No Kneeling for Communion

I had to have a conversation today that I have been praying I wouldn't have to have since I started kneeling, around the first part of May. For those you that read this and knew of my struggle with whether or not to begin kneeling, I finally started. Every time I walked up for communion I would feel the urgency in my heart to drop to my knees and receive Christ in the most reverent manner I could fathom. Every single time I went forward I would hear the voice in the back of my mind yelling at me "You hit both knees in adoration, yet you only bow before receiving Christ?" Every time I would return to my seat and apologize to Him for being such a coward, for not being able to show Him the respect and humility He deserves. I was certain there would come a day when a heavenly crow bar would hit me behind the knees and I would finally kneel to receive Christ.

The urge to do so was intensifying each week, until, finally one Saturday it was so strong that I didn't think I could fight it any longer, but somehow I did, and afterward I felt worse than I ever had before. Just going to Latin Mass wouldn't suffice any longer, I needed to receive reverently no matter what form I was attending. After Mass that day I marched into the sacristy, where both Fr. D, and Msgr. were and announced to the room "I have a question" which is totally unsurprising, if you know me. Both men looked over at me expectantly and I blurted out; "I need to kneel, can I kneel?" Both of them chuckled a bit, and Fr. D told me that of course I could, there was nothing saying I couldn't, he had people that knelt, and it was totally fine. As he always does, he simply told me to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. I was still a little nervous and uncertain, so the next day at my home parish, I stayed standing, and felt awful. I was able to go to Mass that following Tuesday, and decided on my way up that I would remain standing. I knew Fr. D was fine with it, but I had no clue how Fr. P (the priest at my home parish) would react. However, when it was my turn to receive, without even thinking about it, I hit my knees, and that was that. I discussed it with Fr. P later and he told me it was completely fine, and not to worry about it. All that worry for nothing!

I continued kneeling from that day forward, only standing to receive when I happened to be holding a baby on my hip. None of the priests I encountered said a word, and I finally felt at peace with myself, knowing I was doing my best to receive reverently. Until today, that is.  Tom and I have been attending a different church recently, one that he prefers, and as he has yet to convert, as long as he's worshiping by my side I'll attend whichever Catholic church he wants. I've enjoyed this church as well, every time we've attended though, I've had a baby on my hip, so I stood and received on the tongue. Today, however, I was baby free for the first time. As I always do, I hit my knees and looked up, and instantly I knew something was very wrong, the priest looked rattled and not at all happy. He almost missed my mouth! And then, he said "you need to stand next time."

I felt hot tears running down my cheeks as I neared my seat, all kinds of emotions flooding through me. As I knelt to pray, I asked God to lead me and guide me, to direct my words in the conversation I knew I needed to have. "Lord, let them be your words, not mine. Help me, Lord to keep my calm. All I want to do is serve You. Help me to honor and uplift You as best I can." As the Mass concluded, and I continued in prayer I was able to gain my composure, and get my emotions in check. The fiery, rebellious part of me wanted to march on over to Fr. N and demand he tell me who on earth he thinks he is, reprimanding me, while  holding the body of Christ, and whip out my phone, and pull up the Vatican website, and draw his attention to chapter 2, numbers 90 and 91, and then yell at him about his lack of respect. I was less upset by the reprimand, and more upset about where he chose to deliver it. The communion line is not the time nor the place. Find me after. But, the rational side of me, and the side that, thankfully won out, knew that that was certainly not the way to handle it. I needed to handle it with grace, love, compassion, and the Holy Spirit guiding my words.

I walked into the fourier,  explained to my husband that I needed to speak to Father for a moment, and then went to where he was greeting people, he looked as if he would run to safety before I could reach him, so I just silently prayed, and was reminded that this man was the pastor, and as such deserved my respect. I can, and will respect his wishes, but I can not make such a sacrifice without understanding why I need to. Because, I know that I'm not doing anything wrong, I was well within my rights. Finally, it was my turn to greet him, I smiled as pleasantly as I could muster, though my insides were Jello, and my knees were sure to buckle at any moment. I shook his hand and as calmly as I could, I asked if I might have a word with him. A flash of recognition told me he knew exactly what we were to discuss. He agreed, and after greeting a few more parishioners made his way back over to speak with me.

I shook his hand again, and said; "I will happily respect your wishes to stand for communion, but in order to make that sacrifice I would like to understand why." Surprise crossed his face for a moment, and I was certain he thought I was going to come out with guns a blazing and challenge him. He crossed his arms over his chest, and took up a defensive pose, and then informed me that the liturgy of the mass says to stand, so we stand, and he respects that, and then asked me where I ever got such an idea. I tried to ignore that question, as I would probably lose my cool when trying to form an answer. I have a quick temper, and I'm still shocked that it didn't bubble over. I told him that I had discussed it with a priest, and he was fine with it, and Father P was fine with it. He wanted to know where this priest was from and his name, so I told him about Fr. D and his diocese, and about Fr. P, and he knows him. He seemed to get even more defensive at that, and started telling me how it looked to others, and disrupted others, and came off putting myself above them, giving the idea of "hey look at me, look at me."

