For the feast of Corpus Christi (the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ) June 14, Father Paul Chu, pastor of Precious Blood Parish in Surrey, held a writing contest on the Precious Blood of Christ as a way to inspire parishioners and students at Cloverdale Catholic Elementary to meditate on the sacrificial love of Christ.
Here are the winning entries.
Adult – First Place
Precious Blood
The anchor of my life is the Precious Blood of Christ
Flowing through and through it gives my soul its light
Each day It is renewed in the receiving of the Host
With His Precious Blood came the gifts of the Holy Ghost
As I journey through this life His Blood showed me the way
It ran out upon the pavement stone for my sins to pay
For my dreadful thoughts the thorns did pierce His head
His Precious Blood turned His glorious face into a sea of red
At times I took a path which caused my soul to moan
He followed me with His Cross, His Blood bled from the bone
And when I turned my back on Him in the world to play
He lay upon the Cross, His Precious Blood draining away
His Spirit shone a light that finally touched my soul
I saw Him hanging on a tree and in His side a hole
The Life draining from His eyes beckoned me to stand near Him
The Precious Blood flowed from His side healing me of all my sin
As His eyes did close and His body did grow cold
His Precious Blood infused my heart bringing Christ to my lifeless soul
On those three days His Precious Blood did carpet earth and stone
But through It all my soul and yours would never be alone.
— John Lloyd
Adult – Second Place
A Hymn to the Precious Blood of Christ
In darkest hour on Calvary
From crown of thorns and hands and feet
Our Saviour, cross-bound by our sin
Shed all his blood in death’s defeat.
So far removed in time and place
From Calv’ry where his blood was poured,
How can we find that source of grace:
The Precious Blood of Christ Our Lord?
Here on the altar day by day,
The Blood of Christ is near at hand.
The Cup of Life poured out for us
When we fulfill the Lord’s command.
The Blood of Christ restores all good
As if our sins had never been.
Great paradox that drops of blood
Take sin-soiled robes and wash them clean.
The chalice made of precious gold,
More precious that which lies therein:
The Blood of Christ we may behold
And drink, and grace will dwell within.
— Keely Wray
Adult – Third Place
Precious Blood of Christ
O the Precious Blood of Christ,
is there anything more precious?
It is the great “I AM”
deigning to grace the lowly “I am not,”
with forgiveness, redemption, and salvation.
How is it that my Creator would
spill His precious blood for His created?
The one who pursued
and nailed Him to the cross?
And yet, can it be that I should gain
from His precious blood?
I can scarcely take it in
Such love, such mercy.
When I behold the Eucharist,
eat His body,
and drink His precious blood,
unworthy though I am,
His precious blood mingles with mine.
He grants me what I long for most.
He is in me and I am in Him,
and I am one with Him.
Alleluia!!! Praise the Lord!!!
Alleluia!!!
Amen and amen!
— Gloria Chin
High School – First Place
Mysterious Red
Red is a whisper in the tinge of twilight
Red is a true heart contrite
Red is the passionate gift of my Saviour:
the precious Blood of Christ.
Such sweet songs drip from the lips who have tasted of sacred
for this invaluable treasure dispels all hatred.
I am but a sinner – broken, unworthy – I frequently fall,
But Jesus reveals Himself through the darkness;
He has given me Himself, He has given me all.
His gracious sacrifice can never be repaid,
yet I am compelled to know, love, and serve Him
to fulfill this purpose for which I was made.
So now I consider the blessings in life which point to
beauty, truth, and goodness,
and I thank my God for His physical presence in the Mass,
The Source and Summit.
The precious Blood of Christ
In whom rests my soul’s fullness.
— Gemma Nootebos
High School – Second Place
Pentecost Sunday
On Pentecost Sunday, Lily sat in the pew next to her younger sister, who was apparently deep in prayer. Lily really didn’t want to come to Mass, but her mom insisted, so she was dragged along. She was thinking about how she could be in bed at that very moment.
