Turns out, I may not be crazy after all. “Crazed,” perhaps. But not crazy.
For some months now, I’ve found myself wiping my eyes … and wiping my lenses … trying to rid my field of vision from a persistent fog. I could see, but not well. Nothing seemed sharply “in focus,” especially not words on a page.
Cataracts, perhaps? At my age, certainly a possibility. But when I finally got around to consulting optical professionals, l learned that my eyeglasses were the culprit. The protective coating on the lenses had become crazed – so no amount of cleaning would ever help me see clearly again.
When the new glasses arrived this week, I found myself wondering why I’d waited so long to make the change. It really is nice to be able to gaze upon creation’s beauty in its fullness! And it makes me ponder, too, how other simple changes in my life might possibly lead to profound improvements.
One of my almost-daily habits, for instance, is the Eucharist. I go to early Mass most days of the week – and a fuller parish celebration on Sundays. “Habits” being key word there. Caught up in the discipline of a daily rhythm, it can be easy to lose sight of what’s actually happening through the grace of this holy habit. “Routine” can rob me of clarity around the Real Presence of Christ in these frequent celebrations of the Eucharist.
This is no ritual commemoration of the Last Supper – or certainly not only that. It is a present gift, a current pouring-out of Christ’s living bread. And the gift comes with an obligation for those of us who receive it: “My flesh [given] for the life of the world,” Jesus says in today’s gospel passage.
So, what does that look like exactly?
For starters, it means recognizing that daily Mass is not really about me, about Jesus coming in the flesh to cure my persistent sinfulness and neuroses. Rather, it’s about me allowing Christ to live in me.
It’s about learning to walk humbly – with the Lord inside me – to do what I can to relieve pain and suffering in a still-broken world. It’s about me praying, too – praying that the Christ-molecules present in the Eucharist remain present in everyone who’s ever consumed them. Present, especially, in those who today often say “no thanks” to the gift that’s always being offered to them.
Jesus knew, right from the start, that this gift of his presence would be hard for people to accept. “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” they said, quarreling amongst themselves.
It’s a crazy notion – one that can (and does) lead to fights, even among believers. But what if Jesus actually meant what he said in John 6?
Something perhaps for us to gaze upon more deeply today … as we mark the feast of Corpus Christi, the heavenly food given (then and now) for the life of the world.
Let us pause now…to recall that we are in the presence of the Holy & Merciful One.
IHS
With Us Still 