That is the furthest thing from my mind. It's about my personal relationship with God, not about all the other people around me, Mass isn't about the rest of the congregation, it's about God alone. The priest isn't putting on a show for the people, and the people aren't putting on a show for others. There could be five, or five hundred other people in the room, I likely won't notice, my focus is elsewhere. On God. I don't go to Mass to impress those around me, my attendance has nothing to do with them.

I just kept my lips pressed together, silently praying and then assured him that it was not at all my intention. I was fighting with every fiber of my being to keep the stinging tears in my eyes, and not allow them  to stream down my face like they wanted to. I hate that I cry when I'm upset. He asked about the other people, and how it made them feel and before I could answer he said; "Do you even care?" and then repeated the question multiple times. I know when I'm being goaded, and I refused to take the bait. I told him I didn't intend it as a point of argument, that I simply wanted to understand. I assured him that I would respect his wishes, and that I understand them....I don't agree with them, but I understand them. And, I will respect them.

The tension started to flow away after that, and before I realized it we were laughing and discussing my conversion. He enjoyed my story and wants me to share it sometime. He said that I was the first person to ever kneel for him, so I knew that I had taken him quite by surprise, and that wasn't at all his fault. I can imagine the shock of doing something one way for over thirty five years, and then all of a sudden this crazy lady pops up in front of you, and completely throws you off. In every other way he's a wonderful priest. This is the only issue I've ever had with him. He is very pleasant, and easy to talk to. I think I just threw him for a loop. As we said our goodbyes I started thinking about whether or not I would ever return to that church, I promised to respect him, and I will. But, I still didn't know if I could. I got in the car, and went over the whole ordeal again, and started praying for guidance.

I realized that I can and will return to that parish. I will stand, but I will still receive on the tongue, if he asks me to change that too, then I will leave. I will be able to do it reverently, and  without guilt. I will know that my standing isn't out of cowardice, but out of courage. Courage to show respect to the priest, courage to show him that I'm not just some "rad trad" Catholic that thinks I'm better than everyone else. I'm not. Trust me, I know my faults. I'm also not going to kneel in defiance, just because I know I can, and he can't deny me. That would be unhelpful, and take the focus off of the reason I did it in the first place. I won't kneel for any other reason to serve Christ. If it becomes a point of arrogance or defiance, then I'll stop.

So, when I attend Mass with Fr. N, I will stand. I will offer it up, and I will stand. But, to answer his question, no, I don't care what everyone thinks. It's not for them. It's for God, and His is the only opinion that matters to me.


UPDATE:

Shortly after I posted this, Father N emailed me and told me I could receive communion however I like, and that my belief in the Eucharist means more than his words. That humbled me greatly. He just needed time, and he was able to see the other side. That doesn't mean he agrees or is going to start encouraging it, it means that just as I will respect his opinion, he will respect mine. And that, my friends, takes one heck of a person to do. I am leaving this post up though, because I think this negative reaction, and misunderstanding is all too common, but the outcome is not. So, for encouragement, it stays. And I'm really grateful to Fr. N, and that I took the time to talk to him, and didn't just run off in anger and think malicious thoughts.

The Journey Home.

I think it's best if we start at the beginning. I was saved, and accepted Christ into my heart in highschool, October 5th, 2005 to be exact. It was around 4:30 in the afternoon, and one of my best friends at the time had held my hand through the entire Bible, and every dumb question I had had, and now we sat in his church basement, praying together as I truly accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior for the first time. It was an amazing experience, and an afternoon I'll never forget. He and I have drifted apart since school, but I will be forever grateful for him putting up with me! We talked on the phone for hours nearly every night, I had so many questions, I barely knew the basic stories, yet I sat down with an old King James that I found in my house and set my mind to figuring out what I believed. With his help, and by the grace of God I truly realized that He did exist and I do believe!

I went about the rest of highschool, and the beginning of college holding onto the belief that I could be both incredibly liberal, and a Christian. Every day I grew deeper and deeper in my faith, I started attending church with Tom and we began growing in our faith together. I began realizing that I could not actually be a Christian, and believe in some things that go against Christ's teachings. We got married, we hit a rough patch, with us both losing our jobs just a few weeks after returning from our honeymoon, we were broke, and I was a horrible wife. Then we began really realizing we were dealing with infertility (we had been told just weeks before our wedding that I may never have children). After each trial we realized that we came out stronger and stronger, and closer to God. No matter how hard things were if we just clung tight to God and each other, we made it through just fine.


