The Lord’s Supper: From Symbolic Communion to Mystical Sacrament of the Eucharist
Introduction
The understanding and practice of communion, or the Eucharist, stand as a significant point of corruption within Christianity. For centuries, dominant traditions, notably Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, have upheld the belief that the bread and wine consecrated during the rite become, in a real, metaphysical sense, the actual body and blood of Jesus Christ. Doctrines such as Transubstantiation and the Real Presence articulate this view, presenting the Eucharist as a sacrament – a channel of divine grace mediated through physical elements. This perspective, however, stands in stark contrast with the original institution of this practice by Jesus and his apostles.
This article undertakes a comprehensive historical and theological analysis to argue that the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic sacramental doctrines surrounding communion represent a departure from apostolic Christianity.
In the earliest days of Christianity, the rituals of communion (the Lord’s Supper) and baptism were simple, symbolic acts rich in meaning but devoid of magical or mystical pretensions. Yet over the centuries, under the influence of Greek philosophical concepts and the “mystery religions” of the Hellenistic world, these modest apostolic practices evolved into elaborate sacraments. These developments are corruptions of the original apostolic faith. The earliest Christians knew one metaphysical power in their midst: the Holy Spirit of God working through them. All other rites were memorial and symbolic, outward expressions of inward truths.
We will also critically assess the later influence of the Gospel of John – a text that many scholars believe reflects a later theological development – in promoting a mystical understanding of Christ and the sacraments. In doing so, we incorporate evidence and arguments from modern critical research, suggesting that John’s Gospel should be used cautiously when reconstructing original Christian practice.
By examining how concepts from Greek philosophy and mystery cults seeped into Christian thought, we will see more clearly how the “pure” apostolic teachings on communion and baptism – as symbolic memorials – were gradually transformed into sacraments viewed as channels of grace or even literal embodiments of divine substance, rather than the role of the Holy Spirit being emphasized as the principle metaphysical element of primitive apostolic Christianity.
The goal is a detailed, evidence-based argument that calls readers back to the simplicity of the New Testament church. The thesis is clear: what Jesus and his apostles handed down regarding communion was a “do this in memory of me” fellowship meal, but what later Christianity practiced – with priests allegedly transforming bread into God and distributing it to the faithful – was something else entirely. This is not merely a denominational opinion but a conclusion supported by Scripture, early Christian writings, and historical scholarship. In the sections that follow, we will unpack this thesis step by step, with careful attention to sources and in-text citations.
The Apostolic Institution of Communion as Memorial
The Apostle Paul and the Gospel of Luke provide the clearest window into this original intent of Communion. Paul recounts Jesus instituting the bread and cup with the command: “Do this in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19; 1 Cor. 11:24-25). In these accounts, Jesus identifies the bread as “My body” and the cup as “the new covenant in My blood,” but emphasizes the memorial aspect – “do this…in remembrance” ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ). There is no indication in Luke or Paul that the elements undergo any metaphysical change; rather, partaking in them “proclaims the Lord’s death until He comes” (1 Cor. 11:26) as a commemorative act of faith.
Luke’s Gospel in particular, widely regarded by scholars as a careful historical account, gives us the purest tradition of Jesus’ words at the Last Supper. As the most reliable gospel witness, Luke’s version preserves the original meaning of the Eucharist as a memorial meal. According to Luke, at the Last Supper Jesus took bread, gave thanks, broke it and gave it to his disciples saying, “This is my body which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” He then took the cup, saying, “This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood” (Luke 22:19–20, ESV). The key phrase “do this in remembrance of me” – found in Luke and echoed by Paul (1 Cor. 11:24–25) – establishes the commemorative nature of the rite (Logos Virtual Library: Saint Justin Martyr: First Apology, 66). Luke’s inclusion of Jesus saying, “Do this in remembrance of Me,” underscores that the supper was instituted as a symbolic commemoration of Christ’s sacrifice.
Early Christian practice, as recorded in the Book of Acts and the epistles, reinforces the understanding of communion as a symbolic meal of fellowship and covenant remembrance. The first disciples “devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers” (Acts 2:42). This “breaking of bread” was an ordinary idiom for sharing a meal. Acts describes believers gathering “day by day… breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts” (Acts 2:46), indicating that the Lord’s Supper was often celebrated in the context of a larger communal meal (a practice later known as the agapē or “love feast”).
When it comes to breaking bread, it is mentioned in Acts without any fanfare as part of normal worship (Acts 2:42, 20:7). Had the first Christians viewed the Eucharist as the moment of literally confecting the sacrifice of Christ or consuming the divine, we would expect Acts to emphasize it; instead, Acts emphasizes the word of God and the Holy Spirit multiplying among the people. Far from being an occult ritual for an initiated few, the breaking of bread was an integral part of community life, a joyous occasion of unity.
Paul’s letters show concern that the Corinthians observe the Lord’s Supper properly – some were eating and drinking in excess while others went hungry – which makes sense only if the Supper was a regular shared meal where believers were supposed to “wait for one another” (1 Cor. 11:20-22,33). Paul reminds them of the sacred significance of the bread and cup as symbols of the Lord’s body and blood, urging them to partake in a worthy, respectful manner (1 Cor. 11:23-29). Yet even Paul’s stern instructions do not imply any magical transformation of the elements; rather, the danger in Corinth was not discerning the symbolic significance – treating it as a common meal with divisions – thus sinning against the unity symbolized by “the body of Christ,” which in context can mean both Jesus’ body given for us and the church as His body (1 Corinthians 11:25 Commentaries: In the same way He took the …). The emphasis is on unity, self-examination, and remembering Jesus’ sacrifice, not on any change of substance in the bread and wine.
Paul’s teaching centers on the symbolism of the rite. The bread and cup are tangible reminders of Jesus’ body broken and blood shed on the cross. Partaking of them is a solemn proclamation of faith in His atoning death ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ).
Paul’s warnings about partaking in an “unworthy manner” (1 Cor 11:27) and the need for “discerning the body” (1 Cor 11:29) are often cited to support metaphysical interpretations (Real Presence). However, three viable interpretations do not entail a doctrine of Real Presence:
Symbolic or Memorialist Interpretation
Proponents of the symbolic view, often associated with Zwinglian theology, argue that the Eucharist serves as a commemorative act rather than a literal transformation of elements. In this perspective, Paul’s admonition against partaking “in an unworthy manner” (1 Cor 11:27) underscores the importance of approaching the Lord’s Supper with reverence and self-examination, acknowledging its role in memorializing Christ’s sacrifice. The “body and blood of the Lord” are thus seen as symbolic representations, and the warning pertains to the attitude and sincerity of the participant rather than the physical nature of the elements.
Communal Interpretation
Another interpretation focuses on the social dynamics within the Corinthian church. Paul addresses issues of division and inequality during communal meals, where wealthier members partook abundantly while poorer members went hungry. In this context, “discerning the body” (1 Cor 11:29) is understood as recognizing and honoring the unity and equality of the church body—the community of believers. Failing to do so, and thus partaking in an “unworthy manner,” reflects a disregard for the communal aspect of the Eucharist and the mutual respect it entails.
Ethical and Self-Examination Emphasis
Some interpretations emphasize personal introspection and moral readiness. The call to “examine oneself” before partaking (1 Cor 11:28) is seen as an exhortation to assess one’s conduct and relationships within the church. The “unworthy manner” refers to participating in the Lord’s Supper without genuine repentance or reconciliation, thereby undermining the sacrament’s significance. This view maintains that the elements are symbolic, and the gravity lies in the participant’s ethical posture rather than the metaphysical properties of the bread and wine.
These interpretations collectively shift the focus from a metaphysical transformation of elements to the symbolic, communal, and ethical dimensions of the Eucharist. They highlight the importance of reverence, unity, and moral integrity in the observance of the Lord’s Supper, aligning with traditions that view the sacrament as a profound memorial and communal act
There is no record in the Bible of Jesus or the apostles teaching that the bread and wine literally turn into Christ’s flesh and blood or that they convey grace automatically (ex opere operato). Such ideas are absent from the apostolic preaching in Acts and from the didactic portions of the Epistles. If consuming the Eucharist were truly the moment of literally receiving Christ or salvation, we would expect it to be emphasized in evangelistic sermons or doctrinal expositions; instead, the early church preaching centers on repentance, baptism, and receiving the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38, for example), with communion being a devoted practice of those who had already believed. The sole spiritual efficacy explicitly tied to the communion bread is memorial – “For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes,” Paul says (1 Cor. 11:26). To “proclaim” is a far cry from “to confect a sacrifice” or “to ingest divinity.” It signals that this act announces the gospel story, keeping it fresh in the community’s collective memory.
In short, the apostolic church understood the Lord’s Supper as a memorial ordinance: an outward symbol of an inward reality, much like baptism symbolized the believer’s cleansing and identification with Christ’s death and resurrection. Within the New Testament itself, communion is consistently a sacred symbol – powerful in meaning, but not a physical transformation. The literalistic interpretation would only emerge later, and significantly, it leans heavily on the Gospel of John’s distinctive language (a gospel we will examine critically below).
