My friends, over 25 years ago, I completed my Masters’ Degree in Pastoral Ministries at St. Mary’s University here in Winona, and I was privileged to be chosen by my class to give the reflection at our closing liturgy.  We couldn’t in those days call it “a homily” even though it was.  I reflected on the same readings that we are using today as it was at the same time in the Church Year.  Not knowing what the readings were ahead of being chosen, I marveled at how the Spirit had chosen the perfect readings and saw to it that a woman would reflect on them.

   First, we are given the wonderful reading from Isaiah today wherein he was really standing out as the prophet that he was, uplifting the feminine face of God.  The Israelites are back from exile and Isaiah wants them to know how much their God loves them, has always loved them.  What better, more endearing, and nurturing image than of a mother nursing-feeding her young—this is true intimacy, and the tenderness of the image is one that we must not miss as we strive to understand our loving God better.  

    Exegetes tell us that the word given by God in Hebrew for “comfort and compassion” is “womb.”  In other words, our God loves us as a mother loves the product of her womb.  Isaiah unfolded this image in a patriarchal culture that was about power and control, much as today.

   This image too is one to reflect on in present day when the Supreme Court has effectively taken from many women, the right to choose what is best for their bodies.  I think it is very sad that those most happy with the overturning of Roe v. Wade never mention the life of the woman making that terribly hard choice.

   So, turning back to today’s readings, I have found that in all my years as a Catholic, I have never heard any priest lift up this feminine image of God from Isaiah which would have been used at least every three years in the Cycle of Readings since the Second Vatican Council.  Could we say that it wasn’t the focus of an entirely male clergy? Most likely! But, instead, I did find myself marveling that the Spirit in her wisdom chose a woman to proclaim a message about the feminine side of our Great God.

   The Gospel reading for that liturgy as for today from Luke, speaks of the harvest being rich, but the workers few. Back 25+ years ago, knowing me, you won’t be surprised to learn that I proclaimed to my colleagues and our families that there was an easy solution for the workers being few!  Just as the Scriptures proclaimed the Feminine Face of God and Jesus’ words called for more workers for the harvest, it was clear the intent of our Loving God—it was time for our Church to affirm women in priestly ministry just as our God has always affirmed women.  As it has been said, “No one is as blind as the one who refuses to see.”

   So, my friends, coming back to the present, our Church, country and world are still inflicted with a lack of compassion, mercy, and understanding for what individuals suffer at the hands of small-minded people.  One of you shared with me this week about being saddened with the lack of compassion from the hierarchy at the closing of St. John’s and St. Casimir’s churches here in Winona.  They seem to not understand that these “houses of prayer” are so much more than buildings of stone, and bottom lines:  the places where sacraments were bestowed, spiritual lives began and ended, prayers prayed, and praise in song lifted up. 

   Many in our country, even Pope Leo, who now leads our Catholic church worldwide, are reeling over the creation of what some have named, “One Big, Beautiful Bill,” while others, the ones “reeling” have named it, “One, Big, Bad Bill” as it cuts food subsidies, medical care, and much more for the neediest while giving huge tax breaks to the rich. 

   I was pleased to hear that 20 U.S. bishops, unfortunately not our own, Bishop Barron, joined an interfaith group, and this included religious sisters’ groups, asking our Congress to carefully consider taking needed “helps” from the poorest in our country to give to the already, rich.  Pope Leo recently said, “It is the responsibility of politicians to promote and protect the common good, including by working to overcome great wealth inequality.” 

   Additionally, I believe we all as persons of faith need to pray most purposefully for our members of Congress, in both houses, to once again act from their hearts, with compassion on the values that many may have held at one time, and have now allowed “politics” to strip away.  “No one is as blind as the one who refuses to see.  Having just celebrated our nation’s birthday; this challenge seems most appropriate. 

    And for each of us my friends, I urge that we do not lose hope – continue to relentlessly do all the good you can think to do, write, call, demonstrate, and pray.  Our country, our Church, our world, never, it seems to me, in our lifetimes, needed faith-filled, compassionate, justice-oriented, and hope-filled people than now. 

   Our Scriptures today show us the universal face of our loving God, the gently feminine, nurturing face – the Creator, as well as the strong, justice-filled God represented so well in the person of our brother Jesus, and completed by the wise and comforting presence of the Spirit.  Our God, as we discussed last week, has given us all that we need to be our best selves, for ourselves, but also, for our world.  Amen? Amen!

