When I was growing up (admittedly a long time ago),
Sunday was a special day. In my family,
we all went to Mass, of course. But
we did that separately, at different times throughout the morning. What we all
did together as a family came after that,
in the early afternoon - Sunday dinner, which was intended to be special in every way. Now that I am old and sadly distant from
all that, I look back fairly fondly on those Sunday family dinners, for what
they represented - or at least what I nostalgically want them to represent.
Corpus Christi celebrates a very different sort of Sunday meal, every bit as
important, indeed so much more so, since it takes us beyond the narrow,
exclusive bonds of family, creating a new and more completely inclusive
community where we all eat and are
satisfied.
But, of course, we are not all satisfied, certainly
not all of us all the time, which is one reason we need to come back, again and
again, week after week. After all, even those miraculously fed on that faraway
Gospel lake shore were only satisfied for at best a little while, before they
got hungry again. Saint Paul’s account of what Jesus
did at that Last Supper, the oldest written recollection of that most famous
meal in all of human history, says nothing about being satisfied. Rather it
looks back to the past , commanding us to eat and drink in ritual remembrance
of Jesus’ death, and looks ahead to the future, proclaiming Jesus’ death until
he comes again, which is, of course, what we do every time we come to Mass and
celebrate the Eucharist.
Established
in 1264, this feast of Corpus Christi highlights the Church’s devotion to
Christ’s presence in the Eucharist. According to tradition, two 13th-century
contemporaries, the Dominican Friar St. Thomas Aquinas and the Franciscan Friar St. Bonaventure, began composing texts
for the feast. But, when Bonaventure visited Thomas and read the antiphon
Thomas had composed for today’s Evening Prayer, he threw his own manuscript
into the fire.
Thus
it is the words of Saint Thomas that summarize what we celebrate today – and
every day – in the Eucharistic sacrifice: “O Sacred
Banquet, in which Christ is consumed, the memory of His Passion is renewed, the
soul is filled with grace and a pledge of future glory is given us.”
The custom most associated with Corpus Christi is
the procession in which the Blessed Sacrament is carried in a monstrance - if
possible outside through the local streets with great solemnity and communal
festivity, as a public witness of the Church’s belief in and devotion to the
sacrament of the Eucharist. Recent popes have revived the custom at the papal
level, celebrating Mass at Rome’s Cathedral, the Papal Basilica of St. John
Lateran, and then going from there in procession with the Blessed Sacrament up
the Esquiline Hill to the Papal Basilica of St. Mary Major, where the
procession concludes with Benediction outdoors.
In
1984, I got to attend a particularly impressive Corpus Christi procession in
Montreal, Quebec, where we followed the Blessed Sacrament through the narrow
streets of the Old City to the historic basilica of Notre Dame. But perhaps the
most impressive, certainly the most moving,
outdoor eucharistic
procession I’ve ever attended was not on Corpus Christi but the one that takes
place every summer afternoon at the shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes in southern
France. After being exposed all day under a tent, the Blessed Sacrament is
carried at the end of a procession of sick pilgrims and their caregivers to the
massive underground basilica. Empty, the basilica (the only structure large
enough to contain the vast number of pilgrims present on any given day)
resembles an ugly underground parking lot. Crowded to capacity for afternoon
Benediction,
however, the effect is awesome – awesome in the sense the Patriarch Jacob used the word in Genesis: How awesome is this place! This is none
other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven; and it shall be called
the court of God [Genesis 28:17]. It is no accident that verse is traditionally used in
the Mass for the Consecration a church.
We
build and maintain churches to be “awesome,” so that “awesome” things can
happen there - so that the community of faithful we call the Church (with a
capital “C”), can assemble to pray, to hear God’s word, and to celebrate the
sacraments, especially the Eucharist in which Christ is present in a unique way
in his Body and Blood. Prefigured by the bread and wine offered by the priest and
king Melchizedek [Genesis
14:18-20],
the Eucharist was established as a sacrament by Christ at the Last Supper [1 Corinthians 11:23-26], and now is celebrated
daily on our altar and permanently
reserved for adoration in the Tabernacle.
Today’s celebration is meant to highlight all of that, all the while inviting
us to a deeper devotion to and recognition of the Real Presence of Christ in the
Eucharist. It is that Real Presence which is so vividly celebrated in the traditional Corpus Christi
procession, in which the Church ritually acts out the reality of Christ coming
into our world, walking our streets, so to speak.
In
the Eucharist – and in the life we share together as Christ’s Church united by
and through the Eucharist we celebrate – Christ comes among us. And he remains
with us, blessing the streets we and he walk together, nourishing our ordinary
and sometimes somewhat messed up lives with the real, flesh-and-blood presence of God
himself, who invites us to eat again and again until we have more than enough.
Homily for Corpus Christi, Immaculate Conception Church, Knoxville, TN, June 23, 2019.
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