Ecclesiology After the NEC with Bishop Barron as Our Guide

I was not blessed to personally attend the National Eucharistic Congress this past July. However, I know several bishops, priests, religious sisters, and seminarians, both religious and diocesan seminarians, who had attended, and all of them came back enthused and excited. Even parishioners whom I encountered in parishes in both the Archdiocese of New York and the Diocese of Brooklyn at Sunday Masses that I have celebrated have mentioned to me that they watched every event at the NEC on EWTN and were edified by everything that they had seen. In my own local church, in both the Archdiocese of New York and in the Diocese of Brooklyn, the Seton Route passed through Saint Joseph’s Seminary and College, and I was honored to preach as the Eucharist was adored in our seminary chapel.

The question now, I think, is quite simple: what do we do in this third year of the Eucharistic revival? What does it mean for us as a Church? In my opinion, as a priest and as a theologian, it means that we need to rediscover a simpler Eucharistic ecclesiology, based on the four marks of the Church, one that Bishop Robert E. Barron has already articulated so well.

With this being the case, in order to understand Barron’s ecclesiology (a theological term which means the study of the nature and mission of the Church),¹ we must first examine Bishop Barron’s notion of the Church as a “Body but Suffering and Glorious,” particularly studying the concept of the Mystical Body of Christ, including the Communion of Saints. This will lead us to an appreciation of Bishop Barron’s theology of the Eucharist, and finally, the active role that the Catholic laity must play in the midst of the Body of Christ who is the Church.

In the first extensive work by Barron on ecclesiology, found in Catholicism (2011), we find Barron beginning with the Creed. In the Symbol of Faith, something that all Christians profess, but something that we as Catholics Sunday after Sunday, solemnity after solemnity, we profess belief in a Church that is “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.” Barron asks a question, one which many have asked over the years:

Does this not amount to the conflation of Creator and creature? Is it not effectively blasphemous to announce one’s faith in a human institution? To answer these questions is to come to the heart of the Catholic understanding of the church, for Catholics do not hold the church to be merely a human organization, simply a coming-together of like-minded people, a community of purely worldly provenance and purpose. Rather, the church is a sacrament of Jesus and, as such, shares in the very being, life, and energy of Christ. According to the inexhaustibly rich metaphor proposed by St. Paul, the church is the body of Jesus, an organism composed of interdependent cells, molecules, and organs. Christ is the head of a mystical body made up of everyone across space and time who has ever been grafted onto him through baptism. And lest we think that this organic understanding was a peculiar invention of Paul, call to mind the vivid language that Jesus himself used in order to express the relationship that obtains between himself and his followers: “I am the vine; you are branches (Jn. 15:5); “remain in me (Jn. 15:4); unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you (Jn. 6:53).” I could be such an admirer of Abraham Lincoln that I would be inspired to join the Abraham Lincoln society and regularly attend its meetings, but I would never be tempted to speak of eating Lincoln’s body and drinking his blood. I could admire the life and work of Mahatma Gandhi so enthusiastically that I would be moved to found the Gandhi society, but it would never occur to me to speak of being grafted onto Gandhi. But we Catholics say just such radical things when we describe our relationship with Jesus.²

When reading Barron’s comments from his interview book and from his own text, Catholicism, we can glean two parts which are essential for a proper understanding of Barron’s ecclesiology: first, the Church is the Mystical Body of Christ and second, it is formed and sustained by the Eucharist.

Christ is the head of the Body, the Church; we are his members, as Colossians 1:18 tells us. There is a complete and utter identification between Christ and those who follow his way. In fact, when one member suffers, all suffer. The Church is the ekklesia tou theo, the “gathering of the people of God.” Ekklesia means “called from.” Barron asks three questions: “Who does the calling? What is one being called from? And what is one being called into?” (148) In answer to the first question, it is the Lord who is doing the calling. Summoned by a “higher power,” the Christian “relativizes his own will and placed whatever desires he has within the context of the desire of a greater will.” (148) Second, in answer to the second question, Barron states that the Christian has been summoned “out of the world,” the “world” being defined by Barron as “the whole network of institutions, beliefs, behaviors, and practices that fosters division.” (148–149) The Church is called out of the “region of the unlikeness,” to quote Augustine, a region of “non-being” (149) and stands as an ark, a “shelter from the storm, a boat tossing on the waves of a dysfunctional world.” (150) And third, answering the question “What are they being called into?” it is precisely into the community of Jesus, one that bears the four marks of the Church, “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.” (155)

The Church is one, according to Barron, because her founder is one. Using the theology of both Paul Tillich and Joseph Ratzinger, Barron powerfully comments:

Jesus compels a choice, precisely because he claims to speak and act in the very person of God. Jesus simply cannot be one teacher among many, and therefore those who walk in his way, must be exclusively with him. More to it, the God whom Jesus incarnates is one. As we saw, the Israelite conception of God is fiercely monotheistic and hence it excludes any diversity or syncretism at the level of basic belief: “The Lord your God is a jealous God.” Joseph Ratzinger commented that the opening line of the Nicene Creed, credo in unum Deum (I believe in one God) is a subversive statement in the measure that it automatically rules out any rival claimant to ultimate concern. To say that one accepts only the God of Israel and Jesus Christ is to say that one rejects as ultimate any human being, any culture, any political party, any artistic form, or any set of ideas. (156)

