Real Magic

Any technology sufficiently advanced, as Arthur C. Clarke tells us, is indistinguishable from magic. We need to keep that in mind; even better, we need to ask ourselves, what does that really mean?, because:

What makes the traditional Eucharist unique is that it magically—and I mean that quite literally—it magically produces the Real Presence. The priest says the magic words This is my body, this is my blood and—presto! change-o!—the bread and wine become really, truly, literally—despite all appearances—the Body and Blood of Jesus.

Consider how utterly subversive that is. The doctrine of transubstantiation says that no matter how minutely you examine the bread and wine—no matter how deeply you probe inside the Matrix—all you’re ever going to find is the appearance of bread and wine. But under that appearance—under the Matrix’s artifice—is the Real Presence. There’s a reality, the doctrine of transubstantiation says, that lies beyond, outside the Matrix.

That’s exciting. That’s something worth exploring.

And you can also see why the Eucharist so appealed to Dick. At heart of Dick’s world view echos an incessant whisper: Never trust appearances. They’re always misdirection. There’s always something hidden, something far more subtle going on.

Next, consider that the words This is my body, this is my blood—

Hoc est enim corpus meum. Hic est calix sanguinis mei.

—are every bit as much a Harry Potter spell as Avada Kedavra or Crucio. And, as The Ancient One tells Doctor Strange, echoing Clarke, if the word spell bothers you, think computer program. Even better think hack, a tiny line of code inserted into the Matrix that disrupts its behavior, gets it to do something it has no intention of doing.

The sad fact is that for two interminable millennia the Catholic Church has been trying to crash the Matrix. To no avail, alas, because its Eucharist, the traditional Eucharist, is fatally impaired, nothing more than—