Not all blood is freely given.
The last time I saw blood at church (excluding the Precious Blood of Christ) before donating my own a week ago, I was kneeling in a pew, shedding quiet tears after receiving Holy Communion (Jesus just shared His body, blood, soul, and divinity with us!), and my sister was cradling her bleeding finger.
I dug through my purse to acquire all of the tissues I could find. My mom applied pressure to the wound. My dad struggled to keep his breakfast where it belonged. Neighboring parishioners prepared to dial the ambulance.
Okay, blood didn’t gush and first responders didn’t arrive, although I wouldn’t be surprised if either did. I’ve seen some pretty dramatic scenes unfold during Mass.
Jessica simply had a small cut near her index fingernail that started to bleed, so I handed her a Kleenex from my purse, and the only reason I thought anything of it was because the most spiritually ecstatic moment of my week was interrupted by a little drop of blood. It was a welcomed interruption. I’m grateful for any opportunity to be of service, however insignificant; yet, whenever little distractions like this occur during the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, the Divine Liturgy, the Memorial of the Lord’s Passion–basically the most solemn, sacred, mysterious, and beautiful celebration in heaven and on earth–I have to pause to smile.
I have to stop to smell the flowers, if you will.
Jesus gives His body and His soul, and so must we.
How is it, I had to wonder, that in the same minute I am receiving the greatest Gift of all time, I am also offering my sister a tissue for a minor cut? How is it that in the same minute my spirit is being elevated as high as possible, my body is also pulling me back down to address the situation at hand? How is it that in the same minute I am searching through my soul, I am also searching through my physical possessions?
I could go on and on. The coexistence of the temporal order with the spiritual order is one of the most mysterious articles of the Christian faith.
God permits the mundane to mingle with the sacred. Just ask any parent whose child happens to cry during the elevation of the Eucharist, or avoid stepping on the Hot Wheels car another child dropped, or observe the two women treating a cut finger during silent prayer. Today, I could hardly focus on the words of the Nicene Creed because a few worship aid papers were askew or falling out of their slots completely, and nobody within range thought to adjust them or pick them up. (How did that not bother anyone else?!)
The faithful have to “give a little bit,” spiritually and materially, if they hope to explore the Sacred Mysteries at all. I have to surrender my spirit to God, and a tissue to my sister, because Christianity is about negotiating heavenly realities with earthly realities. Jesus spent His whole life doing it, and is still doing it at every Mass where His Flesh and Blood, and His Spirit, are united and offered. This is why the Church emphasizes the practice of both Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy, and why Saint Teresa of Calcutta, an expert in the field of giving, sought to alleviate both temporal and transcendent, or material and immaterial, poverty.
You get what you give (and more).
Christians are asked to give of themselves. We offer our own bodies, blood, souls, spirits, hearts, minds, and personal possessions to God and to others because this is how Jesus teaches us to love. When we freely offer, sacrifice, or give a gift, it is multiplied, increased, and perfected. To quote every coach of any sport ever: “You get out of it what you put into it.” If Jesus were coaching, He would say, “You get even more out of it what you put into it.”
“One man is lavish yet grows still richer; another is too sparing, yet is the poorer.”
Proverbs 11:24
Giving my sister a tissue was easy. I felt like Lucy Pevensie offering her hankie to Mr. Tumnus, or like one of those Good Samaritans on the heartwarming Kleenex commercials–but not all giving is so simple, fun, and immediately rewarding. “True love hurts,” we remember St. Teresa says, and any act of love that is conditional upon reciprocity is hardly love at all. Lucy gave her hankie for the sake of giving it. The little boy gave the little girl a Kleenex for the sake of giving it.
God asks that we give physically and spiritually, in little ways and big ways, and while we often do receive something in return, we are better off expecting not to.
Stop to Smell the Flowers 