Homily - 28 March 2024 - Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper

Homily for the Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper

Dear brothers and sisters,

J.R.R. Tolkien once said, “It is the heroism of obedience and love not of pride and willfulness that is the most heroic and most moving.”[1] As we celebrate this evening the institution of the Holy Eucharist, the Sacrament of Love, we encounter the most heroic act of obedience and love that could possibly be imagined.

We know “love cannot be imagined without sacrifice, and one cannot imagine love flourishing without friendship to nourish it.”[2] Love, sacrifice, and friendship, then, form the themes for our meditation as we consider what Jesus has done for us.

This understanding of sacrifice runs through each of the readings proclaimed for us. Together with the Psalmist, we have just prayed to God, saying, “To you I will offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving” (Psalm 116:17). In the first reading, we heard of the sacrifice of the Passover lamb, by which the Hebrews were saved from that terrifying tenth plague (cf. Exodus 12:7). The blood of the lamb saved them from death.

When he reflected on the ancient sacrifices, Saint Augustine observed that “those sacrifices signified the things which we do for the purpose of drawing near to God, and inducing our neighbor to do the same.”[3] What is it that we do to draw near to God? It is precisely the sacrifice of thanksgiving we offer to the Father; it is what we heard in the second reading, namely the command of the Lord Jesus to “do this in remembrance of me” (I Corinthians 11:24, 25). In loving obedience, the Son God offers himself to the Father; we offer that same sacrifice to the Father, even as we seek to offer our lives in union with the sacrifice of Jesus. 

Detail, The Last Supper, The Winchester Psalter, BL Cotton MS Nero C VI, f20r

In the Eucharistic celebration the Lord Jesus extends his self-offering even to us. At that Last Supper with his Apostles, the Messiah anticipated his own sacrifice to the Father when he changed bread and wine into his Body and Blood.

We have gathered in faithful obedience to what Christ Jesus instructed Saint Paul to do, and what the Apostle in turn instructs us to do (cf. I Corinthians 11:23).

The Eucharist and the Mass is the most sacred tradition in the world because what it ‘hands down’ (the literal meaning of tradition’) is nothing less than God incarnate, our only hope of salvation and eternal life and joy.[4]

We have gathered tonight to do what the Lord commanded us to do, so that the sacred power of his Paschal Blood might save us from sin and death. Indeed, “The Eucharist does not just memorialize Christ’s death and resurrection, although it does that. It breaks the barriers of time and space and makes each communicant a participant in those events; the Eucharist anchors time in eternity.”[5] Consequently, our sacrifice of thanksgiving is the very same sacrifice of love Jesus offers to the Father.

Jesus sacrificed himself for us because he loved us, because he loves us still (cf. John 13:1; 14:21; 15:9). Moreover, he offered his loving sacrifice for us because he has called us friends (cf. John 15:15). It is too often forgotten that “friendship is another school of sacrifice.”[6] We see this exemplified when the Lord Jesus humbled himself to wash the feet of the Twelve (cf. John 13:4-5). It is from this school of friendship that we must learn to make of ourselves a loving sacrifice to the Father and to one another.

The frequent reception of Holy Communion is the best way to take the interconnection between love, sacrifice, and friendship into both mind and heart. The Eucharist teaches a husband how to offer himself continually to his wife in his role as provider and protector. It teaches a wife how to offer herself continually to her husband in her role as nourisher and supporter. It teaches a priest how to offer himself continually to his parishioners in his role as shepherd. It teaches each member of a family how to offer themselves to each other in the daily relationship of family life. It teaches an employee how to offer himself in the task at hand. It teaches a student to offer herself in the assignment to be completed. It teaches us all how to imitate Jesus in every aspect and at every moment of our lives.

We bring our moments of self-sacrificial love to the altar to join them to the self-sacrificial love of the Son of God. It is he, the teacher and master, who calls us friends and inspires us with his heroic and obedient love of the Father (cf. John 13:13, 6:38; Philippians 2:8). We receive his sacrifice into ourselves so that we might do as he done, to love him and to love one another, and to do so “to the end” (cf. John 13:15; John 13:1).

