A Holy Communion Story

I. Introibo

Would it happen again? Would the ultimate joy/suffering be accorded again? Yet, no sign was ever needed for the young cleric; his faith, though tried at every turn, had endured.

Gathering in the church narthex, the cleric and band of pilgrims prepared to enter the little city of God, St. Cecilia's.

The bell sounded, the organ rang out the entrance hymn, and the pilgrimage began.

He stepped into the church. As he traversed down the aisle toward the altar, he became aware that, again, he was losing himself. It was happening again.

Father no more, now Melchisedech, moving to meet his Beloved, becoming Him as he neared the altar, the cross. Becoming He who would save the world.

But with each step came the weights of the crosses he would bear.

Walking this via delarosa, he was vaguely aware of the people assembled in the pews along the way. It seemed that the original path was being reenacted, with jeers from the populace on the way to Golgotha ... only here the shouts were within the minds of those assembled. Although he was processing toward the altar, a myriad of thoughts from the congregants invaded his mind. There were pious and holy sentiments here, but the cacophony of distracted thoughts became paramount.

To his right a weight was projected onto him ... "Can't they play diff erent music? This stuff is so sing-songy."

To his left ... a woman chewing gum, concerned that her breath was presentable.

Up ahead ... Someone worried about what to cook for dinner ... someone distracted by a sleeveless blouse ... someone wondering if he could sneak out after Communion ... someone bothered by the children in the nearby pew ... someone thinking that the person sneezing should have stayed home ... someone wondering why she didn't stay home ... so many some ones, each thought adding weight to his journey to the altar, so many small crosses becoming one huge cross.

Who would help in carrying this cross? So many holy souls assembled, but seemingly no one to send a blinding thought of holiness to lessen the weight.

Blinding thought ... blinding ... blind.

There, near the front, there came a holy thought. "Oh Jesus, prepare me to receive you next week. I love you, and I want to be with you."

It was Bartholomew, the eight year old who, with his class, would approach the altar as a first communicant. And as Father bowed before ascending to the altar, it was Jesus, wracked in pain from the journey, Who smiled and felt the warmth and love of Bartholomew as the holy sacrifice would be re-presented. Simple and pure love from this beautiful child, who could only see with his heart.

Bartholomew was blind.

And the Lord of all heard the rest of his prayer. "Dear Jesus, I know that when I receive you, you will shower me with holy gifts. Please, receiving you is all I could want. Give the gift to my dad ... he needs a job."

Jesus smiled and blessed him.

II. The Gift

The day had arrived.

Father checked to see that the pilgrimage of young souls was ready to enter the Church for Mass and their first Holy Communion. The CCD teachers placed each child in the proper row and proper order. The children, dressed in communion best, would process in before the altar servers, followed by Deacon and Father.

The only glitch in this orderliness was on the left side, the boy's processional. Standing tall, but a little out of place, was Martha. She was Bartholomew's mother. Bartholomew, who was blind, was being escorted by the one who was at his side since his birth. Martha was happy for him, but she wished he could see the grandeur of what was about to transpire.

Dan, Bartholomew's father, was seated in the rear pew of the Church. He had asked Martha to escort their son; Dan was embarrassed. He couldn't take looks of pity for his son over the years, and now, just a few weeks earlier, he had lost his job. He had even sunk into arguing with Martha over the littlest of things, more concerned about his fragile circumstances than over the angst Martha also felt. It should have been a time of delighted anticipation of his son's first communion, and Dan felt he had let everyone down.

But both father and mother had tears of joy at the fuller communion their son would share in the Church. They had hoped his years' long desire to receive Holy Communion would meet the expectations they had for him and the expectations he had for himself.

Martha reflected on how she had prepared him for this day, teaching him his prayers and going over his catechism with him, but being very careful to avoid John, chapter nine, where Jesus cured the man blind since birth. There was no sense in getting his hopes up.

Dear Lord, she thought, if he expected this miracle and it didn't come ... but she knew it was she who wanted the miracle for her son. And, on this...