The Eucharist: Part 2

The Early Church Believed It

Introduction

For many Christians today, the Eucharist remains one of the most difficult Catholic teachings to accept. While Catholics profess that Christ is truly present—Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity—under the appearance of bread and wine, many Protestants view Communion differently. In their understanding, the Lord’s Supper is a symbol: a visible reminder of a past event, but not a continuation of Christ’s sacrifice, and certainly not a participation in His actual presence.

Because of this, the Catholic view of the Eucharist is often dismissed as a later invention—an unnecessary ritual built up over centuries, detached from the simplicity of the Gospel. Yet this assumption raises a deeper question: If the Real Presence is not a corruption, but the natural fulfillment of Christ’s covenant, should we not find it reflected from the very beginning? How the earliest Christians understood the Eucharist matters deeply, because it reveals how they understood the Gospel itself.

This article is Part 2 of a two-part series on the Eucharist: Christ’s real presence in the Bread and Wine. In Part 1, we examined why Scripture and covenantal theology demand more than a symbolic meal. Christ’s offering was not simply about death—it was about communion. In this article, we will turn to history, examining whether the earliest Christians received the Eucharist as the true Body and Blood of Christ, just as Scripture’s structure suggests they must have.

Review of Part 1

In Part 1, we explored why Christ’s sacrifice was not complete at death alone. Like the Passover, true sacrifice demands not only the offering, but the reception. God did not save Israel merely by the blood on the doorposts; He called them to eat the lamb. In the same way, Christ, our true Passover Lamb, does not merely die for us—He offers Himself to be received. Without the meal, the pattern of salvation is left incomplete. Without the Eucharist, the New Covenant is announced but never entered. Christ’s words at the Last Supper, and His actions on the Cross, must be seen through this lens: not as a memorial to a past event, but as a covenantal offering meant for real participation.

If this structure is real—if sacrifice demands communion—then the Apostles would have known. And the first Christians, taught directly by their hands, would have understood the Gospel not simply as news to be proclaimed, but as a covenant to be entered. If the Eucharist is what Scripture reveals it to be, we should find its reality echoed from the very beginning.

The Earliest Christians Believed

Before we turn to the testimony of the early Church, it’s worth remembering: these Christians were not interpreting the Gospel from a distance. They were its first recipients. They lived and worshiped before the New Testament was collected, before doctrine was systematized, before centuries of theological debate had left their mark. Their faith was not a reconstruction—it was the living memory of what the Apostles handed down. If Christ truly instituted the Eucharist as His Body and Blood, then it is here, in these earliest generations, that we would expect to find it.

And we do.

The early Christian witness leaves no ambiguity. Across different regions, audiences, and controversies, one testimony resounds: the Eucharist is not a symbol or memorial alone. It is the true Body and Blood of Christ, given for the life of the world.

Among many witnesses we could examine, three stand out with particular force: Ignatius of Antioch, Justin Martyr, and Irenaeus of Lyons. Their voices, separated by distance and audience, converge on the same confession.

1. Ignatius of Antioch (c. 107 A.D.)

Ignatius of Antioch, a disciple of the Apostle John, wrote several letters as he journeyed under Roman guard toward martyrdom. In his letter to the Smyrnaeans, he addresses a growing heresy with startling clarity:

"Let no man be deceived... Unless they [the heretics] believe in the blood of Christ, judgment awaits them also. [For] they abstain from the Eucharist and from prayer, because they do not confess that the Eucharist is the flesh of our Savior Jesus Christ." (Smyrnaeans 7:1)

For Ignatius, denial of the Eucharist was not a small error—it was a severing from salvation itself. He presses the point again in his letter to the Romans, revealing not just doctrine, but personal longing:

"I desire the bread of God, which is the flesh of Jesus Christ; and to drink, I desire His blood, which is love incorruptible." (Romans 7:9)

Here, the Eucharist is not poetry. It is sustenance—the true food of the Christian life.