The true spiritual communion with Christ was through faith and the Holy Spirit, not through physically ingesting divine substance. As we will see, it was only in later generations that more mystical interpretations arose, overlaying what was originally a straightforward commemorative practice with the idea of a literal metaphysical consumption of Christ.
The Didache: A Secondary Window into Early Practice
The Didache is essentially a church manual that includes instructions on ethics, baptism, fasting, prayer, and communal worship. It likely reached its final form around the turn of the 1st to 2nd century (scholars often date it c. 90–120 AD) (Didache) ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ). While an earlier core may date back to the apostolic era, it’s generally agreed that “in the form we have it, it belongs to the second century.” ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ) That means it may show some developments beyond the very first generation. Even so, the Didache’s chapters 9–10 on the Eucharist are remarkably simple and non-sacrificial in tone. Instead of speaking about body and blood, or any re-presentation of Jesus’ death, the prayers are thanksgivings for food and drink and for spiritual life.
Chapter 9 of the Didache opens: “But concerning the Eucharist (Thanksgiving), after this fashion give ye thanks.” It then gives prayers for the cup and for the broken bread. For the cup: “We thank thee, our Father, for the holy vine of David thy servant, which thou hast made known unto us through Jesus Christ thy Son; to thee be the glory for ever.” (THE DIDACHE)
And for the bread: “We thank thee, our Father, for the life and knowledge which thou hast made known unto us through Jesus thy Son; to thee be the glory for ever. As this broken bread was once scattered on the mountains, and… was brought together and became one, so may thy Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into thy kingdom.” (THE DIDACHE)
Several observations: The prayers thank God for “the holy vine of David” and for “life and knowledge” given through Jesus – these are blessings received through Christ (perhaps symbolized by the wine and bread) but there is no mention of them literally being Christ’s body or blood. The bread symbol is explicitly tied to the unity of the church: just as grains were scattered and then baked into one loaf, so may the church be made one. This shows the understanding of the bread as a symbol of the community in Christ (an echo of Paul’s statement that “we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread,” 1 Cor. 10:17). The Didache then restricts the meal to baptized believers – “Let none eat or drink of your Eucharist but such as have been baptized” (THE DIDACHE) – reflecting an early practice of closed communion (likely to maintain reverence and perhaps to avoid misunderstandings by outsiders).
Chapter 10 continues with a post-communion prayer: “We thank thee, holy Father, for thy holy name, which thou hast caused to dwell in our hearts, and for the knowledge and faith and immortality which thou hast made known unto us through Jesus thy Son; … Thou… hast given both meat and drink for men to enjoy, that we might give thanks unto thee, but to us thou hast given spiritual meat and drink, and life everlasting, through thy Son.” (THE DIDACHE)
This is profound. It contrasts ordinary food and drink, which God gives to all mankind, with the “spiritual meat and drink” and eternal life given through Jesus. The Eucharist here is plainly a spiritual meal – its significance is eternal life through Jesus, not through the elements themselves. The language of “spiritual meat and drink” shows the author understands the bread and cup as spiritual nourishment, again with no assertion that they are literally changed. The thanksgiving continues, asking God to remember His Church, gather it, and so on (THE DIDACHE), ending with “Hosanna” and “Maranatha” – a very early, primitive liturgy.
Notably absent is any reference to Christ’s body and blood or to a sacrifice being offered. In fact, the Didache’s Eucharist prayers don’t even recite the Last Supper words of institution – instead, they function as blessings somewhat analogous to Jewish meal blessings, adapted in a Christian way (thanking God for knowledge, faith, and immortality through Jesus). This has puzzled some scholars – why no mention of “body” and “blood”? One possibility is that the community of the Didache preserved an older tradition in which the Eucharist was celebrated as a joyful thanksgiving meal separate from the more solemn remembrance of Christ’s death. Or, it could be that the liturgy presupposed those words known from the Gospels but chose to focus on extemporaneous thanksgiving instead. Either way, it underscores that at least in some early Christian communities, the Eucharist was a thanksgiving meal emphasizing spiritual blessings and unity, not a reenactment of the Passion in a literal sense. The Didache’s simplicity stands as evidence that the earliest Christians viewed communion as an act of praise and fellowship with spiritual significance, without requiring a theory of metaphysical change in the elements.
For completeness, we note that the Didache, being a composite document, may have been edited over time. Some have suggested that its Eucharistic prayers show a stage of development – possibly even a slightly “proto-gnostic” tendency to avoid mentioning flesh and blood (though that’s speculative). What is clear is that by the 4th century, church orders like the Apostolic Constitutions absorbed the Didache and augmented such prayers with more explicit theology. But the primitive core shines through. The Didache is traditionally attributed to the apostles themselves, but given the evidence of later alteration and its final form likely post-dating much of the New Testament, we use it carefully: it likely represents the practice of Syrian Christian communities in the early 2nd century, with echoes of the original apostolic teaching still intact (Didache) ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ). In any case, it provides powerful corroboration that the Lord’s Supper was a memorial thanksgiving and a spiritual communion.
Reliability of Luke’s Witness vs. John
From a historical standpoint, the Gospel of Luke (along with Acts, written by the same author) is considered highly reliable for reconstructing apostolic teachings. Luke’s account of Jesus’ life and teachings is of paramount historical reliability (possibly an early version of Luke was the first written Gospel). Luke preserves apostolic teaching with fewer later embellishments than other Gospels.
Luke was a companion of Paul, a meticulous historian by his own claim (Luke 1:1-4), and his two-volume work Luke-Acts provides a continuous narrative from Jesus’ birth to the growth of the early Church. There is evidence that Paul himself recognized Luke’s writings as authoritative very early: Paul quotes a saying of Jesus ( “the laborer deserves his wages”) as Scripture in 1 Timothy 5:18, and this saying is found only in Luke’s Gospel (Luke 10:7) This implies Luke’s account was circulating and respected as scripture by the time of Paul’s later ministry, and that Luke is the only Gospel that Paul referred to as Scripture. Paul alludes to exclusive Lukan material in multiple places (The basis for Luke Primacy). Such evidence bolsters the case that Luke’s record of Jesus’ words – including the Last Supper injunction – carries the weight of earliest apostolic endorsement.
But John is an entirely different story – as the distinguished New Testament scholar James D. G. Dunn observes, few scholars would use John’s Gospel as a primary source for Jesus’ actual words “in any degree comparable to the Synoptics” (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com). John presents a dramatically different style of Jesus’ speech – long, discursive theological monologues (“I am the bread of life…,” “I am the good shepherd,” etc.) – which are absent in the earlier Gospels. Dunn notes the “inescapable” inference: these distinctive discourses reflect “the style of the Evangelist…rather than that of Jesus” (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com). If Jesus had truly made the striking “I am” statements recorded in John (e.g. “I am the bread of life” or the command to “eat My flesh and drink My blood”), it is inexplicable that Matthew, Mark, and Luke would omit them entirely. The logical conclusion, as Dunn puts it, is that John’s Gospel represents “Jesus tradition developed well beyond its roots in Jesus’ own mission.” In other words, John is a later theological reflection rather than a reliable presentation of Jesus’ original instructions.
Modern scholarship has widely affirmed that John’s Gospel, by contrast, is a later, theologically driven account and not on par with the Synoptics (Matthew, Mark, Luke) as a source for Jesus’ life and teachings (IssuesWithJohn.com). Early Christian history itself hints that John’s Gospel was not universally accepted at first. A faction in the second century, identified by later historians as the Alogi (meaning “deniers of the Logos”), outright rejected the Gospel of John as inauthentic (Early Opposition to John’s Gospel and Revelation? A New Series on the Alogi « The Jesus Memoirs). Epiphanius (4th-century bishop) reports that this group refused to acknowledge John’s Gospel (and Revelation), attributing these writings to the heretic Cerinthus rather than to John (Early Opposition to John’s Gospel and Revelation? A New Series on the Alogi « The Jesus Memoirs). While the Alogi were a minority, their existence shows that John’s lofty Logos theology and divergent narrative raised suspicion in some early circles.
Early commentators noticed John omits the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper, which the Synoptics describe, and instead includes a different episode (Jesus washing the disciples’ feet) and an extended Bread of Life discourse earlier in Jesus’ ministry (John 6). Some scholars suggest the author of John intentionally relocated Jesus’ teaching about the bread and cup from the Last Supper context to a safer setting (the Capernaum synagogue discourse in John 6) to underscore a spiritual meaning and avoid misunderstandings (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com) According to one analysis, the Fourth Evangelist “suppressed” the Eucharistic words in the Last Supper scene and “transferred them” to John 6, because he feared that if reported literally “they would give rise to more serious misunderstandings” among those who could not distinguish “between spirit and flesh” (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com). In John’s narrative, after Jesus speaks of eating His flesh, He immediately clarifies: “It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh profits nothing” (John 6:63), hinting that a spiritual interpretation is intended. Ironically, despite John’s precautions, it was precisely John’s Gospel – with its dramatic imagery of eating flesh and drinking blood – that later fueled doctrines of a literal and mystical real presence.