Christ, a “jealous God,” demands that he and he alone must be our area of ultimate concern. The life of a Christian, any Christian no matter what vocation or state of life that he or she finds himself or herself in, must be about one thing — the Lord. This radical Christocentrism is exhibited in the life of the Church in her creeds, her liturgy, and her common commitment to service. Legitimate diversity in liturgical rites, spirituality, and schools of theology does not hurt this unity, it only enhances it. Barron comments: “Rather, the play between the one and the many in ecclesial life is like that which obtains within the tensive harmony of the three divine persons of God.” (157)

The next mark of the Church that Barron discusses is that of being holy. He comments:

It is holy because Christ is holy and the church is Christ’s mystical body. Holiness is deeply related to unity, since holiness is a kind of wholeness or integrity, a cohering around a center. It is fascinating how, across the languages, the terms for health and holiness are similar: “holy” and “whole” in English, “saint” and “sain” in French, “Heil” and “Heiligkeit” in German, ”santo” and ”sano” in Spanish. Holiness is the integration that follows from placing God unambiguously at the center of one’s concern; it is the coming-together of all of one’s faculties — mind, will, imagination, energy, body, sexuality — around the single organizing power of God. Or to shift the metaphor, it is the suffusing of the entire self with the love of Christ. Now the church is a bearer of this holiness in its authentic traditions, in its Scriptures, in its sacraments (especially the eucharist), in its liturgy, in its doctrinal teaching, in its apostolic governance, and in its saints. In all of these expressions, it is the spotless bride of Christ, the fountain of living water, the new Jerusalem, the recovery of Eden. And by its holiness, the church makes people holy. (160–161)

The Church is holy because Christ is holy. The Church is sinless, but we, the members of the Church, are sinful, flawed human beings, which is why we need the Holy Church to begin with!

Moving to the third mark of the Church, “catholic,” Barron, of course, begins with the definition of the term “catholic,” which means “universal.” The Church is spread throughout time and history. The Church demonstrates both “internal integrity” and “universal outreach.” (164) Barron comments: “The Catholic Church has all of the gifts that Christ wants his people to have: Scripture, liturgy, theological tradition, sacraments, the Eucharist, Mary and the saints, apostolic succession, and papal authority. From the Roman Catholic point of view, all of the non-Catholic Christian churches have sacrificed one or more of these qualities and therefore fall short of completeness or catholicity.” (164)

As such, the Church of Jesus Christ “subsists in” the Catholic Church.³ Barron states that this is “because that communion possesses full integrity; it operates ‘according to the whole.’ A wise teacher of mine once commented on the ‘grandma’s attic’ quality of Catholicism, by which he meant our wonderfully stubborn refusal ever to throw anything out.” (164–165)

According to Barron, the Church demonstrates her catholicity, her universality, when she can be in a “culture and language transcending universality.” (165) With this in mind, how can the Church, who is one, holy, and catholic, avoid accusations of intolerance and totalitarianism? How can we say that the Church is the universal sacrament of salvation (Lumen Gentium 48) and that Jesus Christ is the sole source of salvation? Barron answers:

The best way to respond to such concerns is to show how the many faiths, religions, and philosophies do, in fact, to varying degrees, already participate in the fullness of Christ’s gifts and are hence implicitly related to the Catholic Church. We have already gestured toward the significant points of contact with other Christian faiths, but there are many analogies with the non-Christian religions as well. With Jews, Catholics share a belief in the one Creator God who called Israel to be a light to the world. With Muslims, Catholics hold to the faith in the one providential God of mercy who speaks through a variety of prophets. Buddhists and Catholics come together in a keen sense of the finally ineffable quality of ultimate reality, and in their commitment to definite forms of mystical contemplation. Catholics and Hindus share a profound sense of the immanence of God to the world. All of these points of contact, all of these “rays of light” are not only semina verbi (seeds of the word) but also semina catholicitatis (seeds of catholicity). (166)

 Finally, we turn to the last mark of the Church, that of being apostolic. The Church is founded on the apostles. This is a fact that particularly hits home for me when I look at the chalice that I have from my dear friends, the Religious Sisters of Mercy of Alma, Michigan. This chalice (pictured in the image accompanying this editorial), though it may not be everyone’s liturgical “cup of tea,” reminds of this scriptural passage: “For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures” (1 Cor 15:3–4). This is not merely an accident of history; it is part of Christ’s divine plan. Barron writes:

