Reflections of Cardinal Ratzinger on the Eucharist

The concept of communion is above all anchored in the holy Sacrament of the Eucharist, the reason why we still today in the language of the Church rightly designate the reception of this sacrament simply as “to communicate”. In this way, the very practical social significance of this sacramental event also immediately becomes evident, and this in a radical way that cannot be achieved in exclusively horizontal perspectives. Here we are told that by means of the sacrament we enter in a certain way into a communion with the blood of Jesus Christ, where blood according to the Hebrew perspective stands for “life”. Thus, what is being affirmed is a commingling of Christ’s life with our own.

“Blood” in the context of the Eucharist clearly stands also for “gift”, for an existence that pours itself out, gives itself for us and to us. Thus the communion of blood is also insertion into the dynamic of this life, into this “blood poured out”. Our existence is “dynamized” in such a way that each of us can become a being for others, as we see obviously happening in the open Heart of Christ.

From a certain point of view, the words over the bread are even more stunning. They tell of a “communion” with the body of Christ which Paul compares to the union of a man and a woman (cf. I Cor 6,17ff; Eph 5,26-32). Paul also expresses this from another perspective when he says: it is one and the same bread, which all of us now receive. This is true in a startling way: the “bread” — the new manna, which God gives to us — is for all the one and the same Christ.

It is truly the one, identical Lord, whom we receive in the Eucharist, or better, the Lord who receives us and assumes us into himself. St Augustine expressed this in a short passage which he perceived as a sort of vision: eat the bread of the strong; you will not transform me into yourself, but I will transform you into me. In other words, when we consume bodily nourishment, it is assimilated by the body, becoming itself a part of ourselves. But this bread is of another type. It is greater and higher than we are. It is not we who assimilate it, but it assimilates us to itself, so that we become in a certain way “conformed to Christ”, as Paul says, members of his body, one in him.

We all “eat” the same person, not only the same thing; we all are in this way taken out of our closed individual persons and placed inside another, greater one. We all are assimilated into Christ and so by means of communion with Christ, united among ourselves, rendered the same, one sole thing in him, members of one another.

To communicate with Christ is essentially also to communicate with one another. We are no longer each alone, each separate from the other; we are now each part of the other; each of those who receive communion is “bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh” (Gn 2,23).

A true spirituality of communion seen in its Christological profundity, therefore, necessarily has a social character, as Henri de Lubac brilliantly described more than a half century ago in his book, Catholicism.

For this reason, in my prayer at communion, I must look totally toward Christ, allowing myself to be transformed by him, even to be burned by his enveloping fire. But, precisely for this reason, I must always keep clearly in mind that in this way he unites me organically with every other person receiving him — with the one next to me, whom I may not like very much; but also with those who are far away, in Asia, Africa, America or in any other place.

Becoming one with them, I must learn to open myself toward them and to involve myself in their situations. This is the proof of the authenticity of my love for Christ. If I am united with Christ, I am together with my neighbour, and this unity is not limited to the moment of communion, but only begins here. It becomes life, becomes flesh and blood, in the everyday experience of sharing life with my neighbour. Thus, the individual realities of my communicating and being part of the life of the Church are inseparably linked to one another.

The Church is not born as a simple federation of communities. Her birth begins with the one bread, with the one Lord and from him from the beginning and everywhere, the one body which derives from the one bread. She becomes one not through a centralized government but through a common centre open to all, because it constantly draws its origin from a single Lord, who forms her by means of the one bread into one body. Because of this, her unity has a greater depth than that which any other human union could ever achieve. Precisely when the Eucharist is understood in the intimacy of the union of each person with the Lord, it becomes also a social sacrament to the highest degree.

"We are related, through spirit: a gongregation of the faithful, united around Christ; the Church. That congregation deos not have a physicial place, nor is it limited in time. The Lord's Supper is transcendental -- it is not "repeated" in the spiritual sense but "ongoing." The community of the faithful, likewise, is not a physicial congregation in one place and with certain individuals only. Our community is common unity in spirit and faith in our Lord for all times."

Well, sort of; I suppose that's a way, perhaps a very expansive way, to look at things but it isn't how +Ignatius of Antioch spoke of the Church:

" Where the bishop appears, there let the people be, just as where Jesus Christ is, there is the Catholic Church (Smyrn. 8.2)"

Orthodoxy teaches that we are a Liturgical people. The Liturgy can never be prayed alone. And it is in the Liturgy that we receive the Eucharist.

