At a chilly and quiet Mass on Saturday evening (in an
exquisite old chapel built after an epidemic
centuries ago), I found myself very forcefully struck by the power of
the Communion – what the President of the United States called ‘the little
cracker’. And meditating on it afterwards, it occurred to me that that power
comes from a threefold source (quite proper for a Trinitarian Godhead).
In the first place, Lord, here it is I who dare to confront
Thee, to come into Thy presence. In the old days you came to Communion only if
you were properly and officially shriven, and you were told that if you took
Communion in an unworthy state, you would ‘eat and drink unto yourself
damnation’. For reasons I’ll explain below, this is quite properly not insisted
upon nowadays, but the coming into the Presence as, after all, a bit of a worm
and no man, a somewhat wretched specimen all things considered, is pretty good
cheek, or would be if Thou hadst not specifically invited us in our full decrepit creepitude. So here I am, before Thee, Lord, and Thou givest Thyself to me. I
take Thee and I am redeemed – by the skin of my teeth. Completely overwhelming.
Secondly, here am I and – as Thou promisedst to those who
have real faith, however wobbly and bumpy – Thou comest to take up Thy dwelling
within me, even in the most basic physical dimension. I as Thy cottage in the South of France? I am
fulfilled beyond imagining.
Thirdly – and here I come to a good reason not to insist too
strongly on being in a ‘worthy’ state – what I am given is waybread, manna: a strange food unlike any other, that will
strengthen me, uphold me, and see me through the next bit of wilderness on my
winding wilful way to Thee. Astounding. I am fed. I can go out of here and go
on.
And all of this at once, in ten seconds, in something the wind could blow away. I came out trembling. With the winter cold, but mainly in awe.