2. Justin Martyr (c. 155 A.D.)

A generation later, Justin Martyr, one of the earliest Christian apologists, echoes the same confession to a pagan audience unfamiliar with Christian worship. Writing in his First Apology, he explains:

"We do not receive these as common bread or common drink; but as Jesus Christ our Savior being incarnate by God's word took flesh and blood for our salvation, so likewise the food which is blessed... is both the flesh and blood of the incarnate Jesus." (First Apology 65)

Justin does not hedge or soften his language. He draws a direct line from the Incarnation to the Eucharist: as Christ took flesh, so now His flesh is given. No mere symbol can bear such weight.

3. Irenaeus of Lyons (c. 180 A.D.)

Finally, we turn to Irenaeus of Lyons—a disciple of Polycarp, who himself had been taught by John. Confronting Gnostic heresies that denied the goodness of the material world, Irenaeus defends the reality of the Eucharist with the same blunt force:

"If the Lord were from other than the Father, how could He rightly take bread, which is of the same creation as our own, and confess it to be His Body, and affirm that the mixture in the cup is His Blood?" (Against Heresies 4.33.2)

For Irenaeus, to deny the Eucharist is to deny the Incarnation itself. Christ did not save us by appearance; He saved us by assuming real flesh. And in the Eucharist, that same flesh is given—not figuratively, but truly.

The Belief Was Universal

The pattern did not stop with Ignatius, Justin, and Irenaeus. Everywhere we look across the early Christian world, the same confession emerges: the Eucharist is not a symbol to be contemplated, but a reality to be received.

Clement of Alexandria, writing from Egypt in the early third century, affirms that believers "partake of the Word Himself" through the Eucharist. Tertullian, writing from North Africa, speaks of feeding on Christ’s flesh so that the soul may be filled with God. Ambrose of Milan teaches that the bread and wine are transformed into Christ’s Body and Blood by the words of Christ Himself. Augustine, while often speaking with the language of mystery, insists that the faithful truly receive the Body of Christ—not metaphorically, but sacramentally.

And this confession was not limited to those within the formal borders of Catholic unity. Even churches that would later split from Rome—over deep and lasting theological divisions—never abandoned the Real Presence. The Coptic Church of Egypt, the Syriac Church of Antioch, the Ethiopian Church of Africa—all of them preserved the same Eucharistic faith. Even the Nestorian Church, which carried Christianity as far east as Persia and India, continued to proclaim that the Eucharist is truly Christ’s Body and Blood.

By the time we reach the fifth century, belief in the Real Presence was not a local tradition or a regional doctrine. It was the fabric of Christian worship itself, stretching across continents, languages, and cultures.

This leaves us with an uncomfortable but necessary question:If belief in the Eucharist as Christ’s true Body and Blood was this universal—long before the Middle Ages, long before any supposed "Roman corruption"—then who truly departed from apostolic Christianity? The Catholics who preserved this faith, or those who later rejected it?

The Reformers Still Believed

Even when the unity of the Church collapsed in the Reformation, the core belief in Christ’s Real Presence endured longer than many realize. The first Reformers, though willing to discard doctrines they judged inconsistent with Scripture, refused to surrender the mystery of the Eucharist.

Martin Luther, despite his fierce opposition to the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, remained fiercely committed to Christ’s words: "This is my Body." At the Marburg Colloquy in 1529, when pressed by fellow reformers to view the Lord’s Supper as merely symbolic, Luther famously carved the Latin words Hoc est corpus meum—"This is my Body"—into the table before him. For Luther, Christ’s Real Presence was not a theory to be explained, but a mystery to be believed.

John Calvin, though more philosophical in his theology, likewise affirmed that believers partake of Christ’s true Body and Blood. He rejected the idea of a physical transformation of the elements but insisted that through faith and the power of the Holy Spirit, believers are drawn into real communion with Christ in the Supper. For Calvin, the Eucharist was not a symbol alone, but a true participation in the life of the risen Lord.

