Homily – June 6, 2021, (ver. 6, 11:30 am Mass)
Corpus Christi ● Exodus 24:3-8 ● Psalm 116 ● Hebrews 9:11-15 ● + Mark 14:12-16, 22-26 ●
[__01__] In the very first Holy Communion and Corpus Christi mentioned in the Gospel today, the disciples are told to go and prepare the Passover supper at a location they have never seen. Jesus does not write down the address.
Rather, they are told to find in the
midst of the town a man carrying a water jar and that he would lead them to the
Upper Room.
Even Jesus is not explicit with his
own disciples. One reason is that he knew he was already being “stalked” , not
stalked online, or trolled in the media, but rather stalked by Judas Iscariot
his betrayer. Jesus wants to make sure he is not arrested before Passover, thus
he keeps the Last Supper address a secret until the last possible moment.
Otherwise, Judas might betray him too
soon.
Jesus gives us the Eucharist not to
produce a sensation and sense in us right away, but rather to give us the
sensibility to search for him, to listen to him, to know of a life beyond this
world, not in another country, but in another kingdom.
Also, while Jesus and his ways have a
way of making us unsettled and uncomfortable – at times – they are also given
to us to help us to grow.
He is our sacrament, our treasure.
In this way, his sacrament is the key
to our journey, to make our own search engine work.
[__02__] Sometimes, though, being Jesus’ disciples or
trying to be, we might feel a bit unsure of what we are giving and what we are
going to get…
I am guilty of this … even now,
sometimes, reluctant to do my best or to be cheerful and patient..because I am
not sure what I am going to get out of it.
While I am willing to promote some positive changes, I want to know what
the payback will be… But, is this really the way to look at things?
[__03__] On the
day of my ordination as a priest, a day on which I should have been thinking
only about God and goodness…. Even on that day, I was measuring / evaluating my
schedule very carefully. It was on a
Saturday morning at the Cathedral in Newark, I recall that I was feeling both
enthusiastic and a bit self-conscious about the whole big solemnity and
celebratory atmosphere of the affair. I
arrived at the cathedral about 45 minutes before the Mass was to begin…and that
made me the absolute last one to arrive among my classmates. I seem to recall the
Archbishop’s assistant secretary giving me, as we say, a “look” … as to why I
was not 90 minutes as the other candidates for ordination were. Fortunately,
neither he nor the Archbishop are at the cathedral anymore!
Part of my “arrival time” had do with
my own understanding that I would be at the cathedral for several hours… and, I
told others about this., I had sent invitations to family and friends and was
pleased that many had responded enthusiastically that they would come to the
cathedral – I myself never had any interest in attending a priesthood
ordination prior to the seminary…and it took me one or two years in the
seminary before I was even very interested in the whole ritual. I also knew –
from experience – that the Mass of Priesthood ordination was 3 hours long.
In the invitation, I included a note
to tell everyone about these 180 minutes of Catholic worship. It did not deter
them, or maybe it did.
Here is the story. On the sidewalk outside the cathedral, I
bumped into some of my cousins and a family friend. One of my cousins said to
the friend – Ray, you know, I’m surprised you’re here … you know, this Mass is
3 hours long. The look on his face was
priceless and he was immediately calling out for his wife to ask why he was not
told this.
He
stayed for the whole Mass… we laughed about it later.
I was a bit self-conscious, but it
brought into focus that my ministry as a priest did not exist then – nor does
it exist know – in a time-space continuum in a galaxy far far away…but rather
exists with and for the people in the church, also the people on the sidewalk …
and even for those who do not come to church.
We exist as a parish family to
celebrate Corpus Christi, to put our trust in God, not only for those who are
here but also for those who are not here, or those who one day will be here.
[__04__] I
bring this up because the disciples in the Gospel reading may be feeling a bit
strange, weirdly self-conscious about what exactly they are being asked to do,
in order to prepare the Passover meal for Jesus.
This is Corpus Christi Sunday and a
moment for us to recall explicitly Jesu’s gift to us of his Body and Blood, and
also of how this reveals not only his love for us, but also invites us to love
him in return to love those whom he loves, and to know better and more
completely the dignity and value of even the person who seems insignificant or
the person who makes us uncomfortable or anxious, the person who make us wonder
– what am I going to get out of this? What’s in it for me?
Why me?
The question in such a case is not
..”why me”… but “why not me?”
[__05__]
I’d like to conclude with this example of priestly sacrifice and what
“foolishness” transformed to wisdom:
Vietnam priest/bishop
I read this on CATHOLIC.ORG.
I think this was written several years BEFORE the
coronavirus and COVID-19 and “sheltering in place”
What
would happen if you were in a prolonged situation where you did not have the
regular availability of a priest? What would happen if even Sunday Mass was no
longer accessible?
Many
of our brothers and sisters throughout the world experience these kinds of terrible
situations. One example can be found in the life and Catholic priesthood
of Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan.
Francis
was a Catholic priest from Vietnam. He was ordained a priest, became a bishop/AB
in 1975, and later a cardinal. Only a few months after his appointment as
bishop, he was arrested and imprisoned by the Vietnamese government / police for
13 years. 9 of those 13 years were spent in solitary confinement!
In
year 2000, JP2 invited him give “meditations” at a Lenten retreat in Rome / Vatican. Father Nguyen (now Cardinal
Nguyen) gave what he called his "Testimony of Hope".
In
one meditations, Cardinal Francis Xavier Nguyen Van Thuan, movingly describes
what it was like – in prison - not to have the Eucharist readily available and
what he had to do to celebrate Mass and how this happened without others
physical present.
"When
I was arrested by the police, I had to leave immediately with empty hands. The
next day, I was permitted to write to my people (parishioners) in order to ask
for the most necessary things: clothes, toothpaste. I wrote – in a
kind of secret code of my religious wish -- , 'Please
send me a little wine as medicine for my stomachache.'
The faithful [people] understood
right away.
They
sent me a small bottle of wine with a label that read, 'medicine for
stomachaches.' But it was not for stomachaches but for Mass. They also sent
some Communion hosts, which they hid in a flashlight for protection against the
humidity. The police asked me, 'You have stomachaches? Yes. Here's some medicine
for you.'
I
will never be able to express my great joy! Every day, with three drops of wine
and a drop of water in the palm of my hand, I would celebrate Mass. This was my
altar, and this was my cathedral! It was true medicine for soul and body, 'Medicine
of immortality, remedy so as not to die but to have life always in Jesus', as
St. Ignatius of Antioch says.
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