At every Mass, millions of Catholics receive the Eucharist. But how often do we pause to ask — with full seriousness — what actually happens in the moment the Host enters us? The Church teaches that the Body, Blood, Soul, Spirit, and Divinity of Christ are truly received. Yet this teaching, for all its weight, is rarely followed by the question that most needs answering: what does this mean for the soul, and what does the soul need to do in order to receive it fully? The pages that follow are an attempt to answer that question.

Abstract

The present article examines the intrinsic relationship between the Holy Mass, Communion, and the Prayer of the Heart (i.e. Contemplative Prayer), proposing that these three realities constitute a single unified movement of the Christian life rather than three distinct spiritual exercises. Drawing upon Sacred Scripture, the Magisterium of the Catholic Church, and the teaching of the great spiritual masters — above all Saint Teresa of Avila — the article develops a sevenfold parallel between the physiology of ordinary nutrition and the spiritual process of Eucharistic manducation. It argues that Communion, understood as a mutual gift between Christ and the soul, initiates a process of assimilation that requires conscious participation at every stage, and that the Prayer of the Heart is not an activity alongside Communion but its necessary prolongation in time and in the depths of the person. The article further identifies the gift of oneself as the constitutive act underlying the Mass, Communion, and the Prayer of the Heart alike, and proposes that the failure to give adequate space and time to the post-Communion encounter represents one of the most significant — and most overlooked — pastoral lacunae in the contemporary life of the Church.

Introduction

The Second Vatican Council declared the Eucharist to be ‘the source and summit of the Christian life’ (Lumen Gentium, 11). This affirmation has become, in the decades since the Council, one of the most frequently cited formulas of Catholic theology. Yet it raises a question that is rarely asked with sufficient seriousness: if the Eucharist is truly the source and summit, what does this mean in practice for the interior life of the faithful? What precisely takes place in the moment of Communion, and what is required of the believer in order to receive its full transforming power?

The history of Eucharistic theology bears witness to a remarkable imbalance. The great controversies of the Reformation and post-Reformation periods directed the Church’s theological attention towards the question of the mode of Christ’s presence in the Eucharist — Transubstantiation, the Real Presence, the sacrificial character of the Mass. These are questions of the first importance, and the Church’s doctrinal definitions on these points constitute an irreplaceable patrimony. Yet in the energy devoted to these controversies, a different and in some ways more fundamental question was left in the shadows: not what is present in the Eucharist, but what happens in the encounter between the faithful soul and the Christ who gives Himself in Communion. Not the metaphysics of the Real Presence, but the spiritual dynamics of the reception.

The present article seeks to address this question directly. It does not propose a new theology of the Eucharist, but rather an exploration of what the Church’s existing teaching implies for the concrete spiritual life of the believer. Its central thesis is threefold. First, that Communion is not a momentary event but a process — one that begins with the decision to attend Mass and extends through the act of thanksgiving and into the whole of daily life. Second, that this process is structurally analogous to the physiology of ordinary nutrition, and that this analogy — far from being a mere pedagogical device — illuminates the real nature of what Christ called ‘eating His flesh’ and ‘drinking His blood.’ Third, that the Prayer of the Heart is not an optional supplement to Eucharistic life, but its organic prolongation: the space and time given to Communion so that it may accomplish its full transforming work in the depths of the person.

The article draws upon three principal sources: the teaching of Sacred Scripture, above all the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John; the Magisterium of the Catholic Church, principally as expressed in the Catechism of the Catholic Church; and the spiritual tradition, above all the teaching of Saint Teresa of Avila in her Way of Perfection. These three sources are not treated as independent authorities to be set alongside one another, but as voices within a single living tradition, each illuminating the others.

The reader is invited to approach these pages not as a theological treatise to be analysed from the outside, but as a meditation to be entered from within — returning to them more than once, allowing the inner unity of the argument to disclose itself progressively, as Communion itself discloses its depths to the soul that gives it time and space.

