Feast of Corpus Christi

 

 

Today we stand at the very heart of our faith. Today we don't just remember—we adore. Today we don't just reflect—we receive. For today we celebrate the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ—Corpus Christi.This is the feast of the Eucharist, the feast of Divine Love made visible, tangible, and edible. It is the feast of Christ, who gives not just His teaching, not just His blessing, but His very self—broken and poured out for the life of the world.

In the first reading, Melchizedek, priest, and king, comes forward with a simple offering: bread and wine. It’s an ancient gesture, and yet deeply prophetic. Bread and wine—ordinary gifts of creation—would one day become the extraordinary sign of salvation.

Psalm 110 then declares, “You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek.” Though originally a royal psalm, this line becomes a glimpse into a deeper mystery: a priesthood not based on ancestry or sacrifice of animals, but one fulfilled in the person of Christ—who offers not another's blood, but His own.

In this priestly act, bread and wine are forever changed. And so are we.

St. Paul, writing to the Corinthians, gives us the earliest account of the Eucharist:

“On the night he was handed over, the Lord Jesus took bread… and said: This is my Body… This cup is the new covenant in my Blood.”

He ends by saying, “As often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.”

The Eucharist is not just a way to remember Jesus—it is the way He remains with us. Every time we celebrate the Mass, Calvary is made present. The same sacrifice. The same Christ. The same gift of love. He gives us the cross in the form of communion. 

In today’s Gospel, the people are hungry. The day is late. The disciples are ready to send the crowd away. But Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.”

They protest. “We have only five loaves and two fish.” Just like we initially would protest if Jesus ask us to feed the hungry. Then Jesus does something familiar: He takes the bread. He blesses it. He breaks it. 
He gives it. This is not just a miracle of multiplication. It is a foretaste of the Eucharist. Christ feeds the hungry with earthly bread—but points forward to the time when He will feed us with heavenly bread, His very flesh for the life of the world. 

Today, the Church sings the beautiful and ancient sequence Lauda Sion—a hymn written by St. Thomas Aquinas, filled with awe and depth:

“What He did at supper seated, / Christ ordained to be repeated, / His memorial ne’er to cease.”

“Sight has failed, nor thought conceives, / But a dauntless faith believes, / Resting on a power divine.”

The Eucharist surpasses our understanding. But it does not bypass our hearts. We may not grasp how it happens—but we believe Who it is. Christ hidden. Christ present. Christ near. 

Though today’s feast is about Christ’s presence, we must also acknowledge—humbly and quietly—the way He comes to us. The bread and wine do not become His Body and Blood by human strength, but through His action, in His Church, through the words He gave.

Every time the Eucharist is celebrated, Christ speaks again through His ordained minister—not for the priest’s sake, but for the Church’s nourishment. As Saint John Vianney said:

“The priesthood is the love of the heart of Jesus.”

But today, we place our eyes not on the hands, but on what those hands hold—not on the voice that speaks, but on the Word made flesh who comes to us again.

Conclusion: A God Who Stays

Dear friends, the Eucharist is everything. It is Christ’s Body, given for us. His Blood poured out for our salvation. His Presence, here and now. He is not a memory. He is not far away. He is here.

Come to the altar with hunger. Leave the altar with Christ alive in you. And let your life become what you receive: a living sacrifice of praise, a vessel of His love, a Eucharist for the world. Amen.

 


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