The ineffable mystery of the Blessed Sacrament

Nonetheless he became Pope Urban IV after having acquitted himself well as Patriarch of Jerusalem.  His attentions also involved him in concerns from Constantinople to Germany and Denmark.

Two months before his death in 1264, he commissioned Saint Thomas Aquinas to write hymns for a new feast honoring the Eucharistic Presence of Christ.  There used to be many hymnodic "Sequences," but over the years they were trimmed down to Easter and Pentecost and, later, Corpus Christi.  Although Aquinas had written so sublimely about the Real Presence, Urban wanted song more than prose.  Thus we have Pange Lingua, Tantum Ergo, Panis Angelicus, and O Salutaris Hostia.  As they have endured nearly nine centuries so far, they are likely to outlast the musical kitsch that guitar-strumming grey heads of a dying Woodstock generation persist in thinking are the heraldic sounds of a New Age.  Unlike the works of those more recent composers, whose absent Latin and poor English only serve to express a low Eucharistic theology, the classical hymnody of Aquinas can best be sung in the original and, if sung in translation, needs translators who are accomplished Latinists and masters of English.  Two Anglican converts of the nineteenth century, Edward Caswall and Gerard Manley Hopkins, qualified for that.

The ineffable mystery of the Blessed Sacrament will always be prey to minds smaller than the Doctors of the Church, as they try to reduce mystery to mere human puzzle whose pieces can be arranged according to limited human intelligence.  Even in Pope Urban's age, which by many standards of architecture and scholarship was golden, confusion about the Real Presence in the Mass was spreading.  One priest, Father Peter of Prague, while en route to Rome was granted what the Church considers a miracle: blood emanating from the Host.  Pope Urban was in nearby Orvieto and sent delegates to inspect the phenomenon.  The Feast of Corpus Christi soon followed.

At the last Supper, our Lord did not subject his apostles to a lecture on how he could give them his Body to eat and Blood to drink.  He simply commanded, "Do this."  This is not to deny the vocation of theologians ever since to describe the Heavenly Banquet, but the best of them have known the difference between apprehending and comprehending.  "Faith for all defects supplying, Where the feeble senses fail."

A Baptist hymn writer in the nineteenth century, Robert Lowry, would certainly have been a bit uncomfortable in the presence of the Dominican master Thomas Aquinas, but one suspects that the Angelic Doctor would have fully empathized with the confidence of Lowry's hymn:

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart,
A fountain ever springing;
All things are mine since I am his—
How can I keep from singing?