Chapter II: Part 2

Finally, I assert, there was no sacrifice at the last supper; for if the sacrifice at the last supper were the same propitiatory sacrifice as that offered on the cross, I ask, in the language of candor and religion, what was the utility of our Saviour going through the bitter ordeal of his passion—why undergo the painful ceremony of being treacherously betrayed with the signal of peace by one of his disciples—denied by another, and abandoned by all in the hours of his affliction? Why allow himself to be dragged like a common malefactor from place to place—then to be clothed in the garb of pretended loyalty, and afterwards to be greeted with all the insulting gratulations of a mock king? Why remain tied to a pillar, there to be most cruelly scourged afterwards to be crowned with a diadem of thorns? Why undergo the pangs, the torments, the excruciating agonies on the gibbet of a cross, and then seal with his blood the cause of man’s redemption? Why all these, if the sacrifice at the last supper were the same propitiatory sacrifice for the remission of sins as the sacrifice on the cross? Oh, my friends, it has been, and is my firm conviction, that if the sacrifice at the last supper were the same as the sacrifice on the cross, it could not be blasphemous to assert that the sacrifice of the cross was nugatory—was an act perfectly useless—was inconsistent with and unbecoming the attributes of the Deity; and, therefore, I conclude there was no sacrifice at the last supper, and consequently no sacrifice at the mass, since, as I mentioned before, the supposed sacrifice at the last supper and that of the mass are the same in your opinion.

I know that Roman Catholics assert, that there is nothing hard or impossible to God, and that, therefore, our Saviour could give his body and his blood to his Apostles at the last supper.

Now, my friends, this assertion is perfectly incorrect; for there are many things relatively impossible to God; when I say relatively, I mean with relation to these laws which impose upon the Deity a moral and voluntary restraint, which restraint he cannot transgress in accordance with his divine attributes; and hence it is, that, owing to those laws, God cannot cause a thing to exist and not to exist at the same time; nor can he cause a part of any material body to be greater than the whole substance of that body, that part and entire substance remaining in their self-same, sensible, and evidently unchanged state. But those two unnatural suppositions must be credited, if we are to believe that our Saviour gave his body and his blood to the Apostles at the last supper. First, we should believe that he existed and did not exist at the same time; existed, inasmuch as he gave himself to the Apostles, and did not exist, inasmuch as the Apostles consumed his body by eating it, and all this while he was sitting and conversing with them. Therefore to suppose, that our Saviour gave his body and his blood to the Apostles at the last supper to be eaten by them would be to suppose, that he existed and did not exist at the same time, which is absurd, and relatively impossible on the part of God.

Secondly, should we suppose that our Saviour gave his body and blood to his Apostles at the last supper, it would then follow that a part of his body was greater than the entire of his body.

In order to shew this, I will not advert to those who would say, that our Saviour had actually partaken of the bread which he had distributed among the Apostles, and consequently made his mouth, which was only a part of his body, to consume his entire body. I will not dwell upon such an assertion, but will come to one no less evident; and that is, if our Saviour gave his body to be eaten by his Apostles at the last supper, it would then follow that he grasped his entire body within the narrow compass of his hand, and thus make his hand, which was only a part, greater than his entire body, as the container must naturally be greater than the contained; and all this to be done while that hand and body remained in the self-same, sensible, and evidently unchanged form. Oh, repugnant words! Oh, irreconcileable doctrine! Oh, monstrous assertion! How can a man slumber under such a belief? How can he rest in the consciousness of such an error? Methinks that should an individual after serious reflection tacitly submit to such an irrational belief, it would be requisite that he should be invested by the Deity with faculties the very reverse, of what he now enjoys; that he should possess a reason that would reconcile truths that are intuitively evident with falsehoods that are intuitively false; and which should unite principles that are eternally true and immutably fixed, with those that imply self-destroying contradictions.

I will give you another argument from the Scriptures, which tended to confirm me in my disbelief as to the doctrine of Transubstantiation. That my remarks upon this subject may be obvious to the capacity of each of you, I refer you now to the 22d chapter of St. Luke, which is explanatory of the institution of the sacrament at the last supper. It is said of our Saviour in the 19th and 20th verses of that chapter, “and he took bread and gave thanks and brake it, and gave unto them, saying, this is my body which is given for you; this do in remembrance of me.” Likewise also the cup after supper, saying, “This cup is the New Testament in my blood which is shed for you” 20th verse. Now you Roman Catholics assert, that the words in the 19th verse ought to be taken in their literal sense, that is to say, that when our Saviour spoke these things, “this is my body,” that he actually converted the bread into his body and gave it to be eaten by his Apostles.