Luke’s Gospel, by contrast, offers a sober and straightforward account, free of Philonic or gnostic “Logos” terminology, focusing on the concrete actions and words of Jesus at the Last Supper. If we approach the question of communion through Luke’s reliable testimony, we find a clear apostolic mandate for a symbolic meal of remembrance, not a magical rite. The Lukan Jesus says, “This is My body which is given for you; do this in remembrance of Me” (Luke 22:19) – a statement of identification and commemoration, not a metaphysical explanation. Luke’s account aligns with Paul’s early tradition and with what we see in documents like the Didache. There is no mention in Luke of anyone adoring the bread or treating it as anything other than bread; its significance lies in what it represents to the faithful. By affirming Lukan priority, we hold that normative doctrine should rest on this earliest stratum of teaching. John’s later, highly symbolic narrative – which even in the early Church was sometimes viewed with skepticism – should not be considered on the same canonical level for establishing doctrine (NTcanon.com).
The Gospel of Luke and Acts provide a window into apostolic Christianity that is largely free of later sacramental doctrine. By grounding ourselves in Luke’s testimony, we see communion for what Jesus intended: a remembrance meal and a sign of the new covenant community. The reality that Luke-Acts + Paul are the core of Apostolic Christianity and that the Gospel of John should be regarded as secondary, fortifies the case that the original communion was a memorial ordinance, and the heavy sacramental mystique comes from later interpretations alien to the first-century community. Luke helps us anchor our theology in what is essential (Jesus’ atoning death remembered, believers sharing in unity, God’s promise of the Spirit) rather than metaphysical ritual.
The Gospel of John’s Influence on Eucharistic Theology
John’s Gospel undeniably had a towering influence on later Eucharistic theology. In John 6, Jesus delivers a shocking teaching: “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you… For My flesh is true food, and My blood is true drink” (John 6:53-55). As John gained prominence in the 2nd century, the emerging Orthodox-Catholic tradition, interpreted John 6 as referring to the Eucharist – seemingly elevating the communion meal from symbolic remembrance to a mystical feeding on Christ Himself. 2nd Century theologians began to use John’s language to bolster the idea that the bread and wine of communion were in some sense Jesus’ actual body and blood.
This explicit language of “eating flesh” and “drinking blood” is seized upon by proponents of Real Presence/Transubstantiation as direct scriptural proof for their doctrine. However, several factors argue against a literal, sacramental interpretation being the original intent of this passage, even within the Johannine context itself.
Firstly, the discourse occurs long before the Last Supper and is not directly linked to the institution of communion within John’s narrative structure. As noted previously, John replaces the institution narrative at the Last Supper with the account of Jesus washing the disciples’ feet (John 13). This structural choice suggests John 6 may have had a different primary focus – perhaps on the necessity of accepting and “internalizing” Jesus’ identity and mission as the source of eternal life – rather than serving as a direct commentary on the elements of bread and wine in a future ritual.
Secondly, and crucially, Jesus himself provides an interpretive key later in the same discourse. Faced with disciples who are scandalized by his “hard saying,” Jesus clarifies: “It is the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life” (John 6:63). This statement strongly suggests that the preceding language about eating flesh and drinking blood should be understood spiritually or metaphorically, referring to belief in him and acceptance of his life-giving words, rather than a literal, physical consumption. The “flesh” – the purely physical or literal understanding – “profits nothing”; it is the spiritual reality conveyed through his words that matters.
Despite this internal clarification, the potent imagery of John 6:51-58 proved highly influential. It is argued here that later readers, increasingly detached from the original Jewish context and the Lukan/Pauline emphasis on remembrance, and perhaps influenced by the sacramental ideas prevalent in the surrounding Hellenistic culture, began to read these verses literally. They retroactively applied this language to the communion ritual described in the Synoptics and Paul, thereby providing a seemingly scriptural basis for the developing metaphysical doctrines. In this view, John 6, whether intentionally or through later misinterpretation, became a primary catalyst for the “corruption” of the original symbolic understanding of communion. The juxtaposition of the strong “flesh and blood” language with the immediate spiritual clarification highlights that the literal reading, which gained prominence later, required ignoring or downplaying the author’s own interpretive guide within the text.
Many early interpreters understood John 6 to be fundamentally about faith – “eating” Christ’s flesh, meaning believing and internalizing His teaching, “drinking” His blood, meaning partaking of the life of the Spirit. Yet, as the Church moved into a Gentile milieu, the graphically literal wording of John 6 proved fertile ground for a more corporeal interpretation. John also conflated Jesus with divinity, which resonated with those who wanted the Eucharist to be more than a memorial meal. Over time, what was originally a metaphor in John became dogma.
The Development of Later Eucharistic Doctrine
Let’s trace how Christians increasingly taught that in the Eucharist one truly receives Christ’s body and blood in a mysterious way.
Ignatius of Antioch
Ignatius of Antioch (c. 107 AD) – whose writings we will examine in detail – purportedly spoke of heretics who “abstain from the Eucharist… because they do not confess the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ” (Letter to the Smyrnaeans 6:2, Hoole and Lightfoot versions) (CHURCH FATHERS: Epistle to the Smyrnaeans (St. Ignatius)) Ignatius’s Letter to the Ephesians 20:2 reads “…breaking one bread, which is the medicine of immortality (φάρμακον ἀθανασίας), and the antidote that we should not die but live forever in Jesus Christ.” Patristic commentators consistently understood this passage sacramentally, associating Ignatius’s language with the communion elements specifically.
Justin Martyr
In the mid-2nd century, apologists like Justin Martyr describe the Eucharist in elevated terms. Justin Martyr makes this statement:
“For not as common bread and common drink do we receive these; but in like manner as Jesus Christ our Savior, having been made flesh by the Word of God, had both flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise have we been taught that the food which is blessed by the prayer of His word, and from which our blood and flesh by transmutation are nourished, is the flesh and blood of that Jesus who was made flesh.” (Justin Martyr, First Apology (c. 66), translated by Marcus Dods and George Reith)
Justin affirms that Christians do not regard the bread and cup as ordinary food, but rather in some sense as Christ’s flesh and blood. Does this mean Justin believed in a literal transformation (as later transubstantiation)? Possibly not in the later Aristotelian sense, but he certainly stresses a real significance to the elements.
Justin Martyr, originally trained in Greek philosophical traditions before converting to Christianity, presents certain challenges regarding his credibility as a direct witness to apostolic Christianity. His pagan background and deep familiarity with Platonic thought may have predisposed him to interpret Christian doctrines through a philosophical and Hellenistic lens rather than purely from apostolic tradition. This philosophical heritage is apparent in Justin’s tendency to draw parallels between Christianity and pagan mystery religions, as he explicitly notes similarities in rituals such as the Eucharist. Caution is warranted when considering Justin Martyr’s testimony as reflective of apostolic Christianity
Justin Martyr explicitly identifies a parallel between Christian communion and the mystery religions. He accuses the devil of plagiarizing the Christian rite in the rituals of Mithraism. Justin states:
“Which the wicked devils have imitated in the mysteries of Mithras, commanding the same thing to be done. For, that bread and a cup of water are placed with certain incantations in the mystic rites of one who is being initiated, you either know or can learn.” (Logos Virtual Library: Saint Justin Martyr: First Apology, 66).
This remarkable statement shows a few things: (1) By Justin’s time, outsiders had noted similarities between Christian communion and pagan initiatory meals (Mithraic rituals did apparently involve a sacred meal of bread and drink, though details are scant). (2) Justin, operating with the assumption that Christianity is the true religion, explains this by saying demons pre-imitated Christian rites to deceive people (a typical apologetic argument in that era). (3) Justin is aware that placing bread and a cup with prayers is part of mystic rites in other cults, so he’s sensitive to the charge that Christianity borrowed from earlier mysteries – and he forcefully flips it by claiming diabolical mimicry.
The above demonstrates that the similarity between the emerging Christian Eucharistic ritual and Hellenistic mystery ceremonies was clearly evident by the mid-2nd century. (Logos Virtual Library: Saint Justin Martyr: First Apology, 66) Justin’s Christian audience and his Roman readers both knew what the Mithras cult did. Justin’s approach was essentially to say, “Mithras copied us”.
Irenaeus of Lyons
Irenaeus of Lyons (c. 180) used language indicating that the bread and wine, upon receiving the Word of God, become the Eucharist:
“For as the bread, which is produced from the earth, when it receives the invocation of God, is no longer common bread, but the Eucharist, consisting of two realities, earthly and heavenly; so also our bodies, when they receive the Eucharist, are no longer corruptible, having the hope of the resurrection to eternity.” (Irenaeus of Lyons’ Against Heresies, Book V, Chapter 2.3 (as translated in the Ante-Nicene Fathers, vol. 1 (Roberts and Rambaut translation))
Confronting Gnostic denials of the resurrection, Irenaeus argues that since the flesh is nourished by Christ’s body and blood in the Eucharist, it is capable of salvation. He writes: “He has acknowledged the cup, a part of creation, as His own blood… and the bread, a part of creation, He has established as His own body, from which He gives increase to our bodies” And: “When… the mingled cup and bread receive the Word of God, they become the Eucharist, the body and blood of Christ” (Against Heresies, Book V, Chapter 2). This underscores that by the late 2nd century, the Church taught that the earthly elements are consecrated into a profound union with Christ’s body and blood. Irenaeus even uses Eucharistic realism as proof of the future resurrection: if Christ’s true body and blood are given to believers in the Supper, then our physical bodies, having been fed by this sacred food, are assured to rise incorruptible (newadvent.org).
