My latest column for RenewAmerica:
Remember your leaders, those who spoke to you the word of God; consider the outcome of their life, and imitate their faith. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and for ever. Do not be led away by diverse and strange teachings. {Hebrews 13:7-9a}
RenewAmerica.com is unique among mainstream conservative news-commentary outlets in that among its political advocacies are goals explicitly religious. While eschewing and repudiating any tendency toward vulgar statist theocracy, the founders and contributors to this enterprise operate under the assumption that the source of America’s political ills is a spiritual rot, which has infected every sphere of civil society. This rot is secularism, the doctrine that the state must be functionally atheistic, that the demands of a pluralistic society necessitate a polity where law and policy-making is conducted etsi Deus non daretur. [1]
We at RenewAmerica know better. We know, as our Founding Fathers did, that discernment of, and obedience to, the laws of nature and of nature’s God are at the heart of our convictions concerning the transcendental dignity of the human person, and the rights and duties he enjoys because of it. We expect that voters, and their representatives, will formulate public policy with the divine law in mind, as it is known through reason and through our Judeo-Christian inheritance. (As good conservatives who shun abstractive “paper-logic,” we’re also well aware that civil society must accommodate fallen, sinful mortals, and so the state must always tolerate some vices.)
And so it came as no surprise to me that my colleague, Dan Popp, had started a series of columns examining the doctrines of the early Christian church, initially to rebut oft-repeated leftist accusations that the core doctrines of orthodox Christianity postdate Jesus and the Apostles by centuries, and are in fact the product of Machiavellian political maneuvering on the part of post-Constantinian bishops and emperors. Dan’s first two contributions, on the divinity of Christ and on abortion, serve as good introductions to the Patristic teaching on those subjects.
From the time of my own conversion/reversion to Catholicism in high school, patrology has been something of an intellectual hobby of mine. I claim no expertise in the subject, but consider myself to be in possession of more than a modicum of literacy in the subject, and in church history in general. And so it came as something of a shock when I visited RenewAmerica’s homepage, and came across brother Dan’s latest piece, “The Early Church, the Bread, and the Wine.” Having previously surmised my colleague’s Protestantism, I just knew where an article by that title would be headed. Sadly, my expectations weren’t disappointed.
I don’t know why Dan decided to go ahead and publish on a subject that would be so divisive among conservative Christian activists, on a conservative site that is Christian, but not sectarian. Many (I suspect a disproportionate number) of RenewAmerica’s contributors (including founder Alan Keyes) are Catholics, and surely Dan knew his piece would invite a response from one of them. I am happy and honored to make that contribution.
Far be it from me to impugn the integrity of Br. Dan’s motives, or of his scholarly capabilities. But reading through his survey of the Church Fathers, it seemed rather apparent to me that my colleague did so with a preconceived agenda, determined not to read these Christian teachers on their own terms, but with an eye to “reclaiming” the early Church in support of doctrines that have their origin in the 16th century, fifteen centuries removed from the founding of the Christian Church by Jesus of Nazareth and his twelve Apostles.
Before I address some of Dan’s mis-citations, some prefatory remarks are in order. My colleague very skillfully exploits his Protestant readership’s ambivalence to the term transubstantiation, knowing full well that this particular word is not contained in the canonical Scriptures, and so is discredited to many a Protestant a priori, well before the term can be explained or critiqued.
Let me spare Dan’s readers the trouble. The word transubstantiation represents the late medieval Church’s attempt to explain the orthodox Christian doctrine of the Eucharist in language derived from Aristotelian metaphysics. That Jesus, the Apostles, and the early Fathers did not describe the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist in these terms should not scandalize us, no more so than the fact that much of the language of standard Trinitarianism is derived from the categories of Greek philosophical speculation, or that the Apostle John, alone among the four Evangelists, endeavored to present Jesus Christ as the fulfillment of Greek antiquity’s understanding of the Logos. [2] The Apostle Paul on several occasions illustrated his teachings with citations from Greek philosopher-poets, [3] and the early Fathers, and the medievals after them, did not hesitate to do likewise.
