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.
We can suppose that Saint Paul had more than an unexpected encounter with a heavenly intruder on the road to Damascus. His metanoia was also an intellectual realization that decked him. What had made no sense to him suddenly fell into place. All of his training in Greek and Hebrew philosophies coalesced around the stories he'd heard about Jesus.
To the bigoted Pharisee, locked into an ideological reading of the Jewish religion and scriptures, the Gospel of Jesus's death, resurrection, and divinity was more than nonsense; it was an affront to everything he knew and believed.
But to the young Jewish scholar, blessed with a solid foundation in his religious tradition and a quick, intuitive mind, the Gospel opened the traditional stories of Abraham, Moses, and David. It clicked like a key to an ancient, overlooked, and forgotten vault.
In that moment he heard the voice of Isaiah's suffering servant, "Why do you persecute me?" He had no choice but to seek out Ananias and ask for Baptism. Up to that moment, he had taken his place on the wrong side of history.
We hear in today's gospel decree about eating flesh and drinking blood a compelling intensity like that Paul heard on the Damascus road. It makes perfect sense! But it's hard to explain. We must obey and are happy to obey despite the persistent doubts and the loud, arrogant dismissals of a skeptical crowd around us.
I often think of Flannery O'Connor's blunt declaration of faith in the Eucharist to a midnight soiree in Mary McCarthy's fashionable New York apartment, "If it's only a symbol, to hell with it."
Some will still argue that it is a symbol, and I'll agree insofar as my body is a representation of me. And yet my body is unique. There may be other symbols of me -- photographs, drawings, sculptures! (?) -- but none are as immediate as the Presence I bring to my body.
And, to those with the eyes of faith, the Eucharistic forms of bread and wine are far more compelling than a human body. We genuflect; we bow down; we worship as the women did before the Risen Lord.
In fact, the disciples on another road -- to Emmaus -- failed to recognize the Lord's physical body but did recognize him in the Breaking of Bread!
Saint John tells us that many disciples walked away. They could not accept it. We need not judge them; that is beyond our province. But we know we must remain. We'll hear Peter speak to the Lord for you and me tomorrow,
“Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.”
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.