My First Time at the Table, 20 Years Since

Twenty years ago, on Sunday, May 2, 1999, I approached the Table of the Lord for the first time to partake of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ at my First Holy Communion.

In the weeks leading up to that day, in addition to my regular Catechesis of the Good Shepherd classes, I had gone to special sessions where I learned more about what it would mean to partake of communion.

At two of these sessions, we baked monk bread, which had a browned kind of taste to it.  I much preferred the pretzels that we baked at a session in between the two.

We also spent time creating a clay chalice that we used at our First Communion Mass.

Above is my First Communion chalice, and below is the bottom, with my name and date.

And there was a session when we reflected on Jesus's teaching on the vine and the branches in the Gospel according to St. John chapter 15, and the catechists used a plant with vines to illustrate the discussion of it.  While I can't remember what words I used, I made a profound remark about connectedness that earned me the commendation of the catechists.

Then came May 2.  It's notable that my earliest memories of attending Mass were not inside a church building, but inside the gym of the St. Giles Parish School, where my family attended the St. Giles Family Mass, and where I went for Mass on May 2.

I think there may have been about a dozen of us first communicants in that group that day.  We all wore white gowns.  We processed in to the gym to our seats in front of our families as they admired us delightedly, while musicians up near the altar played on xylophones.  Just before this day, we gathered in the gym to review logistical details, and a woman specifically told us not to wave at our families, but rather use gestures like winking or smiling as we processed in.

The Family Mass community used baked bread for the Body of Christ, rather than the wafers that are used elsewhere.  I hadn't had any idea what the wine would taste like, so when I drank it for the first time on that May 2, I thought it tasted strange.

The celebratory mood continued even after Mass.  All the first communicants gathered in the far side of the gym from the altar to have cake.  My Grandma Vel had a photo of me hanging up in her house for a long time, taken by a professional photographer photographing at the Mass.  This particular photo shows me at the cake table with my hands clasped together in a prayer position, with my elbows on the table.  My Grandma thought that in the photo, I was praying to Jesus, having just partaken of Him.  When she asked me about it, I said that in my pose, I was eagerly awaiting a piece of cake.  She chuckled when she heard that and then said she would think of me in a prayer pose in that photo anyway.

Having no memories of the day of my baptism, my First Communion Mass was the first time I celebrated a special sacramental milestone in my life that I could remember.  The mood at Mass certainly set the tone well for the joyous occasion.  The celebration continued at home, including another cake, which was specially decorated.

Taken together with what I experienced during the formation sessions, I knew something special had just happened to me, which I would come to appreciate even more as time passed.

I embraced faith more around the time I entered middle school, and began enjoying the experience of Mass more than when I was younger.  At a certain point in middle school or high school, I would use the Anima Christi prayer in the time between partaking of communion and the prayer after communion to gain a more profound sense of what communion is.  I was drawn to attend Mass, to experience the richness of the liturgy, which has persisted throughout the centuries and is made new each time we gather.  And there was a specific mood set to the Scripture readings for the Mass, and even the symbols and the liturgical season at hand in which I also found much meaning.

My appreciation for attending Mass grew even deeper when I went to college.  It was the first time in my life I experienced strongly the sense of connectedness in the Eucharist.  While away from home, I was hearing the same readings, and partaking of the same Body and Blood of Christ, just like those back home.  I began to appreciate this sense of connectedness even when I attended Mass at other churches when traveling elsewhere.

And I experienced a sense of connectedness today when I went back to attend St. Giles Family Mass to mark the 20th anniversary of my First Communion.  My memories of the St. Giles Parish School gym are framed by my childlike perceptions, so walking into the gym for the first time in over 15 years felt like I was walking into a child-sized play pen as person of mature adult size, and I had to get my bearings a little bit.

The gym where St. Giles Family Mass is celebrated

It just happened to be the First Communion Mass for three girls in the Family Mass community.  The worship aide mentioned the first communicants wore white to symbolize the baptismal gowns, a symbol of our Christian dignity, which we are called to carry unstained to the judgment seat of Christ, a task we are strengthened to fulfill by the nourishment we receive in the Body and Blood of Christ, which made me think back to the white gown I wore.

I kept an eye out for any one I might recognize, and after Mass, I got talking with a number of people I remember from years back, including some of my catechists.  It is wonderful that the time I spent attending the Family Mass and the connections I made while learning about faith in catechesis classes forged bonds that still persist even after all these years.

As I made my way home, I stopped at Ascension to congratulate the daughter of a woman I taught RE with a few years ago, who just made her first communion.  And I was immediately invited over to their house to join in celebrating her daughter's first communion, which was a lovely way to rejoice in what communion means, for her, and even for me on my anniversary.

Indeed, partaking of the nourishment of Christ connects us to Christ and His Body, the Church.

I experienced that sense of connectedness in a profound new way when attending World Youth Day in Panama City, as I could feel in union with Roman Catholics from all over the world who gathered there to celebrate being one in faith.

During communion at the WYD Closing Mass, we sang a song that I later found out was the theme song for the 1993 World Youth Day gathering in Denver.  The song truly speaks to what I have come to understand about the Eucharist:

I played this song for my students last week Tuesday as part of my farewell words of encouragement during our final time together for RE class.  It was so apt to celebrate the end of another year of RE with my students in such close proximity to to the anniversaries of my baptism, falling on a Sunday in 2019 just as it did in 1991, and my first holy communion, because RE has been a way I can make something of the faith that was kindled by those two sacramental events.

Just as I remain connected to those communities that helped nourish my faith, so I remain connected to all those in any faith community of which I have been a part.  These are communities where, in worship, we experience connection to Christ and the Church, which gives us life, and nourishes us so that we bring His Presence into the world, especially in serving those in need, all to His Glory, doing so in His love, which Father Carl in his homily at Mass today said is the one criteria God has for serving Him.

And we keep coming back to partake of Christ's Body and Blood, so that, just like branches on the True Vine, we can continually be nourished and strengthened for the work He has called us to accomplish as His people.