A major reason I became Catholic concerned the Church’s profound theology of the Eucharist, which I (as a New Testament scholar) found squared well with the biblical witness, once certain modern lenses fell like scales from my eyes. Paul speaks of our real participation in the body and blood of Christ as that which unites the Church (1 Corinthians 10:16-17) and soon thereafter remarks that some of the Corinthians have fallen infirm and dropped over dead because of their eating and drinking unworthily (11:27-32). One doesn’t die from mishandling symbols; one dies from mishandling that in which God is found, as readers familiar with Uzzah’s demise in 2 Samuel 6 and viewers of Raiders of the Lost Ark know.
In Luke 24:30-31 the risen Jesus vanishes from the two disciples’ sight precisely after Jesus “took the bread and blessed and broke it and gave it to them” to signal that Christ is to be found thereafter in the Eucharist. John 6 presents a view of the Eucharist as high as any, bringing to mind the famous description of St. John’s disciple, St. Ignatius, of the Eucharist as the “medicine of immortality.” Having done the exegetical work, I must confess with true charity I don’t understand how some can strain out the gnat of transubstantiation in John 6 (or some other high view, such as the Lutheran) having swallowed the camel of the Incarnation just a few chapters prior. Indeed, we Catholics believe so strongly in both the Incarnation and transubstantiation that we engage in the real “Worship of the Eucharist” (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1378) as if it’s God, because we believe it is.
Or at least we’re supposed to. As a new Catholic, I’m beginning to wonder if the way we receive the Eucharist at Mass has served to undercut our particularly Catholic understanding of the Eucharist. Lex orandi lex credendi, after all. Liturgy teaches. A Pew survey of religious knowledge taken last year discovered that 45 percent of Catholics “do not know that their church teaches that the bread and wine used in Communion do not merely symbolize but actually become the body and blood of Christ.” (Of course, regular mass-goers seem better informed.) And of course the liturgy does more than just teach, as if religion were merely a matter of propositional doctrine; liturgy ought also inspire deep reverence for the Eucharist, because, again, we believe it’s God.
Now, in most Novus Ordo masses I’ve attended the congregation is dismissed pew-by-pew to approach the ministers of communion in a relatively fast-moving line. Some, like Archbishop Conti of Glasgow, think that this procession “beautifully expresses the way in which we are a people journeying towards the Lord.” Others, speaking sotto voce, mention they sense the semiotics of a drive-thru. My experience is that the process can feel rushed and perfunctory, even with a large team of Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion on hand. I find I time my act of devotion (a quick genuflection or nod of the head, for instance, depending on how fast the line moves) with the prior communicant’s reception. Then I step forward to receive. Having received, I’m all too aware of the queue behind me and feel pressured to make way for others, and so I depart quickly, striding briskly back to my pew—while chewing Almighty God. I find the mechanics do not encourage reverence in me, at least.
How can I rightly savor the awesome moment of communion when I’m concentrating on making my way back to my seat? And so the past couple Sundays I’ve simply received the host, stepped a bit to the side of the priest while facing the altar and crucifix, and consumed it slowly and reverently. It’s a simple solution for me, and no one seems to mind; the front of the nave is so busy anyway it’s hard to be in anyone’s way, or to notice if someone was.
The few Tridentine masses I attended back in Chicagoland were different, of course. Communicants kneel at the rail while waiting for the priest to make his way to them, giving them time to prepare mentally and spiritually for what should be, theologically, the most profound moment they will experience until their death. Having received, time remains for them to consume the host slowly and reverently, and then depart for their pew at a reasonable pace.
Now many have neither ready access to nor desire for a Tridentine mass, and none of us should hold our breath waiting for altar rails and kneeling to return to celebrations of the Novus Ordo, Benedict’s desires for reverent liturgy notwithstanding. But drawing on (of all things) my experiences as a Lutheran preacher and liturgist serving a small German service in Naperville, Illinois, I would suggest a simple solution. When we celebrated Holy Communion, the congregants would come up in groups of about 15-20 and stand in the front of our small sanctuary. I as Pfarrer would shuffle from communicant to communicant and distribute the elements: Christi Leib, für dich gegeben / Christi Blut, für dich vergossen. Each communicant having received, they would commune together, and having communed, I would dismiss them: Gehet hin in Frieden. Then the next group would approach.
