Sermon Corpus Christi 2013

Genesis 14:18-20

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

Luke 9:11-17

Like so many things in life which are really great fun, the feast of Corpus Christi started with a nun having visions. (Think of The Sound of Music if you want another example.)

The nun in question was Juliana of Liège, a Canoness in Belgium in the 13th Century, who started seeing visions of the moon disfigured with a single dark spot. After puzzling over this for some years, Christ revealed to her that this represented the Church, luminous with many feast days but sadly disfigured by the lack of a solemnity in honour of the Holy Eucharist.

Juliana then started to campaign for such a feast, as you would, and after much opposition eventually enlisted the support of her bishop and her archdeacon, who providentially became Pope Urban IV. But the Pope was distracted by political intrigues and failed to give the matter his full attention until a Eucharistic Host at Orvieto, where he was staying, started bleeding during Mass. The Pope soon readjusted his priorities and quickly established a Feast of the Blessed Sacrament, on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, for the whole Church. 

The idea was to give thanks for the gift of the Eucharist in a more celebratory way than was possible on Maundy Thursday, the day of its institution, overshadowed as that day was by the suffering and sorrow of Good Friday. And soon the feast took the form that we recognise today, a festal celebration of Mass followed by devotions to the reserved Sacrament. In countries with more reliable weather, the Sacrament might be carried in an outdoor procession, with music and fireworks and rose petals billowing in the wind. And the celebrations conclude with benediction, which is a blessing given from the Real Presence of Christ himself in the consecrated Host.

Now we might think that’s all very well, but isn't it just a bit far from the last supper in the upper room, that straightforward meal with Jesus and his disciples together? Or the Apostles meeting for their simple gatherings to break bread together on the Lord’s Day, as we read in Acts? Isn’t it just all too complicated, too fussy? Aren’t we drifting away from the simple commandment of Christ to eat the Lord’s Supper in memory of him? 

But I wonder. What do children do, when someone who loves them enormously gives them a really great present? Do they scrupulously fold up and discard the shiny wrapping paper and ribbons? Do they carefully read the instructions to the letter in order to make sure they only do exactly what it says on the box, and nothing more? Do they then put the gift away in the cupboard, and get it out, say, just once a month, for fear that otherwise they might be making too much of it? Do they indeed. And if they did, wouldn’t the person who loved them enormously, and gave them such a wonderful gift, be rather disappointed?

The Eucharist is a gift from the loving and generous heart of God in Jesus. And God’s generosity is huge! We see that in today’s Gospel reading, the feeding of the five thousand, where from just five loaves and two fishes everyone had as much as they wanted - and there were twelve baskets of broken fragments left over. What use were those scraps? Was that just waste? Or was it rather a sign of God’s abundant generosity, giving more than anyone can possibly need or want?

We know, of course, that the Gospels were written originally not for private study but to be read aloud in the weekly assembly of the faithful for the Eucharist, in addition to the Hebrew scriptures which were carried on from the synagogue meeting. And that’s just how we read the gospel this morning. The Gospels contain many scenes whose layers of meaning emerge more fully as they are read at the gathering for the Eucharist.

The story of the feeding of the five thousand does just that. It is the story of a great crowd, of all sorts and conditions - just like the Church spread throughout the world. It tells of miraculous feeding, without limit. It tells of food which is inexhaustible because it is Jesus who provides it. It tells of the Apostles, the Twelve, literally “spreading the table before the people”, finding their mission by presiding in service, in giving to all, just as Jesus did. And even the word used in Greek for those baskets of scraps, klasmaton, is the same word used in the earliest Eucharistic liturgies we know, for the fragments of consecrated bread kept for the communion of the sick. 

The feeding of the five thousand is a Eucharistic meal in the broadest sense, a thanksgiving, a joyful celebration of God’s abundance which never runs out, in which all eat and have enough. It is a prophetic sign of the banquet in the Kingdom of God.

Jesus enacts that prophetic sign with the crowd in that desert place, to show them that he has come to open the way to God’s Kingdom of generosity, love and peace. And Jesus at the Last Supper instituted the Eucharist to be the sacramental sign and foretaste of the same banquet, in which in fact we already begin to partake of the joys of the Kingdom.

Today’s feast in honour of the Eucharist invites us to celebrate with unrestrained joy the unrestrained generosity and love of God. It invites us to go beyond the merely necessary, and to delight in the exuberant abundance which God delights to give to us. There is more than enough for everyone, but still there is no excess, for the enlarging of God’s generosity does not lead to greed or surfeiting but to the enlarging of our joy, and the increase of our thanksgiving.

There is so much we do in church that we don’t actually need to do. We don’t need beautiful buildings to celebrate the Eucharist, we don’t need candles, incense, vestments, music and all the other things with which we adorn our liturgy. But our delight and generosity reflect God’s delight and generosity. The special devotions of this day are part of that exuberant delight. They are not indeed essential to the Eucharist, but they are if you like the baskets that we weave for the fragments left over.

The joy and grace of the Eucharistic celebration is not meant to be contained within tight boundaries. It is meant to spill over, and does so in all the extra devotions with which God’s children like to adorn this wonderful gift.

It is meant to spill over, too, into the rest of our lives. The Eucharist is a sign and foretaste of the banquet of the Kingdom of God, in which all of human life is to find its fulfilment. It enlarges our joy, and it should also enlarge our charity, our generosity, and our justice. The Eucharist breaks open all boundaries so that those on the edge can be welcomed into the centre as the most honoured guests. The Eucharist refashions human society, transforming the world into God’s Kingdom just as it transforms bread and wine into the risen Lord.

This feast invites us to rediscover a more childlike joy in the greatness and goodness of God’s gifts. It invites us to trust and rejoice in the promises of God. It invites us to great joy and celebration. Because joy is infectious. Because if we celebrate others will want to join in. 

God has invited us into his Kingdom, and given us a foretaste in this holy meal. This is not just for when we are in church, but for the whole of life. It is not just for us, but for the whole of humanity, all sorts and conditions, the whole motley crew of them. And we, the disciples of Jesus, we are to spread the table for the feast. Welcome to the party.