A Boring, Doctrinal Homily on the Eucharist

The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

If you heard my homily last Sunday, you heard me reflect upon the mystery of the Trinity by way of an imagined, Socratic dialogue between me and my dog. You might have also had hopes for a sequel this Sunday, as the Church invites our contemplation upon the mystery of the Eucharist. All I will say is that the thought did cross my mind, but a homily of another sort seemed better suited to the occasion. My approach today will be more straightforward, because there is a lot that can and needs to be said in regard to the Eucharist, and I don’t want to waste any time. So, what you’re getting today is a boring, doctrinal homily on the Eucharist. Truly, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

There are three dimensions to the Eucharist that are equally important: sacrifice, presence, and communion. What I hope to show in the course of this homily is that understanding the mystery of the Eucharist requires a firm grasp of all three, and attempting to do away with one necessarily collapses the others.  

The Eucharist is first about sacrifice. In the First Reading from Exodus, we heard how Moses erected an altar at the foot of the mountain, offered a holocaust of young bulls upon it, and sprinkled the blood upon the altar and on the people. Why does Moses do this? God has just given the law to him, and Moses has read it aloud to the people. The sacrifice offered by Moses is made on account of the bond that has been established between God and the people: God has given the law, and the people have agreed to follow it. The blood—the symbol in many cultures and religions of union—is to remind the people of the covenant into which they and God have mutually agreed to enter: “This is the blood of the covenant that the LORD has made with you in accordance with these words of his.”

At the Last Supper, in instituting the new and eternal covenant, Jesus commands his disciples to do what he has done in his memory: “This is the blood of the covenant, which will be shed for many.” But this covenant is different than the one before, and the sign of the covenant is also greater. Whereas in the old covenant, the relationship between God and the people was expressed through the sacrifice of animals, in the new covenant, it is Christ himself who is sacrificed and Christ himself who makes our reconciliation with God. Thus the Letter to the Hebrews teaches: “For if the blood of goats and bulls and the sprinkling of a heifer's ashes can sanctify those who are defiled so that their flesh is cleansed, how much more will the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself unblemished to God, cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God.” When we celebrate the Eucharist, we are faithful to Jesus’ command, and the covenant he made with us through his Blood is renewed as we receive it—not sprinkled upon our heads but received into our bodies and souls.

At this point, I need to call a dogmatic sidebar to make sure everyone is aware that the Church teaches that the whole of Christ is contained in both species of the Eucharist—that is to say, when you receive the Host, you receive all of Christ, both his Body and his Blood. Though we do not currently offer the Precious Blood to the faithful, I guarantee that you are not missing out on anything whatsoever. You still receive the Blood of Jesus when you receive the Host.

Now, when we participate in Mass and when we receive the Eucharist, we participate and commune in the very sacrifice of Christ upon Calvary. Saint John Paul II wrote, “The Church constantly draws her life from the redeeming sacrifice; she approaches it not only through faith-filled remembrance, but also through a real contact, since this sacrifice is made present ever anew, sacramentally perpetuated, in every community which offers it at the hands of the consecrated minister” (Ecclesia de Eucharistia, 12). For this reason, our participation in Mass and reception of the Eucharist is infinitely valuable, for us and for the world, because it is nothing less than the sacrifice of Christ which saved us and the world that we approach and enter. And for this reason, there is nothing more important that we could ever possibly do.

The Eucharist is second about presence. Because Christ gave us his sacrifice as the new and eternal covenant, it stays with us—rather, Christ stays with us through his sacrifice. The words that Christ spoke two thousand years ago in the Upper Room are repeated by the priest, not merely calling to mind a historical event but speaking them anew as Christ making his presence among us real: “This is my Body,” “This is my Blood.” But Christ’s presence isn’t limited to just our Eucharistic celebration. Jesus does not ascend back up into heaven as soon as Mass is over. No, he stays with us, present among us in the tabernacle in which the Eucharist is reserved. This is why we genuflect whenever we pass it. This is why we spend time in personal prayer before it and adore the Blessed Sacrament when it is exposed before us: because the Son of God remains present among us in the holy Eucharist. Every person in the world wonders, in some way or another, where is God. Catholics have a definitive answer: right there, in the tabernacle, because he promised to stay with us until the end of the age.

Finally, the Eucharist is third about communion. Saint Thomas Aquinas, in the great sequence he composed for the feast of Corpus Christi, gives us this beautiful statement of the Eucharist as communion: “Thousands are, as one, receivers, / One, as thousands of believers, / Eats of him who cannot waste.” In the Eucharist, Christ communes with us. He enters into our body, and we enter into his; and because this happens to everyone who believes in him and receives him, we are brought into communion with each other, as the members of Christ’s Body are by the Eucharist more deeply united. Thus, the thousands become one. This is why the Eucharist is received most fittingly in the context of the celebration of Mass. Though we do bring Communion to those who are sick, homebound, or in prison, this is not meant to be done in isolation from the community but as an extension of the community reaching out to those who cannot be with us in person, so that they know that they are also part of the Body of Christ and, by the Eucharist, grow into greater Communion with us and us with them.

The upshot of keeping these three dimensions—sacrifice, presence, and communion—together is maintaining the Eucharist’s relevance for our lives. Without sacrifice, the Eucharist is a nice but empty symbol. It lacks any true meaning or purpose if it is not the sacrifice of Christ. Without presence, then we gather to reenact the Lord’s death, but it remains at a distance from us as an event of history that bears no relation on our life today. And without communion, then we receive the Eucharist merely for ourselves—for my good, and for my salvation, rather than for us and for ours—and thus we fail to give ourselves away in the manner of Christ, who was sacrificed for us and who continually gives himself to us in the Most Blessed Sacrament of the Altar. And so, the three stand or fall together.

The Church gives us the great feast of Corpus Christi to focus our attention completely upon the greatest gift the good Lord has given us—a gift that we all too easily and often overlook and ignore. On this day, may he grant us the grace to know every time we come to Mass that we enter anew into Christ’s sacrifice, that we encounter and commune with his abiding presence, and that we are bound more closely as members of his Body the Church.

Homily given June 1/2, 2024 at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen and Saint Thomas Aquinas Parish