Eucharistic Theories & Christology

Catholic, Lutheran, Reformed, and Orthodox perspectives

A presbyterian minister, “Raleigh St. Clair,” who heard me on a popular radio show, wrote to me concerning iconography. Following this initial reply (which I will post to substack at some point), he wrote with a new question concerning the Eucharist. As the opening of this letter explains, I had resolved that I would not reply to the second email, having already devoted plenty of time to the first. However, after reading “Raleigh’s” question, I saw he was asking about a rather obscure dispute between the Lutherans and the Reformed which I find particularly interesting, given the ways in which it highlights critical differences between Chritsianity East and West. Hence, I could not resist. Please subscribe and support my work.

Dear “Raleigh,”

I had resolved, before reading your email, that I was not going to answer any more questions, since I presently don't have time for such lengthy emails. But then I read your question, and I can't resist! Although, please, for the sake of my work schedule, don't ask any further questions after this one.

By way of prelude, the reason I couldn't resist is that the specific aspect of the Eucharist discussion you raised — the dispute between the Lutherans, on the one hand, and the Reformed, Zwinglian, and Catholics, on the other — I find fascinating. (And, from what I can tell, very few people are aware of the dispute, hence my surprise at you mentioning it.) What I find particularly interesting is that both sides are correct in their accusations. The Lutherans accuse their opponents of falling into Nestorianism with their rejection of the communication of attributes. On this point, the Lutherans are correct; the stance is Nestorian and thus heretical. Their opponents, however, insist that the Lutherans have fallen into a form of monophysitism by suggesting that features of the divine essence mingle with Christ's humanity. This charge is also correct. Both sides espouse something heretical, and both sides rightly diagnose the errors of the other. No side holds the Orthodox position.

What the dispute illustrates so well is the importance of a distinction, critical throughout the Eastern Church fathers and the Ecumenical Councils (not to mention the NT), that the West lost, namely, the distinction between God's essence and his energies. The result for Western theology and philosophy was both pervasive and catastrophic, in my assessment. The Lutherans sensed the deficiency, and they noticed in Cyril of Alexandria what appeared to be a remedy. However, not understanding Eastern theology generally or the essence-energies distinction particularly, their use of Cyril fell into a form of monophysitism. Nonetheless, they were correct to see in their opponents, who rejected their efforts, a form of Nestorianism. 

So, with that teaser, allow me to backtrack. I'll begin with the Western medieval discussion of the Eucharist. When I spoke on the show about the West being interested in the mechanics of the Eucharist, I meant that the Western "models" were interested in the mechanics of how precisely bread and wine become body and blood. Notice that in the medieval discussion, the idea that the Eucharist is the body and blood of Christ is a given. The worries about "bread worship," for example, are post-Reformation phenomena. Hence, all three medieval models presume that Christ's body and blood are somehow localized in the Eucharist. The question is How?

The models, as you probably know, were transubstantiation, consubstantiation, and real presence. The first two are the most metaphysical in nature. Transubstantiation was based on a medieval use of Aristotelian physics. In particular, Aristotelian physics distinguishes "form" from "matter." Matter, in this context, does not refer to wood or stone or flesh; it refers to an amorphous substratum that has (or more accurately, is) the potential to be something. We might think of it as a shapeless bit of fabric that is potentially spherical, if wrapped around a sphere, or cubical, if wrapped around a cube. Form, by contrast, refers to the nature a thing has. The abstract definitions by which we identify objects (e.g., circle, sphere, cat, human) are forms. The basic theory is that these abstract natures become concretely real when manifest in matter. What we call "becoming" or "generation" is a process in which matter receives form. When this happens, matter’s potential to be something transitions from potentially something (e.g., potentially a cat) to actually something (e.g., actually a cat), form manifesting within matter. To again use our fabric analogy, the phenomenon is akin to our fabric being wrapped around a ball. When this happens, the fabric's potential to be spherical becomes concretely actual. 

Now, the medievals added to this the idea that certain types of matter have greater affinity for some forms than others. For example, they presumed that the air in the room is an ethereal type of matter, since it carries the form of light when a light source is present. However, the moment we remove the light source, the light dissipates. Hence, the affinity of air for light is very low, since it releases light immediately when the source of the form is removed. By contrast, if we boil water and then remove from the pot the fire that heated the water, the water remains hot. Hence, the reasoning went, the material of water has a high affinity for heat, since it retains the form of heat for a long time. (This theory was, incidentally, the basis for alchemy and the hope that one might find a type of matter that has a high affinity for the form gold, for example.)

