Eucharistic Rant

Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ

Cycle A

Jesus says in John’s gospel that if we are to be his friends, we will keep his commandments. And he didn’t have very many of them. Love one another as I have loved you. Go and make disciples of all nations. Do this in memory of me. How many of your friends put that condition on your friendship? If you are my friend you’ll do as I command you. I imagine none of them do. But none of our other friends has the authority to command us. None of our other friends is our Lord and Savior. Jesus’ commands are reasonable because of what he offers us in return.

Today is the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ. Corpus Christi. And so it’s time to take a look at that final commandment of Jesus. Do this in memory of me. He didn’t say to just think of him from time to time. He said to do this. Perform the supper of the new covenant, just like he did with his friends. In other words, come to Mass. To Jesus it isn’t an option. He’s very clear about it in today’s gospel. "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you.” Not even a little bit, Jesus? What if I go out into the mountains on my bike on Sundays? Isn’t communing with your creation enough? No life? That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it? I mean, I’m spiritual, just not religious. Do I have to have a religion to have life?

And he also said that “For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” You mean it’s real? Not just a symbol? And if I don’t eat and drink I won’t have eternal life? We can look at it as a negative, “If I don’t do it then I won’t have life.” Or we can see it as a wonderful gift, “I actually get to receive Jesus physically into my body and soul.” Going to Mass shouldn’t be an obligation; it should be something we long to do, joyfully.

It’s easy to take it for granted. Most of us have been coming to Mass our entire lives. We received our first communion in second grade. And so we can tend to lose sight of the life-changing capability of the Eucharist. I have actually seen people coming up to communion with tears streaming down their faces, because they had not been receiving the Eucharist for a long time for some reason or other, and now they’re back. I have seen the longing in the hearts of our catechumens as they prepare to be in full communion with us, wanting so badly to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. They see us mechanically shuffle up the aisle and want to shout out, “Don’t you realize what you are being given the privilege to do?” I wonder how we would view the Eucharist if we were deprived of it for awhile. Would we appreciate it more?

We have been given a great gift. Our God has chosen to give us his very self in the form of bread and wine. We have been given the chance to share so fully in our Lord that we actually become what we eat. We have the chance to literally become Christ to the world. I think some of us have lost sight of the wonderfulness of that gift. You know that almost 30% of American Catholics don’t believe that the Eucharist is actually the body and blood of Christ, but only a symbol? When did it change? Is it simply a lack of education or is it easier for us to believe the symbol over the reality? If it’s just a symbol then we are just remembering something that happened 2000 years ago. It’s nice, but there’s no challenge for our lives. We really don’t have to do anything. But if the Eucharist is truly Christ present to us and in us, then we are forced to see things differently. We are forced to conform our lives to that of Christ, and that’s sometimes scary and challenging.

What would you do if Jesus was standing right here this morning? How would you act? How would you dress? How would you approach him? Would you wear ratty clothes, and shuffle up to him while chewing gum? Would you pass him by without acknowledging his presence? Probably not. We wouldn’t even do that if some senator or congressman or other dignitary was here. But we do it all the time with Jesus. Because Jesus is right here, physically present to us. We approach him every Sunday, and oftentimes too casually.

Why do we have a certain way we approach the Lord in Holy Communion? Is it because some old white guys with too much free time on their hands have come up with all these silly rules for us to follow? Or is it because we really should show a certain level of seriousness and respect when receiving Him? We have a responsibility to protect and honor the Eucharist. We don’t and can’t take it lightly. And it is the responsibility of the Church to help us understand what it’s all about and how to prepare ourselves to receive Jesus.

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and for some reason the subject of fasting for an hour before receiving communion came up. He was surprised that that rule was still in effect. “What are we, still in the Dark Ages?” he asked me. I guess he really didn’t understand why we would fast. The Eucharist never changes, so why should how we treat it change? Are we so sophisticated and evolved today that we don’t need to act any differently around Jesus? Are we that arrogant? Or have we just become indifferent?

