Corpus Christi (Year C)Fr. Bertrand Hebert, O.P.June 22, 2025
First Mass of Thanksgiving St. Michael’s (Crowley)
Things Are Not What They Appear to Be
We are gathered here today because of a particular man. He’s someone whom many here know
very well, but whom others have maybe only spoken to in passing. He’s someone whom many of you
see often enough, but also someone whom you maybe haven’t seen for quite some time. And that
person, that man, is Jesus Christ. In this Mass, all of you see another man—me, Fr. Bertrand—as I
offer thanks to God for the gift of the priesthood. But things are not what they appear to be, because it
is really Christ who brings us together. And that is such an appropriate lesson for us to remember on
this Sunday, as we celebrate Corpus Christi: the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ.
On the night of the Last Supper, things were not what they appeared to be. It seemed like a big
meal, a celebration. But the Lord’s Passion and death were on the horizon, and he knew it. Christ was
also surrounded by men he considered his friends. But beneath the surface there were traitors. Judas
would hand Christ over to be killed, and even Peter would deny Jesus three times. But on that night,
when things were not what they appeared to be, the Lord gave us two of the most important parts of
our faith: the Eucharist and the priesthood. And even these two things are not what they appear to be.
Because they’re so much more.
When Jesus gave us the Eucharist at the Last Supper, he offered up what seemed like bread and
wine. But it was truly his own Body and Blood. Christ told the apostles at the Last Supper: “This is my
body,” and “This is the chalice of my blood.” And when he said those words, he meant it. He didn’t
say, “This is like my body and blood” or “This appears to be my body and blood.” No. He said, “This
is my body. This is my blood.” We hear those same words at every Mass. You’ll hear them today, and
they’re still true today. When the priest consecrates the bread and wine to become the Body and Blood
of Christ, things are not what they appear to be. God changes bread and wine before our very eyes into
the Eucharist, into his own Body and Blood. But he doesn’t stop there either. He then gives it to us; he
gives himself to us. And when we receive him in Communion, when we say “Amen,” we are saying:
“Yes, I believe that things are not what they appear to be. Because I believe this is not just ordinary
food. This is my friend. This is my God who loves me more than I can imagine.”
Christ did this for us at the Last Supper, and this is what the Church celebrates today on this
Sunday. But that’s not the only thing Christ did at the Last Supper. He gave us another gift: the
priesthood. He transformed the apostles—twelve ordinary men—into priests. They were fishermen
and tax collectors. They were poor and often confused. But the power of Christ touched each of them
in a marvelous way, and they were never the same again. They appeared to be the same. But they were
not what they appeared to be. In a way, they were no longer themselves. They were transformed into
Christ. They were transformed into priests who would continue making Christ present in the world,
even when he appears to be absent.
And on June 5, a little over two weeks ago, Jesus Christ did the same thing to me and six other
Dominican friars in Washington, DC. On the outside, we look the same. I’m still the same man whom
many of you know (but with significantly less hair). I am that little boy who grew up in this parish and
who went to St. Michael’s school next door and across town, and the young man who graduated from
Notre Dame. I am the former classmate and the former student of some of you in the pews today. I am
the man who went to the seminary after high school, where I met some of the priests and seminarians
who are here with us today. I am the man who later became a Dominican friar, serving God and the
Church in a new way.
These are all the things that some of you know and that you can see. But things are not what
they appear to be. Because what you don’t see, and what I don’t even completely see, is that Christ has
claimed me as his own in a radical way. Everything that a priest does is not just him doing it by himself.
It is Christ doing it in and through the priest. As St. Paul said, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ
who lives in me.” It’s as if the priest can no longer say, “I am doing this,” but instead, “We are doing
this, Christ and I.” And even then, things are still not what they appear to be. Because Christ did not
make me a priest just for my sake. Christ made me a priest for each of you. Like Christ changes bread
and wine into his body and blood, Christ changes a man into a priest, into a father—to be a father for
you.
Things are not what they appear to be. But thanks be to God that’s the case. God isn’t trying
to deceive us or trick us. Instead, these things tell us that God is much closer to us than we realize,
much closer than he appears. And he comes to us, he comes to you, today in the Eucharist and in this
gift of the priesthood that we celebrate. We praise God today and always for what he has given us. We
praise him for the fact these gifts are so much more than they appear to be. Because that means that
God has so much more in store for us.
