The title of The Elder Statesman came from the fact that I am the oldest out of my group of friends. Often, when enjoying fun times and adult beverages with friends, people would comment on my relaxed and sometimes patriarchal demeanor. So I joked that I was the "elder statesman" of the group. I was born and raised in Garland, TX, a suburb of Dallas. I am a graduate of Southern Methodist University with a degree in Economics and the University of Texas at Dallas with an MBA. I love my family and my friends and do everything I can to show them that. I have a beautiful woman by my side putting up with all my nonsense. I enjoy the finer things in life like scandal, intrigue, beer and baseball.

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Catholic Answer Series: Transubstantiation – The Doctrine by Which the Real Presence is Experienced

The American Heritage Dictionary defines transubstantiation as the conversion of one substance into another.

Last week we discussed idea of The Real Presence and how the Catholic Church sees the reality of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist. Besides the Real Presence which faith accepts and delights in, there is the doctrine of transubstantiation, from which we may at least get a glimpse of what happens when the priest consecrates bread and wine, so that they become Christ's body and Christ's blood. At this stage, we must be content with only the simplest statement of the meaning of, and distinction between substance and accidents, without which we should make nothing at all of transubstantiation. We shall concentrate upon bread, reminding ourselves once again that what is said applies in principle to wine as well.

We look at the bread the priest uses in the Sacrament. It is white, round, soft. The whiteness is not the bread, it is simply a quality that the bread has; the same is true of the roundness and the softness. There is something there that has these and other properties, qualities, attributes…the philosophers call all of them accidents. Whiteness and roundness we see; softness brings in the sense of touch. We might smell bread, and the smell of new bread is wonderful, but once again the smell is not the bread, but simply a property. The something which has the whiteness, the softness, the roundness, has the smell; and if we try another sense, the sense of taste, the same something has that special effect upon our palate. In other words, whatever the senses perceive, even with the aid of those instruments men are forever inventing to increase the reach of the senses, is always of this same sort, a quality, a property, an attribute; no sense perceives the something which has all these qualities, which is the thing itself. This something is what the philosophers call substance; the rest are accidents which it possesses. Our senses perceive accidents; only the mind knows the substance. This is true of bread, it is true of every created thing. Left to itself, the mind assumes that the substance is that which, in all its past experience, has been found to have that particular group of accidents. But in these two instances, the bread and wine of the Eucharist, the mind is not left to itself. By the revelation of Christ it knows that the substance has been changed, in the one case into the substance of his body, in the other into the substance of his blood.

The senses can no more perceive the new substance resulting from the consecration than they could have perceived the substance there before. We cannot repeat too often that senses can perceive only accidents, and consecration changes only the substance. The accidents remain in their totality…for example, that which was wine and is now Christ's blood still has the smell of wine, the intoxicating power of wine. One is occasionally startled to find some scientist claiming to have put all the resources of his laboratory into testing the consecrated bread; he announces triumphantly that there is no change whatever, no difference between this and any other bread. We could have told him that, without the aid of any instrument. For all that instruments can do is to make contact with the accidents, and it is part of the doctrine of transubstantiation that the accidents undergo no change whatever. If our scientist had announced that he had found a change, that would be really startling and upsetting. The accidents, then, remain; but not, of course, as accidents of Christ's body. It is not his body which has the whiteness and the roundness and the softness. The accidents once held in existence by the substance of bread, and those others once held in existence by the substance of wine, are now held in existence solely by God's will to maintain them.

In short and put simply, the presence of Christ in the bread and wine achieved through consecration does not change what we perceive as the characteristics of bread and wine. Consecration changes what we cannot see, but what we know in heart and soul, the substance of the bread and wine that cannot be revealed by mere sense alone. Faith, which is the sense of the soul, reveals the true presence of Christ in the Eucharist. And what of Christ's body, now sacramentally present? All we shall say here is that his body is wholly present, though not (so St. Thomas among others tells us) extended in space. One further element in the doctrine of the Real Presence needs to be stated: Christ's body remains in the communicant as long as the accidents remain themselves. Where, in the normal action of our bodily processes, they are so changed as to be no longer accidents of bread or accidents of wine, the Real Presence in us of Christ's own individual body ceases. But we live on in his Mystical Body. This very sketchy outline of the doctrine of transubstantiation is almost pathetic. But like so much in faith, what is here is only a beginning; you have the rest of life before you.

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