Jesus, Take Me With You!

A few months ago, while praying during Mass, as I gazed upon the crucifix after Communion, I found myself asking Jesus to take me with Him.  This is a variation of an old prayer from a few years ago, one of those things that spontaneously comes upon us, and we pray it even if we really don't understand what we are really asking in that moment.

This morning while meditating on the mysteries of the rosary, I suddenly understood, at least to some degree, of what I was asking that day, and as I continued to pray, it all began to make sense.  As always, God's timing is impeccable.

Jesus answered my prayer long before I ever prayed it.

When Jesus went down into the Jordan river, He took on His mission, giving his formal fiat, taking us and the sins of the whole world upon His shoulders. His baptism is symbolic of his acceptance of death, through which we must all descend, and his rising from the waters points to the resurrection.  As He took us with Him into the river, so, too must we die so that we can rise again with Jesus in the resurrection. 

That means that when Jesus went into the Jordan to be Baptized....He took me with Him.

When Jesus preached His Sermon on the Mount, He was speaking directly to me and telling me not to live only according to the minimum requirements, but to go deeper, sacrifice more, and become more and more human. 

When Jesus healed the lepers, restored the sight of the blind man, and exorcised demons, he tooke me with him in tow to show me that it's not actually about physical healing, but spiritual, and that's what He REALLY wants to offer. And so I went with Him into the Confessional so that I, too, could become a sign to the world of His mercy and forgiveness. 

When Jesus broke bread and gave thanks, when He washed the feet of the Apostles, He brought me with Him there, too, to reveal the beginning of the Mass and the origins of the ordained Priesthood, so that not only would I recognize the fulfillment of the Covenant when he died on the Cross the next day, but I would recognize God's own authority in His ministers, and the ongoing presence of Christ in the Mass and in all the Sacraments, especially the Holy Eucharist.

When Jesus prayed and wept in the Garden of Gethsemane, He took me with Him for He was not just weeping over my sin and those of the whole world, but He was fully entering into and taking on our own suffering so that He could weep WITH us and not just FOR us. 

When Jesus went before Pilate, He took me with him so that I, too, could choose to either wash my hands and walk away, or instead, become docile to His love and become the Cross that He carried for my salvation.

When Jesus was scourged at the pillar, He took me with him so that I would know the selflessness of love and the sacrifice that restores true dignity.

When Jesus was crowned with thorns, He took me with Him so that in his degradation, I would be brought to my knees, desiring to offer mercy to Mercy Himself, reaching out to remove the thorns He wore to fulfill the punishment for sin, only to find them piercing my own hands, drawing my own blood, helping me to enter into the suffering of my Savior.

When Jesus walked the road to Calvary, He took me with Him upon His own back, and only fell because I did and the weight of my sin was so heavy he condescended to fall even lower than I so that I would not be lost forever. 

When Jesus was nailed to the Cross, He took me with Him so that I would recognize the impact of sin not just on myself, but upon the world, for which He was willingly being sent to His innocent death.

When Jesus was lifted up on the Cross, He brought me with Him for He drew me into His embrace and gave me rest under the shadow of His wings, where I begged to remain, for I recognized the Cross as my only defense.

Yes, Jesus HAS taken me with Him, every bloody, painful, wretched, agonizing step of the way.  In spite of my obstinance, in spite of my rebellion, in spite of my willful disobedience.  He has taken me with Him and has not let me out of His sight, even when I tried to hide from Him. 

The price He paid for my redemption was so great that He would not, could not, let me go.  He chose instead to suffer in patience, knowing that my hardened and fickle heart could be softened, that His love could overcome my rebellion, and that one day, I might still have a chance to return to Him with all my heart, all my soul, and give Him my whole life.

He asks for nothing less. And I ask for nothing more.
*

Take me with you, Jesus.  Always.

Amen.

The Heart of Christ

This morning I pulled out the next book of the Liturgy of the Hours so that I would remember to begin using it tomorrow, Ash Wednesday.  

I opened it up and happened immediately upon a holy card; a picture of the Divine Child Jesus holding out His Sacred Heart in a gesture of offering.

