When teaching religious studies, I heard some students say that their parents didn’t teach them any religious beliefs or practices because they thought their children should decide later in life if they want a religious practice. Rather than criticize the parenting they received, I wondered if these students were also allowed to decide when they went to bed at night, whether or not they would go to school, or wash, or not cuss, or many, many other behaviors. I could not understand how a parent could teach their child many behaviors and values—except those related to religious practice. For me, nothing is more important than trying to understand why I am here and who put me here on earth.
This classroom memory came to mind as I prepared for this weekend’s first communion ceremony. This is the weekend we welcome young parishioners as they make their first communion. They will experience what occurs with the sacraments we receive. Namely, as said by Father of the Church Saint Augustine, a sacrament is “a visible sign of an invisible reality.”
Within our parish family, our tradition is to teach our young ones the importance of attending Mass and “going to communion.” For young people (and even older ones), it can be confusing to hear that we are consuming “the body and blood of Christ.” When I made my first communion, all I could think of was my eating body parts. Years later when attending graduate school at Indiana University, a fellow grad student asked me to explain the “ritual cannibalism” that Catholics do at their Masses. Both my thoughts on this topic when I was a child, and the thinking of my fellow grad student were misguided, but they are still owned by some who are not familiar with our tradition.
One way to think of communion at Mass is to think of our Thanksgiving dinner. This is appropriate because an alternative word for Communion is “Eucharist”—a Greek word meaning “to give thanks.” Each time we receive Communion we are giving thanks to God for all that we have, and for being a God who invites us to this “candlelight dinner.” The low lights dilate our pupils and visually we absorb all that is visible on this special occasion. Rooted in the religious history of Israel (Old Testament) and Christianity (New Testament), this sacred gathering is composed of people invited by God to draw upon the Trinity for what will sustain us in our everyday lives.
At this time, we speak to God (prayer) and sing (“singing is praying twice”) with others who have likewise been invited by God to this unique meal. On the night before he died, having exhausted what he could do with words, Jesus took bread and wine and told his family and friends to do what he was doing. Every time they would gather this way, he promised to be with them. As a famous theologian said, Jesus gave this gift of Communion or Eucharist as a kind of “kiss” to those who were there in his name. The consecrated bread and wine (visible signs along with the table, priest, people, candles, prayer books, scripture, etc.) become the invisible reality of God’s presence.
Here’s another way of expressing the invisible reality of God’s Eucharistic presence. Poetically stated, one could tell their loved one:
“You’re my London. You’re my Paris. You’re my Athens. You’re my Rome. You’re my Boston. You’re my Denver. You’re my old Kentucky home.”
One is saying to his beloved that she embodies the best of the Old World and the best of the New. In the end, however, she’s the hearth at which his heart rests and where he finds warm comfort. He’s NOT saying she is the old buildings, busses, sewers, and dirty streets of big European and American cities. Rather, she embodies the greatness, glory, grandeur, and wonders of those places. In her, he need not go to any of those places because he has their equal in her.
And so it is with the presence of the risen Lord in the Eucharist. One is in communion with the one who feeds him where he most hungers and assures him of God accompanying him down every road he walks. The risen Lord is the real presence of God in whatever he faces. The consecrated bread reminds communicants that we have new manna in the deserts of our depression, discouragement, lost paths, and tearful trials. The Risen Lord is the new lamb at our sacred meal—the lamb of God which is our Eucharist.
But this understanding is a partial one—one that can be expanded in many directions. However, one key element of this topic is what we call the “Mass” itself. The word is related to a Latin word meaning “sent.” When the community of Catholics finishes their sacrament, and when they have witnessed the many visible signs that refer to an invisible reality, they are IDEALLY ready to leave the special gathering—and be “sent” into the world as apostles.
This idea reminds me of a little boy I baptized and to whom I gave his first communion. When his mom knelt with him at prayer one night (he was 7 years old), she heard him ask God in prayer: “Help me when I go on patrol tomorrow.” Not knowing what he was referring to, she asked him what he meant when referring to the “patrol.”
He replied that at lunchtime on the playground, he goes on patrol to see if anyone is alone and without any friends. He said he goes to that person and says he’ll be that person’s friend.
When I heard this true-life story, I was touched in learning that the little boy to whom I gave the consecrated host at his first Communion—had grasped the message of the Gospel, and the purpose of sacraments at his young age. All Catholics and all Christians are called by God to be “on patrol” in search of the lost or the lonely—to bring them into a supportive community gathered at the table of the Eucharist.
Doctor of the Church, St. John Chrysostom, spoke of Communion in the following terms:
Do you wish to honor the Body of Christ? Do not ignore him when he is naked. Do not pay him homage in the temple clad in silk, only then to neglect him outside where he is cold and ill-clad. He who said: “This is my Body” is the same who said: “You saw me hungry and you gave me no food,” and “Whatever you did to the least of my brothers you did also for me.” What good is it if the Eucharistic table is overloaded with gold chalices when your brother is dying of hunger? Start satisfying his hunger and then with what is left you may adorn the altar as well.
If you read the bulletin, let the office know or email yes or no at: mfs@wheeling.edu