Something similar could easily be done in Catholic churches. People could line up across the front of the nave in front of the sanctuary, standing, if they wish, kneeling, if they choose, as is permitted. Then the priest—with a server holding a paten, perhaps—could shuffle from communicant to communicant and distribute the host. The Precious Blood could be brought as well by a second priest or some authorized minister of Holy Communion. Communicants would have time to prepare, receive and commune, no architectural renovations would be necessary, and fewer Extraordinary Ministers of Holy Communion would be involved. (As the 1997 document Ecclesia de mysterio points out in Article 8, such Ministers are supposed to be truly Extraordinary, not routine, lest confusion regarding the nature of the priesthood and the sacrament result.)
Of course, even the slightest changes in How Things Are Done can arouse fear and loathing in the faithful, and thus any changes would need to be implemented slowly with due explanation and preparation; that said, perhaps the implementation of the new translation of the Roman Missal this fall provides a ready window.
Given what Catholics believe about the Eucharist, reverence matters, for God’s sake and our own. In any event the Catechism makes clear that the liturgy is “the privileged place for catechizing the People of God” (1074). Indeed, Pope Benedict emphasized in Sacramentum Caritatis 64 that “the best catechesis on the Eucharist is the Eucharist itself, celebrated well.” It’s God, after all.
Leroy Huizenga is Director of the Christian Leadership Center at the University of Mary in Bismarck, North Dakota. His most recent article in First Things is “The Collins Bank Bible.”
RESOURCES
Christian belief in and knowledge of Transubstantiation
Eucharist/Holy Communion Survey results
Pastoral Letter on the New Translation of the Roman Missal [PDF]
On Certain Questions Regarding the Collaboration of the Non-Ordained Faithful in the Sacred Ministry of Priest
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Comments:
"As the 1997 document Ecclesia de mysterio points out in Article 8, such Ministers are supposed to be truly Extraordinary, not routine,"
Not that I've really been to very many masses, but as far as I can recall, at every one I've been to in the past few years, there have been such Extraordinary Ministers, even at ones with few enough—expectedly few enough—people in attendance (a noon weekday mass at the cathedral and a funeral mass at a local parish with perhaps fifty people in the pews, half of them non-Catholic) that the officiant could have easily distributed the Eucharist in a reasonably short time. Is it just that people (all but one I saw women, but perhaps that's the issue?) want to be "involved"? Or is something else going on?
Men don't generally do this. They generally expect the priest to man up. Women being helpers don't have the same expectation.
When they were the dominant context for reception of Communion, they were every bit as perfunctory as the standing line. The point is that, in intentional communities where the rail is chosen (for a variety of reasons, noble or otherwise), perfunctory behavior is mitigated by the intentional context. Once something becomes normalized regardless of intentionality, it tends to become perfunctory. And most people in the pews *like* it that way, even if they oughtn't.
You've hit the nail on the head. But I think you were too quick to move past the Tridentine Mass. Reverence in the immediate moments before and after communion are only a minimum requirement if we truly "kn0w him in the breaking of the bread". Crappy guitar strumming and attention seeking homilists (and other silliness) throughout the NO mass serve to distract us from His Presence.
I have never witnessed, in person, a Novus Ordo mass which came close to the humility and Christ-focused prayer of the Tridentine Mass. If I had I wouldn't drive an hour to mass every Sunday.
The writer has an interesting suggestion. What he is trying to do is devise something that would work, by itself, to bring people to a better disposition to receive the Eucharist. He has seen this work and so he suggested it -- to which I say, thanks! Liam's comment that kneeling at an altar rail was often perfunctory when it was standard is doubtless true, but one must think hard about the obvious question: So what? If the way one receives is meant to produce the opportunity to participate internally, whether or not one actually does so, then aren't we obliged to design things so that they produce the desired effect the most often, with the most people?
We do this all the time in the secular world. Thousands of professionals in architecture and interior design think about this sort of thing every day -- not to mention the thousands of people who devise ceremonies and events, and even coordinate trips on cruise ships! Let's take the latter, for example. Everything on a cruise ship, from the shows to the trips to the way food is served at the famous midnight buffets, is designed to invite people to relax and feel pampered. Those things can't MAKE people have any particular feelings or do anything in particular, they can only invite them to do so. You can have a rotten time on a cruise despite every effort to make you enjoy yourself, but the success of cruise lines shows that for most people, the surroundings, activities, food, and rituals do in fact make them relax and enjoy themselves no matter what is going on in their lives. The cruise companies don't just stick people on a featureless boat with a cafeteria and say, "Have fun if you want to -- but if you don't, it's because you are not adequately preparing yourself internally."