Through infertility, and growing in my faith I realized that I could not be a Christian and support abortion. It's just amazing to reflect on the amount of growth in just the short eight years since I accepted Christ into my life. Amazing what God can do in such a short time period! Back to our journey: I started becoming more and more conservative, I started feeling the pull to wear skirts, and then I realized that I was anti-birth control, and I didn't know how my beloved church felt about these issues which were so incredibly dear  to me, so I began fasting and praying about it, and I felt like I just needed to suck it up and meet with my pastor and ask him point blank where our church stood. I had realized that if the church didn't stand firmly rooted in what I had realized to be Truth, then I could no longer be a part of it. That thought broke my heart in a million pieces. I LOVE that church, I grew so much in that church, I was married in that church, that church supported me through everything, no way could I leave them. But, Tom and I prayed on it, and agreed that we may indeed need to.

Now, don't get me wrong here, I don't think that all women should wear skirts, that it should be a teaching in the church, or anything like that. I think that for me, personally, it's what I need. I do, however think that we should be encouraging and explaining modesty in our women and girls. Beyond just "because". Talk to me about WHY. I also think that it's worth exploring why some churches are opposed to birth control. So, I sucked it up, set up a meeting, and discussed these issues with my pastor. This was also the time in which I started thinking and praying about covering my head. After that we continued in deep prayer about where God needed us.

During this time my step grandmother passed away and we attended her funeral, in a Catholic church. A church I was, and am familiar with, I had attended several times, watched my mother get baptized there, etc. so it wasn't that strange to be there. Random fact: I've actually been to more Catholic funerals than protestant. Anyway, at some point, I can't even tell you when, somewhere between the homily and Holy Communion. I had the most magnificent experience with God I have ever had in my entire life. My world was completely shaken. I was so confused, so unsettled, I spent the rest of the service just staring around blankly trying to gather my thoughts into something coherent. I had decided that I would take advantage of  both  Monsignor and Father being at the dinner afterwards, and discuss this with one or both of them. However, enter: my mother, who forced me to go get a plate instead of sitting and talking to them (this wasn't my first time meeting them) by the time I made it through the hugely long line (Italians) they had both vanished. I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend...who is now my sponsor, and told her I had an unsettling experience.

Then, I continued on with my day, convincing myself that I was in fact insane, and the experience was all in my head. Except, I couldn't get it out of my head. I tried. Later, we were back at my mom's and I saw some sacrifice beads on her counter, read the card and thought that my friend would really like something like that, so I asked where she got them so that I could purchase some for my friend. She told me to just take them. So, I stuck them in my jacket pocket and forgot about them. On the way home it was still eating at me, so I told Tom. His very simple response was along the lines of; "Well, if you have to become Catholic, I'll support you, but I'm not there right now."

Um, WHAT!!!! NO NO NO NO NO!!! Somehow that thought never entered my brain, I knew I had this experience, I knew it was right in the midst of discerning where my church home was, but CATHOLIC?!?!?!? I couldn't become Catholic, no way, Jose! I went home and prayed and prayed and prayed, and begged God not to make me Catholic. Sometimes I think God enjoys laughing at me.

The next evening my friend and I went to dinner. As I was leaving the house I slipped into my jacket and when I put my hand in my pocket I felt the beads. I had completely forgotten about them in the midst of all of my pleading with God to not make me Catholic, and having a coronary over that experience. I didn't know then if I wanted to give them to her not, in fact I didn't know if was going to give them to her or not until the moment I handed them to her. Her eyes pretty much bugged out of her head when she said "St. Therese, huh?" I, having no idea what in tarnation she was talking about shrugged my shoulders, and said, "Ummm, sure." She then went on to explain that she had just finished a novena to her, and that was a symbol to her that God had heard her prayers.

Chills. I got chills. I'm pretty sure I could hear God laughing at me in that moment. I realized in that moment that not only had He lead me to being super conservative, but that nearly every opinion I held was completely in alignment with the Catholic church, not only did He give me all that, He gave me a close encounter with Him, and because He knows me, and knows that I like to pretend to not hear Him, He made sure I had a shared experience with someone I dearly love and trust.

Okay, fine. So, now I had to seriously entertain the idea of possibly, maybe, one day, in like ten years becoming Catholic. Fine. Oh no, my life can't be that easy. Every time I turned around He tossed something at me. It was overwhelming. I just couldn't escape all the Catholic being thrown my way. I set up a meeting and talked to my pastor about all of this, I almost begged him to convince that I was wrong, and that I couldn't be Catholic. He told me that he couldn't argue with God, and if that's where God was leading me then I needed to go.

