Having spent the entire Mass listening to the Word of God, increasing our hunger for the Lord, and praying through the Eucharistic Prayer, we now come to the moment of supreme joy, in which we come forward to receive Our Lord in this greatest of all gifts, the Holy Eucharist.

I have actually been thinking about this particular article for some time now, as I have often caught myself thinking, while distributing Holy Communion each day at Mass, noticing various things: “I’ll address that in a future article when I write about receiving Holy Communion.”  Well, now that that point in these reflections has come, I fear that I might not have enough space to put in writing all of the things that have been running through my head, but let me make a few observations.

First of all, please know that receiving Holy Communion at Mass is NOT required.  It is absolutely encouraged, but there may be circumstances when it is not possible to receive Holy Communion.  I could dedicate a full article, or two or three, on this topic, and perhaps that can be an appendix to these articles, but I just want to put that point out there.  The obligation to attend Mass each Sunday and Holy Day is not an obligation to receive the Eucharist.  Again, it is highly encouraged, but not absolutely required, and it is indeed virtuous to refrain from receiving if one is aware that they are not in a position to receive Our Lord.  If you are not able to receive, I highly recommend that you make an Act of Spiritual Communion.  

Next, let me say just a few things about our bodily postures when receiving Holy Communion.  Let me set the context by quoting what the Bishops of the United States have written on this topic:

The General Instruction asks each country’s Conference of Bishops to determine the posture to be used for the reception of Communion and the act of reverence to be made by each person as he or she receives Communion. In the United States, the body of Bishops has determined that “[t]he norm… is that Holy Communion is to be received standing, unless an individual member of the faithful wishes to receive Communion while kneeling” and that a bow is the act of reverence made by those receiving (no. 160).

Working backwards, the normal reverence made before receiving Holy Communion is a bow.  It is not uncommon for some of the faithful to genuflect before receiving Holy Communion.  Although I have no objection to this personally, I am mindful of what the Church is asking of us.  I can assure you, the Lord will not be offended if we put aside our preference for the sake of obedience what the Church asks of us.

Note also that the Church’s norm for receiving Holy Communion is standing, however in this case, there is an explicit permission given for receiving while kneeling if an individual member of the faithful should wish to receive in that way.  Once again, I offer no opinion on preference, for the Church offers both as valid options, but please avoid falling into playing the comparison game that often comes at this point of the Mass.  To presume that you are more reverent by kneeling to receive Holy Communion can be prideful.  If you receive while standing, and presume that those kneeling to receive are overly pious and somehow trying to make a show, that can be uncharitable.  So let us always keep obedience to the Church in mind, practicing humility regarding the legitimate preferences that can be exercised, and in all things, let us have charity in our hearts toward others as we prepare to receive the sacrament of charity in the Eucharist.

Well, this is what I was afraid of – having more to write than can fit in one article.  I will return in our next installment with a few more reflections on how it is we receive Holy Communion at Mass.

Father Alford     

Feast Day: May 5^th  
“God loves a cheerful giver.” – 2 Cor 9:7

When St. Paul writes to his little flock in Corinth he uses a particular word to describe generosity of a Christian – Hilaros / ἱλαρός – a kindness or stewardship that not reluctant, hesitant, forced, or begrudging, but is free, loving, joyous … cheerful! This is the root of the Latin term hilarus holding a similar meaning: lighthearted, merry, lively … cheerful. And that is the name St. Hilarius got when he was born! His surname, entirely pragmatic, would simply be “of Arles”, the diocese that he was bishop of at the end of his life. His life is (helpfully) bookended by an adjective and a location, and now prefaced by the title “Saint”, but there’s a bit more to his story than that.

Hilarius was born in Lorraine, France, around the year 403 A.D. We only know that he gave up a successful career to join St. Honoratus, possibly a relative, who had recently founded an Abbey on one of the islands of Lérin. Today you’d know where this is because it is located on the French Riviera, but back before 400, Roman records use the name “Lerina” to describe the uninhabited island. Caprasius of Lérins, a hermit, was the first person we know to live there, seeking solitude and prayer. Honoratus went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land with him, kindling a friendship, and his own sanctity, going on to become a hermit on the island as well. Honoratus found that his holiness attracted a following, so he established the first Abbey on the island in 410. Hilarius was drawn away from his career by the life and sanctity he saw in the Cistercian community there and joined the abbey when he was in his 20s. (Here’s a twist to the story, these saints may have met St. Patrick around this time, who is said to have spent some time in their abbey and was only 18 years older than Hilarius).

Now, Honoratus was both Abbot at Lérin, but also bishop of the important see of Arles. Hilarius became the natural successor of Honoratus as leader of the monastery when he died, and was also quickly picked to also be bishop of Arles. He was known for his austere life, his generosity to the poor, and for the emphasis he placed on the personal sanctity of his priests, organizing those assigned to his cathedral in Arles into a congregation of their own, committed with him to this life of simplicity and charity. 

