Today, on the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ—Corpus Christi—we gather to celebrate the great mystery at the heart of our faith: the Eucharist. But today’s feast is not only about a doctrine we believe or a ritual we perform. It is about Jesus, truly present, who comes to satisfy the deepest hunger of our hearts.
In today’s Gospel, we see a tired and hungry crowd. And what does Jesus do? He does not send them away. He welcomes them. He teaches, heals, and finally, feeds them. With five loaves and two fish, he satisfies thousands—not with noise or spectacle, but through the humble, quiet hands of his disciples. “They all ate and were satisfied.” This is the Eucharist. It nourishes silently. It does not dazzle. It transforms.
Every time we come to Mass, two movements unfold: we eat, and we are satisfied. We bring our weariness, our hopes, our hunger — for meaning, love, and peace —and Jesus gives us not just something, but himself. He becomes our Bread. He becomes our strength. He becomes our joy.
But the gift of the Eucharist is never meant to remain only in the sanctuary. Jesus told his disciples, “You give them something to eat.” Every time we receive the Body of Christ, we are called to recognise and serve that same Body in others—in the poor, the lonely, the neglected. If we truly adore Christ in the Host, we must also meet him in the faces of those who hunger for love, dignity, and hope.
This year, our celebration takes on a deeper meaning with the Vatican’s recognition of a Eucharistic miracle in India. During a Mass in 2013, a radiant, Christ-like face appeared on the consecrated host. After 11 years of theological and scientific scrutiny, the Church declared it an extraordinary sign. The image was not painted or added — it emerged from the host itself.
This miracle doesn’t seek to astonish, but to invite. It’s not a spectacle of bleeding or physical change, but a gentle gaze—Christ revealing himself in tenderness, from the very Bread of Life. In a world where belief in the Real Presence is fading, this miracle calls us back. It whispers, “I am here. I wait for you.”
It also reminds us that holiness often blossoms at the margins. This miracle happened in a small, rural parish, yet it now speaks to the whole Church. As Pope Francis often says, the Church lives and breathes on the peripheries. Christ chooses the simple to remind us of what is essential.
So today, as we adore the Blessed Sacrament, let us ask for new eyes of faith. The miracle of Vilakkannur, in Kerala is not the exception. Every Mass is a miracle. Every Host is Christ. Every Communion is a homecoming. May we recognise him in the breaking of the bread, may our hearts burn with renewed wonder and love.
Amen.
Father Josekutty Mathew CMF
