Homily: Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

I've embedded a video of my homily for the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. This homily was preached on the Saturday vigil of the Solemnity, 22 June 2019. The posted text of the homily follows the video.

Readings: Gn 14:18-20; Ps 110; 1 Cor 11:23-26; Lk 9:11-17
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Today we celebrate the beautiful Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. We used to call it Corpus Christi -- the Body of Christ -- and many of us will probably continue to call it that, if only out of habit. But the Church, in her wisdom, changed its name to reflect more accurately the reality of what happened at Calvary and the Last Supper, and what will soon happen here on this altar. Though the Blood of Christ was always implied in was never particularly affirmed in this particular feast. Now it is, and this is good. Yes, it's good to celebrate this feast, but really at every Mass we celebrate the Body and Blood of Christ.

Some years ago in my previous parish on Cape Cod, I was enjoying the coffee hour after the 9 o'clock Mass. As I admired a new mural of the Last Supper in the parish hall, a parishioner standing beside me said, "Wouldn't it have been wonderful to have been there?"

Of course I agreed with her. Who wouldn't? But in truth we don't have to imagine. Because every time you and I participate at Mass, we are, in essence, truly present with Jesus, and with Peter, John, James, Matthew, with all the Apostles in that upper room in Jerusalem. But that's not all. We're also truly present at the foot of the cross.

Now how can this be? How can we be in the upper room and on Calvary when we're obviously gathered together here in this little corner of Florida 2,000 years after the events we commemorate? Quite simply, because Jesus promised us that this is true. And then He sealed that promise -- God's New Covenant - with His own Body and Blood and confirmed it with His Resurrection.

As St. Paul reminded us in the second reading, he "received from the Lord what He handed on to" us, and "Every time...you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until He comes" [1 Cor 11:23,26].

For it was on the Cross that Jesus gave all of humanity its greatest gift. Through His death, and the shedding of that precious Blood, he redeemed us from our sins and opened the gates of eternal life. Now that's quite a gift!

And at the Last Supper, that very first Mass described by Paul and in each of the synoptic gospels, Jesus anticipated His sacrificial death on the cross the following day. And by doing so, He gave us another gift, the Eucharist.

Do you recall the words? They're the same words that Father Cromwell will utter a few moments from now.

"This is my Body which will be given up for you."

"This is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins." [Lk 22:19-20].

Notice that Jesus didn't say, "This is bread and wine, symbols of my body and blood." 

No, He was quite explicit. "This is my body...This is the chalice of my blood." And with these words, Jesus fulfills the promise He made to the disciples almost a year before when He told them:

"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food and my blood true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him" [Jn 6:54-56].

Many of the disciples left Him and that point. Weak in faith, they were unable to accept such a teaching. Only the Apostles and a few faithful ones remained. Why? Peter answered this when he said:

"Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life." [Jn 6:68].

And yet the Apostles really didn't understand these words until much later, until after the events in the upper room and on Calvary and at the tomb. Only then did His promise, and His command "Do this in remembrance of me" [Lk 22:19] reveal His intention, His gift of the Eucharist, the sacrifice of the Mass.

The Mass is not simply a memorial, like a tombstone. Neither is it merely a repetition of the sacrifice on the Cross. As St. Paul told us, Jesus died "once for all" [Rom 6:10]. His sacrifice on the cross is sufficient for our salvation. 

The Mass is a unique kind of memorial in which Jesus is again present just as He was on the Cross - just as present as you and I are here today. It's the sacrifice of Christ offered on the Cross and remaining ever present.

Indeed, the sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Mass are a single sacrifice. The work of our salvation is still being carried out through each Mass, through the power of Christ's death, through the power of the Resurrection.

As the Second Vatican Council instructs us: the Eucharist is a cornerstone of our faith, "the source and summit of Christian life." But how many Catholics today truly believe this? 

Before we moved to The Villages 15 years ago, my wife, Diane, taught fourth grade at our local parish school in Massachusetts. One day, during a lesson on the New Testament, she asked her class to name some of Jesus' miracles. Lots of hands immediately shot up. One by one the children spoke of Jesus curing lepers, the blind, the lame. One mentioned the multiplication of the loaves and fishes; another the miracle of the water and wine at Cana. And one child brought up the miracle of the Resurrection.

But then one boy said, "Every day, all over the world, Jesus performs a miracle when acting through his priests he changes bread and wine into his Body and Blood." How did Jesus put it? 

"Father, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike" [Mt 11:25].

We can, in fact, be more certain of the real presence of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist than we can of anything in our lives. Not because of the faith of the Church, or the faith of the priest, or even our own faith; but because of our Lord's promise made 2,000 years ago. As man he promised, and from heaven as the Son of God he keeps his promise. The Eucharist is and remains his gift.

