Homily for Corpus Christi

The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, (A Sign that is enough for us)

For all of us there comes a last time for doing the litany of familiar things that we do always. There is the last time we see our family and friends; the last time we write a letter, hear a name spoken, share a family meal. Perhaps it is a mercy that most of us don’t know when the last time arrives, that we are never sure when our goodbyes have the accent of finality. Even the dying can still hope that they will feel again the comfort of human touch, will hear the blinds being drawn, will smell the promise of breakfast. There is always a crazy hope that there will be another time.

  In today’s Gospel Jesus prepares for the last time with his friends: he knows that the final moments are upon him. This is to be the last opportunity for him to share with his followers. Preparations are carefully made; the last meal must be celebrated in peace, to savor the gift that will be offered. The gift is a surprise. Jesus gives himself - Literally. ‘’Take it, this is my body….. This is my blood… I shall not drink any more wine until the day I drink the new wine in the kingdom of God.”

The close association that Jesus has had with his followers is about to come to an end. That fellowship will be renewed in full only in the kingdom of God when they will all drink a new wine together. In the meantime, the followers of Jesus must gather to share a simple memorial meal. Until the fullness of the kingdom the sharing of that meal must satisfy their hunger for God, their longing for the presence of Jesus. The meal of fellowship has to be enough for them as it has to be enough for us.

  Jesus faced the darkness of his last time by gathering his friends and sharing with them the gift of himself. After the resurrection they would gather to keep his memory alive, to hear again the stories that love remembered, to break the bread the bread of life that would nourish them in their journey to the kingdom. Down the ages the Christian community has shared that memory as life. That is what we do today.

  The Eucharist is not something we come to watch; rather, it is something we come to do. We gather as a consecrated people to do something together. In the action of the Mass, we hold holy the memory of Jesus, we share the bread that is broken, we accept the cup that is held out to us. Week by week throughout the year we strengthen each other by our sharing and our faith, so that all our time is consecrated to the Lord. Until the fullness of the kingdom, when we hope to see the Lord face to face, this simple meal has to be enough for us.

  We are all seeking God. We all need the witness of each other’s love and faith at this simple meal. In Ingmar Bergman’s classic film, The Seventh Seal, the quest for God is set against a medieval world threatened by plague. After fighting in the crusades, a knight makes the return journey to his native land. He survives a shipwreck, but Death lets him know that he is doomed to die within a certain time. The knight wins a little more time at a game of chess, but he is sick of heart: he wants to believe in God, yet he cannot manage by himself to reach faith. He seeks for the Black Death; God seems to be absent from the troubled streets of every town and village.

  On his journey the knight meets a peasant couple and their child and shares a simple meal with them. The only food they can manage to gather is wild strawberries, this they share, together with fresh milk. The love in the young couple’s welcome and regard, the fruit of their love in the sleeping child, Mikael, all this is greater than the food and drink that is shared. In the simple actions of sharing the meal the knight sees the presence of a love that has eluded him. The husband picks up his lyre and plays music that mocks the plague that surrounds all of them. In that meeting place the darkness begins to lift from the knight. He has been gifted with more than food; he has been graced with more than fellowship. He prays his thanks when he says: “I shall remember this moment. The silence, the twilight, the bowls of strawberries, the milk, your face in the evening light. Mikael sleeping, Jof with his Iyre….I’II carry this memory between my hands as carefully as if it were a bowl filled to the brim with fresh milk….. And it will be an adequate sign. It will be enough for me.”