First Holy Communion

This I will always remember, I wore Robert Carlson’s older sister’s dress for my First Holy Communion. Second grade at Catholic school meant First Holy Communion. This was the second of the seven sacraments, the first having been Baptism, and I was a baby and too young to remember that religious experience.

We prepared for this sacrament, now commonly called Eucharist for months. We learned in religion class, that this is the body of Christ. This is what was taught then, and even now: Catholics believe the Eucharist, or Communion, is both a sacrifice and a meal. We believe in the real presence of Jesus, who died for our sins. As we receive Christ's Body and Blood, we also are nourished spiritually and brought closer to God. (AmericanCatholic.org.)

At age 7 I was taught that this little white wafer, about the size of those little Necco wafers, but not as tasty, was eating Jesus’ body. I couldn’t wrap my head around it then, and I still can’t. I can understand communion, that we are breaking bread together, that we are sharing food, that this creates community, but not that somehow in this wafer, is Christ.

As I write this, I am a bit worried, I was taught not to question God or faith, and now, I hesitate, as I don’t want to diminish anyone else’s faith, but I also don’t want to diminish my intellect. We call it faith, and let it go at that, and faith is something that for some is taboo to investigate, unless you come up with something affirming about it, or become a believer, discounting what you set out to discount, like C.S. Lewis.

I haven’t anything affirming, and I don’t believe that Eucharist wafers are Jesus. It’s just what I think, and what I think I thought when I was 7, but was too afraid of grown-ups to say about their Jesus in a wafer. I know that for my sister, who is a practicing Catholic, this is spiritual, it affirms her faith, and it gives her strength. I wish it were so easy for me.

So, I learned what we were supposed to learn in school, things like we couldn’t eat an hour before taking the wafer. Outside of school, my friends and I imagined the beautiful white dresses we would wear. My friend Bonnie’s parents had bought her a dress of dark blue velvet and cascading white ruffles, Mary’s mom bought her a beautiful, but simple white frock.

My mom hadn’t bought me a dress yet, but I was hopeful. Then one day, Sr. Margaret Marie mentioned that someone had a dress that someone could borrow, and she told us all to tell our moms to call the office. I passed on the message. My mom called, and next thing you know, I am trying on a borrowed communion dress.

Not only borrowed, but borrowed from Robert Carlson’s sister, Robert Carlson being the meanest boy in my class. I hated him, and I hated the dress. It was outdated, old fashioned and a bit too big. My mom was thrilled, she thought the dress was perfect, and so that was that. After that I only dreaded my First Holy Communion. Not only did I not believe, I was wearing a borrowed dress. Borrowed dress, borrowed belief.