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The celebration of Corpus Christi in the little Slovenian parish of my youth was a big deal. A Solemn High Mass followed by a procession through the streets with the Blessed Sacrament made for a celebration that rivaled Christmas and Easter. That little St. Lawrence Church on the southeast side of Cleveland had always been in love with Corpus Christi – the feast and the Sacrament.This weekend the dwindling remnant of that 108 year-old community will celebrate this feast with less splendor than in years past, but with no less devotion, because it will be the last. The church will close on June 20. What made this feast so important to this parish all these years? I can’t be certain that the parishioners, past or present, have always understood the mystery of the Eucharist. I am sure they believed that the Eucharistic bread was the Body of Christ, but they would probably explain that mystery with a simple, “because that’s what it is.” For them it was a matter of faith, a faith that led them to make such a public witness of the Eucharist’s importance in their lives.The men in the parish would construct four chapels, each facing a different direction, along the several-block procession route. The women would decorate the chapels with silks and satins, greens and flowers. At each of these a Gospel would be proclaimed followed by a Eucharistic blessing. Along the procession route people would white-wash the tree trunks and curbs. Nearly every household prepared little shrines on their front steps honoring their favorite saint or image of Christ or the Virgin Mary.With this they witnessed the importance of the Eucharist in their lives. It led many, like me, to treasure the Eucharist and to find ways to make its meaning go beyond an annual celebration. The transformation of that neighborhood for that one big day led to an understanding that transformation is what the Eucharist is all about. The prayer of the people offered by the priest at the Mass transforms bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Jesus as a memorial of his death and resurrection. But each one of us is transformed by that action as well. We do, in fact, become the Body of Christ we receive. We become his presence in the world we live in today. From something ordinary comes something extraordinary. From simple bread and wine come the Body and Blood of the Christ. From something as ordinary as you and me comes something so unique, so special that we find it hard to define. We call it what it is, being Christ-bearers, “Christians,” though that seems too commonplace for such an overwhelming transformation.But regardless of the name, its impact has the potential to be as powerful as the transformation itself. We, as the Body of Christ in the world today, have the same powers he had when he walked this earth. We have the power to heal, to mend the broken, to lift up the fallen. Throughout his ministry Jesus gave evidence of entering into the pain of the suffering. That same divine instinct is now in us. We can see through the eyes of Jesus with the same compassion for the weak, the alienated, the lonely.The Eucharist nourishes our discipleship, for we have the same power of forgiveness that Jesus witnessed throughout his mission among us. He would never condemn the sinner. Recalling that in Jesus’ time catastrophic illness was considered the result of sin, all those healing stories in the Gospels are really about forgiveness–and without judgment. If we are his Body in the world today, we are empowered through the Eucharist to forgive as readily as he did.What motivated his willingness to heal and to forgive was his unconditional love that was so strong that freely giving his life was not something above and beyond his calling, but essential to it. He never refused his love to anyone. Prostitutes, tax collectors (basically traitors to their people) and sinners were his choice dinner companions. Simple fishermen and women of all walks of life were his dearest friends. He was wholly inclusive. He knew how to love unconditionally. That same gift is offered to us when we become his presence in the world through the Eucharist.Though we often miss the impact of our Eucharistic liturgies, that’s what they are all about. That’s what Corpus Christi was all about for us in the neighborhood known as Newburgh. Corpus Christi IS the Body of Christ. Corpus Christi IS you and me. Or as St. Theresa of Avila is said to have reflected:Christ has no body now but yours.No hands, no feet on earth but yours.Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world.Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good.Yours are the hand with which he blesses all the world.Christ has no body now on earth but yours.