A few years ago, I was reading with my students the story of the birth of Dionysus. Persephone, the legend goes, was impregnated by Zeus and asked to see him in his true form. But a finite creature cannot look upon and eternal being and live…so the mere sight of a Zeus caused Persephone to explode—then and there, on the spot. One of my students asked me why we didn’t explode when we received the Eucharist. I told him I didn’t know…but it couldn’t hurt to be prepared.
In a few minutes, in this very church, I am going to work the greatest miracle in the history of the world. I know how that sounds, so maybe a better way of saying it would be that I, in persona Christi, will work this miracle. Or that Christ will work this miracle through me. But whichever way you want to say it, an astonishing thing will take place here today. Just a few minutes from now, and a few feet from here, the Creator of the universe will appear to us, and we will be invited to approach the altar, and take him in our hands. If we dare. There are some who argue—and convincingly—that we shouldn’t dare to walk up and grab the Eucharist; as though it were a theater ticket or a drive-through order. There are others who argue, and convincingly, that the human hand makes a worthy throne for such a humble king. But either way, we should be prepared.
In 2018 (that’s 2 BC…before Caronavirus), I visited the tower of London with my family. We stood in line for an hour and a half to see the Crown Jewels. An hour and a half! First we were issued tickets, then we sat through a documentary video, then we were ushered through a winding series of velvet, roped corridors past silver and gold vessels, suits of armor, lavish and costly outfits of fur, satin, velvet, and woven gold…until at last, we were granted a brief glimpse of the crown through bullet-proof glass and over the shoulders of heavily armed guards. All that just to see the queen’s crown!
And there is something infinitely more precious here.
We should be prepared.
We should be trembling.
Mobs of Christians should be fighting for a glimpse of this miracle.
So. Where is everybody? Is this really the best we have to offer?
In 2020, our bishops decided to lock the doors of every church. They forbade us—well, they forbade you—from witnessing this miracle in person. Were we outraged? Were we scandalized? There were riots, I remember, but not over that. (Don’t get me wrong. I don’t blame the bishops. They too were acting on the very best medical advice.) But…how many letters did they receive, I wonder, begging them to have courage; to trust that we’d rather die than be deprived of this miracle. I don’t remember hearing about the outrage; but then, I was busy hiding in the cloister, sterilizing countertops and door knobs.
What would you give to have been there at Cana when Jesus worked his first miracle—to stand in the presence of the Queen of Heaven? What would you give to have been there on that first Holy Thursday night? Or to have stood at the foot of the cross. You can. You’ve been invited. You’re here.
Nations shall behold your vindication,
and all the kings your glory;
you shall be called by a new name
pronounced by the mouth of the LORD.
You shall be a glorious crown in the hand of the LORD,
a royal crown held by your God.
Be prepared.
In the name of the Father…
