Corpus Christi Sunday
June 2, 2002


When you think about this feast, which aspect do you focus on - The gift of Jesus in the Eucharist, or the reality of our transformation into the Body and Blood of Jesus?

I confess - it changes year by year. Sometimes when I approach this feast, I am filled with awe about God's love to us in Jesus. About the desire of Jesus to be real food, real bread, real sustenance for the journey. I'm drawn into contemplating the REAL PRESENCE - that the bread of angels has become our bread.

And my favorite two favorite quotes from that side of the mystery - one from a scholar in a commentary, the other from a 45-year-old Downs syndrome man. The scholar: "God needs the Eucharist more than you and I do." It is the way He fulfills his desire to be with us till the end of the ages. It allows him to continue the intimacy and union he began on here on earth. It becomes the concrete expression of his love for you and I. God needs this communion with us... It's a great thought to wrap some prayer around this week...

Leroy Lueke - the downs syndrome man, said it even more simply. At consecration of mass during camping for the mentally handicapped - in the only silence of the entire Mass, as the priest held up the chalice - came his strong voice. "Dat's blood. Dat comes from the heart..." Indeed it does.

But the other side of the story - about what we are transformed into - is the other amazing reality of this day. It is best illustrated by a story I read called the bag lady. It seems there was a ring of the doorbell on a Saturday afternoon in a parish in the south Bronx. The pastor answered the phone and there was a bag lady at the door. "Oh no" thought the pastor. "Father, may I come in?" SIGH. "Yes" She came in, and set her paper bag next to the chair. "Father, I have two things to give you today." The pastor was startled. Usually, it is the other way around. The first thing I have to give you is a story.

It seems there was this small town in Europe that had a very strange custom. On each child's 12th birthday, they were brought to the town square and sat down at a table. In front of them were two loaves of bread. Three times, the elders of the town would ask the child if they would eat the bread. And three times, the child would say no. Because there were stories about the people who had eaten the bread. Some of the stories said that the people who ate the bread disappeared. Some of the stories were about those who ate the bread and became slaves. Still others, were about children who ate the bread and died. No one living knew of anyone personally who had eaten te bread and disappeared or eaten and became a slave or eaten and died, but they trusted the stories. So no one ever ate the loaves. The loaves sat there on the table until the birds carried the last crumbs off, and then the table was taken down till the next child's turn.

John was a different child. Everyone knew that. He was different. So, as his 12 birthday approached, people wondered - would he heed the warnings? Or would he eat the bread. The day came, with much anticipation and a bit of fear. John sat down at the table. The loaves were set before him. The elders approached. "Will you eat the bread?" "Yes." came the clear reply... A man cried out - "John - remember the stories of those who ate the bread and disappeared. "Will you eat the bread?" "Yes", in an even louder voice. A woman in the crowd fainted. "Think of your mother, John, think of your family, remember those who ate the bread and became slaves. Remember those who ate the bread...and died." Looking sick to their stomach - the elders asked a third time. "Will you eat the bread?" "Yes!" in a proud voice. And to every one's horror, he sat there and ate the loaves, to the very last crumb.

"Did he disappear?" you might ask. Yes, but soon stories came back from neighboring towns and villages about this boy who was so loving and caring and doing such amazing things. Did he become a slave? Well, not really a slave, more like a servant. Because he put everyone else's needs before his own and spent all his time trying to tell people by word and example about love. And did he die? Actually, he was killed. Killed by the very people in his town. You see, when he returned, he did there the same things as in the other villages. The villagers would see in his loving kindness the people they were supposed to become in the eating of the bread, but hadn't - and they grew so jealous and hateful that they couldn't stand to see him - it so pricked their consciences. So they killed him, but stories came back to the village of how his spirit lived on in those who were touched by his love.

As the priest sat there, absorbing the story, the bag lady quickly got up from her seat and left the rectory. As the pastor got up to follow - he noticed she had left her bag by the chair. He picked it up, but by the time he got to the door, she was nowhere to be seen on the street. And then he remembered she had said two gifts. With more than a bit of trepidation, he looked into the bag. Sure enough, there were two loaves of bread there. And he knew that he too, had been given the bread to eat. That he too had a choice to make. Would he eat the loaves? Would he take the risk of disappearing and becoming a slave and dying? It was the bag lady's second gift.

This morning, the loaves are set before us as well. Will you eat the bread? Will you drink the cup? It is the invitation of our lives...