Paulist Fr. Rich Andre preached this homily for the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi) on June 14, 2020 at St. Austin Catholic Parish in Austin, TX. The homily is based on the day’s readings: Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a; Psalm 147; 1 Corinthians 10:16-17; and John 6:51-58.

Oh, the irony! Here we are, celebrating the great solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, while I am praying before each weekend Mass that less than 40 people show up. If enough parishioners are willing to stay home and forego the Eucharist, everyone else arriving here can stay for Mass and receive communion!

For me, Corpus Christi in 2020 is almost the antithesis of our typical celebrations of this solemnity. The Eucharist has many dimensions. This is a day when we typically focus on Christ being physically present – body and blood, soul and divinity – in the Eucharist. Today, we will focus on how our Eucharistic Lord is present among us in other ways. Our readings – and our present circumstances – combine to invite us to reflect on how Christ is present in our suffering. In moments of great suffering, we are sometimes most aware that our God is a God of love and mercy.

Lord Jesus, your crucifixion and resurrection revealed God’s love. Lord, have mercy.

Lord Jesus, you feed us with your Body and Blood. Christ, have mercy. 

Lord Jesus, we will worship you at the Eucharistic banquet in heaven. Lord, have mercy.

During the first half of 2020, I have come to regret all the times that I had ever used the phrase “biblical proportions” to describe events that have happened in my lifetime before this most extraordinary year began. For example, if it rained heavily, I might say “it was a rainfall of biblical proportions.” Suddenly, Old Testament stories of people appealing to God in times of plague, drought, and civil unrest seem suddenly more realistic than ever before!

Judaism became a great religion, in part, because it acknowledged that a universe created by a benevolent God can still contain darkness and suffering. Think about it: the wisdom of Judaism was forged in times of slavery, exile, and political oppression. Our first reading from Deuteronomy has Moses addressing the Israelites just before they prepare to enter the Holy Land. He summarizes all that has happened to them since God delivered them from slavery in Egypt, including 40 years of wandering in the desert, which he describes as a “test… by affliction” to see if the Israelites could come to understand that they were completely and utterly dependent on God for everything.

Paul is writing to the Corinthian Christians because many of them have deluded themselves into thinking that once they were saved by God through baptism, there were no longer any consequences for their actions. Earlier in the letter, Paul has railed against members of the community for dividing themselves into followers of different leaders, for engaging in sexual impropriety, for eating food sacrificed to pagan idols, and most egregiously, for treating the poorer members as second-class citizens within the Christian community. It is in this context that we encounter the oldest written account of the Last Supper: “Are not the cup and the bread we consecrate at Mass a participation in Christ’s cross, the blood spilled out and body gruesomely asphyxiated on the cross?” Paul asks the Corinthian community. [That’s a paraphrase.] He goes on in the next three brilliant chapters to say our participation in the Eucharist is a pledge to love one another as if the other person were Christ:

• In chapter 11: Whoever participates in the Eucharist while treating the people around them as inferior “eats and drinks judgment on himself” (1 Cor 11:29).
• In chapter 12: “If one [member of the Body of Christ] suffers, all the parts suffer with it” (1 Cor 12:26).
• In chapter 13: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor 13:8).

And then we come to Jesus’ address to the incredulous crowd in the town of Capernaum, where he has done so much ministry. He proclaims in graphic terms, “unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” It’s even more graphic when we recognize that the word translated as “eat” is more accurately translated as “gnaw.” 

What are we to make of these passages on this Solemnity of the Most Precious Body and Blood of Christ in our present circumstances? Yes, we long for the Eucharist. Nothing can replace it. You and I here in this church right now have the opportunity to receive the Eucharist, even as the vast majority of parishioners have decided – with the blessing of Pope Francis and Bishop Vasquez – that the risks of contracting Covid-19 are too high for them or for other people with whom they interact. But the decision to refrain from the Eucharist during this pandemic is itself a very Eucharistic from of love. “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,… endures all things.”

Whether or not we choose to receive the Eucharist in this time of crisis of biblical proportions, let us remember that receiving the Eucharist is NOT just an act of private piety. Whenever we receive the Eucharist, we make a public pledge to care for one another, especially for those who are suffering most. 

The news has been quite depressing for the past four months. It has reminded us that all of us are suffering. But we must not allow our own suffering to blind us to the fact that millions of people are suffering more than we are: 

• Those least at risk of contracting a severe case of Covid-19 must wear masks to protect those more vulnerable. 
• Those chafing at the inconveniences of restricted movement must remember those facing economic devastation. 
• Those uncomfortable questioning criminal justice and policing protocols must hear the stories of those devastated by the status quo. 
• Those growing uncomfortable realizing their racial privilege must acknowledge the suffering of those who have endured centuries of racial injustice. 

“If one [member of the Body of Christ] suffers, all the parts suffer with it.”

Before we can enjoy a rainbow, we must weather the storm.

Before we can build a more just and equitable world, we must confront the injustices in our society.

Before we can celebrate our Eucharistic Lord’s resurrection, we must endure his crucifixion.

Come, Holy Spirit! Renew the face of the earth!