Secondly, while I insist that the early Church was Catholic [4] in its doctrine, worship, and ecclesiastical polity, I must take some time to address a common tactic by Protestant apologists who set out to refute what every unbiased student of church history [5] knows to be the case. The Protestant will rightfully point out that the early Church, particularly in its externals, was not an exact carbon-copy of modern Catholic/Orthodox Christianity. Therefore, the early church was . . . Protestant! This reason is fallacious for a whole host of reasons. For starters, it presupposes that institutional continuity precludes organic doctrinal development, a supposition that was not shared by the early Christians, and is odious to reason. Like any society, we should not expect the church of the first centuries to look, feel, and taste exactly like the Church in the 21st. The Church, like any body, grows and develops, maturing while remaining ever the same. To ask whether the Church Fathers believed precisely in “transubstantiation” is like asking whether they had a canon of New Testament Scriptures, with all 27 books uniformly recognized as inspired, to the exclusion of all others. Just as the New Testament is the product of centuries of post-Apostolic development, so the doctrine of transubstantiation. Still, as I will endeavor to show, the early Christians uniformly subscribed to a realist doctrine of what would later be called the sacraments, the Eucharist particularly. The early Christians were adamant in professing their belief that the true Body and Blood of the risen Jesus Christ was present in the Eucharistic elements, and would have found 16th century symbolist understandings abhorrent to an orthodox understanding of the matter.
Let me begin my addressing what I believe is Dan’s silliest objection. He seems mystified by the fact that it was customary in the early Church to mix the Eucharistic wine with water while the gifts were being prepared at the altar.
- That, it seems to me, raises an objection to the Transubstantiation view: if the bread turns into flesh and the wine turns into blood, what does the water turn into? The readiest explanation for the addition of water is that it represented the water that flowed from the Lord’s side after death (John 19:34). But if it is a representation, then the other elements must also be symbols, not transmuted substances.
My colleague’s puzzlement at the early Church’s practice of the “mixed cup” illustrates well the dangers of approaching Patristics (any historiographical endeavor, really) with an ideological axe to grind, ignorant of the cultural context. While the “mixed cup” may be a mystery to a Protestant teetotaler attending Pastor Billy Bob’s Bedside Baptist, such a practice is to this day known to most of the Christian world: Catholics, Orthodox, Oriental Orthodox, Assyrians. All of these churches mix water into their wine-filled chalices at the Offertory (i.e., before the bread and wine are consecrated), and each of these churches holds to a very realist doctrine of the Eucharist.
The reason the early Church diluted their chalices with water is simple. You see, they lived well before the 19th century, when some Protestant churches in England and America introduced into Christianity the practice of substituting grape juice for wine at the Eucharist. The early Christians diluted their wine for the same reason every Mediterranean household did (and indeed, many continue to do so): house wine is very strong in its alcoholic concentration, and most people find the dilution makes it taste better, and mitigates the inebriation. The early church did not worship with grape juice (sorry, Thomas Welch!), and so they followed customary Judeo-Greco-Roman practice. [6]
Very soon, the early Church would attach mystic symbolism to an originally utilitarian rite. Dan indicates one such symbolism, and there were others. The answer to his objection, “what does the water turn into?” is obvious. Wine mixed with a little bit of water is still wine, and so “the water” is changed into whatever the wine is changed into, if indeed there is a change.
And the early Church was unanimous in its conviction that such a change did occur, once the Eucharistic bread and wine were consecrated by the presiding bishop(s) and/or elder(s). My colleague, however, has set the terms of the debate in such a way that any citation from the early Church will invariably justify his position.
- [A] statement like “We eat the body and drink the blood of Christ” by itself doesn’t give us any clues as to whether the speaker is using metaphors.
So, no matter how adamant the Fathers are in their realism, Br. Dan will always retort that they are only employing very adamant metaphors! How convenient! With such a hermeneutic, one suspects two thousand years from now the Dan Popps of the world will read the decrees of the Council of Trent and the modern Catholic Catechism as advancing symbolist views: “Transubstantiation? C’mon, they don’t mean that the substance of bread is really changed into the Body and Blood of Jesus! The substance is changed metaphorically! Catholic genuflections before the Sacrament? That’s just a symbol for their devotion to the Body of Jesus as it sits at the right hand of the Father! etc.”