The Eucharist teaches us how to imitate Christ Jesus and live self-sacrificial lives, the only way to true Christian heroism and sanctity. Just as Jesus offered the Eucharist on the altar of the Cross, so must our self-sacrificial love be offered “on the altar of our heart” so that it might be kindled by what Saint Augustine called the ignis amoris eius, the fire of his love.[7] If we remain in friendship with the Lord by doing what he has commanded and imitating the Sacrament of Love, if we offer our hearts as a sacrifice to be set aflame by the fire of his love, we will be “remolded in the image of permanent loveliness” (cf. John 15:14).[8] Amen.

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[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm’s Son,” Essays and Studies 6 (1953): ___.

[2] Craig Bernthal, Tolkien’s Sacramental Vision: Discerning the Holy in Middle-earth (Kettering, Ohio: Second Spring, 2014), 257.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, City of God, X.5.

[4] Peter Kreeft, Food for the Soul: Reflections on the Mass Readings (Elk Grove Village, Illinois: Word on Fire, 2023), 261.

[5] Bernthal, Tolkien’s Sacramental Vision, 248.

[6] Ibid., 260.

[7] Augustine of Hippo, The City of God, X.3, 6.

[8] Ibid., X.6.

Homily for the Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper

 The Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper - Holy Thursday

Dear brothers and sisters,

An essential aspect of the celebration of the Jewish Passover is often overlooked. It goes unnoticed perhaps because it is so obvious: Passover was a family celebration that took place in the home (cf. Exodus 12:3).

Standing around the family table, the family ate of the roasted lamb and the unleavened bread with bitter herbs (cf. Exodus 12:8). They did so not just to remember what happened for their ancestors in Egypt, but to experience for themselves the Lord’s saving power. Looked at in this way,

…that night in Egypt is an image of the power of death, of the destruction and chaos which are always rising up from the depths of the world and of man, and which threaten to destroy the ‘good’ creation and transform the world into a desert, into something uninhabitable. In this situation the home and the family offer a place of shelter.[1]

In other words, the family becomes, as it were, “the protecting wall in life, the place in which we are safe and at peace, the peace of being together, which lets us live and preserves creation.”[2]

Tonight we gather as Jesus’ family, as those incorporated into him through Baptism. The Church – not simply the physical building but the Body and Bride of Christ – have become “the new family, the new city, and it is for us what Jerusalem was, that living home which keeps away the forces of evil and is the place of peace, which preserves creation and us.”[3]

Just as the walls of the homes of the Jewish families were protected with the blood of the Passover lamb given in sacrifice, the walls of the home of the family of the Church are protected with the blood of the Paschal Lamb who gives himself in sacrifice (cf. I Corinthians 11:24-25). He offers himself as the Paschal Victim because “he loved his own in the world” – he loved you and me – “and he loved them” – he loved us – “to the end” (John 13:1).

Duccio, Washing of the Feet

The Lord Jesus shows us tonight how much he loves us by washing the feet of his Apostles and instituting the Eucharistic sacrifice. The washing of feet is an outward sign of the love within his heart. That same love he poured out on the Cross when he was pierced by the lance (cf. John 19:34). This outpouring of love was foreshadowed in the Eucharistic banquet he celebrated with the family of his disciples (cf. I Corinthians 11:26). He offered himself to them and to the Father as a sacrificial victim to cleanse them of their sins (cf. I Corinthians 11:25). Through the mystery of the Eucharist he continues to offer himself to the Father - and to us - “for the forgiveness of sins” (Matthew 26:28).

Because of the Priesthood of Jesus Christ in which I share, unworthy though I am, you will soon present to me bread and wine which I in turn will offer to the Father. Those little round pieces of bread we call hosts, a word which comes from the Latin hostia, meaning “victim.” By the power of the words of the Savior, those hosts will become his Body and the wine will become his Blood. You will join yourselves to my prayer as I offer the Body and Blood of the Paschal Victim to the Father, the same sacrifice offered on Calvary, the same sacrifice begun at the Last Supper.

You and I can each experience the love of Jesus Christ in this offering. If we open our hearts to him, his love will be poured from his heart into ours. He will defend us from the chaos of the world that threatens to destroy us; he will protect us with his blood; and he will strengthen us and nourish us to keep his commandment: “love one another” (John 13:34).