One should note that Irenaeus of Lyons frequently engaged in highly speculative and somewhat quirky theological postulations, particularly evident in his attempts to combat Gnostic interpretations. His detailed theory of “recapitulation,” wherein Christ symbolically retraces and rectifies every stage of human existence—including infancy and adolescence—illustrates his imaginative approach, which occasionally borders on allegorical excess. Moreover, his peculiar assertion that Jesus had to live into old age, beyond thirty, to redeem individuals of all ages, underscores Irenaeus’s readiness to introduce unconventional ideas to support his theological frameworks. Additionally, his expansive descriptions of millennial expectations, including highly literal depictions of an earthly paradise characterized by enormous grape clusters and extraordinary agricultural abundance, further exemplify his inclination toward idiosyncratic and vividly speculative theological narratives.
By the end of the 2nd century, references to the Eucharist as a “sacrifice” are forwarded by, Irenaeus who describes the Eucharist as the new oblation of the Church, fulfilling Malachi’s prophecy of a pure offering to God in every place’ (Against Heresies, Book IV, Chapter 17, Section 5) Thus, the Lord’s Supper had clearly moved beyond a symbolic memorial for these early theologians. They turned it into a sacrament in which earthly food becomes a heavenly gift, as Irenaeus affirmed it to be a participation in Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice and a source of spiritual life.
Tertullian
Tertullian (c. 200 AD), An early Latin theologian from Carthage, On the Resurrection of the Flesh (ch. 8), Tertullian emphatically writes: “The flesh feeds on the body and blood of Christ, that the soul likewise may be filled with God.” Here he speaks of the Eucharist as a real communication of Christ’s body and blood to the Christian’s flesh – a decidedly realist view although elseware he speaks of of the bread being a figure (sine) of His body.
This reflects how Christians in the post-apostolic period often freely used symbolic language alongside literal belief. The term “sacrament” (Latin: sacramentum) itself was introduced by writers like Tertullian to denote holy rites that are outward signs of an inward grace. So Tertullian confirms that by 200 AD, Latin Christians viewed the Lord’s Supper as a sacrament – a visible symbol that actually confers the reality of Christ. There is no hint of later scholastic definitions, but there is both symbol and reality: the bread symbolizes Christ’s body in appearance, and is Christ’s body in substance
Later Developments
A telling indication of the transformation is how the early church began to treat the Eucharist with secrecy and awe. By the 3rd and 4th centuries, there were explicit rules that the content of the Eucharistic prayers and the doctrine of the Eucharist were not to be disclosed to catechumens (unbaptized learners). Saint Cyril of Jerusalem in the 4th century, for example, only explained the Eucharist to the newly baptized in special lectures (Mystagogical Catecheses).
Mystery Religions and Their Influence on the New Testament and Early Christianity (a scholarly article published by Noyam Publishers), notes:
“The non-baptized and those on the way to baptism were not permitted to the sacred Christian special meal, which was regarded as the remedy bringing deathlessness and acquired its efficacy through epiclesis (invocations) of the priest. In other words, the cultic meal was placed under a kind of discipline of secrecy.”
Here we see Christian language almost indistinguishable from mystery religion: a “special meal” that is a “remedy for deathlessness (immortality)” activated by prayers of a priest, and cloaked in secrecy. This is a far cry from the open communion in homes described in Acts. The transformation is evident: whereas early Christians evangelized by inviting people to “taste and see” the goodness of the Lord in a communal setting, later the Eucharist became a guarded mystery for the spiritually elite. We also see the introduction of the idea that the Eucharist has efficacy – it “does” something (immortality, forgiveness, etc.) by virtue of a priestly invocation. This mirrors pagan rituals wherein a priest by chanting could supposedly infuse a meal or a potion with divine property.
By the time of the Council of Nicaea (325 AD) and into the late Roman Empire, the Eucharist was universally regarded as a sacred mystery at the heart of Christian worship. We see more systematic teaching in catecheses: St. Cyril of Jerusalem (c. 350) instructed converts, “Do not regard the bread and wine as ordinary; after the invocation of the Holy Spirit, they become the Body and Blood of Christ” (Catechetical Lectures). St. Ambrose of Milan (c. 390) taught that the nature of the elements is changed by consecration: “Before consecration it is bread; after consecration it is Christ’s Body”. Such statements show the church moving toward an ontological explanation (the idea of a change of substance) while still using the language of mystery. By the 5th century, Augustine could speak of the sacrament as a “visible word” and say “the thing signified by the sacrament is itself what gives life”. Augustine sometimes described the Eucharist figuratively (e.g. calling it the bond of love in the Church), but he also affirmed “Christ was carried in his own hands” in a figurative sense when he offered the bread at the Last Supper, and he adores Christ present in the sacrament. In summary, patristic theology by the end of antiquity fully embraced the mystical/sacramental interpretation – the Eucharist was a mystery of faith, worshiped and treated as Christ present, even as they acknowledged the outward symbolic forms.
Later, in the High Middle Ages, Aristotelian philosophy (through Thomas Aquinas and others) introduced the terminology of substance and accidents to explain the Eucharist – saying the substance (essential reality) of bread changes into Christ’s Body, while the accidents (appearances) remain bread and wine. Such a concept is entirely absent from Scripture and the early church; it is a scholastic attempt to rationalize the mystery using Greek metaphysics. But the ground for needing such an explanation was laid much earlier when the church accepted that, in some sense, Christ’s literal body is present in the sacrament.
The term “transubstantiation” (Latin transubstantiatio) began to be used by theologians by at least the 11th century to describe the change of the substance of bread and wine into Christ’s body and blood. The shift toward a consistently metaphysical interpretation was gradual, not completed until the medieval period when the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation was officially defined at the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215, and later at the Council of Trent.
It’s worth noting that the Eastern Orthodox Church never formally defined a mechanism (like transubstantiation) but still embraces the mystical Real Presence, often content to call it a mystery beyond comprehension. This reticence to define is arguably closer to the early church’s stance (which didn’t define because it still saw it as symbolic); however, the Orthodox equally moved far from a purely memorial view – heavily influenced by the patristic legacy of seeing the Eucharist as a transformative encounter with the divine, something very much resonant with Greek mystique.
In summary, the chronology of the development of church tradition pertaining to communion is as follows:
- Symbolic memorial and fellowship meal (1st century)
- Emerging mystical/sacrificial understanding (2nd–3rd centuries)
- Uniform sacramental realism (4th century onward)
- Philosophical articulation of the mystery (medieval scholasticism)
- Dogmatic definition of Transubstantiation (1215 and 1551)
None of these developments would likely have occurred in the same way without the Gospel of John. John’s unique portrayal of the Last Supper (with the foot-washing in John 13 instead of the bread and cup narrative) also indirectly influenced theology: since John has no explicit institution of Eucharist, later theologians harmonized John with the Synoptics by reading John 6 as Jesus’ true teaching on the Eucharist. In effect, John reinterpreted the Eucharist for the Church: taking it from a Passover-context memorial of deliverance to an almost mystery-cult-like ingestion of divinity.
It must be stressed that transformation was a departure from the apostolic norm. The Gospel of John appealed to later Christians as a Spiritual Gospel, but it also opened the door to the loss of the original memorial focus. John 6 became a proof-text for literalism when divorced from its spiritual intent. However, John should not be considered a canonical counterweight to the Synoptic memorial institution. The fourth gospel is better seen as a later reflection overzealously interpreted by the post-apostolic Church, steering communion toward metaphysical mysticism that the Apostles did not mandate (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com).
Communion As a Control Mechanism of the Majority Cult
Orthodox Christianity’s sacramental theology, particularly its doctrine of communion, has historically functioned as an effective tool for institutional self-preservation and recruitment, bearing certain characteristics reminiscent of cultlike control mechanisms. By teaching that regular participation in communion is not merely beneficial but necessary for one’s salvation, Orthodoxy creates an implicit dependence of the believer on its institutional structures. Moreover, the Orthodox/Catholic Church explicitly claims exclusivity regarding valid communion, emphasizing that the Eucharist can only be legitimately received within its canonical boundaries under its ordained clergy. This exclusivist stance directly ties an individual’s eternal well-being to their loyalty and consistent participation within the Orthodox ecclesial community, inherently discouraging dissent and reinforcing conformity.