My friends, I had debated whether to do this “solemnity” of Sts. Peter and Paul, or return to Ordinary Time, and opted for the “solemnity.” Let me tell you why.  First off, “solemnity” means the state or quality of being serious and dignified.  So, with regard to Peter and Paul, that would mean that the Church hierarchy feels that when such a feast falls on Sunday, it supersedes the regular Sunday liturgy which today would be the 17th Sunday in Ordinary Time. 

   So, my consternation in opting for the solemnity of these really two, worthy men is that we don’t do the same for worthy women, other than our mother/sister, Mary of Nazareth.  Another worthy woman would be of course, St. Mary Magdala, whose feast day, July 24^th fell on a Sunday in 2022, and there was no solemnity for her like there is today for Peter and Paul.  In fact, in my liturgical calendar for 2022, her name wasn’t even mentioned!  I believe we can all guess why. 

   Mary Magdala, of which the second name is not the place that she is from, but actually is a word, meaning, “the Tower,” to describe her personality. In a revised biblical reading, it was discovered by a scriptural intern several years back, that this Mary proclaims the same words as does Peter in today’s gospel selection – “you are the Messiah, born of the Living God.”  I would guess this newer translation will never be universally accepted within the mainline Catholic church, but we will rectify all this on July 20^th when we celebrate Mary Magdala and all women at our Mass on the Farm.  I should add, the exception to the above rule of naming a Sunday, “a solemnity” where women are concerned, would happen when a female saint who was also the head of a religious order, such as St. Clare of Assisi, for the Poor Clares, or St. Mary MacKillop of the Cross (Australia), and then only for the specific groups, not universally. 

   So, for our purposes here today, we will give Peter and Paul their due. Besides, the Scripture readings for this feast give us some interesting questions to ponder.  Moving on then…

   Probably the main idea for all of us to consider today would be Jesus’ question to his disciples in today’s gospel from Matthew: “Who do you say that I am?”  We see that the answers given by his closest followers indicate that they believe, or are trying to believe, and accept that he is someone more than, “a brother, a mentor, a friend.”  And, in this gospel, the words spoken by Peter, say what the rest, on some level believe, but can’t yet, quite say!

   Once Peter says the words that he can’t yet fully understand, he seems to acquire a new strength, given by God through Jesus, to truly follow in his rabbi’s footsteps. 

   For us too my friends, searching our hearts first, and minds next, and putting what we find there, together, we have our “marching orders,” if we can say with Peter and others, in the memory of our brother Jesus, “You are the Messiah, and indeed the Christ – one big enough to be “God” for everyone. 

   And if indeed we can say the above words, then it signals what must come next.  If we believe that Jesus, born of God, came to be one-with-us, showing us how to live-love-and die, even rise, one day, to in fact become our best selves, following his example, then our mission is clear – to do the same, in his footsteps.   So, we are probably asking what that might look like in our daily lives?  A few present-day examples:

• We will do our best to love, to some degree, everyone who comes our way. Granted, this will be easier with some than others.
• If we personally have a “position” that grants us some power over others,” our responsibility whether in Church or State especially if we list “Christian” after our names, is to strive for honesty, respect, compassion, and justice in our dealings with others.
• More concretely, we may feel compelled, and hopefully, most of the time, to speak up for those who can’t speak for themselves – that is if we are serious about following in Jesus’ footsteps.
• Additionally, on a more personal level, we should strive to walk humbly upon our beautiful earth amid all others; human, animal, and plant life, protecting, not abusing life, and not seeing ourselves above other life, but on an equal footing.  We could collectively name more actions, but you get the picture…

   The remaining Scriptures for today clearly state what our human journey may be like if we truly choose to follow our brother Jesus.  We see Peter being imprisoned; yet an angel comes to his assistance – I believe we have all had such “angels” in our lives.       The second reading, a letter to Timothy, Paul’s disciple, shows us Paul near the end of his life; “I have fought the good fight…finished the race…kept the faith” – hopefully words we can say too at our journey’s end. 

   The psalmist today gives hope and comfort with the words, “Our God hears the cry of the poor – blessed be our God!”  Now, on the surface level, I may have painted a somewhat dismal picture, but going deeper, I think each of us has experienced times when “we did the right thing” even if hard, even if we had to stand alone, and found at the end, there was a certain, peace, perhaps even joy, in making, “good trouble” – times when we realized that we did our piece to make life better for others. 

