Human vulnerability can be viewed in various ways. It can be regarded as a liability, a sign of weakness or failure to be hidden or overcome. It can also be seen as a capacity for something precious which needs special protection and stewardship. Sadly, it can also be seen as something to be taken advantage of through sin. In all its senses, human vulnerability bespeaks a potential to be wounded, whether physically, spiritually, emotionally or psychologically. Our possible “breakability” can make us feel insecure and fearful. We are further impacted by the individualistic and narcissistic attitudes of our times which are becoming increasingly intolerant of human vulnerability, especially with regard to the beginning and end of life itself. The indifference is discouraging and we wonder what the future holds. Yet the Incarnation offers us hope: Jesus Christ, embracing the limits of our humanity in all things but sin, bestowed on us a new potential to receive divine life. Our part is to actualise that potential by cooperating with it through a lively sacramental faith and charity toward others. Because of our vulnerability to various perils along the way, Christ gives Himself to us as food for the journey in the Eucharist, the living “Heartbeat of the Church,” encouraging us and inviting us to make him “the heartbeat of our own lives.” (Benedict XVI)
This call to holiness is a gift and a challenge as sometimes humanity itself feels like a liability with the experience of sin, suffering and disappointment. At these times, Pope Leo XIV encourages us to pray to the Holy Spirit. As the Comforter, the Holy Spirit opens the “borders of our hearts” to love. As the Spirit of Truth, He breaks down hidden walls of fear, indifference, pride and blindness. As the Advocate, He challenges us “to confront the possibility that our lives are shrivelling up, trapped in the vortex of individualism.” (Leo XIV)
It is the Holy Spirit who prepares our hearts for the Eucharistic mystery, the effect of which is restorative union. Whereas sin estranges us and makes us vulnerable to fear and temptations, the Eucharist restores union with God and with one another. The powerful effects of the moment of Transubstantiation, where the bread and wine are changed into the Body and Blood of Christ, are described vividly by Pope Benedict XVI:
The substantial conversion of bread and wine into his body and blood introduces within creation the principle of a radical change, a sort of "nuclear fission," to use an image familiar to us today, which penetrates to the heart of all being, a change meant to set off a process which transforms reality, a process leading ultimately to the transfiguration of the entire world, to the point where God will be all in all (cf. 1 Cor 15:28).
Sin brings fragmentation and discouragement as well as a resistance to persevere in grace. Yet it is into this fragility that Christ comes to us in the Eucharist, especially in Holy Communion. We are called to do our part and work to be humbly disposed in faith and charity to receive Him. (CCC 1385)
The Eucharist heals the wounds of venial sin. (CCC 1394) Its healing grace cleanses the soul of lesser wounds, though Its power is not ordered to the forgiveness of grave sins as this is a grace bestowed in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. For this reason, the Church, in her maternal wisdom, exhorts anyone conscious of a grave sin to receive mercy and forgiveness in the sacrament of Reconciliation before approaching Communion. This is significant because the celebration of the Eucharist presupposes an existing communion, a communion which It seeks to deepen and perfect. Thus there is an intimate connection between the sacraments of the Eucharist and Penance: the Eucharist makes present the redeeming sacrifice of Calvary, “perpetuating it sacramentally,” calling forth an ongoing conversion of heart and reconciliation. The path of Penance for grave sin is not optional; it is necessary because it opens the way to full participation in the Eucharistic Sacrifice. (Pope St John Paul II) However, the discernment of one’s readiness to receive Holy Communion is entrusted to the individual, enlightened by a sincere examination of his or her own conscience. Sometimes we may think we are travelling quite well but need to look deeper at the measure of our charity. For this, we have great friends in the Saints who are always ready to intercede for us and, at times, to hold up that illuminating mirror for self-examination – like this clear one offered by St John Chrysostom:
You have tasted the Blood of the Lord, yet you do not recognize your brother . . . You dishonour this table when you do not judge worthy of sharing your food someone judged worthy to take part in this meal . . . God freed you from all your sins and invited you here, but you have not become more merciful.
Thankfully we also have the maternal intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary, our Mother of Mercy, who stands as the supreme icon of holy vulnerability. Her openness was not born of weakness but of total receptivity to the action of divine grace. Even before the Institution of the Eucharist, Mary lived a Eucharistic faith, offering in humility her entire being to God’s redemptive plan. At the Annunciation, her “yes” opened the space for the Incarnation. In that moment, she anticipated in her own body and soul the mystery that every believer realises who receives the Body and Blood of Christ under the humble signs of bread and wine.
Christ chose to descend into the fragility of our humanity, making our weakness the meeting place of divine encounter. In the Eucharist, hailed by St Thomas Aquinas as pignus futurae gloriae “a pledge of future glory,” we are not just reminded of our eternal destiny but drawn into a real and effective participation in it. This sacred mystery is a forestate of the heavenly banquet, nourishing us on our journey. The Eucharist feeds our longing and keeps our hearts burning for that which “eye has not seen and ear has not heard.”
Dr Tania Ekman is the Manager of the Centre for Faith and Reason in the Archdiocese of Sydney.