Corpus Christi Feast

“While fewer people participate in Sunday Eucharist, could it be that the problem is not so much a certain fatigue or dissatisfaction about how mass is celebrated, but rather the lack of awareness and pride of being part of a people, part of a community which is happy to be God’s people?” ~ Jean-Pierre Prevost

Feast days on Sundays are flowing lately: Pentecost, Ascension, Trinity, and today, the Body and Blood of Christ, formerly called Corpus Christi. We are a blessed people when we take advantage of celebrating these feasts with joy and acceptance of the Mysteries they represent.

Today’s feast celebrates the sacrament that allows us to come to the table and have our lives filled to satisfaction by participating in this communal meal of bread and wine, the Body and Blood of Christ. Here we are healed, not only as individuals but also as a community. As I struggle to remain in my spiritual home of twenty-five years, I often suspect people do not get what this aspect of Church is all about. We are one body and yes, while church-hopping or finding a new home may provide me with a “good meal” and allows me to partake in the sacrament as a larger body, it does not nourish me as dining with my spiritual family who I have come to know and love with all its dysfunctions and foibles. My puzzlement at people’s ability to walk away and “experiment” with other religions has taken some flack. I am not saying that Catholicism is best but as a Catholic, I wonder if people truly understand what we do during the mass, especially on days like today that recognize the Mystery of our faith. The lack of fidelity to the Body of Christ that is home to me frustrates me. Several people close to me have encouraged me to “just find a different church that works for you.”

The truth of the matter is I want this church to work for me. One of my friends has been praying intently for me, keeping my struggle in her prayers, entrusting my pain to the One we worship, simply because the thought of losing me in the community is like someone cutting off her arm. She gets it. I grieve the loss of my community. It hurts me almost physically to see that the mass I attend is down two hundred people.

At last night’s party, I spoke to one of the people who does music now for us at the late mass. She has found it hard to fit in. We have not embraced the change whole-heartedly but as we discussed it she admitted that the former pastor and the music group who has been singing there for decades is really her favourite too. We were a well-fed flock then. Now we are in a time of drought and devastation.

Why then do I keep going to my community? Because the notion of being the Body and Blood of Christ resonates within me. Here at the table I am forgiven for all the sins I bring. Here at the table I am reconciled with my brothers and sisters. Here at the table I must believe that all things will be set right again. Here at the table I long to be whole again and not so broken by the failings of my parish and the Catholic Church as a whole.

Christ is there among us at the Eucharist. His life is poured out anew to sustain us for the challenging moments of the earthly journey. Christ is present not only in the Sacrament but in the people gathered there. Christ is present in the heavenly cloud of witnesses that have gone before us, creating a history that does not exist for me at other parishes. This is why I stay.

The priest invokes the Holy Spirit to come down on these gifts—and not just the bread and wine, but also on each of us gathered there. For me, because I have traveled so extensively in life, I often feel connected to my home community when I am away and to friends and family around the world when I am here during the Eucharist. This is one of the great Mysteries of the sacrament. I am happy to be one of God’s people in my spiritual community, and as a wider community of Church. I come forward to receive the Body and Blood of Christ and say Amen to the covenant represented, not just with God but with my beloved community. I want to be part of this community. God give me the graces I need to make it so.

Peace,

Suzanne