Jesus in the Eucharist

By MARY DeTURRIS POUST

Olivia made her First Communion last weekend, which means that aside from worrying about finding the perfect white dress, we spent a lot of time talking about what Communion is and how to go about receiving the Body and Blood of Christ. Olivia was getting those same lessons at school every day, but it is in the home-the "domestic church" that we so often hear about-that the first and often the most powerful and lasting lessons about God and faith are taught.

Of course, explaining the Eucharist to a 7-year-old is not easy. Then again, explaining the Eucharist to just about anyone, regardless of age, isn't really easy. It is a complex reality that requires more than a good religious education lesson; it requires real faith. I think about how many times various secular reporters got that teaching wrong when writing about the recent papal visit, and it makes me wonder if maybe we all shouldn't take a refresher course on the Eucharist.

Sometimes, as I'm traipsing up to receive Communion, trying to keep children in line, it occurs to me that if we humans could truly grasp-I mean fully, completely grasp- what is happening when stand before the altar to receive Communion, we wouldn't stand at all. We would be prostrate on the ground, so humbled and awed by the gift of Jesus in the Eucharist. And yet, we stand, or slouch, or shuffle our way up the aisle. It's not because we don't care but because we are human, and it is awfully hard for us humans to wrap our minds around God's gift of himself, first in Jesus who lived and died on earth, and then in Jesus who gives himself to us again and again every time we receive Communion.

I have to admit that there is something to be said for the old ways. We knelt down. We didn't touch the Eucharist. An altar server held a paten under our chins so there was no danger of the host dropping onto the floor. Maybe those ways were too stringent for some, but they certainly reinforced that what we were about to do was something worthy of an extra dose of care and respect and reverence.

That being said, I receive Communion in my hand because that is what makes me most comfortable, but it is a choice I know must come with some careful thought and even more careful actions-like if I'm holding Chiara and know that I cannot possibly receive the host in my hands in a reverent manner with a squirming 2-year-old in my arms. So on those days, I receive on the tongue. But even with the best of intentions, I realize that I'm a long way from the ideal.

One week, as we were sitting in church, we saw a teenager walk away from the priest with the host in her hand, carrying it back toward her pew instead of consuming it on the spot. She dropped it on the floor and just kept walking. Another woman went over, picked it up and brought it to the pastor. For me, that moment, where the Eucharist seemed to be worth less than a penny dropped on a sidewalk, was a stark and sad reminder of just how far we have to go in truly understanding this teaching that is the absolute core of our faith. Maybe we all need to go back to square one and learn the lesson like a 7-year-old: This is not like Jesus; this is Jesus. We hear it, we know it, but do we get it?

As Olivia approached the altar to receive Communion last Sunday, she held out her hands carefully, so intent on what was about to happen. I found myself longing to recapture just a little of that childlike awe and wonder because, no matter how often we receive the sacrament, this is one ritual that should never become routine.

To contact Mary DeTurris Poust, visit www.marydeturrispoust.com.