An ecumenical note

When it comes to Christ's real presence in the Eucharist, Catholics, understandably, tend to focus intensely on his presence in the consecrated, transsubtantiated, elements of bread of wine. We often do so to the exclusion of the other ways Christ is present in the Eucharist. To be clear, by "Eucharist," I mean the Mass, the Eucharistic liturgy.

That Eucharist can refer exclusively to the consecrated elements, strikes me as another indication of what is perhaps too concentrated a focus. According to Sacrosanctum Concilium, while he is "especially [present] under the Eucharistic species," Christ is also present in the Eucharist(ic liturgy) in three other distinct and integral ways: in the gathering of the baptized, that is "when the Church prays and sings," in the person of the priest, in the proclamation of Sacred Scripture (sec. 7).

It is also important to note that the high point of the Eucharistic liturgy is not the priest speaking the words of consecration. As necessary and vitally important as this is, it is not the high point. The Eucharistic liturgy "builds" toward the Communion Rite. It is our reception of Christ's body and blood that makes us Christ's Body in and for the world. Eucharist leads to mission, which is why we call the Eucharistic liturgy "Mass." From the Latin root missa, it relates to missio, or mission.

In terms of liturgies and worship services celebrated by other duly baptized Christians, I frequently hear Catholic comments along the lines that Christ is not really present in these celebrations. But can he be truly absent? Is it possible that the Lord is not true to his word that where two or more are gathered in his name, he is present (see Matthew 18:20)? If we take our cue from a dogmatic constitution approved by an ecumenical council and promulgated by the Roman Pontiff, which gives said constitution a very "high" authority in terms of the Church's magisterium, Christ is present in these celebrations.

When and where the baptized gather to pray and sing, Christ is present. When and where the scriptures are proclaimed in a gathering of the baptized, Christ is present. Let's not forget, all the baptized in some way belong to the one Church of Christ. It is a matter of great importance that the Catholic Church does not rebaptize those who are truly and duly baptized when they seek to be in full communion. It's hard for many not have a monopoly on Jesus Christ.

Then, of course, there is the Orthodox Church, which, from a Catholic perspective, celebrate valid sacraments. When someone who is Orthodox seeks to come into full communion with the Catholic Church, s/he is not only not baptized, s/he is not reconfirmed.

Baptism is the basis of ecumenism. Ecumenism differs from other ways the Church dialogs, like interreligious dialogs or discussions with new religious movements (interactions with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Jehovah's Witnesses, etc., fall into this category, not full-blown ecumenism).

Ecumenism is Christians working together to foster communion of all who believe in Christ, all who are baptized into his death and resurrection.

First among "the initiatives and activities planned and undertaken" with regard to ecumenism, the Second Vatican Council, in its decree Unitatis redintegratio, is that Catholics should make "every effort to avoid expressions, judgments and actions which do not represent the condition of our separated brethren with truth and fairness and so make mutual relations with them more difficult" (sec. 4). Insisting there is no way Christ is present when they gather to worship seems very much a violation of this principle.

A corollary

This post is a corollary to my Sunday reflection on the epistle reading from Romans 5:6-11. The following also arises from the liturgy. It was prompted by Morning Prayer, traditionally called Lauds, one of the offices that comprise the Church's official prayer, known as Liturgy of the Hours.

Two things in Morning Prayer for Tuesday, Week III of the Psalter linked to the connection between faith and works that is so crucial for living a genuinely Christian life. But before getting to parts of this morning's prayer, there was something else that helps make that connection. It is a clip I watched last night from a standup performance by comedian Aaron Weber.

In course of talking about an interaction he had with a homeless man he'd come to be acquainted with in Nashville, where he lives, he said something like, "As a Christian, I try to help the poor." He then noted, "But I'm a Catholic, so I like them to earn it." This encapuslates precisely the attitude I was trying address, one that, to repeat, is so vital to understanding where Pope Francis was coming from.

Now, don't get me wrong. Grace is not opposed to effort. Being a Christian is not a passive endeavor. Far from it. Being a Christian requires one to live very intentionally. Grace is opposed to earning. As noted, the effort (i.e., good works) prompted by grace flow from gratitude. "Without cost you have received; without cost you are to give" (Matthew 10:8).

