The Bread of Life

Nineteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Understanding the Word

By Br. John R. Barker, OFM

The song makes me quake inside even now. The first time I heard  it, I was at a large conference. Still young in faith, I sang the chorus  with my whole being as several thousand people processed toward  the altar, “And I will raise you up, and I will raise you up, and I will  raise you up on the last day.” My ribcage swelled with elation. My  mind floated into grandeur. My heart burned with the promise of  eternal life. There was nothing so rich as the Bread of Life, here,  present among us. 

Strengthened by that food, I have walked for the forty years that  have followed. 

The song goes on: “You who come to me shall not hunger; you  who believe in me shall not thirst.” The internal quavering starts  again: the vision so rich, the reality so imperfect. I want not to thirst.  I want not to be hungry. But I thirst. I hunger. That chasm between  what could be and what is, that ache, that yearning for something  more, trembles within me. 

I walk down the steps. My thumb and forefinger dip into the  ciborium, select a small round host and hold it up to the first young  man in line: “The Body of Christ.” People come forward in a stream.  Hands extend in front of me: rough hands, manicured hands. Some  tongues lengthen. Then more hands: flat hands, young hands,  shrunken hands, eager hands. 

“The Bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world,”  sings the congregation. Do we recognize the magnitude of what we  are doing here? No? A little bit? I shiver again as we sing, “Yes, Lord,  I believe, that you are the Christ . . .” And they keep coming. Palms  unfold, reaching for the Bread of Life, murmuring “Amen,” “Amen,”  “Amen,” to the grandeur in our midst.

Consider/Discuss 

  • God asks us to sing a song of surrender as we receive the Body of Christ.  We have nothing to give but ourselves as we open our hands. In the  strength of that food, how can we walk another forty years, even if it takes  us into the gates of heaven? 
  • Creation is radiant with the splendor of God. Sometimes we perceive  that glory. Other times, the world just looks drab. On this summer  day, with the Jesuit poet Gerard Manley Hopkins, where do we see the  grandeur of God “flaming out”? Is it only in church? Do we experience it  at other times as well? 

Living and Praying with the Word 

Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, your love burns within me. Your Body  and Blood sustain me. Your life invigorates me. And yet, never do I  get enough of you. On this side of heaven, I still shake with longing  for you to come, come heal the brokenness of this world and my life.  I cannot grasp you. But you seize me. You are with us in the breaking  of the bread. Amen.

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