How sad for those who deny the Eucharist, and reject his gift, his promise, his love. For out of His love He provides for His continuing presence among us, letting us share in its fruits. 

The Eucharist turns us from sin and intensifies our attachment to the things of God, and God Himself.

It plunges us into the life of Christ, deepening our commitment to his Church and its work.

Through this communion we are one with all who are in Christ, especially the suffering and the poor, who become the object of our special love. 

So, even as we celebrate the bread and wine transformed into the Body and Blood of Christ, we celebrate its transforming power in our lives. We celebrate the desire to serve that was born in our hearts: a desire that has brought us to the present moment, a desire to be a true Christian, another Christ in the world.

"Do this in memory of me" [Lk 22:19].

As Jesus gave up his life for us, so too must we, his disciples, give up our lives in service to him and to our brothers and sisters.

St. Ignatius of Loyola called the Holy Eucharist the greatest proof of God's Love. Remembering that love, we might well ask ourselves:

What should I do for Christ, who gave everything for me?

Audio Homily - Solemnity of Body and Blood of Christ

Our IT people at the parish recorded my homily last Sunday and gave me a copy. Apparently it was supposed to be a video recording but some glitch left the video screen pitch black. And so my voice comes from out of the darkness. 

Anyway, if you liked the printed version that I posted a few days ago -- click here: Homily -- you can listen to the audio version below. Just don't expect to see anything.

...and don't forget, God loves you in spite of yourself.

Homily: Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

Readings: Dt 8:2-3,14-16; Ps 147; 1 Cor 10:16-17; Jn 6:51-58

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First of all...Happy Father's Day to all the fathers here today. I know, being a good father is a tough job, but somebody has to do it. And don't sneak out early or you'll miss the special blessing for fathers at the end of Mass.

Speaking of fathers and sons, some years ago, my elder son, who's into genealogy, asked me to look through my boxes of family documents for anything of interest. One of the first things I came across was the 65-year-old certificate from my First Holy Communion. Talk about a forgotten relic!

It provides only basic information: name, date, the parish, the pastor, all handwritten. Most of the certificate is a picture of a young boy and girl, dressed in their First Communion finery, kneeling at the altar rail. Remember altar rails? Standing behind the rail in the sanctuary, holding a host in one hand and a chalice in the other is Jesus, with two angels posed prayerfully behind Him.

It's a pious scene, a sweet scene, the sort of scene that today might bring about a few condescending smiles, even some cynicism. Yes, such naiveté is fine for children, but we adults...well, ours is a more sophisticated faith.

But as I continued to gaze at that picture I found myself transported from our adult world of pragmatism to a very different world...to a world where miracles abound and God's hand touches all of creation...to a world of real faith in which the truth of a theological mystery like the Eucharist is readily accepted. I knew then that a world in which a child can be filled with wonder over God's presence in the Eucharist - that this is the real world. I also realized how misleading, how utterly false our grown-up world can be.

Instead of marveling at God's wondrous gifts, we spend our lives worrying about and fretting over every conceivable worldly thing. We worry about money and jobs and retirement and health. We worry about our children and our grandchildren, about their education, their jobs, and their worldly success. We worry about impressing others, about our friendships, about the clothes we wear, the house we live in, the vacations we take.

Yes, our place in this world so monopolizes our lives, we even define ourselves by how we earn a living. When someone asks "What do you do?" - or for most of us, "What did you do?" - we provide the standard answers: an attorney...a mechanic...an engineer...a sales rep...a teacher...a beautician...a mechanic...a policeman.

How many of us have ever answered, "I'm a Christian, a child of God seeking salvation"?

And why not? After all, that's your true vocation; that's why God created you in the first place. He didn't create you for a job that pays the bills, or promises a nice pension in retirement.

Yes, we live lives littered with all these important and urgent things, concerns so crucial that when placed alongside salvation they become...well, absolutely trivial. 

We ignore the mystery of God's creation and come to believe we can control our little piece of the world...until we're confronted with the stark reality of an illness, or an accident, or the death of one we love.

In our growing-up we've lost that childlike sense of wonder, the capacity to see and marvel at the mystery that fills our world. Lacking this we fail to recognize the face of God even when He's standing right before us.

This is why Jesus instructs us to be like the child, to be childlike, not childish. He wants us to reclaim that wonderful gift of faith He bestowed on us when we were children. How did Jesus put it?

"Father, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike" [Mt 11:25].

He wants us to believe as we once did, and to love as we once did. Brothers and sisters, God created us to love Him, and to serve Him by loving and serving others, and to spend our lives doing just that.

This is how we live our faith, the same faith I saw in the eyes of the children in that picture. Kneeling to receive Jesus in the Eucharist - Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity - they don't see a mere piece of bread. No, they see Jesus Christ standing before them, loving them, offering them the greatest gift he can offer: Himself.