Deborah, like Agrarian I found your use of the word lonely off putting, but I understand your point. I enjoyed reading your quote from +John of the Cross, but as you said, these comments are for someone very advanced in theosis, perhaps more advanced than many of the most spiritual of our monastics; in other words, these are rungs far up the Ladder of Divine Ascent. To get there takes a long time and a lot of work, work which Orthodoxy maintains should not be done alone. The other night I was discussing +John of the Cross, +John of the Ladder and Thomas Merton with an Orthodox friend. He and I both observed how Merton, especially after he went out into a hermitage against the counsel of his spiritual father, became more and more bizarre, almost pagan in his theology of the Dark Night of the Soul and once he had gone beyond Western monastic practice and thought, rather than turn to the older monastic tradition of the Christian East, he went off to Asia and Buddhist practice. As my friend noted, it was Merton's abbot who had it right, but the partisans of Merton have always made him out the bad guy. It is a exceedingly dangerous journey, spiritually, that +John of the Cross made, preceded by many monks of Orthodoxy and the Western Church. In the end they stood before our Ineffable God alone, but they got up that Ladder by submitting to the counsel of their elders and learning and transforming within their monastic communities and trust me, it wasn't a straight up ascent. I sincerely recommend reading the Ladder of Divine Ascent by +John of the Ladder, beginning at the first rung.

Well,I'm not sure what you mean by exterior vs. interior, and therefore have no way of knowing whether we are talking about the same thing or not. The Orthodox spiritual life is built around close interior self-observation. It has been described as "experimental" by some modern Orthodox writers, in the sense that one follows the guidance of the Church, observes the interior effect that this has, discusses the changes with a spiritual guide to make sure that one is not deceiving oneself, etc...

Of course, the "hard evidence" of interior transformation is in external changes -- so in such discussions the internal and external are usually inextricably tied together.

We still may be completely talking at cross-purposes, though. I'll take your word for it that we are. I may be so immersed in the Orthodox way of thinking and talking about the spiritual life that I may find it difficult to follow what is being said about Catholic approaches.

Orthodoxy teaches that we are a Liturgical people. The Liturgy can never be prayed alone. And it is in the Liturgy that we receive the Eucharist

Well, Elder Cleopa used to muse that at times his only "congregation" was a flock of ravens, and his altar was a tree stump. If there is no priest around, of course there can be no Eucharist. God understands and forgives who repent and ask for it. I am sure of that. God is not a legalist.

Which part of Thomas Merlton do you find objectionable? I take it that you have read his works (i.e. New Seeds of Contemplation).

As for +Ignatius, Church Father of all sorts have said all sorts of things. They are not without error, nor are they without sin.

Also I was just reading last night one of my favorite Hopko writings. He said there is no such thing as an individual Christian

A fine example of a "true" Orthodox mind, Fr. Hopko.

Agrarian understood me: we cannot seek salvation among people, so there is no "lateral salvation." He also understood what I said about community -- one does not transform into a God-centered person and not extend his love to others. To the contrary! The more we advance in thoesis the more we can love our enemies, the more we forgive them, the more we can pray for their salvation. One should not do good and expect salvation in return. When one becomes good, he will do good because good cannot do anything but good

There is a plenitude of examples of solitude as being the transforming vehicle in many a Christian, even a Saint. I have already posted the official (Russia) Orthodox Catechism that leaves no doubt that each and every one of us experiences God in a very personal and unique manner and not as some "mass consciousness" or "communal grace." It leaves no doubt that our faith is a very personal and very individual reality. Unless some care to characterize Russian Orthodoxy as "unorthodox."

Solitude frees us from temptations and distractions, from passions and ultimately from sin. The more energy we spend on worldly realities, the more we separate from God and continue to sin. Clearly, theosis cannot advance by being intimately tied to the material and physical and devoting time to God when it's convenient.

Here is an excerpt from an article entitled The Spiritual Father in Orthodox Christianity

he withdrew for thirty years of solitude and almost total silence

lived rigidly enclosed in his cell, which he did not leave even to attend services in church; on Sundays the priest brought communion to him at the door of his room

One, +Seraphim spent time alone and without anyone around him. Having been a priest, he did not celebrate the Divine Liturgy. He did not have the Eucharist sitting on a tree stump. He did not participate in communal life nor in a community. Did that make him less of a priest, less of an Orthodox Christian? Not if he was in repentence. And the only one he had to share his self-accusation was Christ. I am sure he did not feel alone for one moment with such Company. Yes Kolo, +Ignatius is right: Church is where Christ is; and Christ is everywhere. But sometimes I wonder if there is truly one Orthodox Church.

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