The Feast of Corpus Christi, Year A

Deuteronomy, 8:2-3, 14-16
1 Corinthians, 10:16-17
John, 6:47-58

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This morning we are going to carry God in the Blessed Sacrament outside and around the block. We are going to show the body of Christ to the world, and the body of Christ not only as it appears in the Blessed Sacrament, but also as it appears in us, in this parish family. Today's liturgy is a magnificent, powerful witness, a delight, and so fitting, a perfect expression of Christian faith. The world doesn't get it. Even many Christians think that what we are doing today is blasphemous, or outright crazy, or at least a little eccentric. Mostly, people ignore what we're doing, find it a nuisance, or consider it a mild curiosity, a bit of local color. A more sophisticated religious response, even a more godly response, would be to take offense at it, at least to care about it, to have some reaction to this religious proclamation.

Today's gospel from chapter 6 in S. John marks a watershed moment. Up to this point in his ministry, Jesus has been growing in popularity. At the beginning of the chapter, he miraculously multiplies the bread and fish to feed the crowd. The crowd loves this, getting their bellies full. The crowd tries to take Jesus by force to make him king. Jesus will have none of that. The crowd doesn't understand the meaning of the miraculous multiplication of bread, and when Jesus begins to explain it and to talk about the true bread of life, the crowd gets annoyed, very annoyed. The more the crowd hears from Jesus the less popular he becomes, until eventually the crowd wants to kill him.

Jesus tells the crowd, "The bread which I shall give for the life of the world is my flesh." The crowd asks, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?" Jesus repeats, "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you." The crowd and many of the disciples respond, "This is a hard saying, an offensive message, who can listen to it?" John tells us that after this teaching "many of the disciples turned away and no longer wanted to be associated with Jesus." (Jn 6:66)

Why did the crowd object? Part of it, of course, is that the notion of eating human flesh is abhorrent; it smacks of cannibalism. Even more, the Jewish Law, God's commands received by Moses, explicitly forbid drinking blood. An ancient Jew would have considered the act of drinking blood to be not only a violation of Torah, but well beyond the bounds of civilized behavior. Jesus not only appears to be trampling on the Law, dis-respecting God, but acting contrary to basic human decency. He seems well beyond the pale - something we should remember as we judge people.

The light has come into the darkness, and the darkness does not comprehend it. We hear these words - 'the body of Jesus,' 'the blood of Jesus' - all of the time. It's become dignified, respectable language, made tame and routine and sacred by our liturgy. But the command to eat and drink the body of Jesus Christ is shocking, and it is offensive and challenging, even to our ears, if we understand its implications.

We often feel that God is hidden, that he doesn't show himself to us, that he doesn't help us. We become unsure of God's presence in our lives when we don't recognize him in the ordinary. Jesus gave us his body and blood so that he'd remain with us, that we aren't alone. The first thing Jesus says in S. Mark's gospel is: "The time is fulfilled; the Kingdom of God is at hand." The good news is that God has drawn nigh, that there is no longer any distance between us and God. We hold God in our hands. We eat him. We digest him. He becomes part of us, and we part of him. God is our true food, the true sustenance of life.

The great irony is that while at times we complain to God for being remote, we also get offended and anxious, and we object when he draws nigh to us. In chapter 6 of John's gospel, just after Jesus tells the crowd for the first time that he is the bread which came down from heaven, the crowd objects, "Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know." (Jn 6:42) In S. Luke's gospel, the people of Nazareth hear the gracious words proceeding from Jesus, and then they reject Jesus saying, "Is not this Joseph's son?" (Lk 4:22) In other words, we say, "this man can't be of God; we know him too well; he's one of us."

Part of us rankles at the notion of God taking a physical body, becoming like us, subject to mortality, sexuality, disease, injury, aches, infirmity; God producing atrocious human smells and waste like the rest of us. Our physical bodies sometimes have a moment of glory, but for most of life they humble us. All the exercise and surgery in the world can't fix them and disguise the horror and deterioration of our bodies. We don't like to associate God with human flesh. We don't want him to be too much like us.

We know that Jesus has ascended, but God still walks among us. The body of Christ very much abides on earth - now as much as ever, probably more than ever. Fr Ronald Rolheiser points out that in the Bible the phrase 'body of Christ' refers to three things: "Jesus, the historical person who walked this earth for thirty-three years; the Eucharist, which is also the physical presence of God among us; and the body of believers, which is also the real presence. . . . We are the body of Christ." ⁽¹⁾ Christ has ascended, but we, together - not alone, together, are Christ, a visible, physical, organic reality. Rolheiser writes, "We have become, as Teresa of Avila so simply put it, God's physical hands, feet, mouthpiece, and heart in this world." ⁽²⁾

What so offends us about being told to eat the body and blood of Jesus Christ is not only the notion of eating flesh, not only the association of God with human flesh, but more upsetting the association that in eating the body and blood of Jesus Christ we are somehow partaking of one another, of Christ's body of believers, the community, the Church. Few of us doubt that the Church, our community, has more flaws and inanities and ugliness than we do individually. We don't like to be part of that. In commanding us to eat his body and blood, "In essence, Jesus is saying: You cannot deal with a perfect, all-forgiving, all-understanding God in heaven, if you cannot deal with a less-than-perfect, less-than-forgiving, and less-than-understanding community here on earth. You cannot pretend to be dealing with an invisible God if you refuse to deal with a visible family." ⁽³⁾ That's a hard saying: we have to be one, organically, visibly one with people we don't like or disapprove. That's why many disciples stopped associating with Jesus. That's why many disciples today still leave the Church. We get annoyed or disgusted or offended by other disciples, by the body of believers.

Fr. Rolheiser gives a concrete example. He tells us to imagine that

you join a new parish community. Initially, meeting all these people for the first time, you find the community good and to your liking. You are so impressed in fact that you get involved both in the parish council and the choir. Eventually, however, as you get to know everyone more deeply, a certain disillusionment sets in. You learn that your pastor has some real faults, that your parish council can be petty and narrow, and the community itself can be quite self-absorbed and callous to the needs of those outside of itself. It all comes to a head one evening at a board meeting when someone accuses you of being pushy and arrogant. The penny drops inside of you and, as you walk out of that meeting, you say to yourself: 'This is intolerable! I don't need to put up with this! I'm outta here! ⁽⁴⁾

We do need to put up with that! We need to put up with that if we believe Jesus, if we believe that his body and blood give us life. Running away can be running away from Jesus. I have yet to meet a family, or any group of people, that wasn't in some way dysfunctional and strange and difficult, but God doesn't call us to abandon it because it's difficult. If we love God, then we love our impossible neighbor. Spiritually mature people are good at dealing with other people, especially difficult people; spiritually mature people encounter God in other people, in community. So as we process with the Blessed Sacrament around the block, we are not only holding up God. We are holding up one another because God has come and dwells in each of us.

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

1. Ronald Rolheiser, Seeking Spirituality, Hodder & Stoughton (1998), pp. 75. Most of this sermon from here on is inspired by and comes from Rolheiser, pp. 69-77, 91-94.

2. Rolheiser, p. 76.

3. Rolheiser, p. 93.

4. Rolheiser, p. 93.