But here is where the story takes a twist, and here is where this saint becomes a bit more like you and me. Hilarius, Bishop of Arles, also had responsibility over other sees in the area (perhaps nowadays we would call him the Metropolitan Archbishop, though it seems with greater authority over those regional bishops). He took this to mean that he was primate over the whole of South Gaul, something that an earlier predecessor, Patroclus of Arles had exercised. This, though, led to a power struggle with Bp. Chelidonus, of Besançon, who was claiming a similar authority. Hilarius deposed Chelidonus, who appealed to Rome, where Pope Leo I had recently succeeded to the papal throne. (That would be Pope St. Leo the Great, who was hard at work bringing Pelagians and Manicheans back into the fold, and who’s most famous deed, facing down Atilla the Hun, would not happen for another 7 or 8 years). 

Leo sided against Hilarius. 

Our saintly bishop was deprived of the right to consecrate bishops, call synods, oversee the other dioceses in his province, and his entire claim to be Primate of Gaul was abolished. Leo had this decision officially sanctioned by the Emperor, Valentian III, and we still have the line from his decree that must have so pained Hilarius, “ut episcopis Gallicanis omnibusque pro lege esset quidquid apostolicae sedis auctoritas sanxisset.” “Therefore, whatever the authority of the apostolic see had sanctioned shall be [law] for the Gallican bishops and for all the law.” (Novelae Valent. iii. tit. 16). We have no record of how Hilarius received this news; certainly it overturned his understanding of the responsibility given to him and more than likely it called into question all that he had been working on and all that he thought had been successful and fruitful about his work as a bishop or even a leader in the Church. But success is not a prerequisite for sanctity.

– Fr. Dominic has occasionally had his projects or plans taken away from him. It stings. But St. Hilarius offers an example to all of us that the sadness of seeing many years of work overturned or misunderstood, whether his fault or not, did not overturn the love that God had for him or the example of holiness that he could still give. We do not know exactly how he responded, but five years later when he passed onto his reward, the Church acclaimed him a saint. Whatever conversion was needed had happened; whatever grace Hilarius need to receive, or give, had been found. A cheerful giver, in many ways during his life, and certainly when it counted at the end.

The celebrant of the Mass is always the first person to receive Holy Communion, which is received slightly differently from how the rest of the faithful receive.  There is no minister to say to the priest: “The Body of Christ.”  If you pay close attention, you may see the priest whispering some words before he communicates.  Here is what he says: “May the Body of Christ keep me safe for eternal life.”  He says the same thing when receiving from the Chalice, with the exception of replacing the word “Body” with “Blood.”

In the resource that I mentioned last week, Explanation of Prayers and Ceremonies of Holy Mass, there is a beautiful reflection that helps us in understanding this prayer, not just as it applies to the priest, but as it applies to all who receive Our Lord in the Eucharist:

The Priest speaks as if he were to communicate but once only in his life. One communion would of itself be sufficient to preserve our soul unto Life Eternal, for such is the intrinsic efficacy of this Divine Sacrament, provided for our wants by God.

(Dom Prosper Guéranger, Explanation of Prayers and Ceremonies of Holy Mass, 64)

Although it may be a bit of a sobering thought, this reflection invites us to consider the final time we will receive Holy Communion.  At every Mass, it is quite possible that this may be the very last time we receive Holy Communion.  If we actually knew that to be the case, how differently would we prepare our hearts to receive Jesus in the Eucharist?  Again, this might be a bit of a sobering thought, and I do not mean to strike panic in our hearts by thinking of it, but we also have the rather ominous words that Jesus Himself left us: “Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.” (Mt 25:13)  So why wouldn’t we want to make every reception of Holy Communion as devout as possible, for it has the power to grant us eternal life!

The Church desires to feed her children with the Bread of Life at the very end of their earthly journey.  One of the so-called “Last Rites” is to receive Holy Communion as viaticum.  Here is what the Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “As the sacrament of Christ’s Passover the Eucharist should always be the last sacrament of the earthly journey, the ‘viaticum’ for ‘passing over’ to eternal life.” (CCC 1517)  There are people who receive viaticum at home or in their hospital beds as they are about to die, and there are those who, unknowingly, receive viaticum at the last Mass they ever attended.  There is actually something very consoling about this, for if the thought of not knowing when the Lord will come to call us home fills us with anxiety, we are given the peace of knowing that the last Eucharist we received is a powerful grace to help us in passing over into the promise of Eternal Life in Heaven.  All the more reason to make sure we are going to Mass every Sunday, if not more frequently, for doing so in the state of grace will be the best means we have of being prepared for that unknown day and unknown hour.

