The Value of
Spiritual Communion

"O King of Glory, through You hid Your beauty, yet the eyes of my soul rends the veil, I see the angelic choirs giving You honor without cease." Diary, 80

by Vinny Flynn

When I first heard about spiritual communion, it didn't mean much to me. I viewed it as a kind of "consolation prize." If, for one reason or another, you couldn't get to Mass or couldn't receive the Eucharist, you could at least unite yourself to Christ through prayer.

There was certainly some value to this but, for me, the words "at least" implied that this was not real communion.

Looking back, I think my main problem was that I had such a limited understanding of what real communion is. But as I've learned more about the Eucharist and about the Sacrifice of the Mass, I've realized that spiritual communion can become a daily practice that, in a very real way, extends the fruits of sacramental communion.

The most important thing I've come to understand is that the Eucharist is about life, eternal life - not just later, but now. The words of Christ, Himself, as recorded in the Gospel of John, make this unmistakably clear:

I am the bread of life...the living bread that came down from heaven, whoever eats this bread will live forever; the bread that I will give is my flesh the life of the world !Jn 6:48,51). ... Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life (Jn 6.54)

I used to think that "eternal life" simply meant "living forever." But it doesn't. Eternal life means living in a whole different way, a whole different dimension. It's an entering into a new life of grace, a sharing in the life of God.

The Eucharist is not a dead thing, not something to be consumed thoughtlessly, and not just a symbol. It is the living God, who loves us so much that He offers Himself to us as food in order that we may he com- pletely transformed and empowered here and now, to begin living this new kind of life.

The Mass, as the Liturgy of the Eucharist, is also about eternal life, but we tend to get so wrapped up in our own little worlds of time and. space that it's hard for us to realize it. We go to a particular church to attend a particular celebration of the Mass, and we fail to recognize the eternal, universal dimension of what's happening. It's as if there's a veil over our eyes that keeps us from seeing the awesome mystery that we are being invited to enter.

In reality, there is only one liturgy and it is going on all the time in heaven. Christ, our high priest, is eternally accomplishing the work of salvation, interceding for us at the right hand of the Father, surrounded by Mary and by all the saints and angels.

We sit there in our parish? church and think we're joining our priest in offering a particular Mass while, in reality, Christ is inviting us to drop the veil and allow Him to lift us up, out of time and into eternity to share in the one liturgy of heaven.

We're not supposed to be merely attending Mass. We're supposed to be celebrating Mass with all of heaven and earth. When we hear the priest say, "Now let us join the angels in singing their endless song of praise," that's what's actually hap- pening. When we start to sing "Holy Holy," we're not singing our own song. We're joining the angels in the song that they're always singing.

In the same way, when Christ becomes present in the Eucharist, He doesn't leave heaven to do it, and He's not alone. What an absurd scene that brings to mind. Imagine Christ putting on His best white robe and saying: "Good-bye Father, good- bye Mary, good-bye Holy Spirit, good-bye saints and angels. I'm going down to earth now to be present in the Eucharist."

Christ is Present in "the Eucharist" as He is in heaven without leaving heaven" (Pope Paul VI, Mysterium Fidei), united with His Father and the Holy Spirit, and with the angels and saints, who, in eternal beatitude. "see Him as He is" (1Jn 3:2). Thus, when we receive the Eucharist, we "enter into communion with the Holy Trinity, and all of heaven is present (Decree on Ecumenism).

If there's only one phrase you remember from this article, I hope it's that one. We are not supposed to merely receive communion. We are supposed to enter into communion, uniting ourselves with God in the fullest way possible, so that as we physically consume Him we are also spiritually joined to Him and share in the divine life of the Trinity.

In addition to the times when we can actually receive the sacrament of the Eucharist in this way, we can also receive spiritually through our desire for the sacrament, uniting our hearts to the Heart of Jesus in the Eucharist.

We have two wonderful models for this: St. Maximilian Kolbe and Blessed Faustina Kowalska, whose lives were centered on the Eucharist and nourished daily by spiritual communion.

"We must, so to speak, divinize ourselves," wrote Kolbe, "and for this we have the most Blessed Sacrament. We receive not only grace, but the giver of grace Himself, who accomplishes this divinization in the measure He finds our souls disposed."

To keep his soul disposed, Kolbe made frequent visits to the Blessed Sacrament, often more than ten times each day, and he resolved to enter into spiritual communion at least every 15 minutes. "At times," he explained, "spiritual communion brings the same graces as sacramental."

Blessed Faustina was so devoted to the Eucharist that almost every page of her spiritual diary contains some reference to it. "Eternal life," she wrote, "must begin already here on earth through Holy Communion. Each Holy Communion makes you more capable of communing with God throughout eternity" (Diary, 1811).

Through her devotion to the merciful Heart of Jesus in the Eucharist, Blessed Faustina was able to enter into an unbroken relationship with God -- a personal, moment-to-moment, heart-to-heart conversation with Jesus in the unity of the Trinity.

Her diary entry for September 29, 1937, just barely a year before her death, is a powerful witness of the value of spiritual communion in extending the effects of sacramental communion:

I have come to know that Holy Communion remains in me until the next Holy Communion. A vivid and clearly felt presence of God continues in my soul. ... My heart is a living tabernacle in which the living Host is reserved. I have never sought God in some far-off place, but within myself. It is in the depths of my own being that I commune with my God (1302).

We, too, are called to enter into this unbroken relationship with God. The purpose of the Eucharist is to transform us, to divinize us so that we become like Christ and are continually united with Him. With each sacramental reception of communion, we can become more and more transformed by grace into a real sharing in the way Christ lives. And by frequently entering into spiritual communion, we continue this process until the next time we receive sacramentally.

This union with His children is God's great desire, but He won't Force it on us. He waits for us to ask. Spiritual communion is when we invite God to do what He wants to do: to come into our hearts with all of heaven and lift us beyond the veil into the eternity of His love.

We can do this at any time and in any way -- through words, mental images, or simply what St. Therese called "a surge of the heart." I personally find that what helps me the most is to imagine myself withdrawing into my own heart, even for an instant, and meeting God there. Sometimes there are no words. I must imagine the rays of mercy pouring into my heart from the Heart of Jesus in the Eucharist or on the cross.

Sometimes I try to see the rays reversing themselves, drawing me up through the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus into heaven. Or I imagine Mary visiting me as she did Elizabeth, bringing Her Son into my heart.

If words come to mind, I try to express them simply and naturally: Lord Jesus, come into my Heart. ... Heal me Jesus. . . . Jesus, Mercy. . . . Jesus, make my heart like Yours. ... Jesus, I trust in You.... Mary, unite my heart to yours and to the Heart of Jesus.

What often comes to me is an image of the angel at Fatima when He brought the Eucharist to the three children and showed them how to adore God. I try to see the chalice and the Host suspended in the air and, with the angel I throw myself prostrate on the ground and pray:

O my God I believe, I adore, I hope, and I love you. I ask pardon for all those who do not believe do not adore, do not hope, do not love you.

I encourage you to begin this practice in whatever ways it feels natural for you. At times it may be 15-20 minutes in front of the Eucharist. At other times, it may be a brief instant in the midst of your daily work. Frequency is much more important than duration, because the more often you practice spiritual communion, the more it becomes a habit, a natural instinct to unite yourself with God.

You'll find that every moment can be an occasion for spiritual communion. Distractions, temptations, anxieties, delays, the beginning or end of a task -- all can become reminders of the need to renew your relationship with God, withdrawing for a moment to meet with Him in the depths of your heart.