EUCHARISTIC FAITH

 EUCHARISTIC FAITH

Let me relate an incident in the life of Mother Teresa. On one occasion she was visiting in South America and was walking towards a poverty stricken village, accompanied by a few of her sisters and some press photographers - since by then she was quite famous. As Mother approached the edge of the village, the children out to meet her, screaming with delight, holding and kissing her hands, dancing round her as she walked on. The poor village elders waited to greet her. The press reporters exchanged glances and speculated what these people would ask of her:  some tins sheets for their shanty houses, bags of broken wheat and milk powder, used and oversized clothes from Germany? So they were flabbergasted when Mother reached the group and they extended their hands and said:  “Mother, give us God. Mother, give us God!”

Some years ago, I spent a month in Nainital, staying in St. Francis’ Church, overlooking the lake. One morning, after Mass I stood outside the church by the railing of the church property. Two senior school girls, apparently Punjabi Hindus, walked right up to me and said, “Father, please open the church; we want to see God.”  Their request sounded very sincere, and the point is that it seemed to echo the request the poor of that South American village made to Mother Teresa: “Mother, give us God.” Let’s admit it: under the refinery of riches and the rags of poverty there is a hunger for God, of which the hunger for material bread is but a pale reflection.  God knows about this hunger; he placed it there deep in the pit of our beings. The hunger for divine reality is somewhat continuous with but of a much higher nature than our hunger for food and drink, our craving for appreciation and affection, our desire for immortality. The Holy Eucharist reminds us of that mystery within us that we must always keep open and alive and not smother by gluttony for material food, drink and worldly pleasure.

You must know this beautiful little verse

addressed to the Holy Eucharist:

“Heavenly sweetness unalloyed

Who eat thee hunger still;

Who drink of thee still feel a void

Which only thou canst fill.”

To paraphrase Ignatius of Antioch, in the Eucharist we not only puts our arms round Jesus but more importantly he squeezes us with a resounding bear hug. He just about takes our breath away. You cannot get any closer than that; and you probably don’t want to.

We have to admit, though, that when Jesus offered his flesh as the bread to eat and his blood as drink, he must surely have sounded as hard as nails. The Jews took Jesus’ words in a crass, material sense, and were shocked. But they need not have been, if only they had faith in him.

 When confronted with mystery, my advice is, “Believe now, understand later.” Jesus’ response to his shocked hearers was not to water down his teaching but to reinforce it and drive it home. Over the centuries, we Christians have come to understand that the “bread’ or the “flesh” is the person of Jesus, who gives himself in the Eucharist as food, which nourishes, supports and strengthens us, bringing us the fulfilment of our deepest needs and desires, and therefore profound joy. By eating his flesh, an intimate union of minds and hearts, an identity of ideals and attitudes emerges, so that it is no longer a merely human life we live, but Jesus Christ lives in us, and we are assimilated to him. {When you eat anything, the material you eat becomes your body; your body takes over. This is called assimilation. But when you receive Holy Communion, you become part of the Body of Christ, who takes over.}

If partaking of the Eucharist means anything, then it must mean transformation and renewal of mind and heart, becoming more Christ like. This is not some crude magical act. The Eucharist is the pledge and source of eternal life only to those who allow themselves to be “drawn into”, who consciously and freely “come to” Jesus in faith and self-surrender.

Let us now focus a little on our dear Lord Jesus himself. When cruel men were weaving the darkest plots against him, he was busy giving them the most precious gift he has. When they were only thinking of setting up an infamous cross to kill him, he was only thinking of setting up an altar to sacrifice himself daily for us. When they were preparing to shed his blood, the same Jesus Christ offered us his precious Blood as the drink of immortality, consolation and happiness. My dear friends, if you are in difficulties and sorrow, he will comfort and lighten your heart. If you are ill, he will heal you or strengthen you.

If the devil, the world and the flesh are battling against you, he will give you the weapons for resisting and winning. If you are poor, he will share his wealth with you for time and eternity. Allow yourself to be wrapped around by his love, and you will see what a loving God can do.

 And I get my cue from St. Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor of theology, who stated that a clear sign of one’s predestination was a special love of the Holy Eucharist. In other words, if over the years you have developed a loving habit of spending some time every day praying before the Blessed Sacrament, let me assure you that you are marked out for heaven; you’re probably there already; your life on earth is only a shadow, and death makes no difference.

To the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, Jesus said, “I have water you know not of, springing up unto everlasting life.” And the woman said, “Sir, give me this water.” To the people on the hillside he declared, “I am the Bread of life.” And they said, “Sir, give us this bread.” On the Feast of Tabernacles Jesus stood up in the Temple and cried out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink.” And to him we reply, “Lord, slake our thirst as only you can.”

St. Thomas Aquinas wrote a good amount of Latin poetry extolling the Holy Eucharist, which is still sung in the original. One such is the “Adoro te devote,” the final verse of which goes like this:

“Jesu quem velatum nunc adspicio

Oro fiat illud quod tam sitio

Ut te revelata cernens facie

Visu sim beatus tuae gloriae.”

And that could be our prayer, if you don’t mind my translation:

“Jesus, whom now veiled I see,

I pray that what I so thirst for will be

That I may see thy countenance unfolding

And may be blessed thy glory in beholding”.