But if I can shew you many passages both in the Old and New Testament, where the word _is_ must be taken in a figurative, sense. I do not see what is to prevent the word _is_ (in the passage alluded to) from being also taken in a figurative sense. But there are many passages in the Old as well as the New Testament, where the word _is_ must be taken to signify represent, or, what is the same, where it must be taken to signify the figure or memorial of a thing.

First, you will find in the 17th chapter of Genesis where God speaking of the circumcision says, in the 10th verse, “This is my covenant.” Now the circumcision was not transubstantiated into the covenant. Therefore the word _is_ in this passage must be taken in a figurative sense: that is, to signify the figure or memorial of the covenant.

Look also to the 12th chapter of Exodus, where God after having spoken of the lamb that was to be sacrificed in memorial of his passing over the houses of the Israelites and his smiting all the first born in the houses of the Egyptians, he says, as is mentioned in the 11th verse, “It is the Lord’s Passover.” Now the word _is_ in this passage must be taken to signify represent, as the lamb could not be said to be transubstantiated into the Passover.

There are also innumerable passages in the New Testament, where the word _is_ must be taken to signify represent. First, St. Paul, speaking of the church, says, “it is the body of Christ.” Here the word _is_ must be taken to signify represent. In the 13th chapter of Matthew, our Saviour says, in the 37th verse—“He that soweth the good seed is the son of man.” Again, in the 38th verse of same chapter he says, “the field is the world;” and in the 39th verse of same chapter he says, “the harvest is the end of the world;” and lastly, in Luke viii. 11, our Saviour says, “the seed is the word of God.” Now, as in all those passages the word _is_ must be taken to signify represent, what is to prevent it being taken in the same sense in Luke xxii. 19, where our Saviour said, “this is my body?”—especially as in the following verse of the same chapter it must be taken for represent, where our Saviour says, “This cup is the New Testament;” for the cup was not transubstantiated into the New Testament, as you must all admit; and therefore it is that I was led to consider that the word _is_, in the 19th verse of the 22d chapter of Luke, should be taken in a figurative sense; especially as in that same verse our Saviour said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” And finally, there is nothing so common in our language as to make use of this word _is_ in the sense of represent. For example, let me suppose that on passing through Sackville-street, in Dublin, and that a stranger on seeing Nelson’s pillar would ask me, who is that?—I, immediately understanding him, would say, that is Nelson: and certainly the word _is_, in those passages, must be taken to signify represent; for which reason, also, I was led to consider that the word _is_, in this passage of our Saviour, must be taken to signify represent, when he said, “This is my body.”

I know, my friends, that in opposition to these passages to which I have alluded, that you would introduce as an objection that passage in the first of the Corinthians, xi. 27, where it is mentioned, “Wherefore, whosoever shall eat this bread and drink this cup of the Lord unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord;” from which words you would wish to prove that the Apostles believed the real body and blood of Christ to be in the sacrament.

But, my friends, let you consider by whom and for what purpose the sacrament was instituted, and then your surprise will not be excited at the Apostle expressing himself in such strong language, although he would not believe that the real body and blood of Christ were present in the sacrament. By whom was it instituted? By Jesus Christ himself. For what purpose? As a last bequest to mankind—as a remembrance of that Jesus who left his throne of eternal justice to enter into the womb of a virgin mother—that Jesus who was conceived and born in time—who, during his mortal pilgrimage of thirty-three years, suffered all the extremities of privation to which human nature could be subject—and who finally placed the eternal seal of his blood upon the cause of man’s redemption. Is it a wonder then, that the Apostle, though not believing the real body and blood of Christ to be present, should have recourse to such strong language against those who would violate the respect due to that sacrament, which was to be a memorial of our Saviour, and which was to shew forth the Lord’s death until he come? Oh, my friends, if you or I were in the same situation as the Apostle, we would recur to a similarity of expression, to announce our horror to the wretch who would approach with polluted heart so sanctified a memorial; for whoever would disrespect such a sacrament, might be naturally said to be guilty of the body and blood of Christ.

