Flesh and blood is given to you as bread and wine. It’s usually crackers and grape juice. The other day we used Saltines and Powerade (Trademarks Reserved…). In all of my interaction with evangelicalism, the weighty imperative to partake of the elements has long far been outweighed by the distracting fact that they are presented as signposts. Detached from actual reality, having their actuality stripped from them as Christ’s flesh was stripped from his bones when he was flogged. I hope to present an alternative to the transubstantial/consubstantial/transignificational trichotomy and instead offer a Trinitarian triptych, which will hopefully create within those reading this blog who are united with Christ a harmony with the Spirit inside of them, resulting in a resounding hunger and thirst for the body and blood of Christ.
First, Israel did not simply celebrate Passover. They reenacted it (Ex. 12:11). Each family slaughtered lambs…again…and again…each year. But reenactment is a weak word when understanding what it meant to those participating in it. The Passover reenactment was not done by Israel simply “in remembrance” of those God interacted with in the exodus narrative. When explaining the Passover to children, the parents would say, “It is the Passover sacrifice to the LORD, who…spared our homes when he struck down the Egyptians.” (Ex. 12:27) God spared our homes. It is not so much that we remember them, but that we remember that we are them. The exodus narrative was the central and controlling narrative of Israel’s theology and identity (Ex. 12:41; Josh. 2:10; 9:9; 1 Kings 8:53) Our identity is a participation in the salvific act of the Father.
Second, during the celebration of this very festival, Jesus says, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me…This is the cup of the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” Here Jesus redefines the entire festival, not simply reenacting, but also furthering the story with a new Israel, but with the same God, namely, “me”. This festival which was “celebrated…to the LORD” does not change in its object, but redefined and fully revealed in “me”. To speak analogously, as we always do, the Lord’s supper functions rudimentarily in our relationship with God in the same way that his word does. Consider this, brothers and sisters: drinking the blood and eating the body as actions are acts of participation in Christ’s blood—death—and body—which is resurrected (1 Cor. 10:16). And not only so, but the supper acts as a standard for righteous living (1 Cor. 10:18-22). Our sanctification is a participation in the salvific act of the Son.
In what way then does the Eucharistic sacrament function that scripture itself does not? The very Word who made flesh (John 1:2) and became flesh (John 1:14) testifies about himself, saying, “I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you,” in response to the very question that all who hear the disconcerting dictation want to ask next, namely, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” (John 6:53, 52) Another rapid response I have is to play my “sola-scriptura” sanction and assume that by “feed,” Jesus means something like “believe,” even though when talking about belief as a separate event 6 verses earlier, he uses “belief” language.
Third, to warrant Jesus’ further appropriation of his thought, saying, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For 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.” (John 6:53-56), I must assume that he is setting forth a foundation for the physical union between my body and his, not implying that communion is necessary for salvation, but that it perpetuates my union (or “participation”—as Paul says in 1 Cor. 10) with Christ. This union is not only the hope of believers, but the hope of all of creation for its redemption (Rom. 8:19-22), for it is “in this hope that we are saved.” The foundation for the relevance this truth in the life of a believer, however, is being among those “who have the firstfruits of the Spirit,” (Rom. 8:23), which is to be among the saints for whom “the Spirit intercedes.” Our hope is a participation in the salvific acts of the Spirit.
A closing narrative. Remember with me now when Israel was waiting to enter the Promised Land. God had promised them that they would occupy the land as an agent of his redemptive plan of global recreation (Psalm 104:30). But before God began fulfilling his promises, Israel sent spies into the land. You know this story. They came back and reported, “We went into the land to which you sent us…Here is its fruit.” (Num. 13:27) Israel ate the fruit of the future promise of God still yet to be fulfilled, but which was in a sense more real and present than ever in the eating of that fruit. The future promise was literally present among them, and they ate it.
When you eat Christ’s flesh and blood, do not simply remember. Rather, acknowledge the fact that your identity, sanctification, and hope are being oriented heavenward as the past, present, and future collapse on you through the active participation of the Father, Son, and Spirit in your body. I will, as I try to grasp the (only by grace) believable truth that the one who knows the thoughts I have about him when I think them (Psalm 139:2) has flesh as corporeal and concrete as the loaf which I hold with my fleshly phalanges. I am subject to the world which is in bondage to decay, and praise be to him who destroyed the power of this bondage in humility (Rom. 8:21) by becoming subject to creation as well (Phil. 2:6-8). I am subject, and so is Christ.
