Substance, Accident, and all that Jazz
Briefly: I have been thinking about the conflicting doctrines of the Eucharist, and of course one of the most prominent positions is that of Transubstantiation; i.e., the substance of the elements is transformed into the very body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ, while the accidents remain mere bread and wine. This is very well, and makes perfect sense in the Greek/Thomist view of the world.
But what happens to the doctrine if this view of the world is wrong? What, exactly, is the meaning of a substance or an accident? My understanding (surely very brutish and primitive) is thus: take a chair for an example. I presume the substance would be the non-physical "chairness," or the blueprint for what makes a chair a chair: it must have legs, a seat, and a back, for instance. The accidents would then be the particular French-style legs, the upholstered seat, the engraving carved into the back.
What, then, can we say of a glass of wine or a Communion wafer? What does the substance of a wafer comprise? Roundness? Certain proportions of wheat and water? It seems to me that the system begins to fray a little in this case, though I'm certain that arguments can be made to explain all this.
So I must resort to a deeper question: why should we, as Christians, accept these Greek ontologies that exalt the invisible so highly above the visible, the spirit so far above the matter? Is not our theology a thoroughly incarnational one? Are not both Testaments of the Bible literally alive with feasting, drinking, and lovemaking, with blood and wine and marauding Chaldeans, with harps and songs and shouts that bring down cities? Surely the sacred authors did not simply forget to include the fact that all these things are less real than their ghostly "substances;" that all this roiling life is to be ever so slightly sneered at, since it is mere "accident."
In this case, we seem to be left with new categories altogether; reality, it seems, is reality. What bearing this has on the Eucharist I have yet to figure out exactly; for now I leave you to more mature believers. Try www.leithart.com for a start.
But what happens to the doctrine if this view of the world is wrong? What, exactly, is the meaning of a substance or an accident? My understanding (surely very brutish and primitive) is thus: take a chair for an example. I presume the substance would be the non-physical "chairness," or the blueprint for what makes a chair a chair: it must have legs, a seat, and a back, for instance. The accidents would then be the particular French-style legs, the upholstered seat, the engraving carved into the back.
What, then, can we say of a glass of wine or a Communion wafer? What does the substance of a wafer comprise? Roundness? Certain proportions of wheat and water? It seems to me that the system begins to fray a little in this case, though I'm certain that arguments can be made to explain all this.
So I must resort to a deeper question: why should we, as Christians, accept these Greek ontologies that exalt the invisible so highly above the visible, the spirit so far above the matter? Is not our theology a thoroughly incarnational one? Are not both Testaments of the Bible literally alive with feasting, drinking, and lovemaking, with blood and wine and marauding Chaldeans, with harps and songs and shouts that bring down cities? Surely the sacred authors did not simply forget to include the fact that all these things are less real than their ghostly "substances;" that all this roiling life is to be ever so slightly sneered at, since it is mere "accident."
In this case, we seem to be left with new categories altogether; reality, it seems, is reality. What bearing this has on the Eucharist I have yet to figure out exactly; for now I leave you to more mature believers. Try www.leithart.com for a start.
posted by Robert C. Hamilton at 10:49 PM
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