It stopped me.  There He was…offering me His heart.  He does that every day. It made me think of the miracle of Lanciano, where the Holy Eucharist turned into flesh, which was studied and found to be cardiac muscle.  That is…heart muscle.

Do you realize what that means?  That every time we receive Holy Communion, we are taking the very heart of Christ into ourselves!  We are taking in the offering of love, symbolized by the heart itself…Himself.  Jesus gives Himself to us, fully. The source of blood, the source of life...the heart symbolizes all life, and it overflows with life, that WE might live.

What do we give Him in return?

I find it no coincidence that this image and these connections have been in my mind today - Shrove Tuesday. A day to examine ourselves and determine what we’re holding back from God.

Lent is a time to recognize what Our Lord has done for us, and see if somehow, we can take another step, offer more of ourselves to Him, or offer EVERYTHING to Him, just as He did for us. 

Jesus offers His very heart; are we willing to trust Him enough to offer our own, without reserve?  Completely abandoning ourselves to Him?

A phrase that has been going through my mind a lot of late is from John Paul II’s address to the youth at WYD 2000: 

 It is Jesus in fact that you seek when you dream of happiness. He is waiting for you when nothing else you find satisfies you; he is the beauty to which you are so attracted; it is he who provokes you with that thirst for fullness that will not let you settle for compromise; it is he who urges you to shed the masks of a false life; it is he who reads in your hearts your most genuine choices, the choices that others try to stifle...

And I think to myself…what ARE my most genuine choices?  My choices to sin? Or my choices that bring me closer to God?  To what end am I, as a human being, an adopted daughter of the King, directed?

What is my heart’s desire?  Really?

We can answer those questions during Lent. We can enter this desert, and perhaps allow Our Lord to reveal His heart to us…for us.  And maybe then, only then, will we be able to understand that what we truly, genuinely desire, is what He also desires for us.

Vespers this evening calls us to remember we are children, for in that innocence we will find Our Lord waiting.  Given the way I started my day, and the prayerful thoughts that have come to me throughout the various hours, I find that the Psalm-prayer and Antiphon are no mistake, but words to complete a little square in the quilt God has so artistically placed to represent His lesson for me today:

Psalm-prayer:

Lord Jesus, gentle and humble of heart, you declared that whoever receives a little child in your name receives you, and you promised your kingdom to those who are like children. Never let pride reign in our hearts, but may the Father's compassion reward and embrace all who willingly bear your gentle yoke.

Ant.  Unless you acquire the heart of a child, you cannot enter the kingdom of God. 

How do we acquire the heart of  a child?

All too often, we can't. We've forgotten what it's like to have such trust, such devotion, such abandonment.

So Christ offers us His own heart, seeing our deprivation, and unable, in His innocence, in His love, to allow us to be so impoverished.  In His Divine Childhood, he approaches us and gives us His most valuable possession..and asks us to make Him ours.

Because our hearts are stone, He comes to us gently, and offers us His own heart, beating furiously with the fire of love for us, and asks us to take it into ourselves, and share in His own Divine Life. 

Today, Jesus offers us His heart. How can we look into the joyful and trusting face of the Divine Child and refuse His selfless gift?  How can we fail to respond by offering our own?

*

Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me, a sinner. 

*

Live, Jesus, in our hearts....forever...

The darkness of night on campus surrounded me. Dew was settling upon the grass and the few cars that remained in the lots. The various Halls loomed silently, only a few windows glowing in those wee hours. No one was walking about...but me. Even my own shadow had taken a respite for the night.

I was making my rounds, from one dorm to the next, from St. Mary's Hall into Heffron, then to Griffon. Lasalle was next, then on to Hoffman, a building that had no public ghosts but often harbored carcasses of someone's pet.

The trek was short to the Chapel, and my key rattled in the lock as I turned the core, making sure it would lock when I closed it.

The Chapel was my favorite building and yet I passed through it quickly, thinking my professionalism must make it more holy. I hadn't been practicing my faith, but I wanted to be sure it was safe. I don't remember anymore if I genuflected...I think I did, out of habit, but I wasn't sure why.

