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“For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” So they said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” (John 6:34-36) We hunger and thirst. This is true of all people, through all time. We need to be nourished: physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. Sometimes we are keenly aware of our hunger. We may even know what we need to satisfy it – a meal, a conversation with a friend, a good book, or a moment in prayer. Other times we experience the ache of hunger, but can not necessarily name it as such, let alone pinpoint what it is we need. Underlying all of our earthly hungers is our deep longing for God. Ultimately it is God alone who can satisfy our hunger. The feast of Corpus Christi, or the Solemnity of the Most Precious Body and Blood of Jesus, is a celebration of our hunger being met. In the Eucharist, Jesus meets us intimately and personally. He gives his body, his very self, so that we might be close to him and be satisfied in him. And this total and complete giving is for us, for our strengthening and our sanctification. However, at times our experience of Jesus in the Eucharist can seem to fall short of this. We struggle to comprehend what it means that he is truly present in the Eucharistic elements–Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. We forget that Jesus is the Bread of Life and really can satisfy us. We may miss the graces he is pouring out on us through his presence in the Eucharist. Whatever your experiences with the Eucharist may be, there are some practical ways we can continue to know and grow closer to Jesus in the Eucharist. Ask the Lord for Greater Eucharistic Faith and Devotion. While belief is a grace and gift of the Holy Spirit, “it is no less true that believing is an authentically human act.” (CCC 154) It is a profound act of faith simply to ask the Lord for a deeper devotion to the Eucharist. We can ask him to help us trust in his presence and to become more aware of his nourishing grace in the Eucharist. This humble disposition can help us be more receptive to the graces the Lord is pouring out on us when we receive the Blessed Sacrament at Mass and in the power of the Eucharist. Pray to Be Changed by the Eucharist. When we respond “Amen” before receiving the Body and Blood of Christ at Mass we are saying, “Yes, I believe this is truly Jesus’ body and blood.” Still, it can be easy to take this for granted or forget about the graces bestowed on us through the sacrament. You may consider offering a prayer before or after receiving Communion in which you call to mind the power in receiving Jesus’ presence sacramentally through the Eucharist. One of my favorite prayers to offer during this time is a private prayer the priest says before receiving the Eucharist himself. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, who, by the will of the Father and the work of the Holy Spirit, through your Death gave life to the world, free me by this, your most holy Body and Blood, from all my sins and from every evil; keep me always faithful to your commandments, and never let me be parted from you. (Roman Missal, Order of Mass, 131) Spend Time With the Lord in Eucharistic Adoration. Eucharistic adoration gives us a time to sit and be with Jesus. You can take time to exalt and adore him, or just speak with him from your heart. Spending time in quiet prayer can be difficult, but the Lord surely blesses the time we spend with him. I think this is summed up well in the book In Senu Jesu, When Heart Speaks to Heart: The Journal of a Priest at Prayer by A Benedictine Monk, which records words spoken by Jesus and Mary to an Irish Benedictine monk, when Jesus says, “This is what I want of you: time “wasted,” spent in My presence. Time given to Me for My sake.” Even just sitting in Jesus’ Eucharistic presence satisfies some of our longing for him. On this feast of Corpus Christi, let us return to the heart of our faith, which is Jesus’ own self given for us. Whether you are feeling far from or near to the Eucharist, let us reaffirm our plea, “Jesus, give us this bread always,” that we may always be satisfied through, with, and in Jesus. AuthorErin Donn is a campus minister at an all-girls Catholic high school and lives in Washington, DC.
