Corpus Christi (A)
Though the Easter season officially ended two weeks ago at Pentecost, the Church has added a kind of epilogue to it by celebrating feasts on the two Sundays that follow Pentecost. Last week, we celebrated Trinity Sunday, which gave us the opportunity to focus even more directly on the triune God. This Sunday, we celebrate Corpus Christi, the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, which shifts the focus to how the Lord builds up the Church.
Usually, when we reflect on the feast of Corpus Christi, we focus on the Sacrament of the Eucharist itself. We call to mind how it is the Real Presence of the Lord among us. We have Eucharistic processions and Adoration. We do very well to do these things, and more.
At the same time, it is important for us to recall why the Lord gave us this Sacrament in the first place. When an adult becomes a Catholic, the final step in that person’s initiation is to share the Eucharist with us. The Eucharist creates the Church and sustains it. The Eucharist defines what the Church is. In the early Church, the Eucharist was often described as the food of immortality. It is a sharing in Christ Himself. It also transforms us into His Body, the Church. Through all the Sacraments – but especially through the Eucharist – the Lord reveals to us the emptiness of all that divides us and that he alone is our true source of unity and peace. It is in Him, and Him alone, that we cease being merely Jew or Greek, male or female, black, white, brown, or any other race. In Him all that divides us is broken down, and we are one with Him, with all who share our faith, and with all of creation.
The murder of George Floyd and its aftermath have shown us how deep are the divisions among us. The solutions that are being offered, whatever their intent may be, cannot heal these divisions by themselves. Some solutions – greater and more honest dialogue, for one – may be of help. Others, such as “cancelling”, pulling down statues, editing of our history, can do no good at all and will only do more harm in the long run. If a certain kind of dogma is enforced, that will not eliminate the problems. It will only drive them underground to fester and eventually erupt again in even worse ways. Ignoring or editing our history will do us greater harm. By doing so, we merely deceive ourselves. We forget that each one of us carries the seeds of this and other evils. We forget that racism, as terrible as it is, is often a symptom of deeper and more dangerous evils that lurk in all of us, awaiting an opportunity to arise. Many people are using the situation for their own advantage, be they looters or politicians. Remember that some of the same people who preach inclusivity and diversity will come down hard on any black or brown person who dares to hold an opinion other than the “correct” one. Many “solutions” are mere power plays. Others will only aggravate or postpone the problem. Such divisions can only be healed in Christ.
Having said that, we must take a moment to acknowledge, as Catholics and other Christians, our own failures in this regard. I recall visiting an old Catholic parish church in the South and being told that the white Catholics sat in the pews, while that black Catholics had to sit up in the back loft. In New England, for many years there was tension between Catholics and Protestants. When my French Canadian ancestors began to arrive here in the late 19th century, they were spoken of in newspapers (even in the New York Times) in language very similar to what we see used for immigrants from many places now. Even among Catholics in Maine there were serious divisions. I recall a story of how the pastor of the “French” parish told his assistant priests that they were not to visit the priests of that “Irish” parish two blocks away. The reverse was just as true. Too often we have ignored the meaning of the Eucharist and have allowed secular attitudes to contaminate even the ways we worship and treat one another as Catholics and as Christians in general.
This contamination manifests itself in other ways. I know of a parish in another diocese that instituted a Sensory Friendly Room where people with autism (and with similar sensitivities) could go during Mass. The Mass can be seen on a TV screen. The audio is lower, lights are lower, so that being there is less painful and more welcoming for people with sensory issues. That parish just announced that they would be offering public Masses again, following diocesan and state guidelines. They said that they would open up their mezzanine for anyone who shows up without a reservation so that no one would be turned away. They would open up a couple of other rooms, but not the Sensory Friendly Room. Apparently, autistic people can be turned away, or at least made to feel unwelcome. When your community gathers to celebrate its oneness in Christ, who is really included? Who is being left out – even unintentionally?
As I have said before, we often measure vocations in the Church by the standards of our secular culture. Our culture prizes activity. We value active vocations more than contemplative ones. We too often value our own vocations over those of others – whatever ours may be. Secular culture may speak of “essential” and “non-essential” workers, but in the Church there is no such distinction. All are one in Christ. Everyone has an essential vocation, for each vocation comes from Christ, who alone builds up His Church. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I do not need you.” The head cannot say to the feet, “I do not need you.” If you find yourself drawn by the Lord and sincerely want to be a part of His Church, and yet do not feel welcome or accepted, odds are that the problem is not primarily with you. May the Lord heal our blindness and help us see as He sees.
This is a good moment for me to pass on this bit of news. For over a decade, I have felt consistently drawn by the Lord to a more contemplative lifestyle, a life that I might best live as a hermit for the Lord and His Church. For much of that time, it seemed that I was living more of an amphibian kind of lifestyle – partly contemplative, partly active, but not fully either. This was not satisfying and never enough. This is now changing, at last. I will be given retirement status as of July 1. I will no longer be expected to have ongoing parish ministry after that, though I am, of course, free to celebrate a Sunday or weekday Mass in a parish. I will be moving from my current rectory to make room for a priest who will be doing parish ministry here, and living in a place that should be more conducive to my vocation. I do this not because I do not like people or because I do not like parish ministry. I will miss many people here. I do not do this merely because I am autistic and find that celebrating Mass in a parish is very draining. I do this because it is my “yes” to the Lord’s invitation. That is the core of it all.
I will continue to post in this blog, and to write in Harvest (the diocesan magazine). I will continue to be involved in ministry with and for autistic people through autismconsecrated.com. What I will gain is the time and space to be more fully available to the Lord as he wills me to be. I will be no less a priest for being a hermit. The Lord will bless my diocese through me in ways I may never know. This is my “yes”, my expression of profound love and thanksgiving for all that the Lord has done for me and through me. I offer it – and myself – in immense love and gratitude to the Lord and for the Church and the world.
I will keep all of you in prayer. Please do the same for me.