Seriously, that is the last response I expected. No help. So, I decided to find a priest. I called my mommy and made her do the leg work =) the following weekend I drove the two hours to attend Mass with my mom and stepdad. Why did this feel so comfortable? Afterwards we went to dinner with the priest, younger fellow, so that helped me to be a little more comfortable. Random fact#2: He's actually closer to my age than Tom! ((Tom's nine years my senior)) I had spoken with him before, but in brief, and about things like the weather...not, things like; "Catholics are weird, and I am so confused" We all piled in my step dad's truck and headed to dinner. On the way over my brain and mouth were going about a mile a minute as I talked nonstop I think the entire way to the restaurant  By this point I had already realized the truth in the Eucharist and oneness of the Church. So, I told him all about my experiences, the revelations I had had about those two things, etc.

He sat patiently and listened attentively, occasionally trying to share a thought or two, but I was on a roll, and not stopping until I said everything I needed to say! When I finally finished my blabbering he just looked at me with a smile and asked; "Where should I start?" He started at the amazing gift of the Eucharist, and ticked right down my list. It was so much information, I thought my brain, that was already near explosion, just may go ahead and explode! The more he talked the more I realized I was going to be Catholic much sooner than ten years from then. It was too much to process. I could barely eat, I just kept thinking about how clearly God was calling me. And, how much I wanted to fight Him. Oh, and whether it was weirder to drink wine with a priest, or my mom. I really couldn't decided, probably my mom. The wine was awful anyway. ((Protestants tend to avoid alcohol at all costs, we certainly wouldn't be drinking a glass of disgusting wine across from our pastor, while sitting next to our mother))

I had a lot to ponder after that dinner. I went home and prayed and prayed, and prayed some more. Stronger and stronger I could feel the pull on my heart towards the Catholic church. The next morning, during my normal church service it really hit me. I was done there. It was time. Whether I wanted to or not, I was becoming Catholic. I surrendered to His will, the moment I did, I threw my hands in the air and told God He won, peace flooded through me. An indescribable peace. Before, with all of the information coming at me it felt like waves crashing all around me, beating me on all sides, and when I gave in, He calmed the storm, or at least His child.

I told my pastor that day and we agreed that I would continue attending to fulfill the responsibilities I had there. I spent that afternoon praying, reading, and while still peaceful, once again being hammered with questions. I e-mailed Father that night and explained my decision, and my realization that I was headed towards Catholicism for years, I just hadn't accepted it or realized it until then. The following weekend we had lunch (Father, my friend, and I) and discussed more of the issues I was still struggling with, and once again he was so awesome at dealing with me!

Several more frantic "what about..." e-mails later, I realized that many of the issues made so much sense. In fact, what confused me was why Protestants DIDN'T believe these things, they just clicked. I entered into RCIA soon after, and through prayer, Bible study, about twenty books, a few more months, and more bothering Father constantly, I was finally ready to "come out" to my friends and family about this decision.

At this point only my best friend, husband, mother, step father, sister, and grandmother knew...and Father, and my pastor, of course. It was nerve wracking. I knew it would be, I was scared to death of what would happen, how people would react. I finally sucked it up and told a few of my very closest church friends, they were mostly disappointed, some were angry, some were sad, all were confused.  I felt rejected, and it hurt. It hurt, hurting people like that. It still hurts. I moved on to a few family members, more of the same. I have never been told I was going to Hell, that they would pray for my soul, that I was stupid, wrong, or damned so many times, so close together, by so many people I loved. It broke my heart.

I was done. I was ready to give up. Let the devil win. Stay where I was comfortable. Stay where I was loved and accepted. I just couldn't handle it anymore. I broke down, I cried, I sent a middle of the night, frantic; "I quit!" e-mail to Father, I figured he was asleep and wouldn't see it until the next day, or a few days later. I hit my knees and I cried out to God, and I begged Him for comfort, for strength, for guidance. Mere seconds after I said "Amen" my computer dinged alerting me of a new message, I stood up, dried my eyes, and read two simple words; "Call me." I began to cry again, I knew this was the comfort I needed. I thanked God for working through him. I picked up the phone, and dialed Father's number.

"Are you okay? How are you?" was the first thing I heard, no "hello" no "hey" but a very concerned inquiry about my state of being. He sounded so genuinely worried for me, it stopped me for a moment, that worry, that concern in his voice, his willingness to listen to me in the middle of the night, his fatherly worry for me in my moment of need really resonated, calling him "Father" made so much more sense to me at that moment. I hesitated while that all sunk in and then replied; "not super awesome." From there, I cried, and talked for over two hours. It was well after midnight, and the poor guy was starting to fall asleep. Remember  this priest is from a completely different diocese, than the one I entered! I tell you, he deserves a medal for putting up with me.

