The Eucharist and Social Justice

I think many Catholics like to put themselves in one of two camps. There are those who are "conservative," who love the Church and the Holy Father, the wisdom and truth of dogma, and the lives of the saints. They defend the tradition and argue for little -- if any -- change. Others call themselves "progressive" or "liberal." More often than not, they care little for the hierarchy or even sacramental life and champion causes of equality, solidarity, and social justice, citing Jesus' public ministry as the model par excellence.

I loathe these distinctions and don't understand how or why we buy into them. They are certainly the product of our own devices (if not vices). The way to be Catholic is to follow Jesus. Or as one friend back in Wisconsin once told me: "Keep your eyes on Jesus and don't take any bullsh*t from the rest of them." Following Jesus is no easy task, but we, the pilgrim Church, can try our best together.

First and foremost, this involves honoring the words and ways of Jesus. But it also involves embracing the Sacraments and the grace afforded us through these communal rituals and customs. For example, I know of many people working on the front lines in terms of human rights, justice, and peace who have little desire for the Eucharist. My heart aches for them -- on many levels. And by and large, because they are not only missing out on what the Eucharist is all about, but because they are stepping away from God's gift of God's self, offered to us each and every day in the Blessed Sacrament. And what is more, this Communion actually offers us the plan for the communion we all desire.

This is a long post. But allow me to explain:

In January 2004, I spent a few weeks with the Sisters of Charity in Kingston, Jamaica. To be sure, my time spent visiting with lepers, cutting the fingernails of blind men and shaving invalids was an unforgettable experience. But what impacted me – perhaps even more than their kind and compassionate service – was the dedication of the women who cared for these men day after day to prayer and the liturgy. After working all morning, these sisters retired to the upper level of the complex where they prayed, sang, and distributed communion. I was flabbergasted on many levels: where did this joy come from? how could they spend all afternoon in prayer? didn’t they realize how much more work needed to be done?

Earlier this month I found myself asking similar questions during a visit to an orphanage in Guatemala. Despite living in meager, even destitute conditions, when the village gathered together on Sunday morning at the local church for Mass, they wore immaculately clean clothes, arrived early, packed the church, and actively, audibly participated throughout the liturgy in prayer and song. It was almost eerie how these orphans and impoverished families celebrated the Eucharist: smiling, singing, and sharing the sign of peace with such gusto. I couldn’t help but wonder: why were they so happy? what drew them to celebrate Eucharist? didn’t they realize how much more work needed to be done?

On both counts – what attracts those who dedicate their lives to social justice to the Eucharist and what why those who face such severe social injustice are drawn to the Eucharist – I was baffled. Especially since so many Catholics in America complain that they just don’t get anything out of going to Mass on Sunday. I won’t venture a guess as to what motivated these people to attend and celebrate the Eucharist with such zealous commitment, but it is worth noting what John A. Coleman calls the “necessary ‘mystical marriage’ between the Eucharist and social justice” has been articulated and affirmed throughout the history of the Church, and this speaks volumes about what we should “get out of” going to Mass.

The connection between the Eucharist and social justice is not the result of a modern hermeneutic. After all, the very institution of the Lord’s Supper was a festive meal at Passover to honor Yahweh’s deliverance of Israel from slavery in Egypt. And while John substitutes the foot washing scene for this narrative in his gospel, Jesus’ humility and service to his disciples reinforces not only the kenosis of the Lord’s Supper, but also the inviting and inclusive table fellowship which marked Christ’s public ministry. This tradition was highlighted in the earliest writings of the Church; that the Eucharist is an act of solidarity and inspiration for work to promote justice and peace was the very concern of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Corinthian community (1 Cor. 10-11) and a point of emphasis in the homilies and catechesis notably imparted by St. John Chrysostom and St. Augustine.

And although the “mystical marriage” between the Eucharist and social justice has been reinforced throughout the centuries in the writings of many important theologians and saints, and reiterated in the modern era thanks to the likes of Dorothy Day and Mother Teresa, it seems that this essential link between what we celebrate and share in the liturgy and how we live and act in the world is not so obvious for many Catholics today. However, this lack of awareness among the laity is not for want of Church teaching, especially since the Second Vatican Council.

The theological renewal and ecclesial reform of Vatican II did more than reassert the Eucharist as the “source and summit” of our Christian lives and the “sum and summary of our faith.” Among many other documents, the council produced the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy (Sacrosanctum Concilium), which described the liturgy as “the summit toward which the activity of the Church is directed; at the same time it is the font from which all her power flows. For the aim and object of apostolic works is that all who are made sons of God by faith and baptism should come together to praise God in the midst of His Church, to take part in the sacrifice, and to eat the Lord's supper.” This suggests that as the source and summit of the Church’s mission and identity, the Eucharist calls people to gather, praise, share in the sacrifice, and partake in the Lord’s Supper. As we will see in the pages that follow, this gathering, praising, and receiving and sharing not only speaks to issues of solidarity, justice, and peace – but it is incomplete unless and until such ritualized claims are turned outward into the world.