Over 2000 years, the Latin rite developed in a certain way that made it possible for a wide variety of people to participate internally in the Eucharist with widely varying amounts of preparation. What worked was kept, and what didn't naturally developed into something that did. It's crazy to throw nearly everything away at once and expect that what develops in 40 years will be perfect. Surely, if the current Mass is a starting point, Mass 100 years from now will look different from the way it does now. Music and rituals and architecture will naturally develop to provide Catholics the interior disposition they require -- with a lot of unsuccessful stuff falling by the wayside. That's the way human beings do things. Much that was discarded can be reclaimed, and much that is new can develop. But it's silly to claim that the current state of the Mass is great when the lived experience of millions of Catholics in North America and Europe is that it's far from the case.
And to "I am not Spartacus," you are mistaken. We Lutherans would agree with Justin: "Not as ordinary bread and wine do we receive the Eucharist."
If the Eucharist is the source and summit of our faith, then why should we not show that Sacrament the most profound reverence that can be had? Kneeling, from a Catholic perspective, does just that. Anything less is to lessen the amount of reverence we show toward the Blessed Sacrament. Reverence, in this instance is not a subjective, interior mode, but rather it is a public and objective witness to the reality of what has just taken place and what the priest confected for us.
If reception of Holy Communion is the culmination of our worship, it would only make sense to assume the same posture of adoration and reverence when receiving Holy Communion as it is when it is confected. To do any less is to create a false dichotomy.
Finally, I must take issue with the notion of patterning after the "Lutheran" practice of reception. Lutherans altered the way they received the species, because they abandoned the way they worship. They don't believe the same things a Catholic believes with regard to the Blessed Sacrament. Insofar as they don't, they do not revere and adore the species, they merely respect it as being in the moment. Therefore, their view of reception is not as complete or promising. That being said, to adopt their mode of reception is counter productive for Catholics, while practical, it is not theologically sound nor is it theologically desirable.
"From a Catholic perspective," or, specifically, from a Western or Latin Catholic perspective, but not from an Eastern one. In the Early Church, Eastern and Western alike, kneeling was solely and exclusively a posture of penitential abnegation, and in the East it has remained such (except among more or less "Latinized" Eastern Catholic churches, such as the Maronites), with "reverence" being expressed by standing, and "profound reverence" by prostration head-downwards, or proskynesis. Obviously, one can't receive communion whilst lying prostrate on the floor (although in some Slavic lands it became the custom for the faithful to prostrate themselves during the Great Entrance and the Anaphora), so Easterns receive it standing, and so express their due reverence for the Body and Blood of Christ.
In the West, over the course of time, kneeling became as much associated with adoration as with penitence, and one may argue that the removal of altar rails and the ensuing end of kneeling for communion in the Latin Church, was a great a psychic and spiritual breach in the religious lives of Latin Catholics as any other particular post Vatican II foolish innovation, even (my partcular bugbear) the absurdity of celebrating "Mass facing the people."
Restore altar rails, and kneeling to a great degree will restore itself. In ritual and religious matters, table d'hote is always the best policy, whereas a la carte will but perpetuate confusion and doubt on the part of the "mere Catholic," and eccentric practices on the part of the opionated or disturbed.
Regarding the Communion Rail: Yes! It is both efficient and conducive to recollection.
Thanks for your question. It's a good one. The short answer is that becoming Catholic is a radical step for us converts. I mean, for many of us it's like a whole other religion. So we really think, and read, and deliberate. Many of us pay real personal and professional prices to convert, and since the stakes are so high, we end up knowing our stuff and having informed opinions on it. So if we want to change certain things, it's because we've really given it thought and prayer and sometimes see practice out of line with the juridical and theological ideal. Many of us find we convert to Catholicism as its presented in history and in books, and the gap between that and what we find at a given local parish is bewildering, and often painful. I've been more blessed in that regard than others.
Thanks for your comments, all.
Mr. Huizenga,
As a revert to Catholicism, I also experienced bewilderment and pain, having left the Church just when they were beginning to remove the altar rails and offer "folk Masses," not returning until 2005. What upsets me in particular is that the sanctuary has turned into a social hall. Many seem to come to Mass as a chance to "catch up" with friends. Meanwhile, our God, our Best Friend, is there, desiring and waiting to bestow upon us graces and delights more wonderful than our poor minds could ever wish for or imagine.
Thank you for your delightful and entertaining comments. I'm so grateful that the Head Priest, our Lord Jesus Christ, initiated the Communion table/the Eucharist, and that He sits and presides over it, yet today. I am so grateful that He has shed His blood for me, and that as Head Priest He puts His own blood and body into my mouth everywhere and anywhere, or do you think Him incapable of that? We are all His priests. If you administered the Eucharist to me, I'm sure I'd be blessed with the real Communion, and visa versa.
A Friend in Christ Jesus,
Marianne Moessner Chen
My blog is a little snarky, but trust me I feel equally as frustrated at times.