Looking at the big crucifix above the altar, she noted how realistic it looked. She realized she was feeling a little sick. She thought it was because she didn’t have much breakfast, but while she was trying to remember the orange juice nutrition facts, she felt a lurch, and everything went black.
When she came back to her senses, she saw she was on a cobbled road, and the scent of horses and other animals overwhelmed her. There were people crowding the small street, dressed in robes and sandals, and they looked down the road as if expecting something. Lily scrambled off the road and behind a palm tree, where some children were picking palm branches. She was confused and wondering where she was when she saw a donkey coming down the road.
The people started cheering and waving their palm branches, shouting, “Hosanna!”
Lily knew where she was now. She remembered learning about this event in Grade 2, and now she was watching it for herself. She gazed in wonder at the man on the donkey and realized she was looking at Jesus. People had started laying down their robes on the ground in front of Jesus, and women were throwing blossoms, and children laid down their palm branches.
As Jesus passed Lily, He looked straight at her. Lily was about to speak with Him when she felt the lurching again and was hurled into another scene of Jesus’ life. When she woke up, she found herself on a hill outside the city. The sky was dark and lightning tore through the sky. She immediately recognized this as the day Jesus was crucified, and she hurried over to the spot where three crosses hung. She arrived as Jesus was taking His final breaths. Jesus looked down on her and smiled.
After He died, a soldier came up and stabbed him with a spear. Blood and water poured from His side, and she saw a vision of angels collecting His blood in a chalice. The angel passed the chalice to Lily, and she took a sip. The next moment, she was back in the Church, and her sister was poking her and pointing to the altar, where people had begun lining up for Communion. She went into line after her mom and baby brother and thought about what she had seen. When she came up to the priest, she sipped from the chalice, remembering how she tasted the Precious Blood of Christ, and realized that she was being given a great gift to be receiving it every week.
— Evelyn Wray
High School – Third Place
What does the Precious Blood mean to you?
When I kneel down for the consecration at Mass and watch the priest lift the chalice high, the first thought that comes to mind is Our Lord’s passion. During the three painful hours on the cross He gave completely of himself. We (as a human race) are a broken people. Scarred by sin. But Our Lord enters our self-dug pit and lifts us up by the touch of His hand. By His passion, and by the bright bittersweet drops of blood that He shed for us on the cross, He has saved us.
He has forgiven us. Not forgive and forget, but forgive, remember, and do better. And this same blood which was shed for us on the cross is what we are offering up to the Father at every Mass. Should we not learn from, follow, and respect the Precious Blood of Our Lord?
My favourite feeling that I get when thinking about the Precious Blood is the knowledge and comforting thought of His presence. At Mass before Communion, I find His presence as an enveloping, calming, and loving emotion. It is a feeling that even if I trip or stumble and sprawl head first, He will be there to catch me and lift me up. After I have received Communion, I kneel and let myself be taken over by His overpowering, overwhelming presence in the bread and wine. He has entered me; His blood has entered my body. I feel now that I have been given the strength, courage, peace needed for another week. I know what the next step is and where to find the next ladder rung. He has given me peace by His presence.
The last final feeling that fills my heart is pride. Not to be proud but pride. The definition of proud focuses on a sense of valuing oneself, being honoured, pleased, or even arrogant. Pride on the other hand is more often associated with achievements, qualities, or positions. After Communion, I watch the priest clean up. He wipes everything down. I feel pride surge through me. Pride in the Church and the things we have come through, pride in in our community and the relationships that have been formed, pride in my God, pride in my faith, pride in the wondrous Precious Blood of my Lord.
The future may be bright, or it may be not. Either way we can all remember, respect, and rely on the Precious Blood of Christ.
— Jacob Klaponski
Elementary – First Place
A Small Brown Bird, a Man, and the Precious Blood
Once there lived a small plain brown bird. This little bird lived in a beautiful garden called Gethsemane. Other birds in the garden had beautiful feathers or sweet voices to boast about. The dove with his pure snow-white feathers, the rooster who greets the sun every day with his song, and the owl who watches over the garden during the night. But for this little bird, oh no, he had nothing to boast about. All he had was his dull brown feathers and small black eyes.
