Why I Go to Church: Real Presence in the Eucharist

Kullervo
September 10, 2012
https://byzantium.wordpress.com/2012/09/10/why-i-go-to-church-real-presence-in-the-eucharist/

I go to Church to experience the real presence of Jesus Christ in the sacrament of the eucharist.

For Mormons, the sacrament is a covenantal rite: you take the bread and water as symbols, in
rememberance of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and in order to renew your baptismal covenant. It’s a
sacred ordinance, but it is purely symbolic. Plenty of Mormon literature discusses the Roman
Catholic doctrine of transsubstantiation and why it is a false and apostate doctrine, but that’s it,
really. As a result, for most of my life I didn’t have the slightest inkling that there was such a
massive excluded middle between those two polar ends of the eucharistic doctrinal spectrum.

But now, years after leaving Mormonism, I have discovered the middle, and it is absolutely
amazing. I don’t buy that the bread and wine literally transform in my stomach into Jesus’s flesh
and blood. But when I take the eucharist, I know that God’s presence is literally there in a
unique, incarnational and mysterious way. And it blows my mind and makes me actively and
impatiently look forward to it all week. I hunger and thirst for it.

I’m no theologian, so I couldn’t tell you the ins and outs of the doctrine, but what I can tell you is
that when I understood that God was literally and uniquely present in that bread and wine, all the
awkward and troublesome pieces of Christianity fell together for me. I knew it was what I was
missing.

Like most liturgical Christian churches, the service at the church we attend is completely
centered on communion. The eucharist is the climax of the liturgy. Everything else points to it or
builds up to it. If you, like me, have spent your life in a sermon-focused (or talk-focused,
whatever) worship tradition, you have no idea what a eucharist-centered liturgy is like. The
sermon is nice, but I don’t go to church to for the sermon. I go to church to take communion. If
the sermon winds up being a flop, that’s sad, but it’s really not that big of a deal. The sermon is
only a small part of the worship. The real message is the bread and wine, and the unique
presence of God in it. When we eat it and drink it, we eat and drink grace itself. It is a physical,
tangible thing, and it is completely and utterly infused with Spirit. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t bother.

The other day I was chatting with Katie L, and I told her that I felt so strongly about the doctrine
of real presence that I didn’t think I would even be willing to take communion at a church that
taught that it was only a symbol. I surprised myself not only by saying that, but by really
meaning it. It was like revelation.

My last serious attempt at Christianity as a post-Mormon, in 2008, was a frustrating and sadly
dissatisfying experience. To put it simply, I was in it for new life, for transformation, for the
experience of God, and it kept not happening. I got a lot out of the theology and the worship
service, but on a personal spiritual level, I was waiting for something like a click in my head,
something to happen that made me feel changed. I was waiting for Grace to so something,
something I could feel. I felt like I should know when I was forgiven or when I was accepted as
Jesus Christ’s, like I should feel something that would mark the transition from the old life to the
new life.

But it kept not happening, and I didn’t know what was wrong. I wanted to become a Christian,
but I didn’t know what to do to become a Christian. Or how to know when I had become one.

I know that there are a lot of Christians out there, especially Evangelical Protestants, who would
say that all I had to do to be a Christian was to accept Jesus Christ as my personal savior. Well, I
tried that, but it didn’t feel any different. I prayed sincerely and told Jesus that I accepted him,
that I wanted to follow Him, that I was His, and it just didn’t click. Nothing happened. I didn’t
feel any different after praying than I did before, and I didn’t understand why.

So eventually I just lost interest. The transformation I wanted to happen wasn’t happening. As
appealing as I thought church and Christianity were, Led Zeppelin gave me a heavier buzz than
Jesus christ ever did. So I drifted away from Christianity. Explored other options. Looked for
spirituality in unconventional places.

Here’s the thing though: while I was going to Church, praying, and grappling with scripture and
theology, what I was not doing was anything that was sacramental. I didn’t get baptized. I didn’t
take communion. I was waiting for something inward to happen first.

In Mormonism, the religious tradition I was raised in, the conversion process is neatly
prescribed: you read the Book of Mormon, you pray to ask God if it’s true, you feel a “burning in
the bosom” that tells you it’s true, you become a member of the church by being baptized, you
are confirmed a member and you are given the Gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of hands,
and then you take the sacrament (what they call communion) every week as a symbol of Jesus
Christ’s sacrifice to renew your baptismal covenants.

The critical variable in the equation was that “burining in the bosom.” The expectation that you
will be converted by a personal mystical experience–a click that makes you feel different–and
then you respond to that mystical experience by ritually making and renewing covenants.

For better or worse, that is how I have approached religion ever since I left Mormonism, and that
is how I approached Christianity in 2008: I read, I prayed, I worshipped, but nothing mystical
ever happened. And I held back on making commitments or taking part in sacraments because I
felt like that click should come first. That’s how I was raised: the click happens first, and you
memorialize it with ritual second. The click is conversion. The click is how you know that things
have changed, how you know you have been changed from a non-believer to a believer. And
since the click never came, I I felt like it wasn’t taking. So I observed. I prayed along. I sang. I
crossed my arms and let the priest bless me. But I never pursued baptism, and I never considered
actually taking communion, because to me, sacraments were secondary. Sacraments were for
people who already felt the click.

I was totally and completely wrong. The sacraments are the click. I was waiting for something to
happen in a vague and inward way that was being offerent to me right up at the front of the
church in a literal and physical way. I was praying for Jesus Christ’s presence to enter into me
without realizing that Jesus Christ’s table was set liberally with his presence right before my eyes
and I was invited to eat and drink my fill, but I kept saying no.
Jesus Christ, the bread and water of life, is offered to me every week, and I am welcome to it.

That’s why I go to church. Well, one of the reasons, I guess.