A homily for The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ (Corpus Christi), June 7, 2026
Deuteronomy 8:2-3, 14b-16a, 1 Corinthians 10:16-17, John 6:51-58
We are tactile people. When we say, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” whatever “it” turns out to be, what we really mean is we’ll use all of our available senses to determine if something is real.
All five senses, if we’re so blessed, and a little bit of imagination, too.
That’s why, in the early days of Amazon.com and other online shops, many of us would visit traditional brick-and-mortar stores first to check out this item or that. To hold it, shake it, listen to it, smell it, maybe try it on for size. And then we’d whip out our smartphones or head home to our computers and order the item for delivery tomorrow for 30 percent less than the other guys were charging.
Because we saw it and felt it, we believed.
Which is why the Eucharist is such an extraordinary gift.
We can hold it, taste it, smell it, feel it in our hands and in our mouths. Through receiving the Eucharist, we can satisfy our tactile needs.
But this gift is far, far more.
This feast we celebrate today — Corpus Christi, The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ — gives us the opportunity to think about, think deeply about a gift from the Son of God that we may take for granted at times.
Every day, we can receive the Eucharist, the physical yet mystical presence of Christ’s body and blood, sacrificed at Golgotha for our sins and every sin ever committed or yet to be committed.
The gift of salvation. The conquering of eternal death. The opening of the gates of Heaven. All through Christ’s sacrifice and his preaching and teaching and healing.
As Catholics, we believe that the bread and wine, after consecration, are really and truly Jesus among us. We believe that this transubstantiation, this complicated theological and philosophical process that changes the fruit of the earth and fruit of the vines into the essence of Christ himself, is really real and permanent.
Even if we don’t completely understand it.
Even if we take it for granted.
And especially if we need to rely on our faith to embrace it. Because that’s how faith works.
For 2,000 years, whenever and wherever two or more people have gathered in the name of Jesus, he has been there. He always will be there. He promised. And we believe.
And just to calm our Didymus-style doubts, the divine man from Nazareth gave us something we can hold on to, something we can consume, individually but even better as a community.
We call it Communion. We walk reverently as a family to accept our share.
Now, under no circumstances can we overlook or downplay the spiritual nourishment we receive from this morsel of wheat.
Every time we receive Communion, every time we bring the body and blood, soul and divinity of Christ within our own bodies and souls, we are filled with God’s grace.
Today’s feast reminds us to sit up and notice. To sense how God’s grace changes us for the better, every minute of every day. To calculate what God wants us to do, because God is always calling us to action, even amid our deepest, quietest contemplation.
As children of God called to be members of Christ’s body here on Earth, we are challenged to be Christ to every other person.
Every.
Other.
Person.
Everywhere.
No Exceptions.
And when we pause to reflect, we figure out which of our God-given gifts and talents we can use in any given situation, to uplift our sisters and brothers. Again, that’s why we gather as God’s people on Corpus Christi Sunday.
Those of us who order merchandise online these days probably don’t feel the urge anymore to touch the goods first. As tactile as we can be, we’ve also come to believe that we’ll receive what we were promised. We have confidence.
How much more, then, do we have confidence that Jesus is with us as he promised? In the bread and wine, transubstantiated into the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ?
Unlimited confidence. Sure belief.