But there was a Presence in the chapel. Even though I was alone, there was a sense of protection and..well...presence. I would shine my flashlight around, but always, turn towards the front, towards the tabernacle.

And always, there would be the sense of welcome, the invitation to remain. To be seated, or to kneel. Even to sit on the floor. Only to remain, for it was somehow...home.

Often, when I passed through the Chapel, my eyes would tear up and I'd wipe them away, savagely, having no time for emotion.

Even as I longed to remain, as I wanted to lie face-down on the floor, allowing the red plush carpet to absorb me, to gaze at the candle at the tabernacle...I went about my business.

And always, as I left, there was a sense of rupture. It was agony.

But I had to be about my rounds. I had to make the next call. My voice echoed in the chapel, and I was proud...I was doing my job. I was a good worker. The chapel was safe, and I knew I was Called...to make sure it was safe. This special refuge that I was locking up...it was safe. No one could get in.

Not even me, without the key.

I should have dropped the keys.

I should have remained.

I should have let the silence and the darkness of the chapel swallow me. At times, I did stop, and I turned towards the altar. I sat in a pew, in the silence, begging for mercy. Begging for help. Knowing Jesus was there, but not knowing how. Wishing I wasn't so alone, and paradoxically knowing I wasn't.

And then I would get up and flee into the lights of the quad, making sure the door was locked behind me. If I had remained, I would have been there all night. It scared me that I didn't want to be anywhere else, and so I ran away.

I couldn't seem to enter the welcoming Presence of the chapel without tears, and so it became my custom to rush through it. Not wanting to be disrespectful, even though I didn't know why that idea would come to me. Always saying a rare prayer while there.

It was the only darkness on campus that didn't threaten...and yet terrified me at a level I couldn't understand. For when I entered, I sensed love, and I didn't understand the source.

It was easier not to ask questions but instead, to flee.

But when I got back from Mexico, something was different. In the chapel, there were pamphlets, and some of them were for religious communities, and some of them were missionary. I read through them and looked at my options. I wanted to go back. Was I a missionary?

I rejected the ones that had to do with being a Sister. I'd looked around at the Brothers who ran my college, and their life wasn't attractive. I didn't want that..but I wanted to give. Everything.

Each time I passed through the Chapel, I would seek out the rack with the info, looking for something new. I would ask God for His help, loving the silence and the welcome, but too shy to remaine.

I was the elusive doe, the silent lamb. The shy fox.

But even now, I can look back, and remember the warm, enveloping darkness of the Chapel, the Presence of Christ, and wish I was there. I wish I had taken the time to remain, to forget about the schedule that existed only in my mind.

I wish I could lie face-down on the red carpet and offer myself to Our Lord, who waited for me there, who comforted me even in the seconds I took to pass through. Even though I was the least...He knew I was there, and tried to get my attention. And I ran away.

We used to pray, at every school gathering:

St. John Baptiste de la Salle.....pray for us!

Live, Jesus, in our hearts....FOREVER!

And so I continue to pray. And He answers, for even though I didn't realize He was with me, Jesus has never let go of my hand...or my heart.
*
May He live forever in your heart as well.
*

Be Still and Know That I Am God

The other morning I stopped into the Adoration Chapel to pray Morning Prayer. The chapel had a few people in it, all retired people, some maybe from the nearby assisted-living. When I stop in during the day, that's the usual "crowd", and it always makes me remember my p's and q's. For example...I feel like I have to be EXTRA quiet, and dress very properly. I know these people remember what it was like prior to Vatican II, and even when I walk in with capris and a nice top, I've caught a glimpse of disapproving stares. I don't belong to a rad-trad parish, but I DO know that we have a large number of very devoted Catholics. And maybe it's my own guilty concience if I wear shorts in the chapel, knowing that my outfit would not be tolerated in many churches in secularized Europe But I digress.

As I was praying the other day, a woman quickly came into the chapel, very reverent, and knelt, in very quick movements, but very reverently. She sat down in the row in front of me, the next chair over, and proceeded to quickly pull out a STACK of printed prayers and devotions. Every movement she made was done very quickly with a sense of almost desperate urgency.

