BREAD FOR THE LIFE OF THE WORLD: A REFLECTION ON CHRIST’S BODY IN FAITH AND WITNESS, PART II

The Last Supper, by Fritz Eichenberg. Public Domain

This brings me to say a few words about the Church itself as the Body of Christ. St. Paul’s first letter to the church at Corinth sets out an evocative image of the church as the Body of Christ. 

It’s a somewhat lengthy passage, but I think it’s important to hear it all: 

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot would say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear would say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would the hearing be? If the whole body were hearing, where would the sense of smell be? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many members, yet one body. The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.” On the contrary, the members of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and those members of the body that we think less honorable we clothe with greater honor, and our less respectable members are treated with greater respect; whereas our more respectable members do not need this. But God has so arranged the body, giving the greater honor to the inferior member, that there may be no dissension within the body, but the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it. And God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers; then deeds of power, then gifts of healing, forms of assistance, forms of leadership, various kinds of tongues. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret? But strive for the greater gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way. (1 Corinthians 12:12-31) 

I won’t go over everything in this passage, but there are a few things to note: 

• St. Paul says it is the Spirit given in baptism that unites us into one body.

• We are many members, and no member may so to another, I have no need of you. 

• If any in the body suffer, all suffer. 

• God has appointed each of us to a role and given gifts in accordance with our calling. 

I wonder how we are doing as a church at living out the vision that St. Paul sets out? Surely this will vary by place and people. I worry that we may sometimes find other members of the church to be something other than indispensable. I worry that we spend a lot of time and money helping people who may be called to ordained ministry to discern their gifts, but I wonder what we do for the vast majority of members who have other callings? I worry that we may miss out on noticing some of our members who are suffering. 

And there is more. When we are traipsing about in Corpus Christi processions, we become literally visible to the world. Does the diversity of our church match the diversity of our neighbors? Are we racially diverse? Are we diverse in age? Are we diverse in sexual orientation and gender identity? Are we diverse in political or ideological outlook? Are we diverse in all the ways that God has made us in beautiful variety? In other words, the body of Christ must include elbows and legs and ears and eyes and feet and so on to be whole. Are we missing some members? 

I also wonder on this feast day, that in some places has been an occasion for grand outdoor processions, if we’re as visible as we might need to be in the world throughout the rest of the year. Of course, I can think of plenty of examples of the church showing up to build homes or to stand in solidarity with the oppressed or to protest injustice or to share the love of Christ in other ways. Still, I fear those occasions are outside the normal rhythm of many of our congregation. 

Jesus Christ has commissioned us to go. He has promised us that the Spirit will guide us. He has provided the inclusive sacrament in baptism, by which all may be adopted into his body, the church. He has provided a wonderful sacrament in the Eucharist by which we are nourished with his presence. He has promised to abide with us until the end of the age. 

The church, empowered by the Spirit, is meant to be rich in diversity and fully living out our several vocations. We are called, like Jesus himself, to be always on the move, always speaking the truth, always offering God’s love, and always bearing grace, mercy, justice, and hope into the world. 

While writing this, I remembered an incident that I believe captures the vision of the church that is renewed by the Spirit and nourished by the Eucharist for ministry. Some years ago, I attended an Anglo-Catholic church that was serious about connecting the public work of liturgy with the public work of the church’s ministry. It was a place where I learned to see Christ in Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament and to see Christ in those we fed at the soup kitchen. It all goes together, you see. One evening we were gathered for some feast day or other. It was a weekday solemn mass with all the trimmings: sumptuous vestments, glorious music, provocative preaching, and, of course, great clouds of incense. I was sitting in the nave for that service, grateful that the liturgical rota permitted me to just come to church. 

At some point, a few of us noticed some smoke coming into the nave from one of the transepts. At first, it was hardly remarkable. These people took their incense seriously. But then I saw that the thurifer was in the chancel and the smoke from the transept was increasing. About that time, we all heard the sound of fire engines approaching. While the mass continued without missing a beat, firefighters entered the nave, walked over to the transept, disappeared for a few moments, and eventually left. The mass never paused. 

We later learned that someone — perhaps a person who lived on the street — had gone down to the basement to use a restroom. While there, one of the trashcans was lit on fire. It was a small blaze that did no damage, and the smoke we saw was about all of the fire’s work. 

Some churches would have reacted in fear after an incident like this. “Let’s lock the doors! Let’s make sure only our members have access to the bathrooms! Let’s find a polite way to keep homeless people out, especially during services!” But I heard none of these things. Instead, it was decided to be more vigilant about keeping the trashcans emptied. 

It’s a bit of a silly story, but I actually think it all highlights the sensibility which comes from a Eucharistic life. The mass never stopped, because no people seemed to be in danger, and offering our sacrifice of praise is the most important thing we do. The church never stopped welcoming people of all sorts and conditions, because Matthew 25 reminds us that we meet Christ precisely in the most vulnerable and excluded people. Jesus Christ came first, both on the altar and in the church’s ministry. 

That’s it. Jesus Christ comes first. He said, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh” (John 6:51). 

The Eucharist is the bread of heaven that feeds us — nourishing us to be people who can accept Christ’s gift of everlasting life. How wonderful we celebrate this gift on the feast of Corpus Christi. But on this feast of the Body of Christ, we remember also the way Christ has ascended into heaven to intercede for us. We remember that the body of Christ bore the scars of human, sinful failing but those same scars were redeemed to be signs of God’s grace and mercy. We remember that we are never abandoned by God. And on this feast day, we also remember that the church, springing forth from the waters of the baptismal font and the power of the Spirit, is also the body of Christ. 

The gift of Christ’s eternal life is too good to keep to ourselves. Let us offer the Eucharistic sacrifice not only for our good but for the good of the world. And having been nourished by Christ’s presence in the sacrament, let us be quick to seek him in our streets and in our neighbors. May we be visible in the world as bearers of Christ’s grace, mercy, justice, and hope. May we see that God is on the move, and as God’s people, we must be on the move, too.