A Call to Deep Relationship with Christ
Living a life connected with and configured to Jesus is a universal call for all Christians. Beyond the visible host we see, we believe and realize the Eucharist is Our Lord Jesus Christ Himself—the Word made flesh, the true bread and true drink come down from heaven.
Someone might ask, “How do you know that Jesus is present in the Eucharist?” The answer is simple: Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, Lex Vivendi, “The Law of that which is Prayed, is the Law of that which is Believed, is the Law of that which is Lived.” In short: Tradition, church teaching, liturgy, Scripture (Jn 6:32-66, Matt 26:26-27) and personal experience.
The Catechism of the Catholic Church unabashedly declares that the Eucharist is, “The source and summit of the faith.” (CCC 1324) In essence, all other sacraments and works of the church must stem from and lead back to the Eucharist. The Eucharist is central to everything we do!
The reality is, however, that the centrality of the Eucharist is something we as Catholics often take for granted. Growing up with the knowledge of Jesus’ real and substantial presence in our churches can make the Eucharist seem commonplace. In some sense this is good; if we are living a eucharistic way of life on a daily basis, in union with Christ and His Church, then Jesus will be close in all our daily actions and his presence will permeate our lives. We can see this reflected in the lives of the saints. St. John Paul II and St. Teresa of Calcutta are modern examples of Catholics who exuded Christ to all they encountered. Perhaps we know someone like this today—someone who, no matter the circumstances of life, remains joyful and resolute as they live connected to Our Lord.
The Danger of Complacency
Yet familiarity, without a deep relational encounter with Our Lord, can lead to complacency. Complacency in the faith—whether it results in or accompanies a failure to live a eucharistic way of life—is a true scandal to the faith of others. I believe this is often why people seek Jesus in other Christian communities after being raised in the Church. They themselves may struggle with complacency, and when they witness someone who professes to be Catholic yet lives far from Our Lord and His Church, with no evident desire to draw closer to either, they rightly feel repelled.
The famed quote by Mahatma Gandhi drives this point home: “If it weren’t for Christians, I’d be a Christian.” I wonder what Gandhi’s life might have looked like had he encountered a community of Christians living a eucharistic way of life, rather than one that refused to give him the time of day because of his social class.
We as Catholics are not alone in our struggle to live a eucharistic way of life—Christians as a whole wrestle with this calling—but I dare say that we, as Catholics, have both a unique advantage and a profound obligation to do so.
Learning from the Early Church
Our struggle to live a eucharistic way of life is not new. The Apostle Paul chastises the Corinthians for not living in a Christian manner and for failing to amend their ways. In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul corrects the Corinthian community that gathers to celebrate the Lord’s Supper but treats it like an ordinary meal.
Abuses abounded: some ate in a gluttonous fashion while others went hungry; preference was given to the distinguished members at the expense of the less notable; and people in a state of (what we would call) mortal sin presented themselves for Communion with no desire for conversion. The Apostle Paul warns that such people “eat and drink judgment on themselves.” (1 Cor 11:29)
Alternatively, when one witnesses someone striving and struggling to live a eucharistic way of life—doing their best to live the Faith because they love Our Lord—even if they fall short of the Christian ideal, it can be a true inspiration and draw others more deeply into the faith. Such is the story of Venerable Matt Talbot, who battled alcoholism. He drank so frequently and so heavily that, at one point, people could no longer tolerate him. After taking a pledge not to drink for three months and making a confession, he amended his ways. History shows that the years that followed were a constant struggle, but his example continues to inspire people to this day.
A Tale of Two Worship Experiences
Beyond the theoretical, I’m reminded of a personal experience that exemplifies this today. As part of a project for an ecumenism class I took in seminary, I was asked to attend another denomination’s worship service. I did so, attending an evangelical, Bible-based service. The experience was both challenging and hopeful—hopeful because, in some sense, the people were striving to live a eucharistic way of life; challenging because they did not know what they were missing.
The message at the Bible community that day focused on the body and blood of Christ as the source of our salvation—something we would readily agree with—but they understood the body and blood of Jesus only as a metaphor. While the community was earnestly striving to live out the Gospel message through praying with Scripture, praise, tithing and outreach, their worship was directed toward the stage, with all its lights and worship team—not toward the eucharistic presence of Christ on an altar or in a monstrance. To make an analogy, I left feeling as though I had been invited to a feast but had only been offered hors d’oeuvres—no main course.
I wondered, “How much prompting from the Holy Spirit would it really take for them to desire the Eucharist?” At that, the Bread of Life discourse from John’s Gospel immediately came to mind. On one hand, there was a deep desire to share the Gospel of the Eucharist as Christ had; on the other hand, I realized that many might ultimately find the teaching too difficult to accept—just as those who stopped following Jesus in John 6:60–66 after He declared that He is the Bread of Life, and that the Eucharist is His very flesh given for the life of the world. (Jn 6:32–59)
Leaving this service, I made my way to the Basilica of St. Josaphat. Here, the “true food” and “true drink” were being served. To extend the banquet analogy, this banquet hall was exquisitely decorated, and the meal being prepared was sure to be scrumptious—but sadly, many guests seemed disengaged and complacent. The woman next to me was more concerned with her phone than the heavenly feast being confected before our eyes; on my other side, a man had brought his own food, so to speak, as he sat slumped in the pew, chomping on gum. In some sense, Gandhi’s words seemed apropos.
Then I noticed a family in front of me doing their best to live a eucharistic way of life. The mother attended to an infant as it fussed, catching glimpses of the Mass as best she could. The father wrestled with a son trying to crawl under the pew, his arm around another child as they knelt, gazing upon Christ making Himself present on the altar through the person of the priest. My frustrations with those on my right and left subsided as I noticed this family. The scene was inspiring: they were embracing all the struggles that living a eucharistic way of life entails. In the challenges, they were being configured to Jesus. “Let the children come to me,” Jesus told His disciples, as they, too, struggled to keep the children in line.
This family reminded me of the centrality of the Eucharist in everyone’s vocational call, for it is “the source and summit of the faith.” To live a sacramental life so closely united to Our Lord and His Church that the parents’ resolve remained firm amid the chaos is an inspiration to all. We are not only called to be connected with and configured to Jesus. It is possible, but only with Our Lord’s assistance.
As Catholics, Our Lord reminds us of our privileged position when, in the Gospel of John, He tells us, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.” (Jn 6:56) Jesus gives Himself to the Church daily in a real and tangible way so that we may remain part of the vine. Yes, I dare say, we as Catholics have both an advantage and an obligation to live a life rooted in the Eucharist—to live a eucharistic way of life.
By Deacon Joseph Glatczak
Published in the Summer 2025 issue of Catholic Life Magazine