Corpus Christi homily (May 29, 2016)

Holy Thursday, Last Supper (Isaac Jogues Missal)
The Last Supper

Happy Feast of Corpus Christi! Today is the celebration of the mystery of the Body & Blood of Christ.

Today’s celebration has a special place in my heart, as it is the anniversary of the first Mass I celebrated after my ordination – or as a friend coined the phrase my ‘liturgical anniversary’.

The feast of Corpus Christi is a wonderful opportunity to reflect on the meaning of Mass. In short: why do we come and celebrate Mass?

A quick answer might simply be ‘because I have to’! Sometimes our default motivation comes from the various shades of pressure, guilt or outside expectation to come to Mass. We may also be driven by our desire for fellowship, prayer, song and inspiration.

Though these are valuable aspects of our celebration, they’re not exclusive to the Mass, right? I mean, we could find fellowship at a BBQ, prayer at a football game, songs in our shower and inspiration from the bookshelf.

At its core, our celebration is about offering sacrifice.

The idea of sacrifice, reasonably, makes us uncomfortable. It calls to mind thoughts of having to give up or lose something, that we’ll be called upon to give our ‘pound of flesh’ as the saying goes.

…. sacrifice implies debt, something we owe to someone else. …. sacrifice is necessary because of sin. We often avoid the language and reality of sacrifice because we want to avoid the reality of sin – that I am a sinner, that you are a sinner, that we all are sinners.

“O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!”

Do you remember this line? It is from the Exultet – the chant offered at the beginning of the Easter vigil Mass.

“O happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer!”

With this one line, after having recounted much of the faults and failings of mankind, we are reminded of God’s great mercy, of His wondrous love for us – incarnate in the Person of Jesus Christ.

Yet we can not truly know our Redeemer without acknowledging that we need one.
Tomorrow we celebrate Memorial Day weekend. We honor those who have willingly sacrificed their lives in defense of our lives and freedom. We show our appreciation with a feast, often with a barbeque of some sort, music, fraternity and maybe even a patriotic song or reading.

At some point in the celebration, drinks are passed around – age appropriate, of course! – as someone calls for silence. Particular names of the fallen are shared, and then we raise our glasses in honor of them, and of their comrades. It is a fitting memorial to the brave men and women who offered so much out of love of our country.

In the Usus Antiquior or the Extraordinary Form of the Mass, there was a psalm that the priest quoted before receiving communion – a tradition received from the practice of our Jewish forbearers:

“How can I repay the Lord for all the great good done for me? I will raise the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord.”

Sound familiar? We won’t just do that tomorrow for our soldiers – we’ll do that in a few minutes here at this altar. ‘Do this in memory of Me’, He told us. And so we do, at every Mass.

We can’t possibly repay the debt we owe for the forgiveness of our sins – that cost is ever beyond our means. But we have been given a gift that we can worthily offer in our thanksgiving – the gift of Christ Himself, the gift of His perfect self-sacrifice on our behalf: His Body – broken on the battlefield of sin – and His Blood – shed for sin’s forgiveness.

If you find yourself not entirely understanding the Mass and the Eucharist, you’re in good company! It’s all a bit heady, and a lot to take in. Thankfully, complete understanding isn’t necessary to join in the celebration – by God’s grace that may come later. What is necessary, what is vital, is that we enter into this mystery, that we take this cup of salvation, that we offer it to the Lord in thanksgiving and that we receive it with gratitude. May it transform us, so that the sacrifice Jesus made for our us may not be in vain.

Blessed

So, it seems I have a blog – which implies an intention to, you know, write. Which is in fact the case, as I have been mulling a post titled ‘In defense of sarcasm’. While this seemed a fitting introduction to the informal spirit of this blog, a title and informal spirit aren’t sufficient to merit clicking the ‘publish’ button. So I’ll leave that to percolate for a little while longer.

This last week has been strangely blessed. It started with the funeral Mass for Father Victor Cloquet, a priest of the archdiocese of Seattle and one connected to one of my previous and one of my current parishes. So I drove up to Saint Joseph in Tacoma for the celebration. The whole affair was a mix of different graces. Fraternity with my brother priests of the archdiocese & Saint Joseph‘s pastor – Father Michael Stinson (who graciously hosted us in his rectory). The sacrifice of the Mass offered for one of the gentlest priests I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Reminiscing with former parishioners and catching up with seminarians.

Because I’m assigned to the wild, wonderful but remote hinterland of Lewis county, I took the afternoon to run errands in the big city. Highlights included a visit to Vercillo’s Catholic Book & Gift store, Lowes and the local cigar shop (appropriately named ‘The Tinder Box‘).

The latter was important, as I passed the evening with two dear friends who had recently returned from a 30-day trip walking the Camino. Stories were shared, cigars smoked, jokes told, beers enjoyed and generally much fraternity into the wee hours of the night.

Fortunately, Tuesday is my day off – which allowed for a late start to a lazy day.

At the end of the week, I drove to Everett to visit another set of dear friends and their four daughters – the eldest of whom is my goddaughter. It was the first we’ve seen each other in almost a year because, well, life and things. Their parents are trying to avoid publishing their lives online, so you’ll have to take my word when I tell you that these little girls are the very definition of cute. And my how they’ve grown! But not so much that they wouldn’t let their godfather read them a bedtime story on the living room floor.

Back at the parishes this weekend, we had another round of new communicants as we celebrated First Holy Communion at Saint Yves in Mossyrock. The pastor, being a shmuck, forgot that today’s Mass was bi-lingual and had not prepared himself to preach in both English and Spanish.1 Thankfully, God provided – though the congregation pitched in when a stray word eluded translation!

Finally, today marked the resumption of our Hackmaster campaign.2 Several of our members had been out of the country, our hosts on the Camino in Spain and another in Japan. While we goofed around in-game, we were actually doing a lot of catch-up in real life. Of course, that didn’t preclude the usual table-top shenanigans – featuring bad puns, Diggy Diggy Hole references, discussing which Doctor is in fact the best (10th or 12th?) and sharing in copious amounts of rich & tasty food.

The first reading in the Office of Readings from Friday of the Seventh Week of Ordinary Time had this timely bit:

This is a vanity that occurs on earth: There are those who are just but are treated as though they had done evil, and those who are wicked but are treated as though they had done justly. This, too, I say is vanity.

Therefore I praised joy, because there is nothing better for mortals under the sun than to eat and to drink and to be joyful; this will accompany them in their toil through the limited days of life God gives them under the sun.

Somewhere in the rich history of the Church, someone wise observed that every sorrow is accompanied by graces from God and every blessing is a strengthening against future sorrows3. This week certainly fits that bill! God is good.

(Edited for grammar a couple times – 2016/05/23)