Tuesday of the Third Week of Easter

So they said to Jesus,

“Sir, give us this bread always.”
Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

Roman Catholic scholars generally agree that the Gospel of John is the most sacramental of the gospels. Although the baptism of Jesus is mentioned only in passing and there is no obvious narrative about the “institution” of the Eucharist, the teachings of the Fourth Gospel penetrate most deeply the heart of these mysteries. Beginning with the story of Jesus’ feeding five thousand in the wilderness, John 6 leads us to the Eucharist.

Steeped as we are in sacramental symbols, Catholics intuitively understand this teaching. Many of us made our First Communion upon attaining “the age of reason,” after our seventh birthday; and it was usually a very big deal. I remember dressing in a navy blue suit and feeling eagerness, joy and innocence as I approached that most sacred moment. Afterward a photographer lined us up on the altar with the pastor and teachers to record the day. Inevitably, one girl in the front row showed a huge scab on her knee. Then there was the party with cake and ice cream and all the relatives. My grandmother gave me a small statue of Mary which I kept for many years. It was just as sacred after one hand broke off as it was when I received it.

For a Catholic to receive Eucharist is to encounter Jesus. This is our most personal, intense and direct experience of him; and, of course, it is a communal event. Eventually, as we mature and our consciousness attains adulthood, we come to understand him as friend, companion and confidante. We will watch as he is born, listen as he teaches, walk with him to Calvary and rise with him at Easter. And we will meet him face to face during the Mass.

Many of us will search for the Lord outside the church, missing the Sunday Mass to sleep in, read the newspaper or recover from last night’s party. Some victims of violence or sexual abuse will feel despised by the Lord and exiled from the Church as they come to terms with their trauma. Some will be shattered by the experience of war, wondering how a Good God can abide evil behavior in his world.

Returning slowly some will reach a personal “bottom” and finally realize they deserve better than this. They might have remarkable experiences of God’s love at meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous or other support groups. They will remember that Christ died to save them and finally understand what salvation means. They believe in hell because they have been there. And always there will be that gravitational pull back to “full communion” with the Church.  Like that place at the dining room table, it’s where they belong.

Personally, I passed through that crisis as a priest and I remember the Eucharist as an anchor in an emotional storm at sea. I didn’t know why I was there or what I should think – it was better not to think – but I was always there. I wanted to be there; I had to be there; but I did not know why. Eventually, when the storm had passed, I knew my cross was his and he had never abandoned me. I kept faith with the Eucharist only because He kept faith with me. 

For the Catholic the Eucharist is real food and real drink. It's not just a metaphor about Jesus; it's as necessary as food and drink and air.