The Eucharist and the Lost Lamb
Once upon a time, when I was studying to be a Catholic under Fr. Gil Wohler (eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord…), this gentle priest began with what he believed would be a doctrinal block for someone with my religious background. Having previously informed him of my journey from Christian fundamentalism through mainstream Protestantism into atheism and back to a non-denominational church, I’m sure he felt that though my travels were most certainly “cosmicpolitan,” I still may have retained some past prejudices that would need some reorienting for Catholicism.
Specifically, he thought I would have issues with Mary being the Mother of God, and with the Eucharist being the actual body and blood of Jesus. As far as the former tenet of the faith, I assured him that the fundamentalist sect I was raised in actually taught me:
1. Jesus was God.
2. Mary was the mother of Jesus.
3. Therefore, Mary was the Mother of God.
Granted that this was not mentioned from the pulpit explicitly, but I was told that in order to call myself a Christian I must believe in the first two assertions, and that regardless of any misgivings concerning the terminology, the third precept must be true.
As far as the concept of transubstantiation goes, I admitted to the good Father that I had never even considered the possibility as I journeyed from belief to unbelief and back again. However, I had always been disturbed by chapter six in the Gospel of John and the insufficient explanations of Jesus’ statements concerning the consumption of His flesh and blood. Even if any of the several interpretations related to me by ministers had seemed reasonably correct, no one could answer my final question: “Then why didn’t Jesus explain this to the people leaving Him—those who took His words literally?”
I wish I could relate that this new wrinkle on the Lord’s Supper was a spiritual epiphany for me, a turning point in my tortuous wandering through belief systems to some kind of Christological nirvana. On the contrary it was less an awakening and more of an intellectual relief that another piece of pesky scripture had been tamed and filed away in my internal annotated bible. I thought little of the implications of what (or rather who) I had encountered in this new view of bread/wine, body/blood.
In the meantime, I wandered away from Catholicism, and into a deeper commitment to my faith practice at that time. There was, however, a subtle change in my attitude toward communion. Looking back, I discovered that I generally avoided worship services that involved the bread and wine, either absenting myself altogether or taking on a task that would keep me away from the rite.
A couple of decades later, studying under another good and faithful shepherd, Fr. Joseph Hall (eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord…), the penny finally dropped, and I began to realize the implications of this scriptural “explanation” and its impact on my relationship with my Lord and Savior. Essentially, the gift hit me right between the eyes!
As overwhelming as the sacrifice and death of my dear Jesus was for someone who had at one time been His enemy, the Eucharist seemed to be a present especially for me, whose faith often did not even tip the scales against the ol’ mustard seed. Throughout my groping around various churches and belief systems a common theme kept cropping up: that God is with me always, everywhere, no matter what I thought or felt. Unfortunately, what I thought or felt was that I was blind and deaf to this ever-present deity, and I continually struggled with the idea that God was avoiding me. One of us wasn’t here, and I despaired that the man in the mirror might be the missing one. I prayed, practiced my faith with frenetic vigor, cried out Psalmically to heaven from earth. Still folks around me had their hunk of God while I went without.
It was the Eucharist that made me see, just as certainly as if the Man from Nazareth had slapped mud in my eyes. Jesus is here, now, in the flesh. He did this for poor chumps like me who were nowhere with the everywhere God. He said, “I will be with you always…” and he meant it literally, just like He meant it with the consumption of His flesh and blood. And I know exactly where to find Him.
So now when I am sheepishly stumbling through a pasture or in the “valley of the shadow of death” and the shepherd appears to be on an extended break, I just zip down to the nearest Mass, or adoration chapel, or tabernacle, where I know that my Lord is hanging out, waiting for me to come and be with the “source and summit” of my faith.
Perhaps someday I’ll be as spiritually connected as others, carrying a portable Creator around. For now, God is keeping me humble and close to Him. And honestly, it’s the best place for this lamb.