It is worth situating this article explicitly within a broader theological conversation that has been ongoing since the Second Vatican Council. Sacrosanctum Concilium (§14) called for the ‘full, conscious, and active participation’ of the faithful in the liturgy — participatio actuosa — as the primary aim of the liturgical renewal. Pope Benedict XVI developed this teaching with remarkable depth in Sacramentum Caritatis, introducing two complementary notions that together with participatio actuosa form an organic triad. The first is the ars celebrandi — the art of celebrating — which he describes as the primary condition for authentic participation: ‘the ars celebrandi is the best way to ensure their actuosa participatio’ (SC, 38). The second is the fully fruitful participation of the faithful — participatio fructuosa — the interior transformation actually wrought in the soul by a worthy and conscious reception. In one decisive phrase, Pope Benedict holds all three together, insisting on ‘the need to avoid any antithesis between the ars celebrandi, the art of proper celebration, and the full, active and fruitful participation of all the faithful’ (SC, 38). He further insists that ‘the active participation called for by the Council must be understood in more substantial terms, on the basis of a greater awareness of the mystery being celebrated and its relationship to daily life’ (SC, 52). Pope Francis, in Desiderio Desideravi (2022), deepens this interior dimension still further. He writes that the priest celebrating the Eucharist ‘should be overpowered by this desire for communion that the Lord has toward each person — as if placed in the middle between Jesus’ burning heart of love and the heart of each of the faithful’: ‘To preside at Eucharist is to be plunged into the furnace of God’s love.’ (DD, 57) This article shows how. For it is precisely this furnace — Christ’s desire to give Himself, and the soul’s response of self-giving — that the seven stages of Eucharistic manducation and the Prayer of the Heart seek to describe and sustain. The participation that the Council called for is, at its deepest level, a participation in the very desire of Christ to give Himself to us. The seven stages of Eucharistic manducation, and in particular the Prayer of the Heart as the prolongation of Communion, are precisely the interior content of what participatio fructuosa truly means.

Prayer of the Heart and the Eucharistic Table

“Ah! I cannot receive Holy Communion as often as I desire, but, Lord, are You not all-powerful? Remain in me as in a tabernacle and never separate Yourself from Your little victim.” (St. Therese of the Child Jesus, Act of Oblation)

This article seeks to help us enter into the deeper meaning of the Mass and above all of its second part, the Eucharistic ‘table.’[1] Every aspect of this second part converges towards the mystical moment of Communion, in which we receive Christ and immerse ourselves in Him. We shall seek to show how the entire movement — both of the Mass (above all in its second part) and of Communion, but also of the Prayer of the Heart — tends towards a gift of ourselves to God. These pages also aim to demonstrate in an organic way the precise role of the Prayer of the Heart: for it is born from Communion. Thus, by contemplating Communion, we shall be better able to define the elements that constitute the Prayer of the Heart (the gift of ourselves, etc.), and we shall also be able to return to Communion in a renewed manner.

The fundamental moment in the course of the Mass (the Synaxis[2]) is that in which the faithful person presents himself to the priest in order to receive Communion.[3] This moment, which we call ‘Communion,’ is the moment in which we receive Christ — His Body, His Blood, and His whole being.

The great problem with which we must concern ourselves is: ‘What happens at that precise moment?’ In other words, we ask: ‘Why did God wish to institute it?’ We note that the entire second part of the Mass is dedicated to this moment, which concludes with Communion. Indeed, the Mass ends after Communion has been received. It is in the moment of Communion that the fullness of contact with God is normally experienced.

The form chosen by God is a form of manducation — that is, the process of eating — which the whole world can understand. But within this basic simplicity, this manducation contains a great depth. In his Gospel, Saint John, in chapter 6, was at pains to indicate clearly that it is necessary to eat the Flesh of Christ and to drink His Blood.

Attention has often been concentrated on the ‘conditions’ required in order to receive Communion,[4] at the expense of the very content of Communion itself. It has been taken for granted that this content was self-evident. Attention has also been fixed upon the object received (see the post-Reformation discussions on Transubstantiation), but no one has ever dwelt upon the moment of Communion itself — upon what is brought about in that moment, upon the content of this communication that takes place between God and us. In the past, the faithful were asked to recite certain prayers after Communion. More often now, a hymn is sung during Communion.[5]

When we eat, we know in a scientific manner how the physiological process of nutrition unfolds. We can follow the passage of the nourishment from the mouth through to its transformation into structural elements and energy useful for the work of the body.[6] In the case of Communion, however, ‘this knowledge’ is left to the discretion of the faithful — yet this is the greatest question one can possibly ask.[7] Something of the same kind occurs in the case of the Resurrection. The whole world finds it enormously difficult to speak of it in an objective manner, whereas this is the very heart of our Christian life. Saint Paul said: ‘If Christ has not been raised, then my faith is in vain.’ In the same way, if there is no Communion — which is the presence of the Risen One in our midst, who desires to give Himself to us — the Christian life is critically weakened.

