Love Letters to the Latin Mass 8: The Communion Rail

O gracious Lord Jesus Christ, I, a sinner, presuming not on my own merits, but trusting to Thy mercy and goodness, fear and tremble in drawing near to the Table on which is spread Thy Banquet of delights.  (Prayer of St. Ambrose)

I feel the cool marble underneath the embroidered linen cloth that has been placed on the top of our beautiful banquet table. On either side of me, fellow diners are eagerly awaiting our banquet. We have been looking forward to this all week, and have been preparing for this moment. From our vantage point at the table, we are able to see where the banquet was prepared for us. The preparation table is even more beautiful than our banquet table, and the man who prepared our food is personally serving it to each of us separately.

This meal is too precious to be left to a helper. Not only that, he serves the feast directly to our mouth, on our tongue, with his own hands. He does not want us to miss one crumb of this incomparable food. I can’t wait!

Setting Apart the Sacred

I feel so blessed to receive Holy Communion at a communion rail. Automatically, I know when walking into the church that the area beyond the railing is so special that it is partitioned off from the public.

The traditional Communion rail has functional and sacramental purposes.  It distinguishes the sanctuary from the nave and the priest from the people.  The architectural logic of the Communion rail symbolizes the sacred (“set apart”) and ministerial priesthood with the priest offering Mass as a mediator in Christ the Head. The priest, as male, images Jesus as the Divine Bridegroom in union with His beloved Church.  And he feeds the Bride of Christ at the Communion rail, from the “table of the Lord.” Bride and Bridegroom are distinct but never divorced. (Fr. Jerry J. Pikorsky, “The Communion Rail and Complementarity,” para. 1)

The sanctuary is also where He resides when not being shared with us, His family. The communion rail requires me to pause and prayerfully ponder Him after slowly approaching. It allows me to study the beauty of the altar and its surroundings. It indicates to me that this is a very special and unique meal that I am receiving, one worthy of prolonged digestion, and not a carryout window to just “grab and go.”

The Rail vs. the Rush

When there isn’t a Communion rail, the people approach the Communion station and, after receiving Communion, hurriedly depart.  A panoramic devotional view of a beautiful sanctuary, like the splendor of decorations adorning a wedding feast, is thus unlikely.  The reception of Communion becomes individualistic, not communal.  The priest stands still distributing the Hosts; the people hustle to and fro. (Ibid., para. 9)

I am kneeling—a position of humility and reverence—when I receive His great gift, and I find that this makes the entire Mass more meaningful to me. “The more reverently we approach his presence in the Sacrament, the more fully we participate through the exterior act of kneeling before the extension of the altar and the interior act of offering ourselves to him, the greater the graces we receive will be.”

When the priest put the food of angels upon my tongue, he prays quietly (in Latin): The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ preserve thy soul unto life everlasting. Amen. What other food can provide this blessing? I say nothing, but quietly leave the table after this heavenly feast and return to my pew. There, I pray the prayers written by St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine, St. Bonaventure, and many others who also kneeled at many a communion rail throughout their lives. Once again, we meet together at the Eucharist, side by side at His table.