To be sure, however, the Eucharist is not merely an exercise in solidarity or social justice. Although Jesus demonstrated great concern for the poor, vulnerable, oppressed, and marginalized, the Church is not a mere charitable agency or social service. Instead, the Church is a witness of Christ at work in the world, and the Eucharist is what feeds and enlightens this mission. In other words, as John Paul II wrote in Ecclesia de Eucharistia, the “Eucharist, as Christ's saving presence in the community of the faithful and its spiritual food, is the most precious possession which the Church can have in her journey through history.” So although there is a deep connection between the Eucharist and social justice, this is by no means the defining characteristic of, or motivation for celebrating the liturgy.

Instead, we recognize the polyvalent nature of the Eucharist and how each part of the ritual relates to its primary purpose: to worship and give praise to the Father. The Liturgy of the Word provides a memorial (anamnesis) to recall all that God has done for us. This is followed by a petition (epiclesis), to not only call down the Holy Spirit among the assembly, but also upon the gifts the congregation presents. Then this communion is enacted as all share the bread and wine, the body and blood of Jesus Christ. The celebration of the Eucharist both concludes and continues with the urging to “go in peace to love and serve the world.”

The Bread of Life Discourses in John 6 introduces this consumption of communion as the key to eternal life. On the night he was betrayed, as Jesus shared the bread and wine with his disciples, he explained that through his body and blood, he offers himself as a sacrifice for the forgiveness of sins and the initiation of a new covenant. This new covenant is not only open to the Jews, but to all people -- in much the same way, ALL people are deserving of the dignity and sanctity given to them by God. As Christ offered himself, we are invited to offer ourselves in return-gift, in synergy with his self offering. In the words of the 1982 World Council of Churches Baptism, Eucharist, and Ministry document, “as a living and holy sacrifice in our daily lives; this spiritual worship, acceptable to God, is nourished in the eucharist, in which we are sanctified and reconciled in love, in order to be servants of reconciliation in the world." In this way, Christ’s sacrificial self gift is not only a gift we receive, but also an invitation to offer our own self-gift in return. This is precisely how we live up to the challenge from Augustine to “become what [we] receive” in this sacrament and how this ought to connect with how we live and act in the world.

Or as moral theologian William Spohn writes, “[e]very dimension of Christian moral formation flows out from community worship and congregating around the Lord’s table.” This means that we learn about solidarity, justice, peace, and reconciliation through our anamnesis, epiclesis, and sharing of the Lord’s Supper. As Pope John Paul II explained in his 2004 apostolic letter in preparation for the Year of the Eucharist, the “Christian who takes part in the Eucharist learns to become a promoter of communion, peace and solidarity in every situation ... Christians learn to experience the Eucharist as a great school of peace, forming men and women who, at various levels of responsibility in social, cultural and political life, can become promoters of dialogue and communion.” Mane Nobiscum Domine continues, the “Eucharist not only provides the interior strength needed for this mission, but is also – in some sense – its plan. For the Eucharist is a mode of being, which passes from Jesus into each Christian, through whose testimony it is meant to spread throughout society and culture." The way we gather, praise, are forgiven and forgive, receive and share as a church is the very model for the communion we ought to enact in the world.

This reality manifests a painful both/and. On one hand, sharing one bread and one cup engages us in a ritual of sharing and of unity with Christ and one another. Therefore, Communion is the ultimate experience of communion. And yet, at the same time, as David N. Power has written, the "bread of joy is also the bread of affliction: it evokes many aspects of human life, the most basic needs of body and spirit, the need to share with others, the toil and the joy, the hunger for justice, the vulnerability of life on earth. So too it is for the church, God’s people in Christ.” This resigns us to the “already and not yet” state, in which we celebrate the new covenant instituted by Christ and relish in not only His Real Presence among us, but the divinizing grace which we receive and share in the Eucharist. At the same time, we realize that this deification is not a panacea; there is still much work to be done and we wait, in eschatological hope, for Christ to accomplish what we cannot.

So as I wonder what draws the Sisters of Charity in Jamaica and the people of Santa Apolonia in Guatemala to the liturgy – and why, in the face of such malnutrition and hunger, poverty, homelessness, illness, and illiteracy – they even bother with the vestments, the music, the readings, the homily, the Eucharist, I now realize it is because they are convinced that this experience provides them all they truly need as the “source and summit” of our lives and the “sum and summary” of our faith. After all, there is no better way to gather together to praise and adore the God who has, and who will continue to provide for us, remember (anamnesis) what God has done for us, to plead for what we and the world needs (epiclesis), and receive and share the Bread of Life.

We work in a spirit of solidarity and justice not because the Church is social service or agency, but because we work in synergy with the Spirit of God who is just, who loves, who forgives, and who continues to give the gift of God’s self to us. We recognize themes of tolerance, mercy, compassion, and inclusion in Jesus’ ministry and respond to the call to “love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12) because we understand how this manifests the everlasting truth of the new covenant which has been instituted by the Son. And although our efforts at solidarity and justice will fall short, we live in the eschatological hope that “all [will be] one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28).

Although the Church teaches that the “Eucharist commits us to the poor” (CCC #1397) and the “mystical marriage” of the Eucharist and social justice has been the focus of so many theologians and saints, perhaps we need to look no further than the people who work for social justice and who face even the gravest injustices. For them, these notions of worship, memorial, petition, atonement, communion, and synergy are perhaps the only reason for hope and joy in otherwise dim and desperate circumstances. Their love for the Eucharist – and how it inspires them to live so simply, generously, and faithfully – is just the reminder we need that the Sunday obligation isn’t just about what we get out of going to Mass, but how we become what we receive.