Dear Sisters and Brothers, fellow members of the Body of Christ: 

We have just shared a powerful and beautiful experience: a Mass “of all nations”, celebrating that we are truly a Catholic – that is, universal – Church.  Believers young and old, of all languages and cultures, of every social and economic status, coming together as equal partners in the Body of Christ, bearing witness to our common faith that the love of Jesus made real in the Eucharist has the power to transform our parishes, our church, our city, and our world!!  

En 2017, j’ai été profondément touché par les paroles de Mgr Yves De Saux, l’évêque du diocèse de Le Mans, l’église locale qui a formé l’esprit missionnaire de Jerome Le Royer, qui a terminé son homélie avec cette belle image : “Quand ça brûle à l’intérieur, ça chauffe à l’extérieur!”  (When we are burning with love on the inside, the heat radiates out to others.) C’est comme lors de la rencontre des disciples avec le Seigneur ressuscité sur le chemin d’Emmaüs : lorsqu’ils l’ont reconnu à la fraction du pain, ils ont eu cette même réaction : « Nos cœurs ne brûlaient-ils pas en nous, quand il marchait avec nous sur la route, quand il nous ouvrait l’écriture? » 

What does it mean in my life, in yours, to experience this burning love of God within us, with a heat so intense that it can only – that indeed, it must be shared with others?  As I look back at my own journey, I remember a very intense moment that happened when I was about 21 years old.  I was studying Mathematics at McGill, with the goal of pursuing a career in actuarial sciences.  Meanwhile, I was taking electives in philosophy and theology, much more engaged by the material there than in my Math classes.   

I was involved in the parish as a lector and had just begun directing the folk choir.  Thoughts of the priesthood arose occasionally, but then were put aside for the time being.   

Then we went on a retreat led by our pastor, Fr. Gerry Westphal, who had become a mentor to me.  As part of that retreat, we had all-night Eucharistic adoration, and I got the 4 a.m. to 5 a.m. watch.  Though struggling to stay awake, I had an intense experience not only of the Lord’s presence, but of his personal love for me, his call in my life.  And when at 6 a.m., I assisted Fr. Gerry with Benediction, holding the monstrance, there was like a breakthrough – that Jesus was a real and living part of my life, that I wanted to dedicate my life to serving him and making him known, that God had a plan for me.  This was neither the beginning nor the end of my journey, but an important step that led me two years later, after finishing my degree and working for a year in my career as an actuary, to enter the seminary and begin my journey to the priesthood.  And the rest, as they say, is history!!  

Or, better still, an ongoing story!  Il faut surtout résister à la tentation de limiter notre foi, de la réduire à un élément du passé, de la tradition, d’un “patrimoine religieux”, sans référence au présent.  As I reflect on my 28 years as a priest, I know how easy it is to take the Eucharist for granted, to celebrate and receive this precious gift almost mechanically.  Yet day in and day out, in magnificent basilicas and the simplest of parish churches, in hospital chapels and refugee camps, we come together to remember and celebrate: Christ's body broken for us, Christ’s blood poured out for us, each day of our lives.  And so, we are called to recognize the awesome nature of the gift of the Eucharist, and to embrace the challenge it presents to us: for we are his Body, his living presence in the world.  

One of my heroes is the French Jesuit and palaeontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin.  In the Hymn of the Universe, Teilhard offers his Mass on the World, connecting his scientific work, his contemplation of creation, and his priestly ministry:  

Since once again, Lord, here in the steppes of Asia, I have neither bread nor wine nor altar, I will raise myself beyond these symbols, to the pure majesty of the real itself: I, your priest, will make the whole earth my altar and on it I will offer you all the labours and sufferings of this world you created.   

Le soleil vient d’illuminer, là-bas, la frange extrême du premier Orient. Une fois de plus, sous la nappe mouvante de ses feux, la surface vivante de la Terre s’éveille, frémit, et recommence son effrayant labeur. Je placerai sur ma patène, ô mon Dieu, la moisson attendue de ce nouvel effort. Je verserai dans mon calice la sève de tous les fruits qui seront aujourd’hui broyés. 

Mon calice et ma patène, ce sont les profondeurs d’une âme largement ouverte à toutes les forces qui, dans un instant, vont s’élever de tous les points du globe et converger vers l’Esprit. Qu’ils viennent donc à moi, le souvenir et la mystique présence de ceux que la lumière éveille pour une nouvelle journée. 

Teilhard’s words challenge us.  There is a whole world – a whole universe – to be transformed.  Christ is counting on us – on you and me – to offer our own lives to be taken and blessed, broken and shared, for the life of the world.  Are we ready for this?   

When giving communion to the newly-baptized, St. Augustine spoke these words: “Receive what you are; become what you receive.”  Ponder it.  In the Eucharist, God gives his very self to us. God enters into communion with us, transforms us from within; God chooses to abide in us, to make his home in us.  Imagine if we really believed this.  Our churches would be full not just on Sundays, but every day.  It’s really amazing, when you stop to think about it!  But perhaps that’s the problem.  We don’t.  We are so accustomed to the Mass, to receiving communion, that we easily go into auto-pilot.  We forget that for divine grace to be effective in us, we need to make room for Christ, hear his call, cooperate with his plan.  We forget that Eucharist is about transformation: the missionary transformation to which we are now called.  

My friends, let us never lose that connection between what we celebrate here in church, and what goes on in the rest of our lives. As recent events have shown us only too clearly and painfully, the broken Body of Christ is within the church, and all around the church. There is so much forgiveness to be sought; so many feet to be washed, so many relationships to mend, so many hurting people to welcome.  

There is so much we still have to let go of in order to become what Pope Francis is calling us to be: “a church that is poor with the poor”, “a field hospital for sinners, not a country-club for the righteous”, a people who embrace the “revolution of tenderness” to counteract the “globalization of indifference.”   

As we leave here this evening, may we be so transformed by the Eucharist we receive, that we become that living flame described by Bishop Le Mans: a flame burning deep within us, spreading light and warmth all around us.  Rather than lamenting the secularism around us, or despairing that our children and grandchildren no longer practice their faith, we will embrace the challenge to be the Body of Christ for them, through the authenticity of our love and witness.  “See how they love one another!”  

May we all go forth from this place, putting into practice the beautiful prayer of St. Teresa of Avila:  

Christ has no body now but yours 
No hands, no feet on earth, but yours 
Yours are the eyes through which He looks 
Compassion on this world 
Yours are the feet with which He walks 
To do good 
Yours are the hands 
With which He blesses all the world 

Yours are the hands 
Yours are the feet 
Yours are the eyes 
You are His body 

Christ has no body now but yours 
No hands, no feet on earth, but yours 
Yours are the eyes through which He looks 
Compassion on this world 
Christ has no body now on earth 
But yours.