John’s Gospel opens with the anthem, the Word became flesh and dwelt among us; now we hear what’s going to happen to that flesh. It’s going to be given up; it’s going to be eaten.
When it comes to someone’s flesh, being “given up” and “eaten” sound dreadful. That dread is behind the Jews’ protest. They’re not so concerned about the prospect of cannibalism. That’s forbidden by the Law and they show no sign of breaking it. Their question doesn’t run, “How can we possibly stomach this man’s flesh?”, but “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” They’re concerned because they cannot see what we can: they cannot see the table of the last Passover, the sacrifice of the cross, and the new life of the empty tomb. The Lord will survive giving his flesh to eat, because he lives for ever.
Sight of the Passover table, cross, and empty tomb is vital to us as we approach Holy Communion. Our faith gets exercised when we approach the altar for the sacrament. A good reception of Holy Communion includes going back to the Passover table, cross, and tomb: those are the places where the Lord gave his flesh for the life of the world. And we, keeping the events of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday lovingly in mind, fulfil this passage of Scripture by eating the Lord’s flesh in Holy Communion. At that moment, as we progress closer towards the altar, we are praying that what happened to his flesh in a painful way would happen to ours in a painless one.
The Lord’s flesh after his resurrection was remarkable for its strange abilities: he could walk through locked doors, eat fish without digestion, appear in light to Paul and friendship with his old companions, and be present in many places at the same time. We know that the Lord has taken human flesh to his Father’s side in glory, and so we can say his flesh has the same kinds of properties as God himself does. The Lord’s body is inexhaustible. Our Holy Communions are never going to exhaust the Lord’s gift of himself. We cannot use him up any more than we can exhaust God’s love, wisdom, and power. The Lord’s body is adorable (not cute, but adorable!), worthy of adoration, just as God is. We adore the Blessed Sacrament in Holy Communion, as also at other times, both liturgical and private. This is the flesh which we are taking into ourselves at Holy Communion, praying that God would make us in our flesh also impassible and clear like light.
We know this raising into the Lord’s life through Holy Communion isn’t automatic. We still go on to live the rest of our mortal lives. That’s a good thing: this life is the arena of virtue; it’s where we rise from our sins by working with divine grace. If our lives ended with Holy Communion, perhaps no one would come. Similarly, if the Lord gave us his body and blood without the benefit of the sacrament, that we would have to eat human flesh and drink thick red blood, no one would come to Mass. Instead, we have the great gift of the sacrament which transforms our daily life, and brings us bit by bit closer to the life of heaven.
Our eternal life is underway. We have died to sin in baptism and confession. We are on our way now towards the table, cross, and empty tomb, where we shall find the Lord waiting for us, continually giving himself to us. He promises that, if we receive his sacrament with lively faith in him risen from the tomb after the death of the cross, we have eternal life. All glory be to him.
Fr Paul Rowse, OP
Parish Priest
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