I was kneeling and had my breviary open in front of me, reading quietly, occasionally stopping to digest some line or some other related thought popping into my head. Before she had come, the chapel had been so quiet, so peaceful...but suddenly this person appeared and....well...

She was a fidgiter.

Normally I'm not too disturbed by people coming and going in the chapel. I might look up, but that's my own hyper-vigilance bourne out from years of training and attitude. I'm not usually too bothered by these people and quickly can return to what I'm doing, even forgetting what or whom I saw.

But the fidgiters...they're a whole 'nuther story.

They're very devout, typically, excellent Catholics, know their faith or at least tend to seek more knowledge, and always...they are seeking greater devotion. These people (always women, in my observation) clearly love Jesus and are seeking greater union with Him. It's a wonderful thing, and I love these people. They're the backbone of the parish.

But they don't seem to know what it means to "Be still and know that I am God."

As I'd mentioned, the woman in question came in with a stack of prayers on various papers, and I think she had a few small booklets, too. As she was immediately in front of me and just to the side, I couldn't help but be distracted, no matter how much I tried to focus on my own conversation with our Lord.

She paged through her papers, pulled one and then another out, variously reading them through. Her movements were rapid, she was trying to be quiet, but it wasn't the noise that was distracting; it was the movement. The constant movement. She moved in and out of her row several times, likely for various devotions, only to return to her stack and go through it for the next thing, only to set that down, maybe go through her purse again for another leaflet, maybe finding it in another place.

I don't know what devotions she was trying to complete. All I knew was that her body language of worry and quickness intruded into my own prayer, and made me try even harder to shut it out, to realize I had to be willing to deal with others and their methods of prayers.

In moments like that, I try to remember what St. Therese of Lisieux said about the Sister with the rosary that constantly rattled against the pew. I know that I need to deal with this thorn in my side, and so, in the end, I'm not irritated, only distracted. There's no sin in distraction, only temptation.

The woman in question got out of her pew once again, knelt in the center aisle, crossed herself very quickly and irregularly, several times, and then returned to her seat, collected her things, and left the chapel, quickly, silently. And again..it wasn't that she was making noise. It was her constant movement that was distracting.

On Prayer

So let's talk about prayer a little bit, for this woman is not alone. A priest who was at my parish previously once gave a talk in which this behavior was addressed; he spoke of people who come to the chapel for Adoration, but they bring a stack of prayers and devotions. They don't remain still ; they are constantly in movement, offering their novenas and litanies and list of prayers that * must* be said. And then they leave.

He asked, "Where, in all that, have they had time to LISTEN to Jesus?"

I've taken his words to heart. Although I've never gone so crazy on devotions, the temptation has been there. I've found wonderful novenas, captivating litanies, several prayers applicable to my situation or the situations of others, and really....lots of things that could take up an hour or even a brief visit.

As it is, it's tempting to just drop into the chapel and let loose with my own complaints, supplications and demands. None of us is without a laundry-list of issues to bring to the foot of the cross.

But that's NOT what Adoration is about.

Sure, Our Lord invites us to bring our concerns, ask for help, petition on behalf of others, and pray our litanies that honor Him and His Mother and the Saints. Those prayers are important. But maybe it's even MORE important to just come to Him and sit at His feet, silently, allowing Him, for once, to speak to US. To love us. To be present with us, and help us to understand how to be present with Him.

Adoration is not about the nearly-obsessive compulsion to pray a thousand devotions, to "get through" them each time, no matter how many indulgences they carry. If we're only rushing from one prayer to the next, seeking one indulgence, then another, with a desperate neediness to complete the words in the time we have...that's NOT prayer. It's...words. It's EXACTLY what Jesus cautioned us AGAINST! The multiplication of words does not get us or others to heaven!

One Hail Mary, spoken deliberately and with devotion, is far more valuable than a thousand litanies spoken without a thought other than to get the words out in a specific period of time.

I love devotions, and many devotions draw us into contemplation. But not when we're praying one devotion while thinking about the next one we HAVE to complete during our "prayer time."

