Three Corpus Christi Links: Staying Catholic, Seeing Christ, And Ye Olde Romoeroticism

PEG says some stuff I can really relate to:

“Where would we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Peter’s words here are the words of a desperate lover, which is definitely what he was. Peter almost never understood Jesus, at least until Easter, but he knew he loved him, and that was enough for him.

That’s what we need to do. Hold on to love. Desperately. Like a life preserver in the storm. Nothing else saves, everything else is straw.

more! also PEG IS BLOGGING AGAIN Y’ALL

Bad Catholic gets “Bette Davis Eyes” stuck in my head:

Protestants puzzle over how Catholics can see the person of Christ in a piece of bread. But the greater mystery seems to be how Catholics see the person in the face of the Protestant. Both parties live in a world in which the gaze sees, not people, but tools, objects, social classes, races — a media world full of media types. The idea of seeing a particular person rather than this or that thing, really seeing her as an unrepeatable life, an unfathomable mystery and an infinite value — it’s about as shocking and difficult as seeing God in bread and wine.

I can think of no better education of the eyes than Eucharistic adoration.

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and Gay Pride is next weekend this year, but I still dig this old column I did from a year when Pride and Corpus Christi coincided:

…The monsignor walked with Christ’s Body under an umbrella stamped with the papal insignia. No one explained what we were doing. Our witness was real, but enigmatic. Nobody ever said that this was the Body exalted.

I half-jokingly (it’s never joking all the way down) suggested that my coreligionists throw rosary beads next year. Maybe then we’ll finally get around to talking about what the Catholic Church has to offer to gay men and women.

We have what virtually no one else has. Other forms of Christianity have, for the most part, either ditched the prohibition on gay sex or insisted that homosexuality can be fixed, as if our profound longings were a leaky carburetor. In a landscape of gay heresy, blank silence, and secularized therapy, the Catholic Church offers a more compelling alternative: the possibility of shockingly chaste same-sex love.

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