Introduction
The Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, also known as Corpus Christi, is a liturgical celebration that honors the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist: His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.
Observed on the Sunday following Trinity Sunday, this feast invites the faithful to reflect on the mystery of Christ’s abiding presence in the consecrated bread and wine and the gift of communion that unites the Church.
While Holy Thursday also marks this important event, the somber nature of Holy Week can overshadow the joy that should accompany this momentous occasion.
We will see that all of today’s readings are about meals: Abram’s victory meal, the Last Supper, and the Feeding of the Five Thousand.
1st Reading – Genesis 14:18-20
In those days, Melchizedek, king of Salem, brought out bread and wine,
and being a priest of God Most High,
he blessed Abram with these words:
“Blessed be Abram by God Most High,
the creator of heaven and earth;
and blessed be God Most High,
who delivered your foes into your hand.”
Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.
Our first reading is rich in Eucharistic foreshadowing. In it, the mysterious and symbolic figure of Melchizedek, king of Salem and priest of God Most High, offers bread and wine and blesses Abram.
In those days, Melchizedek,
Abram had just returned victorious after rescuing his nephew Lot from a coalition of kings. As Abram approaches, Melchizedek meets him, bringing bread and wine, and offers a blessing.
Names are significant here, revealing deeper meaning. Melchizedek combines two Hebrew words: melek (king) and sedeq (righteousness). His name means “king of righteousness,” emphasizing the just and holy nature of his rule.
king of Salem,
While a valley named Salem exists (Judith 4:4), here Salem likely refers to Jerusalem, the Jebusite city later conquered by David and established as Israel’s capital (2 Samuel 5:6-8).
brought out bread and wine, and being a priest of God Most High,
Melchizedek is unique as both king and priest — the first priest mentioned in the Bible.
The bread and wine may be simple sustenance, but given his priestly role, they also likely signify a cultic offering, possibly a thanksgiving sacrifice celebrating Abram’s victory.
he blessed Abram with these words: “Blessed be Abram by God Most High, the creator of heaven and earth; and blessed be God Most High, who delivered your foes into your hand.”
This blessing reveals that the true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, was worshipped at Salem, under the name of El-Elyón, or “God Most High.”
Abram receives this blessing as an acknowledgment that his triumph comes from God’s providence, not human strength.
Then Abram gave him a tenth of everything.
Abram’s giving of a tithe (a tenth) signifies reverence and submission. In the ancient world, tithes were offered both as tribute to rulers and as offerings to God. Abram, despite his power and victory, honors Melchizedek by giving the tithe, indicating Melchizedek’s superior, or divinely appointed, status.
The passage ends without further detail on the tithe or the fate of the bread and wine.
We read this passage on the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ because Melchizedek serves as a profound type of Christ. He foreshadows Jesus in two key ways: 1) as both king and priest, and 2) in offering bread and wine as a blessing.
Christ’s gift, of course, is his own Body and Blood, given for our salvation.
2nd Reading – 1 Corinthians 11:23-26
Brothers and sisters:
I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you,
that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over,
took bread, and, after he had given thanks,
broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you.
Do this in remembrance of me.”
In the same way also the cup, after supper, saying,
“This cup is the new covenant in my blood.
Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup,
you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.
Our second reading contains the words of consecration we hear at every Mass. This letter from Paul was written about eight years before the first gospel account, making this passage the oldest written account of the institution of the Eucharist.
Brothers and sisters: I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you,
The passage begins with Saint Paul affirming that what he is about to recount — the institution of the Eucharist — was received directly from the Lord and faithfully handed on.
The Greek terms paralambanō (“receive”) and paradidōmi (“hand on”) are technical language denoting the transmission of sacred tradition. This would have resonated with both Jewish and Greco-Roman audiences, who were accustomed to authoritative teachings being preserved and passed down orally.
Paul’s phrasing emphasizes that the Eucharist is not a teaching of human origin, but a divine tradition at the heart of Christian worship.
that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over,
The setting is the Last Supper on Holy Thursday, the night before Christ’s Passion. According to the synoptic gospels, this was a Passover celebration.
took bread, and, after he had given thanks, broke it
This follows the Passover meal structure, in which unleavened bread (matzah) is blessed and broken after prayers of thanksgiving (berakah).
The Greek word for “give thanks” is eucharisto.
and said, “This is my body that is for you.
Jesus is not simply a teacher or prophet; he is fully divine, the eternal Word made flesh. In Scripture, when God speaks, reality comes into being: “Let there be light,” and there was light. His word is creative, powerful, and effective.
In the same way, at the Last Supper, Jesus’ words do not simply symbolize a spiritual truth — they accomplish it.
A year previously, Jesus said: I am the living bread that comes down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I give for the life of the world (John 6:51).
Do this in remembrance of me.”
