May 2026 Print

By Dr. Robert Lazu Kmita

The reading of the four Gospels, just like reading the Acts of the Apostles, often amazes us because of the miracles performed by our Lord Jesus Christ. Contact with the world of that extraordinary period in which God the Son became incarnate from the Holy Virgin Mary raises in our minds one of the questions that in our times seems inevitable: do we not need such miracles now, when unbelief and heresies appear to be more widespread than ever? From here, we immediately reach the most difficult question: why does God no longer perform public miracles in such turbulent times?

Over the years, I have encountered people who raised such questions and also expressed a deep sorrow regarding the magnitude of the neo-modernist crisis in the Church. What surprised me, however, was to find that such difficult questions have not only been expressed today. In times much closer to the period when God lived and preached among men—such as the era of the Holy Fathers and Doctors of the Church—Christians also asked these questions. St. John Chrysostom (c. 347–407), for example, discussed the problem of the disappearance of miracles in his commentaries on the Gospels of Matthew and John. The great orator and preacher always emphasized the profound connection between the miracles performed by our Lord Jesus Christ and the faith of those who were present. The lack of faith reduced their number or even prevented them. Thus, the faith of those who needed His divine help was the necessary “ingredient” for God to act in a miraculous way.

Commenting on the first public miracle performed at the wedding in Cana of Galilee (Jn. 2:1-11), St. John Chrysostom reveals the importance of the spiritual state of the apostles, for whom the evangelical teachings themselves were true miracles that awakened the amazement of those who listened to them:

“And His disciples believed on Him” (Jn. 2:11). His disciples, who even before this regarded Him with wonder. Do you see that it was especially necessary to work the miracles at times when men were present of honest minds, and who would carefully give heed to what was done? For these would more readily believe, and attend more exactly to the circumstances. And how could He have become known without miracles? Because His doctrine and prophetic powers were sufficient to cause wonder in the souls of His hearers, so that they took heed to what He did with a right disposition, their minds being already well affected towards Him. And therefore in many other places the Evangelists say, that He did no miracle on account of the perversity of the men who dwelt there.¹

Probably, there is no point more important than this surprising relationship between the faith of the witnesses and the miraculous deeds of God. The presence of supernatural faith makes them possible, while its absence hinders them—often completely. In this true axiom we already find one of the most important teachings that results from meditating on the Gospels: God does not work alone. Even though the manifestation of His divine power belongs exclusively to Him and nothing and no one can hinder or condition it, the cooperation of man—even if only through his trust in this power—is expected and rewarded by our Lord Jesus Christ.

For the attentive reader, it is clear that at the wedding in Cana of Galilee the principal manifestation that received from God the miracle of transforming water into wine was that of the perfect faith of the Queen of the universe: the Holy Virgin Mary.

First of all, let us observe the extraordinary attention that the Mother of God shows toward those among whom she is present. She notices that the wedding guests have no more wine. And not only does she notice it, but she immediately intercedes—without anyone asking her!—with her Son in order to obtain what the guests lack. What wedding can there be without wine? Or, more precisely, what wedding can there be without the joy of the heart? Personally, I strongly believe that God gave them not only wine, but also the grace not to abuse it while drinking it.

Then, the Holy Virgin is the one who intercedes for the gift of wine. Is she not the Mediatrix of all graces? At the same time, she teaches the guests—and also us—what they (what we) must do: “Whatsoever he shall say to you, do ye” (Jn. 2:5).

At first glance, therefore, we notice an implicit teaching concerning the most elementary needs of people. God is ready to listen to our requests for everything we lack—even for common needs, for what is necessary in our everyday life. We see how powerful the intercession of the Holy Virgin Mary is. It is always worth showing this to those who question the value of the prayers we address to the Mother of God, to the angels, and to the saints in Heaven. We ask their intercession before God, convinced of their worthiness.

At the same time, we may ask ourselves: does the miracle at the wedding in Cana—which emphasizes the value that Christian marriage has in the eyes of God—concern only wine? Reflecting on this, we immediately remember the most important Sacrament of our Church: the Holy Eucharist. Under the appearances of unleavened bread and wine, we receive the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. Clearly, the miracle at Cana immediately directs our thoughts to the sacrifice of the Son of God, a sacrifice through which, under the form of wine, He gives us His Blood in the Holy Eucharist.

We might call this eminent Sacrament of the Church that takes place before our eyes the “daily mystery.” But in order to contemplate it, we must fulfill the condition highlighted by Saint John Chrysostom: we must have great trust—just like the Holy Virgin Mary and the apostles—in the power of God.

We must also admit that no other sacrament is more contested than this one. Seeing what has taken place in recent decades in the context of the reformed liturgy of Pope Paul VI, we may often wonder whether some bishops, priests, and many of the faithful do not approach the Holy Eucharist with suspicion or even disbelief. It may be that precisely here lies one of the key points of the enormous present crisis.

