In following closely a campaign for trustee of Catholic schools, I was struck by the repeated assertion — made publicly and reiterated by the media — that it is not particularly important for Catholic students to attend Mass “every single week” as long as they are sensitive to the needs of the poor and are involved in social-justice activities.

Those who identified with this view called themselves “moderates” and encouraged the potential voter to regard their opposition in such terms as “conservative,” “fearful,” “judgmental” and “pre-Vatican II.”

It is hardly uncommon for people running for office to flatter themselves with positive-sounding labels while unfairly smearing their adversaries.

Such tactics, needless to say, are themselves inconsistent with social justice. Nevertheless, because of the Catholic context in which the campaign was conducted, this “moderate” view is most serious and warrants special attention.

Indeed, it warrants Scriptural analysis. What can we learn from the New Testament about the relative importance of the Eucharist and social justice? Surely they are both important. But to the true Catholic, is one more important than the other in such a way that one should precede the other? The order of importance is often critical, as our word “preposterous” indicates. For putting things in reverse order (prae + posterius, putting “before” that which should be “after”) is disordered and therefore preposterous.

The horse should precede the cart; the commandment to love God takes precedence over the commandment to love one's neighbor.

Multiplying Loaves

In John 6 we read about Christ's multiplication of the loaves and fishes. And though this miracle is rightly accepted as a quintessential example of sensitivity to the poor and social justice in action, it was but a prelude to something more important.

Jesus said to his followers: “Do not work for food that cannot last but work for food that endures to eternity” (John 6:27). Then, when people said, “give us this bread always,” Jesus answered, “I am the bread of life.”

Such a seemingly cryptic answer led to much complaining among those in his audience. Jesus spoke again: “I am the living bread that has come down from heaven. Anyone who eats this bread will live forever, and the bread that I shall give is my own flesh for the life of the world.”

Hearing this, people proceeded to argue with each other. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” they said. Jesus continued: “I tell you most solemnly, if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you will not have life in you.”

Upon hearing this, people said, “This is intolerable language. How could anyone accept it?“

Jesus knew, of course, that this first public announcement of the Eucharist would not be easy to accept, even among his followers. He watched as first the masses, then the elite and finally his own disciples left him. “What about you,” he said to his chosen apostles. “Do you want to go away, too?” And then Jesus enunciated something that was tragically prophetic: “Have I not chosen you, you twelve? Yet one of you is a devil.” He was referring, as John tells us, to Judas Iscariot, the man “who was going to betray him” (John 6:71).

Food for the belly is easy to accept. The five thousand were grateful for the loaves and fishes. They were grateful enough to want to make Jesus their King. But he would be a Bread King, and one of their own design, not that of the Father. This is also what Satan proposed when he tempted Christ — turn stones into bread, gratify people's immediate desires. Bread for the belly makes sense. It will have unfailing appeal. But bread for the soul! Is it not more practical, more expedient and more understandable to have social justice without having to bring in the Eucharist?

But Jesus would not accept a kingship based on a delivery system of instant and limitless food. On this day, Judas Iscariot was particularly opposed to the notion of the Eucharist, and his rejection of it was a precursor to ominous events.

As Bishop Fulton Sheen states in his Life of Christ: “The Gospel tells us the astounding story that Judas broke with Our Divine Lord the day he announced the giving of his flesh for the life of the world.”

The announcement of the Eucharist, after the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, was also a foretelling of the first Eucharist at the Last Supper. But it was also the announcement of Judas’ rejection and the foretelling of his betrayal of his Master. Citing Bishop Sheen once again: “At this promise of the Heavenly Bread, Judas cracked; and at the giving of the Eucharist on the night of the Last Supper, Judas split wide open and betrayed.”

It seems reasonable to interpret John 6 as an un-rebuttable argument for placing the importance of the Eucharist ahead of that of social justice. In no way, however, does this proper ordering diminish the importance of social justice. Moreover, this argument is made even stronger when we examine the conduct of Judas in the interlude between the announcement of the Eucharist and the Last Supper.

Six days before his crucifixion, Jesus went to Bethany to the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There, Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary, regaled him a great dinner. It was on this occasion that Mary, showing great honor to Jesus and anticipating his burial, poured very costly ointment on him and wiped the feet of her esteemed guest with her hair (John 12:1-4).

Judas’ Tears

Judas Iscariot, observing this act of apparent extravagance, said, “Why wasn't this ointment sold for 300 denarii and the money given to the poor?” John tells us that Judas was not at all concerned about the poor, despite his show, because he was, in reality, a thief who welcomed the opportunity to steal more money from the apostles’ common fund (John 12:5-7). Commenting on Judas’ hypocrisy, Giuseppe Ricciotti states in his The Life of Christ, “The disciple of mammon still wants to wear the uniform of the disciple of God.”

Putting on the mask of charity, Judas feigned an interest in the poor. His love for money prevented him from appreciating the beauty and significance of Mary's actions. There would be no time for Jesus to be properly oiled and perfumed immediately after his death. There would be an abundance of time to tend to the needs of the poor.

Judas’ preoccupation with money reaches its nadir when he accepts 30 pieces of silver from the chief priests to betray Christ. He did not, as we know, share his newly acquired wealth with the poor but flung the coins back at the priests and went out and hanged himself. At the Last Supper, while there was still opportunity for repentance and conversion, he left before the first Eucharist and, immediately after, as John records, “Satan entered him” (John 13:27).

The outline of Judas’ “discipleship” shows a regression from being an apostate to a thief to a traitor to a suicide. Concomitant with his tragic slide were his hollow declarations of social justice. It is reasonable to argue that there is a moral logic to this slide that begins in an act of apostasy. By rejecting the very life of Christ present in the Eucharist, Judas falls back into the dark recesses of his own isolated ego. He offers lip service to the poor but is unaware of his own poverty of soul. Thus isolated, he becomes desperate. He clings to money, abandons friends and finally, finding no solace in mere materiality, takes his own life.

Judas may well be the most tragic figure in all of human history. We remember his end and are both puzzled and horrified. How could someone chosen by Christ and so proximate to him be so completely un-Christlike! But we often neglect the genesis of his tragedy. And that genesis is the cold rejection of the life of Christ that is present in the Eucharist.

Social justice is a divine mandate. It cannot be ignored. But the life for Christians that animates their social-justice activities is Christ's own life, for without him we can do nothing (John 15:5). The Christian mandate is clear: First avail yourself of his life, then bring that very life to others. Everything begins and has its vivifying root in Christ. If one is performing acts of social justice, how much more fruitful would these acts be if they were animated by the Bread of Life? We cannot sustain the effect without constantly renewing the cause.

To put it simply, the advice given to Catholic students that the Mass is optional and of less significance than social justice is preposterous.

Dr. Donald DeMarco is professor emeritus at St. Jerome's University and adjunct professor at Holy Apostles College and Seminary.