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We
never argued about religion, that beautiful Lutheran woman and I.
We d id have many discussions, especially in those first two years of
marriage. Once she asked me to explain the difference between Lutheran and
Catholic doctrines on the Eucharist.
Eruditely, I dug up a copy of Luther's "Small Catechism" and paced
the floor
as I quoted that, according to her church, the sacrament "is the true
Body
and Blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ under bread and wine for us Christians to
eat and to drink, established by Christ himself."
Then I pulled down my old Baltimore Catechism and read: "After the
substance
of the bread and wine had been changed into the substance of the body and
blood of Our Lord there remained only the appearances of bread and
wine."
Catholics, I explained, believe that the Real Presence means Jesus is there
”body, blood, soul and divinity” even after Mass, when the sacrament is
reserved in the tabernacle. And there's no longer a crumb we can call bread
or a drop we can call wine.
Then that beautiful woman looked up at me from her chair and laughed.
My eyebrows went up. "What's so funny?"
"You don't believe that," she said.
"Yes I do."
"No you don't," she replied. "If you do, then why do you only
go to Mass on
Sunday? You don't even visit the Church during the week."
Since that conversation in 1986, I've been to Mass just about every day. By
her laughter, Terri brought home a powerful truth. Not that Catholics have to
go to Mass every day; we don't. But why didn't I want to? Why had it never
occurred to me that I might go to Communion more often?
It took the laughter of God's messenger to change me.
What brings this to mind now is our nearness to the solemnity of the Body and
Blood of Christ. Because of my experience, I've declared this feast my
personal holiday to thank the Lord for the good fruits of ecumenical
dialogue, and to pray for the day when all Christians are reunited as a
family around one common table.
Our Lord himself prayed for Christian unity, so we can pretty much count on
its happening. Of course, there's plenty of nastiness we have to get over,
and there are doctrinal differences that cannot be resolved short of
conversion. But the Good Shepherd is doing the gathering, and He can work
miracles.
This I know. Since 1991 my own family has lived the beautiful communion that
I wish for the whole Church. That year I witnessed the miracle I had long
stopped dreaming of On Easter Vigil my wife was received into the Roman
Catholic Church.
So there's much I can be thankful for on Corpus Christi. What we can't seem
to accomplish in ecclesiastical boardrooms and windy documents, maybe we can
accomplish with a song, a prayer, and the well-timed laughter of a loved one
in the Lord.
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