The Body and Blood

" The Lord Jesus, on the night He was betrayed, took bread, and when He had given thanks, He broke the bread and said, 'This is my body, which is given up for you; do this in remembrance of me.' In the same way, after supper, he took the cup, saying, 'This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.' For when you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until He comes [again]." [ 1 Corinthians 11: 23-26].


Today is the celebration of Corpus Christi, the feast that marks the Holy Body and Blood of Christ.

It has always astounded me that, in America, we take that religious freedom with such a cavalier attitude. Is it because, since we CAN worship freely, anywhere and anytime we want, that our Faith does not seem so precious any longer?

I was raised in a Christian church, was baptized, made my First Communion, was Confirmed. Then my parents stopped taking me to church. It was as if I had "graduated" and moved on. I would ask to go to church. They said, 'We don't do that any longer. We already did that.'

The danger in that, is that the child will start to believe that there is no need for church, therefore, there is no place for Faith and maybe, there is even no God.

I do not blame myself here! My family made the original mistake of denying me church. I did not dare to defy them and take myself to church. I did not even dare to believe in God, against what they were preaching to me.

Many decades later, though, I was still considering myself a Christian and yet, never going to church, never receiving Communion. What plateaus we rest in comfortably in our Faith journey! Unfortunately, our plateaus often becomes stasis. We get stuck.

Sometimes, something earth shattering needs to happen to rock us from our plateau. Something needs to force us to climb higher. This is what happened to me.

I came from a cruel and harsh home. I had no family members on my side, no one to be sure that I was fed, that I was safe from physical harm, no one to hug me and say, 'I love you.'

One summer many years ago, my husband and I took a trip back to the country where my father had been born. I was fortunate enough to get in touch with my nana's youngest sister. We traveled to the tiny fishing village where they had grown up, she and my nana, and the other ten siblings, in a little house on a snug harbor.

My nana's youngest sister brought along her sister, my Great Aunt Olivia.

This was the first and last time I ever met Aunt Olivia. She died about 3 weeks after we returned home.

I was only beginning to reestablish a family identity. And now it had been snatched away from me, in a heartbeat!

I returned to work. I was crushed in spirit. This despair was a lot more than the sudden ebbing of that "vacation feeling". I was feeling lost and alone.

A co-worker of great Faith told me, "Why don't you go to noontime Mass, it always makes me feel better." She told me that she would watch my desk for me.

I grabbed an umbrella. It was dreary and rainy. I left the office. But suddenly I stopped outside in the rain. I literally had nowhere to go! I was a "fence sitter", with no church, no Faith home.

I went back to the church denomination I had grown up in. This church is one of the oldest in the city. It is built of stone, with a towering steeple, and inside, old wooden pews that have withstood the tests of time.

I thought the service would be a few prayers and readings. But all at once, I was confronted with Communion. People in the pew next to me waved their hands at me, ushering me up the aisle. I was paralyzed, but my heavy feet took me up there.

Then, I received the Host. I was elated! I had done it.! All the years of fear and avoidance melted away. Communion had become, not just an everyday act of Faith, it was a miracle!

When I left the church, I felt light as a feather! I still knew that I would never see Aunt Olivia again, not in this lifetime. But I knew that she was with my nana, who had died many decades later. She was in a good place. Everything was going to be okay.

I wanted that peace inside me to last forever. It did not.

It takes returning again and again to the Eucharist, in order to receive that Peace, that  mystical alchemy that places all the sacred qualities of Christ within us.

I wish I could make this a perfect story and tell you that I ran right out and converted. I did not. I struggled and fought for decades more. I even told myself that I was enough of a Christian if I simply went to church, but did not go up for Communion.

I was bargaining with God. I was wrong!

What I have come to realize is that, this avoiding going to Mass and receiving the Eucharist is NOT about Catholic guilt.  We NEED to be in Community with something Higher than  ourselves. We need this to survive. We need it to thrive in this crazy world.

And so, I ask you, Why would you-- or anyone-- deny yourself the magical, holy and transforming experience of the Eucharist? It is medicine. It is sheer Heaven on earth.


[Related  postings, " Corpus Christi", June 27, 2011; " Holy Body and Blood of Christ", June 7, 2012.]

(c) Spiritual Devotional 2013. All Rights Reserved.





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