John Calvin Commentary 1 Corinthians 11:24

"and when he had given thanks, he brake it, and said, This is my body, which is for you: this do in remembrance of me." — 1 Corinthians 11:24 (ASV)

Having given thanks. Paul observes elsewhere that every gift we receive from the hand of God is sanctified to us by the word and prayer (1 Timothy 4:5). Accordingly, we nowhere read that the Lord tasted bread along with his disciples, but mention is made of his giving thanks (John 6:23), by which example he has assuredly instructed us to do likewise. This giving of thanks, however, refers to something higher, for Christ gives thanks to the Father for his mercy toward the human race and the inestimable benefit of redemption. He invites us, by his example, to raise our minds as often as we approach the sacred table, to acknowledge the boundless love of God toward us, and to have our minds kindled to true gratitude.

Take, eat, this is my body. As Paul designed here to instruct us in a few words about the right use of the sacrament, it is our duty to consider attentively what he sets before us and allow nothing to pass unobserved, since he says nothing but what is exceedingly necessary to be known and worthy of the closest attention.

First, we must note that Christ here distributes the bread among the Apostles so that all may partake of it in common, and thus everyone may receive his portion, ensuring equal participation among all. Accordingly, when a common table is not prepared for all the pious—where they are not invited to the breaking of bread in common, and where, ultimately, believers do not mutually participate—it is futile to lay claim to the name of the Lord’s Supper.

But for what purpose are the people called to mass, if not to come away empty from a meaningless show? It has, therefore, nothing in common with the Supper. From this, we also infer that Christ’s promise is no more applicable to the mass than to the feast of the Salii. For when Christ promises that he will give us his body, he at the same time commands us to take and eat of the bread. Therefore, unless we obey this command, it is futile to glory in his promise.

To explain this more simply—the promise is annexed to the commandment conditionally, so to speak; therefore, it is fulfilled only if the condition is also fulfilled. For example, it is written, Call upon me; I will answer thee (Psalms 91:15). It is our part to obey God's command, so that he may fulfill for us what he promises; otherwise, we exclude ourselves from its fulfillment.

What do Papists do? They neglect participation and consecrate the bread for a totally different purpose, and in the meantime they boast that they have the Lord’s body. While, by a wicked divorce, they put asunder those things which Christ has joined together (Matthew 19:6), it is clear that their boasting is futile.

Therefore, whenever they bring forward the clause—This is my body—we must counter them with the one that immediately precedes it: Take and eat. For the meaning of the words is: “By participating in the breaking of bread, according to the order and observance which I have prescribed, you will also be participants in my body.” Therefore, when an individual eats of it by himself, the promise in that case is worthless.

Besides, we are taught in these words what the Lord would have us do. Take, he says. Therefore, those who offer a sacrifice to God have someone other than Christ as their authority, for we are not instructed in these words to perform a sacrifice.

But what do Papists say about their mass? At first they were so impudent as to maintain that it was truly and properly called a sacrifice. Now, however, they admit that it is indeed a commemorative sacrifice, but in such a way that the benefit of redemption is, by means of their daily oblation, applied to the living and the dead. However that may be, they present the appearance of a sacrifice. First, there is rashness in this, as it is without any command from Christ; but a still more serious error is involved: while Christ appointed the Supper for this purpose, that we might take and eat, they pervert it to a totally different use.

This is my body. I will not recount the unhappy contests that have tried the Church in our times about the meaning of these words. Indeed, would to God that we could bury the memory of them in perpetual oblivion! I will state, first of all, sincerely and without disguise, and then further, I will state freely (as I am accustomed to do) what my views are.

Christ calls the bread his body; for I set aside, without any dispute, the absurd notion that our Lord did not present the bread to the Apostles, but his own body, which they saw with their eyes, for it immediately follows—This cup is the new testament in my blood. Let us then regard it as beyond all controversy that Christ is here speaking of the bread.

