Homily

The feast of Corpus Christi is an expression of an ancient and rooted love for the Eucharist, for the body and blood of the Lord. The apostle Paul writes to the Corinthians: "For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said: ‘This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’" (1 Cor 11:23-25) The Lord himself encourages the disciples of every age to repeat that holy supper in his memory. And the apostle adds: "For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes." (11:26) It is not just another supper that we repeat, tiredly, as we often risk doing. The Eucharist that we celebrate is always the Passover that Jesus celebrated. This is the grace of the Eucharist: participating in the one unique Passover of the Lord.
The Church guards the concreteness of Jesus’ words and venerates his body and blood in the bread and wine, so that He can still be encountered today. We could add that Jesus is not present in the bread and wine in just any way; he is present there as a "broken" body and wine "poured out", that is, as the one who passes among men and women and does not save himself but gives his entire life, to the point of dying on the cross, until "blood and water" come out from his heart. He held back nothing of himself. He kept nothing for himself, to the very end. That broken body and that poured out wine are a scandal for each one of us and for the entire world, accustomed as we are to living for ourselves and holding back as much as possible of our lives. The bread and wine that are shown to us several times during the holy liturgy contrast with our love for ourselves, with the scrupulous attention we give to our bodies, and with the meticulous care we take to spare ourselves and avoid commitments and exertion. Nonetheless, they are given to us and continue to be broken and poured out so that we might be freed from our slaveries, so that our harshness may be transformed, our greed crumbled, and our self-love scratched. As the bread and wine draw us out of a world turned in on itself and condemned to loneliness, they gather us together and transform us into the one body of Christ. Recognizing the richness of the mystery in which we participate, the apostle Paul admonishes us to approach it with fear and trembling because: "Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable of the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup" (1 Cor 11:28). But after this examination, who among us could ever approach? We are well aware of how weak and sinful we are, as we sing in the psalm: "For I know my transgressions and my sin is ever before me" (Ps 51:3). But the liturgy comes to meet us and puts upon our lips the words of the centurion: "Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word, and I shall be healed." Only say the word. Yes, it is the Word of the Lord that invites us to approach; it is the word that makes us worthy, because it is a word that forgives and heals. We come to the table of the Lord after listening to the Word, after our hearts have been purified and warmed. There is continuity between the bread of the Word and the bread of the Eucharist. It is like a single table on which the nourishment is always the same: the Lord Jesus, who made himself food for all.