The realism of the Fathers’ teaching is readily apparent when one reads their statements with a little more context. For instance, Saint Ignatius of Antioch:
- But consider those who are of a different opinion with respect to the grace of Christ which has come unto us, how opposed they are to the will of God. They have no regard for love; no care for the widow, or the orphan, or the oppressed; of the bond, or of the free; of the hungry, or of the thirsty. Let us stand aloof from such heretics. They abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they confess not the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Saviour Jesus Christ, which suffered for our sins, and which the Father, of His goodness, raised up again. Those, therefore, who speak against this gift of God, incur death in the midst of their disputes. But it were better for them to treat it with respect, that they also might rise again. {Source}
How much more explicit can Ignatius (a disciple of the Apostle John, and who was ordained bishop of Antioch in the 60s AD) possibly get? The Eucharist is “the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ,” the very same flesh that “suffered for our sins” and which the Father “raised up again.” When do Protestants ever speak thusly of the Eucharist? What Christian leader today would be most likely to speak such things of the Lord’s Supper: Billy Graham, or Pope Benedict XVI?
I encourage all my readers to read the entire Epistle from which that extract is taken. Ignatius is a Catholic bishop through and through, refuting Docetist heretics who believed that Jesus Christ did not possess a real, physical body. He draws a subtle, but clear, connection between denial of the true bodily passion and resurrection of the Lord, and denial of His bodily presence in the Eucharist. Also note St Ignatius’s clear allusion to John 6:54, in that last sentence. If the heretics wish to “rise again” to new life, they had better “treat [the Eucharist] with respect.” How? By “confess[ing] the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ.”
Dan thinks he’s found a smoking-gun in Athenagoras’s relative silence concerning the Eucharist, and his oblique reference to it as the Christians’ “bloodless sacrifice.” Athenagroas’s silence regarding the Lord’s Supper is not at all surprising to anyone familiar with the early Church’s disciplina arcani, [7] which my colleague apparently is not. In keeping with their Lord’s command to not give what is holy to the dogs, or cast one’s pearls before swine, the early church was very reticent to commit its most sacred beliefs to writing, especially when these writings might find their way into pagan hands. Tertullian’s witness to this discipline is representative:
- I must not omit an account of the conduct also of the heretics — how frivolous it is, how worldly, how merely human, without seriousness, without authority, without discipline, as suits their creed. To begin with, it is doubtful who is a catechumen, and who a believer; they have all access alike, they hear alike, they pray alike — even heathens, if any such happen to come among them. That which is holy they will cast to the dogs, and their pearls, although (to be sure) they are not real ones, they will fling to the swine. {Source}
Dan also thinks he’s found his symbolist smoking gun in the fact that the Fathers frequently refer to the Eucharist as a bloodless sacrifice. This, he imagines, refutes conclusively any notion that they believed the Eucharist to contain the true Body and Blood of Jesus. But given how adamant the Fathers otherwise are in their Eucharistic realism, and in their insistence that the Eucharist is indeed, a sacrifice, such an interpretation is untenable. Let me let my Protestant brother in on a little secret: To this very day, Catholic and Orthodox Christians continue to refer to the Eucharist as a bloodless sacrifice! Are you therefore going to assert that we don’t believe in the Real Presence (i.e., transubstantiation)?
The Eucharist is called bloodless for two reasons: a) In our everyday talk we frequently use what scholars call phenomenological language: we refer to things by their appearances, even when we know the appearance does not correspond precisely to reality. It’s why we moderns continue to speak of sunrises and sunsets, why Scripture can refer to disguised angels as men (Genesis 19, Luke 24, Acts 1, etc.), and why the Fathers, and even today’s Catholics and Orthodox will frequently refer to the Eucharistic elements as bread and wine, even after they have been consecrated. The Eucharist does not have the sensible characteristics of human blood, and so it is, in that sense, bloodless. b) The Eucharist is also bloodless in that it does not involve ritual killing, i.e., the shedding of blood. Contrary to anti-Catholic mythology, Catholics and Orthodox do not believe that Jesus is recrucified at their services, and neither did the early Fathers.
All this is what informs the Fathers’ insistence that Christians do not practice cannibalism. Mere mortals consuming the glorified and risen flesh of the God-Man is not cannibalism, mortals consuming the flesh of mortals is.
The remainder of Dan’s objections betray a grossly simplistic understanding of what it means for something to be symbolic, memorializing, and spiritual. For starters, of course the Eucharistic bread and wine are symbols! The point that Catholics and Orthodox make is that, by divine ordinance, the sacramental signs actually convey the graces they signify. And this is precisely what the early Fathers taught: The waters of baptism symbolize cleansing, and that is what baptism actually does: cleanses from sin; the bread and wine of the Eucharist symbolize the Body and Blood of the Lord, and that is precisely what they convey to the believer. Oil symbolizes strength and health, hence the Apostles cured men (physically and spiritually) by anointing with oil, as do all the churches today which predate the 16th century Protestant Reformation. Laying on of hands symbolizes the conveyance of an office, and such conveyance is actually effected by the laying on of hands!
