On this Sunday in Catholic parishes throughout the world, we highlight in a very special way the real presence of Jesus in Holy Communion. Formally it is called the Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, or, as others call it, Corpus Christi Sunday. The Constitution of the Sacred Liturgy from Vatican II teaches that all grace flows to and from the Eucharist celebrated on Sunday. If all we do this Sunday is worship the real presence of Christ in the consecrated bread and wine, and nothing more, then Holy Communion is nothing more than an inanimate sacred object. To illustrate this I would like to recall three Holy Communion stories from my life.
When I received Holy Communion for the first time, I was taught that Holy Communion was so sacred that to chew the host we received was a damnable offense against God. This was problematic for many of us, because we had to fast from food and water three hours before receiving Holy Communion. Often times our mouths were so dry it was hard to dissolve the host because we had no saliva with which to dissolve it. The host would stick to the roof of our mouth as we desperately tried to work up enough saliva to dissolve it.
We could never touch the consecrated host, that would damn us to Hell forever. Only a priest could touch a consecrated host. To receive Holy Communion unworthily would damn us as well. When I would go forward to receive Holy Communion as a child, I do so with great caution, with great fear, and with great reverence.
Story Number One: It was the year 1961, one year after I had received my first Holy Communion. At St Andrew’s Catholic School, we would go to Mass on Wednesday morning prior to the beginning of school classes. We were all hungry (we brought jelly sandwiches to eat after Mass), stomachs rumbling throughout Mass from hunger. One morning, I knelt at the communion rail to receive Holy Communion. As the priest came to me, I stuck out my tongue and he placed the Holy Communion on my tongue. To my great horror, the host fell off my tongue and on to my arm. The priest told me to stay where I was and NOT to move. He finished giving Holy Communion to the others, washed the sacred vessels (chalice and ciborium), ended Mass. All this time, I knelt frozen at that communion rail, barely breathing out of feat that if I moved or did anything to disturb the host precariously balanced on my arm, I would be sent to Hell forever. When the priest finally came back to me after Mass, he lifted the host from my arm, placed it in a ciborium than scrubbed my arm vigorously with steel wool to make sure that all sacred particles of the host were safely removed. It was with a great sigh of relief that I left the church that morning pulled back from I perceived was the dark chasm of perdition into which I thought for sure I would fall. It was very clear that my understanding of Eucharist was an object to be revered, feared, and adored.
In the summer of 1980, I began my study in the Masters in Pastoral Studies program (MAPS for short) at the College of St Thomas. My major focus of study was sacred liturgy. I had a class entitled, Music and Movement in Liturgy, with Fr Mike Joncas (the same Mike Joncas who composed “On Eagles Wings”). Mike had finished his Masters in Sacramental Theology from Notre Dame, and had begun his doctoral work in Rome in Sacramental Theology. He is incredibly intelligent, and a remarkable professor. He also demands much from his students. He gave us one huge project to do for the class. We were to attend the worship services of other churches and religions, Christian or non-Christian. We were to experience their liturgies and analyze the sacred actions taking place, and then write a thirty page paper with annotated footnotes about our liturgical experience.
One of the churches I chose to visit was the Baptist Church in New Prague. At the time, there were four churches in New Prague: St Wenceslaus Catholic Church, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church (ALC at that time), the Alliance Missionary Church, and, the Baptist Church.
I chose to go to the 7 pm Sunday night service at the Baptist Church. New Prague was so small enough at that time, that everyone pretty much knew everyone in town. My understanding was that the majority of Baptist services were strictly focused on sacred scripture and rarely had the reception of communion. As I entered the church that Sunday evening I was warmly greeted at the door. The men and women saw to my every need. I felt welcomed and they saw me to my place in the pew. Of course, being a small town, they knew where I lived and that I was the music director at St Wenceslaus Catholic Church. I explained to them that I was there to worship God with them that evening. And, truthfully, because of their warm welcome and friendliness, I felt one with them.
Wouldn’t you know it, that evening was the one evening they had a communion service. Their pastor gave a good sermon on the scripture for that evening, we sang hymns, and then, they brought out the tray with little glasses of grape juice, and communion in the form of small squares of bread. The minister explained very clearly that communion was a symbol and NOT a sign (in other words, it was not the real presence of Jesus in the bread and wine), then began to read the biblical passage from Paul’s 1st Letter to the Corinthians, chapter eleven. Looking at me directly, he read the passage that those who received the body of Christ and drank unworthily of the blood of Christ, ate and drank their own damnation. I nodded back at him, letting him know I got the hint, and as the tray of grape juice and the bread came to me, I passed it on to the person next to me, out of respect for their beliefs and their traditions about the Eucharist. What stood out for me so clearly in their worship is that while the Eucharist was not the wine and bread that people drank and ate, the Eucharist was found in the communio, the community of the people, gathered for worship.
My last story is Christmas 2011. From the time of my first hip replacement in mid June, 2011, I had not been able to get to Mass. Within a week of the hip replacement I got a MRSA infection that did not go away. I had to have that hip removed while the doctors tried to find an antibiotic that would kill MRSA but not kill me. It took them over 5 1/2 months to do that. In the meantime, I was confined to my home, hopping on one leg while using a walker to get from my bed to bathroom to my chair to bed … you get the picture. When I did venture out of the house, it was in a wheel chair to the car. All these long months from June through the end of February I was only able to go to church once and receive Holy Communion.
It was Christmas Eve. My wonderful wife, Ruthie, said, “Let’s go to the 6 pm Christmas Eve Mass. I will push you there in the wheelchair.” Fortunately, there was very little snow and the temperature was quite mild for our part of Minnesota. She pushed me in that wheelchair the two blocks to church. We sat in the wheelchair section of the church, up front. The music, the liturgy, was all very wonderful. At communion, the communion distributor came to me and gave me Holy Communion, the first time in over 6 months. As I received Holy Communion that night I felt in communio not only with the Body and Blood of Jesus that I received, but in communio with the Body of Christ gathered around me in the people at Mass, and especially in communio with my beloved Ruth who pushed me to Mass those two long blocks, and then, pushed me home, again. That Christmas was probably one of the most happy and most meaningful Christmases of my life. Holy Communion was not the static, inanimate sacred object of my childhood to be adored, received and feared. Holy Communion was not just present in the community gathered for worship. Holy Communion was the presence of Jesus Christ in the Holy Communion received by the community and then made present by the community in how they lived what they had received.
This Solemnity of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ must be opportunity for all of us to expand our understanding of the words, Holy Communion. If the Eucharist is the font to which all grace flows and from which all grace flows, then it is paramount that the grace we receive in Holy Communion be poured out into world so that all the world can be in communio with Jesus Christ. To truly honor and celebrate the real presence of Jesus in the consecrated bread and wine, we cannot hoard it like some commodity or just deposit it in a sacred bank vault (the tabernacle) to be adored. We must share the grace we receive with all! In this way, it is not only in church that we give honor and respect toward the tabernacle in which Holy Communion is reserved. We will honor and respect the sacred presence of Christ in the people we encounter in the world.