Compare it to this: You are going to visit a friend you highly respect and love dearly, more so than your own life. And so, when you visit them, you rush in, skip a calm "hello" in favor of rattling off a bunch of things you think this person needs to know. And as soon as you get through your list, you're off. In the meantime, your dear friend listens patiently, not able to get a word in edgewise, and then in exasperation watches you rush off, knowing that he has something to say to you that, for once, will give you some peace.

And the amazing thing...this friend will take this abuse over and over, as long as He needs to.

But what He really wants is a relationship with you.

Jesus appreciates the honor of your visit, the litanies, the intercessions, and WANTS to hear of your troubles. Even though He already knows you more intimately that you know yourself, He wants you to talk to Him about it. And He wants to respond to you. And sometimes, like any good friend, he wants to just spend time with you, even in silence.

There's nothing like companionable silence, where both understand one another and can simply exist together.

THAT is contemplation.

So many sincerely devout Catholics become so focused on what is written that they forget that prayer is relational and requires reception of the other half of the conversation. And sometimes, it requires hearing ALL of the side of the other.

It's not that I'm not guilty of this. I've gone into the chapel with my own laundry list, and even now that I'm praying LOH, I have to take care not to rush through the prayers because sometimes Jesus uses only one line to get my attention. If I'm praying a litany, sometimes it's one title that makes me stop.

Sometimes the devotion isn't about completing the devotion, but being willing to listen to Jesus as He tells us what about that prayer is important in our relationship with Him.

In speaking with a priest this afternoon, we both lamented that people can't seem to get through the written devotions in order to grasp the beauty of contemplative prayer. It's not that everyone experiences mysticism, but rather, that they are willing to put aside the STUFF and just engage with Jesus, one on one.

There are so many beautiful devotions in our tradition, and they ARE important; but they are only tools. If we let the tools take control, then we are not developing a relationship with our Beloved; we are building obstacles.

So to all Catholics who love Jesus and love their devotions; please take note of what you're doing with your time and take even a day to leave your stack home. Just be present with Jesus, knowing that even if you don't know what to say...He DOES. And if you ALLOW Him to speak, you'll be amazed at what He has to say.

I promise.

For those of you who don't have the Blessed Sacrament exposed, know that Christ is just as present in the Tabernacle, and values your presence there where He is hidden just as much as He does where He is exposed in the monstrance. Truth be told, although my parish has Perpetual Adoration, I've had some of my most intimate encounters with God in the church where Christ is present but enclosed.

Jesus is there. He is waiting, and all he needs is a little bit of silence...and He will change your life forever.

I promise.

Obedience in Faith

God's sense of humor is always striking, that is, when it's not subtle. And sometimes it's both, because He often uses irony. At least, with me.

While I would not call myself a rad-trad by any means, I definitely lean to the right. For example, I don't like Contemporary Christian music in the Mass, and while I can tolerate SOME Haugen-Haas, an entire Mass of bad theology in music does make me go cross-eyed. But I've seen what some of the Christian rock-type music has done to draw some kids into the church and help their faith increase, even they outgrow the music and begin to beg for the timeless polyphony that many of us crave for its truth and beauty, and honor given to God.

And I don't believe that girls should be alter servers. Yet if they are allowed in a particular parish, I just accept that fact. For I see that all the girls fall away and go on to other things, while the boys remain, become seminarians, and often an adult man serves Mass when no alter servers are otherwise present.

Further, Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion are overused, in my not so humble opinion. And I have never felt called to that particular service, although earlier this year Father mentioned that he could train us. But it hasn't happened, and I've been relieved.

In any case, I far prefer to fade into the background in the church, to organize what I have to for work, but during Mass, take a back seat, be present, and pray. But not be visible. Because holiness doesn't depend on what others see us doing during Mass up in front of everyone.

But over the last couple days, given some of the questions that arose at the parent meetings, I came to see that being trained at that parish as an Extraordinary Minister could have value. Because I could answer questions as to how things are done at that specific parish.

Yet I'm still not willing to just volunteer to Father and ask him to train us, although he would do it in a heartbeat. I actually have the impression that he WANTS us to take on that role at Masses we attend there, or are involved with, thought he hasn't come right out and stated it as such.

