider themselves ‘Catholic’ almost as an ethnic or cultural category, because they received one or more sacraments when they were children, or their family is traditionally Catholic.

“However,” professor Bergsma said, “although these persons consider themselves ‘Catholic’ as a demographic category, they haven’t and don’t practice the Catholic faith, and they haven’t made much effort to learn what the Catholic Church teaches.”

My hope is that these observations help put this survey, and others like it, into perspective. This is important because there is a danger of such “shock-value” headlines becoming self-fulfilling prophesies. The more people feel alone in their beliefs the easier it is for doubt to take root in their hearts. Catholics believe in the True Presence — body, blood, soul and divinity of Christ — in the Eucharist; they always have and always will. But, that being said, there are still some hard realities that are worth taking a closer look at during these unprecedented times.

Long before the word “coronavirus” was part of our daily speech, our Catholic churches weren’t exactly over flowing with people on a weekly basis. With the exception of Christmas and, maybe, Easter, most people weren’t worried about arriving early to Mass so that they could find a seat. There are many factors and explanations for this that could be explored. But I think it’s fair to say that the general long-term trend in the Eastern and Northern parts of our country has been a steady decline in numbers.

Now, in the post-pandemic-of-2020 world, there is, understandably, anxiety among those who care for souls what Mass attendance numbers will look like when all of this is over, and what the long-term effects will be on the sacramental life of the Church. Being forced away from the sacraments, even if it was only for a short time, could easily cause confusion for the faithful, or even, God forbid, a notion that the sacraments are not needed for salvation. For believers, the Catechism of the Catholic Church does not mince words about this and affirms that “the sacraments of the New Covenant are necessary for salvation.” (n. 1129)

There’s a story about an evangelical Protestant preacher who once said, “If I truly believed what you Catholics say you believe, you would have to pull me away from the tabernacle. If I believed that my Lord was physically present in the church building I would never leave.” Now, of course, we can’t just stay in front of the tabernacle any more that Peter, James and John could stay up on the mountain with Jesus after he was transfigured (Mt. 17:1-10), but the message remains the same and the point is well taken. For us believers there is kind of a paradox: People don’t go to Mass because they don’t believe in the Real Presence, and they don’t believe in the Real Presence because if it were true, then wouldn’t the churches be full?

Like everything else in our lives, “it’s complicated.” But, here is one thing we can be sure of: Catholic theologians and teachers, as well as parents and Godparents, will always have work to do in communicating belief in the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, since the notion and reality of transubstantiation remains “an inexhaustible mystery.” You have to start somewhere and these editions of the Messenger are the perfect place.

‘In the Beginning … ’ The Eucharist prefigured in the Old Testament

By Dr. Alma Burnette.

“In beginning created Elohim (…) the heavens and the earth.” Genesis 1:1

In the center of this verse, in Hebrew, is an untranslatable word, which is two Hebrew letters — the “aleph” and the “tav” — the first and last letters of the Hebrew alphabet. In Greek the letters are the Alpha and the Omega. It serves the grammatical purpose of being the direct object pointer. These two letters form a concept rather than an actual word. They represent all the words of God by which all things were spoken into existence, including the Eucharist. These two letters are peppered throughout the Old Testament, seasoning its meaning. The rabbis teach:

When the Messiah comes he will explain the meaning of the aleph and the tav. And he did in Revelation: “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” (Rev. 22:12) The same concept is in John 1:1.

When God made man, he made him out of the earth’s pre-created dust and breathed life into the lifeless form, bringing man into being by his previously spoken words, “Let us make man in our image.”

During the Mass the priest says, “Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made. It will become for us the bread of life. … Blessed are you, Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands. It will become our spiritual drink.”

The priest is exercising his ordained authority to bring life to the lifeless bread and wine, previously made by human hands, fulfilling Christ’s previous words, “This is my body. … This is my blood.”

Just as the lifeless form of the first Adam, became a living soul so the lifeless form of the bread and wine become the body, blood, soul and divinity of the second Adam, Christ.

In Genesis 2 God causes a deep sleep to fall on Adam, and from his side comes forth Eve. Adam exclaims, “This is bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh.” God allowed Christ to die, a deep sleep for his body, and his side, too, was opened (pierced) for the Church to come forth. St. Paul writes, “Because we are members of his body we are of his flesh and of his bone.” (Eph 5:30) How so? By the Eucharist being consumed at the Mass, the marriage supper of the Lamb.

In Genesis 2 and 3 the two trees planted in the middle of the garden foreshadow the Eucharist. It was a rabbi who once explained it to me.

