The task of prophet Ezekiel was to keep up the spirits of the Jews exiled to Babylon. For them it seemed that the Sack of Jerusalem was the end of all hope: they had lost their homes, their king, their Temple and even their covenant with God. Ezekiel was a person of fantastic imagination, not afraid to indulge in wild and daring mimes to force through his message that God was still in charge and still caring for Israel. He mimed the siege of Jerusalem by building a mud-brick model and escaping through the wall. His visions are also daring and inspiring. Perhaps the best-known is the Valley of the Dead Bones, prophesying that Israel will come to life again, and read at our Easter Vigil. The present chapter is a imaginative allegory about a great cedar tree despoiled by two eagles, that is, Israel despoiled by Babylon and Egypt. Our reading is a tailpiece, promising that Israel will again become a great cedar tree, in whose shade the nations will come to take shelter. The gospel parable uses the same figure of a great tree in which all peoples will shelter. The great cedars on the mountains of Lebanon are an awesome and unforgettable sight, stretching far into the sky and wide across the hills, a suitable refuge for great birds.

Paul uses several different sets of imagery to convey the goal of the Christian life for which he is longing. We know that all imagery is inadequate, but especially such pictures as heaven ‘up there’, in the clouds, playing harps. In 1 Corinthians 15 Paul used images of participating in God’s power, incorruptibility and glory, transformed into a new mode of being by the Spirit. In last week’s reading he spoke of the ‘weight of glory’. In today’s reading he speaks of ‘being at home’ with the Lord in contrast to being in exile. Now that we are adopted children of God, to be with the Lord is our natural family home-coming. In the final sentence he envisages also the final judgement when we are laid bare for what we truly are, the frightening but comforting moment when we see ourselves as God sees us, when we can cease putting on an act and keeping up appearances. Before God there is neither need nor possibility of pretence. All masks are stripped off. This too is an aspect of being at home, for there is no pretending before the family. This fills him with courage and optimism on his journey home from exile.

Jesus was a countryman, from the rich agricultural plains of Galilee, where wheat and fruit-trees abounded. It was natural from him to use such imagery for the Kingship of God which he was proclaiming. Today’s gospel-reading offers us two of the many images in Mark’s chapter of parables. What did Jesus want to teach by them? Images can carry many layers of meaning. First, the Seed Growing Secretly. Perhaps Jesus meant that God’s purposes are accomplished in spite of our feeble and fumbling efforts. Perhaps it was a warning that after long waiting the time for decision, the time of harvest had come with Jesus’ own mission. Then the Mustard-Seed: was this a reply to the discouraged disciples – or perhaps Jesus’ critical opponents – that his motley little group of undistinguished peasants, fishermen and tax-collectors would grow into God’s own mighty tree. Perhaps this is a first hint that Jesus’ mission is for all nations, not just for Israel. All nations would come, nest and find a home in its branches. At any rate, both images show that God is in charge, and has great plans which will be fulfilled despite our own inadequacies.

Such a short reading contains much for us to reflect upon. The key figure in this passage is Melchizedek, high king of Salem. His name means both KING Melech, of JUSTICE Zedek and of PEACE. He appears from nowhere and is not mentioned again in the book of Genesis. He is referred to in Psalm 110 and in the New Testament in the Letter to Hebrews, chapter 7 verses 1 to 10. He clearly believes there is only one God and as a priest he blesses the Patriarch Abraham which gives him authority and grace. A careful study of the Old Testament reveals how God uses Gentiles, non Jews in his plans and this is an example. The writer to the Hebrews sees in Melchizedek a prefiguring of Jesus because he is not a priest by genealogy, and he is a king. Thus priesthood and kingship are vitally connected. Jesus demonstrates both roles through his crucifixion by sacrificing himself on the cross as the high priest and as King by overcoming death, evil and suffering through the resurrection. The feast of Corpus Christi has all of this at its heart and the symbols of bread and wine in this encounter prefigure the Eucharist which acts as a tangible way to remember and celebrate our salvation in Jesus, King and High Priest forever after the order of Melchizedek.

Paul gives us the story of this meal, which he himself had received from what was already traditional, hardly a dozen years after the Last Supper, well before the Gospels were written .

Jesus himself was the lamb who was to be sacrificed, and his new covenant was sealed, not in blood sprinkled, but in his own blood consumed . It was a ‘memorial’, that is, an effective re-enactment, actually renewing the act of dedication and union . In today’s reading Paul is rebuking the Corinthians for re-enacting this significant moment thoughtlessly, as though it was an ordinary festal meal; they had lost the intention and the seriousness . They were no longer proclaiming the death of Jesus, no longer engaging themselves in the new covenant . It is a dangerous thing to commit oneself to a new covenant sealed by death and leading to new life.

This is the last of the readings from the Bread of Life discourse. It moves on from seeing Christ as the Wisdom of God, who must be accepted and believed, to the sacrament of eating the bread of life. These correspond to the two halves of the Holy Communion, first the service of the Word, Jesus communicates his life giving words to us, and then through the re-enactment of the Last Supper where we are fed with his body and blood in the Eucharistic banquet. We are all so diet-conscious nowadays that it is quite obvious that the food we eat affects us. By eating Christ we are assimilated into him. But, just as, if I am sick, food does me no good and can even harm me, so if I eat Christ sacramentally without wanting to be moulded into him, it does me no good at all. That is why Paul complained that the Corinthians were answerable for the death of Christ. And drinking the blood of Christ? Blood is the sign of life – if there is no blood, there is no life – and God is the Lord of life and death. So if I receive Christ’s blood, I take on his life, his divine life, as the gift of God. That has alarming side-effects: it means I share Christ’s life with other Christians. We all live with the same life’s blood. Do I really share my life, my talents, my goods with others, knowing that I share the same bloodstream?