A good word to reflect on at this time is the word dignity. And we can place alongside dignity the word “worth.” “You are worth more than many sparrows.” One trap we never wish to fall into is the trap that something other than the human person beholds greater dignity and worth before God. This has never been the understanding of ourselves in our Christian faith, and, it does not reconcile with what Jesus quietly speaks to his Disciples in the solitude of where this Gospel is set. One of the great verses in Scripture testifies to the Lord being the firstborn of all creatures. When St. Paul wrote those words in Colossians, he did not write that Jesus was the firstborn of man and woman. He wrote “all creatures” all creation, everything created from the mouth of God, is renewed in the resurrection of Christ. And I like using this verse from Paul to answer the dog question, “Father, do dogs go to heaven?” The technical, theological answer is that only creatures with reason, with the capacity to choose or reject heaven, can walk past the Pearly Gates. It is believed St. Peter never said, “Fido, show me your good works,” and received an answer. Now, before you get angry with me because of how much you love your dogs and other creatures, I go back to St. Paul’s verse in Colossians, that Jesus is the first-born of all creatures, and leave it at that. That tends to satisfy dog-lovers and their answer to “Do dogs go to heaven?” At the same time, we are worth more than many sparrows, and many dogs too. Our dignity is exponentially greater, because that’s how God created things. There is an order to dignity and worth before God’s presence and in God’s sight. And we are at the top of the created chain. This is why Jesus became one of us, and not a turtle. Along the way we can lose sight of this holy truth of dignity and worth. Of our value of living in Christ. We may forget we are worth more than many sparrows. We may lose sight of the lasting truth that never changes that we are the only creature made in the image and likeness of God. Especially when there are riots, lootings, burning down businesses and vehicles, social discord, the killing of a person who didn’t need to die, and such. It’s easy to lose sight of our true value, our worth, our dignity, where we become the dogs, and dogs become us. But we must return to this basic Godly truth; that while many human forces seek to separate, conquer, divide, and cause violence and chaos among people whom God has claimed as his own, and whose Son was sent into the world to redeem us. While many forces among us work the powers of discord and separation, imitating the demons that Christ called out of possessed people he encountered. While confusion can and has reached a fever pitch, there has to remain a group willing to stick out their necks, not fear others who kill the body, and speak and act the words of Jesus that says we are worth more than many sparrows. At the heart of Jesus’ message this week is the remembrance of our true worth, the honest value of who you are. While others may forget their dignity and worth, it’s the calling of the Christian not to stand in judgment, but to call others to that higher plane. To evangelize our greater worth, putting aside discord because it lessens our value, and taking on peace and brotherhood that reveals God within us.

As similar to the latter part of Lent, most of the Easter season except for the 7th Sunday of Easter when Churches reopened, Corpus Christi Sunday takes on an element of absence. We’re grateful that we can gather together and celebrate the liturgy where those who are in attendance can approach the altar of the Lord and receive the Body & Blood of Christ. Where spiritual communion, for those who performed one during the time of absence, is now in the rearview mirror. It’s good to have certain things behind us. Our sins fall into that category. But also something that was meant to hold us over until we were able to return to the real thing. The fullness of the Eucharist. So, while there’s joy in Mudville at 353 Grove Street, and the addresses of all Catholic Churches throughout the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, joy emanating from your beautiful presence here in pews that are taped off, there remains a certain level of sadness too. Sadness that not all our folks are ready to bring themselves from the holdover of spiritual communion to reception of our Lord’s Body & Blood. Not to mention those who are ready to be here now, but cannot because of underlying medical conditions, age, or physical or emotional incapacity. Our hearts and prayers are with this entire absent group of believers and saints. We love them; we care about them; we miss them, looking ahead to the day when they return to the Upper Room. But as with all things Christ, the joy always defeats sadness, though both can be present simultaneously. The joy of our Lord’s resurrection and victory over the ultimate virus, death, is our better half. Our companion and friend. Moses in today’s 1st reading reminded the Israelites of how God cared for them as a large group of wanderers when they escaped the clutches of Egyptian slavery. Part of Moses’ reminder was the satisfaction of their stomachs. They complained in the desert of how hungry and thirsty they were. And who wouldn’t be hungry and thirsty in a desert after wandering around for months and years? Makes sense to me! But from the heavens came a food – a bread – never seen by anyone previously, unheard in all Jewish cookbooks, flakes of hoarfrost every morning straight from the ovens and bakers of heaven – even better than Crown Bakery – landing softly on the desert floor while they slept. The delicious flakes came down from heaven in the midst of the night like Santa dropping down a chimney on Christmas Eve. Then, they walked out of their tents after a good night’s rest on the sand, noticed the flakes on the surface, and asked, “What is this? We have never seen this before.” Moses reminded them after 40 years of wandering how God fed them and care for them. God so loved his Chosen People that the only ones who died in those 40 years were the obstinate complainers, which nobody likes, and those of natural old age causes. Everyone else survived 40 years in the desert, crossing over the Jordan, entering the land of promise. The bread from Crown Bakery in heaven gave them strength to carry on each day. The show-bread and stomachs made for a satisfying combination. Jesus, many centuries later, when out doing his desert ministry, stumbled upon one of those breads, picked it up off the desert ground, and said, “You see this bread? This bread is now me.” He said, “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man in the desert of this world, and, unless you drink the blood of the Son of Man from the Rock of this world, the Rock being the Church built on Peter, you do not have life within you.” In other words, you will not make it to the Promised Land. When we hear and ponder these explicit words of Christ speaking to the crowds, there’s no need to stretch the imagination too far to figure out why the churches from where Jesus preached on the hills of Galilee, why they began to empty out like he was contagious with some deadly virus. This is what can happen when some itinerant preacher from Nazareth picks up a slice of hoarfrost off the desert floor and says, “You see this? This bread is now me. A Person. And I command you to eat this. Not so that your stomachs will be satisfied for a few moments in this passing world. But that your entire body, soul, and spirit will pass into the joys of the Promised Land that lasts forever.” That’s how much he loves us. He wants us with him forever. But, as the naysayers and non-believers have spoken, only a crazy person can believe that that bread is now a Person. A Divine Person! Only a crazy person can practice cannibalism. I’m humbled and grateful to proclaim from the mountaintops that I’m part of the crazy group of believers. And I pray you are also. We pray too for all our dear brothers and sisters who have not walked away from Jesus because of his challenging, loving words. Those who cannot be here for various reasons related to a virus. We love you; we care about you; we miss you. And we want you back to receive the flesh that is true food, and blood that is true drink.

