The priest leaned over the altar, gently holding forth the Sacred Host as he pronounced the words of consecration: “This is my Body . . . given up for you.” As I bowed my head in reverence during the moment of elevation, this prayer of the Mass suddenly washed over me with new significance for my femininity.
The language surrounding Christ’s total self-donation deeply resonates with me as a woman: It certainly applies to mothers, who give of their entire selves in a daily, active, and particularly physical way to bear and care for their children. Yet the words “this is my Body . . . given up for you,” hold relevance not only for mothers but for every woman, in a manner written into our very bodily rhythms.
Christ invites us to participate in the mystery of His sacrifice and self-donation through the vulnerability and offering of our menstrual cycles. In particular, on our days of bleeding we can draw ourselves closer to Him Who offered Himself entirely, as Body and Blood, in Eucharistic self-gift for each of us. Dear sister, wherever your fertility experiences may have led you, may this prayerful reflection bring you greater joy and renewed strength in the self-gift of your womanhood.
Surrendering to a Hidden Suffering
With the start of each new menstrual cycle, the crucified Lord flashes before my mind in prayer. During this shedding of blood, routine and familiar to me as it is, my being echoes the refrain “not my will, Lord, but yours be done” (see Luke 22:42). In particular, I accept that another month has passed in which I do not physically bear new life within me.
A certain sensitivity and suffering envelop me for a time, a physical and emotional depletion accompanying the challenge and discomfort of these days. As my system renews itself, I let my emotions and my entire soul be purged by uniting myself in prayer to Jesus’ suffering. I am drawn inward, perhaps even towards silence, and called to slow down. It is relieving to give way to the weight of exhaustion and irritation from the close of my prior cycle.
While experiencing this, I think of words spoken by a character in the third Lord of the Rings film, The Return of the King, as he lay on the battlefield: “My body is broken.” There is certainly a cognitive dissonance to the relevance of this phrase: My body bleeds, and while an organism typically bleeds when it is broken, neither damage nor dysfunction are at work here in me. Instead, during menstruation, my body does what it is supposed to do. By exception, the sense of being “broken” points to functionality rather than mishap within me—I know that this menstrual bleeding is necessary and acceptable, and that it paradoxically means both death and life. A part of me is being broken open for a time, to subsequently heal and restore.
Broken for You
Although the blood of menstruation indicates life and strength, it also demands that I gracefully accept the connotation of brokenness confronting me during this time. Emotionally, I find I am more fragile, and physically, I may require additional rest and care during these days. As much as I desire to be invulnerable and have it all together, I must release this preference and acknowledge my limitations. Most of all, albeit in a smaller way, I find that my body is broken like Christ’s was, both on the Cross and in His Eucharistic sacrifice. This is an invitation to me to unite my body with His.
Here, then, the words surrounding the consecration of the Holy Eucharist at Mass crystallize with new richness for our femininity. Although a woman’s body may feel “broken” as she bleeds each month, it is so because she is blessed to be the vessel that has the potential for God to touch with the miracle of new life. Her brokenness signifies that she can pour out—her whole being is made to nurture others in an intimate and maternal way, both physically and spiritually. She is broken because she is blessed with a feminine capacity to give herself.
A profound spiritual reality is infused in a woman’s bodily experience, recognizable if she views it with the eyes of grace. Through her body’s cycle, a woman is distinctively offered the opportunity to lay down her life so that others may live. Blessed, broken, given in offering: Each woman is called to live Christ’s words of consecration (see Matthew 26:26).
Sacrament and Self-Gift
“A woman’s life must be a Eucharistic life,” Saint Edith Stein emphasizes in her Essays on Woman (vol. 2 p. 56), and indeed, in light of what is written into our bodies, the grace and strength that Christ offers in Holy Communion are particularly special and vital for His daughters.
Through the Holy Eucharist, we can unite the crosses and vulnerability that accompany “the privilege of being a woman” (to quote philosopher Alice von Hildebrand) to His wounds and His Cross. The mingling of Christ’s Body and Blood with ours, when we receive the Holy Eucharist and intentionally unite our suffering to his, elevates our suffering to His redemptive chalice. This discloses a rich dimension of the reality of our womanhood. When we remain close to our Eucharistic Lord, His self-donation nourishes and forms the same grace in us so that we might more abundantly nurture others.
In the Holy Eucharist, Christ offers us His Sacred Body and His Precious Blood in two consumable species. He might have chosen to leave it at “this is my Body,” giving us simply the Sacred Host—we would still understand that His Blood, as the life principle of His Body, was included in that reality, as is His whole Self. Christ’s complete presence is fully in each element. After all, receiving one Eucharistic species (e.g., the Sacred Host) at Holy Mass gives us Jesus’s entire Personhood, His full material and spiritual presence in Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity. But Christ saw fit to offer Himself with an emphasis on both Body and Blood. I find myself awestruck at this particularity.
Perhaps this is also why, in God’s Divine Providence, woman stood at Calvary on Good Friday. On the Cross, Christ redeemed the “curse” inflicted upon women after Eve’s disobedience (see Genesis 3:16). He gave us His Precious Blood as He surrendered His life to the Father so that each woman might also surrender her being to God’s will. As He poured everything forth to save humankind in a complete gift of Himself, our Lord’s final gaze fell on the faithful feminine figures beneath His Cross. As He invited them (and through them, all women) into the communion of His self-gift, Christ enriched the profound link that exists between womanhood and suffering.
The consecration bells ring again as the chalice is elevated. I contemplate its resplendence, and as the priest lowers it, I slowly bow my head again in reverence. Could it be—I ponder—that when offering us not only His Sacred Body but specifically also His Precious Blood in the Holy Eucharist . . . could it be that Christ particularly thought of His daughters?
THE GREATEST GIFT
In this study on the Eucharist, we explore the truth that Jesus is the answer to your every need.
Join us as we explore John chapter 6 to learn how the reality of the Holy Eucharist applies to our lives.
Discover what a gift He is.
Leila Joy Castillo calls Florida home but left her heart in hill country long ago. An alumna of Ave Maria University, she freelances in Catholic communications and is a published writer, primarily on Blessed is She and Ascension. When not dabbling in the multitudinous Google docs of her articles, Leila delights in music, personalist philosophy, quality time with her younger siblings, and her literary trifecta: Austen, Lewis, and Dante. You can find her on Instagram @leila_joyinthejourney or follow her personal site here.
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