My friends, before I close this third part of my intended pamphlet, I find it indispensably requisite to advert to that practice in your church, by which the priests prevent you from receiving the wine in the distribution of what they call their sacrament.

Now, my friends, this I consider not only to be a direct infringement upon the words, but also a direct violation of the command of our Saviour: for if the command of our Saviour, at the institution of the sacrament, were more strict in one part than another, it was surely more urgent with regard to the receiving of the wine; for it is said in Matth. xxvi. 27, that our Saviour after having taken the cup, and having given thanks, he gave it to his Apostles, saying, “Drink ye all of it;” and as it is said in Mark xiv. 23, “They all drank of it.” Now observe that this word _all_ was not annexed to the eating of the bread, but only to the drinking of the wine, which circumstance must prove to the reflecting mind this important fact, that as our Saviour foresaw the abuse that in course of time would be adopted in the Roman church, by withholding the cup from the people, he has been therefore more urgent in his command as to the reception of the wine, than he has been as to the reception of the bread.

I am aware that your clergy have recourse to many stratagems in explanation of this difficulty. They say, that when you receive the bread, you not only receive the body but also the blood of our Saviour, and that therefore it is not requisite for you to receive the wine.

But, my friends, in answer to this I say, that if our Saviour, at his last supper, intended to give to his Apostles, in the mere substance of the bread, both his body and his blood, what was his utility in giving his body and his blood a second time in the wine? To do so would be an act of supererogation—it would be an act of perfect uselessness, and would be derogatory to the Redeemer in the institution of so important a sacrament: and hence I considered that withholding the cup from the people, is a direct infringement upon the words of our Saviour.

But your clergy also assert, that our Saviour, at his last supper, addressed the Apostles as priests, and not as the laity, and that therefore he made it incumbent only on the Apostles to receive the sacrament under both kinds. But, my friends, we read of no such distinction made by our Saviour; and moreover, when he said, “drink ye all of this,” he also added, “for this is my blood shed for many.” Now his blood was not shed for the Apostles alone, but also for the flock; and hence I conclude, that the people should receive the wine as well as the priests.

Again, my friends, if this passage, “drink ye all of this,” were directed to the Apostles alone, why is it that the priests do not always receive under both kinds; for I know that when they are not actually celebrating the mass, they only receive the communion under one kind? This seems a perfect anomaly—especially as our Saviour drew no line of distinction between a priest officiating and a priest communicating.

Finally, my friends, if these words, “drink ye all of this,” were addressed to the Apostles alone as priests, then the people should at no period of time have partaken of the cup. But that the people did partake of the cup is evident from the words of St. Paul in the 1st Corinthians, 11th chapter and 28th verse, where he says, “Let a man examine himself, and so let him eat of that bread and drink of that cup;” which words of the Apostle were addressed to all the Corinthians, and consequently proving to us that the laity as well as the pastors, had partaken of the sacrament under both kinds. Popes Gellasius and Leo ordered the wine to be taken by the people on their receiving the sacrament; {43} while it was only in the fifteenth century, at the Council of Constance, that the use of the wine was prevented.

I would then address myself to the heads of your church and say, why is it that you who boast so much of the antiquity of your doctrines—the antiquity of your religious institutions—you, who in the hours of controversial difficulties fly to the traditions of your antients, as the great props of your vacillating arguments—the last hopes of your controversial safety—why you thus mutilate the traditions of antiquity?—why depart from that practice as old as Christianity itself?—why claim to yourselves a greater portion of wisdom than he who has instituted, than he who has ordained, than he who has sanctioned such a sacrament?—why infringe upon some of the most important words of a Saviour?—why violate that last impressive command of a Redeemer, by withholding from the people a right, which, if duly administered, must prove highly beneficial to the receiver? Equivocation may give an answer to such interrogations, but cool and dispassionate reason will receive no apology.

THE CONCLUSION.

