That We May Be Christ

"All these thoughts on the Eucharist make it clear to us that in this Sacrament,

in which He not only gives grace to us but also gives Himself,

we are led to a supreme peak of spiritual fulfillment.

This Sacrament is not given to us merely in order that we do something,

but that we may be someone: that we may be Christ.

That we may be perfectly identified with Him.

Comparing the Eucharist with confirmation, St Thomas says that confirmation brings us an increase of grace in order to resist temptation, but the Eucharist does even more: it
increases and perfects our spiritual life itself, in order that we may be perfected
in our own being, our own personality, by our union with God ...

In other words,
by our union with Christ in the Eucharist we find our true selves.
The false self, the "old man", is burned away by the fervor of charity
generated by His intimate presence within our soul.
And the "new man" comes into full possession of Himself
as we "live, now not we, but Christ liveth in us."

Thomas Merton, The Living Bread

Keeping Christ at the Center

"During a prayer time the week before Easter, I was amazed by how much the monstrance seemed to symbolize the Catholic Church.

Like many Protestants, I had been concerned that Mary, the saints and the sacraments were roadblocks between believers and God so that to get to God, one would have to go around them. They seemed to complicate life with God unnecessarily like accretions on the sides of sunken treasures; they had to be discarded to get to what was important.

But now I could see that the opposite was true. Catholicism was not a distant religion, but a presence oriented one. Catholics were the ones who had Jesus physically present in churches and saw themselves as being tabernacles after receiving the Eucharist. And because Jesus is the Eucharist, keeping Him in the center allows all of the rich doctrines of the Church to emanate from Him, just as the beautiful gold rays stream forth from the Host in the monstrance."

- Kimberly Hahn
Rome Sweet Home, Our Journey to Catholicism

"We Could Understand the Mass"

When I read this I understand why daily Mass is so important:

A priest who was in the German prison camp in Dachau
describes the Mass after all the German guards were in bed:

"Our lives were in danger if we were ever discovered. A young priest had to memorize the names of all those who had received communion, but it was forbidden for us to gather in groups for prayer. After night call and bed check, we would set our guards, darken the windows, and the lucky one to be chosen to celebrate for this momentous occasion would carefully brush his pathetic prison garb, put the stole over his shoulders and by the small light of his smuggled candle begin the commemoration of that other great passion of which our own was the physical continuation.

We could understand the Mass.

All that could crowd into the room were there, tears of joy running down our cheeks. Christ the Lord, who knew what suffering was, was coming to suffer with us, to bring us strength and consolation. The small hosts were broken into as many particles as possible so the greatest number could communicate. We had to keep a secret roster of those who received.

We missed some of the liturgy perhaps, but I think God looked down into that prison room and found a particularly refreshing response to his cry of love from the cross, 'I thirst'. There was nothing that could keep us from doing all in our power to be closer to God."

Excerpted from Mother Teresa's address to the
Jesus through Mary Foundation
as found in the AUGUST 2 entry of
My Daily Eucharist - Joan Carter McHugh

SJV on Eucharist, Love and Prayer

Some good quotes, courtesy of Spence's mom:
"Every consecrated Host is made to burn Itself up with love in a human heart."
-St John Vianney

And another thought about fires....
Recommending liturgical prayer, St John Vianney would say,

“Private prayer is like straw

scattered here and there:
If you set it on fire

it makes a lot of little flames.
But gather these straws into a bundle

and light them,
and you get a mighty fire,

rising like a column into the sky;
public prayer is like that."

Why bread and wine?

From the daily e mail ....

Why did Our Blessed Lord use bread and wine
as the elements of the Memorial?

First of all, because no two substances in nature
better symbolize unity than bread and wine.
As bread is made of a multiplicity of grains of wheat,
and wine is made from a multiplicity of grapes,
so the many who believe are one in Christ.

