From the Deacon's Desk

I am not preaching today, but if interested, the following is a homily I delivered on the Feast of Corpus Christi BACK IN 2024:

On this feast of Corpus Christi, our focus needs to be on the Eucharist.

The Church describes the Eucharist as the source and summit of our faith. What does that mean? It is the source because it is foundational to what we believe as Christians. It is the starting point; it feeds us; it nourishes our soul. We can’t – we shouldn’t – live without the Eucharist.

It is the summit because it is where we aspire to be. Our end goal is perfect communion with God. We achieve that end – reach that summit – by continually nourishing ourselves with Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

The Eucharist serves as source and summit, the beginning and the end and everything in-between.

One of the true joys of being a deacon has been the opportunity to witness life-changing encounters others have had with the Eucharist and to experience some of my own. Here are just a few:

*The first week we were able to open the doors for Mass following the pandemic, there was so much joy in the church. During the distribution of Holy Communion, seeing the expressions on the faces of those receiving the Body of Christ was powerful. There were tears of joy and huge smiles that said, “Finally!” Hands were shaking as believers anticipated receiving Jesus after going so long without. I could sense the longing in their hearts.

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always have that longing.

*I have had the opportunity to assist at many First Communion Masses. They are some of my favorite Masses each year. To see the excitement and anticipation – the sense of awe and wonder – of a child receiving Christ in the Eucharist for the first time is beautiful. You can almost read in their little faces, “This is what I’ve been waiting for!”

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always experience a sense of awe and wonder.

*Prior to my friend Barb passing away last summer, I used to visit her regularly and bring her Communion. Each time she received the Eucharist, she closed her eyes and kept them closed for a couple of minutes. When she opened her eyes, we would say a final prayer and end our visit.

On one such occasion, I asked her about closing her eyes: “Barb, when you close your eyes after receiving Communion, what are you thinking about? Are you praying?”

She said, “I’m not really thinking or praying. Every time I receive Communion – especially since I’ve been sick – I am at peace.”

I said, “I am told I have a calming effect on people. Maybe you are at peace because of your visit with me.”

She said, “I love you, Rick, but this peace does NOT come from you!”

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always have a sense of peace upon receiving Holy Communion.

*On the feast of our school’s patroness each year, we celebrate with an all-school Mass followed by a Eucharistic procession. We dismiss staff and students first so that they can line both sides of the path we will take for the procession. As we process, each person drops to his or her knees as the Eucharist draws near and passes. They are silent and bow their heads reverently. Everyone does it – Catholic and non-Catholic, freshmen and seniors, administrators and custodians, visitors who happen to be in the building that day – all kneel and bow their head. It gives me chills each time I witness it.

You may think it is impossible to get 1,000 people to kneel in silent reverence for the duration of a procession. For you and me it would be impossible, but not for Christ in the Eucharist.

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always show such reverence.

*I have one more encounter with the Eucharist I have never shared publicly – only with my wife and a few friends. We offer Mass at school for approximately 150 students each day. One day a couple of years ago, our chaplain called to tell me he would be unable to celebrate Mass and asked if I could lead a Communion service instead. I agreed to do so. He warned me there were not enough consecrated hosts in the tabernacle, so I would need to break the hosts as needed to accommodate.

I checked the ciborium in the tabernacle prior to the Communion service. Father was right, there was perhaps 50-60 hosts. I would definitely need to break the hosts in half or perhaps even in thirds when the time came to distribute Communion. I placed the ciborium back in the tabernacle and prepared the chapel for the service.

The students and staff scheduled for Mass that day filled the chapel. I explained that Father would not be with us, but I would offer a Communion service instead. I proceeded to do just that.

When the time came for the distribution of Holy Communion, I retrieved the ciborium from the tabernacle and placed it on the altar. When I took the lid off, the ciborium was full – more than enough hosts for all in attendance.

The few people with whom I have shared the story offered possible explanations. I politely listened to their theories, but I know in my heart what happened. The loaves and fishes story was played out right before my eyes, and I am so grateful for that.

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always accept the possibility of a miracle.

Speaking of miracles: In anticipation of the National Eucharistic Congress taking place this summer, we recently brought the Eucharistic Miracles of the World exhibit to St. Pius. The display boards detailed many of the confirmed Eucharistic miracles that have taken place throughout the ages.

The modern-day encounters I just shared with you, while not as dramatic, are also powerful and tell the same story – Christ is truly present in our experience of the Eucharist.

There is a miracle that takes place at each Mass and is often overlooked. Each time we come forward to receive Holy Communion, the Communion minister says, “The Body of Christ,” to which we respond, “Amen.”

Our “Amen” – “I believe” – acknowledges the miracle that took place just moments earlier: wheat wafers and altar wine were transformed into the true Body and Precious Blood of Jesus.

Often forgotten in the exchange is that the words, “The Body of Christ” also signal that we are active members of the Body of Christ. Our “Amen” means we accept the responsibility that comes along with it.

The overlooked miracle is that we entered the church as individuals and leave as unified Eucharistic messengers, charged with sharing our faith and nourishing others. We too have been transformed.

If we truly believed in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, we should always say “Amen” with conviction and purpose, and do the work we are called to do.