Bringing all of this to bear on the Eucharist gets you the medieval theory of transubstantiation. The theory, in short, was that God removes the form bread from the host and replaces it with the form body. Likewise, God removes the form wine and replaces it with the form blood. This is why the theory is named transubstantiation: it is a change in substance, or form.Yet, so the argument goes, the type of matter that houses bread and the type of matter that houses wine both have a high affinity for these forms. Hence, the remnant of the form lingers, tricking the senses, just as heat lingers in water after the flame is removed. This is what is typically meant when advocates of the theory say that the form has changed but the accidents trick the senses.

Consubstantiation, by contrast, rejected the idea that the bread and the wine cease to be bread and wine. Rather than relying on the theory of material affinity, the view accepts that the original forms, bread and wine, remain but another is added, body and blood. 

Real presence was the third medieval theory. This was the least metaphysical of the three, since it did not draw on form-matter metaphysics. Instead, it took a simpler route of claiming that Christ himself is somehow truly present in the Eucharist. The theory offered no metaphysical explanation as to the mechanics of how God makes this so.

While all three positions were viable Roman Catholic positions in the medieval era, in the wake of the Reformation, the Catholic Church officially adopted transubstantiation at the Council of Trent. The Lutherans adopted real presence (not consubstantiation, as many mistakenly suggest). Yet, two new positions emerged. The one position, the Zwinglian view, takes a memorialist stance on the Eucharist, something that had never been espoused before in Church history. The second is the Reformed position of spiritual ascent. The position aimed at retaining a high view of the Eucharist as a means of real spiritual communion with Christ, while sidestepping what the Reformed perceived as an idolatrous tendency toward "bread worship," reflected in the Catholic veneration of the changed elements. The theory held, as you likely know, that rather than Christ descending to be localized in the elements, the believer is raised up to Christ in order to partake of Christ spiritually.

Now, the dispute you referenced was that the Lutheran view developed beyond the medieval theory of real presence to add a communication of attributes. They saw in the NT teachings about Christ and the Eucharist commitments that seemed to require divine traits of Christ's humanity. As a result, they argued that some attributes of Christ's divine nature must be communicated to his human nature — insisting, however, that this communication of attributes is unique to Christ's humanity, due to the Incarnation; such attributes are not communicable to the general human population. The Lutherans appealed to Cyril of Alexandria, in particular, who seemed to argue exactly that: Christ's divine attributes are communicated to his humanity in the Incarnation. 

The difficulty for the Lutherans was that, in a Western context, "attribute," especially when used in reference to God, refers to the essential properties of the divine nature. Think of it this way. Four-sided is an essential property, or attribute, of the nature square. Now, in the case of a square, we could identify accidental properties of a particular square (e.g., This square is blue) as attributes — that is, as properties attributable to that square. But in Western theology, from the time of Augustine forward, God was seen as “absolutely simple essence” (summa simplex essentia). Hence, God has no accidents. Any divine attribute is necessarily an essential property of the divine nature. So, in suggesting that the divine attributes are communicated to Christ's humanity, it seems the Lutherans are claiming that the divine essence mingles with Christ's human nature, or essence, which would indeed be a form of monophysitism: i.e., Christ not only has two natures, but these natures mingle together, or are confused, in the union of the two. The opponents of the Lutherans rightly pointed out this fact. 

Yet, the Lutherans saw in Cyril an insistence that there is some communication of attributes in Christ. And they were correct! (However, "attribute" means something different in the Eastern fathers than in the West, a point I will get to shortly, but the Lutherans did not know this.) Hence, they fired back that it was Nestorian to insulate the natures one from another and deny a communication of attributes. And the Lutherans were correct on this point; such a position is indeed Nestorian and thus heretical. 

So, with these positions on the table, what are we to make of the discussion in the light of the Eastern Church fathers and, more specifically, the seven Ecumenical Councils of the first eight centuries? Afterall, you are correct to say that we should look at these issues in light of Chalcedonian Christology, if you are using "Chalcedonian Christology" as a catchall term for a proper understanding of Christ and the Trinity as articulated and defended throughout the first eight centuries. Looked at in this way, the question is really twofold: What did we receive from the first? (This question and its answer is always at the center of the Ecumenical Councils.) And what does this deposit of faith tell us about the Eucharist? But before looking at the Eastern Church fathers and what insights they might offer, allow me to first make some comments on these Western theories.