Yet no matter how strong the storm may be, the calming of the raging waves can come only through the same faith that the Holy Virgin and the apostles had. In order to deepen it, I will recall here one of the most beautiful and profound teachings presented in the Roman Catechism (1566), which speaks about “the three Mysteries of the Holy Eucharist.”² Let us meditate on them, one by one.

“The first is that the true body of Christ the Lord, the same that was born of the Virgin, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father in heaven, is contained in this Sacrament.”

Reading the words above, one gets the impression that everything pertaining to the physical world fades away to the point of disappearing. History, even time itself, becomes relative. For the Holy Eucharist makes us contemporaries not only with the birth of our Lord from the Holy Virgin Mary but also with His death, resurrection, and ascension. Moreover, we cannot help but be amazed by the omnipresence of the One who, although He is in Heaven—“at the right hand of the Father”—is also on earth, right next to us who participate in the Holy Liturgy. Of course, if Padre Pio received the gift of bi- or multi-location, we should not be surprised that the One who granted him that gift—God Himself—can be present everywhere at once.

Let us now move on to the second mystery:

“The second, however repugnant it may appear to the senses, is that none of the substance of the elements remains in the Sacrament.”

Here we need a bit of Thomistic philosophy. Of particular importance for our Church is the fact that—just as for all the other Sacraments—the terminology used by the Catechism is that of Scholastic philosophy. In other words, the philosophical and metaphysical notions adopted are those of Aristotle’s metaphysics as discerned, developed, and used by St. Thomas Aquinas. This detail shows how important the thought of the Angelic Doctor is for establishing the metaphysical framework that helps us understand—so far as it is possible—the sacramental mysteries.

The name of the doctrine, inspired by notions from the Ancient Greek language, is “hylomorphism”—from ὕλη (húlē, i.e., “matter”) and μορφή (morphē, i.e., “form”). Within this framework, the Council of Trent marks out the path of thought on which we may walk without the risk of error. The particularization of a being or thing is completed through “accidents”—non-essential properties that can change without altering the fundamental nature of a substance (the best example of an accident being the particular color of a thing).

Bread and wine themselves exist through the combination of the two metaphysical principles mentioned above: “matter” and substantial “form.” These two principles combine to make the substance of a thing. For example, we all have experience of many loaves of bread. Although we perceive a multitude of particular, concrete loaves that differ from one another in accidents (appearance like color, weight, and so on), behind this plurality there is a single substantial “form” (the principle actualizing matter into bread’s essence) to which all bakery products with certain characteristics belong. Thus we, distinguish between accidental properties of material bread (the bread we sense through accidents), and the complete substantial bread (matter informed by substantial form), the full knowledge of which we reach—St. Thomas Aquinas teaches, following Aristotle—only through an intellectual operation called “abstraction.”

What the Council of Trent teaches us is precisely this: although the external, material, “accidental” aspects of bread and wine remain unchanged, through divine intervention the whole “substance” (matter and substantial form together) of each of them is replaced—in the case of bread by the Body of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in the case of wine by His Blood. This total replacement of the substance is called, in the Thomistic theological-metaphysical language of the Council of Trent, transubstantiation. This is a mystery which, however, is accessible to our minds only through the supernatural grace of faith.

When, during the Holy Liturgy, transubstantiation takes place, the complete substance of the bread and wine is literally completely replaced with the Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, present in every particle of the Eucharist with His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. Thus, as the Catechism says, nothing of the substance of the bread and wine remains behind the appearances. The notion of “transubstantiation” refers precisely to this change of the whole substances of bread and wine into the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Finally, the third mystery results from the first two:

“The third, which may be deduced from the two preceding, although the words of consecration themselves clearly express it, is that the accidents which present themselves to the eyes or other senses exist in a wonderful and ineffable manner without a subject. All the accidents of bread and wine we can see, but they inhere in no substance, and exist independently of any; for the substance of the bread and wine is so changed into the body and blood of our Lord that they altogether cease to be the substance of bread and wine.”

As we see, the accidents that remain perceptible to our senses after transubstantiation exist in a mysterious, ineffable way. We may wonder at all this. And this is a promising thing because, according to Aristotle, wonder is the beginning of true philosophy.

Endnotes

¹ St. John Chrysostom, “Homily 23 on the Gospel of John,” https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/240123.htm (last accessed March 9, 2026).

² Catechism of the Council of Trent for parish priests, Issued by order of Pope Pius V, Translated into English with notes, by John A. McHugh, O.P., and Charles J. Callan, O.P., Tenth Printing, 1947, pp. 228-229. All the quotations are from this edition.

TITLE IMAGE: The Marriage Feast at Cana, Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617–1682).