Holy Scripture clearly affirms the substantial presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. Yet, throughout the history of the Church, theologians have explained this presence in different ways. In Western Christendom before the Reformation, transubstantiation became the standard doctrine. The Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 dogmatized transubstantiation as official and infallible Church teaching. The Council of Trent reaffirmed transubstantiation after the Reformation was underway.
Luther On Transubstantiation
Martin Luther distributing Holy Communion
Martin Luther took a different approach. In On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, Luther rejected transubstantiation, while still allowing that it could be accepted as a theologoumena. Although he later became more opposed to the doctrine, Luther was never as hostile to transubstantiation as he was to the sacramental teaching of the southern Reformers. This was largely because although transubstantiation is a misguided account of the substantial presence of Christ in the Eucharist, it nevertheless affirms the core biblical teaching that Jesus is present in the elements of the Lord’s Supper.
No passage of Scripture ever describes the Lord’s Supper itself as a sacrifice. Neither does the New Testament speak of ministers as priests re-presenting Christ’s work… Moreover, from an evangelical perspective, a sacrificial concept of the Mass problematically makes it into a work, albeit one enabled by grace….
The Lord’s Supper as Sacrifice
Although the Lord’s Supper is not a sacrifice in itself, this does not mean it has no connection with the sacrificial work of Christ. As American Lutheran theologian Charles Porterfield Krauth notes:
The idea of sacrifice under the Old Dispensation sheds light upon the nature of the Lord’s Supper. . . Sacrifice through the portion burnt, is received of God by the element of fire; the portion reserved is partaken of by men, is communicated to them, and received by them. The eating of the portion of the sacrifice, by the offerer, is as real apart of the whole sacred act as the burning of the other part is. Man offers to God; this is sacrifice. God gives back to man; this is sacrament. The oblation, or the thing offered, supplies both sacrifice and sacrament, but with the difference, that under the Old Dispensation God received part and man received part; but under the New, God receives all and gives back all: Jesus Christ, in His own divine person, makes that complete which was narrowed under the Old Covenant by the necessary limitations of mere matter.1
David Scaer adds that the Lord’s Supper is a sacrifice from God’s perspective, but a sacrament and testament from the perspective of believers. In other words, in the Lord’s Supper, Christ, as part of his priestly ministry, holds up his previously sacrificed Body and Blood to the Father. This intercessory act reminds the Father of the forgiveness of sins won on the cross. God then delivers forgiveness through the testament of the Lord’s Supper to believers.
However, there remain substantial differences between Roman Catholic teaching regarding the sacrifice of the mass and Lutheran doctrine. A key difference is that for Lutherans Christ himself is the active agent of the Lord’s Supper, rather than a priest acting in persona Christi. Moreover, according to Lutheran teaching, communicants passively receive the promise in the Lord’s Supper. Reception directly into the mouth clearly confesses this belief. In post-Vatican II Roman Catholicism, however, communicants actively enter into and participate in Christ’s self-offering to the Father. Instead, Lutherans, with Scripture, affirm the Lord’s Supper as a visible word of promise received by passive faith and not a grace-enabled work.
The Augsburg Confession affirms the ancient and medieval consensus of the catholic Church that Christ’s flesh and blood are substantially present in the Eucharist: “Of the Supper of the Lord they teach that the Body and Blood of Christ are truly present, and are distributed to those who eat the Supper of the Lord; and they reject those that teach otherwise.”1 This avowal of the substantial presence of Christ’s flesh and blood in the Lord’s Supper was integral to the Lutheran Reformation from the beginning. In On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, Martin Luther criticized the practice of communion in one kind (i.e., the pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic practice of withholding the cup from the laity), transubstantiation, and the idea of the Mass as a sacrifice for the living and the dead. Nevertheless, unlike most other reformers, Luther very clearly confessed the real presence based on canonical and evangelical principles. Since the real presence was overwhelmingly the catholic consensus of the Church from its inception, the catholic principle also applies to this theological question.
Martin Luther, The Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ—Against the Fanatics, 1526 (AE 36:329ff.) – image: St. John Lutheran Church, Wheaton, IL
Paul’s Affirmation of the Substantial Presence
First, with regard to the canonical principle, the New Testament straight forwardly affirms the substantial presence of Christ in the Lord’s Supper. As Luther tirelessly emphasized, the words of institution themselves (“this is my body . . . this is my blood”) do not admit a metaphorical interpretation. The words of institution are a promise regarding the sacramental elements set before the Christian. Moreover, they are also deed-words that accomplish the consecration so that the bread and wine become vehicles conveying the true body and blood of Jesus to all recipients.
