Last Friday
evening, as the time for the nation to mourn the death of
former-President Ronald Wilson Reagan drew near to its inevitable
concluding moment, the Commander of the USS Ronald Reagan knelt before
Nancy Reagan and handed her the carefully folded American flag that had
draped her husband’s casket for all of the previous week’s funeral
ceremonies. With this last official act, it was now time for Mrs.
Reagan to accept the finality of her husband’s death, to pay her final
respects and, then, to head home to Bel Aire to begin the work of
picking up the shattered pieces and getting on with her life.
That very
poignant scene—one replayed each time the nation’s flag is removed from
the casket of a fallen hero, is folded ceremoniously into a tight
triangle, and then is humbly presented to a heartbroken spouse—is
evocative not only of feelings of sympathy for the plight of the
bereaved. That scene is also evocative of feelings of pride for the
courage demonstrated by those men and women who have paid the ultimate
price. We may not oftentimes reflect upon this fact but, during the
past year, nearly 800 spouses and families have shared the loss and
devastation similar to that which we saw etched on Nancy Reagan’s face,
for these fellow citizens also have lost a beloved husband or wife, a
father or mother, a son or daughter, or a friend in the Iraqi theater of
our nation’s war on terrorism.
After returning
home from the interment service, survivors oftentimes will display the
flag that had draped their beloved’s coffin, many positioning the flag
in a prominent place alongside a picture of their beloved, perhaps on a
mantle or shelf or in a bookcase. Whenever the survivors contemplate
that flag—even years long after the heroic sacrifice—the flag and all
that it symbolizes stirs up yet once again those very deeply felt
emotions of grief, loss, sadness and, yes, pride.
The emotions of
grief, loss, and sadness wash up upon survivors like the tide, sometimes
rising to the point where it feels as if these emotions will overwhelm
the survivors and, at other times, survivors feel the power of these
emotions as if they are pulling their legs out from beneath them like a
rip tide. As much as the flag symbolized to those fallen heroes their
homeland and their eagerly anticipated homecoming, the survivors now
recall how Fate intervened with such tragic ferocity that the itinerary
of their beloved no longer included the possibility of saluting the flag
as they planted their feet firmly and in safety upon the soil of the
homeland and to be welcomed by their family, friends, and well wishers.
All that they had to look forward to in their lives, so tragically cut
short by war, vanished in the flicker of an instant, perhaps for a few
minutes or hours, or as they bore their wounds until their bodies
finally could no longer offer resistance. For the survivors, however,
the memory lives on.
The emotion of
pride also lives on in survivors because these heroes believed in high
and noble principles, including among others liberty, justice, and
democracy. For some inexplicable reason, these men and women desired
with all of their hearts to preserve and protect these principles for
their fellow families, friends, citizens, and nation—almost all of whom
they never knew or met—that they were willing to give their lives if
need be. We’ve all heard stories of young people, after witnessing the
evil perpetrated on our nation on 9/11 (including fellow citizens like
NFL All Star Pat Tillman), who decided they were willing if necessary to
sacrifice their lives for their families, friends, fellow citizens, and
nation.
When the people
of a nation grow satisfied and complacent with themselves and their
lives, few are willing to take that step forward and to pay that
ultimate price. But, when citizens allow high and noble principles to
transcend selfishness and to transform it into self giving, their lives
take on a new meaning where serving others—even at the price of giving
one’s body and blood—not only makes sense. Many also believe it to be a
divine calling.
Throughout our
nation’s history, it is not unusual for the children of our nation’s
fallen heroes—whether these brave persons have served in the nation’s
Armed Forces or as first responders—to desire, to prepare, and then to
traverse the pathway of service in the cause of preserving and
protecting the same high and noble principles their heroes have died
for. Even though perhaps not one of these ever said to a child prior to
one’s untimely death how proud he or she would be if that child would
follow in one’s footsteps, the high and noble principles for which that
parent gave one’s life transcended not only selfishness but the
generations as well, as their flesh and blood stepped forward to offer
themselves in service for others, giving their bodies and, if necessary,
their blood…all as a living memory of the sacrifice made by their
parents.
“Do this in
memory of me” has personal meaning to children of fallen heroes.
Just as our
nation’s flag symbolizes the self giving and sacrifice of so many fallen
heroes, it is easy to believe that the Eucharist symbolizes Jesus’
sacrifice and to liken what transpires at every Mass, every day, and
throughout the entire world to a memorial service like the many of us
may have watched during the past week. Were the Eucharist simply a
memorial, it would be easy to think about Sunday Mass in much the same
way we and our fellow citizens thought about President Reagan’s memorial
services, that is, spectators who turn on, watch, and perhaps even feel
pity as others suffer and yearn for nourishment to fill the hunger and
to slake the thirst present in their souls.
The reason this
idea is so terribly mistaken—as reasonable as this idea may sound—is
that the Eucharist is not a symbol like the American flag, reminding us
only about how Jesus gave his body and blood on our behalf. Nor does
the Eucharist simply memorialize those days and events in salvation
history, important as they are. More substantively, the Eucharist is
the Real Presence through which the Risen Lord gives us his body and
blood, so that our communion with him will transform us into his Real
Presence here and now.
In celebrating
the Eucharist, we are not spectators who seek to be entertained as if
the Sacrifice of the Mass is another form of entertainment. In
celebrating the Eucharist, we are participants who seek entrance into a
sacred mystery. We “do this,” as Jesus said, “in memory of me” as we
listen attentively to the Word of God in Scripture and then as we
partake of the Body and Blood of the Risen Lord in the Sacrament. We
not only are transformed by the Word of God communicated in Scripture
but we also are transformed by the Sacrament into the Body and Blood of
the Risen Lord. As Pope John Paul II explained just this past week, the
Eucharist makes us people “who render the redeeming sacrifice of Jesus
Christ contemporary.”
This belief in
the Real Presence makes us uniquely Catholic. When we participate in
this sacred mystery where Jesus is made truly present, the Risen Lord
fills the hunger and slakes the thirst present in our souls in order
that we might become his real presence alive and at work in building
God’s kingdom. Were the Eucharist not his Real Presence, Jesus
would remain a fallen hero whose memory stirs our emotions. He
would not be the only begotten Son of God who rose from the dead and who
now lives in his disciples.
“Do this in
memory of me” is not a phrase referencing a moment frozen in
history—like a flag displayed prominently on a mantle or shelf or in a
bookcase recalls the heroic deeds of the deceased—but a living reality
where, as the Body and Blood of Christ, we unconditionally give
ourselves in service for others. Sometimes, the sacrifice may require
spending our precious time and energy in service of others rather than
reserving our time and energy for ourselves. At other times, the
sacrifice may require bearing the cross of hardship, pain, and
suffering...without complaint. As we heard in today’s first reading,
the sacrifice required might be 10 percent of our gross income. Or, the
sacrifice may require giving our body and blood.
Whatever the
sacrifice and its cost, we “do this” as Jesus said “in memory of me” by
participating in the Eucharist and allowing the Body and Blood of Christ
to transform us into his Real Presence alive and at work in our lives
and our world as we build God’s kingdom of mercy, justice, peace, and
love. |