Someone once told me that the Mass is not a sit down dinner, but a potluck. In a sit down dinner we come to be served and waited upon. We are there to experience the meal and enjoy it. It happens to us. In a potluck we are actively involved in preparing and serving it to others. We bring our best dish to it, the one we’re most proud of and that everyone enjoys. And if someone doesn’t bring a dish there may not be enough for all. The meal is incomplete. We are not served in a potluck; instead we serve. If you come here and just sit there and take it all in, or parts of it when you aren’t looking out the window or reading the bulletin, then you’ll never get the true meaning of Eucharist and communion. When you take part in preparing the meal, you understand what it’s all about and what goes into it and why we do it. If you just come in and expect to be served or entertained then you never get below the surface and you cannot be transformed by it. And the liturgy suffers because you are there to take and not to give.

And part of that preparation is preparing ourselves to take part in it. Just as we would dress properly if Jesus were coming to dinner, we would also be sure that our souls were properly disposed. Just as many people think that the one hour fast prior to Mass is a thing of the past, they think they can come to communion just any old way also, with all their sins unforgiven. We are all called to come before the Lord to receive him in holiness. And that means without having any serious sin on our souls. Yes, that means going to confession, but it also means that we strive to make our entire lives holy. To be constantly in a state of grace. It’s not just a ticket we punch in order to receive communion worthily. It’s understanding what we are really doing here and naturally wanting to be ok with God in order to become one with him.

For the past twenty years there has been a movement in the Evangelical Protestant churches to build mega churches, those that seat thousands and have everything from snack bars to free child care, with rock bands and computerized audio visual systems. Jesus as entertainment. And for many years these churches grew and thrived, especially among the younger, digital generation. But recently these churches have seen a steep decline in membership. Because it’s not about entertainment. It’s not about going to get what you need. It’s about Jesus. We come to worship God because that’s what we were created to do. Not to be entertained. There is a great herd of people who bounce from church to church, preacher to preacher, searching for their needs to be filled. But it’s not about their needs, it’s about the needs of others. It’s about Eucharist. We come here to be fed and refreshed, but only so we can then take that food out into the world to radically transform it. If you are looking for fulfillment outside of receiving the actual body and blood of Christ you will never find it. You will never have life within you unless you do. Because the Eucharist isn’t something we do, the Eucharist is who we are. No Eucharist, no church. No church, no Eucharist.

A big complaint about the liturgy in the past forty years is that there is a lack of solemnity and reverence. And I agree with that. We act much more respectfully in a library than we do in a church. That’s one reason some people have been pushing for a return to the Latin Mass, because there was a sense of the awesome, of the transcendant, that seems to be missing now. That’s one way to try to get it back. Another way, one I think is much more effective and life-changing, is if we all really understood what we are doing here, and take an active part in worshiping.

In Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy from Vatican II, it states that the people are all called to full, active, and conscious participation in the liturgy, the Mass. We are not spectators here, but active participants. In fact, one of the four ways Jesus is present in the Mass is in the community. No community, no Mass. And it says participation, not observation. We are called to be active in the Mass. One way that action manifests itself is in the number and types of ministries in the Mass – Eucharistic ministers, lectors, ushers, altar servers, choir members. But that doesn’t let the rest of us off the hook. This isn’t a concert, it’s a sing along. The prayers we say don’t just wash over us, we all say them together, in one loud, holy noise. Actively praying in community means our lips should be moving; we’re not just following along in our heads. And we need to be consciously aware of what we are doing and why we are doing it.

Some of you may be annoyed by my little rant here this morning. It may make you uncomfortable. Every once in awhile we need to take stock of the important things in our lives, and today’s feast is a good time to do so with our Eucharistic lives. We can choose to go along as we have been, or we can try to be better disciples. Remember that immediately after Jesus said these words to his disciples, all but 12 left him. They couldn’t take it. It was too hard for them to understand and to carry out. And so they left him. We are faced with the same hard choice today. Jesus is pretty clear on this. And just as he didn’t go running after those who left and say, “You know, you’re right. I’m just being symbolic. I’m using a figure of speech. I’m just issuing you some guidelines. Come on back.” He won’t change his commandments just because they don’t fit into our lifestyles. It’s us he challenges to change.

He asked the twelve, “Will you also leave?” St. Peter replied, “Lord, to whom shall we go?”

