Last Supper Lesson: The Victory of the Vulnerable One and Our Call to Remain Close to Christ

The Blessed Mother, St. John, St. Mary Magdalene and the women at the cross can be our guides when our world chooses to degrade the Son of God.

A statue of the Virgin Mary at an oratory in the Basilica-Cathedral of Saint-Denis, the church location of a recent Mass for athletes competing at the Paris Olympics.
A statue of the Virgin Mary at an oratory in the Basilica-Cathedral of Saint-Denis, the church location of a recent Mass for athletes competing at the Paris Olympics. (photo: CHRISTOPHE ARCHAMBAULT / 2016 photo, AFP via Getty Images)

The entire globe has become aware of the Opening Ceremony of the Olympics in Paris on Friday. The rampant over-sexualization and the overt mockery of the Last Supper has created an enormous amount of commentary.

Catholics are enraged and saddened.

Catholics are upset and baffled.

As Catholics, however, our fundamental response should be rooted in the heart of Jesus, which is revealed in the True Presence of the Eucharist.

The scandalous images from the Opening Ceremony were made possible because of the dismantling of the religious sense of our culture; that is undeniable. However, it is also made possible because of who Christ is and because of the nature of the Eucharist. Jesus came to redeem humanity. He came because we are broken and we are in need of his sacrifice. Some accepted this truth when he presented it, and some rejected it. Some mocked him, and others spat on him as he gave his life so that we could live.

In the Eucharist, we see this truth lived out at every single Sacrifice of the Mass. Bread and wine truly become the Body and Blood of the Risen and Living Jesus Christ. At each Mass, however, attendees can easily overlook and ignore his Presence. The most intimate way to encounter God on earth is found in fragile and vulnerable bread and wine. As the world saw this past Friday, Jesus can still be trampled underfoot and spat upon like he was on his steps toward Calvary.

We are called to speak up and stand up for him. We are invited to champion the most divine gift we have ever received in Holy Communion. We should preach it to the world. Along with doing so, we ought to also explain that the Christian faith was built upon rejection and mockery. Judas betrayed Christ directly following the Last Supper, and Peter denied even knowing Jesus after just hours after having his feet washed and receiving the Eucharist on Holy Thursday evening.

This type of behavior is not new to Christ. It is also not strong enough to defeat his triumph. We should be appalled but not necessarily surprised that our culture denies him today. In the context of Jesus’ beating by the Roman soldiers and mockery by the bystanders were those who saw him for who he truly was. The Blessed Mother, St. John, St. Mary Magdalene and the women at the cross can be our guides when our world chooses to degrade the Son of God.

They remained with Jesus. They were saddened and probably enraged. But, most importantly, they remained, and they adored. Our invitation from the Lord is to do the same, while trusting more fervently in his victory despite our current circumstances.

Our God became so vulnerable that he was born of a peasant young woman in a barn. He allowed his life to be taken from him by offering it on the cross. Christ continues to become vulnerable today in each and every single consecrated Host and every single drop of Precious Blood. When we attend Mass this Sunday, or sooner, let us not ignore Who is before us. Let us be invigorated to adore Jesus like his Mother and humble disciples did at Golgotha.

If we do so, our prayerful and humble witness and words can lay the foundation for contemporary repentant thieves to see Who is before them in the Blessed Sacrament. Then we can all proclaim together, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom” (Luke 23:42). Because the victory lies in the Lamb who was slain. The triumph rests in the hands of the seemingly powerless One who is locked away inside of every tabernacle across the world — vulnerably waiting for us to come and adore.