Well, last night, I went into the chapel, and again today, I said the same prayer...I told Jesus that although I don't want to serve in that particular capacity, if Father asks me to do so, or any other capacity, I will take it as a request from the Lord Himself, and I'll obey. I'll surrender to God's will in that, and just asked for direction as to what He wants me to do.

Well, today, God answered.

At work, we are planning a Benediction, which I had to discuss for logistical purposes with Father today. And he mentioned the need for altar servers. Great! I told him I'd get him a list of the kids in the classes so he could tell me which are trained for this. He first suggested to me, "Well, you could do it."

Huh!? Serve? Ring the bell? Incense? Huh?!

But....I'm a girl! A girl who does NOT want to be at the altar.

So I counter-suggested we find the kids first, and then see. We literally have NONE in our evening program. So I looked to the high school students who would be there. None available because they have other obligations for that time slot.

So I called Father back, gave him the news, and said that if he wanted to train me, that would be fine. Of course he first gave me instructions over the phone. And while I've attended several Benedictions, and he's well aware of that, I've not really paid that much attention to what the server was doing and when. So I asked, "Uh....can I PRACTICE this before we do it?"

Sure. The day of, we'll run through it.

I got off the phone and told the DRE that I was going to be the altar server for the Benediction. She thought it was cool (and I know that SHE wouldn't want to do it, herself. She feels as I do about these things.)

So I went into the church for awhile to pray, and realized that Father's request of me today was a direct answer to the prayer I offered to God last night. And when I was asked to serve....I found every excuse possible to refuse. And grasped at straws. And tried to get away. And realized that I could not go anywhere to escape. And only THEN did I surrender to God's own will for me.

I was quite chastized today. Clearly, I have a HUGE problem with obedience. I seriously felt like I had to go to Confession, seeing my complete propensity to reject God's will in the most simple of things. Even after making a promise to obey.

So there, I surrendered, and I said "yes" to His Divine Plan, hoping I wouldn't set the alb on fire, and then the church.

But the story hasn't ended.

Tonight I had to recruit servers for a second Benediction, and in talking to the classes, a girl volunteered, a girl I know to be a real holy kid. And another boy volunteered, too. Perfect. But the girl asked to speak to me, and asked if we needed a server at the other benediction?

YES!

Father had told me he preferred two, but could work with one, and he's in fact done this by himself before.

But now we have one....and I am off the hook.

Tonight, God made His point. Thankfully, it appears He doesn't REALLY want me to don and alb and kneel next to Father at the altar and ring the bell. Rather, He wanted me to see my flaw, to surrender to His will...and only THEN did He reveal His entire plan.

And of course....if something happens and my lone server can't attend, well...I just hope no one has a camera.

I'm not a Martyr...tonight

Thank you to everyone who offered prayers and Mass intentions for myself and the parents and First Communicants.

The evening went well. I don't think my speaking ability was great by any means, but a couple mothers approached me afterward and thanked me for stating that they MUST go to Mass. Period.

I'm almost disappointed there wasn't a lynching. Really, it's the only chance I have at Sainthood. Maybe tomorrow. Or next year.

In all seriousness, though, I have to admit that tonight I felt privileged to be able to stand up there and speak for Christ. To tell people about Him. To speak authoritatively about the True Presence of Jesus Christ and back it up with scripture. To tell of stories of the Saints, and of Eucharistic Miracles.

And most of all, to proclaim in this manner my own love for Christ.

It was an honor to speak for Him, an honor I don't deserve, and that Jesus doesn't need. The Lord doesn't NEED us at all. Any of us. But He allows us to participate in His plan of Salvation, and for that, I will forever be grateful.

Tomorrow I'll give the same talk to the second group of parents. Please continue to keep them, and their children in your prayers.

St. Ignatius on the Eucharist

Today I was doing my reading for one of my classes which delves into the Church Fathers, and I found the following quote from St. Ignatius Martyr (ie St. Ignatius of Antioch):

My Love has been crucified and there burns in me no passion for material things. I take no delight in corruptible food or in the dainties of this life. What I want is God's bread, which is the flesh of Christ, who came from David's line; and for drink I want his blood: and immortal love feast indeed!

