Embracing Holy Communion with Holiness

Divine Appeal Reflection - 258

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 258:  "You must always come with a sincere penitent heart to receive My Body and Blood with reverence because I am all holiness from whom you can hide nothing."

To approach the altar of the Lord is not a declaration of one’s spiritual achievement or a public affirmation of being “worthy”—it is a trembling ascent into the mystery of divine mercy, where our Adorable Jesus, all-holy and all-powerful, humbles Himself to be received into frail human hearts (cf. CCC 1385; CCC 1415; St. John Chrysostom, Homilies on Matthew 82). The Eucharist is not a stage where holiness is displayed for others to admire; it is the furnace where holiness begins to be forged through grace (cf. Heb 12:28–29; CCC 1392). When we come forward to receive, we do not declare ourselves righteous—we confess ourselves in need of sanctification. This most sacred of all sacraments is not a reward for perfection, but a lifeline for the soul that longs to be healed, purified, and divinized (cf. CCC 1394; St. Ambrose, De Sacramentis 5). But this healing is not automatic, nor should it be presumed upon.

The Communion line, meant to be a reverent procession of souls humbled by awe and gratitude, often appears more as a habitual motion—one that risks losing sight of the sacred encounter it leads to. Too frequently, communicants approach the altar with little visible recollection, a lack of exterior reverence, and, at times, without the interior disposition required by grace (cf. CCC 1415; St. Catherine of Siena, The Dialogue, ch. 112). This is not a mere matter of etiquette, but of eternal consequence. The Church, as a vigilant and loving mother, solemnly reminds her children that reception of the Eucharist demands a heart prepared and purified—especially through the Sacrament of Penance when one is conscious of grave sin (cf. 1 Cor 11:27–29; CCC 1385). To receive the Lord unworthily is to risk profaning the very mystery of love that seeks to save us. True Communion flows not from entitlement but from contrition; it is the banquet of the redeemed, not a rite of routine. Each step toward the altar should echo the publican’s plea, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner,” and each “Amen” should be an act of trembling faith, aware that we are receiving not bread, but the living Christ Himself (cf. Lk 18:13; Jn 6:51; CCC 1374). This is not a harsh restriction; it is an act of divine protection. It preserves the soul from greater harm and the sacrament from desecration. Holy Communion is not meant for spectators, nor is it a rite of inclusion—it is a sacred meeting between the Savior and the sinner who desires to be made new. When we take the time to prepare—through a sincere examination of conscience, the act of forgiving our enemies, and the Sacrament of Penance when needed—we do not come to show we are saints; we come to be sanctified. We kneel not to perform, but to profess with our entire being that this is no ordinary encounter (cf. Rom 12:1; CCC 1389).

The weight of this mystery demands that our bodies, minds, and souls participate in harmony. Sadly, a growing number of the faithful, and even some clergy, have begun to normalize the neglect of physical reverence. The refusal to kneel, without just cause, is often defended with shallow arguments—“God looks at the heart,” or “kneeling is a cultural relic.” But these claims fail to grasp the sacramental nature of worship, where the body becomes the outward language of the soul (cf. CCC 2703; Phil 2:10). From the burning bush to the throne of Heaven, sacred history is marked by bodies bowing before majesty. Moses shed his sandals as creation trembled before its Creator (cf. Ex 3:5); Isaiah collapsed beneath the weight of unearthly holiness (cf. Is 6:5); wise men from the East fell to their knees before the Infant Word made flesh (cf. Mt 2:11); and the beloved disciple, beholding the risen Christ in glory, dropped as though slain by the vision of Eternal Power (cf. Rev 1:17). In every age, true reverence finds its language in the posture of the body, which becomes the soul’s visible act of worship. Are we, then, so advanced that we need no longer kneel before the Eucharistic Christ? Let us not be deceived. What we do with our bodies shapes what we believe in our hearts. When reverence is lost, belief fades (cf. CCC 1387; St. Benedict, Rule, ch. 19). To remove visible expressions of awe is to starve the soul of its language before the Divine.

The Mass is not a gathering of the accomplished, but a school of grace. It is where the wounded come to be healed, the sinner to be re-created, and the unworthy to be made beloved through the Blood of the Lamb (cf. Rev 7:14; CCC 1432). Thus, the interior and exterior preparation for Holy Communion is not optional—it is essential. We must approach with hearts purified by mercy, made peaceful through forgiveness, recollected through prayer, and reverent in body and spirit (cf. CCC 1386; Ps 24:3–4). And after Communion, the encounter must not be allowed to dissolve into ordinary distraction. Christ, now dwelling within us, longs to speak, to love, to transform. Those sacred minutes of thanksgiving are the most intimate of all, a hidden tabernacle in which the soul is alone with its God (cf. CCC 1378; St. Teresa of Avila, Way of Perfection, ch. 34). It is not the time for noise or routine departure—it is the time for adoration, for awe, for gratitude. The Eucharist is not a moment to consume—it is a Presence to be consumed by. To receive Holy Communion is to offer oneself as an altar, a living sacrifice, a soul whispering, “Take me, purify me, make me Yours” (cf. Rom 12:1; CCC 1396).

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, grant us the grace to never approach Your Sacred Body out of routine or pride. Help us to receive You as beggars in need of healing, as sinners thirsting for Your fire. Let our Communion be a silent cry for transformation, that we may become all Yours, now and forever. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.