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 What does it mean to be called to revive? It means reviving faith! In a world where so many look away from faith and into trust of many things other than God, it means making God the center of our lives through our way of thinking and our actions. It means looking beyond self and seeing our neighbor as one in the image and likeness of God, even when that may be difficult or painful to do. It means believing, even when life becomes difficult and crosses are many. It means living the virtue of hope. Pope Leo XIV when he addressed young people of Chicago and the whole world put it this way: “So many people who suffer from different experiences of depression or sadness - they can discover that the love of God is truly healing, that it brings hope, and that actually, coming together as friends, as brothers and sisters, in community, in a parish, in an experience of living our faith together, we can find that the Lord’s grace, that the love of God can truly heal us, can give us the strength that we need, can be the source of that hope that we all need in our lives. To share that message of hope with one another - in outreach, in service, in looking for ways to make our world a better place - gives true life to all of us, and is a sign of hope for the whole world” (Video Message, June 14, 2025). When we live faith, and, more so, live together in a true community of faith, then we can be more fully present to one another in the sorrows and failures, joys and successes of life. Together we can move forward in revived faith that witnesses hope, and lives in love. May the charity of Christ urge us on! In God, the Infinite Love, Fr. Frank
 I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. (Jeremiah 31:33) When you hear the word “law,” what comes to mind? I think of traffic laws. In Washington, DC, where I live, the city installed cameras to catch people running red lights. Then came the speeding tickets. Recently, they added cameras to stop signs. These traffic laws - created by our city leaders - are much different than the law of God written on our hearts. The Catholic teaching on conscience helps us understand where law is, how we access it, and what we do with it. “Conscience includes the perception of the principles of morality (synderesis)” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1780). The Catechism also teaches that conscience “is a judgement of reason.” (1778) Consequently, we are dealing with reason, perception, and “principles of morality,” when we exercise our conscience. Saint Thomas Aquinas taught that God’s law, what he called first principles, “were naturally known.” (Summa Theologica, Pt 1, Q 79, Article 12). As Jeremiah proclaimed, God’s law is written on our hearts. This law always leads towards the good. Some examples of God’s law would be “do good and avoid evil,” “I put before you life and death. Choose life,” and “no man is an island.” Human beings can see these moral laws as long as there is nothing wrong with their power of perception. When we look for God’s law, these first principles of the moral life, we are forming a natural habit, what Saint Thomas Aquinas called “synderesis.” The exercise of conscience, then, uses our power of reason to apply these first principles to a moral act - one we have done, are doing, or will do in the future. In our society, law is often utilitarian and conventional. Here in the United States of America, we drive on the right side of the road. In other countries, like England, they drive on the left. That is a convention. Traffic laws are used to regulate the flow of traffic - to assure the safety, and freedom - of all. But those laws - while prudent to follow - are not absolute. While I may get a speeding ticket for running a red light in the middle of the night when I took my son to the emergency room due to abdominal pain, I have not sinned. When, on the other hand, I choose my recreation over the needs of my family, I may have broken no law but may have committed a very serious - perhaps even a grave - sin. Thomas Aquinas provides a hierarchy of law beginning with Eternal Law, Natural Law, Human Law, and Divine Law. Eternal Law is only known to God but is the basis for Natural Law. From Natural Law, human beings create law for human flourishing and the common good. Divine Law are teachings and commandments God reveals through salvation history. Aquinas teaches that all human beings can understand “do good and avoid evil” since it is a moral axiom of natural law whereas the commandment to “love one another as I have loved you” is revealed by Jesus at the Last Supper. Which takes us back to our traffic laws. When we are exercising our conscience, we must turn toward the first principles that are already written on our hearts rather than the “law of the land.” There is not a moral equivalency between “do good and avoid evil” and breaking a human law. Indeed, some human laws must be broken because they are morally corrupt. Law in our country seems to be losing its moral footing. One political party creates a law that is then replaced by another political party. In so many cases, we are over regulated in our country and, in others, we are under regulated. As Catholics and Christians, we must sort through “the law of the land” and judge our compliance by the dictates of our conscience. C.S. Lewis, in one of his philosophical texts, The Abolition of Man, argues for an innate moral code that we, as a society, must teach our children to see how we misuse words to reduce our experiences to trivialities. In that text, he attempts to demonstrate how recognition and value of “first principles” are manifested in other cultures and religious traditions. Our Jewish ancestors also held to first principles and stressed the relational nature of law. Complying with law was not just a transactional relationship between the ruler and the subject; it was a way to build and enhance community. God wants our human flourishing. God has written on our hearts his moral law and has given us the power to see it, hear his voice, improve our reception of both, and to apply it to common and complicated moral challenges.