This command is not a simple instruction to recall this event, but a directive to enter into a sacred memorial, which in Hebrew is zikkaron and in New Testament Greek is called anámnēsis.
English lacks the terminology to fully capture this profound concept. Biblically, anámnēsis refers to a memorial that makes a person present at the original event. It is not mere remembrance but a living participation in a past reality.
Passover is itself an anámnēsis: Every time a Jewish person, even today, celebrates the Passover, they make themselves present at the original Passover in Egypt and are joined with all the participants of that original Passover meal.
In the same way, the Eucharist makes us present at Christ’s once-for-all sacrifice. The Mass does not repeat Christ’s eternal sacrifice, but re-presents it so that we may participate in it. Through this sacred memorial, we enter into the saving mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection here and now.
In the same way also the cup, after supper,
Jesus now takes the cup, likely the third cup of the Passover meal: the cup of blessing.
saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.
The prophet Jeremiah foretold this new covenant: Behold, the days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah (Jeremiah 31:31).
Here, Jesus fulfills this promise, establishing the New Covenant — not sealed with the blood of animals, as in the Old Testament sacrificial system, but with his own Precious Blood.
The prophetic vision of Jeremiah has been united with the covenantal rituals of Israel and reinterpreted and fulfilled in Christ.
This is the only time in the New Testament when Jesus uses the term “covenant,” revealing that this is not merely a meal, but a definitive act at the heart of God’s saving plan.
Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”
Again, Jesus commands the Church to perpetuate this memorial act. In doing so, the Eucharist becomes the ongoing means by which Christ’s redemptive sacrifice is made present to every generation.
We’ve heard the words of the Eucharist so often that we can easily take them for granted; imagine the amazement (if not the incredulity!) of the Apostles when they heard them for the first time.
For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the death of the Lord until he comes.
In each celebration of the Eucharist, the past (Christ’s Passion), the present (our participation), and the future (Christ’s return) are united.
Paul’s use of katangellete (“you proclaim”) implies more than verbal declaration; it is a liturgical celebration that manifests the power of Christ’s death in the lives of the faithful.
Each time we partake, we enter into Christ’s self-offering and are transformed by it.
Gospel – Luke 9:11-17
Jesus spoke to the crowds about the kingdom of God,
and he healed those who needed to be cured.
As the day was drawing to a close,
the Twelve approached him and said,
“Dismiss the crowd
so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms
and find lodging and provisions;
for we are in a deserted place here.”
He said to them, “Give them some food yourselves.”
They replied, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have,
unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people.”
Now the men there numbered about five thousand.
Then he said to his disciples,
“Have them sit down in groups of about fifty.”
They did so and made them all sit down.
Then taking the five loaves and the two fish,
and looking up to heaven,
he said the blessing over them, broke them,
and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd.
They all ate and were satisfied.
And when the leftover fragments were picked up,
they filled twelve wicker baskets.
Our gospel reading for today’s feast is the miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, a profound prefiguration of the Eucharist.
Jesus spoke to the crowds about the kingdom of God, and he healed those who needed to be cured.
This opening statement summarizes the ministry of Jesus: he proclaims the Kingdom of God and heals the afflicted. These twin actions — word and deed — attracted large crowds that thronged around him.
As the day was drawing to a close, the Twelve approached him and said, “Dismiss the crowd so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms and find lodging and provisions; for we are in a deserted place here.”
As the day ends, the disciples raise a practical concern: the crowd needs food and shelter.
Notice that the apostles are not asking Jesus to respond to this need, but to send them away.
He said to them, “Give them some food yourselves.”
Jesus’ reply with a call to action is striking.
It shifts the focus of the story from what Jesus can do to what the apostles are asked to do.
They replied, “Five loaves and two fish are all we have, unless we ourselves go and buy food for all these people.”
Their reply highlights the apparent inadequacy of their resources. Five loaves and two fish would barely suffice for the Twelve, let alone five thousand.
In Mark 6:37, their response is even more incredulous: “Are we to buy two hundred days’ wages worth of food?”
Now the men there numbered about five thousand. Then he said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty.” They did so and made them all sit down.
The apostles take on an essential role in mediating Jesus’ gift to the people.
They are actually the ones through whom the crowds experience the munificence of Jesus.
Then taking the five loaves and the two fish, and looking up to heaven, he said the blessing over them, broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd.
Here the Eucharistic overtones become unmistakable. Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and gives the bread — precisely the same four verbs used at the Last Supper (Luke 22:19) and in the Emmaus account (Luke 24:30). These actions are central to the celebration of the Eucharist and reveal a deep liturgical and theological connection. The miracle anticipates the sacramental meal in which Christ gives himself as true food.
This gesture also echoes the structure of a traditional Jewish meal. In the ancient Near East, loaves were typically thin and easily broken by hand, a task normally performed by the head of the household. Jesus assumes this role, following familiar ritual, but in doing so, he brings about a miraculous transformation.
