Jesus said to his disciples: “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste, with what can it be seasoned? It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. You are the light of the world. A city set on a mountain cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and then put it under a bushel basket; it is set on a lampstand, where it gives light to all in the house. Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.”
The Gospel of the Lord.
***
***
There was a unique, almost strange, practice in some of the early Christian churches.
If someone was expelled from the faith community because of a moral issue, or if the person left the faith willingly, before being accepted back, that person would have to lay on the floor at the church’s entrance and say to the other members who entered:
“Trample upon me who was the salt which lost its flavor.”
Such a humbling practice – being trampled upon – was derived from Jesus words in today’s Gospel.
“You are the salt of the earth, but if salt loses its taste, it is no longer good for anything, but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.”
Perhaps these Christians took the Gospel too literally, though it certainly made a point! Salt is only good if it retains its flavor. Similarly, Christians can only build up the kingdom of God if they retain the “saltiness” of their faith.
***
Just as salt flavors everything it touches, in what ways does my faith “flavor” those around me?
***
“Trample upon me who was the salt who lost its flavor.”
May those words never be said of us.
Rather, be a “salty” Christian, the light of the world.
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain, and after he had sat down, his disciples came to him. He began to teach them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. Blessed are the clean of heart, for they will see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven. Thus they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
The Gospel of the Lord.
***
***
A friend texted me recently:
“Father, please keep my friend, ‘Jane,’ and her husband in your prayers. They had a house fire yesterday and are now homeless. They are very faithful people. After losing everything she owned, ‘Jane’ texted me the lyrics to the song, ‘Goodness of God.’ You should listen to it.”
“I love you, Lord,” the lyrics go, “for your mercy never fails me. All my days, I’ve been held in your hands. From the moment that I wake up until I lay my head, I will sing of the goodness of God… You have led me through the fire. In the darkest night, You are close like no other.”
“Oh, I will sing of the goodness of God.”
***
How can someone lose everything in a house fire and still sing of the “goodness of God”?
***
“Jane” is the type of person who’s blessed in today’s Gospel.
This word, blessed – in Greek, markarios – describes a joy that is self-contained; untouchable. It is completely independent of the joys and sorrows of life. It can neither be taken away nor destroyed.
It’s the type of stillness, inner peace, which Jesus promises to his followers. “No one will take your joy from you,” he says in John’s Gospel.
A change in weather, a change in fortune, a collapse in health, or a fire that consumes your home can steal the “happiness” the world offers. But nothing can take Christian joy away because it’s rooted in Christ.
***
Imagine that type of joy.
Regardless of what each day brings, there’s a stillness within; a feeling that all will be well; a comfort knowing Christ is with you and will never let you be tried beyond your strength.
We invite the Holy Spirit into our hearts now, asking for that type of joy – a joy, a peace – which Christ alone can give and no one can take away.
Jesus said to the Jewish crowds: “I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven. Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever.”
The Gospel of the Lord.
***
***
What makes a Catholic church unique – distinct from other churches?
Perhaps the lingering smell of incense when you walk in; the sound of water trickling down the baptismal font; a large crucifix hanging over the altar; or the Stations of the Cross delicately lit along the wall.
Then, of course, there’s the tabernacle. Ours is red kissed in gold, located smack dab in the center of the sanctuary. Anyone who isn’t Catholic may wonder what’s inside. If we were to explain, then we’d tell them not “what” but “who” is inside.
Jesus.
More than any other teaching, our belief that the Eucharist is not a mere piece of bread, but in fact the Body of our Risen Lord is what makes Catholics unique. This teaching has not only boggled the brightest minds in the Church, but also stumped ordinary believers like us.
“How can that be Jesus?” many ask. We ask. I ask.
***
Theologians have written volumes over the centuries to answer this question. But instead of appealing to the logic of the mind, consider the logic of the heart.
Literally.
As early as the second century, Christians understood the Eucharist by comparing Christ to a pelican.
In a time of famine, if a mother pelican cannot find food for her young, then she’ll literally use her beak to break open her chest, feeding her young with herself. It’s instinctive, written into her DNA; the mother freely offers herself in order to save her young.
I’m sure any mother can relate. You do what the pelican does – not in the sense of literally breaking yourself open, but you offer your life, your heart, even your body while pregnant for the sake of your children.
Mary did the same. She offered her body – and the next thirty years of her life – to God, so that God could become flesh.
***
In today’s Gospel, Jesus promises to do the same – to break himself open and feed his disciples.
“I am the bread of life,” he says. “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him… Whoever eats this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”
This is how we enter into full communion with God – a communion once lost in the Garden of Eden – by receiving Jesus in the Eucharist.
***
This unimaginable gift comes with an invitation. And, you might say, quite a responsibility.
Whenever those sacred words are spoken, This is my Body … This is my Blood … everyone is invited to offer themselves in union with Christ.
Just as Jesus offers himself for us, so we are called to offer ourselves for others.
As Saint Teresa of Avila once wrote, “Christ has no body but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes with which He looks. Yours are the feet with which He walks. Yours are the hands with which He blesses. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.”
How do I use my eyes, my hands, and my feet to be Christ for others?
***
Think of all the tiny sacrifices we make throughout the day.
I think of pregnant mothers, who like a pelican, share their bodies with their unborn children; parents who sacrifice sleep and sanity to raise a family; those who care for an elderly parent or an aging spouse.
Those who run our parish soup kitchen; those who stand at the door and greet; our staff; our catechists; members of our choir; those who bring communion to the sick; or participate in other parish ministries.
In offering your time and talent, you are being Christ for others.
This is my body… this is my blood.
***
So, what makes a Catholic church unique? The smell of incense, the sound of trickling water, or the delicately lit Stations of the Cross? Perhaps.
But, above all, it’s the tabernacle. It’s the Blessed Mother. It’s you. It’s me.
Every time we approach this altar and receive Jesus, we become what we consume – a living tabernacle; the hands, the feet, the face of Christ on earth.