Now the apostles are not simply a distant memory; rather, they live on through what we call the apostolic succession. The New Testament witnesses to the practice in the early church of the Apostles placing their hands on the heads of those to whom they wished to communicate authority. These chosen few, formed by the Apostles themselves, could be entrusted to preserve the faith, and in time, these successors passed on their apostolic authority to another generation, and so on, the Catholic Church holds, to the present day. Therefore, the apostolicity of the church is our guarantee that we are, despite many developments and changes across the centuries, still preserving the faith that was first kindled in that company of Jesus’ friends. When I was ordained a priest, a successor of the Apostles laid hands on me and thus gave me a share in his authority. Whatever capacity I have to govern, sanctify, or teach in the church comes from my participation in that apostolic charism. I realize that this talk of apostolic authority runs counter to many of our cherished assumptions, at least in the West, about democracy, the free play of ideas, freedom of expression, etc. Why couldn’t the church democratize itself and accept the authority of the majority of its people? Again, it is most important to note that the apostolic church is not a debating society which endlessly bats around ideas or a democratic polity whose direction is simply a function of popular choice. Rather, it is grounded in the revelation personally granted to a chosen few, who in turn passed it on to others and so forth. The church of Jesus Christ would not be itself if it denied the divinity of Jesus, the facticity of the resurrection, the existence of the triune God, the activity of the Holy Spirit, the efficacy of the sacraments, the real presence of Jesus in the eucharist, etc. Mind you, every one of these has been denied by church people up and down the centuries, and I frankly wonder how many would pass muster if they were voted on today. (168–169)

With these marks in mind, and centered on the Eucharist, perhaps this can be our hope for this third year of the National Eucharistic Revival. We, the Body of Christ, the Church, are fed and led by the Body of Christ. Perhaps nothing might summarize Bishop Barron’s views on the Church, glorious and suffering, a Mystical Body who is one, holy, catholic, and apostolic and the Eucharist, the Church’s source and summit of worship as much as this passage from Saint Augustine of Hippo:

What you see on God’s altar, you’ve already observed during the night that has now ended. But you’ve heard nothing about just what it might be, or what it might mean, or what great thing it might be said to symbolize. For what you see is simply bread and a cup – this is the information your eyes report. But your faith demands far subtler insight: the bread is Christ’s body, the cup is Christ’s blood. Faith can grasp the fundamentals quickly, succinctly, yet it hungers for a fuller account of the matter. As the prophet says, “Unless you believe, you will not understand.” [Is. 7.9; Septuagint] So you can say to me, “You urged us to believe; now explain, so we can understand.” Inside each of you, thoughts like these are rising: “Our Lord Jesus Christ, we know the source of his flesh; he took it from the virgin Mary. Like any infant, he was nursed and nourished; he grew; became a youngster; suffered persecution from his own people. To the wood he was nailed; on the wood he died; from the wood, his body was taken down and buried. On the third day (as he willed) he rose; he ascended bodily into heaven whence he will come to judge the living and the dead. There he dwells even now, seated at God’s right. So how can bread be his body? And what about the cup? How can it (or what it contains) be his blood?” My friends, these realities are called sacraments because in them one thing is seen, while another is grasped. What is seen is a mere physical likeness; what is grasped bears spiritual fruit. So now, if you want to understand the body of Christ, listen to the Apostle Paul speaking to the faithful: “You are the body of Christ, member for member.” [1 Cor. 12.27] If you, therefore, are Christ’s body and members, it is your own mystery that is placed on the Lord’s table! It is your own mystery that you are receiving! You are saying “Amen” to what you are: your response is a personal signature, affirming your faith. When you hear “The body of Christ”, you reply “Amen.” Be a member of Christ’s body, then, so that your “Amen” may ring true! But what role does the bread play? We have no theory of our own to propose here; listen, instead, to what Paul says about this sacrament: “The bread is one, and we, though many, are one body.” [1 Cor. 10.17] Understand and rejoice: unity, truth, faithfulness, love. “One bread,” he says. What is this one bread? Is it not the “one body,” formed from many? Remember: bread doesn’t come from a single grain, but from many. When you received exorcism, you were “ground.” When you were baptized, you were “leavened.” When you received the fire of the Holy Spirit, you were “baked.” Be what you see; receive what you are. This is what Paul is saying about the bread. So too, what we are to understand about the cup is similar and requires little explanation. In the visible object of bread, many grains are gathered into one just as the faithful (so Scripture says) form “a single heart and mind in God” [Acts 4.32]. And thus it is with the wine. Remember, friends, how wine is made. Individual grapes hang together in a bunch, but the juice from them all is mingled to become a single brew. This is the image chosen by Christ our Lord to show how, at his own table, the mystery of our unity and peace is solemnly consecrated. All who fail to keep the bond of peace after entering this mystery receive not a sacrament that benefits them, but an indictment that condemns them. So let us give God our sincere and deepest gratitude, and, as far as human weakness will permit, let us turn to the Lord with pure hearts. With all our strength, let us seek God’s singular mercy, for then the Divine Goodness will surely hear our prayers. God’s power will drive the Evil One from our acts and thoughts; it will deepen our faith, govern our minds, grant us holy thoughts, and lead us, finally, to share the divine happiness through God’s own Son Jesus Christ. Amen!⁴