HOMILY FOR THE FEAST OF THE BODY AND BLOOD OF JESUS 2020
Nine-year-old Aidan sat with his father Albert Sykes. He asked, dad, why do you take me to protests so much? His father laughed and answered, I think I take you for a bunch of reasons. One is that I want you to see what it looks like when people come together, but also that you understand it’s not just about people that are familiar to you. It’s about everybody. StoryCorps is a non-profit organization whose mission is to record and share the stories of Americans from all backgrounds and beliefs. In light of the recent protests against racism and calls for change, they wrote, “In times like these, StoryCorps can’t pretend to have the answers. But we can listen and we can share stories. So this week, they went to their archives to rebroadcast podcasts of Black Americans telling their story. Aidan and Albert Sykes’ story was one of them. Near the end of their conversation, Aidan asks, so Dad, what are your dreams for me? His father answered, there’s an old proverb that talks about when children are born, children come out with their fists closed because that’s where they keep all their gifts. And as you grow, your hands learn to unfold because you’re learning to release your gifts for the world. And so, for the rest of your life, I wanna see you live with your hands unfolded.
We though many are one body
That podcast was first broadcast 5 years ago. After listening I realized Aiden is now 14 and wondered if he and his dad still lived in Mississippi. Listening to the podcast, the story didn’t sound like ancient history. It was a timeless story of a father and son. It was fresh and new with a power to challenge and move me. And those five words: live with your hands unfolded.
We though many are one body
The Bible is filled with poems, letters, sermons, historical accounts and symbolic literature. And stories. Human stories from another time first told in an ancient language by people with a life unlike ours. Yet those stories are fresh, new and alive with a power to challenge and move us. The stories push those who hear them to live with your hands unfolded.
Because they are not just the human story; they are God’s story. The one who places the gift in our hands, calls us to live with hands unfolded.
It feels strange to celebrate the Feast of the Body and Blood of Jesus with a virtual congregation. To speak about the meaning of the Eucharist –the gift you receive in your unfolded hands each week–when you haven’t received the Eucharist in weeks that have now become months. That is a callenge. But the absence of receiving the Eucharist doesn’t mean Christ is absent from your story – our story. The mission we receive from the Eucharist at Mass hasn’t disappeared: to let his presence make us more present as his disciples in the world. So we listen to the stories, we unfold our hands, and hear again that call:
TO USE MY VOICE There are several passages in the Old Testament that indicate Moses had a speech impediment. That he stuttered. Yet that did not prevent God from calling him to lead the people; to use his voice to challenge, comfort and teach. The passage we heard in the first reading is a key moment in Moses’ story. The escape from Egypt and the journey forward was harrowing. Scholars think because the story was written hundreds of years after it happened, it does not capture the real anguish and struggle of the journey. Moses finds the ability to speak the word “remember.” He challenges, comforts and teaches the people that God is powerfully present right now. In scripture, to remember is not looking back in a nostalgic way at past events. It is believing the same grace, strength and presence of God in the past is present right now. Remember. Wherever you are right now, say the word “remember” aloud. No matter how our voice sounds, Moses’ dream is that we would use our imperfect voices to help others remember God is here now.
TO OPEN MY HEART Shortly before Passover, Jesus goes to the synagogue. After the passage about Moses and the manna in the desert, he gives a sermon. Today’s gospel is part of it. For the people who heard it, including his disciples, it was confusing and a little bizarre. Only after his Resurrection would the disciples understand Jesus, who had been with them in their struggles and joys, was still really present when they gathered for the meal, for the Eucharist. Gathering for the meal was more than a look back at the good old days. It was a recommitment to live the radical life of Jesus: with an open heart. It’s not always easy to open our heart, especially when life is confusing and bizarre. We need the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist; yet perhaps these months away from it are the gift. To find the presence of Jesus—in a different way – in the stories of people not just familiar to me, but everybody. To hear him in the inspiring stories of hope. To hear him in the disturbing stories of privilege and racism. To realize that when we gather for the Eucharist again, we will understand the mission in a new way: to open our hearts.
TO LIVE WITH MY HANDS UNFOLDED The author Henri Nouwen writes, prayer is a way of life which allows you to find a stillness in the midst of the world where you open your hands to God’s promises and find hope for yourself, your neighbor, and your world. It worried St. Paul that the Eucharist had become just another gathering for the Corinthians. He tells them, the Eucharist is more than a devotion; a “Jesus and me” experience.
To say “amen” as they received the presence of Jesus is to open their hands to the presence of Jesus. And to open their hands to make him more present in the lives of the suffering, the struggling and those who have been left behind or left out.
There are millions of human stories. What we have learned, painfully in these months, is that many of those stories aren’t heard. The stories of essential workers, the stories of black lives that matter. What we have learned is we can no longer hold tightly to the way things have been. We must open our hands to God’s promise. We can listen and share the stories. Then, when we return to the Eucharist, our “amen” may sound the same as before, but it’s challenge will be fresh and new. We might understand for the first time what it means to live with our hands unfolded.