A similar dynamic is at work in the concept of memorial (i.e., anamnesis in the Greek), a word so loaded in the ancient Judeo-Greco-Roman world that it does not signify a mere mental recollection of some past event. Rather, it means making present in the here and now the thing recollected. Orthodox Jews call this zakhor, and a basic grasp of the concept (as well as some rudiments of Greek Platonism) is absolutely necessary to appreciate the full import of the concept of memorial for the early Christians. [8] Something else that should be brought to Br. Dan’s attention: To this day, Catholic liturgies and catechisms still refer to the Eucharist as a memorial. Do we not believe in transubstantiation?
Finally, my colleague’s harping on the use of the word “spiritual” to refer to the Eucharist is most easily dismissed. In Catholic circles, the Eucharist all the time is referred to as the Church’s spiritual sacrifice, the offering in spirit and in truth, the logike latreia (“rational worship,” as opposed to carnal worship). Strangely, Dan is employing an understanding of the word spiritual in a sense that is not Judeo-Christian, but rather Gnostic. Spiritual does not necessarily mean disembodied, immaterial, or unreal; in fact, most often the word does not carry those connotations at all. Was Christ’s redemptive work in the flesh not spiritual? Was his bodily conception in the womb of the Virgin not spiritual? When we say someone is a spiritual person, do we mean that he is, in fact, a disembodied spirit? Likewise, how is the change from ordinary bread and wine, to the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, of the Living God-Man not a spiritual act?
Up to now my defense of the Fathers’ realist position has been almost entirely negative, i.e., I have offered rebuttal of my colleague’s anachronistic interpretations of some key concepts, rather than offer my own laundry-list of patristic quotations demonstrating the Fathers’ Eucharistic realism, a realism that would scandalize any Protestant if it came out of the mouths of their own pastors, but language which is right at home in any Catholic setting. In the interests of brevity, I am not going to provide such a list, as they are readily available online to anyone with a search engine. [9] I also would rather my readers go through the Fathers themselves, faithful to the Pauline injunction (Hebrews 13:7-9a), with the aid of some good secondary sources. [10]
Of course, for many of my Protestant readership, the content of these discussions is immaterial, for the only doctrinal norm is the Holy Scriptures, as they are interpreted by the individual under the inspiration of God’s Holy Spirit (i.e., sola scriptura). Suffice it to say I, along with most of the conservative Christian world, do not subscribe to such a hermeneutic, but RenewAmerica is not (I believe) the proper forum to engage in such a debate. I’ll simply insist, as a matter of simple historiography, that the manner in which the earliest Christians understood their own Scriptures, the way they understood the deposit of faith they received directly from the Apostles and their immediate successors, should weigh heavily on how we understand those Scriptures. In precisely the same way we expect our Judges and Justices to take into account original intent when discerning the meaning of the Constitution. We would all do well to ask ourselves how the early Christians understood their own Scriptures, the nature of revelation, the constitution of the Church, etc. And we do justice to our conservative instincts in weighing these understandings against traditions of men which don’t go further back than, say, the 1500s.
We’re free to dismiss the Church Fathers, and all Christianity before the 16th century as heretical and apostate. But to claim these men for the doctrines of modern sectarians is intellectually dishonest, and most unconservative.
[10] The three I recommend, as starting points, are Mike Aquilia’s The Fathers of the Church: An Introduction to the First Christian Teachers and The Mass of the Early Christians, and the late J. N.D. Kelley’s Early Christian Doctrines
Several objections were raised to this call, most of them variations of the theme “Pray, pay, and obey.” In many conservative Catholic quarters, holy obedience is identified with blind servility that admits of no public criticism of one’s pastors. Often, Catholics tell themselves that “we receive the pastors we deserve,” and while there is some truth to this, it cannot justify indifference to pastoral abuse, no more than the commandments to honor one’s parents, one’s husband, or one’s government justifies pacifistic indifference to child abuse, spousal abuse, or tyranny.


















