Respect for the Eucharistic presence
Monday, May 23, 2016
Brother Richard DeMaria
Years ago I saw a production of Tosca, in which the sacristan in the first act made “genuflections” before the tabernacle that were little more than nods. Recently, I recognized that sacristan in my own actions in the chapel. Is it because I don’t believe in the real presence that I act this way? I asked myself.
My answer to this question was in the negative: a) I believe whole-heartedly in the real presence; and b) it’s His fault: by choosing to be present in the lowly form of bread, Jesus made himself vulnerable to the kind of careless familiarity I was showing.
More and more I am convinced that Jesus’ crucifixion and his presence in the humble forms of bread and wine are saying to us that the God of Christianity is a God who makes himself vulnerable to those whom he loves.
Love always involves making oneself vulnerable to the one loved. Every parent allows himself to be manipulated by her child. Every time that I enter into a friendship, I give that person a power over me. To make oneself vulnerable to another person is to imitate our God, whose power is shown by giving freedom to all of his creation, including us.
We all, many times a day, take advantage of the love of our God for us and act in a way that disrespects God, His people, or His creation. Disrespecting the Eucharist is just one more instance of this. These acts of disrespect happen only because, being a God who loves, Jesus preferred to make himself always available to us, knowing that we would abuse that gift of love.
So I say to myself and to Him: It’s your fault. Paraphrasing Adam’s blaming of Eve: “The gift which YOU gave me, made me do it.”
Not only can we Catholics be accused of being too casual with regard to the real presence in the reserved sacrament; the usual criticism made of the Catholic Church is that it invests too much money in the building of its churches and in celebrating the Eucharist. Judas was only the first of many who ask whether the beautiful church buildings, vestments and vessels might better be sold and the money used for the poor.
St. Teresa of Avila, despite her commitment to return convents to be places of real poverty, always insisted that the chapels be beautifully decorated. Surveys have repeatedly shown that poor people see the Church as the one beautiful place where they are welcomed and they argue that to strip the churches of their beauty would be to rob the poor of their one place of beauty.
It reminds me of Jesus’ complaint that he could not please his detractors: They rejected John the Baptist for his asceticism and then rejected Jesus who came and enjoyed the things of life.
Catholicism is always a matter of taking two seemingly contradictory values and maintaining both.
