Why Blood? (Corpus Christi homily)

The second reading talks about good things to come…

A “greater and more perfect tabernacle…”

An “eternal inheritance.”

In other words, the Holy Mass and the Eucharist 

is both about what happened “behind” us, at Calvary, 

and also about what lies ahead: Heaven.

But the readings also feature a harsh detail:

A reference to blood. 

The blood of animals that are sacrificed, 

and then Jesus tells the apostles he will offer – 

for them and for many – his own Blood.

Why would we want to have an emphasis on blood?

And what can that possibly have to do with heaven?

The blood was there, from the beginning.

The Passover, the deliverance of God’s People from slavery in Egypt,

 involved the blood of the oppressors’ first-born and the blood of the lamb.

Every year the Passover was relived, and in between, 

there were sacrifices offered day by day in the temple in Jerusalem.

Why would God want that?

Here’s the point: the blood is there to confront us with the reality of sin.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking: sin? All I ever do is get a little impatient.

All I ever do is maybe eat too much or have too many beers.

All I ever do is be too lazy or say some bad words.

But what God is confronting us with is the ugly truth of sin; 

however modestly or ineptly it originates, it eventually ends in blood.

Here’s a surprise for you. Emotions and feelings, 

like impatience, even anger, are not themselves sin. 

I repeat: feelings are not sins!

No: the sin comes next; what do I do with that feeling?

If I am angry, I might strike out with violence or cruel words.

Or, I might take on penance for the cruelty that arouses that anger; 

I might convert that emotional energy into working harder for justice.

Or I might just pray!

But the world isn’t infected with too much fairness, too much mercy.

We do not say at Mass: “Behold, the Lamb of God 

who takes away the compassion of the world,” 

but rather, “the sins of the world.”

Why are there wars in our world? They don’t start with bombs; 

they start with greed, with contempt, with selfishness.

When there are shootings overnight, 

they are mostly about theft or revenge, often related to drugs.

And when people in the suburbs consume illegal drugs, 

you’re at the nice end of a transaction that includes someone’s blood.

Because we prefer to forget the violence inherent in all self-worship,

God puts blood at the center of the great drama of human salvation.

“This is the chalice of my Blood, shed for you.”

To be a Christian, a Catholic, is a lot like Alcoholics Anonymous.

You can’t be in AA without first admitting, “I am an alcoholic.”

And you can’t be a Christian without admitting, “I need salvation.”

Not, “it would be nice,” or, “it’s good for the kids,” but rather,

“Without the Blood of Jesus, shed for me, I have no hope!”

And that brings me back to where I started; 

which, paradoxically, is not at the beginning but at the end: heaven!

The Eucharist, the Mass, is about both these realities at the same time:

The desperate infection of humanity called sin that destroys us;

And the healing that is underway that is summed up in one word: heaven.

Heaven is healing. Creation healed, above all, humanity healed.

No alienation from God or each other.

Once a year we have this feast of the Body and Blood of Christ 

to remind ourselves that both the sickness and the medicine are real.

The Eucharist is not just a symbol, a customary ritual.

We Catholics take this so very seriously because Jesus did.

He did not say, “take and eat this bread…this wine” but My Body, My Blood.

We do not pass out the Eucharist casually to any and all, 

not because we do not wish everyone to have this Salvation, 

on the contrary, we do!

But the Eucharist is not magic; and not a “thing” at all, but a Person.

The Eucharist is a kind of mirror, and those who come to receive him 

must face, in that Mirror, both the reality of our own sins, our violence, 

and that only Jesus’ Body and Blood can heal us.

Without faith and without conversion, the Eucharist is no remedy for us; 

and to receive the Eucharist without the right preparation 

is itself a grave sin, and brings a terrible hardening of heart.

And regarding receiving his Body and Blood, we do not say, “never,” 

only, “perhaps not yet” – first be ready, by faith, by baptism, 

by conversion and confessing mortal sins – and then, please come!”

You and I are not without hope; but we are not yet cured.

In the Eucharist, we behold what we dread and receive our only healing.