One day a Man entered the garden and prayed. When night fell, soldiers came to the garden and arrested the Man. The little bird was terrified and too scared to follow them. With the dawn came his courage. The little bird flew all around the city, but he could not find the Man who had been praying in the garden. Now exhausted, the little brown bird flew back to the garden, where a bunch of birds were talking. He flew closer to hear what they were saying.
“I also saw him,” an old rooster was saying. “They brought him before a large crowd that condemned him to death. Can you imagine that?”
“Too true, too true,” an owl continued. “He took the cross that they gave him willingly and carried it. But it was so heavy that he fell under its weight. Shortly after, he saw his mother watching, poor man.”
The group continued to talk of how another man had helped him carry his cross, but even then he fell twice more. Also how a woman wiped his bleeding face with a cloth. Oh, how the woman wept! Lastly they talked of how at that very moment they were tearing his clothes off him.
The little bird flew as fast as his wings would fly to find the Man. When he finally arrived, the Man had been nailed to the cross. The little bird looked into the Man’s eyes and somehow knew what the Man was saying. For his eyes seemed to be saying, “Little bird, please bring me the cup that you will find over on that rock. Bring it here.” The little bird found the cup and brought it to the Man.
The Man directed him to fill the cup with his blood till it was brimming with the Man’s blood. As he did, some of the Man’s blood spilled over the edge and onto the bird’s breast, turning the feathers red with the blood. The Man told the bird to carry the cup to a high mountain and place it on the altar that he would find there. The little bird flew to the mountain and gently placed the cup full of the Man’s precious blood on the altar. There he stayed for three days and nights, for he could not bear to leave.
On the third day the Man appeared out of nowhere. He stood at the altar, picked up the cup, and held it up. Then he placed the chalice on the altar once more and turned his gaze on the little bird and smiled. He held his hand out and the little bird landed on his palm.
“Well done,” he said, and at once the little bird understood. Then the Man reached out and with one finger stroked the little bird’s breast.
“My little friend,” he said, ‘‘Thank you. I hope you will always wear my precious blood with pride.” The little robin bowed down, and with that he stood and began to fly away. A few seconds later, he turned and looked back. He watched as the Man and the altar disappeared, leaving the chalice floating in mid-air, glimmering in the bright sunlight. Then it too disappeared. The little robin turned and flew away, his heart full of joy.
— Sarah Klaponski
Elementary – Second Place
Precious Blood of Christ
I am a Roman soldier, and today I became a child of God. Despite being tough, strong, and obedient, I fell into God’s hands. Let me tell you how it happened.
Today we were ordered to crucify a man even though he had not done anything wrong. This man’s name was Jesus Christ, and he performed miracles like healing the sick and opening the eyes of the blind. Oh! And raising people from the dead.
We were afraid of him because of the things we heard. The priests and the teachers of the Law felt threatened because he was saying he was the son of God! So we were ordered to flog him and crucify him. Even though I am not a soldier who whips people, I could still see him getting whipped and imagined the pain he was in. I sort of felt bad for him but then reminded myself I was not a Jew.
I was assigned to guard him as he carried his cross up the hill to where he would die. As I walked beside him the crowd spat on him and mocked him. He fell three times. I eventually pulled someone out of the crowd, who I learned later is named Simon of Cyrene, to help.
When we arrived at the top of the hill, I started to have some regrets about what we were doing. I was questioning what this man had done wrong and why we were torturing and killing him.
Then we were ordered to nail him to the cross that he carried. Seeing this man in agony was really hard to bear, but I had to be tough. After we finished nailing him to the cross, we left him there to hang. After about three hours he shouted, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do.” Then he died.
Another soldier and I were ordered to break the legs of the crucified but when I came to Jesus he was already dead, so I pierced his side with my spear. Immediately his Precious Blood and water flowed out and opened my eyes spiritually. At that moment I realized that he was truly the son of God. It was a truly amazing thing that this man had shed his blood for our sins.
I write now not as a Roman soldier but as a soldier for God.
— Gabriel Johnson