Communion, as the Table (mensa, in the sense of a banquet, a table) of the Body and Blood of Christ, presents at least two dimensions. On the one hand, it has a dimension in relation to the Table of the Word of God, given that together they constitute the two Tables of the Mass (the one nourishing above all the soul, and the other — respectively — the spirit). On the other hand, Communion also presents a more synthetic dimension, which embraces the whole human being: body, soul, and spirit (without forgetting the other dimensions of our communion with the rest of the Body of Christ, that is, other human beings).

So: in what does the moment of Communion consist? This is what we are about to consider. But we can already say that, in Communion, God nourishes us, enters into contact with us, communicates Himself to our body, our soul, and our intellect, as well as to our heart. We must seek to understand what is meant by ‘to nourish,’ ‘to enter into contact,’ ‘to communicate.’ For a mysterious contact is established between God and the human being — a contact that is direct, personal, intimate, profound, and total.

“The celebration of the Eucharistic sacrifice is wholly directed toward the intimate union of the faithful with Christ through communion.” (CCC 1382)

“The principal fruit of receiving the Eucharist in Holy Communion is an intimate union with Christ Jesus. Indeed, the Lord said: ‘He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.’ (John 6:56) Life in Christ has its foundation in the Eucharistic banquet: ‘As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so he who eats me will live because of me.’ (John 6:57)” (CCC 1391)

What are the conditions of this contact?

Baptism is in reality an immersion in Christ, in the Trinity, which transforms us. Communion is a consequence of Baptism, because it renders it not a static event, but a dynamic one, which is prolonged, develops, and renews us. Within the axis of Baptism, and as a prolongation of it, Communion allows us to immerse ourselves in God and to nourish ourselves on Him.

Is it sufficient to receive Communion? Is the mere instant of Communion enough? Is it necessary to give space and time to this moment, so that it may be fully realised? If it is Christ our God who gives Himself to us, directly, without intermediaries, how is it that we do not become Christ? How is it that we receive only crumbs during Communion, as though God had diminished Himself in the act of giving? Why are our spiritual ‘mouth’ and ‘stomach’ in reality so small that they cannot receive the whole Christ? Is it possible to enlarge our interior ‘mouth’ and ‘stomach’? Certainly yes.

Stages of the Manducation of the Body of Christ

The moment of Communion and what follows

“What material food produces in our bodily life, Holy Communion wonderfully achieves in our spiritual life.” (CCC 1392)

In the Gospel of John, chapter 6, Christ asks us to eat His Body and drink His Blood. For His Body is true food and His Blood true drink. These are strong affirmations, and their necessity for life — he who does not eat will not have Life — must be kept constantly in view in our ‘analysis’ of the process of manducation itself.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him. As the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever feeds on me, he also will live because of me.” (John 6:53-57)

The choice of a direct and almost univocal parallelism between ordinary manducation and the act of receiving Christ in Communion is clear. God has chosen the basic exterior forms of nourishment — bread and wine — in order to allow us to receive them. He did not make use of an abstract or meditative form; He made use of matter (edible matter), thereby honouring His Incarnation, His Resurrection, His Ascension, His sitting ‘at the right hand’ of the Father, as well as the Assumption of His Mother. This choice and its physical parallelism contain a multiplicity of teachings. By reflecting and meditating carefully upon the natural process of manducation and nutrition, we can discover the richness of this Gift that God makes us.

It is therefore a real meal to be received. The Body, Soul, Spirit, and Divinity of Christ are a true meal for our body, our soul, our spirit. The term ‘meal’ must be applied to the Eucharist (the second Table of the Mass) without any scruple. For this comparison is most instructive: it helps us to understand better the stages of Communion, which is a real manducation and interaction with Christ.

Consequently, the comparison becomes a means of discernment: we follow the progression of the nourishment (Christ received) and observe at what point it finds itself along its course. By making this verification, we can thus know whether our Communion has ‘worked’ or not. We can distinguish seven stages in physical manducation, and we propose to do the same for the daily meal of the Body of Christ.

