“The Body of Christ.” “Amen.” Step to the side. “The Body of Christ.” “Amen.” Step to the side… For most Catholics, this is the ritual at Mass. We are trained to, at the proper time, stand, fold up our kneeler, wait in line for our turn, receive Jesus, then walk back to our pew via the proper path. It’s been the same for decades—and how quickly it can become automatic, almost robotic. This is just what we do at Mass.

But a danger in these repeated actions is that our minds easily go elsewhere, allowing the world to creep in. Here we are, receiving the greatest gift given to us as Catholics, the Source and Summit of our faith, and we are thinking about sports or wondering how quickly we can escape the parking lot after Mass.

As much as I wish it was otherwise, I fully understand how easy it is to fall into distractions—because I’m there too. It is all too easy to get distracted from reality—from entering into the beauty and mystery of the liturgy. When I celebrated Mass at the beginning of my priesthood, it was much easier to be in awe of what was happening through me: that my hands were holding the God of the universe, that Christ was using me to spiritually feed and nourish His flock. But now, how easy it is to think of other things. Do we have enough Extraordinary Ministers for Holy Communion? I’m dreading that hard conversation this afternoon. We are singing this song again for Communion… My mind gets distracted even when face-to-face with Christ Himself.

In those moments, I have to catch myself and intentionally refocus. I have to remember the joy of being a priest, of being Catholic and being able to receive the Most Blessed Sacrament. When I’ve brought Holy Communion to the homebound, many tear up in joy at the opportunity to receive Him, an opportunity they no longer take for granted. After being ordained a deacon, I recall the excitement in my grandparents’ voices over the phone when, during the COVID-19 shutdown, they learned they could receive the Eucharist from me. I think about the priests who smile while distributing Communion because of how much that simple act of smiling has affected their flock.

I also imagine the joy that Jesus’ closest followers would have had after the Resurrection. The man they followed for three years, who taught them so much, who performed incredible miracles and loved them to the end: He seemed to be dead. The depth of their sorrow would have led to incredibly joyful reunions when Christ appeared to them! Peter jumps out of the boat and swims to Jesus on the shore. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus realize that their hearts were burning within them the entire time they walked. Mary Magdalene went in haste to share this joy- filled news with the apostles. And Thomas, after doubting, could only utter in awe, “My Lord and My God,” when he finally got to see Christ truly alive before him.

And is that not how we are called to receive this great gift of the Eucharist? With joy? With tears in our eyes at the privilege and opportunity before us? To jump out of our pews to reach Him at the shore? To feel our hearts burning within us as we unite physically and spiritually with the Lord? To just simply adore Him and whisper, “My Lord and My God” with complete love and trust?

So whether you are celebrating Mass or coming forward to receive Communion, do not take the action for granted. Recognize that this is the Lord who loves you, who desires to be close to you, who humbles himself time and time again, at every Mass, to be with you.

And that is something to rejoice in.

This article appeared in the April 2025 edition of The Catholic Telegraph Magazine. For your complimentary subscription, click here