Corpus Christi Sunday is celebrated in the Catholic Church today--the body and blood of Christ.
I feel truly blessed by the faith community I celebrate Mass with each Sunday. We are more than a physical structure....more than a scheduled time each week.....more than rote recitation of words....more than obedient people...more than repeated rituals shared each week....
We are faith-filled. We do celebrate. We do celebrate. We do celebrate Mass. We do gather each Sunday. We do have a physical structure where we meet each week. We do recite words we have heard many times. We strive to obey--our prayerful, communal conscience, if not always that which other deem worthy of obedience.
I confess. I am drawn most to the Word when I enter the experience of Mass. Throughout all aspects of my life, since I was a child, I felt most drawn to words. Today's celebration of Corpus Christi drew me beyond the words into the experience of the celebration. Words were the invitation to which I responded today.
"Lent is a time when we empty our guilt, so as to enter into the fullness of the celebration of Easter." Those were the homilist's words that spoke to my ears. Quickly, I grabbed my pen to capture that essence. All too familiar with the tipping of my mental wheelbarrow of short-term memory, my pen was the savior I sought. My pen is the tool I grasp hold of to nail moments of grace to my long-term memory.
Yet, in that moment, I was struck by the sin of squashing grace, or being so arrogant as to think I could preserve that moment for posterity. Putting my pen away, trusting that what I need to remember I will remember, freed me to be graced by so much more.
The four music ministers led us in singing liturgical music of celebration. Guitar. Piano. Drums. Four-part harmony. Many times, I have seen the faces, heard the words, and the music. Yet, this morning, I was graced with mystery. Hearing--truly hearing--the four different parts--soprano, alto, tenor, and bass--of the musicians led me to mystery of wonderment.
How is it that four individuals open their mouths and produce four different notes that produce such harmony? Science may explain it, yet, it does not explain the wonder of the moment--the mystery of the experience.
Spontaneous signing of Mass music by a woman, who lives with Asperger's Syndrome, was shown to my eyes. No hearing impairment. No rote recitation of words. A simple expression of the words coming to her ears. A personal response in tune with the singing voices of others.
I have served as a minister of Word--as a lector. I have served as a music minister, though both were many years ago. I have never served as a Eucharistic minister.
This morning, the choreography of the Eucharist--the celebration of our human tapestry of gifts--was given to me. I emptied myself of the words, and my eyes were opened to the diverse gifts of our faith community. Our individual gifts stream to the front of the sanctuary to the hands of our priest, and his ministers of bread and wine.
Corpus Christi. Mystery. Faith. Body. Blood. Grace. Word. Music. Corpus Christi.
