Corpus Christi
The Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ June 22, 2025
Genesis 14:18-20; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; Luke 9:11b-17
Dominic Tang, the courageous Chinese archbishop, was imprisoned for twenty-one years for nothing more than his loyalty to Christ and Christ’s one, true Church. After five years of solitary confinement in a windowless, damp cell, he was told by his jailers that he could leave it for a few hours to do whatever he wanted. Five years of solitary confinement and he had a couple of hours to do what he wanted! What would it be? A hot shower? A change of clothes? Certainly a long walk outside? A chance to call or write to family? What would it be, the jailer asked him. “I would like to say Mass,” replied Archbishop Tang.
The Vietnamese Jesuit, Joseph Nguyen-Cong Doan, who spent nine years in labour camps in Vietnam, relates how he was finally able to say Mass when a fellow priest-prisoner shared some of his own smuggled supplies. “That night, when the other prisoners were asleep, lying on the floor of my cell, I celebrated Mass with tears of joy. My altar was my blanket, my prison clothes my vestments. But I felt myself at the heart of humanity and of the whole of creation.” Today’s feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Jesus constantly calls us beyond ourselves to sacrificial love for others.
The Feast sums up three important confessions about our Faith. First is that God became physically present in the person of Christ, True God and True Man. Secondly, God continues to be present in His people as form the Mystical Body of Christ in his church. And thirdly, the presence of God under the form of bread and wine is made available to us on the altar at Mass and preserved there for our nourishment and worship.
In the first reading, we encounter a mysterious figure-Melchizedek, king of Salem and priest of God Most High. He brings out bread and wine and blesses Abram, recognizing the hand of God in Abram’s victory. Melchizedek appears out of nowhere and disappears just as suddenly-his role is deeply symbolic. He offers bread and wine not as a casual gesture but as a sacred act of thanksgiving. This foreshadows Christ, who will offer not bread and wine alone, but His very Body and Blood.
In Melchizedek’s action, we already see God preparing humanity to recognize the sacredness of the meal-of nourishment that goes beyond the physical.
The Gospel takes us to a familiar scene: Jesus surrounded by a large crowd, hungry and far from home. The disciples want to send them away to find food, but Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.” They reply, “We have only five loaves and two fish.” But in the hands of Jesus, little becomes abundant. He blesses, breaks, and gives the bread-a rhythm that echoes the Last Supper and the Mass.
This miracle is not just about feeding bodies-it’s a foretaste of the Eucharist. Jesus satisfies their physical hunger, but more deeply, He reveals Himself as the one who truly nourishes.
The Eucharist: Mystery, Meal, and Mission
The feast of Corpus Christi invites us to reflect deeply on three dimensions of the Eucharist:
a) The Eucharist as Mystery
In the Eucharist, bread and wine become the Body and Blood of Christ. This is not merely symbolic. As Catholics, we believe in the Real Presence—that Jesus is truly present in the consecrated host and chalice. This is the mystery that has sustained saints and martyrs, missionaries and mystics.
It is a divine paradox: Heaven comes to Earth in the smallest of forms.
b) The Eucharist as Meal
Jesus gave us the Eucharist during a meal, the Last Supper. He wanted us to understand that to be His follower is to gather, to share, to break bread together. The table is the place of communion, forgiveness, and inclusion.
We are invited not as worthy guests, but as sinners loved and called. No one earns a seat at this table-it is Christ who invites.
c) The Eucharist as Mission
“Do this in memory of me” is not only about repeating a ritual. It’s about living what we celebrate.
We become what we receive. The Body of Christ in the Eucharist sends us to be the Body of Christ in the world: Feeding the hungry, Comforting the suffering, Reconciling with enemies, Welcoming the outsider.
To receive Christ and walk past the poor is a contradiction. The Eucharist compels us to live with compassion.
Let us conclude the reflections with this short anecdote: On a hill near Cape Town, South Africa, just below the famed Table Mountain, a gun is fired every day at noon. The hill is known as Signal Hill. The firing of the gun once served a beautiful purpose. It signaled that a ship, on its way to or from India, had arrived in the harbour with a cargo of goods, and was in need of supplies of food and fresh water. A beautiful exchange resulted. There was receiving and giving. But that was a long time ago. The purpose no longer exists. Yet the gun is still fired dutifully every day. However, the firing is now little more than an empty ritual. Once it had a beautiful meaning. Now the meaning has gone out of it. Most of the local people ignore it. Visitors are told, 'If you hear a loud bang at mid-day, don't worry. It's only the gun going off.' However the ritual still has one thing going for it. Most people know the story behind it. If that story were to be lost, then the ritual would become poorer still.
The Eucharist celebrates a wonderful event - the gift which Jesus made of his life on our behalf. Every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we tell that story again. But like anything that is repeated over and over again, there is a danger that it may become just a ritual.
Let us come before the altar not as holy people, but let us know that this altar makes us holy.
Happy Feast