Approaching the Eucharist with reverence, zest, contrition

During this Year of the Eucharist, parishioners throughout the Archdiocese of Philadelphia will share their testimonies of faith in the Real Presence of Jesus in the Most Blessed Sacrament. One of these heart-felt stories may re-ignite the faith of someone who is struggling to accept this inestimable mystery of our Faith. Together, let us discover Him anew.
Being a 15-year old girl with a Roman Catholic belief in today’s world can be extremely difficult at times. Believing in God can be hard, because sometimes you lose someone close to you and you stop believing in God because of that. That also can cause you to stop praying and going to church.
A few years ago, I lost someone who was extremely close to me. I had lost my great grandma, who was like a mother to me. Because I was so young, my mother told me she went to go to God’s house, and at the time I was unaware that was heaven. Each day I would come home from third grade and I would ask my Mom when was Nana coming home. My Mom would reply she was not sure if she was going to be home anytime soon.
After a month, my dog, Fluffy, died, and I stopped believing in God. We were all extremely overwhelmed, and I stopped praying. I thought God had stopped loving me because I had lost my Nana and my dog.
Talking to my neighbor, she inspired us to start going back to church. After a few weeks we started going back to church. After receiving the Eucharist each week, I felt a warm and comforting peace in my heart. Thinking about the situation I was in, I realize God did not do that to hurt me. He only cares and loves me.
Mary
9th grade
Villa Joseph Marie High

I read the sixth chapter of John. What I found there was to change my whole life. "I am the bread of Life."
Bread was the first food I remember eating. It was an ever-present staple in our house. My mother had to find some way to try to fill the culinary abysses that were her children. Bread was the way. One of the constant refrains in our house growing up was "eat with bread!" If it were a piece of cheese, "eat with bread;" a bowl of cereal, "eat with bread;" if it was a peanut butter sandwich, "eat with bread."
So when I read this passage, I was stunned. In the Jewish family, food equals love in the most intimate way. Eating was the ritualization of love. The way you knew that your mother loved you was the fact that she fed you. All the hugs and kisses did not mean much if you were staving to death. "Eat with bread," "eat bread," I am bread," "I am the bread of life." Jesus was a Jewish mother!
It became obvious that this Jesus was about love, deep love, caring love, tender love. A mother's love is always present in the food she serves, the bread she bakes. It was not a great leap of faith to believe that Jesus could be bread for us, that He was the bread of life, that He was "present" in the form of bread. The best teacher for sacramental theology is to have a Jewish mother (I suspect any good mother will do).
This passage (John 6:1(c)ff) left me dazed for several days. Although I did not understand all the theological implications of the Eucharist, I became very attracted to it. I found myself before the Blessed Sacrament in quiet prayer, just happy to be there.
Richard
St. Malachy, Philadelphia

My story is typical of many women in the Catholic Church. I was fortunate to be educated in the Catholic school system. For the first 18 years of my life I practiced my faith with the rest of my family. We all received the sacraments, went to confession and Mass weekly and participated in sodality and May processions as they were offered in my parish. When I graduated from Catholic high school, I got away from my weekly faith observations. At that time it was not important to me.
Again, like many women, I got back into the practices of my faith when my first child made her sacraments. When my second and third child became old enough for sacraments, my husband and I were there, but sometime around 1990, I began to question my faith. I did not feel like I was getting anything out of Sunday Mass. Looking back I was guilty of not putting anything into it, not going out of my way to try and grow my faith. I was pretty much leaving it up to the Holy Spirit to come to me but I was not willing to meet Him half-way.
I became friends with a neighbor who belonged to an active Baptist church in our neighborhood. She invited me to their Bible Study on Wednesday nights. Their pastor was alive with the fire of the Holy Spirit, and I enjoyed going to these Wednesday-night Bible studies. Before long, I stopped going to my church on Sundays, and began attending their Sunday service, along with the 3 children. The children were too young to object and just came along with me.
One day my older sister asked me about changing churches, and how I felt. We talked about the Catholic Church and my "new" Baptist church. I was happy going there and was made welcome by their congregation but each week, as I drove home, I knew there was "something" missing. I just could not put my finger on what it was. When my sister asked me if I missed not receiving Holy Communion, it hit me. THAT was exactly what I missed about the church.
After praying about it, I returned to my old Catholic Church, still there, waiting patiently for my return, welcoming me back. Today I consider myself a strong Catholic. The Holy Spirit is alive and well in my soul. I attend Mass daily, am a graduate of the Church Ministry Program (in the 90s) from St. Charles Seminary, and am active in the church that I belong to.
One of my happiest moments is taking Holy Communion to my dear friend, Mary, who cannot get out to Mass these days. I thank God daily for my renewed faith and hope it will sustain me for the rest of my days, until I enter heaven.
Patricia
St. George, Glenolden