The fruit of the trees was manna. The tree of life had unleavened manna and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil had leavened manna, both heavenly bread.” Evidence of this is found in Genesis 3:19: “In the sweat of your face shalt thou eat bread …”

The word “fruit” means more than apples, oranges or figs. It means “the product of,” like “fruit of the womb.” Adam and Eve never prepared food before disobeying God. The couple only ate from the trees, not from anything that grew from the ground, such as grain. Now, after the disobedience, Adam would work to obtain bread, and since, it did not require work before, it had to be a product of a tree — the tree of life.

With this understanding, the text in John 6:5 and Romans 5 becomes more clear. Death came into the world by the first Adam eating outside of the will of God, from the tree of knowledge of good and evil (the Law); life comes into the world by eating according to the will of God, Christ’s flesh and blood — the Eucharist, the fruit of the tree of life we call the Cross. Both are heavenly bread. The Jews prophesized that when the Messiah came he would elevate the meaning of the manna.

Eucharistic prefiguration continues throughout Genesis: the blood of Able “cries out” … fulfilled in Hebrews 12:24 where Jesus’s blood speaks; Noah planting a vineyard and grain after the flood and being permitted to eat clean animals … animals originally only for sacrifice now allowed by eating to become bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh; Abraham receiving from Melchizedek bread and wine; Jacob clothes himself in Esau’s clothes (Incarnation) and receiving the inheritance which included grain for bread and plenty of wine, that Esau, the first son (Adam) sold; Joseph depending on Pharaoh’s bread maker and cupbearer for deliverance. One died, one lived — death and resurrection in the Eucharist. Later Joseph reveals himself to his brothers after placing a cup into the grain. This led to their confession, reconciliation and the salvation of the world through grain for bread distribution.


Moses is a type (a prefiguration) of Christ. Both were born at a time when oppressors were killing Hebrew babies. Both had unusual first cribs. Both of them were raised by a man who was not their natural father. Both were God’s appointed delivers. Both were intercessors. Both offered their own lives to save the people. Both fasted 40 days and nights. Both gave up great riches to serve. Both, at their first appearance, were rejected by their own people. Both proclaimed commandments. Both provided food and drink. The list could go on and on.

There are many Eucharistic connections between the first Exodus in the Old Testament and the second Exodus brought on by Jesus.

Moses’ first public miracle was changing water to blood. Jesus’ first public miracle was changing water to wine, a forerunner of the greater miracle of changing wine to his own blood. Moses was the first priest to represent all the people. In this new position, he proclaims the Torah to the people. Jesus, the High Priest, proclaims and also fulfilled the Torah during his three-year ministry — the same number of years it takes to read through the Torah reading cycle in synagogues. After proclaiming the Torah, Moses threw the blood of the sacrifice on the people saying, “Behold the blood of the covenant which the Lord has made for you.” The priest during the Mass lifts the consecrated host and wine and says, “Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world … ”

Moses publicly consecrates Aaron, which began the priesthood (Kohanim succession) that continues to this day. All Kohens must trace their authority back to Aaron’s consecration. Only these men and the other Levites were permitted to offer sacrifices and other priestly duties for the people. This is what Jesus did with the institution of the Twelve for apostolic succession. Only they and those they ordain have the authority to offer the Mass, announce forgiveness, etc.

The Levitical men, while serving as priests, though most were married, had to be celibate for the weeks they served as priests (five non-consecutive weeks per year, see I Samuel 21:1-5; Leviticus 15:18, 22:4). Priests ordained in the New Testament serve year-round. Peter, a married Jew, probably abstained (I Corinthians 7:5-7) before offering the sacrifice of the Mass. The lay priesthood does not have to be celibate because they are the receivers of the sacrifice, not the ones who offer.

The manna in the wilderness is explained in John 6. The manna is related to the unleavened “Bread of the Presence,” also translated the “Bread of the Faces” (plural), which was commanded to be on a table in the Holy Place in the Tabernacle (and the future Temple) perpetually. It foreshadowed Christ’s presence as the bread, the visible yet invisible face of God (Exodus 25:23-30; Leviticus 24:5-7; Numbers 4:7; John 14:9).

The Passover feast is a monumental foreshadowing of the Eucharist. In this article, I will only touch on details normally not covered elsewhere. For instance, the way the blood of the lamb was strategically smeared on the doors: they poured the blood, not in a basin as translated, but in a dugout hole in the threshold of the door. They dipped the hyssop into the blood, applied it to the two side posts and on the lintel (top) of each door. By observation, one could see the result of the smearing as an upright version of the Paleo Hebrew letter TAV. This letter means: the finish, the covenant, the mark, the sign and the signature (Exodus 12:13). The Hebrew letter looks like two crossed sticks — a cross, a cross with blood on it in the same location as the blood on Jesus’ cross.