It’s fair and proper to say that anyone who professes to believe in the name of the only Son of God, and then proceeds to perform acts of violence, does not in truth believe in the name of the only Son of God. Such actions would be radically inconsistent and offensive to believing in the name of the only Son of God. Whereas on the other hand, it would be correct, accurate, proper and truthful to say that anyone who professes to believe in the name of the only Son of God and seeks the ways of peace, then this belief and practice is consistent with believing in the name of the only Son of God. God accepts that person’s belief, rather than rejecting the claim of such belief when followed by violence. When Jesus could have called forth 10,000 legions of angels who could have wiped out the entire Roman army, he held back. He didn’t make the call to heaven. He kept his cell phone shut off, like I wish everyone would do when they come to Church. He stood before his accusers from his own race and nation, and he stood before the governing figure of Pontius Pilate, like a sheep. A sheep about to be sheered, not only of their precious wool, but their entire body. Jesus clearly saw the violence of crucifixion before him, and he didn’t make the call for angels to violently stop it. The reason – one reason – why Christ didn’t make the call to heaven for 10,000 legions of angels with swords to fly down to take care of business and save him from the hands of evil men, is because he is the Prince of Peace. If the Lord made that call for countless angels to wipe out these people who filled themselves with their own egos, the title Prince of Peace would today be scoffed at. It would be sneered at, like they sneered at Jesus as he hung on the Cross. The title Prince of Peace would be a false representation of the God-Man who so loved the world, who came to us to save, and not condemn. In times like these, between the double curse of a widespread virus and many looters and rioters, we must remember who we are and who we follow. Who we are disciples of. We’re disciples of the One who laid down his life for us rather than wipe out his opponents. At the end of Jesus’ life that he freely gave, all those people had no idea who they were dealing with. It’s like Jesus was wearing a mask, and they couldn’t recognize the Lord of all. For if he was seen for who he was, and who he is, then they, including Pilate, would have fallen on their knees and sought in the most earnest way his mercy. And, he would have freely given it. In the boundless generosity of The Most Holy Trinity, God so loved the world, he so loved us, that he gave his only Son. What did he give, in giving his Son? He gave peace over violence. He gave salvation over condemnation. He gave mercy over continued bitterness. He gave love over hate. He shut off his cell phone, put it in his robe, and gave us a way on how to relate to one another. All of this points to something greater that awaits. In times like these, I pray we heed the words of St. Paul in today’s reading that is perfectly timed, as is all Scripture: “Mend your ways, encourage one another, agree with one another, live in peace, and the God of love and peace will be with you.” Isn’t this what we desire so much? For the God of love and peace to be with us when surrounded by so much hatred, violence, and confusion? Paul’s words to the Corinthians speak to the here and now. But they look to eternal life, where those words are realized. We remember who we are in these times because our Savior remembered who he was when surrounded by the violence and hatred of his accusers. His title Prince of Peace remained because he didn’t make the call, and he did not perform actions that would have been inconsistent with God so loving the world. The truest message of violence says, “I hate the world.” Not just the way the world is with all its injustice. Violence says, I hate God’s creation. Not because of an injustice perpetrated that most people can agree goes against our better nature. The truest meaning of violence from a Christian perspective is, “I hate the world because I hate my life and I hate myself.” What we see in Christ is a Divine Person who loved his life, loved himself in the purest way, and loved the world he created and called forth. A broken world he came to, not to condemn, but to save. This is who we follow. He is the Prince of Peace because, when he could have chosen the violent answer, he kept his cell phone in his pocket. A phone that was never turned on to begin with.