We begin this Sunday’s reflection with the account of the call of the prophet Elisha. It was just an ordinary day for Elisha. He was plowing his field, but God had directed Israel’s greatest prophet, Elijah, to anoint Elisha as his successor. When he found him, Elijah immediately placed his cloak over Elisha’s shoulders. God’s invitation came through that simple gesture. Elijah had passed on his prophetic mantle. It was a serious moment. Elisha’s response was immediate and radical. He asked permission to give a final kiss to his father and mother. He then slaughtered the oxen that had been pulling his plow and used the wood of the plow to offer them up as a holocaust to God. In that sacrifice he offered his entire past to God. Freed of any and all attachments, he left everything he knew and followed the prophet Elijah.
The theme of “the call” is taken up and developed in the Gospel. We begin with a scene of failure.
Jesus and the apostles were on their way to Jerusalem and were passing through Samaria. The apostles went ahead of him in an attempt to do some preliminary preaching but they were rejected by the people. They were filled with anger against the Samaritans. “Lord, do you want us to call down fire from heaven to consume them?” Their anger was met with a rebuke from Jesus. He redirected their vision and continued on the missionary journey.
As they traveled along, Jesus was inviting people to follow him. He met one rejection after another. They weren’t hostile rejections, however. There were half-hearted acceptances of his invitation. “First, let me go and bury my father.” “Let me say farewell to my family at home.”
Jesus clearly wanted more from them. “Let the dead bury their dead. But you, go and proclaim the Kingdom of God!” He wanted them to break from their past just as Elisha the prophet did. “No one who sets a hand to the plow and looks to what was left behind is fit for the Kingdom of God.” And to those who said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go,” he raised a serious caution. “Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.”
These scriptures are a reminder for us. We’ve been called, too. Seriously, we’ve been called! We’re not here in this church by accident. We’ve been anointed – baptized into the life and mission of Jesus. Yes, quite seriously, each of us has been called, just as the prophets were called, just as the apostles were called. Today, the Church is reminding us of the radical nature of that calling.
Today we’re being asked to assess our response to Jesus’ call. What does it mean for me to be a follower of Christ? How does it touch my everyday life? How does it touch the people I meet and work with every day? How radical is my response to the call? Do I keep looking back?
Today, we’re invited to raise a renewed and radical “yes’ to God’s personal call.
Before you read this reflection look up to the Latin text that surrounds this church. It’s the first two stanzas of a hymn written by St. Thomas Aquinas. The text begins in the sanctuary on the left side of the high altar, continues along the south side of the church, and concludes at the spot where the text began – the left side of the high altar. The text and the translation follow.
Lauda Sion Salvatorem,
Lauda ducem et pastorem,
In hymnis et canticis.
Quantum potes, tantum laude,
Quia maior omni laude,
Nec laudare suffices.
Laudis thema specialis,
Panis vivus et vitalis
Quem in sacrae mensa cenae,
Turbae fractrum duodenae
Datum non ambigitur.
Zion, praise the Savior,
praise the Shepherd and King
with Hymns and canticles.
As much as you can, as much as you
dare to raise up the greatest praise
it is insufficient.
Today we lift up the unique theme,
the living, and life-giving bread.
There is no ambiguity
about the meaning of the sacred
meal that was shared by the band of
Whenever we’re in this church, the memory of the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist is ever-present in these words of St. Thomas Aquinas. They remind us to reflect on the miracle of the sacred meal, the bread and the wine – the body and blood – the Eucharist. There isn’t any ambiguity about what we believe. Our Lord is always with us, continually offering himself to us as food for everlasting life.
Jesus calls us to gather around the sacred table just as he gathered the Twelve. He says to us what he said to them: “Take it, this is my body.” He’s telling us that he’s giving us his all – every fiber of his being. He telling us, “This is my blood of the covenant.” He’s inviting us into a new relationship – a covenant relationship with God.
When we eat the sacred bread of Christ’s body, and drink the wine of the covenant, his blood shed as a sacrificial offering for the redemption of the world, we’re invited into a deeply intimate relationship with God and one another. St. Paul teaches us, “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a participation in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ? Because the loaf of bread is one, we, though many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf.”
Before you leave this church today I encourage you to look around. Every window speaks of the Eucharist. There are representations of the Passover, the Last Supper, the multiplication of the loaves and fish, the washing of the disciples’ feet. Most importantly, our Eucharistic Lord is present on the altar for our adoration, our prayer and our praise.
Before you leave the church today spend some quiet time in adoration. Lift your own hymn of praise to the Lord who sustains you with his body and blood, and who unites you into an intimate relationship with the Father, and our brothers and sisters in faith. Pray Jesus’ Last Supper prayer: “May they all be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they may also be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me.” (John 17:21) Thank Jesus for the greatest gift he could have ever given us, his body and blood in the Eucharist.