My friends, there was a time when the dungeon or the scaffold would be the temporary but certain award of these my humble efforts for religion—a time when the most exquisite of tortures would follow a similar announcement of principle—a time when the inquisitorial rack would either extort a recantation of such sentiments, or point to some painful death as a necessary consequence of their avowal—a time when the Papal arm had wielded an ungovernable sway over the countries of Europe; and when secular power was so entwined around the ecclesiastical diadem, that a Pontiff’s nod might be once considered as a sufficient guarantee for the deposition of a monarch—a time when a Pope Gregory the Seventh {44} detained a Henry the Fourth, of Germany, for three days naked and fasting at his gates, and suing for mercy and absolution—a time when in the days of a Pope Innocent the Third {45a} the British crown had lain beneath the feet of Papal authority; and when a John of England was forced to yield obeisance to that edict which proclaimed absolution to a people from their due allegiance to a monarch. Yes, my friends, there was another period of time when individuals, under the pretext of religion, and under, if not the influence, at least the sanction of ecclesiastical power, had frequent recourse to acts of punishment which no religious creed should tolerate—a time when the manly and religious sentiments of a Lord Cobham {45b} had enkindled for his body the fire of persecution; and when the open avowal of a Ridley, a Hooper, a Cranmer, and a Latimer, {45c} had impressed upon their brow the indelible sentence of religious martyrdom. But blessed be God for all things, those times are past, and we now live in days when a more refined civilization has contracted the unlawful stretch of Roman church authority, and when the intelligence of mankind points out to a safer way for the glorious spirit of religious toleration.

Yes, “old things are passing away, behold all things are becoming new.” Even the narrow compass of your own days, furnishes to the reflecting mind a proof of the comparative enlightenment of the times; and gives to religious hope a more consoling assurance of a better futurity. That spell which kept your minds in unscriptural darkness, is now broken; for your Bishops have at length come to the resolution of letting the Gospel light among you. A cheap edition of the Douay Bible has been lately published for your particular instruction; and the Priest that would now withhold it from your perusal must undoubtedly wish to make a traffic of your ignorance. The number of your holydays is curtailed—those days which were often spent by some of you amid the scenes of drunken reveries, or in the circles of lawless assemblages. Your Saturday abstinence, which the superstitious times of a Gregory the Seventh had generated, is now abolished; all of which circumstances must form a remarkable epoch in the discipline of the Roman Church. The number of your reserved cases is also diminished. But here it may be requisite to apprise some of my readers of the meaning which Roman credulity attaches to the reservation of cases. A reserved case is generally termed that from which an ordinary confessor cannot absolve his penitent without a special privilege from his Bishop. Thus for instance, some time ago it was a reserved case for any of you to hear instructions in a Protestant house of worship. I have known an instance when a respectable Roman Catholic, who is now of considerable influence at the bar, was publicly denounced from an altar, for the mere fact of attending a charity sermon preached by a Protestant clergyman. But, my friends, it seems that the progress of years may divest crimes of their hideousness; and that this, which was once reckoned a reserved case, may be now counted among the number of your ordinary sins; for, I am now happy to inform you, that any officiating curate or parish priest has obtained the supposed privilege of absolving you from the imputed sin of receiving instruction.

I hope you will avail yourselves of whatever advantages the intelligence of the times may afford: and that the narrow or selfish views of man will no longer control you in the exercise of your judgment. Remember that “the word of God is fire tried,” and that it has ever courted investigation, while falsehood has always shrunk from inquiry. I know there are many among the lay portion of Roman Catholics, who would anxiously sever the link of their nominal adhesion to Roman doctrine, but their fears of an after persecution prevent an avowed acknowledgment of error. But, my friends, remember that the troubles of this life are not to be compared with the glory that awaits us in the next. “For (as the Apostle says) our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” {47a} I pray then, “That the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give unto you the spirit of wisdom and revelation in the knowledge of him; that the eyes of your understanding being enlightened, ye may know what is the hope of his calling” {47b}—and that ye may be strengthened to say with me in the words of the Psalmist, “In God I will praise his word; in God I have put my trust; I will not fear what flesh can do unto me.” Psalms 56th chap. 4th verse.

FOOTNOTES.

{30} See Hayes’s Sermon I.

{31} See Nicholson’s Philosophy, vol. 1.

{43} See Scheffmaker’s Polemical Catechism, translated by Coppinger, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Cloyne.

{44} In the eleventh century.

{45a} In the thirteenth century.

{45b} In the fifteenth century.

{45c} In the sixteenth century.

{47a} 2 Cor. 4th chap. 17th verse.

{47b} Ephes. 1st chap. 17–18 verses.