This brings me to the prompt from today's Morning Prayer: the Old Testament Canticle for Tuesday Morning, Week III, is Isaiah 26:1-4.7-9.12. Like the words quoted above from last Sunday's Gospel, what struck me were the final words of the canticle: "LORD, you will decree peace for us, for you have accomplished all we have done" (Isaiah 26:12).

Then, one of the Intercessions for Morning Prayer sort of made this a revelatory moment:

Look kindly upon our weakness and hasten to our aid,
for without you we can do nothing

As Christians, we are not compelled by the Law. Following Christ is not about complying with the checklist of holiness. Rather, as Saint Paul insisted, it is "the love of Christ [that] impels us" (2 Corinthians 5:14). This is not a distinction without a difference. Rather, it is two very different ways of being.

Christ died for us

Romans 5:6-11

Okay, I did not preach this Sunday. Therfore, I can once again focus on the second, or "epistle," reading. This week's second reading is from Saint Paul's Letter to the Romans.

Unlike the apostle's other letters to various churches (Corithians, Philippians, Ephesians, Colossians, Thessalonians), his Letter to the Romans is not to a Church he founded. The Church in Rome, where Saint Peter is venerated as first bishop, was already extant. Paul's reason for writing to the Christians of Rome was that, having appealed his case to the emperor, which was his right as a Roman citizen, he was making his way there as a prisoner of the state.

Because of the circumstances leading to his missive, the apostle does not comment on matters within the Roman Christian community nor seek to correct anything. What we have in Romans, considered to be the final text of the authentically Pauline corpus, is what can best be described as the Church's earliest systematic exposition of Christian soteriology. In some respects, what we have in Romans is a more mature statement of fundamental matters Paul first wrote about in his Letter to the Philippians.

Our passage for this Eleventh Sunday in Ordinary Time, taken from the fifth chapter of Romans, is best prefaced by verse twenty-three of the third chapter of Romans: "all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God." It is sin, which is best defined as the failure to love God with your entire being and to love your neighbor as you love yourself, that makes us, to use Paul's word, ἀσεβής.

ἀσεβής transliterates as asebés. Asebés has a range of meaning from irreverent to impious to wicked. All of these are, of course, "ungodly."

Despite our impiety and even our wickedness, God still loves us. He proves (not proved- past tense) his love for us that wicked though we be, "Christ died for us." Now, it would be going too far to say that God loves us because of our sinfulness. Yet, it does not go far enough to say that God loves us inspite of our wicked ways. It is our sinfulness that makes us like sheep without a shepherd. It is this that also moves the Sacred Heart of Jesus so deeply.

I was reminded of this earlier this week when a friend posted something on Faceook written by the late Father Herbert McCabe:

Sin doesn’t alter God’s attitude to us; it alters our attitude to him, so that we change him from the God who is simply love and nothing else into this punitive ogre, this Satan. Sin matters enormously to us if we are sinners; it does not matter at all to God. In a fairly literal sense, he doesn’t give a damn about our sin. It is we who give damns (Faith Within Reason, pg. 157)

What McCabe wrote strikes me as a great exposition of this Pauline passage.

This brings me to a fundamental aspect of the teaching of Pope Francis, something so fundamental to understanding him that if not grasped confusion ensues. In his lengthy interview with his fellow Jesuit, Father Anthony Spadoro shortly after becoming Pope, Francis, when asked who he was, led with this:

I do not know what might be the most fitting description…. I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner (See "A Big Heart Open to God")

I am going to say it, without this acknowledgement, you cannot be a Christian. But this is not enough. To be a Christian, you must also realize that you are a loved sinner, one for whom Christ died.

To be a Christian, then, is to be a grateful recipient of God's mercy given us in Christ. You can't receive divine mercy if you don't realize your need for it. The Holy Spirit is the medium through which mercy is given and received.

Being a grateful recipient of God's mercy means having the desire for everyone to experience it. A big part of Pope Francis' teaching and witness was to flesh out what this means in terms of living one's life and sharing one's faith in a convincing way.

Even now among many Catholics, the belief that you earn your salvation through good works persists. Well, you don't and you can't. But you can easily drive yourself and others nuts by desperately holding onto and living from such a futile belief. Living from such a belief quickly reduces Christianity to banal moralism. Especially early on in his pontificate, Francis took aim at this tendency with both barrels.

