Sunday: a Day of Communion with Christ and those who Suffer

Thoughts on parishes, especially those that are Camillian, by Fr. Rosario Messina

‘The Lord Jesus, having loved those who were his own, loved them to the end. In the night when he was betrayed, he took the bread, broke it, and said this is my body and he did the same with the wine’. Specifically on the day when his enemies had decided to arrest him and kill him, Christ instituted the greatest of the sacraments, conceived in his divine imagination to remain with us for always, with the men of all ages, whom he loves immensely. Indeed, he promised: I will give you my flesh as food and my blood to drink; I will be with you always, until the end of the world; I will not leave you orphans. As a mother nourishes her children with her milk, so Jesus nourishes us with his Body and his Blood, becoming our travelling companion; the mysterious pilgrim who accompanies us along the roads of life; the true friend who warms our hearts. However if we want, we can also meet him every Sunday, every day, and have supper with him, and he with us. However, this great mystery of the living presence of Jesus in the Eucharist must lead us to discover the other great mystery of the true and real presence of Jesus in people who suffer. Indeed, Jesus himself, who said ‘this is my body’, also said ‘whatsoever you did to the least of my brethren you did to me. I was poor, hungry, thirsty, a pilgrim, sick, and you welcomed me, cared for me, visited me, and loved me’. Thus, if the Sunday Eucharist does not manage to recreate in the hearts of individuals and the whole of the Christian community  a harmonious link between the Eucharist and Charity, between Worship and Service, and between Faith and Life, thereby achieving a single and undivided love for God and our brothers and sisters, everything will be reduced to false devotion and the pious illusion of being good Christians, whereas, in fact, we deceive ourselves.

Indeed, the Word of God states in a peremptory way: ‘he who says he loves God but does not love his neighbour is a liar!’ This is in ineluctable truth that is also confirmed by a harsh homily of St. John Chrysostom in which, with apostolic courage, he observed: ‘Do you want to honour the body of Christ? Do not allow it to be the subject of contempt in your members, that is to say in the poor, who are without clothes to cover themselves. Do not honour it here in church with fabrics of silk, while outside you neglect it because of cold and nakedness. The body of Christ on the altar does not need cloaks but pure souls, while that body of Christ outside needs a great deal of care. What advantage can Christ have if the table of sacrifice is full of golden vases while he is dying of hunger in the persons of the poor? First feed the hungry and only afterwards decorate the altar with what remains. Would you offer him a chalice of gold and not give him a glass of water?’ How much this link between the Eucharist and Charity was understood and experienced by the first Christian communities can be learnt from the ancient testimony of St. Justin the martyr that describes the celebration of Sunday: ‘On the day that is named after the sun we come together in the same place…bread, wine and water are obtained…those who have money and are so willing spontaneously give what they want to give and what is collected is handed over to the head of the community who distributes it to the orphans, to the widows, to those in need because of illness or something else, to those in prison and strangers. In a word he comes to the aid of whomsoever he finds in need’ (Apol. 1,67). Affective and effective charity, therefore, a love for Christ, who is the Head, which expands and extends to the body, which is the Church. ‘From the Sunday Mass’, wrote Pope St. John Paul II, ‘must start a wave of charity, destined to expand in the whole of the lives of the faithful’.