The fact that we do not know when it will be the last time we receive Holy Communion should make every time we receive Holy Communion special.  It reminds me of the words that St. Teresa of Calcutta asked to be printed in the sacristy of every chapel of the Missionaries of Charity for the priests to reflect on: “Priest of Jesus Christ celebrate this Holy Mass as if it were your first Mass, your last Mass, your only Mass.”  We can easily adapt that to our reception of Holy Communion, priest or not:  “Son/Daughter of Jesus Christ, receive this Eucharist as if it were your first Eucharist, your last Eucharist, your only Eucharist.”

Father Alford     

Feast Day: April 28^th 

Luchesio Modestini was far from living up to his surname. 

He grew up in the lovely and abundant region of Tuscany, in Italy (so, around the time, and not far from St. Francis). He had begun life, not unlike the poverello of Assisi, with dreams of being a soldier but had discovered the wealth and privilege that came from outfitting pilgrims on their way to Rome and had thus turned his dreams towards the life of a merchant and moneylender. His name meant “modest”, but he quickly outstripped that adjective, growing prosperous from his sales, marrying a woman we only know as “Buonadonna” [literally “lovely-woman”], and gaining a reputation as unfeeling and greedy. 

But around the age of 30 God’s grace broke into his comfortable life. 

We don’t know exactly what happened.  Did he encounter the newly converted St. Francis (they had known each other before both being merchants)? Did the pilgrims he was fleecing finally show him a joy that he didn’t find in money? Did a fellow merchant question why he was so fixated on wealth and success? We just know that he had the grace to realize the foolishness of striving merely for worldly goods, none of which would matter much in just a few more decades. He discovered that he had a soul. He discovered that eternal joy was more important that the passing delights he had given much of his early life to stockpiling. 

Now, it is always interesting to see how conversions actually play out because often the Lord’s converting our hearts does not happen instantaneously, and so was the case with Luchesio. He began simply, but concretely, but practicing the works of mercy – feeding the poor, going out of his way to help the sick or lonely, learning to love people again. And, alongside of this he resumed the life of a faithful Catholic – going to Mass, repenting of his sins, praying each day. It would not have seemed much to a time when most people lived that kind of life, but for Luchesio these were the small steps that allowed the tremendous gift of God’s joy and freedom to break back into his life. 

Buonadonna discovered a different, much better, person in her husband as he began this journey. Her own heart was moved away from the comforts and avarice that had been her highest goods to that point, and she discovered, like Luchesio, that what she really wanted – what really made her happy – was the life of a disciple, of generosity, piety, hope, and prayer. Together the couple decided to take a much more decisive step after the Lord: they gave away most of their property, retaining only enough land to provide for their daily needs, and leaving their hearts open to whatever God asked of them next. 

Many people in that region were being moved at this time by the example and words of St. Francis, though his only formal followers were the brothers who were forming the fledgling Order of Friars Minor (the First Order Franciscans) and the nuns beginning to collect around St. Clare (Second Order Franciscans). But then Luchesio and Buonadonna hosted the saintly deacon at their home in Poggibonzi, moving him by their story of conversion and penitence, and asking him for instructions on how to continue forward as a couple seeking radical holiness. 

St. Francis’s dream of developing a way of life for lay people to follow the call into simplicity and humility that God had given to him was inspired and concretized by this couple. Out of their friendship came what would become the Third Order of St. Francis, originally called simply the Order of Penance, but honed and expanded over the years to include not only lay people affiliated with the Franciscan Order but also the groups of active religious sisters who also live lives of poverty in the world, examples to all of us of Christ’s own freedom and utter dependency on God. 

Now, it wasn’t as if this couple lived their life as the first Franciscan Tertiaries perfectly for the rest of their days. There were times when Luchesio’s radical generosity was inconsiderate of Buonadonna; though then again, when once she frustratingly exploded when he gave away the last of their food, he gently asked her to look in the pantry again only to find it filled with the best of bread. Would we would see similar miracles if we chose similar confidence in God? They took plague victims into their home, risking their health, and the ridicule of others because they really saw Jesus in each invalid. 

Eventually Luchesio grew sick, and his distraught wife begged that she could die with him. “Implore God, who gave us to each other as companions in life, to permit us also to die together” she asked Luchesio. So they prayed, and so it happened. She died shortly before him, both having received the last sacraments before they passed.

– Fr. Dominic recently ran the Boston Marathon. He successfully discovered his own poverty at mile 24 when he found himself walking instead of setting a new (personal) record for the 26.2 mile race. Sometimes the Lord knows He needs to slow us down to a walk to help us discover what is really important in life, and maybe the path to radical holiness that you couldn’t see till then.