For nearly everyone in this country, today’s Feast must be kept as a fast: yet another, in the long series. No Mass; no Holy Communion; no Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament; no Eucharistic Hymns; no solemn Procession; no final Benediction; no public communal celebration of the heart of our Catholic Faith. Our community here remains so blessed, so privileged, so fortunate to be able to continue with daily Mass, and to able to celebrate today’s feast. We’re prompted in response to redouble our gratitude for this most holy Sacrament, and our devotion to it, and to pray all the more for those unable to participate with us directly.
The locked Church doors and the empty pews invite the question: how necessary is the Eucharist for living the Christian life? Can people who want the fullness of the Christian life live without it? The short answer to that has to be Yes. There are Saints now in Heaven who, through no fault of their own, never once received the Holy Eucharist, in the whole course of their life. Many other Saints now in heaven found themselves, during their life on earth, denied access to Mass and Communion, through no fault of their own. In God’s goodness and mercy, they were not deprived of grace thereby. Deus providet, we say, and also Ecclesia supplet: God provides, and the Church also supplies, or makes up for what is lacking. One might add that for most of Church history, people did not as a rule go to Holy Communion very frequently. And before the mid-13th century, nobody celebrated the Feast of Corpus Christi.
None of this should lead us to undervalue this most holy Sacrament, or today’s feast. On the contrary. But admitting all this helps us recognise, with ever sharper clarity, the essential nature of the Holy Eucharist as gift: sheer gift; simply gratuitous; supererogatory; utterly beyond what we could have expected, or deserved, or thought of: an un-looked for overflow, as it were, of divine generosity; a super-abundant communication of divine goodness; a gesture, a pledge, an ever-renewed manifestation, and confirmation, of divine love.
I suppose the Lord could have accomplished all his saving work, leaving out this Sacrament entirely. He could have become incarnate, been born, grown up, preached, performed his miracles, gathered his disciples, been crucified; then raised up on the third day, ascended into heaven, and sent the Holy Spirit. The Redemption would have been fully achieved; the work of our salvation perfectly accomplished. There would be nothing left for Jesus to do but intercede for us at his Father’s right hand. All this would have been generosity beyond measure, and fit cause for our endless thanksgiving and praise. But it was not enough for him. No: in addition, he left us this gift, and asked us to make use of it. The gift is so valuable, so rich, of such worth, that no words could ever express it all: what St. Paul calls an “inenarrabile donum” - an ineffable, unspeakable, unutterable gift (cf. 2 Cor 9:15). Jesus himself spoke of it as living bread come down from heaven: my flesh; my blood; given, for eternal life (Jn 6:51,56).
All the mysteries of the Lord’s life are summed up in the Holy Eucharist: his Incarnation, his saving death, his resurrection and the rest. Let me just dwell for a moment now in particular on the mystery of the Ascension. By this mystery, Jesus opens up for us the way to heaven. As our great High Priest in heaven, he enables our own offering to the Father of his one perfect sacrifice. In his mystical Body, ascended into heaven, he inaugurates our perfect union with God the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit. But in the Holy Eucharist we have a foretaste, or overflow, or anticipation, of all that. Heaven here comes down to earth, to be with us, here, where we are; or Jesus in heaven lifts us up to be with himself, even while we’re dwelling for our allotted time in this valley of tears.
Once, on Mount Thabor, Jesus gave three chosen disciples a momentary glimpse of his divine glory. It was too much for them: they could not endure it (Mt 17:6). But we can endure the sight of the Holy Eucharist; even sinners can; even those who are far from perfect in faith and charity. But it is the same Jesus here, in the Blessed Sacrament, as stood there with Moses and Elijah in glory; the same Jesus we will see at last, face to face, in heaven. Having Jesus, we have everything. Not having Jesus, our lives are without meaning or purpose; we are left in our sins: without hope, without God.
People who really understand this are therefore rightly distressed to be cut off, even for a short time, from the sacramental life of the Church, from the possibility even of paying a visit to the Blessed Sacrament in order to pray in its presence. Watching services remotely on a screen is not the same.
Nowadays there’s a strong resurgence within the Church of specifically Eucharistic devotion. This movement seems to me to bear the hall marks of the Holy Spirit. People know that our world is all astray; things in our society are not as they should be; even within the Church there is confusion and division; so people instinctively turn to Jesus. They come before him in the Blessed Sacrament in love, in adoration, in gratitude, in silence, in prayer.
We say that the Holy Eucharist is a sacrament, or “the” sacrament, of love. Through it we encounter the love of Jesus: the very love by which he died for us on the Cross; the love of the Holy Spirit; the love that reigns in heaven. Through this encounter our own love is strengthened, or revived. But the Blessed Sacrament can also be a privileged means for own love to express itself. By our silent kneeling; by our fixed attention; by our willing dedication of time, we express our love for Jesus. In so far as we use words at all, we cry out “I love you Jesus my love above all things!” We speak to him, whether with or without words, invoking his holy Name: “Jesus, Son of God, Jesus, Saviour of the world, have mercy”. In our adoration all becomes still, and we rest: in laudem gloriae - to the praise of his glory - and in doing that we are touched by the blessing of heaven.