"All Jesus, all the time"

I received my first communion when I was a 17-year-old college freshman. No white dress, no veil - no one knew it would occur that Sunday evening. Least of all me.

I had gone to my college's Sunday evening mass to support my friend's roommate in her first performance with the college choir. It was my first venture into a non-Easter Sunday service, and I found it fascinating and unnerving at the same time. I didn't know the lingo - as a non-practicing Catholic, my service knowledge stopped right after the Our Father and Hail Mary - and I was amazed to hear everyone around me participating with ease.

When everyone rose to take communion, I looked wildly at my friend. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't sit - everyone around me was moving.

"Just go up with everyone else, but you don't have to do anything - you'll be able to walk right past," she replied. "The international students do the same thing."

Relieved, I focused on the back of the person in front of me as we moved forward, until I looked up and realized I was standing before the head priest. He held out the communion - and I blanked and took it, saying "Thank you."

My friend grabbed me before I reached the sacrificial wine and steered me away. "You were supposed to hold your hands over your chest and just keep walking!"

Well, she hadn't told me THAT part.

I got home and called my mother to tell her I'd inadvertantly taken communion. She laughed as I explained my confusion and the sudden realization that "I couldn't exactly say no to the HEAD PRIEST!"

"What did you do?"

"I took it and said thank you."

"THANK YOU?! Don't you realize? In church, if you don't know what to say, just say AMEN!"

She was cackling with laughter as she shouted to my father in the other room. "Guess what your daughter did in church tonight??"

I could hear him in the background. "What was she doing in church? She didn't even really like catechism when she went to that!"

She relayed the story, stopping on occasion to laugh. She sighed and returned to me on the phone.

It's a sad day, she told me, when you realize you've somehow raised a hapless heretic.

Happy Easter, boys and girls.