Receiving the Gift: Holy Communion, Tradition and Charity

It is extraordinary how Christians can find so much to argue about when it comes to the finer points of liturgy – language, vestments, posture etc.  Yes, it is really important to give of our best in divine worship and to pay attention to the details – we are responding to a magnificent invitation to sit at the Lord’s Table. However, let’s not forget that it is the Lord’s table and not our own.  It is surely good to follow tradition while being open to adaptation and innovation where initiated or permitted by legitimate authority.

More than a little controversy has erupted in recent times on the esoteric fringes of the online Catholic world where individuals take it upon themselves to pontificate on matters of liturgy. Should we receive Holy Communion on the tongue or in our hands? What is the history of practice in this regard?  Should there be room for diversity?  Opinions multiply and, in the meantime, many ‘do their own thing’. A sense of proportion and, not infrequently, a sense of charity is missing.

The call I did not expect

St Andrew's Church, Westland Row, Dublin

On this day, Saturday 23 August 1980, I made the following entry in my diary:

It was a sunny, warm day. By mid-afternoon I left the meeting feeling very fed up and incapable of continuing on with this way of life. On my way home, by bicycle, I stopped in Westland Row to pray in Saint Andrew's RC Church. I simply went in, genuflected and knelt down and started to pray as I looked towards the tabernacle. I did not stay very long.

The entry is significant because for 7 years prior to that date I had lived as a self-proclaimed atheist.  I had stopped religious practice in the Autumn of 1973. This was a rather unusual step in so far as most people of my age-group maintained some degree of outward religious practice even if not that frequent. 

There is, perhaps, a germ of personal hope in recounting this personal story because it seems to me that the widely adopted option of disowning belief (or simply declaring ‘I am not religious’) which seems to more or less the norm nowadays among millennials or Gen Z persons may not be sustainable in the very long-run. What I am trying to say here, in plain English is that:

Why special vestments?

 

Question: Why do priests wear vestments at Mass?
Answer:  For persons not familiar with Catholic ritual and practice the sight of priests or ministers wearing colourful robes and vestments may seem puzzling, if not quaint.  What has any of this to do with what is going on, one may ask?  The wearing of vestments is symbolic – it represents and signifies something sacred and set apart.  The priest acts ‘in the person of Christ’ (‘in persona Christi’) and not only leads the prayers but becomes a sacramental sign of Christ in the mystery of his death and resurrection.  The focus is not on the priest so much as on Christ who offered himself once for all on Calvary. In the Eucharist the fruits and graces of that one sacrifice are made present and applied to us.
Each liturgical season is associated with different colours so that, for example, in Ordinary Time (from Pentecost to Advent as well as immediately before Lent) the vestments as well as the altar cover and frontal as well as  the hanging lectern cloth are usually green.  During Advent and Lent, purple is used while red is used on feast days of the apostles, martyrs or at Pentecost. White is used on the great feasts of the Lord, on Marian feasts and on many solemnities and saints' days.

‘The shortest and safest way to Heaven’

Introducing young children to Eucharistic devotion as well as attendance at Sunday Mass is a wonderful gift that parents can make.  Communities ought to support families and children in facilitating this. After all, schools are known to introduce children to practices of mindfulness (and I have no issue with this). Why should we not also introduce children, in age-appropriate and carefully guided ways, to eucharistic prayer and adoration?

St Pope Pius X (1835-1914) whose feast day is today was instrumental in opening up reception of holy communion to children from the age of around 7.  He is associated with two reforms in particular:

• Frequent reception of holy communion - provided they were in the state of grace and approached with the right intention.
• Restoration of the age for First Communion to the age of reason (about seven years old).

The early Church commonly admitted children to Holy Communion, a practice that continued for many centuries and is still maintained in the Eastern Catholic Churches. Pope Pius rejected the idea that children needed advanced theological knowledge before receiving the Eucharist. He saw the Eucharist as the primary means of union with Christ.

A famous idea associated with Pius X is that the Eucharist is: ‘the shortest and safest way to Heaven.’  His reforms helped overcome lingering attitudes that discouraged frequent Communion due to scruples and fear. He opened his 1910 encyclical, Quam singulari, as follows:

The Eucharistic kiss

St Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) did not write a systematic treatise devoted exclusively to the Eucharist in the way that later theologians would do. Bernard’s approach to the Eucharist is contemplative, mystical and unitive.  We can gain some insight into his approach by immersing ourselves in the monastic spirituality of the Benedictine family of which the Cistercians were a new development from the 12^th Century.  For the early Cistercians, and broadly within the Benedictine monastic tradition of Bernard's time, the focus was on a living relationship with Christ through Scripture, the liturgy and the sacrament. 
  In his Sermons on the Song of Songs, he uses the language of desire, intimacy and union between the disciple and Jesus.

For Bernard, Christianity was essentially a relationship with Christ. The Eucharist was not just a sacred object or ritual but a privileged meeting with the Bridegroom of the soul.   In one of his sermons he quotes the Song of Songs:

"Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth.”

Looking to the rock from which we were hewn

Sunday 23 August 2026

Lectio Divina:*

Isaiah 22:19-23 Psalm 138(137) Romans 11:33-36 Matthew16:13-20

(See also Mark 8:27-33 and Luke 9:18-22)

Meditatio:

 ‘Look to the rock from which you were hewn, and to the quarry from which you were dug. (Isaiah 51:1)

Commentary:

Every so often we may stop and wonder; stare and think; appreciate and move on.  The gospels contain one such ‘stop and wonder’ moment when Jesus asks what seems like a very simple question. It ran something like this:

I have been with you some time. We have had great times together and we have had hard times together. I never promised you that it would be easy.  You heard my call and you followed me.  Others did likewise.  News about us spread throughout the country. Some said I was a great prophet – even the greatest, others said I was a trouble maker and a fraud while others, still, said I was from the Evil One.  But, you – what do you think?  Who do you say I am? Why are you still following me? Who am I to you?

For today on this God-given Sunday, we are asked the same question.  ‘Who is Jesus Christ for you?’ ‘What does Jesus Christ mean for you today?’ ‘Does it matter?’ ‘What difference does Jesus make to my life today?’

Hitting rock bottom and meeting the risen Christ in the Eucharist

The venerable, Matt Talbot (1856-1925) came to be known as a holy man after his death in 1925.  (My late mother told me that she remembered, as a child, when her father read out a piece from the daily newspaper that a man had been found dead in a laneway in Dublin with chains on his body).

Matt transitioned from severe alcoholism at a very young age to living a holy life entirely devoted to prayer, daily Mass, long hours before the Blessed Sacrament, frequent confession and work. He admitted that from the time of his early teens to his late twenties, each day revolved around thoughts of how to obtain alcohol.

One account of his turning point at the rock bottom of his life at the age of 28 is as follows (The Eucharistic Devotion of Venerable Matt Talbot):

As Matt lay there, he had hit rock bottom. As he turned to God, he begged for the grace to overcome his addiction. As the faithful began to arrive for the early morning Mass, they were disgusted to see a drunk lying on the church doorsteps. What they did not realize was the miracle of grace taking place.