What Corpus Christi Means to Me: Reflections on Faith and Presence

Every year, as summer nears and spring fades, the Catholic Church pauses to celebrate a feast unlike any other — Corpus Christi, the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Christ.

And every year, I find myself reflecting not only on its beauty, but on what it really means to me.

For many, Corpus Christi is a liturgical event: a Mass, a procession, a tradition.
For me, it has become something much deeper: a reminder that God is not distant — He is present, real, and near.

This is my reflection. Not as a theologian, but as a believer — a person trying to walk with Christ in a complicated world, grateful that He walks with me.

The First Time I Understood the Eucharist

I grew up Catholic. I made my First Communion, I went to Sunday Mass, and I knew that the bread and wine somehow “became Jesus.”

But it wasn’t until I knelt during a Corpus Christi procession in my hometown — watching the priest hold the monstrance high beneath a golden canopy, with people around me singing and scattering flowers — that it clicked.

That’s Jesus.
Not a symbol. Not a memory.
A Person. Present. Waiting to be adored.

It was in that moment I stopped “knowing” about the Eucharist and started believing in it.

A Feast That Speaks When Words Fail

There are moments in life when faith is hard.
When prayers feel dry. When God feels far away.
When your heart breaks and your hope runs low.

And in those moments, I’ve found it hard to “think” my way back to faith.

But I can kneel.
I can gaze at the Host in silence.
I can walk behind Him in a Corpus Christi procession.
And I can say — even if weakly — “I believe. Help my unbelief.”

The feast of Corpus Christi gives space for presence without pressure — it reminds me that Jesus is here, even when I don’t have the words.

Walking With Christ, Literally

One of my favorite parts of Corpus Christi is the Eucharistic procession.

There’s something so profound about taking Jesus into the world — not just in our hearts, but on our streets.

I’ve walked behind the Blessed Sacrament:

• On hot pavement and cobbled stone
• In silence and in song
• With strangers and friends
• In cities, villages, and parking lots

Each time, I’m reminded:

“Christ walks with us. Christ blesses our broken world. Christ is not only in the Church — He’s among His people.”

Faith That Isn’t Private

We live in a world where faith is often seen as private, internal, personal.

But Corpus Christi says:

• Faith can be public
• Faith can be celebrated
• Faith can be witnessed

It’s a procession of joy and reverence. A testimony in motion. A moment when we say — without apology — “We believe in the real presence of Jesus Christ.”

And it inspires me to live that belief outside the feast day, too.

Presence That Changes Everything

The Eucharist isn’t just a belief I hold — it’s a presence that holds me.

It’s the quiet strength that carries me through stress.
It’s the stillness that centers me in chaos.
It’s the love that finds me when I feel unlovable.
It’s the healing that meets me when I’m wounded.

And Corpus Christi is the yearly celebration that reminds me to slow down, to re-center, and to come back to the Source.

A Challenge and an Invitation

Every Corpus Christi, I ask myself:

• Do I live like I believe Jesus is truly present?
• Do I make time for Adoration?
• Do I approach the Eucharist with awe and gratitude — or with routine?
• Do I allow this Sacrament to shape me?

Because if I truly believe that God makes Himself small — for me — in the Eucharist, then that should change how I live.

Final Thought: He Is Here

Corpus Christi is not about tradition for tradition’s sake.
It’s about presence.
It’s about Jesus saying — again and again — “I am with you.”

Not in metaphor. Not just in memory.
But in the Host held high, the tabernacle’s silence, the gold of the monstrance, the bread on my tongue.

He is here.
And I am His.