One Bread

I was fine until the Liturgy of the Eucharist began; my heart raced and my palms became sweaty.  I didn't have to give out Communion--I could nonchalantly remain in the pew.  Few would notice my absence from the altar when the time came. 

"Good luck, Mom," Emily smiled.  Emily would notice my absence.  I said a prayer, looked the crucifix and debated my worthiness, and stood up.  I slowly walked to the altar and received Communion from the Monseigneur.  He then handled me the ciborium.

My fingers trembled as I held the golden bowl in my hand.  I walked down the marble stairs and took a deep breath.  Years of Catholic schooling and attending the Mass gave no indication of how I would feel distributing Communion.  It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, and I felt unworthy.  As our Deacon said in our training session we are called to distribute the Sacrament--God moves us to volunteer.

I distributed Communion to Emily, and she smiled as she took the Host from my trembling fingers.  I made eye contact with each Communicant and reverently distributed the sacrament.   I handed the ciborium back to one of the priests and took my seat.  I didn't cry, but my soul trembled.

Lectoring I enjoy.  I prepare for the readings and use all of my English literature training to deliver the Scripture passages with authority.  I am not awe-struck of that particular service to the parish community because I expect to be able to read and speak clearly. 

Distribution of Communion was something entirely different--a different kind of closeness to God, a different kind of ministry.  One that frightens me because I was so moved by the Sacrament:. I understood more completely than at any other time the words to the traditional Communion hymn:   One Bread.  One Body.  One Lord of All.  And We, though many, throughout the earth, we are one body in this one Lord.