The Transparent Body of Christ
Corpus Christi Scripture Readings
The universe was never intended to be opaque. As a matter of fact, as long as humans have walked this planet, each society, each culture, has acknowledged the transparency of creation to the Reality that lies behind reality. Their conceptions of it and their descriptions of it in human language have varied widely and often to extremes. Still, the fundamental acknowledgement of the Transcendent has always been a constitutive part of human existence…until relatively recently. The ascendancy of science and technology has proven to be a mixed blessing for humankind. On the one hand, they have provided us with an overwhelming amount of information about the universe—the microcosm as well as the macrocosm—and about ourselves as objects of investigation. In addition, they’ve enabled us to go way beyond our human limitations as sojourners in previously undreamed-of regions of space and time. They’ve given us a greater sense of control over the forces of nature so that we’re able to construct environments to our standards rather than to allow ourselves to be victimized by them.
On the other hand, it’s precisely because of science and technology that many of us, especially in the West, now live in an opaque universe. How did that happen? Science and technology have turned the universe opaque by permeating our approach to it with two fatal flaws in the system itself. The first fatal flaw resides in the definition of science and technology. That definition is based on an abstraction. Consider mathematics as an example of abstraction. Mathematics, by definition, deals exclusively with quantitative reality, that is, reality that can be measured and quantified. Mathematics seems to mirror reality because nearly everything we experience or observe can be quantified. However, reality as seen through the lens of mathematics is a poor substitute for all that is. Some things cannot be quantified, and perhaps these may be some of the most important things in our reality. Likewise, science restricts its subject matter to what can be observed—directly or indirectly—and what can be measured. Therefore, mathematics is the language of science. Yet, its very definition leaves science silent about the intangibles like goodness, truth, and beauty. Technology is simply science put to practical use.
The second fatal flaw in science and technology is that, since by definition, scientists have limited themselves to the observable and measurable aspects of reality, they often jump to the illogical conclusion that what is unscientific is unreal. It’s disingenuous to refuse to look at something and then claim it doesn’t exist. It’s clear that the spiritual universe, the universe of spiritual life, consciousness, and God is unscientific, but only because, by definition, science has excluded them—and rightly so—from its subject matter. Therefore, any attempt to understand spiritual realities using the language and methodology of science produces nonsense, like trying to weigh Mona Lisa’s smile or quantify Saint-Saens’ organ symphony. In fact, were we to try to produce art scientifically, we’d create a dull and uninspired facsimile. All art requires something intangible…something we call “soul.” Therefore, because science has excluded spirit from its investigation, it finds itself stammering when it seeks ultimate answers about the origins and ground of the universe as we experience it.
That’s why it’s impossible to approach the Body of Christ with a scientific mind. Instead, we’re invited to approach the mystery of the Body of Christ in the Church, in the liturgy, and in our Scriptures with the eyes and mind of faith, looking beyond the experiential and quantifiable to the ineffable Reality that lies behind them. The gospels are not scientifically historical, nor were they ever meant to be. They’re faith documents that invite the listener or reader to share the spiritual experiences of the authors. That’s why the story of the multiplication of the loaves that we shared in today’s gospel is the only sign that Jesus performed—outside of the Resurrection—that is repeated by all four of the evangelists. It’s a keystone of our Christian faith, not because it’s a miracle, but because of its meaning. When the Twelve saw that the people following Jesus were hungry, he said to them, “Give them some food yourselves.” It should be clear to us by now that Jesus is speaking to us, the Church. Now, what about this food?
Our scientific and technological society has made even food opaque. We have instant food, fast food, take-out food, and food delivery. We feed so that we can go on to the next “important” thing, whatever that may be. Food has been reduced to a kind of fuel for the physical machine, and we consume it as though we’re stopping at a refueling station. Who stops for an instant to think about how food is the stuff of life, and what we put into our bodies comes alive within us? Where has that transparency gone? How did we lose the reverence that once graced our dining? Did you know that nomadic Bedouins in the Middle East will go without eating for days if they have no one to share their meal with? They appreciate the transparency of food and that sharing food is sharing life, and that life is meant to be shared.
Now, look again at the gospel. Jesus is requiring of his disciples that they provide food—that is, life—to the hungry. But they—his disciples—are us. We are called to share life with others and, lest we fear that we’ll run short of life and the spiritual energy that feeds it, the gospel shows us that, not only do we have enough, but we have a superabundance…enough to fill twelve baskets. No one, not anyone of any color, ethnicity, nationality, creed, health, or economic level, could possibly exhaust our spiritual energy. Yet this is only true if we allow our life to become transparent to the Spirit. We can do what Jesus did. He took the bread. We take hold of our lives. He blessed the bread. We give thanks in recognition that our very lives are gifts and are to be spent in eucharist—in thanksgiving. He broke the bread. We give not only from our surplus, nor even from what we have, but from who we are. He gave it to them. We share the gift of life and love with others so that they may have life and have it to the full. We are the Body of Christ.
These same words—he took, he blessed, he broke, he gave—these same actions are what Saint Paul writes about in our second reading. When he took, blessed, broke, and gave the bread at the Last Supper, he destroyed its opaqueness and let the disciples see the Reality behind its reality, the life that death cannot quench. It was but a prelude to how he took, blessed, broke, and gave his life on the cross so that it, too, might become transparent and we might see in it the Resurrection.
We speak today about the Body and Blood of Christ on this solemnity of Corpus Christi. Yet, when the early Church fathers wrote about the Body of Christ alive in the world, they weren’t speaking of the Eucharist. They were referring to us as members of Christ’s Body, the Church. We share one bread, one cup. We share one life taken, blessed, broken, and given. If we want to find the Real Presence of Christ, look there. If it’s not there, then we won’t find it in the Eucharist because the Eucharist is the Church, and the Church is the Eucharist. It’s our communion, our union with one another, which is our union with Christ.
What, then, is our liturgy? Our liturgy is the Church opening windows of transparency so that we may see, hear, touch, taste, and experience the Reality behind reality. Liturgy, Eucharist, Church, the Body of Christ, this one reality breaks open our opaque world—the world of science and technology and the world of human accomplishments, it exposes the spiritual source and ground of our being, that which gives life and meaning to it all.
At the end of this liturgy, we will expose the bread of the Eucharist for contemplation and adoration. That is simply an invitation to look, not with the eyes of the body on a morsel of bread, but as through a window into your own deepest life, the life you share with every one of us, the life you share with Christ, the life God shares with you. Once again, oh, come, let us adore him.
Readings, Homily & Adoration Video
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