The Last Supper Jesus had with his disciple was probably not the Passover meal itself. The reason: the Passover lambs had not yet been sacrificed; Jesus had to die with the Passover lambs to fulfill the typology, which began with his birth (all Passover lambs during the second temple period had to be born in Bethlehem). The meal celebrated the evening before the Passover lambs were sacrificed was probably the Todah sacrificial meal (Leviticus 7:12-15, 22). “Todah” in Hebrew means “thanksgiving”; in Greek the word is “Eucharistia.” It could be any time of the year as often as desired and was often eaten on the evenings surrounding the actual Passover night. The Todah meal was to give thanks for individual or family deliverance from peril or death. The Passover meal was a collective Todah meal designated for all Israel to eat together on one specific night, once a year, to celebrate a national deliverance.

The Todah meals had lamb, unleavened bread, cups of wine, prayers and hymns (the Hallel psalms are Todah psalms). The Todah sacrifice is considered the greatest of the animal sacrifices because it added suffering of one’s own life (see Psalm 69:30). The Todah is a subcategory of the peace offerings (Leviticus 7:12-15), the only sacrifice non-priests are permitted to share in its sacrificial meal. The Todah offering was listed in the passage about the seventy-four being called to go up the mountain with Moses (Exodus 24:1-11). While there, they beheld God as they ate and drank. So too, on the night before the official Passover, the Twelve Apostles were called to go up with Jesus to an upper room. There they beheld God (Jesus) as they ate and drank. From that night on his body, blood, soul and divinity sacrifice would be called the Eucharist — Todah in Hebrew.

If the Lord’s Supper was the Todah meal and not the yearly Passover meal, we have an explanation as to why the first Christians, who were Jews, immediately began celebrating this sacrificial meal weekly, and sometimes daily, instead of once a year. The ancient rabbis believed that after the Messiah comes all sacrifices except the Todah would cease. They were correct! Today, at the end of the Mass, the congregation exclaims, “Thanks be to God” — in Hebrew, “Todah laEl.”

The foreshadowing of the Eucharist continues in the rest of the Old Testament. The following observations are only brief reflections and barely scratch the surface.

First, let’s consider the two great harvests of Israel — the spring harvest of grain and the fall harvest of mostly grapes and olives — bread, wine and oil. In Leviticus 23:12-13 God unites bread and wine, priests who anoint with oil and the sacrifice of the lamb.

Next, David is a type of Jesus starting with his birth in Bethlehem (House of Bread), and his being chosen by God for the dual role of king and priest — a priestly-king in the order of Melchizedek, the one who brought bread and wine to Abraham (Heb 7:17 quoting Psalm 110:40). There are also many Eucharistic images written by David in the psalms, such as Psalm 23, which contains the Eucharistic prophecy: “Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.” It is interesting to note that this psalm follows Psalm 22 — the passion psalm.

Now comes Elijah in the wilderness. (I Kgs 19:6) While in the wilderness, Elijah was awakened by an angel and found prepared for him bread in the shape of a cake and a jar of water. The bread in the shape of a cake is like the host of the holy Eucharist. The jar of water foreshadows the water turned to wine at Cana.

After the prophet Elijah comes Elisha, who miraculously feeds a hundred men with a small amount of food, a type of loaves and fishes miracle, which prefigured Jesus multiplying himself in the Eucharist.

All this is followed by Isaiah’s prophecies and his vision in chapter 7, the chapter where a coal of fire is taken from the fiery altar of God and is touched to Isaiah’s lips. The fiery coal is a prefiguration of the Host. This allusion is referred to in Church liturgies, especially in the Orthodox Liturgy of St. James where Communion is described as “receiving the fiery coal,” due to its cleansing of Isaiah to prepare him for his mission.

Another pre-Eucharistic episode is found in the vision of Ezekiel eating the scroll with the written Word of God on it — a scroll made edible (Ezek 2). This vision is experienced in the two parts of the Mass. In the first part, the Liturgy of the Word, we hear the written Word through the proclamations, we see the written Word before our eyes, and then we prepare to partake of the Word through the homily. In the second part, the Liturgy of the Eucharist, we eat the Word of God — the Word made flesh, the Word made edible.

Dr. Alma Burnette is a parishioner at St. Paul Parish, Florence. She has a master’s degree in theology and a Ph.D. in Biblical studies. She is a writer, speaker, teacher and graphic designer. She is currently the president of Word Truths Ministries and a media assistant at Holmes High School.

