By Fr. Glenn Jones:

This last Saturday—annually on June 21—the Catholic Church celebrates the memorial of St. Aloysius (pronounced “al-oh-IH-shus”) Gonzaga, a remarkable young Italian aristocrat of the latter 1500s who surrendered his lineage and inheritance to join the Jesuit religious order for the service of God and his fellow Man. Aloysius died at the young age of 23 after contracting the plague while serving plague victims. Even though he knew death was imminent, he refused to rest until he could physically work no more, and nearing his end wrote to his mother: “In return for my short and feeble labors, God is calling me to eternal rest; his voice from heaven invites me to the infinite bliss I have sought so languidly, and promise me this reward for the tears I have so seldom shed …” ending with “I write all this with the one desire … you especially may speed with a mother’s blessing my passage across the waters till I reach the shore to which all hopes belong.” Humble to the last … a loving son to the last … marveling at the great salvation won for us by Christ, he poured himself out totally for others until there was nothing left to give.  

All throughout the history of the faith we see such selfless persons, all imitating Jesus who was their model, example and Lord. We might think of St. Francis of Assisi who gave up a playboy lifestyle and considerable inheritance to live in poverty and help others. Or Damian of Molokai, the priest who lived island exile to minister to the lepers housed there, finally contracting and dying of leprosy himself. Or of Maximillian Kolbe who volunteered to be executed in place of a condemned family man in Auschwitz. Or Elizabeth of Hungary, the royal princess who gave up her entire fortune to assist the poor and the sick. So many more, not even to mention those who even now keep us safe, fight fires, ensure our freedoms—lives risked for us daily.

But all of them … even collectively … are eclipsed by the work of Jesus for all Mankind.

Now this weekend (June 22 this year) we Catholics celebrate the great solemnity of Corpus Christi—the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ, which we believe become a reality from the bread and wine at each Mass in accordance with His Words at the Last Supper with His apostles, just prior to His arrest and crucifixion (paraphrasing): “Take and eat, this is my Body. Take and drink, this is my Blood”. All Christians believed this for 1500 years until the Reformation when many—aided by the printing press—began to posit their own theories, claiming rather that the weekly celebration in memory of the Last Supper was simply an expression of fellowship—a community meal. But Catholics and Eastern Orthodox (and some others to varying degrees) hold to the literal words of Jesus, relying primarily on the Last Supper narratives in the Gospels, John 6 and 1 Corinthians 10 and 11, as well as the beliefs of the very early Church.

But this is not to debate that theology here; for more info on it, see the Catholic Catechism or the short but good and very readable “The Jewish Roots of the Eucharist” by Brant Pitre. What is the focus today are Jesus’ Words at the Last Supper in His declaration repeated at each Catholic Mass: “This is the chalice of my blood. The blood … which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sin.”.

Such a powerful and magnificent declaration. And then manifesting its truth, Jesus soon after does pour out His blood in the scourging, the crowning of thorns, and His crucifixion for the forgiveness of sins. Now, even a non-believer who believes Jesus simply a man can at least be awed at the willingness with which He voluntarily gave up His life for his belief of saving others. How much more so, O Christian, should WE stand in awe of His divine sacrifice in the pure love of God for all Mankind? 

But let us not pause in our wonder quite yet. “I give myself that YOU may be forgiven,” is what Jesus essentially declares at the Last Supper. And so, I often find myself musing, if Jesus—the Divine One—gave Himself so freely for our forgiveness, what forgiveness should we withhold from others for the relative pinpricks we suffer here in this life? After all, Jesus DID teach us to pray to the Father: “Forgive us our sins, AS WE FORGIVE those who sin against us.” (Matthew 6). And also, His parable of the obligation of forgiveness in Matthew 18 (your homework for today! 🙂 ) And then, Jesus’ admonition to forgive, not seven but seventy-seven times (Matthew 18:22)—not a literal number but rather meaning to forgive without limit.

Now, in the news we often hear at protests: “No Justice, No Peace!” But perhaps even more essential would be “No Forgiveness, No Peace!”. Without forgiveness society would become a perpetual cycle of vendetta for offenses both real and imagined. And not only can there be no societal peace without forgiveness, but neither personal peace—the obsession to “get even” poisoning one’s soul and life.

St. Aloysius gave of himself totally in attending plague victims, but envy and hatred are an infinitely worse plague upon humanity. Viral or bacterial sickness only destroys the body; hatred and resentment destroy the soul—eternally if we don’t at least try to forgive. God does not—would not—ask the impossible of us, and to love (and thus to forgive) is not just in the emotions, but in a person’s will. We may not be able to erase offenses from memory, but within each of us, for the sake of love of God and neighbor, is that capacity to forgive.

“… as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do.” (Colossians 3:13)

Editor’s note: Rev. Glenn Jones is the Vicar General of the Archdiocese of Santa Fe and former pastor of Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic Church in Los Alamos.