In this framework, sacraments like communion operate beyond simple spiritual nourishment or remembrance; they effectively become instruments of institutional power, fostering a dynamic where believers perceive departure or exclusion from the church as tantamount to spiritual and eternal loss. Such dogmatic emphasis on exclusive communion correlates remarkably well with the patterns observed in cultic groups, where maintaining strict boundaries and rituals serves the broader aim of propagating the organization itself and retaining its adherents. Thus, the Orthodox Church’s insistence on exclusive sacramental legitimacy not only underscores its theological distinctiveness but also strategically reinforces its ecclesiastical control and member retention, a dynamic characteristic of groups that prioritize institutional continuity and authoritative dominance.
The Question of Ignatius: Genuine Witness or Forged Theology?
One of the earliest post-New Testament writers invoked in Eucharistic debates is Ignatius of Antioch, a bishop who was claimed to have written several letters on his way to martyrdom (c. 107 AD). Ignatius is famously quoted for his robust Eucharistic language – particularly the line in his letter to the Smyrnaeans describing certain heretics: “They abstain from the Eucharist…because they do not confess the Eucharist to be the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ” (CHURCH FATHERS: Epistle to the Smyrnaeans (St. Ignatius)). To Catholics and Orthodox, this sounds like a clear early affirmation that the Eucharist is (literally) Christ’s flesh. However, the authenticity of Ignatius’s letters (and that specific passage) is highly disputed. It turns out we have multiple versions of Ignatius’s letters: a Long Recension (expanded Greek texts with 13 letters), a Middle Recension (7 shorter Greek letters, traditionally considered genuine), and a Short Recension (3 very short letters preserved in Syriac). Scholarship from the 17th–19th centuries already recognized that the Long Recension was full of interpolations – obvious expansions that occurred in later centuries. The patristics scholar William Lardner noted, it is a “difficult question” whether even the shorter letters are completely authentic or contain later insertions (Ignatius and Forgery | OrthodoxCorruption.com).
The Syriac letters (Short Recension), discovered in the 19th century, added more intrigue. These Syriac versions of Ignatius contain only three letters (to Polycarp, to the Ephesians, and to the Romans), and they are much more concise, lacking most of the elaborate theological statements found in the Greek versions. Notably, they omit many of the very passages that are most often cited to support later doctrine – such as the detailed appeals to obey the bishop at all costs and references to the Eucharist as Christ’s flesh. As one analysis observes, the Syriac letters “lack a lot of the proto-orthodox credal statements and appeals to episcopacy…which have made the letters so compelling to many (and doubtful to others) over the centuries” (Comments on the Syriac Version of Ignatius’ Epistles – Orthodox Christian Theology).
In the Greek letters, Ignatius almost can’t stop harping on unity under the bishop and almost seems to coin the phrase “Catholic Church” (CHURCH FATHERS: Epistle to the Smyrnaeans (St. Ignatius)) – points that align with 2nd or 3rd century church structure more than the apostolic age. The Syriac letters, by contrast, read naturally and don’t repeat these suspiciously uniform slogans (Comments on the Syriac Version of Ignatius’ Epistles – Orthodox Christian Theology). This suggests that the longer versions may have been padded by a later hand to bolster emerging institutional and sacramental ideas.
Why is this important for the Eucharist? Because if the famous Eucharistic assertions in Ignatius are later interpolations (or if the entire letters were written in the mid-2nd century instead of by Ignatius in 107), then they do not provide reliable evidence that the apostolic church believed in a metaphysical Real Presence. In fact, some scholars believe all the Ignatian letters are spurious, composed around or after A.D. 250 to support developments like the monepiscopal hierarchy and sacramental views (The Ignatian Forgeries: They claim to be written by Ignatius in 110 AD, but were forged by another in about 250 AD that deceptively claimed to be Ignatius.)
Even if one does not go that far, the safest conclusion is that Ignatius’s genuine view is uncertain. The shorter, likely authentic texts do not contain a clear statement equating the Eucharist with Christ’s literal flesh. The problematic quotation about “not confessing the Eucharist to be the flesh of Christ” appears only in the versions suspected of being interpolated (Ignatius and Forgery | OrthodoxCorruption.com). If we bracket that contested line, Ignatius still sees the Eucharist as extremely important for unity – calling it “one Eucharist, one flesh of our Lord, one cup of His blood; one altar as there is one bishop” (Ign. Philadelphians 4) (Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia) – but this can be understood as a symbol of church unity and a safeguard against heresy, not necessarily a doctrinal definition of how Christ is present.
Ignatius’s Letters – Textual Issues and Interpretations
Feature | Long Recension (Greek) | Middle Recension (Greek) | Short Recension (Syriac) |
Letters Included | 13+ | 7 | 3 (Shorter Forms) |
Scholarly View on Authenticity | Universally seen as Forgery | Generally Accepted as Basis, but Debated / Possible Interpolations | Minority View: Potentially Closer to Original / Less Interpolated |
Key Eucharistic Phrases Present? | Yes (Often Expanded) | Yes (e.g., “Medicine of Immortality,” “Flesh of Christ”) | Some Key Phrases Absent or Different |
Plausible Interpretations (Symbolic/Non-Metaphysical View) | Irrelevant (Forgery) | Interpolation? Metaphorical? Anti-Docetic Polemic? | Reflects Simpler / Less Developed Theology? Aramaic Nuance? |
Reliability for Early 2nd C. View | None | Contested / Requires Careful Interpretation | Potentially Higher (if closer to original), but Less Explicit |
In summary, the Ignatian evidence for a literalist communion doctrine is shaky. The shorter (Syriac) Ignatius gives no support to later transubstantiational ideas – it lacks any claim that “the Eucharist is Jesus’ flesh.” The longer Ignatius, which does contain such claims, is likely a later forgery or interpolation (Ignatius and Forgery | OrthodoxCorruption.com). Therefore, Ignatius cannot be confidently claimed as clear evidence for an early, established metaphysical view of the Eucharist originating in the apostolic era. The uncertainty surrounding these texts reinforces that we must look primarily at the core of Apostolic Christianity as documented in Luke–Acts and Paul’s letters (and possibly the Didache), which depict a symbolic memorial meal. By recognizing John as a more symbolic, philosophical narrative (as even Origen did) we can avoid projecting its esoteric imagery back onto the simple practice instituted by Jesus.
The Symbolic Interpretation of Communion in Early Patristic Writings
Beyond the New Testament, early Church Fathers predominantly spoke of the Lord’s Supper in symbolic or spiritual terms, especially when writing before the 4th century. It is a misconception that all early writers uniformly taught a literal Real Presence. In fact, several key figures explicitly describe the bread and wine as figures, symbols, or types of Christ’s body and blood – sacred, to be sure, but not a carnal meal. Let us survey a few of these voices:
- Clement of Alexandria (c. 190 AD): A theologian well-versed in philosophy, Clement was clear that the language of eating Christ’s flesh and drinking His blood is figurative. Commenting on John 6, Clement wrote: “Elsewhere the Lord, in the Gospel according to John, brought this out by symbols, when He said: ‘Eat my flesh, and drink my blood,’ describing distinctly by metaphor the drinkable properties of faith and the promise” (Did Clement Believe in the Real Presence? | Catholic Answers Q&A). Here Clement explicitly calls Jesus’ words symbols and metaphors – the nourishment Christ gives is understood as faith and the promises of God, not literal meat and blood. This Alexandrian father certainly believed Christ nourishes us, but in Clement’s view it is through spiritual means: teaching, faith, and the Holy Spirit. He even refers to the wine and bread of the Eucharist as “the symbols of the blood and the flesh” elsewhere, making it clear that while he deeply reverenced the sacrament, he did not confuse the symbol with the literal substance. (Some have pointed out that Clement also speaks of the Eucharist as having a real benefit for “redeeming and saving” us, but this is perfectly compatible with a spiritual presence or benefit, not necessarily a change in the elements.) What is indisputable is that Clement interprets John 6 as allegory – “eat My flesh” means come to Christ in faith, “drink My blood” means receive His life, as symbols for believing in Him (Clement of Alexandria – Wikipedia).
- Origen (c. 250 AD): Origen, another Alexandrian, is known for his allegorical approach to Scripture. On the Eucharist, he likewise emphasizes the spiritual reality over the physical element. In Against Celsus 8.57, Origen writes: “We have a symbol of gratitude to God in the bread which we call the Eucharist.” (CHURCH FATHERS: Contra Celsum, Book VIII (Origen)). He calls the Eucharistic bread a symbol of thanksgiving (eucharistia literally means thanksgiving). In his homilies, Origen warns against a simplistic, fleshly understanding of eating Christ’s flesh. He comments that the true food of the Christian is the Word of God and the true drink is the Holy Spirit. Origen knew that pagan critics misunderstood Christian rites as cannibalism, and he took pains to clarify that Christ is not literally munched with the teeth. For Origen, the Eucharist sanctifies through the prayers and the Word of God it embodies, becoming spiritual nourishment for the soul. But materially, he does not describe it as anything other than bread and wine. In fact, Origen once analogized that just as in baptism the external element of water cleanses the body while the Holy Spirit cleanses the soul, so in communion the external bread feeds the body symbolically while the Word of God (Christ’s truth) feeds the soul. Such an understanding accords perfectly with a symbolic/memorial view.
