You are—or you should be—what you eat

Homily for May 29, 2016 (Body and Blood of Christ)
All Saints/St. Anthony Parish, Chicago
Genesis 14:18-20; Psalm 110; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; Luke 9:11b-17

I recently watched a documentary about the patronas, a group of women in Mexico--most of them Catholic--who supply food and drink to migrants from Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador who, at great risk to their health and lives, stow away on trains heading north toward the United States.  Some are fleeing drug violence or difficult family situations but most are seeking jobs and better economic opportunities.  Most are young men but there are also women and even children.

This way of travel is full of hazards.  Riding on the tops or on the backs of trains, the migrants and their meager possessions are exposed to the elements--everything from the hot sun to torrential storms.  They play a cat-and-mouse game with railroad security. They must board the trains as they are moving, which means that they could be seriously maimed or killed under the wheels.  They may travel for days without food and water.

That's where the patronas come in.  They fix simple meals of rice, beans, tortillas and day-old bread that they themselves supply or receive as donations and put them in bags.  Then, with wheelbarrows filled with the begged lunches and bottles of water, they go to tracks and literally throw the lunches and bottles to the migras, who lean over to grab as many as they can.

Not all of the bags and bottles make it; and there are never enough to feed everyone.  When interviewed about this, several of the women got choked up or wept:  they only desired that everyone could have something to eat and drink.

I thought of those women as I reflected on today's gospel reading and this Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.  Like Jesus and his disciples facing the huge crowd they don't have much, but with trust in God's goodness and love they share whatever they have.  Isn't that a central part of what we do in the Eucharist?   We come with simple gifts of bread and wine, bringing them to the altar with whatever tithes or monetary gifts we can offer.  Like Jesus and Melchezidek before him, we give thanks for what we have received and ask God to bless it.  Then we share what we have received, first in church and then in our homes and our communities.

The Eucharist that we celebrate and the communion we share in church cannot be separated from our lives outside.  When there's a contradiction, it's noticeable.  In our second reading, St. Paul recounts to the church in Corinth the tradition of the Last Supper that had been handed on to them and which was to be renewed whenever they gathered.  If you read a little earlier in 1 Corinthians 11, however, you will find that Paul gave this instruction in distress.  He had found that, instead of overcoming their social and economic divisions their gatherings were merely serving to underscore them.

In challenging them to live and celebrate Eucharist with greater integrity, Paul was in effect telling them:  "You are--or you should be--what you eat!"  The patronas, as humble and poor as they are, have remembered this.  May we remember it, too. +