Now the question is—“In what sense?” To elicit the true meaning, we must hold that the expression is figurative; for, assuredly, to deny this is exceedingly dishonest. Why then is the term body applied to the bread? All, I think, will allow that it is for the same reason John calls the Holy Spirit a dove (John 1:32). Thus far we are agreed.

Now, the reason the Spirit was so called was this: he had appeared in the form of a dove. Therefore, the name of the Spirit is transferred to the visible sign. Why should we not maintain that there is a similar instance of metonymy here, and that the term body is applied to the bread as its sign and symbol?

If any are of a different opinion, they will forgive me; but it appears to me to be evidence of a contentious spirit to dispute stubbornly on this point. I lay it down then, as a settled point, that there is a sacramental form of expression here, in which the Lord gives to the sign the name of the thing signified.

We must now proceed further and inquire about the reason for the metonymy. Here I reply that the name of the thing signified is not applied to the sign simply as its representation, but rather as its symbol, by which the reality is presented to us.

For I do not allow the validity of those comparisons some borrow from profane or earthly things, for there is a material difference between them and the sacraments of our Lord. The statue of Hercules is called Hercules, but what do we have there but a bare, empty representation? On the other hand, the Spirit is called a dove, as a sure pledge of the Spirit's invisible presence.

Therefore, the bread is Christ’s body because it assuredly testifies that the body it represents is presented to us, or because the Lord, by offering us that symbol, gives us at the same time his own body; for Christ is not a deceiver, to mock us with empty representations. Therefore, I regard it as beyond all controversy that the reality is conjoined with the sign here; or, in other words, that we no less truly become participants in Christ’s body in spiritual efficacy than we partake of the bread.

We must now discuss the manner. Papists present to us their system of transubstantiation: they allege that when the act of consecration has been performed, the substance of the bread no longer exists, and nothing remains but the accidents. To this notion we oppose not merely the plain words of Scripture, but the very nature of the sacraments.

For what is the meaning of the supper, if there is no correspondence between the visible sign and the spiritual reality? They would have the sign be a false and deceptive appearance of bread. What then will the thing signified be but a mere imagination?

Therefore, if there must be a correspondence between the sign and its reality, the bread must be real—not imaginary—to represent Christ’s real body. Besides, Christ’s body is given to us here not simply, but as food. Now it is by no means the color of the bread that nourishes us, but its substance. Finally, if we would have reality in the thing itself, there must be no deception in the sign.

Rejecting then the dream of Papists, let us see how Christ’s body is given to us. Some explain that it is given to us when we are made partakers of all the blessings Christ has procured for us in his body—when, I say, we by faith embrace Christ as crucified for us and risen from the dead, and in this way are effectually made partakers of all his benefits.

As for those who are of this opinion, I have no objection to their holding such a view. As for myself, I acknowledge that it is only when we obtain Christ himself that we come to partake of Christ’s benefits. He is, however, obtained, I affirm, not only when we believe that he was made an offering for us, but when he dwells in us—when he is one with us—when we are members of his flesh (Ephesians 5:30)—when, finally, we are incorporated with him (so to speak) into one life and substance.

Besides, I attend to the meaning of the words, for Christ does not simply present to us the benefit of his death and resurrection, but the very body in which he suffered and rose again. I conclude that Christ’s body is really (as the common expression is)—that is, truly—given to us in the Supper to be wholesome food for our souls. I use the common form of expression, but my meaning is that our souls are nourished by the substance of the body so that we may truly be made one with him, or, what amounts to the same thing, that a life-giving virtue from Christ’s flesh is poured into us by the Spirit, though it is at a great distance from us and is not mixed with us.

There now remains only one difficulty: how is it possible that his body, which is in heaven, is given to us here on earth? Some imagine that Christ’s body is infinite and is not confined to any one space, but fills heaven and earth (Jeremiah 23:24), like his divine essence.

