Friday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 277
Habemus Papam! 
Let us pray for Pope Leo XIV, who is now a citizen of the entire world, and our Vicar of Christ.

The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying,
“How can this man give us his Flesh to eat?”
Jesus said to them,
“Amen, amen, I say to you,
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.

 C ontroversy and conflict has accompanied the mystery of the Eucharist since the get-go. Church historians find the struggle to understand the Lord's meaning of this is my flesh, this is my blood, eat my flesh and drink my blood in the earliest documents and oldest liturgical books in our tradition. Many explanations were immediately recognized and condemned as heretical while the faithful core of the Church has insisted upon the most literal reading of the phrases. 

Enlightened science has attempted to disprove the Lord's words and the Church's teachings. But, while the majority of Catholics dismissed their research and experiments as bone-headed nonsense, some have pointed to their occasional findings as proven Eucharistic Miracles.  

The simplest explanation, and easiest advice to follow, is simply, "The Lord says it! It is so! Who am I to question God's words, meaning, intent, or authority?"

But we do well to ponder the Lord's words and discuss the Real Presence for they lead us to deeper appreciation of the Most Blessed Sacrament. Rather than be distracted by pseudo-scientific microscopy or laughable forensic hematology, the Real Presence invites us to be present to the Lord, one another, ourselves, and life itself. 

My mother sometimes called upstairs, "What's going on up there? You're being way too quiet!" We had to be reminded that she was in the house and listening, and had better consider -- or reconsider -- whatever we were doing in the light of her presence. If she rarely came upstairs, she still had considerable authority over that part of the house.

One meaning of presence is an authority that cannot be dismissed or ignored. It may be the authority of someone dangerous or benevolent, powerful or needy, but it cannot be ignored in any case. The Lord's Real Presence is also reactive and responsive. Though we cannot see, touch, hear, or smell his physical presence, we may and should ask for his concern and guidance. 

We do especially well if we ask the Lord to reveal our sins and "lead us not into temptation." We are too familiar with our concupiscence -- a fascination, curiosity, and tendency to evil -- for Satan's marketing minions remind us continually of it. The Lord reminds us of our dignity and courage in the face of Evil's relentless insults. 

Our practices of Sunday Mass and daily prayer, and of wearing and carrying tactile reminders of the Lord's mercy also remind us of his kindly authority. While Orthodox Church decorate their walls with icons -- windows into eternity -- western Catholics and Protestants place statues throughout our churches and homes. We may often glance toward them, or pause and gaze upon them, and engage in conversations with the Saint or deity. 

Recently, a friend created a beautiful disc with the Tetragrammaton on it. I place it in the center of the altar, before the small crucifix, to bring the awareness of God's merciful authority to mind. 

Referring to the Eucharist, Catholics use the word symbol with careful circumspection. God's presence is more than "just a symbol." The word is useful only if I remember that my body is a symbol of me. I can no more dismiss the symbolic meaning of the human body than I can dismiss the presence of God in my life. If I demean the presence of God I demean myself! I objectify the body -- my own or another's -- as a commodity to be used, bought, sold, wasted, tattooed, displayed, surgically altered, manipulated, terminated, or discarded. 

As we eat and drink the Most Blessed Sacrament we learn to treat ourselves with the deepest respect, for the Lord Jesus has died that I might live and flourish; that I might eat, drink, dance, sing, and embrace others as family, friends, and loved ones. His body and blood lead us into life.