Do THIS In Memory of Me

"And when He had given thanks, He broke it and said, 

'This is My body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of Me.'"

- 1 Corinthians 11:24

Jesus and John, the Beloved Disciple at the Last Supper

    Last week in my Sacraments class, we began our discussion on the Sacrament of Eucharist. May 6th, 2000 at St. Thomas Aquinas Parish in Croydon, PA at 11:00 AM on a Saturday, I made my First Communion. I was wearing a beautiful white dress that I had worn a few months prior at my Uncle Charles and Aunt Maryanne's Wedding as their flower girl. I had annoying, lace, ankle socks and an obnoxious headband from which extended my veil. I couldn't wait to get the outfit off and run around in the mud with my cousins at my family party later that afternoon. However, at the moment right before Communion, I suddenly got the jitters; I was so nervous. This was the moment that would change my life forever. As I received the Eucharist on my tongue for the very first time, I instantly felt like Jesus, Himself, was hugging me so tightly to Himself that I became one with Him. Littler did I know that my Theology was kind of right. At Eucharist, Jesus' body becomes one with our body and soul. The image of hugging Jesus at Communion has always stayed with me.

     In class, we watched a video on Eucharist with a song playing in the background. Despite being such a musical learner, I have no idea what the song was or what it was about. I was captured by the video of a few actors acting as Jesus and the Apostles at the Last Supper. I was so struck by the continuous action between Jesus and John, the beloved disciple. During the video, John had his head resting on the shoulder of Jesus while Jesus went about the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. John never once lifted his head off Jesus' shoulder. I was so moved by it and then suddenly, I started laughing. 

     The weekend before, while in Minnesota, I confessed my need for napping to Sister Angela. I say to people that I am a serious napper. No one actually believes me until they see what happens when Becca doesn't get her nap. Sister Angela thought I was just kidding, but as we were sitting in the MSP airport waiting for the plane back to Chicago, I was sitting in the chair when suddenly my head dropped. Her gentle nunny hand picked up my chin and pushed my head gently to her shoulder. I snuggled there, sleeping, until they called for us to board the plane. Ironically enough, I fell asleep on the plane and the same thing happened. 

      As I watched the video in class, I couldn't help but remember the gentle simplicity of being able to sleep on another's shoulder. Even deeper than that is when one can cry on another's shoulder. Something I also spontaneously did to Sister Angela when we had to say goodbye. Poor girl. Just as Sister Angela did for me, Jesus did for John. He comforted him in the eventual separation of life and death. He comforted his tears when Jesus said his last words. It was beautiful. But what struck me the most, after all of this was the words "Do this in memory of me?" What exactly did Jesus mean? What is the "this" to which he is referring? Suddenly, my mind was spinning. I just needed to put it in words!

     First, Jesus is allowing beloved John to snuggle up to Him at a time when Jesus is already suffering His eventual arrest and death. Jesus, while feeling so sad within His own heart, is not only breaking the bread for those around Him but also letting John use His shoulder for comfort. John most likely was feeling pain and sadness, too, and so Jesus allowed John to seek comfort during His own suffering. He sacrificed His own feelings so that John could be comforted.
     Even deeper than that is what Jesus was doing at the Last Supper. He was giving up Himself for the sake of others' salvation. "Do THIS is memory of me," He says. Do THIS...the THIS meaning the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. However, in John 6, Jesus says this, "I am the BREAD of HEAVEN." He is demonstrating the breaking of the bread, the breaking of Himself and the sharing of His blood in the cup. "Do THIS," He says. On the surface He means, do this, do this breaking of the bread, in memory of me. We celebrate the Last Supper every time we celebrate the Eucharist. Deep right? Well, it goes even deeper.
     The THIS Jesus is doing is the THIS of the breaking of His body, His offering up of Himself. He asks each of us to do the THIS He does; to offer ourselves for the greater good of the Kingdom of God. He may not be asking us to be martyrs for the faith as He was, but He is asking us to sacrifice for others that which we hold most dear. Every time we hear these words, we are called by JESUS HIMSELF to do the THIS He did, in memory of Him. We are called to sacrifice for others, to give to others as He gave to the apostles, as He gave to John. True sacrifice is giving all out of love. Jesus gave up His own emotional state to comfort John and the apostles both at the Last Supper and in the Garden. Jesus gave up His own body to be broken just like the bread at the Last Supper, on Good Friday. Jesus gave up His life for us. That is the THIS in "do THIS in memory of me."
      How perfect that I came to this realization of the THIS I need to do during Lent, a time of true sacrifice of self for others. Once again, I've fallen in love with the Eucharist and all it means for me. I am continuously developing a deeper devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, a devotion that has been with me all my life (Thanks, Sisters of the Blessed Sacrament). I am always growing more and more in love with the REAL PRESENCE of Jesus in the Eucharist and all His beautiful words to me through the Mass and through Scripture. Now, every time I hear these words: "Do THIS in memory of me," I will remember truly what Jesus is asking of me. I must be the crying shoulder, I must be the comfort in the suffering, I must give of myself. Of course, I must also be grateful to those who have comforted me, who have given of themselves to help me, and who have given me a shoulder upon which I can rest and cry. There are many Jesus' to my John in the sense of literary metaphors.