 They bought into the lie—that nothing had changed, that their dreams were stifled, that death prevailed. The locked doors reflected their locked hearts. Like anyone, they were afraid, inconsolable, at the point of despair. Save one—a virgin. She continues to model to us today what it means to live faith, what it looks like to be a disciple. The fear of the disciples in the upper room is understandable. They had abandoned the man whom they had left everything to follow for three years. The same man they had pledged to follow unto death had been tortured and killed as their backs were turned, as they cowered for their own lives. Their hopes of a restored Jewish kingdom, a glorious king from the line of David, freedom from Roman rule and the return of God’s presence to the Temple seemed to be nailed to a cross on Golgotha, laid in a tomb hewn from rock. They had yet to see God’s plan amidst the perceived failure. How could this be God’s plan? It was so unlike their own. Their fear is our own. It is the fear of unmet desires, of unworthiness, of death, of uncertainty, of perceived silence. Like the disciples, we often fail to see God’s plan in our lives. We look around in despair and sense that He is silent. We live the reality of death, confusion and suffering and say, “nothing good can come from this.” But as the disciples quickly realized, our ways are not God’s ways. Our wills are not yet one. Much stands in the way: selfishness, greed, egoism, materialism, pride. All changes with the coming of the Holy Spirit. What makes a law-abiding Jew abandon his persecution of Christians in favor of joining them and proclaiming the Christ to Jerusalem and Rome? What makes uneducated fisherman leaders of the universal Church and martyrs for the faith? What makes the son of a wealthy Italian merchant the begging founder of a religious order and a friend of the poor? What makes a cloistered nun in Lisieux a Doctor of the Church? What makes a German priest in Auschwitz volunteer to die in place of a father? What makes a modern day Italian mother and doctor offer her life for that of her child? The Advocate, the Holy Spirit. It is the Holy Spirit who is the game changer for the Church—what will now set the disciples apart from the whole world and what continues to set Christians apart today. The Holy Spirit is the active agent of conversion in man, the third person of the Trinity who opens up the Scriptures and sets our hearts on fire. It is the Holy Spirit who enables us to live our mission. The Holy Spirit, God’s love, is the difference between the fearful men in the upper room and the on-fire disciples of Christ preaching the Gospel and converting thousands in a single day. In the Gospel today, Jesus prays for his followers in the Garden of Gethsemane while also speaking directly to you and me. He prays for something seemingly impossible: “that they may all be one” as the Trinity is one. Christ speaks these words not to frustrate his followers but to call them to a perfection possible through God alone. He utters these precious words knowing he will be sending the Holy Spirit to enable man to do this. The goal is outward. This communion—the call to unity—must lead to mission: “that the world may know that you sent me and that you loved them.” God’s love is efficacious. It cannot be contained but must be proclaimed to the world. Only God could deign to give man so dignified and impossible a call. And only God could enable man to fulfill it. This high priestly prayer of Jesus (which encompasses John 15-17) is one of my favorite parts of Scripture. It is so imbued with Christ’s love for us. The purpose of the Incarnation is about to be revealed. Christ is living his last moments and wants to remind his followers, you and me, why he came: to reveal the Father, to invite man to eternity with Him and to assure man of his lovable-ness in the eyes of God. This love of God is meant to abide in us and reach out from our hearts to the hearts of others. This is only possible through the Eucharist, which physically is Christ’s love present in us and which is made possible through the Holy Spirit. God himself calls us, but God himself equips us…with Himself. It is astounding to what we are called: to holiness, divine love. This is the Christian destiny, but not our inclination. Like the disciples, so quickly do we turn inward. So quickly do we lock the door in fear. God calls us to sanctity, which can only be achieved after an experience of the fire of God’s love. We call this Pentecost, the same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive in Baptism and Confirmation. The same outpouring of the Holy Spirit that we receive every Sunday in the form of the Eucharist. Are we being transformed by this grace or do we remain in the upper room? I challenge you to go back to your own story, your own moments of conversion. When did you fall in love with God? Have you? Only armed with the certainty of being loved will we be able to love others and live out the communion and mission Jesus calls us to. And so we call upon the Holy Spirit, the love of God Himself, who was breathed out upon the disciples at Pentecost in tongues of fire. We ask the Holy Spirit to breathe new life within us, within the Church. We ask the Holy Spirit to transform us with the fire of God’s love. This results in unlocked doors, an empty room. The disciples emerged, transfigured. Will you? *This post was originally published May 21, 2015* AuthorKate Flannery has a Master's degree in Leadership for the New Evangelization at the Augustine Institute in Denver.
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