Second, no two substances in nature
have to suffer more to become what they are than bread and wine.
Wheat has to pass through the rigors of winter,
be ground beneath the Calvary of a mill, and then subjected to
purging fire before it can become bread.
Grapes in their turn must be subjected to the Gethsemane of a wine press
and have their life crushed for them to become wine.
Thus do they symbolize the Passion and Sufferings of Christ,
and the condition of Salvation,
for Our Lord said unless we die to ourselves we cannot live in Him.

A third reason is that there are no two substances in nature
which have more traditionally nourished man than bread and wine.
In bringing these elements to the altar, men are equivalently bringing themselves.
When bread and wine are taken or consumed,
they are changed into man's body and blood.
But when He took bread and wine, He changed them into Himself.

Bishop Fulton J Sheen
Life of Christ

Hunger: Pleasures of the Heart

"They all ate and were satisfied" (Luke 11:17).

This one sentence is recorded at the end of today's gospel miracle of the feeding of five thousand. It contains within itself many of the longings aroused by and also satsified through the gift of the Holy Eucharist. Truly, it is the bread of heaven, containing within itself all sweetness.

I've been continuing to read Michael Casey's book Toward God: the Ancient Wisdom of Western Prayer. In it, he quotes Gregory the Great (Gospel Homily 36.1) in reference to the dynamic hunger-satiety which is both the catalyst and result of prayer. The same can be said of the Great Prayer, the Eucharist.

Gregory the Great, ever the master of the human spirit's psychology, hits the nail on the head of my own experience.

"There is a great difference, dear brothers, between the pleasures of the body and those of the heart. Bodily pleasures set alight a strong desire when they are not possessed, but one who has them and partakes of them, becomes satiated and tires of them.

On the other hand, spiritual pleasures are tiresome when they are not possessed, when they are possessed they cause even greater desire. The one who partakes of them hungers for more, and the more one eats the hungrier one becomes.

In carnal pleasures the appetite causes satiety and satiety generates dissatisfaction. In spiritual pleasures, on the other hand, when the appetite gives birth to satiety, satiety then gives birth to even greater appetite.

Spiritual delights increase the extent of the desire in the mind, even while they satisfy the appetite for them. The more one recognizes the taste of such things, the more one recognizes what it is that one loves so strongly.

We cannot love what we do not have because this would involve not having experienced the taste... you cannot love God's sweetness if you have never tasted it. Rather, embrace the food of life with the palate of the heart so that, having made trial of his sweetness, you may be empowered to love."

the Three Faces of Corpus Christi

The Feast of Corpus Christi, AKA the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ, provides us the opportunity to explore different dimensions around our experience of the Body of Christ.

First, and most obvious, is the personal dimension. Christians are, in large part, defined by their practice of receiving the Eucharist. After Baptism, it is the one action most often mentioned by pagan writers in antiquity trying to answer the question "Who are these Christians, anyway?"

One reason (among many) why I became Catholic was the tremendous respect for this sacrament, which I as a Lutheran had already grown to love. Knowing that many of my sisters and brothers received our Lord in this way only once a month or sometimes four times a year was always distressing to me. I supported weekly eucharist in every congregation where I served. As a Roman Catholic I have found in daily Mass a great support for my all-too-slow journey toward personal holiness.

But this Feast also bids us look at the communal dimensions of Eucharist. The processions which will take place around the world over these next few days take Christ out of the church building and bring him out to where people live. Benedict XVI acknowledged this as he accompanied our Lord through the streets of Rome for Corpus Christi:

"Benedict XVI said that the Eucharist passing by, "between houses and through the streets of our city," is "for those who live in them an offering of joy, of eternal life, of peace and of love." In his homily, the Holy Father said he wanted to put Christ "in the midst of our daily lives, so that he walks where we walk, so that he lives where we live."

"We go through the streets of the world knowing that he is at our side, supported by the hope of one day being able to see him with our faces unveiled in that definitive encounter," he continued.

Benedict XVI explained: "For every Christian generation, the Eucharist is indispensable food that sustains us as we cross the desert of this world, dried by ideological and economic systems that do not promote life, but repress it.