One of the key marks of the Church mentioned in the Apostles’, Nicene, and Athanasian Creeds is catholicity: “I believe in one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.”1 This reflects the New Testament’s emphasis on the Church’s universality, unity, and harmony as delivered by the Holy Spirit. Humans are sinful and remain so even after being converted to the faith. As a result, resistance to the Spirit can disrupt this unity. However, sin can never ultimately shatter the fundamental unity of the catholic Church. Hence, in his high priestly prayer, Jesus famously prays that “they [the Church] may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me” (Jn. 17:21). Similarly, Paul spends most of 1 Corinthians advising the congregation at Corinth to humbly put aside their differences under the cross and engage in practices that will promote unity, as opposed to division, in the body of Christ.
Modern Christian theologians treat many of these calls for unity in the New Testament as carte blanche orders to impose institutional unity on the Church.2 However, these passages must be counterbalanced by calls for members of the Church to separate themselves from the wicked (Matt. 18:17, 1 Cor. 5, 2 Cor. 6:14, 1 Jn. 2:19, Rev. 18:4). We often think of sin primarily in terms of individual actions that violate the commands to love our neighbor in the second table of the Ten Commandments. Yet, we just as frequently violate the commands of the first table of the law. This occurs when Christians spread or embrace false teachings about God and fail to honor and love him above all things. Sins against the first table of the law also constitute “wickedness.” Heresy, therefore, cannot be tolerated in the body of Christ, and separation must occur on an individual or corporate scale when false teaching occurs.
The New Testament admonishes believers not to have fellowship with those in grave moral error. It follows that Christians cannot have fellowship with groups or individuals who error in the fundamental articles of the faith. For example, St. Paul is quite clear that Christians should not participate in pagan worship or have fellowship with those who engage in such worship (1 Cor. 10:18-22). Participation in sacrifice to an idol and the consumption of sacrificed meat in an idolatrous setting is an act of fellowship with those who worship false gods and through them have unwitting fellowship with demons. Paul also compares the false fellowship of pagan worship with real communion with the true God conveyed by the sacrifices of the old covenantal order (1 Cor. 10:18), as well as the Christian Eucharist (1 Cor. 10:14-17).3
The connection between the Word of God and something physical and tangible does not necessarily differentiate the ministry of the Word and the Sacrament for Martin Luther. But perhaps the function of the sacraments in the Christian life does differentiate them. The difficulty in most Protestant accounts of justification is a kind of monism of the auditory Word of God.1 The believer hears the Word of God and appropriates it by faith. Luther would not disagree with this, but he extends the principle to the sacraments as well. Sacraments are visible promises, and promises must be believed.
Christians retain their sinful nature, which tempts them into unbelief. As a result, when believers rely upon the ministry of the Word of God alone without the complement of the sacraments, doubts about individual appropriation of the gospel can creep in. How does one know with certainty that the divine Word was meant for him or that he has actually received it?
The typical Protestant response has been to attempt to demonstrate faith’s authenticity through supplementary signs of the Spirit’s interior work. The problem is that all these alleged signs of the Spirit’s work can be easily faked, either consciously or unconsciously. By contrast, Luther sees the sacraments as ways of redirecting the sinner away from his own subjective doubt and into the objectivity of the Gospel promise in the tangible means of grace. In one fascinating passage in The Sacrament: Against the Fanatics of 1526, Luther writes:
When I preach his [Christ’s] death, it is in a public sermon in the congregation, in which I am addressing myself to no one individually; who grasp it, grasps it. But when I distribute the sacrament, I designate it for the individual who is receiving it; I give him Christ’s body and blood that he may have forgiveness, obtained through his death and preached in the congregation. This is something more than the congregational sermon; for although the same thing is present in the sermon as in the sacrament, here there is the advantage that it is directed at definite individuals. In the sermon one does not point out or portray any particular person, but in the sacrament it is given to you and to me in particular, so that the sermon comes to be our own. For when I say: “This is the body, which is given for you, this is the blood which is poured out for you for he forgiveness of sins,” I am therefore commemorating him; I proclaim and announce his death. Only it is not done publicly in the congregation but is directed at you alone.2
