This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

There are many portions of the Liturgy of the Mass that resonate with me. It does something to my heart when I hear Father proclaim, This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Likewise, I am humbled when I say the words, I am not worthy to receive You, but only say the word and I shall be healed.


Power-filled words. Truth. Life. There is nothing boring or redundant about this Liturgy. Like Peter, I know these are the words of life. Like Peter, I find myself saying where else can I go? This is where my soul is at home. This is where I find peace.


By nature, I am an anxious person. I worry about everything. Everything.


My children, my husband, my extended family. My students, their parents, the lesson plans. My dog and my house. I worry about what I will say, what I should have said, what I did say. I worry about what I will do, what I should have done, and what I actually did do.


I have sought peace on my knees many times, and sometimes peace has come.


I have put the day’s activities aside to enjoy some entertainment and a diversion from the chaos.


I have sat at the piano or called a friend or sent an e-mail, hoping for respite from my self-imposed stress.


Sometimes, these things work. Sometimes, I find peace and respite from the storms of life, but there is one place that has never failed to erase the anxiety. There is one place that I have always, always experienced grace, and I am freed from the concerns of my little life. Free us from all anxiety. Powerful words. Grace-filled words. Truth. Life.


The Liturgy of the Mass. In the Mass, I am healed and freed. In the Mass, I have some sense of what it was like when Our Lord walked up to someone, touched him, and said, Be healed. And the man went away dancing for joy.


Jesus, Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world, grant us peace. Become the Master of our angry seas. And help us to walk on the waters, with our eyes clearly set on you.

This One is for Cindy. . . reprinted by special request for her daughter

Unity in the Eucharist and the Mass

There is a moment during every Mass when heaven touches down to earth. The Church Triumphant and all the holy angels pierce the veil that separates time from eternity. In that moment, we kneel as one before the Lamb. In that moment, we have one heartbeat.

And in that moment, Jesus Christ is lifted high. A piece of bread and chalice of wine no longer exist.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells His disciples that they must eat his body and drink his blood. He repeats it again and again throughout chapter six. Jesus warns them, if you do not eat my flesh or drink my blood, there is no life in you (6:53).

We can imagine the complaints our Lord’s words generated because they are the same complaints many Christians voice today (6:52). That can’t be what you mean, Lord. You’re speaking metaphorically, right?

No, Jesus tells them, my flesh is real food. My blood is real drink (6:55). They are stunned and many of His followers leave Him that day. But twelve remain (6:67-68). A year later, Jesus institutes the Sacrament of Holy Communion at the Last Supper, again using the words this is my body, this is my blood. They eat and they drink (Matthew 26:26-18; Mark 14:22-24; Luke 22:19-20).

And they have life. From that life, a Church grows and covers the earth.

Read the early writings of Church Fathers. They all believed in the Real Presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist. For centuries, nobody wanted to leave the Catholic Church because that was where Jesus Christ could be found – literally. For you see, the Eucharist has been the center of Christian unity from the very beginning because the Eucharist is Jesus Christ.

I remember a conversation I had with a priest when I was considering the Catholic Church. Father Larry Brunette told me that everything comes down to what I believe about Holy Communion. If I could accept Jesus Christ at His Word, I would continue this faith journey. If I could not believe in the Real Presence, the journey would come to an end right there. Basically, the Protestants who are able to connect the Jesus they already adore with the Jesus present in Holy Communion are never content until they come home to the Catholic Church. (Then the priest suggested a little book called The Lamb’s Supper by a former Presbyterian minister by the name of Dr. Scott Hahn, which I highly recommend - see also YouTube clip below).

I considered the priest’s words. Could I really believe that Jesus Christ was present in the Eucharist? Could I take the Lord’s words literally? I wasn’t sure. That was a monumental leap of faith. I realized that Jesus never said, this is like my body or this is like my blood. There was no indication of metaphorical language – unlike the passages in which the Lord says the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed (Matthew 13:31), or like a pearl (13:44-46) or like a king who gave a wedding feast (Matthew 22:2). If it really is Jesus’ body and blood, what else could He have said to make them (or me) believe? Probably nothing. Some people would argue with St. Peter – or Christ Himself.

I began to pray as I sat through Mass. Lord, if that is really you up there, help me to believe. Week after week I would watch intently as the faithful received the Lord, and miraculously, I began to believe. In time, scriptures I had committed to memory came back to me and underscored this Teaching. Even the Old Testament seemed to be a finger pointing in this direction. The Passover Lamb (Exodus 12:6-9, 13). Manna from heaven (Exodus 16:4). Melchizedek, the priest-king, and the gifts of wine and bread (Genesis 14:18 and Psalm 110:4).

I weep tears of joy almost every time I receive Our Lord in the Eucharist. There’s something indescribably wonderful about walking forward to receive my Lord and knowing that Jesus Christ is willing to humble Himself and come inside of me. And then I kneel. A gentle quiet comes, and at first, I think I’m in charge of the quieting in my spirit.

But then there’s peace, and it is the kind of peace that can’t be generated by sheer will and determination. It is divine peace. The Lord of the Ages has found a home inside of me! And there is absolutely no denying that He is there. It is sweet – sweeter than anything on earth. And I realize that I’m crying again, and it doesn’t seem to matter if anyone notices.

I’ve talked to some who have been Catholic for many years, and I’ve asked them if it’s always like that. The answer is no. Sometimes it’s a matter of walking in faith even when there are no spiritual warm fuzzies. But even then, there are hidden graces. For you see, this Most Blessed Sacrament is efficacious. It isn’t always grace-filled tears that come. Sometimes, it’s the grace to be faithful to the call, come hell or high water. Sometimes, it’s the grace to live a quiet, but holy life. Sometimes, it’s the grace not to live, but to die.

In that Most Blessed Moment, we hear Jesus Christ speak, and He says the words once again, Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20).

Unity in the Eucharist and the Mass