- Eusebius of Caesarea (c. 260–340 AD) is the last prominent early Church Father generally considered to have maintained a strictly memorialist view of communion—emphasizing symbolic remembrance rather than any real or mystical presence. Eusebius explicitly refers to the Eucharistic elements as symbols or memorials of Christ’s body and blood, describing the bread and wine as commemorative images intended to recall the sacrifice of Jesus. For example, in his Demonstratio Evangelica (Book 1, Chapter 10), he emphasizes the symbolic and memorial aspects of the rite. After Eusebius, the theological language increasingly shifted toward articulating a more mystical or sacramental understanding, notably through figures such as Cyril of Jerusalem and Ambrose of Milan. Thus, Eusebius is typically seen as marking a transitional point, after which explicit memorialism fades significantly within mainstream patristic theology.
- Augustine (early 5th century), often quoted on both sides, frequently stressed the symbolic nature of sacraments. Augustine famously said, “If you want to understand ‘Eat my flesh,’ listen to the Apostle: ‘…that Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith.’ Therefore, eat spiritually the flesh of Christ, and drink His blood, not in the sacramental sense, but in the sense of participation in the Spirit.” He also exhorted communicants that the bread and wine are “visible symbols of an invisible reality” – the Church itself is called the Body of Christ, and in communion “we receive our mystery” (we receive a sign of what we are).
These examples show that the symbolic and literal understandings persisted together through the patristic era.
The Influence of Hellenistic Mystery Religions and Greek Philosophy
How did the straightforward symbolic practices of the apostolic church evolve into the elaborate sacramental theology of later centuries? A significant part of the answer lies in the interaction between Christianity and the surrounding Greco-Roman culture, especially the phenomenon of mystery religions and the pervasive influence of Greek philosophical thought. As Christianity spread in the Gentile world, it encountered religious customs that, superficially at least, resembled its own rites: washings, sacred meals, initiations promising eternal life, etc. Meanwhile, Greek philosophy provided an intellectual framework that Christians eventually used to articulate doctrine – for better or worse. The gradual blending (or clash) of these elements with the Christian message led to an increasing “mystification” of Christian rites.
The Hellenistic world was replete with various mystery cults – such as those devoted to Eleusis (Demeter and Persephone), Dionysus, Isis and Osiris, Cybele, and Mithras. While diverse, these cults often shared common features: secret initiation rites, promises of salvation or immortality, and sacred meals or ritual consumptions intended to unite the initiate with the deity or allow them to partake of the divine nature. Participants often believed they could achieve communion with their god or goddess, receive divine power, or ensure a blessed afterlife through these rituals.
Specific parallels with developing Christian Eucharistic practice are notable:
- Sacred Meals: Many cults involved communal meals where consecrated food or drink was consumed. For example, the rites of Mithras, a religion popular among Roman soldiers and contemporary with early Christianity, included a sacred meal of bread and water or wine. Early Christian writers like Justin Martyr were aware of this similarity, famously dismissing the Mithraic meal as a demonic imitation of the Eucharist.
- Consuming the Divine / Divine Substance: Some scholars suggest that certain pagan rituals involved the idea of theophagy (literally “eating the god”) or consuming substances believed to be imbued with divine power or essence, thereby granting the participant divine qualities or union with the deity.
Historian Barry Powell and others have noted that in some of these cults, celebrants “shared a communal meal in which they symbolically ate the flesh and drank the blood of their god.” (Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia). For instance, in the cult of Dionysus – the god of wine who died and rose – devotees would drink wine as part of their rites, symbolizing the god’s blood (since Dionysus was mythically identified with the vine). In the Mithraic mysteries (popular among Roman soldiers in the 2nd and 3rd centuries), initiates partook of a meal of bread and water (or wine) which, according to Christian apologist Justin Martyr, “the wicked demons…imitated” from the Christian Eucharist ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ).
In this context, the ambiguous or challenging language found in certain texts could be readily assimilated into a sacramental framework. The potent imagery of “eating flesh” and “drinking blood” in John 6, even if originally intended metaphorically (as suggested by John 6:63), could easily be understood literally by those predisposed to think in terms of consuming divine substances for spiritual power. Similarly, Ignatius’s description of the Eucharist as the “medicine of immortality” resonates strongly with the promises of salvation offered by mystery cults through their rituals.
As noted previously, Justin, around 150 AD, noted with some alarm (or vindication) that Mithraic rituals included a bread-and-cup ceremony: “Which the wicked devils have imitated in the mysteries of Mithras, commanding the same thing to be done. For bread and a cup of water are set out with certain incantations in the mystic rites of Mithras” ( Cyril C. Richardson: Early Christian Fathers – Christian Classics Ethereal Library ).
Whether one believes, as Justin did, that Satan copied Christian rites to deceive people, or conversely that Christians absorbed existing religious motifs, the parallels are undeniable. The Hellenistic world was full of the concept of sacred meals that joined the worshiper with a deity. In the mysteries of Attis and Cybele, participants ate from a communal meal after a bull sacrifice (the taurobolium). In Egypt, myths told of Isis giving Osiris’s dismembered body back to him – a mythic reflection on consuming divinity. Anthropologically, many cultures had “token” or “totem” sacrifices wherein a tribe would periodically eat the flesh of a sacred animal or person to ingest the god’s life-force (as Sir James Frazer and later scholars observed (Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia). While the Eucharist is rooted in the Jewish Passover meal (a context of sacrificial symbolism and thanksgiving), as the gospel spread to Gentiles, it encountered people steeped in these mystery cult expectations. It is quite plausible that converts from paganism naturally understood the Eucharist in light of mystery rituals – expecting some mystical change or divine presence in the elements. Over time, as fewer Christians had direct ties to the Jewish context of the Last Supper and more came from Greco-Roman backgrounds, the interpretation of the Eucharist likely shifted in emphasis: from Hebrew “zekher” (memorial remembrance) to Greek “μυστήριον” (mystery to be venerated).
Indeed, by the 4th century we see Christian writers freely employing mystery religion language. They speak of “initiates” and “mystagogy” regarding the sacraments. The bread and wine are termed “anti-types” that “transmute” into divine reality (Transubstantiation – Wikipedia) This conceptual framework is not derived from Scripture but mirrors the language of pagan initiatory cults (though Christians gave it new meaning). It is telling that the word “sacrament” (Latin sacramentum) was used in the early Church as the equivalent of the Greek mysterion. Thus, Baptism and Eucharist were literally called “the mysteries.”
This shows how thoroughly Hellenized the Church’s perspective became. The simple remembrance meal now bore the aura of secret rites conferring spiritual powers. As early as the late 2nd century, Irenaeus could refer to the Eucharist in terms of an offering to God and something that produces physical sanctification of our bodies (Did the Early Church Teach Transubstantiation?) – concepts that resonate with sacrificial cults. By the time of Constantine, when Christianity became the dominant religion, educated converts (formerly familiar with Neoplatonism and mystery cults) had no trouble believing that bread and wine could be miraculously transformed into divine flesh and blood.
The rise of Neoplatonism (with its idea of the One, the nous, the world-soul, and the descent of divine reality into material shadows) provided an intellectual schema in which a divine essence could underlie material elements. This was congenial to speaking of an “invisible reality” under the appearances of bread and wine. By the time of Ambrose of Milan (4th cent.), we hear open admission that the course of nature is altered by the word of Christ in the liturgy – just as Christ was born of a virgin contrary to nature, so the bread becomes the body contrary to nature (Transubstantiation – Wikipedia). Such an argument would have sounded perfectly normal to a former pagan used to miracle-working hierophants and enchanted meals.
Historically, it’s evident that many later Christians read their Eucharist through a mystery-cult lens. The growing elaborate ritualism of the liturgy (with incense, altars, and priests) paralleled the fading of the charismatic, Spirit-led worship of the earlier church. As the Church became more structured (and as the spontaneous gifts of the Spirit were less in evidence or even suppressed), the hunger for tangible mystery was fed by making the sacraments themselves into supernatural encounters. Pagan converts who missed the old ceremonies found in the Eucharist a new and more profound “mystery” – one that promised actual union with God by consumption.
The result was a sacramental theology increasingly foreign to primitive Christianity. Instead of believers seeing themselves as a “royal priesthood” breaking bread together in homes as a memorial, they came to see the Eucharist as an altar sacrifice performed by an ordained priest, effecting the mystical transmutation of bread and wine. This bears more resemblance to an ancient temple or mystery ritual than to the New Testament breaking of bread.
The later metaphysical view of communion, then, can be partly understood as an amalgam: Johannine theology (misinterpreted literally) combined with the heritage of Hellenistic mystery religion and a dose of Greek philosophical reasoning. This “perfect storm” led to what we argue is a corruption of the original Apostolic practice. The original was simple, spiritually profound yet not elaborate; the new version was awe-inspiring, yes, but also prone to superstition and priestly control – something early Christian leaders like Paul would not have recognized as heretical.