His willingness to listen to me, to have more dinners with me, to respond to my long winded emails  to be there for me in the middle of the night, when I'm not even a member of his own fairly large congregation just drove home the oneness of the Catholic church. It's just beautiful. Once I regained my courage I posted this to announce my decision to my Facebook friends, and people I don't talk to often. It was fairly well received  I got a few emails, but nothing like the backlash I was prepared for.

I continued my journey, and finally on Saturday I was welcomed into the Catholic Church!

It was an amazing sense of family, unity, and welcome. It was overwhelming. Standing there I just kept thinking about how amazingly stressful, and tiring this journey has been. Not only that, but how incredibly worth it it's all been. I finally understood why people (Catholic People) always told me; "Welcome Home" when I told them I was converting. It truly does feel like home. It's comforting, welcoming, and it feels right, It feels like home. I was baptized and received my first Holy Communion that evening. 

So many emotions! For those of you that read this, and are wondering, I did receive on the tongue, I was the first to receive (aside from the Eucharistic ministers) and that was very nerve wracking, up until the very moment in which I said, "Amen" and opened my mouth. At that moment I was really, really home. I had Christ living in me! I had made it! All the trials, all the heartache,   all the questions, all the longing, I made it, I was home. I am Catholic. I received the Eucharist. It was amazing. I didn't fall over, but I did cry...I did have some restraint and waited until I had returned to my seat in prayer. 

I did not veil that evening, though. I decided (with the help and advice from my husband, friend, and of course the priest I like to irritate) to wait until Easter morning. We drove the two hours to go to Mass with my mom, and also to give Father a thank you gift for putting up with me. ((I gave him beer, which is hilarious to me, coming from so many years of no alcohol whatsoever. I a little nervous about that as part of his gift, but I think that was his favorite part [it was Chimay]))

I decided to veil then. That made me nervous, I just prayed for strength, and with trembling hands pulled it up over my head (infinity scarf style) as we crossed into the sanctuary, Tom gave me a reassuring smile and helped me adjust it to cover more of my hair. We found a seat, and as I prayed I almost forgot about it...until I heard the gentleman in front of us whisper to his wife ;"that lady is wearing a veil" It was reassuring when she just shrugged and didn't even turn to see who he was talking about. The nervousness returned though, I just reminded myself that it wasn't for them, it was for God. Just like becoming Catholic, if God asks it of me, no matter how difficult, I'll do it. 

Ultimately, it was wonderfully humbling, and I know it was the right thing to do, and I will continue to do so. It was my first Mass as Catholic from start to finish, and it was beautiful. Monsignor gave a wonderful homily, and my second time receiving the Eucharist was almost as overwhelming as the first! I hope that feeling of awe never goes away! 

Both father and Monsignor seemed genuinely happy for me and my conversion! What an awesome feeling. Father even seemed a bit excited about my veiling, he mentioned it right after I walked into the room after Mass. He even told Monsignor, honestly neither of them seemed too surprised by it, but were both very welcoming about it. Which is also a relief because of all the worry I had put into it, it was nice to see it wouldn't be a big deal after all. 

Tom isn't converting at the moment, but is attending Mass with me, and is open to converting in the future!

I'm finally Catholic! Finally Home, what a wonderful feeling! 

My mom, being proud of me!

Thoughts on Receiving on the Tongue, and Veiling from an Almost Catholic.

Source

As the date of my baptism into the Catholic church nears I have really been pondering and praying about a few things, things almost singular to Catholicism, so I would like to say right now that if you aren't Catholic, or don't have a good understanding of Catholicism that you may not want to read any further, it may seem strange and confusing to you. I feel like I need to share these thoughts anyway, as when I was searching for similar things from fellow RCIA members online I couldn't find anything. I could find converts that made these choices, but no one talking about them before they converted, or that they had decided to before hand, so I thought sharing my thoughts on these matters now, and again after I am fully active in them may be helpful to someone like me. I have prayed about whether or not to even publicly talk about these things for a few reasons: 1.) Pride- I know that it may come off prideful, and that is not at all my intent 2.) It's personal- these matters are dear to me and incredibly personal, and 3.) Ridicule- Yes, I fear ridicule. Even mature Catholics have been known to ridicule their more traditional brothers and sisters for these things. Ultimately though, through prayer I have determined that posting this may be the best course, even if to show one other convert that they aren't alone.