It is Christ and Christ alone who, while we are irreverent, impious, and at times even wicked, reconciles us to God. This is an ongoing work until the Lord returns. This is what it means when we say in the context of the liturgy, "We proclaim your death, O Lord/And profess your resurrection/Until you come again."

As Saint Paul implies, reconciliation with God through Christ is a gift. Hence, it can only be "received." Truly receiving this amazing gift makes one deeply grateful. "Eucharist," after all, means thanksgiving. It is from gratefulness that good works flow. A Christian attitude is one of gratitude.

Who is a Christian? Notes on a recent interview

Today, I was featured in an interview conducted by a reporter from a local television news station (see "What does it mean to be a Christian in Utah and across the world?"). The specific question on the table, arising from the controversial Department of Defense decision, which has since been reversed, to de-classify the Church of Jesus of Christ of Latter-day Saints as a Christian religion, is an old one where I live- Are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints Christians?

As it pertains to the DoD's unfortunate ruling, I agree with Utah Senator Mike Lee (something that doesn't happen often), namely that it is no business of the government to make doctrinal decisions or determinations. At least in the United States of America, it is the role of government to guarantee freedom of religion for everyone. While this didn't make the cut for either the video report or the lengthier print piece, I did say this quite clearly during the interview.

Reading a few of the comments on the station's YouTube channel prompted this post. There were several comments basically saying that I was somehow dishonest about the Catholic Church's view of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints vis-à-vis Christianity. Of course, I was neither surprised nor particularly bothered by such ill-informed comments.

President Dieter Uchtdorf, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve, paying a visit to Bishop Oscar Solis, Bishop of the Diocese of Salt Lake City, 14 April 2026

Nonetheless, there are a couple of considerations that are necessary. First, the video report doesn't contain the entire interview. Second, while the written article contains more of the interview than the short video, neither does it set forth the entirety of what I said (see written piece "What does it mean to be a Christian in Utah and across the world?").

Of course, there are fundamental theological differences between Catholics and Latter-day Saints. Without a doubt, the most fundamental of these is our respective beliefs about God's very nature and being. This difference is what caused the then-Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, responding to a dubia in 2001, to determine that LDS baptism is not considered valid by the Catholic Church.

Of course, rejection of the Trinity has huge implications for our differing theological beliefs about the nature(s) and person of Jesus Christ. I suppose an argument can be made that orthodoxy impacts/influences orthopraxy. No doubt it does in several respects but not in some totalizing way. My point is, before there is any disputing about who's right and who's wrong, these are simply objective and important differences that honest Catholics and Latter-day Saints acknowledge.

On the basis of our differing beliefs, I think it would be interesting to reverse the question by asking, "Are Catholics, from an LDS perspective, Christians?"

One would think my use of the phrase "in a meaningful sense" would be understood as a qualifier. In the horizontal aspect, whoever seeks to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ can be considered a Christian in some sense. In the interview, I also discussed the priority of orthopraxy over orthodoxy.

More holistically, whoever believes that Jesus' passion, death, and resurrection has redemptive value and who endeavors to follow him is a Christian in a meaningful sense, even if from an historical and theological point-of-view something of a heterodox one. For any thinking and caring person, the question "Are Latter-day Saints Christians?" cannot be answered in a simple, barely qualified, and syllogistic way.

How well do you think most Christians would do if asked to articulate a thoroughly orthodox understanding of either the Trinity or the hypostatic union? Is someone who claims to be Christian and who has a less than orthodox grasp of these two fundamental dogmas still a Christian?

As the reporter suggests, the descriptor "Christian" is not a univocal one, especially for people with no faith commitment. For such people, it is often rather puzzling these disputes among people who claim to be Christians. As Christians, let's bear mind Jesus's teaching. I am thinking specfically of Mark 9:38-40 and Luke 9:50.

We are the Body of Christ

Reading: 1 Corinthians 10:16-17

Very often the second reading, sometimes known as the "epistle reading," is ignored. It's okay because the Gospel is what the preacher usually focuses on. This is as it should be most of the time.

In his First Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul wrote about the Eucharist in several passages. In the section of the tenth chapter of 1 Corinthians from which our second reading for today's solemnity is taken, the apostle is writing about avoiding idolatry. In particular, he warned about participating in public rituals in which animals were sacrificed to pagan deities.