As we receive this Saving Victim who offers himself to us in the Eucharist, let us not forget to offer ourselves to him. Let us offer ourselves as victims to the Father, not in the sense of those injured by another, but in the sense of those presented as an offering. This self-offering will always be accepted and transformed into “a sacrifice of thanksgiving,” allowing us to “call upon the name of the Lord” as members of his family (Psalm 116:17). Our call will be heard. We will be kept safe from sin and receive peace in the confidence of his love until we are at last brought into the home of the Father (cf. John 14:2). Amen.

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[1] Pope Benedict XVI, Journey to Easter: Spiritual Reflections for the Lenten Season (New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1987), 104.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Ibid., 105.

Homily - Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper - 1 April 2021

Holy Thursday of the Lord’s Supper (B) 

Dear brothers and sisters,

On this holy evening we commemorate the final meal of the Lord Jesus with the closest and most intimate of his friends. He had often eaten with them, and fed them, both with physical food and – more importantly – the food of his holy words. But tonight he does so seemingly for the last time as he prepares to give his life for them and for us.

Although our celebration this evening began in joy, it will end in sorrow as we experience Our Lord’s departure to the Garden of Gethsemane and his imprisonment in the cistern prior to his trial before Pontius Pilate. Tonight, therefore, we remember that “the love that drove Him to die for us was the same love that made Him give us Himself as nourishment. It was not enough to be giving us gifts, words, instructions; He gave us Himself as well.”[1] His Crucifixion is profoundly conjoined to the Last Supper.

Ms: Bibliothèque Nationale de France, BNF Fr 22928

We have gathered again, then, at the altar of the Lord to remember that the Lord Jesus “loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end” (John 13:1). Who are his own in the world if not those joined to him in the waters of Baptism? Yes, dear brothers and sisters, you and I are his own; he loved us to the end and gave himself up for us. What is more, his love is not simply something in the past tense, but also in the present tense; it is not just that he loved us, but that he loves us still (cf. Revelation 1:5).

It is his continual and ongoing love for us that we celebrate in every celebration of the Holy Mass, but on this night in a special way. He shows us the depths of his love for us in his washing of the feet of his disciples, in his giving of himself as our nourishment, and in his wondrous commitment to give his life for us, as he himself said (cf. John 13:14).

Those two little words, “for us,” carry such profound importance.

We can have no understanding of these words “for you” until we cleanse ourselves of every trace of sentimentality. We must clarify in our minds the degree of isolation Our Lord stood in, abandoned by all that might have helped, without the stimulating atmosphere pervading great affairs, no enthusiasm of any kind about Him, without the support of elan or natural drives or creative compulsion. He knows that men are lost. He knows they can only breathe in the freedom of salvation when satisfaction has been made for their sins. Life may only come to them through a death which He alone can die. He takes this for granted, starts from this premise. That is what is meant by the “for us.”[2]

Just as he asks those first disciples, so he asks each one of us: “Do you realize what I have done for you” (John 13:12)? We cannot fully realize what he has done for us unless we realize what it means that he has loved us to the end.

On first hearing, we might think that this phrase means he loved us to his death. This is not altogether incorrect; indeed, it is true. At the same time, however, it is not altogether complete. Saint Augustine tells us that this phrase, “to the end,” means “the end that consummates, not that consumes; the end whereto we attain, not wherein we perish,” which is to say the end as in the goal.[3] The goal of the Christian life, of course, is Christ Jesus; “he is our end; into Him do we pass.”[4]

We can pass into Christ as the goal of our lives because he continually nourishes us with the gift of himself. Whereas normal food is changed into us, with the Holy Eucharist – the Body and Blood of the Lord Jesus – he changes us into himself by the strength and power of his love. Let us then this night renew our love for him in this night so that we might understand what he has done for us. Let us strive to draw so close to him as to be his close and intimate friends that we may truly be his own. Amen.

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[1] Romano Guardini, Jesus Christ: A Classic Meditation on Christ by the Author of The Lord (Notre Dame, Indiana: Ave Maria Press, 2012), 97.

[2] Ibid., 95-96.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John, 55.2.

[4] Ibid.

