“The bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.” (Jn 6:51)
A little before today’s gospel pericope, the people say to Jesus: “Sir, give us this bread always” (Jn 6:34). The Samaritan woman spoke similarly when she met Jesus by the well: “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water” (Jn 4:15). The desire is there and bursts forth, even unwilling and uncomprehending. If we know nothing else, we know, deep down, that we hunger for more than food and drink. An encounter with Christ awakens that deep yearning. In his presence, hunger and thirst need no longer be suppressed, denied, ignored, anesthetized or swallowed up in a glut of pleasures that do not satisfy. With Christ before us, our need comes to the fore, no longer as a curse – something that lurks in the shadows and threatens to consume us from within – but as an invitation to eat and drink from the one Source that will satisfy.
“He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted.” (Deut 8:3)
So many people today are hungering for the Lord’s Body, whether knowingly or unknowingly. People hunger for food, for freedom, for dignity, for truth, for meaning, for love. In answer to this devouring hunger, God places himself into our hands. This unfamiliar food, this difficult and scandalous gift, this hiddenness of God in the form of bread, is the tiny seed that sets off the transformation of the universe.
Teilhard de Chardin hungered for Eucharist in China’s Ordos desert, and offered his Mass on the World as a spiritual Communion:
“I, your priest, will make the whole earth my altar and on it will offer you all the labours and sufferings of the world. … I will place on my paten, o God, the harvest to be won by this renewal of labour. Into my chalice I shall pour all the sap which is to be pressed out this day from the earth’s fruits. … All the things in the world to which this day will bring increase; all those that will diminish; all those that will die: all of them, Lord, I try to gather into my arms, so as to hold them out to you in offering. … Over every living thing which is to spring up, to grow, to flower, to ripen during this day say again the words: This is my Body. And over every death-force which waits in readiness to corrode, to wither, to cut down, speak again your commanding words which express the supreme mystery of faith: This is my Blood." (Teilhard de Chardin, Mass on the World)
As we participate in this Sacrament, let us remember that we offer God the world, whole and entire, along with the gifts of bread and wine, “fruit of the earth and vine and work of human hands,” so that he may transform it by his Spirit. When we receive his Body, let us remember that by doing so we open a little door for God into the world. We contribute our “yes” to the receptivity of the universe. As we live our daily life in the Archdiocesan Year of the Eucharist, which begins today, let us remember to carry this gift with us wherever we go, into every situation and relationship. Let us take our part in the oh-so-gradual process of Christification of all that is, so that God may be All in All.