"A world in which the logic of power and possession dominates, instead of the logic of service and love; a world in which the culture of violence and death often triumphs. "Jesus knocks at the door of our hearts and asks to come in not just for one day, but for forever."

For Jesus to be present with us where we are is not only a potentiality, it is a theological necessity. If God indeed became enfleshed in human form, then He would not leave us orphans at the end of His time on earth. The Sacrament of His Love makes him present, really present, wherever that love is remembered according to the form he commanded and using the priestly means He provides. What a promise!

There is also a third dimension to this feast. And that is the solidarity we feel among ourselves because we share in this one Bread. If Christ is truly present in this Bread, then one must also believe, and act as if, he is present to and in and through others also.

I attended a Serra Club meeting this morning, where a representative from Catholic Relief Services shared about her experience as a world volunteer. We were all moved as we heard her tell the story of her work in Africa, and as she shared how CRS and others reach out across continents to meet human need in the name of the Church.

One portion of her presentation in particular struck me. It was a definition of solidarity, along with some quotes from our beloved Holy Father John Paul II and several others.

Solidarity is not a feeling of vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of so many people, both near and far. On the contrary it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good: that is to say, to the good of all and of each individual, because we all really are responsible for all.

-On Social Concern, Pope John Paul II, 1988

Solidarity is the conviction that we are born into a fabric of relationships, that our humanity ties us to others, that the Gospel itself consecrates those ties, and that the prophets tell us that those ties are the test by which our very holiness will be judged.

-Rev. J. Bryan Hehir

Solidarity is action on behalf of the one human family, calling us to help overcome the divisions of our world. Solidarity binds the rich to the poor. It makes the free zealous for the cause of the oppressed. It drives the comfortable and secure to take risks for the victims of tyranny and war. It calls those who are strong to care for those who are weak and vulnerable across the spectrum of human life.

-Called to Global Solidarity:International Challenges for U.S. Parishes, U.S. Bishops. 1997

I can think of no better way to commemorate the Eucharistic presence of our Lord than by sharing him at the Table, walking with Him through the streets of our towns, and then turning around and meeting him in the faces and outstretched hands of others who are in need.

Another B-16 fly-over

Here's another quote from our Holy Father in which I find much food for thought....

"The Eucharist draws us into Jesus’ act of self-oblation [self-offering]... we enter into the very dynamic of His self-giving. Let us live Lent, then, as a “Eucharistic” time in which, welcoming the love of Jesus, we learn to spread it around us with every word and deed."

—Pope Benedict XVI, Message for Lent 2007: “They shall look on Him whom they have pierced”

Visible Point of Unity and the Empty Altar

This morning I arrived at my parish for 7:00 a.m. Mass and realized that something was amiss when I saw the weekday sacristan scurrying around just a few minutes before the hour appointed.

The priest hadn't shown up and so our parish's faithful Deacon Rich was called into service, holding forth with a fine homily. We all received the precious Body of Christ and went forth strengthened for daily service. Still, I felt a little "let down" that it was a communion service rather than Mass. Then, I started thinking about why this is so.

As a Catholic convert I have been taught that when administering sacraments the priest acts "in persona Christi", that is, in the person of Christ. My spiritual director, who is also my pastor, often speaks about the Bishop and (by extension) the pastor as visible points of unity for the faithful.

My disappointment this morning wasn't intellectual or theological, however. Both of these ideas coalesced together in my meditation enough for me to realize how incredibly important a locus the priestly presence is in my life. When Father Charlie blesses me, I am blessed and feel that way. When he pronounces the "te absolvo" in Reconciliation it is Christ who blesses and forgives me. I take this presence so seriously that when it is absent I feel like something is missing. Yes, Christ is still with me, and I am just as holy, and just as guided, and perhaps just as well off as I would have been had a priest been available. But there is just something different, and I'd say qualitiatively better, about seeing and hearing God's absolving word spoken to you by another human being appointed to represent the invisible Christ. Similarily, the priest functions not as a replacement for but as an amplifier of God's love. For me, the Eucharist is the highest expression of that love.

