The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ
Fr. Ben Riley
A few weeks ago, I was greeting people after Mass when a woman I did not recognize came up to me. She shook my hand, thanked me for the homily, and explained that she was visiting family members in town.
I welcomed her and thanked her for joining us. We exchanged a few minutes of small talk about where she was from and her travels.
Then she stopped and said, “Father, I just have to tell you something. I have been to many churches in my life. I’ve visited just about every Christian denomination, and I’ve got to say, God is present in this church. As soon as I walked through the doors, I could feel his presence.”
I thanked her for her kind words. I agreed that we have a wonderful parish community filled with faithful and loving people. That God is present in our church, and I invited her to visit again the next time she was in town.
It was a pleasant interaction, and I appreciated her comment. But later I found myself reflecting on what she said.
What if she had walked through those same doors and felt nothing?
What if she had come in tired, distracted, discouraged, or spiritually dry?
Would that mean God was not present? Well, of course not.
Yet many of us carry around the assumption that the spiritual life is measured by how we feel.
If I feel inspired, God must be close.
If I feel emotional during prayer, God must be working.
If I feel peaceful after Mass, then I must be growing spiritually. But if I feel nothing, perhaps God is distant.
The feast of Corpus Christi challenges that assumption.
Because the Eucharist teaches us that God’s presence does not depend on our feelings.
Listen again to what Jesus says in today’s Gospel:
“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”
He does not say, “Whoever feels my presence remains in me.”
He does not say, “Whoever has an emotional experience remains in me.”
He says, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”
The reality of Christ’s presence depends on his promise, not our emotions.
This is important because many faithful Catholics become discouraged in the spiritual life.
They pray faithfully but do not feel anything.
They come to Mass every Sunday but do not leave overwhelmed with spiritual excitement.
They spend time in adoration but find themselves distracted.
They go to confession, sincerely repent, and yet still struggle with the same sins.
And so they begin to wonder if anything is really happening. But perhaps it’s the wrong question.
The purpose of the Eucharist is not primarily an emotional experience.
The purpose of the Eucharist is transformation. Think about a child sitting down to dinner.
After one meal, the child does not suddenly feel taller.
He does not feel his bones growing or his muscles developing.
In fact, if you asked him whether the meal accomplished anything, he might say no.
But the parents know better. Growth is happening.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Meal after meal.
Day after day.
Year after year.
The same is true in the spiritual life.
Every time we receive Holy Communion, Christ draws us more deeply into his life.
Every time we receive the Eucharist, he strengthens us against sin.
Every time we receive the Eucharist, he increases sanctifying grace within us.
Every time we receive the Eucharist, he conforms us a little more to himself.
Whether we feel it or not.
That is why today’s Gospel is so extraordinary. Jesus does not simply promise to give us something. He promises to give us himself.
In the first reading, God fed Israel with manna in the desert. It was miraculous bread from heaven.
But it was only a foreshadowing.
Jesus says, “Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.”
The manna sustained physical life. The Eucharist gives divine life.
The manna was a gift from God. The Eucharist is God.
That is the great mystery we celebrate today.
The purpose of Christianity is not merely to receive blessings from God.
Health is a blessing. Family is a blessing. Friendship is a blessing. Peace is a blessing.
Those are all wonderful things, and God is very generous with blessing us, His children.
But the greatest gift God can possibly give is not something from himself.
The greatest gift God gives is himself.
And that is exactly what he gives us in the Eucharist.
St. Paul says in today’s second reading, “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ?”
The Eucharist is not merely a reminder of Jesus. It is not merely a symbol of Jesus.
It is Jesus.
Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.
And because it is truly Jesus, it accomplishes something no ordinary food can accomplish.
Ordinary food becomes part of us.
The Eucharist causes us to become more like Christ.
The saints understood this well.
Some of the greatest saints experienced years of dryness in prayer.
Yet they became saints precisely because they remained faithful even when they did not feel God’s presence.
They trusted Christ’s promises more than their emotions. Perhaps that is the lesson we need to hear today.
The measure of our spiritual life is not how we feel. The measure of our spiritual life is our fidelity to Christ. Do we continue to pray when prayer feels dry?
Do we continue to come to Mass when we are distracted?
Do we continue to receive the sacraments when spiritual consolations are absent?
Do we continue to trust Christ’s promises even when we cannot feel his presence?
Because whether we feel it or not. Christ is present in this church.
“Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him.”
Today, as we celebrate Corpus Christi and come forward to receive Holy Communion, let us remember that we are receiving the greatest gift God could ever give.
Not merely a blessing. Not merely a symbol.
Not merely an experience. Not a feeling.
But Christ himself.
And if we remain faithful to him, he will continue his quiet work of transformation within us until the day when faith gives way to sight and we share in the eternal banquet of heaven.