Homily - 9 April 2020 - Holy Thursday of the Lord's Supper

Holy Thursday

Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper

Dear brothers and sisters,

J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote to his son Michael of the great importance and centrality of the Holy Eucharist. In doing so, the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings referred to a poem by Francis Thompson comparing the love of God to a hound who continually chases after him. Tolkien said, “Not for me the Hound of Heaven, but the never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle, and the sense of starving hunger.”[1] Of course, by speaking of the “never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle,” Tolkien did not mean the golden box in our churches, but rather that cherished treasure housed therein: the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar.

Who of us has not also experienced this sense of starving hunger for the Bread of Life and the Chalice of Salvation? Though we may have taken the gift of the Eucharist for granted in the past, our longing and yearning for it has, in these past few weeks, been heightened and we have become perhaps more aware of our need for Holy Communion, both with the Lord and with one another.

Particularly on this day, Holy Thursday of the Lord’s Supper, the never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle stirs in our hearts all the more because on this day we participate in that Last Supper in which the Lord Jesus, who,

on the night he was betrayed, … loving those who were his own in the world even to the end, offered his body and blood to the Father under the appearances of bread and wine, gave them to the apostles to eat and drink, then enjoined the apostles and their successors in the priesthood to offer them in turn.[2]

What the Church believes about the Holy Eucharist has hit home to us quite deeply because we have not been able to gather at the altar of the Lord. We have come to realize in a profound way that it is from the Eucharist that we draw “the fullness of charity and of life.”[3]

Perhaps the Lord is inviting us in these days – and especially tonight - to quiet ourselves, to be still, and to allow his never-ceasing silent appeal to stir us from our spiritual sloth to a greater and more intentional devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. Perhaps he is inviting us to recognize our starving hunger for him in a way that normal fasting could not bring about. On this night, church bells will fall silent, but the tabernacle will not. Let us attune the ears of our hearts to its call and draw near to him at the altar of our hearts.

As a man deeply devoted to the Eucharist, Tolkien knew well the power hidden within such a humble appearance. He also knew that the Eucharist calls us to live in the fullness of charity and life. He said to his son, “But I fell in love with the Blessed Sacrament from the beginning – and by the mercy of God never have fallen out again: but alas! I indeed did not live up to it.”[4]

Although we draw from the Eucharist the fullness of charity and of life to which we are called as members of the Body of Christ, we do not always live up to the Eucharist; strengthened by the gift of the Lord himself, we do not always imitate his selfless service of others and make of ourselves an offering to God the Father.

The Sacred Triduum this year will be celebrated and observed in a most curious fashion, one that none of us would have asked for, but this does not mean divine grace will be absent or lacking; indeed, the Lord may yet surprise us with how his grace may touch our hearts. Let us, then, this night, recognize our starving hunger for him and hear his continual call of love that he may feed us with his love. Let us open our hearts to him who allowed his heart to be opened to us. Amen.

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[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Michael Tolkien, 1 November 1963. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Humphrey Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, eds. (Boston, Massachusetts: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2000), 340.

[2] Ceremonial of Bishops, 297.

[3] Roman Missal, Collect for Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper.

[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, ibid.

Homily - 13 April 2017 - Holy Thursday - How often do you and I refuse the Lord’s humility?

Thursday of the Lord’s Supper

At the Evening Mass

Dear brothers and sisters,

Near the close of this Thursday of the Lord’s Supper, we encounter two men who refused to obey the Lord Jesus Christ, though both called him “Master” (John 13:6; Matthew 26:49). One of their refusals was grounded in a love of the Master, while the other was not.

We are privileged this evening to enter, as it were, into the Upper Room, to watch and hear what took place on that night during which everything changed. We once again hear Saint Peter refuse to obey the Lord Jesus because of his “fearful reverence” for the one he knows to be “the Christ, the Son of the living God” (cf. John 13:5; Matthew 16:16).[1] Peter’s motivation for refusing the Lord’s intention to wash his feet is perhaps a good one because it is grounded in his love for Jesus, but it is certainly misguided. When Peter said to Jesus, “You will never wash my feet,” it is as if he said to him, “You are doing this for me? You, as Lord, are doing this for me, a servant? You, the Master, are doing this for me, the disciple? You, the Almighty, are doing this for miserable me” (John 13:8)?[2]

