Do you really know what it takes to be happy?

Why does Jesus give us his blood to drink? Is giving us his body to eat not enough to communicate that he is offering us all of himself? What does his blood add? Does it just neatly package what we need to survive — food and drink, thus his body and his blood?

Why did he take wine and not water? Some might say it is because wine is sort of red and it is closer to the color of blood. Others might say that it is because the Jewish meal from which our Eucharist originates was celebrated with wine. But perhaps it goes deeper than these reasons.

We often associate blood with pain, hardship, and suffering. Clotted in a daunting and disheartening triumvirate are blood, sweat, and tears. But we must remind ourselves that it is wine that Jesus takes and gives us saying, “This is my blood.” Wine is a symbol of joy. “The Lord gives us wine to make our hearts glad” (Psalm 104:15). In the Anima Christi, we pray, “Blood of Christ, inebriate me.” Inebriate does not only mean to intoxicate; it also means to exhilarate – to excite, enliven, and invigorate.

God does not only want to give us what we need; God desires abundance for us. This is why Jesus was sent by the Father: “I came that you may have life and have it to the full” (John 10:10). He does not only wish that we survive; he wills that we thrive. Bread is for our daily sustenance and nourishment, but wine is there not only to keep us going but to put a spring in our step.

Wine is for joy. But after saying that it should not just be associated with blood, sweat, and tears, we also have to say that true joy cannot be separated from blood, sweat, and tears. Joy that comes without sacrifice and self-emptying is often empty or shallow at best. The wine that Jesus takes does not remain an alcoholic drink that numbs and deadens; he turns it into his blood, which opens us up to pain but also gives us life. Think of what a blood transfusion does. Now think of what the Blood of Christ can infuse.

But all this cannot happen without pain. (Spoiler alert: Do not read the rest of this paragraph if you still intend to watch the movie The Fault in our Stars.) In one scene from that tearjerker of a film, Hazel Grace, a young lady dying from cancer, tells Augustus Waters, her suitor, that she does not want to be his girlfriend. It is not because she does not like him. It is because she does not want him to get hurt. She is dying, and no relationship with her can last: “I’m a grenade and at some point I’m going to blow up, and I would like to minimize the casualties, okay?” But Augustus Waters is wise beyond his years. He knows what it really takes to be happy. He knows that pain is part and parcel of joy: “Oh, I wouldn’t mind, Hazel Grace. It would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you.” A poster in August Waters’ house summarizes this perfectly: “Without pain, you cannot know joy.”

It is not that we should go around seeking to be hurt. But if we want to love, we have to be ready for pain as well. Do you really know what it takes to be happy? Are you willing to pay the price to be happy? Can you see that it is not just a “price to pay” but a privilege?

 I have a friend who was blessed with a chance to study in the United States on scholarship. But the opportunity came when her mother was also quite ill, crippled with a debilitating disease. Should she go or should she stay? Her mother was one of those who encouraged her the most: “You should go.” She asked her mother, “Why do you still want me to go? You are sick….” Her mother answered, “Your dream is my dream for you.”

Of course, the mother would miss her. Of course, the mother would find life easier with her daughter there to take care of her. But the mother was also happy to see her daughter learn more so that she would have more to share with others. It was joy in the face of pain. Do not ask which was greater – the joy or the pain. It was neither. It was the love that was truly great and that mattered most.

My friend’s mother passed away early this month. My friend has not yet graduated from her program, but when she does, when she walks up the stage and receives her diploma, I am sure she will remember her mother’s words. “Your dream is my dream for you.” And her mother will be on that stage with her – as she has always been. The quote on the mother’s memorial card was chosen well: “Those we have loved and lost are no longer where they were before. Now they are wherever we are” (St. John Chrysostom).

It is the same with Jesus’ offer of his blood. Yes, there is joy. Yes, there is pain. But behind everything is also love. And it is that love that assures us that though Jesus is not with us as he was with his disciples during the Last Supper, somehow he is wherever we are.

Today is the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ. The Eucharist, which this feast celebrates, is a Sacrament of Presence. It is also a Sacrament of joy and pain lovingly taken on. It is a Sacrament of love.