I have already posted twice (1 & 2 ) about my love and longing for the Eucharist  and I haven't even partaken yet!  But here comes time number three! I have decided to receive Holy Communion on the tongue. I'm sure that if you've read my other two posts you aren't a bit surprised. This was something that I determined a few months ago, and was quite stressed about because the parish in which I'll be joining is a bit on the liberal side, and I had never seen anyone there receive on the tongue, in fact, I don't even know how well it'll go over when I inform the priest and Sister (RCIA leader) of this decision. They'll certainly think I'm crazy...I guess we'll see tonight (practice for Saturday) This was almost a no brainer to me. Once I realized the fullness of Christ's presence I was like; "What makes me worthy to hold the body of Christ?" Nothing. Nothing makes me worthy to receive it, either, other than of course, His grace, love and mercy. His selfless, sacrificial love for me, that's what makes me worthy of receiving it, His desire to share it with me. By His love alone.

I had struggled with this not wanting to touch the Body for a bit, noticing that everyone that went up (I stay in my seat, I do not go up for a blessing) received in their hand. This had me concerned, surely not every single one of those people are entirely reverent with their hands before, during, and after receiving the Eucharist. I mean, one should make sure their hands are cleaned directly before Mass (touching Christ with dirty hands?!?!) then be entirely careful to not drop Him on the floor, and then make sure that any remaining crumbs on your hands are consumed (no wiping fragments of Christ on your skirt) honestly, that's a lot of responsibility. That's a lot of anxiety to have during Mass. That's a lot of worry focused elsewhere that should be focused on Christ during that time.

My best friend (and sponsor) had been deciding if she would receive on the tongue during this time, but honestly, trying to figure this all out for myself I tuned her out on some of this, I didn't want her reasons to be mine, she was also careful about what she said regarding this and other matters as well. During this time we attended a Latin Mass, and I saw everyone kneeling and receiving on the tongue, and I was like; "YES" it was beautiful. You could see the love and devotion to Christ in their demeanor, and the way they looked afterward, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. It felt right, I wasn't concerned about their reverence, I knew that if I received in a similar matter that I wouldn't be bogged down with worries of if my hands were clean enough, if my hand slipped, if I was careful enough with my hands afterward. I would only be concerned with Christ, with that Gift, and encounter with Him...and if my mouth was opened enough.

 I knew then that I would be receiving on the tongue. Honestly, I would like to kneel as well, but I know that is pushing it a little too far for the parish I am in. I will make a point to travel the two hours to attend Latin Mass, at least once a month, I think, or I'll try. Anyway, a few other thoughts on this: the dependency on the priest to administer the Eucharist to you is so beautiful, such a symbol of our dependency on Christ. it also reminds us of the priest's closeness and serving of God, I think we tend to under-appreciate them at times, and this, to me, is another symbol of who they are, and why they do what they do. Just beautiful.

Next, is my decision to begin veiling. This is actually something I have been praying about longer than I've been praying about becoming Catholic! Covering my head during worship made sense to me, even in my Protestant church (no one did) but the reverse of the humility men show by UNcovering their heads was just beautiful to me. Humbling yourself before God makes sense to me. To me, it was just another outward sign of my love and devotion to Christ, my desire to serve Him, and fully submit to Him, just like the cross I wear around my neck, and the skirts I wear. A reminder to me, of who I am, and more importantly, who I serve.

So, in my private devotions I have been covering anyway. I kind of put doing it during church on the back burner because this whole, should I be Catholic decision popped up and took center stage. Now, as Easter draws near, and most of the other concerns are finally starting to climb into their boxes, this one has re-emerged. Lately I have been re-evaluating whether or not to cover my head in church, and know that while slightly more acceptable in the Catholic church (depending on your parish, no one at the one I am joining does) it's still not really that well received by many.

What has finally brought about my YES to veil during Mass (beginning after my baptism- though, I still am not sure if I should begin on Holy Saturday, after my baptism, wait until Easter, or next weekend...if anyone has thoughts on this, please share! I am really not sure when would be most appropriate!) is reflecting on what is veiled in the Church. Chalice, tabernacle, and crucifixes, and statues, toward the end of Lent. What do all of those things have in common? They are all sacred, precious reminders of our faith. They are all worthy of beginning veiled. They are all worthy of being hidden, so that when they are revealed we will once again be reminded of their beauty, importance, and significance. What is the one other thing that was once commonly veiled during Mass?

Women. So, beyond humbleness, beyond modesty, beyond 1 Corinthians is the Church saying; "YOU are worthy of being veiled." Whoa. How could one argue with that? Well, this one could not.