Contrast them with those in today's Gospel passage, people who had lost their sense of childlike wonder and, when confronted with Jesus' words about the Eucharist, denied the mystery of God's power. Quarrelling among themselves, they ask, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" [Jn 6:52]

"This man..." They had witnessed miracle after miracle, acts only God could perform, but Jesus was still simply, "this man."

But Jesus won't let them take refuge in their cynical, adult ways. He forces the issue, repeating and expanding His claims.

"...unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him" [Jn 6:53-56].

These were hard words for that incredulous crowd, just as they are for so many today. On that day in Galilee, John tells us, after hearing these words, "many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer accompanied him" [Jn 6:66]. Just as many leave the Church today and the very Bread of Life because they cannot accept Jesus' Real Presence in the Eucharist. If they accepted it, they would never leave.

It's just a symbol, they say. Well, if it's just a symbol it's meaningless. Read the words of John's Gospel [Jn 6] once again...

No symbol can fill you with divine life.

No symbol can give you eternal life.

No symbol can raise you on the last day.

No symbol can bring you into communion with Jesus where He is in you and you in Him.

How did St. Paul put it in our second reading? 

"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]

And later in that same First Letter to the Corinthians, St. Paul warns not to receive Jesus in the Eucharist unworthily: 

"Therefore whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord unworthily will have to answer for the body and blood of the Lord"  [1 Cor 11:27].

We don't have to answer to God for a mere symbol. We must answer for the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.

This is what we celebrate today, Jesus' redemptive sacrifice, the beautiful Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ. We used to call it simply Corpus Christi - the Body of Christ - and many of us will probably continue to call it that, if only out of habit.

But in her wisdom the Church changed its name to reflect more accurately the reality of what happened at Calvary and at the Last Supper, and what will soon happen on this altar at St. Vincent de Paul Church. For it is the Blood of the New and Eternal Covenant that was shed from the Body of Christ on the Cross.

In many places when this feast is celebrated, Catholics will process through the streets carrying the gift of the Body and Blood of Christ to a disbelieving world. In the same way, you and I are called to take Him - "the Way, the Truth, and the Life" [Jn 14:6] - to a world searching for meaning and hope, a world begging for God's love and Presence.

We are called to be like joyful children once again, ever amazed at God's gift of life, fully aware that we are "fearfully, wonderfully made" [Ps 139:14], and thankful for the miraculous gift of Christ's Real Presence to nourish our hearts and our spirits.

When we gather for Mass, we become one with Christ, transformed by history's deepest act of love. We become one with Christ in the starving child who aches for a piece of bread, in the victim of violence lying in the emergency room, in the young Marine dying of wounds in Afghanistan, in the African mother whose daughter was kidnapped by terrorists.

Did you know that all this happens here at Mass? We join our souls to Christ and offer our bodies with his on the Cross for the healing of the entire world. We do it for the salvation of the world, for the salvation of souls so that God's "will be done on earth as it is in heaven" [Mt 6:10]

This is what happens at Mass. The sacrifice of Christ - Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity - saves us anew. No words can explain it. But a child can understand it.

Homily: Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

Readings: Ex 24:3-8; Ps 116; Heb 9:11-15; Mk 14:12-16, 22, 26

Some years ago, back when I worked for a living, I was in a conference room at work chatting with another Catholic before a meeting. Our conversation somehow got around to the upcoming celebration of Corpus Christi. A colleague, who had obviously overheard part of our conversation, interrupted and asked, “Why did the Catholic Church name this feast of yours after a city in Texas?” She really did. As you might imagine, the answer took a little explaining.

Yes, we used to call it Corpus Christi -- the Body of Christ -- and many of us will probably continue to call it that, if only out of habit. But the Church rightly changed its name to reflect the reality of what happened at Calvary and at the Last Supper: the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. It also celebrates what will soon happen here on this altar at St. Vincent de Paul Church.

In a way, of course, every Mass is a true celebration of the Body and Blood of Christ. This was made clear to me some years ago at a parish on Cape Cod where I was assigned. At a Sunday coffee hour after Mass I was admiring a new mural of the Last Supper in the parish hall when a parishioner standing beside me made the comment, "Wouldn't it have been wonderful to have been there?"

Of course I agreed with her. What Christian wouldn't? Just imagine being able to share that remarkable evening with Jesus and the Apostles. But the truth of the matter is we don't have to imagine. When we participate at Mass, we are, in essence, truly present with Jesus, and with Peter and the other Apostles in that upper room in Jerusalem. But we’re also truly present at the foot of the cross.

Now how can this be? How can we be in that upper room and on Calvary when we are obviously gathered together here in this little corner of the United States almost 2,000 years after the events we commemorate? Quite simply, because Jesus promised us that this is true. And Jesus sealed his promise -- God's new covenant -- with his own body and blood and confirmed it with his resurrection.