Both men, despite their sharp disagreements with Catholic sacramental theology, held fast to the ancient truth: that in the Eucharist, the Christian receives Christ Himself—not by symbol alone, but by real participation.

By this point, the evidence is clear: belief in the Real Presence was not a medieval invention, nor a Catholic distortion. It was the faith of the early Church, the universal confession of Christendom, and even the conviction of the first Reformers.

Why, then, do so many Protestants today view the Lord’s Supper as merely symbolic?

The answer is not found in Christ, the Apostles, or the early Church. It is not found in Augustine, or Aquinas, or even Luther and Calvin.

It begins with one man—a reformer who broke not only from Rome, but from fifteen centuries of Christian faith.

How Protestants Lost the Eucharist

Ulrich Zwingli, the Swiss reformer, rejected the ancient Christian understanding of Christ’s true presence in the Eucharist. He argued that since Christ’s human Body was in Heaven, it could not be present under the bread and wine. For Zwingli, the words “This is my Body” were symbolic—signifying a spiritual reality, but not a true one. He leaned heavily on John 6:63, claiming that "the flesh is of no avail" meant the Supper must be understood figuratively. What Christ had given, Zwingli believed, was a memorial meal—a sign to stir up faith, not a means to receive Christ Himself.

At first glance, this view sounds reasonable. It appeals to logic and common sense, and no doubt resembles how many Protestants today have always understood the Lord’s Supper. But it is a plain misinterpretation of Scripture—and worse, a complete rejection of the universal Christian witness. Zwingli wasn’t offering a minor variation. He was openly disagreeing with every Church Father, every council, and even the Reformers themselves. For fifteen centuries, Christians of every land and tradition confessed the Real Presence. Zwingli stood alone against them.

Yet despite this, Zwingli’s memorial view became the dominant belief in much of Protestantism. As the Reformation fractured and Enlightenment rationalism grew, skepticism toward mystery deepened. Over time, the Eucharist was stripped of its covenantal reality and reduced to a symbol. Today, many Evangelicals, Baptists, and Non-Denominationals inherit Zwingli’s theology without realizing how recent—and how radical—it truly was.

If a doctrine appears for the first time in the 16th century—after fifteen centuries of Christian consensus—it demands more than skepticism. It demands rejection. Protestants are quick to accuse Catholics of inventing late traditions, yet often ignore when the same is true among themselves. The simple truth is unavoidable: the symbolic-only Lord’s Supper is not the Christianity of the Apostles. It is not the faith of the early Church. It is the invention of a man who stood against both Scripture and history—and who should not be followed.

Conclusion

The Eucharist has always been one of the most controversial teachings in Christianity. For many non-Catholics, the idea that bread and wine could truly become Christ’s Body and Blood feels not only strange, but offensive. It creates a deep divide between Catholics and Protestants—making honest, respectful dialogue difficult from the very beginning.

Part 1 of this series showed why the Eucharist must be Christ Himself. Because in Scripture, sacrifice is not complete at death alone; it requires offering, the application of blood, and the meal. Without the Lamb being received, the covenant remains unfinished. Christ did not merely die to save us—He gave Himself to be consumed.

This article showed that this belief is not a Catholic invention, but the original and universal faith of the early Church. From the Apostles to the Church Fathers, across centuries and continents, Christians believed that the Eucharist is truly Christ’s Body and Blood. This was not a medieval distortion—it was the faith lived, received, and passed on from the beginning.

To my Protestant brothers and sisters: I urge you to reflect carefully. Why reject a belief that was universally taught until the 16th century, when one man—Zwingli—chose to break from it? And even if you remain unconvinced, why treat Catholics as idolaters or cannibals for holding to what Christians everywhere once confessed? The belief that the Eucharist is truly Christ is not magic. It is not superstition. It is the original Gospel made present—still offered, still received, and still calling to us today.