Importantly, Jesus does not distribute the bread directly. Instead, he gives it to the apostles, who then give it to the people. This detail underscores the role of the apostles—and by extension, the ordained priesthood—in mediating Christ’s gift to the faithful. As in the Eucharist, it is through the hands of the Church that Christ feeds and sustains his people. This miracle, then, not only prefigures the Eucharist but also affirms the sacramental ministry by which his divine life is shared with the world.
They all ate and were satisfied.
The crowd does not react with awe; in fact, if you had been a member of the crowd, you would not have known that anything unusual had happened.
This underscores the quiet yet profound nature of the miracle: nourishment given in abundance, without spectacle.
And when the leftover fragments were picked up, they filled twelve wicker baskets.
What began as an impossibly small offering — five loaves and two fish —became more than enough to satisfy thousands, with twelve baskets left over.
This illustrates a central truth of the Eucharist: God transforms what we bring, however small, into overflowing grace. The Eucharist is not merely sufficient; it is superabundant.
The twelve baskets of leftovers symbolize both abundance and fullness — one for each apostle.
That this is the only miracle recorded in all four Gospels highlights the significance of its message: when we place what little we have in Christ’s hands, he multiplies it beyond measure.
Connections and Themes
The readings for today’s feast form a distinct theological arc: Melchizedek foreshadows the Eucharist, Saint Paul testifies to its institution, and Jesus demonstrates its generous abundance.
Real participation. Saint Paul’s words in today’s second reading are the same words the Church has prayed at every Mass for centuries. Yet they signify far more than a symbolic memorial. The “remembrance” (anámnēsis) Paul speaks of is a liturgical reality: a true participation in the one, eternal sacrifice of Christ.
In every celebration of the Eucharist, we are not merely recalling the events of the Last Supper. We are drawn into the very mystery of the Cross. Christ’s body is given, his blood poured out, and his victory over sin and death is offered once more to the Father, made present to us in sacramental form.
This sacrifice is not a spectacle to observe but a mystery to enter. As Saint Thomas Aquinas taught, God’s ultimate purpose of the Eucharist isn’t the transformation of bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood, but the transformation of us into his presence in the world. To receive the Body of Christ is also to recognize and revere the Body of Christ in our neighbor. We cannot share fruitfully in the first if we remain blind to the second.
Fulfillment of our deepest hunger. The mystery of the Eucharist is also the mystery of human longing. When we think of hunger, we think of the hunger for food, but we actually hunger for many things: peace, justice, love, friendship, to be understood. Beneath all these is a deeper yearning: the hunger for spiritual nourishment — the greatest hunger of all.
When the crowd in today’s gospel reading followed Jesus into the wilderness, they were hungry: first for his words, then for food. Jesus met both needs, multiplying loaves and fish until every person was satisfied. Yet, as with every miracle, the abundance he provides is not an end in itself — it points to something greater.
Just as God once gave manna to the Israelites in the desert, and just as Jesus fed the five thousand, so God continues to feed his people with the true bread from heaven: Christ himself in the Eucharist. In offering us his very Body and Blood, Jesus satisfies the most profound hunger of the human heart — the longing to be filled with divine life, to be united with God.
And yet, even this gift is not the final destination. The Eucharist is both food for the journey and a glimpse of the feast to come. It is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, where every desire will be fulfilled and every tear wiped away. On this solemn feast, we remember not only that we are fed, but that we are being led home.
The center of Christian life. Our first reading from Genesis introduces us to Melchizedek, the mysterious priest-king of Salem who blesses Abram and offers a sacrifice, not of animals, but of bread and wine. Unlike the Levitical priesthood descended from Aaron, Moses’ brother, Melchizedek represents a different, more ancient priestly line. As we hear in the responsorial (Psalm 110): “You are a priest forever, in the line of Melchizedek.” This points us to a priesthood not grounded in temple ritual, but in a deeper, eternal offering — one that finds its fulfillment in Christ, the true and everlasting High Priest.
Melchizedek’s offering foreshadows the Eucharist, the meal at the heart of Christian life. From the Upper Room to today’s altar, this sacrifice of bread and wine has remained the Church’s central act of worship, celebrated in every century, on every continent, and among every people.
In moments of joy and sorrow, in grandeur and in hidden simplicity, the Eucharist has marked life’s most sacred occasions. It has been offered for prisoners and kings, for the dying and the newly married, for those about to set out on a journey, and for those preparing to meet God. Wherever the Church has gone, the Eucharist has gone with her.
Why? Because the Eucharist is more than ritual—it is relationship. It is the place where we encounter the risen Christ, where we are united with the Church across time and space, where saints and sinners alike are drawn into one Body. In every age, the Eucharist has been our anchor, our hope, and our mission. It is Christ with us, always.
Sunday Readings 