Paul stated clearly that these sacrifices were not merely to non-existent entities. Rather, these were sacrifices to demons. Of course, the priest who conducted these sacrifices and those who participated did not deliberately and knowingly sacrifice to demons. Pagan and Christian understandings of of divinity were very different, which is what made Christians weird and Christianity a strange religion. Nonetheless, Paul insists that is what they did.

A few chapters earlier in 1 Corinthians, Paul approves eating the meat of animals sacrificed in pagan rituals. He just urges Christians not to partake of this meat if it caused scandal to other Christians, those with what he calls "a weak conscience" (1 Cor 8:10). One reason for this is that, unlike our situation today in advanced countries, meat was not readily available. So, a large public sacrificial ritual was likely an occasion when people could obtain it.

What Paul objects to is participation in the pagan worship. Okay, nice. So what? Well, even in our day, idols abound. I'd say idolatry now is more profligate than it was during the first Christian century. Idolatry, according to Saint Paul a few verses past the two that constitute our reading, provokes "the Lord to jealous anger" (1 Cor 10:22).

True worship, the highest form of worship, is Mass, the Eucharistc liturgy. By partaking of holy communion, we individually are made into members of Christ's body and together we become the Body of Christ, Corpus Christi. Rejecting historicism, I am still inclined theologically to assent to Henri de Lubac's provocative insistence that at some point there was a reversal in our understanding of the Body of Christ.

This reveral made the Eucharist, the transubstaniated elements of bread and wine, verum Corpus Christi and the Church Corpus Christi mysticum. Isn't it actually Christ's mysterious and mystical, empirically undetectable, presence in the bread and the wine that make us, the Church, his true Body? One problem is that today we think of "real" as empirical, tangible, measureable. While such things certainly are real, not only do they not exhaust reality, they are not what is most real. If the the Eucharist is the bread of angels, doesn't it have to be mystical? Again, "mystical" doesn't mean less real.

I repeat this often, the only truly convincing proof that the bread and the wine become Christ's body and blood are the lives of those who partake of it. It is up to you and me to demonstrate the truth of the mystery at the very heart of reality. To deal with an objection that might easily be made to what I just wrote, this in no way fails to recognize the ex opere operato nature of the Eucharist.

Transubstantiation, if you will, happens whether you believe it or not. This is all fine and well, serving as a great ontological backstop. In his Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein asserted that if God could talk we wouldn't be able to understand him.

In his great work of systematic theology, Principles of Christian Theology, John Macquairrie, in a similar vein, noted that for revelation to be revelation it wasn't enough for God reveal. God's revelation requires a recipient. In other words, if God speaks and no one understands, did the falling tree make a noise or how many people in the third car of the Chicago-bound train have blue eyes?

Anyway, it's easy to get lost in words. So, let's stick with "the Eucharist makes the Church and the Church makes the Eucharist." Or, better yet, Saint Paul's rheortical questions from our reading, which he answers in the following verse: "The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?" (1 Cor 10:16).

You are beautiful

Probably the greatest anthropological error in advanced societies today is the reduction of the human person to her/his sexuality. In short, you are not your sexuality. That sexuality is an important dimension of human being is beyond doubt.

From a holistic Christian perspective, human sexuality is a gift from God, a blessing. Your sexuality is not just a blessing for you. When well-understood and lived properly, it is a blessing for others.

To use Pope Saint John Paul II's frame, sexual union is the way you can most fully give the gift of yourself to another. Through this, the blessing can extend beyond the couple. The expansion of the blessing beyond sexual partners is not creepy in the least. How is it not weird? Easy, by maintaining the vital link between sex and procreation.

Eros can be transformed into agape. In his still magnificent first encyclical, Deus caritas est, Pope Benedict XVI provided a wonderful meditation on eros and agape (see sections 3-8).

Chastity is not the doctrine of "No." It's important to point out that for married couples, chastity does not mean sexual continence. One easily overlooked and progressive aspect of Humanae Vitae is Pope Saint Paul VI's positing of the "unitive significance" of sex in marriage (sec. 12).

What comes after "No"? In essence, the Church teaches that chastity is "the successful integration of sexuality within the person, ensuring the inner unity of one's bodily and spiritual being" (CCC 2337). This inner unity is vitally important. It's what it means to say the Christian approach to sexuality should be "holistic."