So, there you have it. That's why, and hopefully knowing that someone is making these choices will help someone else coming into the Church that was lost like me when all they wanted was a virtual hug to know they aren't the only one that has made these choices prior to entering the Church. The Catholic church is getting one more crazy traditionalist. I am so excited for this weekend! I am also nervous, as I know that these things may not be acceptable to those around me, but I have come to the conclusion that the only approval I need is God's. Remember, the world will hate us, because it first hated Him.

The Bread of Life in the feed box.

My sister as Mary, and my niece as Jesus in a
live Nativity at St. Anthony's Catholic Church
in December 2012

The other day I was reading something and it said something about Bethlehem meaning "house of bread" it was written in passing, like "here's a little factoid" and my brain pretty much exploded! The reason my brain exploded was that the second I read that, it clicked that a manger is a feed box. I was like "whoa, the Bread of Life (John 6:35) was born in the House of Bread, and placed into a feed box!" More proof for the Eucharist, which we all know I love, I mean, duh, "it's" Jesus, how could one that loves the Lord not love the Eucharist?  This is one of  my favorite things about the Word, no matter how many times you read it, you can always gain something new...if, and when God's ready to reveal it to you, of course. 

It's such wonderful foreshadowing. On the day He was born of the flesh, He was born in the 'House of Bread'-later He tells us; “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 6:35) in verse 51 He goes on to say; " I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” the symbolism of Him being laid in a manger-feed box-after His birth, is just so beautiful when paired with these later words. He begins His human life in a feed box, and later feeds thousands on little food, and now, with His presence in the Eucharist, feeds millions spiritually every day.  It's just amazing to me that He was in a feed box (in the House of Bread) and we feed on Him now. 

I talk about much more of the proof I found in the post I linked earlier, I just, I almost have no words! So many connections, so many references, it's just simply amazing, and awe-inspiring, I just can't get my brain around it fully, I'm just so excited I had to share that bit of insight...even though most of you are probably laughing that I JUST made that connection, and at my simple theology, but, hey, I felt I had to share. 

I am just awed by that symbolism, but not a bit surprised. Nothing is an accident where Christ is concerned, it all has deep purpose and profound meaning, we are just so blessed to be able to have small slivers of that revealed to us! Surprisingly I don't have much else to say about it, other than it's clearly foreshadowing the gift He later gives us, and that's amazing. And, God's amazing! And I'm stoked for the day I finally get to partake of that wonderful gift that Jesus gave us.

In Anticipation of Receiving the Body of Christ

Source

Communion has always been something that I have had great reverence for. I am very blessed that the church I attend has always, always reminded us to partake with great reverence and remembrance of the symbolism involved in partaking, they warned us every time we had it to only take part if we had examined ourselves and made sure that we were willing to cast aside anything that was keeping us from Christ. (1 Corinthians 11:27-32) Every time we took it we would be read the Gospel, and told to stay seated if we weren't going to cast aside those things keeping us from God. It was never, ever something taken lightly at my church. I have been in churches where they were like "Um, communion is on the table back there, grab some on the way out, if you want." At the time I was like "A representation of the body and blood of JESUS and you're treating it like it's a cookie after service?!?!?!?!?"

No. One does not just GRAB communion on the way out! ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I briefly mentioned my love of the Eucharist here.  Now, I want to expand on that. If you aren't familiar with the term, it's the consecrated bread and wine served during the Mass, AKA-the Body and Blood. So, like I said, I have always loved communion, and I am blessed to have come from a church that does as well, in fact, it's worth noting that I have seen more people not partake (that normally do) in my church than I have in all the months I have been attending the Catholic church....and we did it monthly, just throwing that out, Catholics.

Anywho, directly after my initial experience  for the following, oh three to four weeks every single time I turned around God would throw something else at me, until the moment I finally threw my hands in the air, and declared "Okay, God, you win! I'm going, I'll be Catholic if that's what you want so bad!" Then, peace like a river flowed through me, all the anxiety, all the worry, all the questions floated away in that moment. As soon as I surrendered to His will, when I finally gave in, all the beating me over the head with scriptures and truths just drifted away. Amazing how that works.

As I said, he was continuously revealing things to me, like every other day, HUGE things. Like, the second that first experience happened, the flood gates were opened, and the truths came pouring in. One of the initial truths He chose to reveal to me in the scriptures was the truth in the Eucharist.

I was minding my own business, reading John 6, which I've read a few dozen times, when all of a sudden Jesus's words struck me as they never had before: 

 ^"I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven,which anyone may eat and not die.  I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”

 Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves,“How can this man give us his flesh to eat?”

 Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them.  Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me.  This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.” He said this while teaching in the synagogue in Capernaum. 

 On hearing it, many of his disciples said, “This is a hard teaching. Who can accept it?”

