Listen Up, Buttercup, We’ll Do Holy Communion By My Rules

Let’s set the scene. Imagine that you have invited over a new friend for dinner. You prepare your house, working to make it welcoming and warm. You fix one of your most special meals. You hope that they find your home inviting.

The doorbell rings and there is your new friend. You open the door, invite them in and politely ask that they remove their shoes. It’s one of your house rules. Your friend says back to you, “Nah, I’m not gonna do that. It’s not a rule at my house.”

You’re a little taken aback, but you try not to make things too awkward so you decide to drop it. You welcome them into the kitchen and start to set the table. Once the food is all laid out, you invite your friend to sit down at the table with you and your family. Just as you are about to engage in conversation, your friend pulls out their phone and proceeds to scroll through their social media feed. They start laughing to themselves over some stupid meme and they turn around their phone to show you. You half-heartedly laugh. You ask them to put the phone down and explain that you have a rule of no electronics at the table but they say to you, “I always get my phone out when I eat. I don’t have that rule at my house. I don’t see electronics at the table as a big problem.”

Now you just want them to leave. The night has gone all wrong. You invited this person over to your home, but all they’ve done is disrespected your home and your rules.

You may be thinking to yourself right now, “What a scenario! But, it’s pretty unrealistic. Nobody is that rude.”

Oh really? I beg to differ.

When my husband and I were first married the number one thing we fought about was what religion to be–I was Protestant, he was Catholic. We came up with this compromise where we would go to a Protestant church one week and a Catholic church another week. That got old really quick and it always ended with us fighting as soon as the service was over. Though I was very against the Catholic Faith, I finally told my husband that we could just stick with the Catholic Church. I could get what I wanted from it which was music and a good homily. Since he was so dead set on staying Catholic, I figured it was the best setup we could arrange to keep the peace.

As we started going to Mass, I became more and more annoyed that I couldn’t go up and receive Communion. My husband told me that I couldn’t because I wasn’t Catholic. I was appalled by this.

“Christ is for EVERYBODY! All are welcome at His table!” I yelled at my husband.

“That’s true, but you aren’t Catholic and you don’t believe what we believe.”

Deep in my heart, I was furious. How dare they. How dare the Catholic Church tell me, a baptized Christian, I couldn’t receive Communion. Who cared about their stupid rules? I’d show them.

The next Sunday, when it came time to go up for Holy Communion, I left the pew and got in line. My husband firmly said to me, “Amy, you cannot go up there.”

I hotly responded back, “They can’t tell me I can’t receive Communion.” I smugly walked right up to the priest, held out my hand, received the wafer, and stuck it in my mouth. Instantly, I regretted what I had done. I didn’t fully get why, but I did. Instead of feeling triumphant, I felt terrible. I tried hard not to let it show. The next week, though, I didn’t go up to receive.

I sat there in the pew and watched each person go up. I watched them bow and cross themselves. I wondered about it all. There was definitely a difference to me in how Catholics received Communion as compared to all the different Protestant churches I’d been in in my life. There was a reverence that I had never seen before. I started listening to the words that the priest said before Communion and I started watching him. It was curious to me that he bowed before a piece of flat bread. Why were we all on our knees when he held up the chalice and the bread? When he was done and he put the extras in the little box behind the altar, why did he and everyone else up there with him bow down?

I asked my husband. He told me that the priest turned the bread and wine into Christ’s Body and Blood and so since it is Christ up there on the altar, we bow in worship and reverence.

Say what?

This was news to me and something I couldn’t fully understand. Communion was purely symbolic, right? Where were these Catholics coming up with this belief?

Week after week, I sat in the pew and as I sat there pride started to melt away. The call of the Eucharist started to pull on me so heavily that I could no longer resist it.

Believe me, I had a lot to confess at my First Confession but it felt tremendously good. I will never forget the feeling of receiving my First Communion after I was Confirmed. It was so radically different from that time I had taken it before. This time, I felt peace, I felt warmth, I felt complete.

Since that time, I’ve grown even more in my understanding of the Eucharist and how it is the actual Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Savior. It is not symbolic. It means everything. I hate–absolutely hate–that I was ever so prideful to think that I could disregard the Catholic Church’s rules about Holy Communion. I mean, who the heck am I? It was not my place to go into a Catholic Church and apply my rules to them. All are welcome in a Catholic Church, but that does not mean that we can come in and be disrespectful. I have zero authority over such matters. Zero.

I’ve since learned that the Catholic Church is not keeping people from Holy Communion because they are trying to be rude or haughty. They are actually trying to protect people from committing a grave sin. If you are a person that does not agree with or believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, you are denying one of the most fundamental tenets of the Catholic Faith. If you have a mortal sin on your soul, you cannot receive the Holy Eucharist–this goes for Catholics and non-Catholics. It doesn’t matter if this hurts your feelings. What matters is that you are degrading Christ in the Eucharist to satisfy your own pride. A soul dead in sin is unworthy of receiving Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. St. Paul said, “So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.” 1 Corinthians 11:27

The truth is, Catholic Pilgrims, I lacked complete humility. In reality, I was telling God that I’d be receiving Him any old way I pleased, thank you very much. I didn’t like the Catholic Church’s rules, so I applied my own and in the process sinned a great sin. It still brings tears to my eyes when I think of how disrespectful I was to Our Lord. My actions all those years ago weren’t about loving Christ so much; it was all about rebellious pride and a hurt ego. I didn’t take the Eucharist because I just needed Communion so badly, I took it because the Church told me I couldn’t. No wonder I felt terrible. I had to learn that I don’t get to tell God how it’s going to be, I can only be obedient and respectful even when I don’t fully understand.

Christ said at the Last Supper, “This is My Body.” He did not say, “This is a symbol of My Body.” The belief in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist has been there since the beginning, but you don’t have to take my word for it.

Protestant historian J.N.D. Kelly has this to say about the early church: “Eucharistic teaching, it should be understood at the outset, was in general unquestioningly realist, i.e., the consecrated bread and wine were taken to be, and were treated and designated as, the Savior’s body and blood.”

The only way to approach Holy Communion, Catholic Pilgrims, is with a clean, humble, and grateful soul. The only appropriate response is to say, “Lord, I am not worthy for you to enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”