Broken Bread
Introduction
In his ascension to the right hand of the Father, Jesus
promised he would not leave us orphans but would be with us to the end of time
(Jn 14:14; Mt 18:20). He kept his
promise by sending us his Holy Spirit. We celebrated that last Sunday with the
feast of Pentecost. He has also kept his promise to be with us always by giving
us the Eucharist. We celebrate that today with the feast of the Solemnity of
the Body and Blood of Christ. In days past we called it the feast of
With a bit of nostalgia some of us remember how we
used to celebrate
The journey out
of our Eucharistic past
Since Vatican II we’ve made a journey of a
light-year out of our Eucharistic past. For
example, in the old days when it came time for Communion, only twenty to thirty
people out of a packed congregation would rise to take Communion. Only those
who had gone to confession and considered themselves in the state of sanctifying
grace (something you turned off and on like a switch) rose to communicate. The rest of the faithful, who considered
themselves in the state of mortal sin, remained nailed to their pews. That has changed
dramatically. Now a whole congregation
of sinners rises to communicate. That new practice resonates better, it seems, with
the words of Jesus who said, “I have come not for the righteous but for the
sinner” (Mt
In the past we were warned about making bad confessions
and bad Communions. A bad confession was hiding some sin in the confessional or
not confessing it correctly. A bad Communion was going to
Communion with a mortal sin on your soul and not confessing it first. You don’t
hear much talk about that anymore except on EWTN, and I always keep forgetting
that the younger generation has no idea what we’re talking about.
In the past we were scrupulous about touching the
Eucharist. Only the consecrated hands of an ordained male could touch the
Blessed Sacrament. Now the faithful
receive Communion in the hand. Now lay
men and women are ministers of the Eucharist. Now the faithful after Sunday
Mass carry Communion in pixes to loved ones sick at home. Now also we hear the
rumblings of a great debate that’s trying to get off the ground and just won’t
go away, especially as the shortage of priests gets more acute by the day. It’s
the debate about the ordination of married men and even of the ordination of women
to celebrate the Eucharist.
Since Vatican II we’ve made a journey of a light-year
out of our Eucharistic past. Almost
everything has changed except one thing: the Eucharist remains central to
Catholic faith. We come fifty-two times a year to celebrate it. As a priest of
a good fifty years who has made that journey of a light-year out of our Eucharistic
past, I have my own insight and characterization of that remarkable and
never-imagined change. It is this: in the past we emphasized Jesus’ presence in
the bread. In the new day we emphasize Jesus’ presence in the breaking
of the bread. That’s much more than
just semantics.
In the bread
In the past we recognized Jesus in the bread. So we gazed upon the bread held on high at the elevation of the Mass,
and we even rang a bell then to make sure that everyone was gazing on Jesus
present in the bread. In those days Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament was a great favorite. The priest would take the Host out of the dark
tabernacle and insert it into the monstrance which he’d place high upon the
altar so that all might gaze upon Jesus present in the bread. There was a kind
of salvation in all that, just as there
was when Moses lifted up the bronze snake on a pole in the desert, and all who
looked upon it were saved (Jn 3:14).
In the breaking of the bread
In the new day the emphasis is on Jesus’ presence in
the breaking of the bread. That’s scriptural.
On Easter morning as two of the disciples are walking and talking on the road
from
A rubric broken
Remember the lady from
out of town who happened to stumble into the
I basically follow the rubrics
laid down for the celebration of
Bread not broken and shared at a funeral
When bread is not really broken and shared
at Mass, then there’s no recognizing the Lord.
Not too long ago I concelebrated at the funeral Mass of a very dear
friend who died in the operation room as his wife and I were anxiously waiting outside.
I participated at the funeral Mass, not as the chief priest but as the
homilist. Everything went off well enough until Communion time. Then something
happened which jarred and marred and almost invalidated everything, at least
for me. The chief priest said, “Catholics may now come up and receive Holy
Communion!” What in the world could those words possibly mean? Catholics know
when it is time to come up and receive Communion. His words could only mean, “The rest of you are
excluded!” For me that quite soundly invalidated the sweet bread of Communion
and turned it into the bitter bread of exclusion. The Lord was to be recognized
in the breaking of the bread, and at the last moment the blessed breaking of
bread was called off, and there was no Lord to be recognized.
Bread broken and shared at Old St. Mary’s
A blessed bread-breaking took place here at Old St. Mary’s
a few weeks ago. When Margaret Butter, a well-known lady here in Milwaukee and
wife of Roy Butter a parishioner of Old St. Mary’s, died, her daughter-in-law,
the Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter (an ordained Presbyterian minister) and I officiated at Margaret’s funeral in a
cemetery chapel. Rev. Sarah did the
first reading from the Book of Proverbs which sings the praises of a woman who
is a good mother, wife, and manager of her household. She read with great
clarity and much feeling. At the final commendation the Rev. Sarah invited the
crowd in the cemetery to draw near to the casket which was being kissed by a
consoling sun on a day filled with the feel of fall. She pulled everyone into a
heartfelt final good-bye. A few Sundays ago the Rev. Sarah was here at mass
with her husband, daughter and father-in-law. Thank God that the chief priest
at the Mass didn’t say, “Catholics may now come up and receive Communion.” All
felt invited and all came up. Bread was broken between Presbyterians and
Catholics, and in the breaking of the bread both of us recognized the Lord.
Bread broken and shared at
A few years ago when our Archdiocese was in a
crisis and we were all in deep pain, our spirits were lifted up every now and
then by reports of great magnanimity which balanced off the depressing mean-spiritedness
of some in those day. I was particularly inspired by the Rev. Mary Ann Neevel,
formerly pastor of the Plymouth Congregational Church here in
The old Baltimore Catechism taught that to be a fit
candidate for the priesthood (a) one must be a baptized Catholic, (b) one
must be a male and unmarried, (c) one must be ordained. The most important
element of all is missing: to be a worthy candidate for the priesthood and celebrant
of the Eucharist one must be a good
breaker of bread. The Rev. Sarah Sarchet Butter and the Rev. Mary Ann Neevel are
great bread-breakers, and that would make them worthy celebrants of the Eucharist.
The bottom line is whoever knows how to break bread well, whether married or unmarried, whether male or female, should for that reason especially be considered a worthy candidate for priesthood. If the truth of that bottom line doesn’t force us to listen, at least the present crisis should. That’s the crisis of a dying priesthood. With a dying priesthood dies Eucharistic life. They keep telling us that the Eucharist is the center of our religion and defines us as Roman Catholics. If that’s true then it is a scandal to merely patch up our crisis of a dying priesthood instead of really fixing it, especially when there’s a way to fix it. With a dying priesthood die also our parishes. As we speak the Church of the Three Holy Women is about to be connected in some strange way with another holy lady--Old St. Mary’s. It’s a scandal to merely patch up our crisis of dying parishes instead of really fixing it, especially when there’s a way to fix it.
Here’s another scandal hot off the press. This past
Thursday, June 15th, US bishops, yielding to
Conclusion
Everyone wins
If we would fix what’s really broken everyone would win. Healthy young men, who want to minister but who also want to marry, would win. Women, too, who can do just as good a job (and also just as bad a job) as men do, would also win. Those three holy women who had to join a coalition with a funny name would also win. They’d each get back their own individual parish with its own special name, and they’d each have their own priest again. That young priest, who has to pony-back like a circuit judge of the old days to four different churches would win. He’d have help and wouldn’t have to burn himself out before his time. And I, too, would win; I’d be able to retire before I’m ninety.