Corpus Christi Year B
Exodus 24:3–8
Psalm 116:12–13, 15–16, 17–18
Hebrews 9:11–15
Mark 14:12–16, 22–26
Four years ago, many Catholics experienced a “famine” due to Covid lockdown. As a pastor having to close the doors of the church and being unable to gather for the celebration of Mass with the people I had served for 12 years, I felt keenly the absence of the community.
I had to update my understanding of technology using my cell phone and learning how to livestream on Facebook and YouTube. It was all very informal, but it connected me with my people. I developed a daily routine of celebrating the Mass of the day, downloading the recording, adding a few pictures and context by way of a movie program, and uploading the product for wider sharing. It was good to try to keep the community connected. But it was not an authentic experience of Eucharistic bonding.
Sadly, my time with the children of our school ended before the end-of-the-year celebrations. When a new bishop chose to move me to a new parish setting in that context, it was a real sadness to have a goodbye at a distance.
If we pay attention to the real anguish of such experiences, we ought to be able to understand better what the Eucharist is meant to be. It is not a mere obligation. It is truly a privilege and, now that the “fast” is over, it ought to be unthinkable to miss it. There was a small hope that this experience would serve to remind everyone of how central Eucharist is to the life of faith.
Most parish communities have been able to return to their former practices. But notably missing are many who used to be with us. Some have chosen to watch the celebrations online, but not to return to full engagement with the community. Others have let their attention be directed to other pursuits and projects. Worship in common has ceased to be important to them.
The Scriptures of the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ remind us of our very nature as the people of God. Moses set before the people of Israel who they were to be for God. “Taking the book of the covenant, he read it aloud to the people, who answered, ‘All that the LORD has said, we will heed and do.’” The psalmist prefigured the Eucharist and the commitment we make in worship in the cry: “I will take the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”
The Letter to the Hebrews, which highlights the priesthood of Jesus, points to the depth of the gift offered to us through the Eucharist. “For if the blood of goats and bulls and the sprinkling of a heifer’s ashes can sanctify those who are defiled so that their flesh is cleansed, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God.”
Mark’s account of the Last Supper helps us to realize that Jesus has established a covenant with us. The night before He died, He created the ritual that is meant to sustain us through our own experience of life, passion and death. “While they were eating, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, gave it to them, and said, ‘Take it; this is my body.’ Then he took a cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, and they all drank from it. He said to them, ‘This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.’”
The Eucharist is the last and greatest gift the Lord left with us before His death on the Cross. The mysteries contained in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar are the fulfillment of the promise of the Lord to be with us always and the means by which we experience His power to heal and save our world. The sequence for the feast expresses it this way: “Christ willed what he himself had done should be renewed while time should run, in memory of his parting hour: Thus, tutored in his school divine, we consecrate the bread and wine; and lo – a Host of saving power.”