Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

 - May 26, 2016

 

Over the past weeks, we have celebrated various aspects of our Catholic identity. Because we are an Easter people, we rise to new life in and with Christ. We are a Spirit-filled people, empowered at Pentecost to bear witness to one Spirit manifested in a diversity of gifts. We are created in the image of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Spirit, “our God beyond, beside us, and within.” This Sunday's solemnity of Corpus Christi testifies to our identity as a Eucharistic people: that we who receive the Body and Blood of Christ are transformed in our very selves, to become Christ’s Body broken for others, his Blood poured out in love for all humanity.

This Sunday's readings express that profound mystery. In gratitude, Abram offers a tithe to Melchizedek, the “priest of God most high”; Paul recalls Jesus’ supreme gesture of love at the Last Supper, the gift of his Body and Blood; and finally, Jesus multiplies the loaves and fishes, feeding the multitudes from the meager supplies provided by the disciples. We look around us, and we see the overwhelming needs of the world. We become discouraged, we are tempted to give up even before we start. And still, Jesus challenges us: “you give them something to eat.” He invites us to bring forth the little we have, to share it generously. Then he takes it and works miracles with it. (Our food pantry volunteers experience this wonder on a regular basis!)

We are a people formed and shaped by the Eucharist. We are the hands, the feet, the presence of Jesus in the world: each member of the Body unique, precious, and irreplaceable, contributing to the good of all. So let us, on this feast of the Eucharist, bear visible witness to the divine presence, as we become more fully the One we receive: the Body of Christ!

Love’s Choice by Malcolm Guite

This bread is light, dissolving, almost air, a little visitation on my tongue,
A wafer-thin sensation, hardly there.
This taste of wine is brief in flavour, flung, a moment to the palate’s roof and fled, even its aftertaste a memory. Yet this is how He comes.
Through wine and bread Love chooses to be emptied into me.
He does not come in unimagined light too bright to be denied, too absolute for consciousness, too strong for sight, leaving the seer blind, the poet mute; Chooses instead to seep into each sense, to dye himself into experience