The Holy Spirit Is Our True Nourishment
If the bread and wine of communion were not considered channels of mystical power by the apostles, what then was the source of spiritual power in earliest Christianity? The clear answer is the Holy Spirit – the gift of God given to believers. The New Testament depicts the Holy Spirit as the fulfilment of Jesus’ promise to empower the church: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses…” (Acts 1:8). Here, power is directly linked with the coming of the Holy Spirit. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus frames the Holy Spirit as “the promise of my Father” (Luke 24:49) and “power from on high” – again equating the Spirit with God’s power.
Early Christians experienced the Spirit tangibly: prophetic speech, miracles, boldness in preaching, and deepened love and unity were all effects of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:4, Acts 4:31, Rom. 5:5). The New Testament emphasizes the Spirit as the fulfillment of God’s grace (wind, fire, gift, outpouring) similar to how “God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power”– a parallelism that identifies the Spirit with the empowering force of God. Likewise, Peter says that the Spirit was something God “gives” or “pours out” (Acts 5:32, Acts 2:17).
Why is this emphasis on the Holy Spirit important in our discussion of communion and baptism? Because it highlights that the “metaphysical” means of partaking in the supernatural in apostolic Christianity was the Holy Spirit, not the ritual elements themselves. The early believers did not attribute regenerative or transfigurative powers to water baptism or to bread and wine; the power was in God’s response to faith (sending the Spirit, forgiving sins) rather than in the ceremonies as such. Baptism was commanded by Jesus and practiced by the apostles as an essential step of obedience – a symbolic burial and resurrection with Christ (Romans 6:3-4) – but it was understood that forgiveness and regeneration were the work of God through the Holy Spirit, not the water itself. Titus 3:5 speaks of the “washing of regeneration and renewal of the Holy Spirit,” indicating it is the Spirit that regenerates at baptism, not the physical act alone. Similarly, in the Lord’s Supper, any spiritual nourishment or communion with Christ was mediated by the Holy Spirit through the faith of the participants, not by the bread physically changing. The bread and cup were material symbols; the Holy Spirit makes the remembrance spiritually meaningful.
The later obsession with how the bread and wine might transform or how baptismal water might cause rebirth can be seen as a displacement of focus – a shift from God’s direct action by His Spirit to a quasi-magical view of ceremonies. Thus, any attempt to make communion or baptism into something inherently mystical or necessary for salvation in itself (rather than as expressions of faith) runs contrary to the earliest Christian understanding. The Holy Spirit, not bread or water, was the means of sanctification and divine life.
Crucial to the Apostolic faith was the belief that Jesus’s promise was fulfilled not through bread and wine, but through the Holy Spirit. In the narrative of Acts and the epistles, the Holy Spirit is the operative divine agent in the Church: empowering preaching, bestowing spiritual gifts, guiding decisions, sanctifying hearts. When we speak of “metaphysical” reality in Apostolic Christianity, it primarily refers to this indwelling of the Spirit and the attendant miracles and graces.
Consider again the case of baptism in the New Testament: water baptism is a symbolic burial and resurrection with Christ (Romans 6:3-5), and it is explicitly paired with receiving the Holy Spirit. In Samaria, converts were baptized in water but only when apostles laid hands on them did they receive the Spirit (Acts 8:14-17), showing that the true spiritual baptism is of the Spirit, beyond the mere water ritual. Likewise, at Cornelius’s house, the Holy Spirit fell on Gentile believers before they were even baptized in water (Acts 10:44-48) – demonstrating that God’s metaphysical work (heart regeneration by the Spirit) is not bound to the ritual itself. The water baptism followed as an outward sign. The early Church thus distinguished between the outward sign and the inward grace. The outward (water, bread, wine) were tangible symbols; the inward (the Holy Spirit’s action) was the real divine intervention.
In terms of the Lord’s Supper, the Apostle Paul teaches that believers, by partaking of the one bread, “are one body” (1 Cor. 10:17), and he calls the cup and bread a “communion (participation) in the blood… and body of Christ” (1 Cor. 10:16). How is this participation effected? By the Holy Spirit uniting us to Christ. In 1 Corinthians 12:13, Paul explains, “For by one Spirit we were all baptized into one body…and were all made to drink of one Spirit.” Here is a telling use of drinking language: Christians drink of the Spirit. This suggests that the true spiritual drink that gives life is the Holy Spirit, which is poured out. In that sense, the communion cup is a symbol of the Spirit’s lifegiving power, just as it is a reminder of Christ’s blood. It is the Spirit that actually applies the benefits of Christ’s sacrifice to us – connecting us to Christ’s body and blood in a metaphysical way (the Spirit is sometimes called the bond of union between believers and Christ). Therefore, the early Christians saw the Eucharist as spiritually powerful because the Holy Spirit is present on occasions of blessing and unity, not because of any power inherent in the elements. The “real presence” they cherished was the presence of the Spirit in their fellowship.
When controversies about the Eucharist’s nature arose in later centuries, some churchmen actually invoked this principle. They argued that Christ’s presence in the Supper is spiritual – by the power of the Spirit – not a fleshy, earthly presence. For instance, in the 4th century, Athanasius wrote that Jesus “is eaten and drunk” not in a physical manner, “God forbid!”, but in a spiritual sense by the unity of the Spirit. The Holy Spirit was understood as the unique gift of the New Covenant that truly transforms individuals from within (2 Cor. 3:6, “the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life”). No ritual, in and of itself, could effect that inner transformation without the Spirit. The early Christians knew this. Their gatherings were characterized by prayer, sharing, Scripture reading, prophetic exhortation – all activities that rely on the Spirit’s guidance (1 Cor. 14, Didache 10.7 encourages prophets to give thanks as long as they wish). The metaphysical heart of their faith was God’s Spirit moving among them.
It follows that Apostolic Christianity located supernatural power in the Holy Spirit, not in objects or substances. The bread and cup were precious symbols, yes, but not magical conduits. The idea that a priest’s consecration could automatically change the elements (even if the recipients were unbelieving or absent) would have been foreign to the apostolic church. Instead, the efficacy of communion was understood relationally and spiritually: “The cup of blessing which we bless…” – it is effective as a blessing when received in faith and unity. The warnings about partaking unworthily (1 Cor. 11:27) make sense in a symbolic view: the unworthy receive judgment not because they mishandled a holy object, but because they disrespect the sacred meaning.
In practice, the early church’s focus was on believers being filled with the Spirit and then carrying out the Lord’s commands (like baptism and communion) as expressions of their faith. Jesus and his Apostles instituted only a few ordinances: primarily baptism and the Lord’s Supper. None of these were described as providing salvation – rather, they were normative responses of obedience and worship. By contrast, receiving the Holy Spirit was absolutely essential: “If anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to Him” (Romans 8:9). Thus, receiving the Spirit (usually coincident with genuine conversion) was the one true metaphysical initiation into Christ. All else flows from that Spirit-baptism. The Lord’s Supper, then, is the Spirit-filled community’s memorial celebration.
Therefore, any view that shifts the locus of divine action from the Spirit in the believer to the elements on the table is a deviation from the apostolic paradigm. Later concepts effectively dethrone the Holy Spirit as the immediate means of grace and instead enthrone the sacerdotal system. The Apostles would point us back to the Spirit. “Walk in the Spirit,” Paul urges (Gal 5:16); “Do not grieve the Spirit” (Eph 4:30); “Stir up the gift of God” (2 Tim 1:6). The emphasis is ever on an active, dynamic relationship with God’s Spirit. By that relationship, communion finds its true power – it becomes a “spiritual feast” of joy and unity.
Conclusion: Returning to Apostolic Simplicity
Surveying the evidence, we find a compelling case that the elaborate Orthodox and Roman Catholic doctrines of the Eucharist are developments and deviations from the original apostolic practice. The Lord Jesus intended the communion meal as a memorial – a sacred symbol to recall His once-for-all sacrifice, a proclamation of the New Covenant, and a fellowship meal uniting believers in love. The Gospel of Luke, bolstered by Paul’s testimony, preserves this truth most clearly: “Do this in remembrance of Me.” Nowhere in Luke’s account or in Paul’s instructions do we see a teaching that the bread and wine metaphysically become the physical body and blood of Christ. Such an idea would have been alien to the Apostles’ basically Jewish understanding of a memorial (zikaron) and to their focus on the Holy Spirit’s indwelling presence.
It was through the influence of the Gospel of John’s later theological reflection, with its symbolic yet easily mis-read imagery, that a door was opened for seeing the Eucharist as more than a memorial. John’s richly spiritual metaphor of eating Christ’s flesh and drinking His blood was tragically interpreted by some in an overly literal way, against John’s own context (John 6:63) and certainly against the Synoptic institution narratives. The post-apostolic church, living in a Greek world of mystery cults and philosophical mysticism, increasingly gravitated toward a mystical-sacramental interpretation. Church leaders facing Gnostic denials of the Incarnation found it useful to stress the reality of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist – but in doing so, they ventured beyond the original apostolic faith, speaking in terms that eventually solidified into the doctrines of the Real Presence.