Real Presence in the Eucharist

By Father Jeffrey VonLehmen.

In the Gospels Jesus says, “This is my body” and “This is my blood.” What does that mean to each of us?

How is Jesus present in the Eucharist? Most of us, at one time or another, find ourselves either asking that question or trying to explain the mystery for someone else. Catholics believe that the Body and Blood of Jesus are present in consecrated bread and wine. We do not say the Eucharist is like the Body and Blood of Jesus, but that it is the Body and Blood of Jesus.

In the Gospels, Jesus says, “This is my body,” and “This is my blood.” That is strong language. It is language Christians have sought to understand for many centuries. In the Eucharist, we proclaim the mystery of faith. And it is a mystery! But the mystery of the kingdom of God and the Eucharist is meant to be obvious although it cannot be reduced to human logic. Sometimes, what is most obvious is most overlooked.

I invite you to look at the obvious — our ordinary human experiences — to help make sense of the Eucharist and Real Presence. Why does it make sense for Catholics to believe in what traditionally has been called transubstantiation (the changing of the whole substance of the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ)? Why is it important to say that the Eucharist is a concrete encounter of the community with Jesus and not just a spiritual thing between an individual and God? In our own human experience, we can discover why real presence and the body-and-blood presence of Christ are important to us and to God.

Flesh and Blood Relationships

We often think of spiritual as invisible. But who wants an invisible relationship with a loved one?

Consider this example. A father leaves work early on a weekday, drives five hours to another city to be present at his son’s college basketball game, and then drives home the same night. The father arrives home about 5 a.m., catches an hour of sleep, and then goes to work.

He does this often. Perhaps it would be enough to tell his son over the phone that he is thinking about him and cheering and praying for him. But think how much more it means to the child that his father is not just there in spirit — he is there in flesh. He is providing real presence for his son. What a big difference!

When we love someone, we want a concrete relationship, and the loving Spirit of God always seeks a body-and-blood relationship with us. That’s what we celebrate in the Incarnation at Christmas and in the death and resurrection of Jesus on Good Friday and Easter.

The Spirit dwells in us so we might experience God, who wants a real relationship with us. We need a body-and-blood relationship with God in Christ. Yet we can only begin to understand the body and blood of Jesus when we understand true love in relationships involving friends, family and marriage.

Sacrifice and Life

Think in terms of word associations. When I say “green” someone might think of grass. When I say “blue,” one might think of the sky. In our culture, when someone says “blood,” we probably think of something terrible, of violence or loss of life. When we hear about body and blood as sacrifice, as in the sacrifice of the Mass, we think somebody or something has been killed. But in the ancient Hebrew mentality, if an animal was sacrificed to God, the people did not think the animal was killed to appease an angry God. Instead, they thought of blood as the presence of life. Sacrifice was not so much giving up their best lamb or the first and best part of their crop. Sacrifice meant communion of life.

This brings to mind the wonderful image of an infant in the mother’s womb. The infant is being nourished through the umbilical cord by the body and blood of the mother. The baby is receiving life! The mother’s body is making all kinds of changes and sacrifices for the infant in her womb, and the mother is very conscious of the communion she has with her infant. The bond between mother and baby is truly a body-and-blood relationship.

The bond between God, our loving parent, and us is just as strong and concrete. God wants a body-and-blood relationship with us, and this concrete relationship is made possible in Christ. God so loved the world that he sent his only Son. Christ’s sacrifice in becoming one like us in the Incarnation and in his passion on the Cross establishes a communion of life, a real presence in which we are assured that God desires us as much as we desire him.

The bread and wine are not simply like the body and blood of Christ they are the body-and-blood presence of Christ. This is because our relationship is that concrete, that real, that wonderful! Jesus is God revealing God’s self to us. Neither God nor we want an invisible relationship — we want the real thing!

We can increase our understanding of God’s presence during the Eucharistic prayer and Communion by thinking about being in the womb of God where we are fed concretely through the umbilical cord of the Holy Spirit.

Demonstrating the importance of this sacrament, a Catholic visionary once said, “If I had a choice between a vision and the Eucharist, I would choose the Eucharist.” Truly the Eucharist is a real, interpersonal encounter between God and the worshiping community precisely because Christ is body-and-blood present. Our human experiences of love and relationships tell us that any lover seeks concrete union with the beloved.

The love expressed in the Eucharist is as old as Christmas. It is like the love between a mother and her infant in the womb. It is the love of God in Christ for his people not yet fully born into the reign of God: ” … the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world, … Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” (John 6:5l-56)

The Different Modes of Christ’s Presence

In order that they should achieve a deeper understanding of the mystery of the Eucharist, the faithful should be instructed in the principal ways in which the Lord is present to his Church in liturgical celebrations.

