The Greatest Miracle

Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ

The readings for this feast are interesting. Our story of the Eucharist reaches back in time to the earliest point in Salvation History, bearing historical and spiritual resonance with Christ.

The first reading introduces us to an enigmatic figure, whose background and role in the storyline of Genesis remain obscure but who is mentioned again, but this time with greater elaboration, in the New Testament letter to the Hebrews. Although Melchizedek may not be a major figure in Scripture, he’s an important one, so important that he would fuel the imagination of the author of Hebrews and inspire him to make this connexion with Jesus. Hebrews, more than any other book in the bible, tells us that Melchizedek is a key forerunner to Jesus, and his story in Genesis helps us to understand what our Lord was doing when He instituted the Eucharist at the Last Supper.

After Abram (later renamed “Abraham”) had rescued his nephew Lot from a bloody battle with pagan kings, Melchizedek immediately showed up in the story, seemingly out of nowhere. His name, as we are rightly told by the author of Hebrews, means King of Righteousness. He is also described as the King of Salem (many scholars take this to be an ancient name of Jerusalem), the King of Peace. Both titles could easily be ascribed to Jesus, thus reinforcing the link. But perhaps, the most significant connexion with Christ is not to be seen in these titles nor in Melchizedek’s mysterious origins, but in the action of this Old Testament figure.

Melchizedek, after he is summarily introduced, brings out bread and wine. Why did he bring out bread and wine? Was he just being hospitable to his guest, Abram? Was he planning a picnic? The text doesn’t explicitly tell us, but it does give us a clue. Right after it mentions the bread and wine, the text tells us that Melchizedek was a priest. This is very telling. He is the first person in the Bible, to be referred to as a priest. It suggests that the bread and wine were somehow linked to his priesthood, so he did not bring them out just because he thought Abram might have been hungry. Rather, he brought them out because he was a priest, and since priests are by definition people who offer sacrifice, he must have offered them to God as a sacrifice. This interpretation is supported by his next action as a priest - he offers a benediction to Abram.

In response, Abram gives Melchizedek a tithe, a tenth of all the spoils of war, a practice that would be continued by all the tribes of Israel, as they paid an annual tithe to the tribe of Levi, the priestly tribe, as compensation for their full-time priestly services. The author of Hebrew even makes this audacious claim that Levi paid these tithes through Abraham, indicating the superiority of the priesthood of Melchizedek over that of Levi’s. This mysterious figure then disappears, after having appeared mysteriously as a brief interlude to Abram’s story. He or at least his name, reappears again in the only other passage in the Old Testament, a key verse from the Psalms (which appears as an antiphon which is sung immediately after a priest has been ordained): “You are a priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.” (Psalm 110:4) In its original context, this Psalm referred to the royal descendants of King David who ruled over the Israelites, but the New Testament applies it to Jesus (Hebrews 7:17).

We can already see the strong Eucharistic overtones in this passage, the offering of bread and wine being only the most obvious. But all of this was merely a shadowy anticipation of what Christ would accomplish. It was only a partial picture. God is not done in history until He is with us, until He is one of us, until the true King and Priest “after the order of Melchizedek” arrives to offer sacrifice, not just ordinary bread and wine, for us, the true children of Abraham.

Next, let us consider today’s Gospel - the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fishes. Only one miracle of Jesus is recorded in all four Gospels and it is this. We might find it strange that on the Feast of Corpus Christi, instead of giving us an account of the Last Supper where the Eucharist was instituted, the Gospel focuses on this miracle. Despite modern popular explanations given to this story, it must be reiterated that this is a miracle of multiplication and not a “miracle” of sharing. Modernists want always to reduce the supernatural to the natural. Hence, they say that this event was really about how people spontaneously started to share the food they had, but hadn’t told anyone about.

But no matter how spectacular this miracle is, it is merely another foreshadowing of a greater miracle – it looks forward to another miraculous feeding at the Last Supper – the Eucharist. Although, the Gospel does not give us one of the narratives of the Last Supper, the second reading does – it is St Paul accounting the tradition that had been passed down to him, which he attributes directly to the Lord: “this is what I received from the Lord, and in turn passed on to you.” Note the manner in which he describes this event, as having received it first-hand, even though we all know that he was not present in the Upper Room during the Last Supper. Consider the parallels. Both events were proximate to Passover. It was evening. Those present all reclined. Christ took, blessed and broke the bread. He gave thanks (from the Greek root – eucharisteo) and gave it to the disciples.

Starting from the distant past of Melchizedek’s offering, we move through the manna of the Exodus to the new miraculously multiplied bread to the true bread from heaven, the bread transformed into Christ’s own Body and Blood, which is Itself a foretaste of the new creation and the world to come. One miracle points to a greater one. Instead of being fed bread that can satisfy the body, we are given bread from heaven that will last forever! The Eucharist may seem less spectacular than the miracle of multiplication, but it is in no way inferior. In fact, the miracle of the Eucharist is God’s greatest miracle, and because it is not something which can be recognised by our senses, it is one that calls for greater faith. God deigns to give us, under the guise of mere bread, His very Self. The Eucharist, the Bread of Life, the food of angels, sustains our pilgrimage on this side of eternity. The Body of Christ is broken and given to the multitudes during the Mass.

The beauty of the miracle occurring at each Mass—that Jesus becomes really, truly and substantially present under the forms of mere bread and wine—grounds our faith and reflects the words our Lord spoke: “I am the Bread of Life. He who feeds on my Flesh and drinks my Blood has life eternal, and I will raise him up on the last day.” (Jn 6:35, 54-56) This is no small matter—what an incredible gift from God! We must, therefore, never forget that when we participate at Mass, we witness a miracle, and we participate in this very miracle through the reception of Holy Communion, we share in the Divine Life of our Saviour. Let our petition echo the words of the Sequence: “Come then, good shepherd, bread divine, still show to us thy mercy sign; Oh, feed us still, still keep us thine; So may we see thy glories shine in fields of immortality.”