Sermon for Corpus Christi
CORPUS CHRISTI [C]
Back in 1966, movie-goers were being taken on a “Fantastic Voyage.” What makes it so fantastic? It’s all about becoming small—microscopically small. The assignment? Traveling by way of the human bloodstream, you will seek out and neutralize a clot that has formed on the brain of a comatose patient. Who is this patient? He happens to be a high ranking scientist who has chosen to defect. This will potentially create a balance-of-power issue between the United States and the U.S.S.R. The Soviets would rather assassinate this scientist than have him working for the Americans. The attempt comes very close to being a successful attempt. The man is in a coma and will likely die, unless the clot can be dissolved.
The good news, according to the script, is that an actual technology exists through which people and objects can in fact be miniaturized. It is a technology shared by both of the superpowers. The bad news is that the effect lasts for only one hour. Once the hour has passed, you will begin to grow back to your original size. The stricken scientist, however, has been making progress in his research. He is preparing to announce a breakthrough: he believes that the miniaturization effect can be extended, perhaps indefinitely. But that knowledge remains locked away, deep within the recesses of his gifted mind. It might go with him, into the grave. This explains the objective: you are part of a specialized crew; you are in the process of becoming small; and it’s all for the sake of saving somebody who needs to be saved. See if it can be done inside of sixty minutes.
It turns out that we likewise need to be saved. Thankfully, the Lord knows how to respond. We acknowledge his response when we arrive at the date of December 25th. What did we celebrate on December 25th? We celebrated our Lord—specifically, we celebrated our Lord “becoming small.” He takes on the form of a little baby. It’s what we call an Article of Faith. The expectation is that we will accept this teaching, intellectually and spiritually. And we do so, joyfully. It’s not too much to ask. We always look forward to honoring the season of Christmas. Of course, we know that Christmas has come and gone. Now we are being called upon to celebrate the Feast of Corpus Christi (a title that derives from the Latin, meaning “The Body of Christ”). Are we up for a feast-day that centers upon the theology of the Eucharist? Are we inclined to celebrate? We’re always up for the celebration of Christmas. We’re enchanted by the concept of a majestic God who becomes small enough to fit into a manger. It’s a doctrine that we embrace, and we embrace it enthusiastically.
How do we feel about shifting to another doctrine—a doctrine of a different color? We embrace the notion of our Lord becoming small at Christmastide. Can we get excited about a Lord who becomes small sacramentally? He reduces himself at the Nativity by becoming small enough to fit into a manger. Can we appreciate the fact that a manger is a feeding trough? Can we make the connection? Or is it too much to ask? He can become small in the one sense. But we’re not prepared to accept him as being present in that small Eucharistic Host. We’re ready to take the Christian step, recognizing the miracle of the Nativity. But we’re not ready to take this explicitly CATHOLIC step. Don’t talk to us about the miracle of the Eucharist. Ironically, many of these hold-outs are actually baptized Catholics. Polls from the not-too-distant past reflect a general lack of belief. Roughly 65% of the Catholics surveyed indicated that they can’t bring themselves to recognize Jesus in the consecrated Bread and Wine.
Essentially, they’re saying yes to the one miracle and no to the other miracle. Why is the one miracle so palatable, and the other miracle so out-of-the-question? It adds up to a logical inconsistency, especially when we take into account the Last Supper narratives and the instruction recorded in John chapter six. Jesus picks up the bread and describes it literally as “his body” (Matt. 26:26; MK 14:22; LK 22:19). The Bread he gives needs to be understood as “his flesh” given for the life of the world; if you “eat” this Bread, you will live forever (John 6:51). It’s an inconsistency, allowing the one miracle while denying the other miracle. It’s an inconsistency, being Catholic, but stopping short of adopting this particularly Catholic belief.
Do they offer an explanation? The surveys simply call for a yes or a no. If you are among the 65%, it means you’re willing to take the Christian step: you’re okay with the line “come let us adore him”---if it’s referring to the Christ-Child in Bethlehem. But you’re refusing to take the explicitly Catholic step: adoring Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. Is it a matter of conviction for you? Or is it something more cynical? Perhaps it worries you that giving assent to the Catholic sacramental vision will obligate you to accept the Catholic vision of morality. In other words, it concerns you that your way of life may have to undergo some degree of change. You’re on safe ground with Christmas. Being Christian is enough. It’s risky being Catholic.