Ever go to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles?
You see people waiting in line, bored, listless, hands in their pockets. They
slowly make their way forward. When they finally get what they came for, they
make a beeline for the parking lot. “There,” they think to themselves, “that
obligation of getting the car registered is done. Won’t have to come back here
again hopefully for another year or two.”
A lot of people have the same attitude
and appearance when they receive communion at Mass (including the part about
not coming back for another year or two). They wait in line, bored, listless,
hands in their pockets. They slowly make their way forward. When they finally
get what they came for, they make a beeline for the parking lot.
Most of us in the pews can’t quite see
what happens at Communion. But in talking to a few priests and deacons,
apparently the manner in which many people receive the Eucharist is downright
dreadful. It seems our parishes have an epidemic of irreverence.
Some people hold out their hand to
receive the host with all the enthusiasm of a guy waiting at a bus stop
checking to see if it just started to rain.
Some people snatch the host from the
priest or deacon’s hand like they were taking a number at the deli counter. You
almost expect them to stand off to the side waiting for their number to be
called and then order a pound of liverwurst.
Some people commit gross violations,
such as waiting until they return to the pew before consuming the host, or even
worse, breaking it in pieces and sharing it with young children who have not
had their First Communion yet.
But it’s really not so much a problem of
irreverence. It’s a problem of ignorance. Receiving Communion has become a rote
ritual for many Catholics, similar to a trip to the DMV, because we’ve
forgotten what is present in the Eucharist—or rather, WHO is present.
Most of us haven’t heard a detailed
explanation of the Church’s doctrine of the Real Presence of Christ in the
Eucharist since CCD class in the 4th grade. And I don’t know about you, but
when I was in the 4th grade, I had the attention span of a cocker spaniel
puppy. (Actually, that’s an insult to cocker spaniel puppies—my attention span
was much worse.)
Anyway, let’s just say it’s been a long
time since the average Catholic was taught the bread and wine are truly transformed
into the body and blood, soul and divinity, of Jesus. It’s not symbolic; it’s
not merely a remembrance ceremony. It is truly Jesus in the flesh.
How can this happen, you ask? Well, it’s
a divine, supernatural miracle. If we’re Catholic, we already believe in
miracles: the Virgin Birth, the Resurrection, the Red Sox winning the World
Series, etc. We believe miraculous things are possible when God causes them to
happen. Just look in the mirror. Your very existence is a supernatural miracle.
Of course, some folks look rather super, while the rest of us look a little too
natural.
We believe the bread and wine truly
become the body and blood of Jesus. Now, we don’t believe this because it
sounds nice, or because some Church leader tells us it’s true. We believe it
because Jesus Himself clearly taught that it’s true. It really makes all the
difference in the world.
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