He is always present in a body of the faithful gathered in his name (see Matt 18:20). He is present, too, in his Word, for it is he who speaks when the Scriptures are read in the Church.

In the sacrifice of the Eucharist he is present both in the person of the minister, “the same now offering through the ministry of the priest who formerly offered himself on the cross,” and above all under the species of the Eucharist. For in this sacrament Christ is present in a unique way, whole and entire, God and man, substantially and permanently. The Sacred Congregation of Rites, instruction on the Worship of Eucharistic Ministry, sates that this presence of Christ under the species “is called ‘real’ not in an exclusive sense, as if the other kinds of presence were not real, but par excellence.” (Sacred Congregation of Rites, instruction on the Worship of Eucharistic Ministry, no.9)

The Body of Christ

There is no doubt that a body-and-blood relationship exists between a mother and her child. But they don’t think of each other as body and blood. They think about the human relationship between them, whether or not it is a mutually loving relationship. It’s the same way in the Eucharistic celebration. We have a body-and-blood relationship with God in Christ. In this encounter, we no longer get stuck on the elements of bread and wine, Body and Blood. This is because we experience persons instead of things, relationships instead of magic. Real reverence has to be for the person of Christ and for all people for whom he died — the two are inseparable. That is why people are called the body of Christ.

We cannot have reverence for the Body and Blood of Christ — the person of Christ — if we knock down those for whom he died out of love. For this reason, people are the body of Christ. Scripture always says it so well: “Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me.” (Matt 25:45) “If anyone says, ‘l love God,’ but hates his brother, he is a liar.” (1 John 4:20) In speaking of the condemnation of the unjust steward, Matthew’s Gospel says, “So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives his brother from his heart.” (Matt 18:35)

It is simple: we must have reverence for one another. We cannot help but want a community of compassion, mercy, peace and justice. We recognize that we all come form the same womb of God, the love of God poured out into our hearts through the outpouring of the Holy Spirit signed and sealed in the body-and-blood relationship we have in Christ.

Father Jeffrey VonLehmen is pastor at St. Patrick Parish, Taylor Mill.

The Truth is ‘Out There’

By Deacon Timothy Britt.

There is a show on T.V. called “The X Files.” It’s about two F.B.I. agents who investigate strange and unexplained events, like ghosts and UFOs. The show’s tagline is “the truth is out there.”

I always thought of that tagline as saying that there was a rational explanation for all the mysteries that the agents were investigating. The answers the agents were searching for, basically the truth, would eventually be found because it was “out there” — somewhere.

Of course, there is another way of looking at that expression “out there.” It’s something that people say, sometimes, when they’re talking about something or someone who is unconventional, unorthodox or eccentric. It’s what people mean when they say that the truth is stranger than fiction or when they ask, “is this guy for real?”

As Catholics we cannot deny that the truth that we present to the world is “out there.” Jesus himself did not deny it, or at least he expected that some people would find the truth too hard to accept. Following what we call “the bread of life discourse” in John’s Gospel, many of his disciples said, “This saying is hard;” (aka, This teaching is “out there”) “Who can accept it?” and many of them returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him.

Even today, many find our teaching on the Eucharist too out there. It is a stumbling block too confounding to get around or over. Two people can look at the same thing and see two entirely different things. Like an optical illusion, some of us might squint and strain and still not see what is said to be right before our eyes. The plate of what used to be bread and the cup of what used to be wine for some continue to appear to be nothing more than bread and wine. Like Pontius Pilate, we ask, “What is truth?” while truth himself stands before us.

Following Jesus’ introduction of himself as bread for the life of the world, as he watched so many followers walk away, Jesus asked the Twelve, “Do you want to leave too?” To which Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the holy one of God.”

It wasn’t that what he was telling them was any easier for them to swallow than it was for those who left; it was simply that they believed in him. They trusted their friend. The truth was out there, but Jesus was close enough to touch. Jesus said it was true and so they came to recognize that Jesus himself was present — body, blood, soul and divinity — in the Blessed Sacrament. A hymn that I remember from my youth encourages us to “Look beyond the bread you eat; see your Savior and your Lord. Look beyond the cup you drink; see his love poured out as blood.”

The truth is out there, but Jesus is close enough to touch. Moreover, in the Blessed Sacrament we actually become a part of him. And so it happens that the truth that is somewhere out there is actually very close by. It has been placed on our hearts and written on our minds.

Deacon Timothy Britt is assigned to St. Mary Parish, Alexandria, Ky.