To whom shall we go?

Divine Mercy

2^nd Sunday of Easter/Divine Mercy Sunday

Acts 2:42-47
Psalm 118:2-4, 13-15, 22-24
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31

Can you imagine what it was like in that upper room that night? Can you imagine how the apostles felt? What had they just done? All had run away. All had betrayed and denied Jesus. They were probably feeling very ashamed of themselves. They probably were embarrassed to see one another. These same men were the ones who had argued about who amongst them was the greatest. I can imagine how they were bickering amongst themselves again about who was the biggest coward.

Maybe Thomas wasn’t there because he couldn’t face them. He was the one who boldly declared that he was going to Jerusalem with Jesus to die with him, and we don’t even hear about him in the stories of Jesus’ passion. He simply disappeared.

In that first liturgy that night, Jesus appeared to them and got straight to the point. He knew how they were feeling, how ashamed they were. He knew they were in danger of tearing apart their fragile fellowship, destroying the church before it even began, and so he offered them two things: his peace and forgiveness. We often look at this scene as the institution of the sacrament of reconciliation, where Jesus gave the apostles the power to forgive sins, and it is. However, the first sins they needed to forgive were those of one another.

Another way of looking at this scene is that Jesus is stating a fact of life to them. “Who’s sins you forgive are forgiven, and who’s sins you hold bound are held bound.” If you forgive each other’s sins then healing can occur and relationships can occur. If you hold them bound; if you keep them tied up inside of you and let them fester into bitterness, healing can never occur and relationships will be permanently destroyed. “If I can forgive you”, Jesus was telling them, “then you must forgive one another and move on”.

How different those two gatherings were, first in John and then later in Acts. If the apostles had not forgiven each other in the upper room do you think there could have been that idyllic communal lifestyle later on? If they had not forgiven each other would they have been open to the pouring out of the Holy Spirit that occurred at Pentecost? Would they have been able to leave their hiding place and go out into the world to spread the Gospel?

On this Divine Mercy Sunday we see the extent of Jesus’ mercy. Everyone in that room, except for his mother and John, had abandoned him. Every one of them had turned coward and denied him. But instead of berating them or shaming them further he forgave them and taught them to forgive one another, and themselves.

He breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit”. Out of the chaos of their broken relationships he gave order and unity. Just as the Father had created order out of chaos by breathing on the waters when he created the universe, Jesus created order in his young church when He offered them his peace, then gave them his body. He breathed his spirit upon them and then told them to do the same throughout the entire world.

I think the thing we crave most of all in life is mercy. Not love, but mercy, because we all have done things we’re ashamed of, and usually it is because we did something to hurt someone else. We break our relationships, usually with those closest to us, and we want to heal them. The only way is for us to show mercy to one another.

When someone wrongs us we have power over them. We are in the driver’s seat because we can choose to heal the relationship or not. Mercy is when the more powerful gives something to the weaker that is not deserved. Mercy is a gift. Mercy says, “I know you don’t really deserve to be forgiven by me, because what you did really hurt me, but I’m willing to look beyond that and accept you back into my life, with no conditions, because I love you. My love for you is greater than my natural desire to give you what you truly deserve.” When we are merciful we rise above ourselves and become like God. Mercy is not fairness. If we were fair we would never forgive. We would stew in our revenge. Rather, we go beyond fairness to the awesomeness of love.

If God were not merciful what hope do we have? Talk about the powerful giving to the weak. We never deserve God’s mercy; he chooses to give it with no questions asked, no recriminations, and no strings attached. We never deserved such a savior. In a just world God would give us what we truly have earned, and it’s not the chance to be with him in heaven. Instead, God has chosen to give us the gift of his very self. He has wiped the slate clean and told us we’re ok with him.

It is that wonderful, all encompassing mercy that Pope John Paul II wanted us to be aware of when he instituted Divine Mercy Sunday. What better day to celebrate God’s merciful love for us than the Sunday with these readings? And what better day to celebrate the beatification of John Paul II than on Divine Mercy Sunday?