   I love Jesus’ words in Matthew’s gospel today where he gives Peter and his followers all the power required to do the new and different things that each age in our Church needs to respond to present-day life.  “Whatever you declare bound…or loosed…is done.” I still have hope that the so-called “leaders” in our beloved Church will one day cease claiming, “this can’t be done,” – but simply do! Simply include all, simply respect, simply love and simply, be just – all in the memory of our brother, Jesus.  Amen? Amen! 

Last week I suggested that a better way to understand hard-to-understand concepts like “the Trinity” is through our hearts.  In understanding the theology of Corpus Christi, or the Body of Christ; again, it would be good to leave logical thinking and reasoning behind, entering this mystery too through our hearts.

   In the past, I have used a story about my dad to help us make sense of this mystery of physical presence and I’d like to repeat that today as a good model for us. My dad died in 1986, nearly 39 years ago, and for the last year and a half of his life, he lived at Lake Winona Manor in Room 105.  In those days, it was called the C &R Unit which stood for Convalescence and Rehabilitation.  It’s curious when I think about it now—he was not convalescing, nor was he being physically rehabilitated; he was dying the slow death of one with emphysema and congestive heart disease.

   Even though he couldn’t get physically better, the rehabilitation that I saw going on for him was in a spiritual way.  For the first time in his life, he was given the opportunity of time—time to reflect on what was really important in life and I believe he grew closer to God, to Jesus, his brother, during that time.  He also made it his mission to know who his “neighbors” were in the Unit and to be kind to them.

   For all intents and purposes, Room 105 became my dad’s home his last year and a half of life, and this was where I went to spend time with him, to reflect on all that life had been for us and our family.  After he died, in the first weeks of grieving his loss, I had the strange sense that if I wanted to see him, I could go to Room 105 and find him.  Intellectually I knew this was wrong, but on the heart level, it seemed right.

   In relationship to this feast, it strikes me that Jesus, in giving us the Eucharist, may have been on the same wavelength—using it as a way to remain close once he was no longer physically present.  The bread and wine don’t look like Jesus, but it is Jesus, in our need to have him close—still a part of our lives.  Just like room 105 had become the place where I could find my dad, the Eucharist is the place where we can find Jesus in a tangible way and be comforted and strengthened by that presence. 

   We might ask in this regard, does the Eucharist have a purpose other than comfort? I believe that Jesus always meant for the “Bread on our Tables” at Mass to be a starting place—to receive strength and then move into our world, picking up the pieces of life and carrying on with all that he taught us—to share all that he gave us with the world of people that we meet each and every day.

    As I was reading and praying over the Gospel, it came to me what a gift Jesus gave to the people gathered, starting from something so small, a few loaves and fishes. It struck me that if we each took seriously our mission, our call to be his followers, what great things we could do in this world, starting from our own small places, our “loaves and fishes.”

   Jesus no doubt intended that we would see and feel his presence within the community here gathered, because if we don’t, or can’t see and feel him here, then we can never truly know his presence in the bread and wine either.  In fact, Karl Rahner has said that “the presence of Christ in the community gathered precedes the possibility of the presence of Christ in the Eucharistic elements.”

   In addition, Edward Schillebeeckx stresses the importance of seeing Christ’s presence as ultimately not toward the bread and wine, but toward the community.  He goes on, “If participants want to understand the Eucharist as sacrament, they should understand themselves first as the Body of Christ.” In this sense, it has been said, “the Eucharist” is really not static, a noun, but an action word, a verb, and to not see it this way misses the main point of what the Eucharist is all about. 

   I always used to struggle with this homily each year for fear that the older theology of transubstantiation and of its tendency to plant us in front of the tabernacle, the altar, instead of the community. The old theology spoke of the “altar” as if what we do here each Sunday is a sacrifice—it is not, and thus, calling this piece of furniture, “a table,” instead of an altar, serves us much better, as here, at this table, we remember the life, death, and resurrection of our brother Jesus, and celebrate his presence within us as we become, now, his body in our world.