St. Ignatius Martyr gave us many writings from the time he walked the earth, immediately following the time of the Apostles. He was a direct disciple of St. John the Apostle, and bishop of Antioch after St. Peter.

In another quote, he instructs us on unity in the Church under the hierarchy which was clearly already established:

Be careful, then, to observe a single Eucharist. For there is one flesh of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and one cup of His Blood that makes us one, and one altar, just as thee is one bishop along with the presbytery and the deacons, my fellow slaves.

St. Ignatius was fed to the lions on behalf of Jesus Christ. After his arrest, as he journeyed to Rome, he begged the people to allow him to go to his death, for he noted that to allow this gave greater glory to God; for, "Our God Jesus Christ, indeed, has revealed himself more clearly by returning to the Father." So he also desired to go to the Father, so that he could allow his death to be his final statement as to the truth of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ and His presence in the Eucharist.

Statistics

Does anyone know where I can find the most reliable statistics on Mass-going Catholics, containing a breakdown on what percentage believe in the True Presence of Christ in the Eucharist?

I'm preparing for a talk for early February, so any info/links you can provide would be extremely helpful!

"Eucharist"

I have been contemplating this term a great deal recently, both because of the paper I handed in a week ago, and because it grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

I've been wondering; what is my problem with this word?! "Eucharist" is a completely licit and necessary word of any Catholic's vocabulary. It means "thanksgiving", and indeed, do we not give thanks for the sacrifice of atonement Jesus made for us upon the cross?

Ahh....that's it. Allow me to explain.

At work, as it is my job to coordinate the first sacraments, I have a whole bunch of books labeled "Eucharist". Which is fine. I also have a whole bunch of files I inherited marked "First Eucharist."

I'm cringing just thinking about it.

You may be wondering what my problem is. So did I. Until yesterday when I realized there's a HOST of reasons this phrase grates on my nerves, so I'm going to try to coherently lay it out.

I grew up with the term "Communion". Certainly I heard the word "Eucharist" but "Communion" was the predominant term, especially in my household. And through the use of the word "Communion", or even better, "Holy Communion" I was given to understand that through this sacrament there was a special joining to Jesus Christ.

This completely meshes with the term "Eucharist", of course...it's all over the Catechism of the Catholic Church, after all. You will not find me arguing with that very important and wholly scriptual document! The CCC is my friend!

Perhaps my problem is this; the term "Eucharist" is tossed around and used to mean many things, not all of them holy. I have heard and read of "doing Eucharist" in reference to certain crazy women who have dubbed themselves "priests." I've seen the phrase "We are a Eucharistic People" especially in connection to particular "Catholic Communities" that tend to de-emphasize the holy and fully emphasize what appears to be a political convention in what is SUPPOSED to be, properly, a church.

While the former is completely un-holy, and the later is legitimate, it is still annoying...because all too often the term "Eucharist" in those places emphasizes the "table" where we share the Body and Blood of Christ, and links it to a certain lateral theology, effectively removing the emphasis which SHOULD be upon the Sacrifice of Atonement.

I have no problem with the fact that the Mass is indeed a feast; it must be, for this is the fulfillment of the final Covenant. Jesus is the Lamb of God, and just as the proleptic passage of Exodus discsses the fulfillment of eating the flesh of the lamb, so we follow suit. The Covenant involving the death and resurrection of Jesus is not really fulfilled until we CONSUME the flesh of the Lamb. Thus, the theology involving the Paschal Feast is indeed proper. The term "Eucharist" used in connection with this is fine, but it's gotten out of control.

Because of the over-usage of the term "Eucharist" and "Eucharistic", it seems tjat the people of God have really been done a HUGE disservice. I keep seen statistics that cite only a small percentage of Catholics actually believe in the True Presence of Christ in the Eucharist. But a whole lot of people sure do show up and labor for open Communion. And it's so ironic that in that context the term "Communion" is used, because these same people use the term "Eucharist" almost exclusively except when discussing ecumenism. And suddnenly it's not about going to dinner, but rather about being hospitable to people who don't share Catholic beliefs. But then again, I suppose I can understand the confusion...if Catholics don't believe in the True Presence in the Eucharist, why WOULD they have a problem with sharing what they only perceive to be a symbol? In effect, many Catholics have Protestant beliefs, and they have these beliefs due to very poor catechesis.

