What Is the “Real Presence” and
Why Does It Matter to Me?
My grandson Owen was born in Madison on May 6, 2020, several weeks before his due date. For health reasons, his family has spent most of the last year at home, keeping Owen safe, caring for him every second of the first eleven months of his life. Through this time, I have visited him through windows, seen him in his snowsuit across his driveway, and even figured out how to play peek-a-boo with him over Zoom!
Today, I was able to meet Owen in person. Though I was prepared to keep my distance and not overwhelm him, thinking it would be several visits before he was used to me, Owen decided that period of adjustment really only needed ten minutes. I sat on the couch with his dad and Owen “walked” from his dad’s knees to mine, and within a half hour, he was on my lap face to face, inspecting my teeth. It was wonderful!
Though we all did our best these past months trying to stay connected, it wasn’t the same as holding him in my arms. I never knew exactly the unique color of his golden-brown hair. I never knew how long his eyelashes were, nor the exact weight and feel of his agile, sturdy little body. I hadn’t known all the sounds he can make. Owen wasn’t overwhelmed, but I was awed by his real presence.
My colleague, Al McCauley, and I have been discussing how to share the teaching of the “real presence” of Christ in the Eucharist. We both recognized that my meeting Owen was a hint at what that means.
While there isn’t a simple or fully adequate way to explain it, the Church teaches that the real presence is the glorified Christ who was raised from the dead by the Father. This is different than the physical, historical body of Jesus. The Catechism of the Catholic Church (1374) calls “real presence” “the body, blood, soul and divinity of the Risen Christ.” It is genuine, and it is personal. And this “real presence” remains in the Sacred Host reposed in the tabernacle. The risen Christ is alive in the Eucharist.
When Jesus told his apostles to take and eat his body, he was speaking of more than his physical body. He was inviting them to absorb all of him—his values, his care for people, especially those in need, and his faithfulness to the Father. He wanted to continue his mission on earth through us, in the way we live the life we are given.
The traditional word used to change the bread and wine into the body and blood of Christ is “transubstantiation,” which St. Thomas Aquinas, the 13th century theologian, used to describe how the bread and wine still looked and tasted like bread and wine, but the substance, through the power of the Holy Spirit and the words and actions of the priest, is transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ. And as our lives are transformed, we better represent the Body of Christ to the world.
This is a very brief explanation of what the real presence of Christ is. Maybe the best thing, by way of explanation, is to acknowledge that this is what we call “mystery”—that is, not something to be solved, but a truth that unfolds in our individual lives. We can open our heart and mind to “know” it. I often think as I walk into church, I am not here to go to Mass but to enter this mystery, so that Christ can love me and teach me to love.
Why does all this matter? Because if we can absorb even a tiny amount of Christ’s divine and self-sacrificing love, we could, perhaps, unleash that love and make a difference in our world.
