Belated thoughts on Corpus Christi

Few things are worse than a summer head cold. I haven't had too many of those in my life. However, last week I was afflicted by one. I was able to rest most of the day on Saturday. Apart from that my life kept pace. Today, however, I finally took a down-day. Thankfully, I am at the tail end of the cold and feeling much better.

Due to not feeling well and being busy, I wasn't able to post a reflection on Corpus Christi. By my reckoning, our observance of the twin solemnities of Trinity and Corpus Christi is a way to hang onto Easter. Beyond that, these solemnities provide opportunities to immerse ourselves, through the liturgy, in two of the deepest mysteries of the Christian faith. I still prefer marking the Sundays of Ordinary Time between Trinity Sunday and the First Sunday of Advent as Sundays After Trinity.

Preaching on deep matters of faith is risky business. Nobody can swallow a mystery whole. Nonetheless, those of us who preach should not avoid trying to clarify and expound upon one or more dimensions of these mysteries.

This year I preached on both Pentecost and Trinity Sunday. If I had completed the trifecta by preaching on Corpus Christi, my focus would've been much the same as it was on Pentecost. On Pentecost, I preached on the necessity of the Church, as difficult and even disheartening as that necessity seems to many these days.

I probably would've mentioned again the importance of the ressourcement, the retrival, of understanding the Church as Christ's Verum Corpus and the Blessed Sacrament as Christ's Mystici Corporis. I also would've linked this observation to that ancient axiom (axiomatic for Christians, at least): The Eucharist makes the Church and the Church makes the Eucharist.

It's important not to speak about, worship, adore, the Blessed Sacrament in a vacuum. In understanding the Blessed Sacrament as Christ's mystical body it is a short leap to grasping how through it the Spirit makes all who partake of it, together, Christ's true body: the Church. This can be nicely summarized by that overused quote usually attributed to Saint Teresa of Ávila:

Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours

If nothing else, I hope these reflections serve the purpose of putting some bones under the flesh of this, giving it not just some shape and/or form but helping to make it Christoform, that is, ecclesial-shaped.

Another thing to mention and to state emphatically is that if the Eucharist is not both a sign and a symbol then it is nothing at all. This may require a brief excursus on what is meant by "real" in the descriptive phrase "Real Presence." When we say Christ really present in the Eucharist we should also include three other ways he is really present besides in the consecrated species: in the gathering of the baptized, in the person of the priest, and in the proclamation of the Scriptures. Without these, his presence in the consecrated bread and wine doesn't make a lot of sense and is not even possible.

It seems important, too, to impart an understanding of what a symbol is. To wit: symbols are real, or they at least point to reality. In the case of the sacraments, symbols make perceptible what is otherwise imperceptible. A brief explanation of the function of a sign and the unique way that sacraments, in a sense, are what they signify, is also important.

I'll end this reflection with something Pope Francis said last week on Corpus Christi:

Let us not forget that the Eucharist is meant to nourish those who are weary and hungry along the way. A Church of the pure and perfect is a room with no place for anyone. On the other hand, a Church with open doors, that gathers and celebrates around Christ, is a large room where everyone--everyone, the righteous and sinners--can enter

It's good to reflect on the paradox simul justus et peccator. The Christian is simultaneously justified and a sinner, someone in need of help along her pilgrim way. The Eucharist gives us strength for the journey. Let us never forget that, in essence, "companion" means one with whom we share bread. What is the Church [meant to be] if not a companionship?