Benedict XVI seems to be moving along these lines in yesterday's audience, when he spoke of that early "bishop's bishop," Ignatius of Antioch. Ignatius is one of my favorites anyway, since he is an early witness to the presence/idea of the apostolic succession among the Church. But in this case, Ignatius serves as a mirror of this idea of the unity between external heirarchy and the inward perpection of God's love. In Catholic thought the two are never to be separated or opposed to each other. Period.

Benedict XVI, From Zenit:

"In general, in Ignatius' letters, we can see a sort of constant and fruitful dialectic between the two aspects characteristic of Christian life: on one hand the hierarchical structure of the ecclesial community, and on the other hand, the fundamental union that links all the faithful in Christ. Therefore the roles cannot be opposed."

On the contrary, the insistence on communion of the faithful among themselves and with their pastors is continually formulated through eloquent images and analogies: the harp, the chords, the tone, the concert, the symphony."

The Pope contended that the "specific responsibility of the bishops, the presbyters and the deacons in the building of the community is evident. To them above all, the invitation to love and union is valid"

The Holy Father called Ignatius a "doctor of unity," and said that his example "invites the faithful of yesterday and today, invites us all, to a progressive synthesis between configuration to Christ -- union with him, life in him -- and dedication to his Church -- union with the bishop, generous service to the community and to the world."

"In other words, one must achieve a synthesis between communion of the Church within itself and the mission of proclamation of the Gospel to others, until one dimension speaks through the other, and believers are evermore 'in possession of that indivisible spirit that is Jesus Christ himself,'" the Pope added. Benedict XVI concluded, praying "that the Lord may help us in achieving this unity and to be found without sin, because love purifies the spirit."

Desire of all nations, come!

I am often asked why I became Roman Catholic. One part of my conversion was falling in love with the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. I had always loved the physicality of faith and as a Lutheran Pastor I had relished it. Light the candles, put on the alb and stole. Swing the incense and use the holy water, but not too much or too often, lest someone accuse you of being a “Papist.”

I had all of the “playschool” Catholic accoutrement. I used the outward trappings, and also prayed a daily office. Fiirst it was the Episcopalian (BCP) then Lutheran (LBW) and finally in the later years the Roman Catholic Liturgy of the Hours. But even that was never enough.

Slowly, over a period of years, I conceived an intense desire to spend time with Jesus as He was present in the Eucharist. I began to visit the local Catholic Church, being careful to park in the adjacent public library parking lot so as to not arouse parishioner suspicions. I spent some lovely afternoons praying quietly with our Lord. I pondered what to do with this underground, if not illicit, love affair.

I had more or less always conceived of myself as an Evangelical Catholic, a code name for “High Church” Lutherans. Then I did eventually become Roman Catholic in 1998. But it wasn’t until Valentine’s Day 2003 that I understood the visceral connection between the physicality of the Eucharist and my own spirituality.

I “happened to” attend a conference on “Theology of the Body” led by Christopher West. I can’t quite explain here how John Paul II’s Theology of the Body connects- it’s way too complicated. Suffice it to say that I realized that my love affair with the Eucharist is really part of a larger physical connection with Divine Self-Giving Love. A true Desire… a physical desire met by God’s physical, “real” embodied provision of the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, of His Son given for us.

This human clay aches for an affirmation of our physicality and its true goodness. The Eucharist is God’s ringing affirmation of that embodiment. So, our Advent waiting places within each of us the Desire of all. The Feast of the Nativity marks the beginning of its fulfillment. Our daily worship at God’s Altar applies that self-giving love to our hungry souls and bodies.

O King of the Gentiles and the Desired of all,
you are the cornerstone that binds two into one.
Come, and save poor humanity,
whom you fashioned out of clay.