A Piece of the Big Host

It’s a little childish, I know.

But I love when I walk up for Communion, hold out my hands ready to receive the Eucharist, and the priest gives me a piece of the large host that he has just consecrated during Mass.

I know that Jesus is Jesus, and the Eucharist is the Eucharist. I realize that there’s no piece of consecrated bread that is more valuable or more special or more important than any other.

Any piece—every piece—of consecrated bread is Jesus. I believe that with my whole heart. And I try always to treasure that Jesus gives himself to me in that miraculous moment of the Mass.

But I can’t help but appreciate when I receive a piece of the large host that the priest elevated in front of the congregation. Sometimes, when that happens, I feel as if Jesus is giving me a little bit of a wink.

Jesus and I both know, it doesn’t matter whether I receive a piece of the large host or one of the many smaller hosts or a piece. What matters is that I receive the Eucharist. He knows this, and I know this.

But Jesus also knows that when I happen to receive a part of the large host, it makes me feel just a little closer to what happened on the altar. It might sound silly, but I sometimes wonder whether on those days God is seeing just how much I need to be fed and sustained by him that day.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” we pray. And he does—every day. He knows what we need. He gives us what we most need, even if we don’t know ourselves. And even though it truly doesn’t matter theologically or liturgically or in any other way whether I receive a small host or part of the large one, maybe God is seeing a need in my heart that is met through that little extra connection.

Not long ago at a crowded Sunday Mass, the priest gave me a piece of the large host. When he did, I was struck by a sense that I might especially need Jesus in the days ahead. That week turned out to be incredibly challenging. And, as I reflected on my journey the next Sunday, I thought back to that encounter during Communion. I realized Jesus had met me right where I was. He gave me a little nudge to remind me he was there. He saw me. He always sees me. And he reminded me in a way that he knew I would notice.

I’ve been thinking about this and whether it is wrong to care about receiving a piece of the large host rather than one of the smaller hosts. Then I read that St. Teresa of Avila liked receiving larger pieces of the Eucharist. In fact, when St. John of the Cross realized that, he started giving her small pieces instead. He was apparently trying to teach her humility, and there is a lesson in that for me, too. But it makes me feel better about how I smile inside when I receive a piece of the large host. I can do worse than do something St. Teresa of Avila did.

The Eucharist is the Eucharist. The Mass is the Mass. God’s love is God’s love. But we experience it differently at different times and in different places. Maybe it’s OK to acknowledge that sometimes those circumstances bring a little more joy, a heightened sense of wonder, and a deeper connection.

After all, regardless of how we receive Jesus in the Eucharist, he is there for me, just as he is there for you, and for each of us.

“Do you realize that Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you—for you alone?” St. Therese of Lisieux said. “He burns with the desire to come into your heart.”

May we also burn with the desire to receive Jesus however we may encounter him today.

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