As the Father has sent me, so I send you. The Father sent his son to the world to demonstrate his all encompassing mercy. And now we are sent to do the same. We are called to not just bring the message of God’s mercy to the world, but to show the same level of mercy to one another. And we don’t do it because it’s a duty, because mercy can be tough to show. It goes against our natural selfish tendencies. But we do it because we love. What greater love can we show for one another than to lay down our lives for one another? To lay aside our own needs and desires and act for one another. That’s what Jesus means when he says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”

And it’s not just the big things we need to be merciful for. It’s those dozens of little mercies we are called to give throughout the day. We’re all into tolerance these days, but we really should be all about mercy. Tolerance is a passive concept, mercy is active. Tolerance is also a bit arrogant. I tolerate you and your behavior, as if I’m just putting up with you because I’m better than you. Mercy can also be overlooking someone else’s annoying faults, or character quirks, or idiosyncrasies.

Cut me some slack. Have mercy on me because I am different from you. I am a different color. My belief in God is different than yours. I have no belief at all. I don’t come to Mass every Sunday. I have a heavy accent. I’m gay. Or, God forbid, I’m a Republican. Have mercy on me because God has mercy on me. If we are merciful in the small things that drive us crazy we will find it easier to show mercy when it really counts. And who knows, maybe after a while we won’t hurt each other so much.

So, who do you need to show mercy to? Who do you need to ask forgiveness of? Who do you need to go home and call today?

Following the Crowd

Palm Sunday

Cycle A

Someone once said that people alone are smart; crowds are stupid. It’s one of those paradoxes of life that we all want to be thought of as unique, but we also want to fit into the crowd. Popular music, the fashion industry, politics, even our Christian faith, all hinge on what the crowd thinks is right and cool and acceptable. And when someone breaks out of the crowd and dresses, or acts, or believes differently they are held up as mavericks or denigrated as freaks. We look at them with a secret envy and a bit of fear. We’d like to be different, too, but are afraid of what the crowd would say if we were. Crowds are a safe way for us to break out of our comfort zones anonymously.

I often wonder about those two crowds in today’s gospels. How many of them were true disciples of Jesus, or true haters of Jesus, and how many were just going along with the crowd? I can imagine that many of them were just passing by and saw a commotion, and they joined in without knowing what they were doing. It’s easy to start a crowd. Just stand on a street corner and look up into the sky for a minute. You’ll form a crowd all looking up into the sky, for no reason except that other people are doing it.

In our celebrity-celebrating society today we all love to build the beautiful people up with unrealistic expectations only to relish tearing them down later on. The higher they are the harder they fall. We like to stand on the sidelines as judge and jury, without ever getting too close to the subject and without thinking of how it hurts people.

I think the people of Jerusalem were the same way. They had heard rumors of Jesus the prophet, saw a crowd forming, and joined in the celebration. Then, when another crowd formed at the Roman praetorium calling for his death, they just jumped right in again, without a thought to who they were condemning or what it would mean. After he was condemned, they simply went back to their lives, until the next flash mob formed.

Group think doesn’t have to happen in a crowd. Oftentimes we act as a crowd when we’re by ourselves. One example is the ever popular saying “I’m spiritual but not religious”. People pop off with these ideas without really thinking about what they are saying or considering the consequences. And ideas can go viral. Someone speaks it, then another and another, until suddenly it becomes conventional wisdom, even if it’s wrong.

Do we follow the crowd when it comes to Jesus? When we come to Mass are we just following the crowd, praising Jesus as our king without truly knowing who he is? Do we join the crowd because everyone else is? Is it easy to join in when Jesus is popular with our friends? And what happens when he isn’t popular anymore? When it’s not cool to be his disciple anymore? Do we jump on the bandwagon that his Church is just not relevant in today’s world anymore? Do we stick with the easy teachings and ignore the hard ones that go against the conventional wisdom? Do we go so far as to call for his death, or the death of his ideas, or of his Church?

Or even worse, are we the silent ones on the edge of the crowd who find it amusing when the crowd is for him but say nothing when the crowd turns on him? Do we even want to get involved?

Keep this in mind as we enter now into the church in triumphant procession. Remember that just as we’re part of the adoring crowd now we’ll soon be part of the one who condemns him.