The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

 Lectionary: 169

...the Twelve approached him and said, "Dismiss the crowd
so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions;for we are in a deserted place here."
He said to them,
"Give them some food yourselves."

It's been almost a year since many thousand Catholics took part in processions toward Indiana, and several thousand arrived in Indianapolis to honor the Most Blessed Sacrament. In that year we have seen a remarkable upsurge of adults entering or re-entering the Catholic Church. I have to suppose the two incidents are not coincidental. If the blood of martyrs is the seed of the Church, the Physical Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist is our nourishment – both food and drink. 

I'll forgo the temptation to "explain" the inexplicable with six-syllable words like transubstantiation. I find all the explanation I need in two sentences: "This is my body!" and "This is my blood." If the Lord says it, I believe it, and I need no explanation. 

We believe that the real presence of Jesus in the blessed Sacrament under the form of bread and wine means that he is physically present with us. This is not just a spiritual presence as he might be with people who pray in his name in City Hall, a classroom, the woods, or on a beach. It means he is with us physically in our church, in the tabernacle and during the Mass. And it means that we must be physically present with him when we celebrate our Sunday mass. Believing in Jesus' real presence means we must be here.

There are dozens of ways to describe today's Brave New World of Crises and Catastrophes, but I will suggest another: our loss of presence. We're so busy being everywhere, attending to everything, and so afraid of missing out, that we can hardly be anywhere or pay attention to anything. People rapt in their smart phones ignore spouses, children, parents, neighbors; and they trip over street corners. Exhausted by the intrusions of 24/7 news and social media, weary people come to Church on Sunday just for peace and quiet. They cannot muster the energy to pay attention, or say Amen to the prayers – much less sing the praises of God. Catholics struggle to look up when a priest commands them to, "Behold the Lamb of God...!"  

When the poet T.S.Eliot, realized he was distracted from distraction by distraction, he began to look more deeply at the world and at his faith in God. He finished his poem, Preludes with:

I am moved by fancies that are curled

Around these images, and cling:

The notion of some infinitely gentle

Infinitely suffering thing.

Jesus takes hold of our hearts, takes us out of this world, and gives us the willing courage to turn our attention to his Real Physical Presence in our world. We, in our turn, must be present – really present! – to the infinitely gentle, Infinitely suffering Body and Blood of Jesus. 

Through our practices of prayer and penance, the Lord cleans the windows of our soul and we become more willing to be with him in this time and in this place. Despite the suspicion, distrust, and fear of many people, we’re here! And we’re glad to be here. Our marches from San Francisco, California, Lake Itasca, Minnesota, New Haven, Connecticut: and Brownsville, Texas showed the nation that we are still here, and we love it here.

Recently I was struck by a reflection of Simone Weil. She wrote: 

The world is the only reality available to us, and if we do not love it in all its terror, we are sure to end up loving the imaginary, our own dreams and self-deceits, or the empty promises of politicians." 

Simone Weil knew God loves the world absolutely, and as it is. God does not look for things to find in the world that are lovable, and ignore the rest. He loves the world entirely, as it is, and us as we are, absolutely, without hesitation, without regret, or reluctance.

Ms. Weil believed in the Blessed Sacrament, and saw it as an enduring proof of God's unrestrained, unrestricted presence. 

And because God is in our world, we can see the world through the clear window of the Sacrament. Our world as it is –  is loved, blessed, beautiful, and – yes – sinful. 

But, like God, we should not be unduly distressed by evil. It's there in the daily news, and we find it in our hearts -- and are no longer surprised by that. The Lord our God has suffered deicide – the killing of God – the worst crime in human history – and he has changed that horror into blessing. He has conquered sin, evil, and death.

Finding that he remains with us in the Eucharist, we rise to the challenge as the Lord rose up to carry his cross. And when he had fallen and could rise no more, he was raised on the cross that we might see him; and through his dying eyes, see God's love for the world in all its terror.

Because our God loves the world, we can condemn its sin while loving its sinners. Our presence here is a testimony to the good in this world as it is, which as Simone Weil said, is the only reality available to us. No matter how passionately loyal the world might be to its dreams and deceits, we still love the world as it is, and hate its sin. 

Even when they call us bigoted, unimaginative, religious hypocrites, we cannot be persuaded to see the world their way. The Truth which we love does not permit us to think as they do. 

Last year’s pilgrimages to Indianapolis reminded Americans that we Catholics have not abandoned our faith despite what academics and entertainers and influencers may think. 

Since that celebration in Indianapolis, thousands of people entered or reentered the Church. Many young men have entered the seminary, and many young men were ordained priests. If the world is undergoing a rebirth of wonder and a reawakened fascination with the Catholic Church, we are eager to welcome them into the presence of God, to kneel with us, pray with us, and approach the altar with us; to eat the food and drink the Cup of Salvation, the Body and the Blood of Jesus Christ.