topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
 Solemnity the Body and Blood of Christ (C)
13 June 04


 

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.

 

 

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