This fancy is too absurd to require refutation. The Schoolmen dispute with more refinement about his glorious body. Their whole doctrine, however, reduces itself to this: Christ is to be sought in the bread, as if he were included in it. Therefore, it happens that people's minds behold the bread with amazement and adore it instead of Christ.

Should anyone ask them whether they adore the bread or its appearance, they will confidently agree that they do not; but, in the meantime, when about to adore Christ, they turn to the bread. They turn, I say, not merely with their eyes and their whole body, but even with the thoughts of their heart. Now what is this but pure idolatry?

But that participation in the body of Christ, which I affirm is presented to us in the Supper, does not require local presence, nor Christ's descent, nor infinite extension, nor anything of that nature; for the Supper, being a heavenly action, there is no absurdity in saying that Christ, while remaining in heaven, is received by us. For as to his communicating himself to us, that is effected through the secret power of his Holy Spirit, which can not only bring together but also join in one, things separated by distance of place and far remote.

But, so that we may be capable of this participation, we must rise heavenward. Here, therefore, faith must be our resource when all bodily senses have failed. When I speak of faith, I do not mean any sort of opinion resting on human contrivances, as many, boasting of faith on all occasions, go grievously astray on this point.

What then? You see bread—nothing more—but you learn that it is a symbol of Christ’s body. Do not doubt that the Lord accomplishes what his words intimate—that the body, which you do not behold at all, is given to you as a spiritual meal.

It seems incredible that we should be nourished by Christ’s flesh, which is at such a great distance from us. Let us bear in mind that it is a secret and wonderful work of the Holy Spirit, which it would be criminal to measure by the standard of our understanding.

“In the meantime, however, drive away gross imaginations, which would keep you from looking beyond the bread. Leave to Christ the true nature of flesh, and do not, by a mistaken understanding, extend his body over heaven and earth; do not divide him into different parts by your fancies, and do not adore him in this place and that, according to your carnal understanding. Allow him to remain in his heavenly glory, and you aspire there, so that he may from there communicate himself to you.”

These few things will satisfy those who are sound and modest. As for the curious, I would have them look elsewhere for the means of satisfying their appetite.

Which is broken for you. Some explain this as referring to the distribution of the bread, because it was necessary that Christ’s body should remain entire, as it had been predicted (Exodus 12:46), A bone of him shall not be broken. As for myself—while I acknowledge that Paul alludes to the breaking of bread, I understand the word broken as used here for sacrificed—not, indeed, with strict propriety, but at the same time without any absurdity.

For although no bone was broken, yet the body itself, having been subjected first to so many tortures and inflictions, and afterwards to the most cruel form of death, cannot be said to have been uninjured. This is what Paul means by its being broken.

This, however, is the second clause of the promise, which should not be passed over lightly. For the Lord does not present his body to us simply and without any additional consideration, but as having been sacrificed for us.

The first clause, then, intimates that the body is presented to us; this second clause teaches us what advantage we derive from it—that we are partakers of redemption, and the benefit of his sacrifice is applied to us. Therefore, the Supper is a mirror that represents Christ crucified to us, so that no one can profitably and advantageously receive the Supper except the one who embraces Christ crucified.

Do this in remembrance of me. Therefore, the Supper is a memorial (μνημόσυνον) appointed as a help to our weakness; for if we were sufficiently mindful of the death of Christ, this help would be unnecessary. This is common to all sacraments, for they are helps to our weakness.

What is the nature of that remembrance Christ would have us cherish concerning him, we will hear presently. As for the inference, however, which some draw from this—that Christ is not present in the Supper because a remembrance applies to something absent—the answer is easy: Christ is absent from it in the sense that the Supper is a commemoration.

For Christ is not visibly present and is not seen with our eyes, as are the symbols that excite our remembrance by representing him. In short, so that he may be present with us, he does not change his place but communicates to us from heaven the power of his flesh, as though it were present.