Aware that his disciples were grumbling about this, Jesus said to them, “Does this offend you?  Then what if you see the Son of Man ascend to where he was before!  The Spirit gives life; the flesh counts for nothing. The words I have spoken to you—they are full of the Spirit and life. Yet there are some of you who do not believe.” For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him.  He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled them.”

 From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.

 “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve.

 Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.  We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.”

 Then Jesus replied, “Have I not chosen you, the Twelve? Yet one of you is a devil!” [John 6:48-70]

Now, maybe, like me you have read this before  and haven't paid much attention, I never did before this day, for whatever reason when I read it that day it hit me, I was like, "Wow, Jesus MEANT it" What really struck me was that many of them left. If He had only intended it as a loose representation of His body and blood He could have been like, "Hey, wait a minute, what I meant was after I'm back up in Heaven grab a shot of grape juice and a piece of cracker, as you rush out the door after church, and think of me for about a second while you do it." Then, they would have all been like, "Oh, okay, sweet." But, no, He was just like "So, the rest of you, chill with eating my flesh and drinking my blood, or you wanna go too?" and they had realized that He was who they said He was, and that He meant what He said, and no matter what He asked of them, they would do it, because that's what it takes to be a follower. 

Sometimes God puts some tough things on our hearts, like, um becoming Catholic, and being hurt by those you love, but as a true follower, you do it anyway. You do it because you know that what Jesus said is true, you do it because you know the Bible is the truth. This is what separates the true followers from the fair weather friends. You've heard me say before that the Bible is not a bag of trail mix in which you can pick out the M&Ms and leave the hard stuff for someone else. Those that left, only wanted the M&Ms, those faithful few that stayed knew that while the M&Ms were easier to chew, they'd also have to deal with some tougher stuff as well. And for Christ, they were willing. 

After I had this realization, I realized that I could never again partake of anything less than the body and blood of Christ. (and bothering my mom's priest of course, that poor guy deserves a medal for putting up with me! I tell ya!) What an amazing, wonderful, powerful gift that He has given us. The ability to have Him in us! What a powerful, amazing gift!  He said "this IS" IT IS His body, it IS His blood! Wow. How could I deny what was written right there in front of me? I couldn't. 

The more I looked at it, the more I realized the significance of Jesus feeding the 5,000 at the beginning of chapter 6. verse 26: "Jesus answered,  'I tell you the truth, you are looking for me, not because you saw miraculous signs but because you ate the loaves and had your fill.' "  The bread, which soon after He goes on to tell us is His flesh, all the people were fed, not only fed, but filled, and there was more than enough left over! What, then does that tell us about the body of Christ? Well, that tells us that He will feed us, and not only feed us, but give us all we need, spiritually, there is more than enough to go around! 

Verse 30-31: "So they asked him, “What sign then will you give that we may see it and believe you? What will you do?  Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written: ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’ "

Remember,  the Old Testament(which means covenant), is fulfilled in the New. So, in the Old Testament they were given physical bread from Heaven, meeting all of their physical needs, but what kind of bread are we now given? Well, Jesus said, in verses 32-33 "Very truly I tell you, it is not Moses who has given you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.  For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.”  And, who came down and gave life to world? Oh, that's right, JESUS! So, now the bread we're being given is Christ! Spiritual bread, in which Christ is wholly present, Bread that will fulfill all of our deeper needs. 

Let's keep reading, shall we,  “Sir,” they said, “always give us this bread.”

 Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.  But as I told you, you have seen me and still you do not believe. All those the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away. For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me. And this is the will of him who sent me, that I shall lose none of all those he has given me, but raise them up at the last day. For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.”-Verses 34-40. 

So, here we read that "everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life" and then in verse 48 Jesus begins to tell us the difference between the bread which is His flesh, and the manna in the dessert. What's the difference? "I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, yet they died. But here is the bread that comes down from heaven,which anyone may eat and not die.  I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever" 

The difference is, those that eat of His body, and drink His blood, those that believe in Him will receive everlasting life. Wow! He is really present, He really wants us to have Him in us, and to have everlasting life, He did this for us, He gave us this gift. They asked to always be given this bread, and He told them that He is this bread, and He will not lose those that The Father has given Him. That's us! 

My mind was completely BLOWN as I tried to process all this! I couldn't believe I had missed it before! How could I have missed it before? Well, I did, and then it was revealed, and now I can't wait for the Eucharist! I'll probably cry, I'll also probably need someone to hold me up so I don't collapse from utter excitement and joy on being able to partake of that marvelous gift! 

I never thought I could love something so deeply, anticipate it so much, when I have never truly experienced it, but I am waiting in great anticipation to truly receive Christ in me through the Eucharist, and His presence is why!