Not only are you not your sexuality, sexual acts aren't all there is to sex. To reduce sexuality to just having sex is a monstrous reduction, one that reduces your humanity and that of others. It is "monstrous" because we're all either witnesses to the effects of this reduction or have suffered ourselves and maybe even harmed others and not necessarily in grave and deliberate ways, though maybe in those ways, too.

To be clearer, just think of watching pornography. For many people today, this activity is considered to be fairly innocent. It's not and it never is. The prevalence of porn is nearly impossible to exaggerate. Talk about an abasement of our humanity as well as that of those who make porn!

Your sexuality is not the most important dimension of the mystery of your person. It isn't even the most interesting aspect of who you are. Insisting that human sexuality is a secondary dimension of the human person isn't to say that it doesn't matter. It is to say that it isn't all that matters or even the most important matter.

Let's be honest, sexuality is a place of great human vulnerability for most if not all people. Many, many people, women and men, bear deep sexual wounds that demonstrate the truth of our vulnerability.

I realize that along with my post on synodality, this post is more provocative on matters sexual than I have written for several years. As I wrote in my Integrity Note: "Stated simply, everything that appears here is my responsibility, especially that which turns out to be inaccurate or uncharitable."

Anyway, some thoughts for a Friday when I am not preaching. What is the important aspect of your person? You are created in the image of God. And the ontological reality that God loves you and there is nothing you can do about it flows from this.

As Pope Leo XIV asserted in Magnifica Humanitas: "No sin, failure, humiliation or exclusion can diminish the profound value of a human life that God has willed and called into being" (sec. 52). Yes, that includes you, your life. It's a concrete reality, not an abstraction.

Anyway, Twila Paris singing "How Beautiful" is our Friday traditio. We haven't had one in awhile.

The vulnerability of parental love

For my morning prayer time this year, I have been using a book I found in a discard pile: An Ignatian Book of Days. Put together by Jim Manney, the book consists of curated meditations for each day of the year. This book has been a boon for my spiritual life.

As a husband and as a father, one who, along with my wife, has been going through our most challenging time in more than thirty years of parenting the past year-and-a-half (I will spare you the details and safeguard my child's privacy), I was particularly struck by the extended extract from another book, written by Carmelite nun Ruth Burrows: Essence of Prayer, that was today's meditation from An Ignatian Book of Days.

I am not sure that consoling is the best word to describe the effect of what Burrows wrote had on me. I would have to go with hopeful. As longtime readers know, I have a very specific take on hope.

Consider a blissfully happy couple finding all they need is one another. For no other reason than generosity and the desire to share their happiness, they decide to adopt children as their own. From then on their life undergoes a profound change. Now they are vulnerable, their happiness is wrapped in the welfare of the children; things can never be the same again.

If the children choose to alienate themselves and start on the path to ruin, the couple are stricken, They will plead, humble themselves, make huge sacrifices go out of themselves to get their loved ones to understand that the home is still their home, that the love they have been given is unchanging.

This perhaps gives us some insight into redemption. In a mystery we cannot fathom, God "empties," "loses" Himself in bringing back to Himself His estranged, lost children. And this is all the Father wants. This is the only remedy for His wound. God is no longer pure God, but always God-with-humanity-in-his-heart

On a theological note, the Incarnation practically forces you to dump your Aristotelianism and your Platonism. As Pascal learned, the God of the philosophers is not the saving God, the God of redemption and liberation, God as revealed in Jesus Christ.

It is, of course, through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit that, in baptism, we become children of God by adoption (the Father has only one begotten child, a Son).

As parents of six children, my wife and I have experienced our share of ups and downs, joys and sorrows, consolations and desolations. We haven't dealt anything of the magnitude of what we are currently enmeshed in. "Now they are vulnerable," indeed! Thank God fo that.

It is truly right and just, our duty and our salvation,
always and everywhere to give you thanks, Father most holy,
through your beloved Son, Jesus Christ, . . .

While I am not one of those who thinks spiritual truths need to validated empirically and scientifically (I am more one who is like, "Duh, of course many of these things bear out empirically!"), here is an article that I found useful: "The Good Kind of Vulnerability."