- Discussion:
-This article aims to deal with a few exegetical and philosophical issues centering around the Roman Catholic dogma of transubstantiation. Metaphysical problems with this teaching are brought to light as well as a lack of biblical foundation to support it. The excerpts cited in this article were originally taken from here and here.
"Jesus explained the parables to His disciples. That is the norm. In this case [John 6:51-56], Jesus let even His disciples go without explanation of the purported parable. Therefore, this is not a parable. This is the literal truth."
The negligence of clarifying does not inherently suggest a lack of metaphor. That is an entirely made up argument for which there is no exegetical necessity. Further, Jesus often spoke in parables, not just to mystify, but to invite deeper reflection.
"You see, we put Jesus in a category all by himself. We believe he is God and man. And since we believe he is God, when he says, “My flesh is real food (John 6:55)”, we believe it."
That does not even begin to translate into a proper defense of transubstantiation. Rest assured, early listeners were not pulling out their forks and knives at the sound of “This is my body.” They were likely thinking, “Wow, did he just compare himself to bread?” Honestly, who would not appreciate a good metaphor over an actual feast of human flesh?
"...Jesus Christ is our Passover sacrifice. The reason He is called the Lamb of God is because we must eat His flesh just as the Passover lamb had to be consumed to fulfill the Passover requirement...I said there are metaphorical elements. And some literal. Both are true."
The foundation of this argument rests heavily on the astonishing claim that Jesus spoke literally about eating flesh and drinking blood. It is intriguing that people see this as straightforward, considering the historical context. The gospels, especially John, are rich with symbolism, much like a good piece of modern art is open to interpretation. For instance, when Jesus says, “I am the vine,” does a person immediately rush out to find the nearest grapevine, thinking he is literally going to become part of a fruit salad? Surely, such a literal approach leads to unnecessary confusion. Christ is called the Lamb of God because He died to save us from our sins, not that we must eat His flesh or drink His blood. This is a horrible abuse of typology.
"You may indeed say by faith alone in this case. It is by faith alone that we discern the body of Christ in the holy eucharist.”
There is that beloved concept of “mystery.” It is ironic how it is used both as an explanation and as an evasion. If God is fundamentally rational and desires a relationship with mankind, would it not stand to reason that He would leave some breadcrumbs of clarity along the way? Mysteries are indeed a part of faith, but allowing unexamined doctrines to reign supreme does a disservice to the intellectual pursuit of theology. After all, is not faith about grappling with understanding, not blindly accepting?
"This is another Protestant teaching which disagrees with scripture. Scripture tells us to follow the faith of those who went before us…scripture does not tell us to make it up as we go along."
It is asserted that "Protestant teaching" is comprised of “made up doctrines." However, it is realized that all interpretations of Scripture, including Roman Catholic ones, stem from human understanding. This is a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. Protestants may seek to engage with the text differently, but that diversity of thought and interpretation is what fosters a rich theological landscape rather than a stifling dogma.
"In John 6, he [Jesus] did not set the disciples down and say that he was speaking metaphorically (i.e. in parables). He repeated what he said, forcefully. Each time emphasizing more that which he had previously said."
The claim that the “forceful” repetition of Jesus' words necessitates a literal understanding of them is a reductionist approach. Language, especially in a spiritual context, thrives on nuance. Jesus Christ was a master of layering meaning. It is ridiculous to insist that Jesus actually wanted people to eat His flesh and to drink His blood. That is actually a pagan concept, known as theophagy. Given the emphasis among the Jews at this time on purity in the worship of God, and Jesus Himself being a Jew, it is not likely that He would integrate a syncretistic message here.
The culture of Jesus' audience was well-versed in the symbolism of bread and sacrifice. The use of bread as a life-sustaining symbol is nothing groundbreaking. In fact, it goes back to the Passover and the Manna in the desert. It would be more appropriate to argue that His words represent sustenance, the nourishing of the human soul, as opposed to some contrived interpretation that tries to both force a hyper-literal reading of the text and allows for symbolic elements. That approach only further obscures the teaching of Jesus rather than helping or clarifying matters.
"It is Protestants who have an either/or mentality. They, as you, seem to think that it must be one way or the other but not both. I don’t know what you do with the fact that Jesus is both God and man."
This is a false analogy. The doctrine of the hypostatic union is not illogical, even though it is something that we do not fully understand. It does not violate scientific laws, laws of logic, or rules of inference, as does transubstantiation. This is also a red herring in that it leads readers away from the original arguments being made.
"It makes quite a bit of sense to us and it has made sense since the time of the apostles. First, Christ says it is his blood. Second, he is making a literal, not metaphorical connection, between his blood in the cup and the blood he shed on the cross.”
Jesus’ Last Supper is framed as a Passover meal, rich with tradition and symbolism, where the bread and wine hark back to significant historical events. Are we really to believe that He was fundamentally altering the course of that symbolically deep tradition simply to serve up some heavenly body and blood?
"Wait, you’re a Protestant, perhaps you don’t believe those things which you can’t explain. You folks aren’t comfortable in the mystical range. But we are."
Oh, absolutely. Nothing says "mystical" more than rejecting centuries of scientific progress.
"It is the same offering. What’s that word again? Oh, yeah, “mystery”. It’s a mystery. I know, you don’t like mysteries. But, c’est la vie. Christ offered himself once for all on the cross. And that same offering, he offers continually in the heavenly liturgy and on the earthly altars in the earthly liturgy. Once for all."
If something is “once for all,” how can it also be “re-presented” in an ongoing cycle? It creates a contradiction that muddles the clarity of the dual nature of Christ and the finality of His death on the cross. Offering something again is in conflict with the original claim of His atonement being a singular act.
"Communion means sharing or participation in. And therefore, we are participating in the blood of Christ and in the body of Christ (1 Corinthians 10:16). Not mere symbols thereof."
That does evoke the specter of cannibalism in its most visceral form. This Catholic practice borders on the bizarre by most standards. In the Old Testament, sacrifices often involved bread and wine (e.g., the offerings in Leviticus), which represent communion with God rather than a physical consumption of divine essence. This establishes a precedent for understanding similar symbols in the New Testament.
"In the same way, my heart goes out to you. You have been fooled by the reformers. They make up doctrines in contradiction of the word of God and of each other. And they multiply these errors continually. God is not the author of confusion. But the reformers continue to be so."
The bold claims regarding the worldview of Protestants as lacking in appreciating mystery is as curious as the conviction that dismissing complex theological concepts means one does not have a lively faith. The Protestant Reformation was born out of a desire to question authority and to slice through layers of dogma. Just because one might prioritize personal faith over institutional tradition does not render all exploration of theology fruitless. The heartbeat of reformed thought beats in its skepticism toward an inherited set of beliefs—not so much a denial of mystery as it is an invitation to explore its myriad dimensions.
