Chesterton, the Incarnation, and discovering the truth about the Eucharist

Readings:
• Dt 8:2-3, 14b-16a
• Psa 147:12-13, 14-15, 19-20
• 1 Cor 10:16-17
• Jn 6:51-58

The English author G. K. Chesterton (1874-1936) was a constant source of wisdom and encouragement while I was trying to figure out “the Catholic thing” years ago. One of my favorite Chesterton books, in fact, is titled The Thing: Why I Am a Catholic, written in 1929. Chesterton is very quotable, known for employing paradox and unexpected points of comparison and contrast. In The Thing, he applied this gift to the matter of the Incarnation and the Eucharist, for Chesterton, among other things, was also a very good theologian.

“Heaven,” he wrote, “has descended into the world of matter; the supreme spiritual power is now operating by the machinery of matter, dealing miraculously with the bodies and souls of men.”

In a real way, that is a commentary on the entire Gospel of John, which is deeply incarnational and sacramental. Responding to a Protestant critic who denied that the Eucharist is the true Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus Christ, Chesterton stated that he could not understand why Protestants cannot see “that the Incarnation is as much a part of that idea as the Mass; and that the Mass is as much a part of that idea as the Incarnation.”

A Puritan—and Chesterton was addressing a certain sort of Calvinist—“may think it blasphemous that God should become a wafer,” but that stance is an illogical prejudice against the notion that “the miraculous should descend to the plane of matter…”

Put another way, to say the Eucharist cannot be Jesus Christ is a denial of several things: the words of Christ, as we hear in today’s Gospel; the Tradition of the Church, which is emphatic on this point; the power of God to become man and thus enter the material realm in a transformative way; and the goodness of the created world itself.

Chesterton emphasized the latter two points: “If it be profane that the miraculous should descend to the plane of matter, then certainly Catholicism is profane; and Protestantism is profane; and Christianity is profane.” If God did, in fact, become man and dwelt among us—see the first chapter of John’s Gospel—then heaven has invaded earth with a passionate abandon, a sort of divine recklessness, that changes everything. Everything!

This is heaven invading earth: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

That is a direct assault on our comfortable categories and tidy divisions between the ordinary and the divine. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life,” said Jesus, “and I will raise him on the last day.” There is no reservation about bread being boring and wine being vulgar; on the contrary, bread will become the flesh of the King of kings, and wine will become the blood of the Lord of the Universe.

Why? Because the Triune God is Creator, Giver, and Lover. He created out of love, which is his very essence. God, says the Catechism, “has no other reason for creating than his love and goodness: ‘Creatures came into existence when the key of love opened his hand’” (CCC, 293).

God desires to feed us, but he doesn’t want us to settle for mere bread, not even miraculous bread, as we hear in the first reading. For we cannot really live by bread alone, but live, ultimately, “by every word that comes forth from the mouth of the LORD.”

And Who is the word that comes forth from the mouth of the Lord?

Jesus Christ, the Word incarnate, who is the Bread from Heaven. And the bread we break, having been consecrated and changed by the power of God, the Holy Spirit, is the body of Christ, as St. Paul reminded the Corinthians.

Heaven, indeed, has descended into the world of matter, and we partake of the very King of Heaven, under the form of the most ordinary bread.

(Note: This “Opening the Word” column originally appeared in the June 22, 2014, issue of Our Sunday Visitor newspaper.)