a moment of grace

Today, the bishop came to celebrate Mass with us at St. Columba. The entire thing was beautiful. He gave a most thought-provoking homily on who our neighbors really are. The church was packed. The Vietnamese choir and our choir shared the music duties. The first reading and the psalm were spoken and sung in Vietnamese. This is the weekend of the parish festival and so the bishop made the rounds afterward, stopping to visit with everyone.

Something very personal happened at Mass. I wasn't playing during Communion (the Vietnamese were singing) so I had an opportunity to join the congregational procession. (I usually receive with the altar servers in the sanctuary before I begin playing the Communion hymn.) I was excited when I figured out I could go through the first pew and receive Holy Communion from the bishop. (I LOVE receiving from bishops!) Well, I forgot that Dolores, who always sits in the front pew, stays put because of her infirmities and inability to walk fast. (I think I surprised her by my sudden appearance right next to her!) Holy Communion comes to her...and so I was stopped, dead in my tracks, to stand next to her. A second of resentment flashed through me and then it seems the Holy Spirit got hold of me. Deacon Tom came over and brought Holy Communion to both of us as we stood, side by side. Then, an Extraordinary Minister came over with the Precious Blood. As I reflected on the moment as I prayed right after, I realized what a blessing God had given to me to receive Holy Communion with Dolores who is ALWAYS alone in the pew and who smiles at me encouragingly as I play for Mass. (She is in my vision as I sit at the piano.) After Mass, I went over to talk with her. She told me she had had the same exact reaction--that the moment became very special to her, too! I said, at that moment, I was thankful for her infirmity because it had become a moment of grace, a humbling moment, in my life. She was very touched that it had meant so much to me because, she said, it had meant a lot to her, too.

From this, I figured out that it doesn't matter from whom we receive Our Lord, just as long as we receive Him. I told this story to the bishop after Mass and he said we might think the donkey was pretty special, carrying Our Lord into Jerusalem, but it didn't matter which donkey it was, as long as Jesus was brought there. I asked, in mock horror, if he was equating Deacon Tom with a donkey. He said, "No, no, of course not!" (I think he was a little horrified that I'd come up with that analogy!) I thought it was appropriate, though, for him to say what he did because what I really saw was that it doesn't matter the mode in which we receive Jesus, as long as we do.