Some non-Catholic denominations use the term "Eucharist" also, and this may also lend to the poor catechesis in Catholic circles. I can say no more about this because I simply do not have any factual information on those differing beliefs; suffice to say they do not believe what we as Catholics believe.

In any case, when I hear the term "First Eucharist" I think I'm cringing because I envision a program that denies proper catechesis, placing the emphasis on the wrong things, or at the very best, providing an imbalanced catechesis that avoids exactly those things that made people walk away from Jesus in John 6, too.

Lots of people argue that some aren't ready to hear the truth; I will argue that if we who know the truth don't provide it, then we become responsible for not imparting it. It is not up to us to decide what others do or don't feel, or what others will or won't do. If I tell someone, for example, that they must eat the flesh of Jesus Christ, and that Holy Communion is the consummation of the Paschal Wedding Feast and they walk away (after providing much more explanation), well, I'm not responsible. They are walking away from Jesus, not from me.

Am I suggesting that information should be presented without due care? No! Far from it! However, I will not withhold information because I fear a Catholic might walk away because they are "grossed out" by theology. It simply means I will be careful to preface anything "scary" with proper education. And still, people might walk away. That's between them and God; they cannot come to know God if they are not provided the education that enables them to accept or reject him. Ignorance is NOT bliss.

So, after all this rambling, I will say I prefer the term "Holy Communion." Because that's what it is; pure and simple.

The emphasis on the "table" is misguided, although understandable. For the Holy Eucharist" was establised at the Last Supper, a Passover meal. But doesn't that say something? It was about consuming the flesh of the lamb...and on that night, the Lamb of God explained that the bread was His flesh, the wine was His blood. This meal component of Holy Communion is EXTREMELY important. However, the Last Supper setting was actually NOT the Mass itself, and it was not the Covenant. It was, in fact, pointing to something greater, something far more important, and it was a link!

The Last Supper was proleptic of the Sacrifice of the Cross. "Proleptic" is something that is indicative of a future reality. For example, Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is proleptic of the Beautific vision.

So the Last Supper is not, in fact, the sacrifice of the Mass, but it contains a very important component, for, as I stated, the flesh of the Lamb must be consumed...and we do that. AFTER the consecration.

The Eucharist itself, Holy Communion, is the Sacrifice of Atonement. The Consecration is the death of Jesus upon the cross. It makes the sacrifice at Calvary present; when we kneel in that moment, we are kneeling at the very foot of the cross. The Mass is a SACRIFICE; it is an act of PENANCE, it is an act of REPARATION, it is an act of REDEMPTION for us all! And we CONSUMMATE this act by eating of the fruit of this cross, the flesh and blood of Christ Himself.

And that is why it is a Eucharistic meal; for if we aren't giving thanks to Christ for what He did to redeem us, we shouldn't be receiving at all. If we think that this is a hoe-down barn-raising meal to be shared with all comers and don't understand that this very FLESH of GOD came to us out of a horrible sacrifice that WE inflicted upon Him so viciously...we shouldn't be receiving.

So as I teach others, I will use the preferred term "Holy Communion" in my catechesis; and I will be using the term "Eucharist" very sparingly. Not because it's wrong, but rather, because people don't understand the theological implications of this reality. And when terms are not understood, they get redefined by whatever human disorder makes the word "feel good."

When we receive Holy Communion, we are offering ourselves to Him, we are accepting His sacrifice of atonement on our behalf, and we are agreeing to follow Him...even unto death. We are agreeing as a people to be His Bride; we are, in fact, in a very deep communion in joing our flesh to His in this very holy act. We should indeed be giving thanks! The word "Communion" is indicative of our desire to join our wills to that of the Lord, to follow Him wherever He leads, agreeing that in fact, we believe heart and soul all that the Church teaches. This is COMMUNION. And the fact that this communion is in relation to the standard of holiness, God himself, that makes it "Holy Communion."

However, if our "Eucharist" is divorced from sacrifice and repentance...then our "Eucharist" is nothing more than a word. And words are cheap.