First Eucharist

The truth of the Eucharist hit me early on in the conversion process, where many theological truths hit me: on the treadmill.  Somewhere between trying to convince myself to go one more mile, and hanging on to every word of a worship song, I realized that Jesus really did mean what he said; his flesh was real food, his blood was real drink, and whoever ate and drank of it had eternal life. 

The words of John 6, which I had been studying and contemplating for months, came to a crashing halt while I ran, and I knew then I would spend the next year hungering for Him until I could finally do that, in remembrance, of Him. 

I have been asked questions about the Eucharist. What did I think would happen when I ate the piece of bread?  How can I believe that Jesus was speaking literally when he also claimed to be the door, the water, and vine?  Can I say that the day on which I would receive Him for the first time will be better than the day that I first invited him into my heart? 

Some of those questions are hard to hear when one is in a small way, staking everything that they believed on a seemingly simple, piece of bread.  But after reading enough history of the early Church, what they believed and wrote about the Eucharist, after reading Paul and his insistence; "the bread that we break, is it not a participation in the body of Christ" and after really discerning Jesus's words in John 6, I knew, that was no ordinary bread.  Although he calls himself many things in Scripture, his insistence in John was different from his analogy of a vine, or a door.  People never walked away and claimed his thoughts on doors were too hard to accept.  They did, however, leave him at the end of John 6.

The Eucharist is hard to wrap our human minds around.  How can a piece of bread actually become Jesus?  As he reminded his followers that night, "It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail."  We cannot find the words or the thoughts to believe this by our own human wills.  The flesh is corrupt, unbelieving, and at times, blinded. (Romans 8:6).  Yet the spirit within us groans with heavenly truths that are only revealed to us by the grace of the Father. (Romans 8:26 and Matthew 16:17).  Just as Jesus hid his Divinity under the appearance of a man, so too does he hide his divinity under the appearance of bread and wine.  What we cannot see with our eyes can be opened with our hearts.

And so on the night of Easter Vigil, when I walked up to receive Jesus in the bread and the wine for the first time, when the day of my treadmill run had come full circle, so many thoughts flooded through my mind.

I came thankful for my upbringing in a faithful Christian home.  Thankful that I was taught to love Scripture, to search for truth, and to have confidence that truth could be found. 

I came thankful for the journey of conversion.  Thankful that for two years He had called me by name into this place, and for two years he had walked every step of the way with me, even when it was hard, or lonely, or painful.

I came thankful for the friends that sat in the pew in front of me.  Thankful for their amazing examples of Catholicism as a living and vibrant body of Christ in which I had found support and love.

I came thankful for the family members who came for that night, and the ones who were encouraging even though not present.  Because even though they may not have understood our desire to become Catholic, they love Jesus, and they supported, for love of us. 

I came thankful for the priests who had talked with us, prayed for us, from a distance and within our home parish.  Thankful that they who had dedicated their lives to the Church and to Christ had sacrificed so much so that I could now be one with my Savior.

I came in honor of my friend who cannot yet receive Jesus, although she yearns so greatly for Him.  I came because in the incomprehensible, amazing body of Christ, we have the ability to fill up what is lacking among our fellow members. 

I came thankful for my husband who walked beside me.  Thankful that even though a few weeks before I had seen frustration and concern in his face, this night,  I saw complete peace.  This night, together,  my beloved spouse led me humbly and joyfully to the fullness of my heavenly One.

I came thankful for this first step in my families life of faith within the Catholic Church.  Knowing that although this night was particularly special, it was only the beginning of a lifetime journey.  I came to the Eucharist so that one day my kids might be drawn to it, so that the ripple effect of a conversion would continue as far as the Lord saw fit. 

I came, because on the road to Emmaus, after the two disciples had walked, talked, and listened to Jesus, they still were unaware of the risen Lord beside them.  Their hearts had been set aflame with Scripture, history, the past and present events from Moses to the current day, but it was only in the breaking of the bread that their eyes were open and they saw Jesus.  It was after he did that that they remembered his words to do this.   (Luke 24).  I came to the Eucharist because the Bible itself proclaims that it is here, ultimately, where I find most fully, a union with my Savior.

As I ran on the treadmill that day, I received the grace of desiring Jesus; body, blood, soul, and divinity in the Eucharist.  It seemed like a very long time from that day to the night of Easter Vigil.  But I am thankful for the journey, thankful for my Emmaus Road, thankful for all of the people who the Lord used and continues to use in my life that have become for me living examples of lives lived among the Eucharist.  For this is his body, broken for me.  May I always remember to do this, in remembrance, of Him.