Life Lines

The Bonds of First Holy Communion

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A few years ago, my upstate New York parish switched from the old-fashioned style of first Holy Communion—the kind where entire classes line up and file into the church and sit together as a group—to a more community-focused approach. These days, starting in late April through May, any and every Mass could and often does have first communicants and their families celebrating the sacrament. Sometimes it may be just one child; other times it could be three or five or 15.

At first I didn’t really like it. OK, truth be told, I hated it. I longed for yesteryear, my year, when girls in elaborate dresses and veils—wearing white gloves, even!—and boys in dark blue suits and tiny clip-on ties, walked side-by-side into church on one special day.

Although I’ve been warming up to the new approach slowly as it has changed with each of my children, I realized last weekend, as five children stood at the front of the church to be introduced by name at the start of Mass, that I was a true convert. I couldn’t stop smiling, not only at how adorable they looked, but by what it meant for the rest of us. And as parents and siblings joined their first communicants and received the sacrament together, standing in small clusters around the altar, I recognized the little domestic churches there within our larger church.

Every time, no matter how many I attend in one season, I find myself tearing up at the sight of these beautiful little souls who are beginning a journey and for the families who still find it important to ensure that their children receive First Eucharist no matter what life may bring down the road.

Maybe I’m just getting overly sentimental in my old age, but I think seeing first sacraments, whether it’s a baptism or first Communion on a Sunday morning or a wedding on a Saturday afternoon, reminds us of our own journey, calls us back for a moment to a time when we, too, made those same commitments, and forges a bond between us and them—those people who appear to be strangers but are, in fact, our brothers and sisters.

So, I have to give my pastor credit for changing things up and reminding us that the sacraments aren’t a private moment to be captured by overly zealous grandparents and aunts and uncles on video or iPhones, but rather communal moments meant to remind all of us that the path we walk, we walk together and that what’s more important than an impressive entrance is for these children to look out and see a community of people smiling back at them, joyful at the sight of new life in our old Church.

Chances are that if there were one or two first Communion Masses at my parish, I would avoid them. Too long, too crowded, too chaotic. But now I look forward to this season and watching families taking that next step. And I remember my own first Communion back in the dark ages with fondness, recognizing that while everything has changed on the outside, nothing has changed at the core.

We still receive Jesus, the same Jesus, no matter how old or young we are, whether in our hand or on our tongue, whether in a suit or in blue jeans. Pope Francis reminds us that Communion is not a reward for the good, but nourishment for all, both the weak and strong, and that it “leads us to solidarity with others.”

Today’s families are up against a barrage of things that vie for their attention, their resources and their time. Thank God so many are still bringing their children to our parishes to receive the sacraments. It’s up to the rest of us to welcome them so that they continue to come back and be lifted up by their Church family and nourished by the only bread that can satisfy a hungry heart.

Mary DeTurris Poust is the director of communications for the Diocese of Albany and the author of six books on Catholic spirituality.   

Visit her at at: www.notstrictlyspiritual.com.

She will be leading a Food & Faith pilgrimage to Italy in May 15-26, 2016 to mark the Holy Year of Mercy. Information: www.YearofMercyPilgrimage.com.