As we heard in our second reading from Hebrews, “…how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God” [Heb 9:14]. Yes, it was on the cross that Jesus gave all of humanity its greatest gift. Through his death, and the shedding of that precious blood, he redeemed us from our sins and opened the gates of eternal life.

At the Last Supper, that first Mass described in our Gospel reading, Jesus anticipated his sacrificial death on the cross the following day. And by doing so, He gave us another gift, the Eucharist. In a moment Father will utter the same words that Jesus spoke that night:

"This is my body which will be given up for you." [Lk 2219]

"This is the chalice of my blood, the blood of the new and eternal covenant which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins." [Mt 26:27-28]

Notice Jesus doesn't say, "This bread and wine are mere symbols of my body and blood." No, he's quite explicit. "This is my body...This is the chalice of my blood." And with these words, Jesus fulfills the promise he made to the disciples almost a year before when he told them:

"Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food and my blood true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him" [Jn 6:54-56].
Many disciples left him then. Weak in faith, they could not to accept such a teaching. Only the Apostles and a few faithful ones remained. Why? Peter gave the answer: "Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life."

The Apostles accepted Jesus' words on faith, but didn’t understand them until much later, until after the upper room, after Calvary, after the tomb, until after the Holy Spirit’s arrival at Pentecost. Only then did his promise, and his command "Do this in memory of me" [Lk 22:19] reveal his intention, his gift of the Eucharist, the sacrifice of the Mass.

The Mass is not just a memorial, like a tombstone, or a mere repetition of the sacrifice on the Cross. Yes, Jesus died "once for all" [Heb 7:27] His sacrifice on the cross is sufficient for our salvation. No, the Mass is something much greater. It’s a special and unique kind of memorial in which Jesus is again present just as he was on the Cross, just as present as you and I are in this church. It’s the sacrifice of Christ offered "once for all" on the cross and remaining ever present.

The sacrifice of Christ and the sacrifice of the Mass are, in fact, a single sacrifice. The work of our salvation is still being carried out at each Mass, through the power of the crucifixion, the power of the Resurrection. But how many of us truly believe this?

A poll taken not long ago claimed that only 30% of Catholics believe what the Church has always taught: Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist. And yet this teaching is a cornerstone of our faith – as the Fathers of Vatican II said, “The Eucharist is the source and summit of Christian life.”

Before we moved to Florida earlier this year, my wife, Diane, taught fourth grade at our local parish school in Massachusetts. One day, during a lesson on the New Testament, she asked her class to name some of Jesus' miracles. Hands shot up and one by one the children spoke of Jesus curing lepers, the blind, the lame. One mentioned the multiplication of the loaves and fishes; another the miracle of the water and wine at Cana. And one child brought up the miracle of the Resurrection. Then one boy said, "Every day, all over the world, Jesus performs a miracle when through his priests he changes bread and wine into his body and blood."

How did Jesus put it? "Father, for although you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned you have revealed them to the childlike" [Mt 11:25]. Indeed, we can be more certain of the Real Presence of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist than we can of anything in our lives. Not because of the faith of the Church, or the faith of the priest, or even our faith as individuals; but because of Our Lord's promise 2,000 years ago.

As one of us, He promised, and as the Son of God he keeps his promise. The Eucharist remains his gift, a gift you celebrate when you say “Amen” – “Yes, I believe” -- when receiving His Body and Blood at Communion. How sad for those who don’t believe, who can’t say, “Amen.” By denying the Eucharist they reject his gift, his promise, his love. For it is his love that prompted Our Lord to provide for his continuing presence among us.

On this holy feast Catholics process through the streets carrying the gift of Christ’s Body and Blood to a disbelieving world. In the same way, you and I are called to carry Him to others, taking Him – the Way, the Truth, and the Life – to a world in search of meaning, a world in need of real hope, a world begging for God’s love.

We must again be like the joyful children we once were, ever amazed at God’s gift of life, fully aware that we are fearfully, wonderfully made, and thankful that God has given us the miracle of His Real Presence to nourish our hearts and our spirits. When we gather for Mass, we become one with Christ, transformed by history’s deepest act of love. We become one with Christ in the starving child who aches for a piece of bread, in the victim of violence lying in the emergency room, in the young Marine dying of wounds in Afghanistan, in the African mother whose blood is poisoned with HIV.

Did you know that this is what happens here at Mass? We join our souls to Christ and with one another, with the universal Church throughout the world, offering our bodies with his on the Cross. We do it for the salvation of the world, for the salvation of souls so that God’s “will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”

This is what happens at Mass. The sacrifice of Christ saves us anew. No words can explain it. But a child understands it.