Because of his reverential love for the Lord Jesus, it was unthinkable for Peter that “he who is ‘clothed in light as in a robe’ was clad in a cloak (Psalm 104:2).” It was unspeakable that “he who wraps the heavens in clouds wrapped round himself a towel.” It was impossible that “he who pours the water into rivers and pools tipped some water into a basin.” It was unimaginable that “he before whom every knee bends in heaven and on earth and under the earth knelt to wash the feet of his disciples.”[3] Peter thought it beneath the Lord’s dignity to bend so low, “to cast aside the raiment of divine glory and put on the garb of a slave.”[4] Perhaps Peter was right, but love always entails a desire to sacrifice oneself for the beloved; nothing else is love to the end (cf. John 13:1). It is precisely because of the Lord’s love that he knelt at Peter’s feet; it is because of this same love that the Lord Jesus desires to kneel at our feet, as well.

If Peter at first refused the Lord’s will because of his overriding concern for the Lord’s own dignity, it was because Peter was not concerned with himself, but rather with the Lord. For this reason, his refusal soon gave way to obedience as he enthusiastically accepted the Lord’s humility. Peter returned again and again to Jesus merciful love, to confess his sinfulness, and to receive a new washing from the Lord. Peter did so not because he was concerned for himself, but because he knew that by his sins he offended the Lord’s dignity by turning from the one who loved him so deeply. This is why Peter “went out and wept bitterly” when he looked into the eyes of Jesus’ in the midst of his Passion (cf. Luke 22:62).

How often do you and I refuse the Lord’s humility? How often does Jesus desire to kneel down and wash “our dirty feet so that we might be admitted to God’s banquet and be made worthy to take our place at his table – something that on our own we neither could nor would ever be able to do”?[5] How often we do stand up and walk away from him?

Unlike Saint Peter, we do not refuse the Lord’s humility out of a reverence for his dignity and honor; this would at least be admirable. Rather, we refuse his humility because of a concern for our own dignity. Just as it can sometimes be difficult to find willing volunteers for the liturgical rite of the washing of feet because some do not want their feet to be seen or touched by another, it often happens that we refuse to acknowledge our sin to the Lord because we are concerned with our own honor and not with his.

Why do we refuse the Lord’s action of love? Why do we close ourselves off to his grace? Why are we more concerned with our dignity than with his? It is because we have forgotten that

God is not a remote God, too distant or too great to be bothered with our trifles. Since God is great, he can also be concerned with small things. Since he is great, the soul of man, the same man created through eternal love, is no small thing but great, and worthy of God’s love.[6]

Judas the Iscariot refused to obey the Lord’s humble desire because he was absorbed with himself. He sought to make a profit out of one whom he called Master and betrayed the one he called friend. Tonight, if we, like Peter, open our hearts and extend our feet to Jesus, we can experience the depths of his love.

He loved his own – us – to the end and he showed this by giving his life on the Cross. Before he poured out his love for us, he anticipated his death and gave us the means to be constantly joined to his pierced heart, from which flows the fountain of grace and mercy. He gave us the Eucharist so that he might always be with us and that we might always be with him. We have gathered this evening asking of the eternal Father “that we may draw from so great a mystery the fullness of charity and of life.”[7]

Dear brothers and sisters, let us pray tonight that our desire for the Lord’s friendship might be as strong as Peter’s.  Let us pray that our desire for him will be so strong that we will allow the Lord to humble himself to wash our feet.  Let us pray that we will desire his friendship above all else and never refuse his humble love.  Amen.

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[1] Saint Bonaventure, Commentary on the Gospel of John, 13.6. Robert J. Karris, trans. (Saint Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2007), 688.

[2] Ibid., 13.7.

[3] Severian of Gabala, Homily on the Washing of Feet. In Thomas C. Oden, et al, eds., Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, New Testament Vol. IVb: John 11-21 (Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter Varsity Press, 2007), 86.

[4] Benedict XVI, Homily, 13 April 2006.

[5] Benedict XVI, Homily, 13 April 2006.

[6] Benedict XVI, Homily, 13 April 2006.

[7] Collect at the Evening Mass of Thursday of the Lord’s Supper, Roman Missal.