Eucharist and Suffering

“...Burnt offering from me you would refuse, my sacrifice, a contrite spirit, a humbled, contrite heart you will not spurn. .” Psalm 51

I'll open with a few words from the combox (but too good to be kept there):
from Gabrielle:
Just as God is hidden from us, the way in which we "take the Eucharist to the streets" can be hidden; just as Christ makes His ceaseless sacrifice, there are those who also make a ceaseless sacrifice in unity with Him, but it is not "out there" for all the world to see. Even their exterior works, done with compassion and with the desire to live the gospel, are performed quietly, and often anonymously.

from Carol:
…yes, some live as Eucharist in a very different way. To me, those feed the best. Those who are eucharistic via imbibing and consuming Him, first.

We might even argue that the “hidden holocausts” are the cleanest, as they are untainted – the agonies we hold in our hearts are known only to Him, offered for love of Him alone, as we gain nothing from others by them.

I have been thinking about suffering a lot lately, and keep coming up against this inescapable conclusion:

to live and to love in this life is to suffer.

I could go on and on (as you all well know) and discuss the whats and whys of suffering (maybe we’ll do that later) but I want to jump ahead to make the connection between suffering and the Eucharist.

On one level, this connection is obvious: if the Eucharist is the “clean oblation” of the Cross, then the suffering dimension is clear. But how do our very personal sufferings fit in?

In order to grasp this fully (we all “get it” on a basic level, but in order to “live the Eucharist” we need to understand it experientially) we need to contemplate our own capacity for “redemptive suffering” and the invitation extended by Christ to each of us to participate in His Sacrifice.

Suffering helps the sufferer, suffering opens up avenues of grace and allows God to reach in and work miracles, and our own suffering can also help others. They may be inspired by our faith, fortitude, perseverance; they are given an opportunity to give of themselves for our sake, like Simon and the Good Samaritan; and, at the highest level, we can participate in the very Redemption itself by immolating ourselves for others.

There is the penance aspect of this, yes – we “make reparation” for our sins and the sins of others by "making sacrifices" – but if we don’t move beyond that to LOVE, we’ve missed the point and fallen into a morose rigidity that falls short of the Spirit of Christ. One who is stoically “offering it up” and seeing this as a kind of business transaction (an exchange of suffering for punishment of sins) can hardly join with St. Paul in exclaiming, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake…” (Colossians)

This joy, John Paul II tells us, “comes from the discovery of the meaning of suffering.” (Salvifici Doloris) This meaning is manifold, and we could compose volumes discussing it. But at the core is the truth that “We are always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.” (II Cor)

We have the almost unbelievable privilege of participating in the Redemption itself, of joining ourselves to the One Sacrifice of Christ, because He lives in us and we in Him. When nailed to the Cross, Christ offered Himself to the Eternal Father as Head of the whole human race, of the Mystical Body; in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, He offers to the Father not only Himself as Head of the Church, but all His members also, since we are united with Him and He holds each of us in His Heart. We are all included in that offering, and it is at Mass, in union with the Mass, that we offer all that we have to offer. We actually insert our sufferings into His, to “complete what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ,” not because the Redemption is incomplete, but because the Redemption remains open always to all love expressed in human suffering.
“In this dimension – the dimension of love – the Redemption which has already been completely accomplished is, in a certain sense, constantly being accomplished….Yes, it seems to be part of the very essence of Christ’s redemptive suffering that this suffering requires to be unceasingly completed.” (Salvifici Doloris)

It is “unceasingly completed” by those willing to love to the point of suffering, who are willing to suffer and become “hidden holocausts” of love.

And everything is offered to the Father only through Christ: “through Him, with Him, in Him, in the unity of the Holy Spirit.” There is no other way to the Father but through Him. There is only One Sacrifice, in which we may participate, and through which we make our own offering.

If we "present our bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is our spiritual worship," (Romans) then we are presenting our bodies to be gradually crucified, in union with Christ. And it is through this death to self that we live in Christ and Christ in us: "I have been crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me." (Galatians) We are united to Christ through the Cross which we embrace with love.

That little drop of water that the priest pours into the chalice of wine is like our little ordinary offerings, which are completely absorbed into the Blood of Christ and transformed. Just as at Cana Christ took something very ordinary (water) and transformed it into something beyond our capacity (the "best wine") because it was brought in simplicity and His word was obeyed, so our own very ordinary offerings are transformed within the Chalice of His Heart by His immense Love and become something worthy of the Father.