Jun
14
A Corpus Christi Sunday Meditation
Filed Under Eucharist, Mass Readings, Reflection, Scripture
Today is one of my favorite feasts of the entire Church year: the Feast of Corpus Christi, the Solemnity of the Most Sacred Body and Blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. As a new member of the Tantum Ergo Sacramentum household on the campus of Franciscan University, this feast holds very important meaning for me and my brothers. As a feast celebrating the Eucharist, it is inevitably a glorious occasion. We are celebrating today the very source and summit of our Christian life. In the tradition of my household, I wanted to include a reflection on this weekend’s readings for the benefit of all who desire it. While it is customary to provide this reflection on Saturday night, I have chosen to do so on Sunday evening instead. This is such a profound day, and it deserves to be savored.
In today’s first reading, we encounter the people of Israel as they renew their covenant with the Lord upon receiving His ordinances from Moses. Twice the Israelites respond that they will heed His words, yet, as we know merely six chapters later, the Israelites will build themselves a golden calf in the absence of Moses on Mount Sinai. This, in many respects, reflects the very action of Adam and Eve in seeking to create and control God’s power by their own hand. Just as Adam and Eve sought to achieve this in themselves by making themselves like gods, the Hebrew people set about creating a god of gold. It is phenomenon all too familiar to each one of us; we have all experienced our inclination to displace God with either our own selves or with something or someone else in our lives.
Whether it be out of pride or a mistrust of God, this idolatry is not exclusive to the Books of Exodus or Genesis. It is a theme that pervades all of scripture – but there is a reason why the Old Testament is referred to as Salvation History. From the very first moments after the Fall, the Lord promised us a Redeemer, and beginning with Abraham, he instituted a covenant with the Hebrew people, a covenant which would prepare the world for a New and lasting Covenant in which one final sacrifice would atone for the sins of all the world.
We see such preparation at work in the sacrificial rite which takes place in the first reading. When understood in light of the New Covenant, the ritual is astonishingly significant: An altar is stretched over twelve pillars symbolizing the twelve tribes of Israel. In the New Covenant, the altars which represent Christ’s cross stretch the entire globe. Just as Christ’s arms were outstretched over Hebrews and Romans alike, the altars of the New Covenant are stretched over every continent and every civilization. Young bulls are drained of their blood and offered as a peace offering to the Lord. In the Eucharist, this is re-presented on the altar by the separate species of bread and wine. Jesus Christ, as he hung upon the cross, was himself drained of every last drop of blood, but as one definitive victim, one offering which would make lasting peace between God and man. As Paul says in the second reading:
For if the blood of goats and bulls
…can sanctify those who are defiled
…how much more will the blood of Christ,
who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God,
cleanse our consciences from dead works
to worship the living God.
And notice that Paul recognizes Christ not only as victim, but as the one who offers himself; Christ freely entered into the sanctuary, freely was he lifted up, and freely did he shed his blood. In this way, he is both priest and victim – a shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep, the one mediator of the New Covenant and fulfillment of the old.
In the Old Testament ritual, half the bulls’ blood is splashed on the altar and half on the people, but in the New Covenant, the blood comes down from the altar and is wholly consumed by the people. No longer is this blood the kind which the Jews were forbidden to drink of. It is no mere bull’s blood. It is the blood of a divine person, the worthy victim; a blood which does not bring condemnation, but life. It is not sprinkled; it is consumed. And it is consumed entirely by each person, so that whoever drinks the blood of Christ communes with him in such a way that he inherits eternal life; he experiences the Divine Person of Jesus Christ dwelling both physically and spiritually within him.
It is not surprising, then, that Christ commands us to eat his flesh and drink his blood in the Gospels. “Take,” he says, “This is my blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.” This command is not a harsh dictate. It is not a simple task, nor is it one to simply sit and wonder at. It is an invitation to be one of the “many,” to commune with a God we will never be able to commune with worthily. Nothing on our part can ever merit this New Covenant; it is only by the merits of the one who is inviting us that we dare approach. To drink the blood of Christ is to trust him completely. It is to be humbled before him. It is to give back what little love we can by responding to his command. When we partake in the Eucharist, we love God in exactly the way the people of Israel ultimately failed to, and in return we receive the supernatural grace to fight against pride and mistrust. Truly the Eucharist is our food in that it provides us with the humility and trust we need to be faithful to our own exclamations of obedience to God.
May we all, like the psalmist, faithfully take up this cup of salvation and call upon the name of the Lord, and may we, in the presence of all God’s people – our brothers and sisters in the New Covenant – witness to the love of God by fulfilling our vows to the Lord.
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