We have shown how key early witnesses like Ignatius are unreliable due to forgery or interpolation when it comes to supporting these later views. We have also highlighted how numerous early fathers actually describe communion in symbolic terms – a fact often obscured in popular accounts. The likes of Clement, Tertullian, Origen, and others kept alive the understanding of the Eucharist as a symbol that conveys spiritual reality.
Furthermore, we saw that the pagan environment played a role in the church’s evolving thought. The concept of eating a god (so abhorrent to the first generation of Jewish Christians) became thinkable to Gentile Christians precisely because it echoed long-standing religious motifs around them. Over centuries, what began as a straightforward ordinance of remembrance instituted by the Jewish Messiah was interpreted through Gentile eyes as a mystery miracle. The result was a dramatic shift: from memorial to sacrifice, from communal meal to liturgical altar. By embracing beliefs in quasi-magical rites, later Christianity ironically mirrored the very pagan cults it once sought to supersede. Instead of Christians being known for their love, unity, and the power of the Spirit, they became known for elaborate liturgies, dogma, and metaphysical claims of miracles in bread and wine.
By championing the primacy of Luke’s Gospel and the apostolic writings, we call for a return to the original perspective. When believers, filled with the Holy Spirit, break the bread and share the cup, Christ is truly among them – not physically in the bread, but spiritually in the entire act and in the hearts of the faithful. A symbolic view does not at all rob communion of meaning or power. On the contrary, it locates its power in the right place: in faith and the Holy Spirit. It prevents the superstition of treating the elements themselves as objects of worship (something the apostles would recoil from, as idolatry).
In conclusion, the weight of scriptural and historical evidence supports that the Orthodox and Roman Catholic traditions, in making communion a metaphysical consumption of Christ, have obscured the original intent of the ordinance. This original intent, as handed down by the Apostles, was purely symbolic and commemorative: “Take, eat, this is My body” – i.e., this represents My body given for you; “Take, drink, this is My blood” – the symbol of the New Covenant in My blood. The power of the Eucharist lies in the Holy Spirit bringing the reality of Christ’s sacrifice to our remembrance and hearts as we obey Jesus’ command. Ultimately, the sole “metaphysical” act necessary for union with God is the new birth by the Holy Spirit. Having received that Spirit through faith, we partake of communion as a joyful, reverent act of remembrance, with hearts full of faith and hope.
By stripping away later accretions and returning to Apostolic basics, we safeguard both the integrity of Christian worship and the centrality of the gospel. The communion table becomes, as it was meant to be, a humble yet profound place where believers meet, in the Holy Spirit, to remember their Lord’s death and proclaim it until He comes – nothing more, and certainly nothing less.
As we conclude, it is important to clarify that recognizing communion and baptism as symbolic does not make them “mere” or trivial symbols. Symbols in biblical thought carry the weight of the reality they signify. When performed in faith and accompanied by the presence of the Holy Spirit, these acts are profound and spiritually nourishing. These symbols remind and represent to our minds and hearts the foundational truths of the gospel: Christ’s body broken for us, his blood shed for our forgiveness, our old self buried and new self raised with him. The power of Christianity is a transformed life, not a mystic ritual.
In light of Scripture and history, we affirm that Communion and baptism were given as symbolic acts of remembrance, identification, and fellowship. They are outward signs of inward grace and commitment, not automatic conveyors of grace regardless of personal faith. The later metaphysical interpretations – however well-intentioned – amount to a corruption and obfuscation of the gospel’s simplicity. The Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic churches have long departed from primitive Christianity.
References:
- The Holy Bible (NKJV/ESV): Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:23-29; Acts 2:42; John 6:53-63; 1 Corinthians 10:16-17; 1 Corinthians 12:13; etc. (for context of statements on communion and the Holy Spirit).
- Dunn, James D.G., Jesus Remembered, Christianity in the Making, Vol. 1 (2003), pp. 165–167, on John’s Gospel as a secondary, developed source (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com).
- Dunn, James D.G., Neither Jew nor Greek, Christianity in the Making, Vol. 3 (2015), pp. 615–616, on the “I Am” sayings as the Evangelist’s style, not Jesus’ original words (John vs the Synoptics | LukePrimacy.com).
- C. H. Dodd, The Authority of the Bible – affirming the priority of the Synoptic tradition for historical facts over John (Issues with the Gospel of John).
- Justin Martyr, First Apology, ch. 65-67 – describing Christian worship and the Eucharist as a memorial of Christ’s passion, and noting pagan parallels in Mithraic rites (Logos Virtual Library: Saint Justin Martyr: First Apology, 66)
- Epiphanius of Salamis, Panarion 51, on the Alogi rejecting John’s Gospel and Apocalypse as spurious (4th cent.) (Early Opposition to John’s Gospel and Revelation? A New Series on the Alogi « The Jesus Memoirs).
- Didache (Teaching of the Twelve Apostles), ch. 9–10 (c. 50-100 AD), giving thanks for the “broken bread” as symbolic of unity and “spiritual food and drink” through Christ (Didache. The Teaching of the Twelve Apostles (translation Charles H. Hoole).)
- Ignatius of Antioch, Letter to the Smyrnaeans (long Greek recension), 6:2–7:1, declaring the Eucharist “the flesh of our Savior” and tying its validity to the bishop (CHURCH FATHERS: Epistle to the Smyrnaeans (St. Ignatius)) (CHURCH FATHERS: Epistle to the Smyrnaeans (St. Ignatius)) (passages absent in the shorter Syriac recension (Comments on the Syriac Version of Ignatius’ Epistles – Orthodox Christian Theology)).
- The Apostolic Fathers, ed. J.B. Lightfoot and J.R. Harmer, notes on Ignatius’ letter authenticity (widely suspected interpolations in the longer versions) (Ignatius and Forgery | OrthodoxCorruption.com)
- Clement of Alexandria, Paedagogus (The Instructor), Book 1, ch.6, explaining John 6:53 symbolically: “by symbols…‘eat my flesh, drink my blood’…by metaphor describing the properties of faith…” (Did Clement Believe in the Real Presence? | Catholic Answers Q&A).
- Tertullian, Against Marcion, Book 4, ch. 40, “He made it [bread] His body, saying ‘This is my body,’ i.e. the figure of my body” (Transubstantiation – Wikipedia).
- Origen, Contra Celsum, Book 8, ch. 57, “We have a symbol of gratitude to God in the bread which we call the Eucharist.” (CHURCH FATHERS: Contra Celsum, Book VIII (Origen)).
- Cyprian of Carthage, Epistle 62 (c. 250 AD), “the water represents the people, the wine shows forth the blood of Christ” in the Eucharistic cup (Epistle 62 (Cyprian of Carthage) – CHURCH FATHERS – New Advent).
- Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia (accessed 2025), section on Mystery cults: “in some secret religions celebrants shared a communal meal symbolically eating flesh and blood of their god” (Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia); Dionysus influence: “Christian notions of eating/drinking Jesus’ flesh and blood were influenced by the cult of Dionysus” (Origin of the Eucharist – Wikipedia).
- IssuesWithJohn.com – evidence of John’s late acceptance and contested status in the early church, e.g. the Alogians rejecting John (Issues with the Gospel of John) and Origen’s acknowledgment of its largely symbolic nature (Issues with the Gospel of John).
- LukePrimacy.com – highlighting Luke’s reliability and Paul’s endorsement of Luke (The basis for Luke Primacy), as well as scholarly commentary on John’s philosophical influences (John and Philosophy | LukePrimacy.com) .
- F. E. Ogunya, “Mystery Religions and their Influence on the New Testament and Early Christianity” (2022) – discusses how practices like baptism and sacred meals in the New Testament era were viewed in light of mystery cult practices.
- Christian Classics (e.g., Cyril Richardson’s Early Christian Fathers) – providing context on the Didache and early views on the sacraments (e.g., Ignatius, Tertullian, Augustine).
- Church council documents and catechisms for later doctrines (Lateran IV, Council of Trent) – to contrast with early teachings.
- J. N. D. Kelly – Early Christian Doctrines (5th ed., 1978): A standard scholarly survey of the first five centuries of Christian teaching. Contains thorough discussions of the Eucharist and baptism in the early Church, documenting the evolution of doctrine with extensive patristic quotations.
- Jaroslav Pelikan – The Christian Tradition, Vol. 1: The Emergence of the Catholic Tradition (100–600) (1971): A history of Christian doctrine by a renowned historian. Includes analysis of how sacramental theology (especially the Eucharist) developed from the apostolic age through the 6th century.
- Paul F. Bradshaw & Maxwell E. Johnson – The Eucharistic Liturgies: Their Evolution and Interpretation (2012): A scholarly overview of the historical development of the Christian Eucharist liturgy from the Last Supper through the patristic era and Middle Ages. Offers insight into how practices and understandings changed over time, with reference to primary sources.
