Dig Deeper into Sunday’s Gospel: Read John 6:51–58
A photograph hangs on my office wall. It is a snapshot I was grateful to capture just steps away from my front door: a nest of three baby birds, featherless and fragile, with eyes looking toward heaven and beaks wide open.
They were dying to be fed.
When I reflect on our Sunday gospel and hear Jesus say, “This is the bread which came down from heaven” (John 6:58), I think about the birds. I think about their utter helplessness and weakness, their vulnerability and insignificance. I think of how their lives depend on being fed from above; they cannot feed themselves.
“Open your mouth, and eat what I give you” (Ezekiel 2:8) plays in my mind as I smile in recognition: we are the birds.
Over the past few weeks, we’ve read about Jesus feeding the five thousand and raining down bread from heaven. These passages are pivotal for Catholics and central to our belief and understanding of the Eucharist: the source and summit of our faith.[1] Now, we hear that when we eat His flesh and drink His blood, we will have eternal life (John 6:54).
He dies to feed us forever.
It’s quite a claim that, sadly, many Catholics no longer believe. I won’t depress you with statistics; we all know them. Most Catholics do not believe in the Real Presence, transubstantiation, or life-giving power of the sacrament. They receive it (if they are still attending Mass) as a spiritualized symbol, a stale piece of bread, a tasteless cracker, no big deal. What Saint Ignatius once referred to as “the medicine of immortality,” we irreverently approach as if on a cafeteria line, sticking our hands out, mindlessly consuming, feeding ourselves.
How do I know? Not too long ago, that was me. While I never doubted the Real Presence of God (I have been given the gift of faith), I was oblivious to what I was receiving, wholly unaware of its healing power and mysterious exchange of life. As Peter Kwasniewski cites in his book, The Holy Bread of Eternal Life, “The proper effect of this sacrament is the conversion of man into Christ, that it might be said with the Apostle, 'I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me.'”[2] Somehow, I missed that memo.
The result? For years, worship was nothing more than a weekly habit and a routine box to check—a good thing I was doing for the Lord. Nothing reflected my ignorance more than my attitude and behavior as I approached the Blessed Sacrament. But then, something happened. Life got complicated. Deep suffering intersected my life, and I finally reached the bottom of my resources. As the strongholds I used to run to were no longer holding, my need for a Savior slapped me between the eyes. Like a helpless bird, I fell to the ground, looked up to the heavens, and opened my mouth. “Feed me with the food that is needful for me” (Proverbs 30:8) was the cry of my heart, and the Lord heard me and answered my prayer.
I don’t know if you struggle to believe in the Real Presence of God in the Eucharist or if you struggle with a loved one who has walked away from this heavenly banquet, but my guess is it’s one or the other. So what do we do? I have three suggestions that have worked for me and changed my life.
First, we need to learn our faith and study what we profess by participating in a Bible study that helps us encounter Jesus.
Second, we need to receive our God in a state of grace, which means frequent examinations of conscience and the sacrament of Penance.
Third, we need to behave as if the Eucharist is God. This means dressing as if we were entering heaven, surrounded by angels and saints, standing next to the Blessed Mother at the foot of the cross. This means receiving the Eucharist humbly, reverently, and prayerfully. This means dropping to our knees after the dismissal, remaining in silence, and offering prayers of gratitude for what we have received. This means visiting Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, getting to a daily Mass if possible, and speaking up and fighting against the grave evil and blasphemy of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass that we see happening far too often today. If we do this—if we treat the Eucharist less like a symbol and more like God, we will see a great renewal of the Church.
The birds by my front door are long gone, but I think about them every time I walk up to the altar and kneel to receive my God. Just like the birds, I wait with my mouth open, knowing that my life depends on the One who feeds me, the One who died so I could live forever.
Food for thought or journaling:
How do you approach the Eucharist? Do you treat it as a symbol or as God?
Sweetest Jesus, Body and Blood most holy, be the delight and pleasure of my soul, my strength and salvation in all temptations, my joy and peace in every trial, my light and guide in every word and deed, and my final protection in death. Amen. —St. Thomas Aquinas
P.S. Want to learn more about Jesus and the Eucharist? Check out Touching the Divine, a Bible study that focuses on the qualities of Jesus revealed through the Gospel of John.
[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2nd edition (Vatican: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2012), #1407.
[2] Peter Kwasniewski, The Holy Bread of Eternal Life (Sophia Institute Press, 2020), 63.
