This is My Body: Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

Mk 14:12-16, 22-26

This solemnity marks seventeen years since my first Mass the day after ordination. That Mass was on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ

or Corpus Christi on 10 June 2007.  The date for Corpus Christi varies depending on the date of Easter. Today marks the sixteenth time I’ve preached through the lectionary. Tomorrow begins the 17^th journey through the liturgy and readings.

Jesuits are described as contemplatives in action.  Unlike our Trappist or Carthusian brothers who live in monastic cloister and silence, contemplating the word of God, we move around.  A lot.  We contemplate the same word to be sure, but generally while in motion. Jerome Nadal, an early Jesuit, described a Jesuit’s cloister as the highway.  Our work is mobile. That mobility partially drives our prayer life and our prayer life fuels our mobility, which can take us anywhere in the world, sometimes with very little notice.   

By the time I was ordained my mom had given up trying to keep track of addresses and phone numbers. Earlier she would carefully erase the old phone number before putting the new one in her address book.  By the time I was ordained she simply reused an old sticky note, knowing it would have to be replaced in a year or two.

Overall, action seems to trump contemplation most of the time.  A solemnity such as this one, however, reminds us of the contemplative side of our lives.  Not just Jesuit lives.  But all of our lives.  The lives of all believers.  This feast pulls us into meditation  for good reason. 

The Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ is an abstract feast that doesn’t recall an event.  The Church’s liturgical calendar is crammed with feasts— Christmas, Easter, The Ascension, The Annunciation, and the recently celebrated Visitation—that recall specific events in the history of salvation. 

They are specific moments in the history of the world  that include a story that is told and retold.  With just a little bit of effort we can place ourselves in the action

and participate in that history.   We can close our eyes and, through our  imagination, see the events  of those feasts unfold on an inner movie screen. 

On this Feast, however, we have to sit back in silence.  There is no script.  There is no “story line.”  We are forced to be less active for a little bit and more contemplative.  We contemplate the gift of Christ present; truly and substantially in the Eucharist.  It is almost overwhelming to consider that presence in the bread and wine we receive at Mass and adore on the altar. For some the real presence is a stumbling block.  They can understand symbol.  They can understand sign.  They can understand metaphor.  They simply can’t understand real. 

The gospel includes familiar words that you will hear in a few moments during the consecration of the bread and wine. The bread and wine that, from that moment on, are the true presence of the Body and Blood of Our Lord.  The Body and Blood of Christ  are unending sources of nourishment, necessary sustenance for our spiritual lives, and a source of comfort at all times. 

The only thing we can do on this feast is to sit in awe and contemplate the great gift of the Body and Blood of Christ, truly and substantially present in the Eucharist and in our lives.

________________________________

How time flies.  Seventeen years since I preached on this at my first Mass at Campion Center in Weston, MA.  The photos are from Horseneck Beach in Westport, MA down near the Rhode Island line.  A few years ago before some reorganization and covid I went down there occasionally to cover some Masses.  Sometimes I would stay over and go down to Horseneck with the camera.  This particular day was in late-November.  About six people on the large beach, walking or biking.  It was perfect.  

 

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD