Right now, I consider myself one of the happiest, most blessed priests in the Church - for this year, this week, I was allowed to observe Corpus Christi twice - once in San Francisco at my old parish, and now this morning here in my beloved St Mary's with you. Corpus Christi - one of my all-time favorites, and twice this time round. A chance, to observe and participate last week, and now more gloriously, more wonderfully, for me, a chance to celebrate - the Feast of Corpus Christi myself, with you. This is the most magnificent day - one wonderful Sunday to spend some time worshiping, adoring, celebrating, and reflecting on this matchless gift of love, a morning when we can bask content and secure, serene and satisfied in the greatest gift that regularly recurs in our lives, a chance to adore the Sacrament, a chance to spend some time in the sacramental presence of our Lord on earth in a more vivid and obvious way than many other, simpler, Sundays. At the end of Mass, on this one Sunday, we will have a Procession all around the church with the Sacred Body of our Lord carried about - amidst you, among you, but above all before you - that once-a-year powerful reminder that only a Procession with the Sacrament can provide: That enactment of the reality of our faith, with Jesus Christ at the fore, leading us on, we are always, only, but faithfully, following after. Not Jesus Christ vicariously present in our ministrations to others on his behalf, not Jesus Christ symbolically present in images or figures or representations of his Sacrifice, but our Lord Jesus Christ, in his real presence going on ahead of us, leading us into the world of our lives and loves and ministries. A morning to prepare ourselves, to remind ourselves, to proclaim to others, some extremely critical information which will be needed in the day of our necessity: A morning, a moment, to reaffirm the actual, real, saving presence of Jesus Christ in the consecrated bread - the Sacramental Presence of Christ, the way fashioned by God so that the infinite can be present in the finite, and the eternal present in the temporal. I hope, one day, at the conclusion of my mortality, to worship Christ face to face, to love him and adore him in his presence, a presence no longer Sacramentally mediated. Until then I have his presence here, genuine, authentic, or as the Episcopal Church puts it so simply: Real. So, with utmost reverence and devotion, we watch in wonder and love as what to others appears to be mere bread, lifted up, carried among you as we sing a perfect hymn of praise and offer adoration. Corpus Christi allows us, encourages us, enables us to make a huge statement about how seriously we take sacraments, our utter conviction that in the Sacraments of the Church, Christ is truly present. We need to know that and remember it always and without fail or doubt. We need to be reassured, about the real, objective presence of our Lord in the Sacrament. Corpus Christi does that. Corpus Christi reminds us that our Lord's presence does not end with mass, he is not dismissed when we are dismissed at the conclusion of mass, he does not leave this place when we leave this place. His presence in the Reserved Sacrament is not somehow less real, actual, genuine, than his presence in the very celebration of the mass. His presence endures, abides, and is above all ready - ready and waiting for us in any time of need. Five years ago, I lay in the ICU, in some in fear and anxiety. With a severe infection and no viable immunity from my white cells, no ability to fight it or even resist it, I was making me, or trying rather to let Christ make peace in me, to prepare me for our meeting. It was a time of some anxiety and sadness, but more really a time of wonder about the duration and durability of my life, and a long-belated chance to reflect on my own mortality. On the darkest day, an apologetic and irritated nurse burst into my room ahead of a man. I was to have no visitors none, any further risk to my nonexistent immunity would be a disaster. The nurse fussed loudly: "I tried to tell him, I did tell him, you were to have no visitors, you should no visitors. He said, "This one he should have, this one he must have." And in he came. It was the bishop. And I am sure the nurse thought he meant himself. He as the visitor I had to have. He and I knew better, it was that tiny black pouch hung round his neck, that was who had come to be with me, and yes, I did want and need to see him. A simple, tiny bit of bread so tiny that an eagle-eyed nurse missed it entirely. The Bishop, my Bishop, God’s bishop, come into my room carrying the Sacrament reserved. I thank my God and Father that his faithful Church had long ago and well taught me, convinced me, that in that meager bread was the full and prefect presence of Jesus Christ my Lord, and to receive that host at the hands of that priest was to receive the author of life and the salvation of my soul and the point and purpose of my existence, to receive all of that into my life and heart and soul and mind afresh and anew and with life-sustaining results. If the Church had not done her job long years ago bringing me to believe in his full and real presence in that Sacrament, I am not certain what would have become of me. It is feasts like this that equip us for such days, so we will know and believe when we receive, and receiving be saved and raised to new life. The bishop came to visit me, and prayed with such love and solace that I was immeasurably strengthened. But he was eclipsed, as he would be the first joyfully to acknowledge, by a disk of bread, carried in a tiny pouch. We need this festival and a deep and thorough and prayerful reflection upon it to prepare us, enable us to receive that grace and glory in the day of our distress. The Episcopal presence, grateful as I was for it, was no match, as nothing is, for the meager bit of bread which is Jesus Christ our Lord. And it is a meager vehicle for so magnificent a manifestation - reassuring us of the appropriateness, the sufficiency of our own lives as vehicles for grace manifested to all and communicated into the lives of many, fully revealed to some, perceived and received with thanksgiving and love by at least one other. Yes, at the close of Mass I will carry among you, for you, that Visitor we all should, must, and do have. Every day.