A Homily for the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ
Readings: Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a 1 Corinthians 10:16-17 John 6:51-58
She had missed the party, so I brought her a piece of cake. That is what we do, is it not? Who does not want a piece of cake? And bringing back a slice is a way of saying that someone was missed at the party.
In this case, there had not been a party, and I did not bring her a piece of cake. Ann is in a hospital 30 miles from home. She has been away for six months, having been shuffled through several hospitals around the state. Ann is dying, and I brought her Holy Communion.
Upon retirement, Ann moved back to her hometown. She immediately began coming to Mass daily. And Ann liked to be there long before the service began. So, I learned to turn up the lights in the church much earlier, before her little white SUV, with her walker tucked into its back, arrived out front.
Ann has a great heart for sharing her faith. She was constantly finding people in her apartment complex who had been Catholic at some point in their life. Ann would bring them with her to Mass, and she made sure that I followed up with a visit to their homes.
Ann would sometimes respond to our parish’s computer-generated reminders by saying, “I can’t be at Mass, but I wish I could.”
Ann has been very supportive of me as a priest, constantly mailing me cards. She would write to thank me for something or to say that she was praying for me. Even during her absence these past months, Ann would sometimes respond to our parish’s computer-generated reminders by saying, “I can’t be at Mass, but I wish I could.”
Our national Eucharistic revival seeks to revive the spirituality that Ann evidences, a deep love for the Eucharist. Our bishops are betting that if we truly believed in what we call the Real Presence, Catholics who are now absent would come back to Mass.
But surely how we celebrate the Eucharist and what we understand this communal meal to be is also essential. The Mass does not exist simply to generate Holy Communion, just as we do not throw parties only to share a slice of cake. Eucharist as action and as object are interlocked. Considering one aspect need not denigrate the other, and looking to both enhances each.
Perhaps that is why we have two distinct Eucharistic feasts. Holy Thursday, especially in its washing of the feet, highlights a communal act, a common meal that Jesus instituted. In contrast, Corpus Christi, with its outdoor processions of the Blessed Sacrament, promotes the continuing presence of Christ in the reserved Eucharist.
It helps to remember that the Eucharist was first reserved not as an object for adoration but for distribution to the sick, who were absent from the Eucharistic celebration. In that regard, it was like a piece of cake brought from the party. You were not with us, but we missed you.
All Christians believe that Christ is present when they gather. Indeed, he promised that he would be (Mt 18:20). Most Christians believe that Christ is sacramentally present when they eat his body and drink his blood during the Eucharist. Roman Catholics and the Eastern Churches reserve the consecrated hosts as the Body of Christ, both for adoration and for later distribution.
Our bishops are betting that if we truly believed in what we call the Real Presence, Catholics who are now absent would come back to Mass.
Notice that during the Eucharistic celebration, and afterward, we refer to what we receive as “holy Communion” not a “holy object” or even a “most sacred presence.” We have not gathered to pick up, to collect, something sacred. We gather to become what we receive: a holy communion. Our host has called us into fellowship with himself and with others.
More than action or object, Eucharist is a person. Neither the communal meal nor the reception of the sacred food have been truly understood if they are not seen as real encounters with the person who is Christ. This is the “real presence” the bishops correctly call us to recognize and receive.
The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? (1 Cor 10:16-17)
Ann and I visited for a while before we came to sacraments. How did she feel? Was she in pain? Were her caregivers good to her? I told her that we had finally installed a handicap accessible door. I apologized that it had not been there for her. She graciously expressed such gratitude for the gesture.
On the Feast of Corpus Christi, we take to the road with Christ as food and presence.
Eventually Ann and I moved into sacraments. We entered a realm rich in shared meaning: verses of scripture to be pronounced, gestures passed through generations, sensoria of taste and touch, everything infused with significance.
The depth of that significance follows an unalterable rule of faith: God gives himself to us in the measure that we open ourselves to him. What that day’s holy Communion meant to Ann was a direct result of her lifelong faithfulness to her eucharistic Lord. Fidelity to the meal determined the fullness of the food she consumed. Whatever our limitations, Ann and I stood in holy communion, not only with each other but with Our Lord and with his church universal, spread across continents and centuries.
On the night before he gave himself for us, Christ gave himself to us: in ritual, in gesture, in touch and taste. He gave himself in meal and in food. The food stands at the core of the meal. It cannot be understood apart from the meal.
On the Feast of Corpus Christi, we take to the road with Christ as food and presence. We show him to the neighborhood. Such cheeky confidence! Yet we are convinced that this small object, this food to be consumed—adored but then consumed—ushers us into a world of holy communion with him.
That is the sheer genius of the Catholic faith! Though accord it to the author, not to the publishers. We can be alone in a darkened church and know that we are with him—and with our saints. We loved them while they were with us and we have now confided them to his care.
That day in the hospital, Ann and I stood in holy communion, not only with each other but with Our Lord and with his cChurch universal, spread across continents and centuries. If a carried- home piece of cake says our host was thinking of us at the party, then Eucharist brought to our bed says that this host claims the world itself as his banquet table. He and his holy ones have brought the party to us. Seen or consumed, whether walking through the neighborhood or at bedside, Eucharist is, to borrow a title from Hemingway, a moveable feast.