   Indeed, the Eucharist was always meant to be a starting, not an ending place.  This is why we say at the conclusion of our liturgies, “Let our service begin or continue!”  And just like with Room 105 and my dad’s physical presence, at some point, I needed to re-engage in life, to come to terms with my loss, to carry all that my dad meant to me into my life going forward—he would continue to live on now through me and my siblings’ lives—through our families—every time we remembered him and chose to live out what he taught us.  When I perform funeral liturgies, I always remind the grieving families that they honor their loved ones best when they carry on in their own lives what their loved ones taught them about right-living.  Our Redig family celebrated the life of one of our own in a special liturgy this past Thursday, that of our brother-in-law, Pat Gannon, remembering him and hoping to carry his goodness onward.   

   For Jesus’ followers, all of us, it is about fulfilling his mission.  Jesus has called all his followers to be his presence in their communities—for us specifically, to see his presence in the greater family of our world—to do all that we can to see that Jesus continues to have a body, eyes, ears, mind, and heart in our world.  And we will continue to need the comfort of the Eucharist, the strength of the bread and wine blessed, the unity of the community where Jesus truly becomes present by our collective words and gives us the strength then to take him into the wider community.

   In our first reading from Genesis, old is tied to new—Melchizedek, an ancient king and priest, in offering bread and wine prefigures Jesus’ offering of his body and blood, his life in its entirety to God so that we might know how to do the same.

   In the Gospel from Luke, Jesus takes the opportunity of a very large group of physically hungry people to teach his apostles and disciples a greater truth—that he will always be with us to care for all of our needs—to show us primarily that we are loved and that no matter what befalls us, our God will be near.  The feeding of the 5,000 exemplifies the prodigality of our God’s love for us—our God is wasteful with love.  We read, “They all ate until they were full; and when the leftovers were gathered, there were twelve baskets full.” Again, we marvel that he began with five loaves and two fish!  It may even be that as some scholars have suggested, “the miracle of plenty” came about as Jesus shared what he had, and others did the same, and then there was more than enough!

   Jesus is always teaching us a greater truth—I have come into this world to live your life, to share my life with you—the very life of God!  I have come to show that you can begin with seemingly little and do great and wonderful things for my people—for my body.  Our Minnesota community is grieving the loss of legislator, Melissa Hortman and her husband who were senselessly murdered this past week—two who seemingly gave in abundant ways for others.  Each of us makes up Christ’s body—we are his flesh and blood for our world. When we partake in the Eucharistic bread; we are transformed into Eucharistic bread for that same world, Diane Bergant, Scripture scholar says, and when we partake of the Eucharistic wine; we become the lifeblood of Jesus, following his example in service, in sacrifice, for our sisters and brothers.  We give Jesus the greatest honor and glory, along with the Creator and the Spirit, not in our worship of the bread and wine on the table as an end in itself, but in giving honor, respect, mercy, love, working for justice for the “body and blood of Jesus” in our world.  We honor and praise what the words of consecration do—making Jesus fully present in the form of bread and wine, signaling the next step for us—of taking his flesh and blood into our world through our bodies which become with our reception, Eucharistic bodies.  With that in mind, I no longer struggle with the meaning of this Sunday. 

   And of course, this becoming, “bread for our world,” doesn’t happen by magic—we must make a conscious effort to live our lives in such a way as to continue his life of love and service in our world.  We see the “wasteful” giving of love to the 5,000—we are expected too, not to just give when convenient or give what is left-over, but to give in abundance, “wastefully” –generously.  Our world today, as you know is calling each of us to be that generous and compassionate “body” that our world so needs.  

   It only makes sense rejoicing over the goodness of our God in Jesus if it compels us to give likewise.  We may not physically be able to meet every need—but we can be a listener, a supporter, a friend to all.  If we can’t help, perhaps we know of someone who can—maybe we can right a wrong by making others aware—writing a letter, standing up for the truth when we hear the lies that incriminate our sisters and brothers. 

   The feast of Corpus Christi holds great significance for each of us if we allow its deeper message to arise to the light of day. Each time we say the words here, celebrating that Jesus is fully present within our community; we recall the covenant that our prodigal God made with the People of God from all time—a covenant made perfect in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Christ—our brother and friend.  We, as his body and blood now, for our world, must move into that world and let our service begin or continue! The events of this past week caused many of us to fear that our world is changing into something we no longer recognize.  Times like this call us not to hide in fear, but to continue doing our best.  Amen? Amen!