Eighteenth Sunday In Ordinary Time

 Lectionary: 112

Taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing, broke the loaves,

and gave them to the disciples, who in turn gave them to the crowds.

They all ate and were satisfied, and they picked up the fragments left over—

twelve wicker baskets full.

Those who ate were about five thousand men, not counting women and children.

When skeptics hear of our Catholic belief in the Most Blessed Sacrament, they often ask the most irrelevant questions, like the question the Jews asked in John, chapter six, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" Today the question might be phrased in pseudo-scientific language like, "How can the molecules of bread be the flesh and blood of a man?" If they can find someone willing to desecrate God's Gift, they might even subject the Bread of Heaven to DNA testing and prove that it's only wheat. But other people will tell you his blood type!

Because they are determined not to hear the Truth or obey God’s word, they do not allow the real challenge of the Lord’s invitation to enter their minds or penetrate their hearts. Distracted by nonsense, they ignore passages like today’s gospel completely; and overlook the meanings which lie hidden in plain sight.

Some people also wonder about the apparent "ubiquity" of the Lord’s Body and Blood; “How can his body appear in every Catholic Church and during every Catholic Mass in so many places at once? Are those wafers and particles different pieces of Jesus? And which piece did I get?”

Obviously, they’re silly questions but they can find their answer by reading, and being astonished that the Lord comes to every nation in the world, in many languages of the human race, as the Savior of every man, woman, and child. And although he appeals to everyone, he knows and speaks personally to each one. This too is a mystery impenetrable to human sociology, psychology, and anthropology; but profoundly real for everyone who believes in Jesus Christ the Son of God.

When I hear or recite the Words of Consecration, “This is my body which is given up for you,” I pay more attention to the experiential words, “my body;” than to the ontological word is. On the night before he died, this man’s body was vigorous, young, and healthy. But shortly after he spoke those words, his living body would be taken, tortured, and suspended naked on a cross, subject to the burning heat of the sun, the parching wind, creeping, crawling, biting, stinging insects, and carnivorous birds which might pick at his eyes and tear his flesh even before he died. This body which is given for you will be drained of blood, exhausted, and dead in a few hours.

When the Lord consecrates bread and wine he consecrates his flesh, bones, body and blood; they are one and the same thing in a sacrificial consecration.

When he says, “Do this in memory of me!” he calls us, and draws us into that moment; and he consecrates that moment for all time. You and I today are present in that sacred, eternal moment which occurred one night in Jerusalem. By the count of human days and hours, it happened a long time ago; in God’s time, it is now – here and now.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Yes, I was there; and I am there when they nail him to the tree; I am there when he commands me to eat his flesh and drink his blood. You and I are with him and in him when they lay his lifeless body in the tomb. We die with him that we might rise with him when he says, “Do this in memory of me.”

These are mysteries which, as Saint Paul days, were hidden in ages past. The Prophet Isaiah, many centuries before, wrote of that moment and this mystery:

All you who are thirsty,

come to the water!

You who have no money,

come, receive grain and eat;

Come, without paying and without cost,

drink wine and milk!

Why spend your money for what is not bread;

your wages for what fails to satisfy?

With those words, Isaiah told us the Body and Blood of the Lord would be given freely as the Lord eagerly approached his death in Jerusalem. Saint Peter remembered the enormous price of our freedom. He says,

...you were ransomed from your futile conduct, handed on by your ancestors, not with perishable things like silver or gold; but with the precious blood of Christ as of a spotless unblemished lamb. (1 Peter 1:18)

His disciples had a glimpse of that approaching mystery when Jesus multiplied the loaves and fish and fed an enormous hungry crowd in the wilderness.

The Wonder of the Most Blessed Sacrament has been fully revealed to us but it remains beyond our human comprehension. It’s not simply that we cannot understand it. Most of us don’t understand Max Planck’s quantum theory or Einstein’s relativity; the Eucharist is not a matter of explanation and education. We cannot comprehend it but we do apprehend it by faith.

With reverent gestures like genuflections, bowing, the sign of the cross, and beating the breast we apprehend -- we intuit-- the near approach of God. By daily prayer, weekly or daily attendance at Mass, and frequent confession, we recognise the demands which the Lord’s sacrifice makes on us. We might not be crucified but we do take up our crosses and carry them as we follow the Lord.

We’ve come a long way from asking, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” We have no time for silly questions about blood types and bleeding hosts. We are closer to that moment when we must surrender every doubt and skepticism; along with our preferences, attitudes, opinions, beliefs, and freedom to receive the freedom of the children of God.

The Lord is worthy of our absolute and total love and we place our lives in his hands. And we know we speak the truth when we say,

“Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.

(The Franciscan feast of the Portiuncula is not celebrated this year.)