Manducation of BodiesCommunion as the Manducation of the Heart-Soul-Body
a- Choice of food and its purchase.The decision to participate in the Divine Liturgy.
b- Preparation of the meal and its cooking.Remote preparation (fasting and prayer).
c- Setting the table, sitting down to eat. Serving the food.Immediate preparation.
d- Receiving mouthful after mouthful, breaking down and chewing the nourishment.Entry into the Eucharistic Liturgy properly so called.
e- Swallowing and digestion with the intervention of the gastric juices.Communion.
f- Assimilation: the nourishment passes into the blood.The act of thanksgiving.
g- Making use of it: brain, nerves, glands, muscles…The prolongation in daily life of the Grace received.

The seven stages in detail

a) The Decision to Participate in the Divine Liturgy

The person chooses to go to Mass in order to receive Christ, who desires to give Himself to us. What one eats is by no means irrelevant. The Gift of God for us is the Body and Blood of Christ, His whole Being. It is not possible to substitute for it either negligence, or other forms of nourishment — even spiritual ones — nor even the Prayer of the Heart itself (save in cases of necessity). Every activity in its proper time.

By following the path of the Divine Bread through our ‘digestive system,’ we are able to understand how Communion is truly a real bread, a real nourishment for life, which enters into us through a process that requires our total and conscious participation. We can now better understand the words of Christ: ‘Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’ (Matt 4:4) — and is not Christ, the Incarnate Word, precisely this whole Word that we receive during Communion? Do we not ask our Father who is in Heaven for this Bread each day: ‘Give us this day our daily bread’?

b) Remote Preparation (Fasting and Prayer)

We receive the Body of Christ during the Mass of the day, from the hands of Christ, through the mediation of His Body, the Church. It is a choice that we make, and it will lead us to an interior growth that is richer, deeper, and more purposeful.

One’s own preparation for Mass is an important stage, which, alas, has been reduced to the penitential rite. In the past, preparation lasted several days, or at least the day before. The only remaining trace of this preparation is the Eucharistic fast, which has been reduced to its most minimal juridical expression of one hour.[8]

c) Immediate Preparation

In the Eastern liturgies there is an entire preparation of the liturgy. In the Byzantine Liturgy, the bread is prepared before the Divine Liturgy — an important stage which invites the faithful to recollection. The Eucharistic Bread is indeed the whole Christ: body, soul, spirit, Divinity, created words and the Uncreated Word.

The penitential rite is a preparation for entering into the Mass, and also into its second part. The first part of the Mass — the Liturgy of the Word — can likewise be considered as a preparation for the second part.

d) Entry into the Eucharistic Liturgy Per Se

The Offertory allows us to begin already to offer ourselves to God, for the bread and wine that we present are in fact the summary of what we are — ourselves, our daily life and all that it encompasses.[9] The second part of the Mass disposes us powerfully to receive Christ. The priest invites the faithful to lift up their hearts, in order to enter into the movement of the heavenly liturgy:

The Lord be with you. — R: And with your spirit. Lift up your hearts. — R: We lift them up to the Lord. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God. — R: It is right and just.

In this way ‘Heaven opens’ and we unite ourselves with the Angels and the Saints in their constant adoration, veneration, and worship (Holy, Holy, Holy…).[10] This ‘entry’ into the heavenly liturgy opens our whole being — our heart, our interiority — to the Gift that we are about to receive. It is a matter of already placing oneself in the presence of the One whom we love and who desires to give Himself to us.

Immediately after the Consecration, the great prayer opens, for He who prays — Christ — is now present upon the Altar. It is He who prays, and it is by the power of His Divinity that this prayer spreads all its efficacy in infinite concentric waves upon the world. The whole of Creation, past and present, is named; the three dimensions of the Church — militant, suffering, and triumphant — are mystically introduced into the Body and Blood of Christ present upon the Altar.

The conclusion of the Eucharistic Prayer solemnly summarises all its meanings: ‘Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, for ever and ever.’ The whole weight of this solemn ‘conclusion’ resides in the ‘to you’ — which is a self-offering, a movement of our whole being towards the Father; it is the heart of the Prayer and its Source. It is in this way that, invited to offer ourselves to the Father through the Son in the Spirit, we arrive at the moment of the physical Encounter with God — the moment of Communion.

e) Communion

The moment of Communion is the sacred moment par excellence, the mystical exchange between Christ and ourselves,[11] and the fulfilment of the Synaxis.[12]

When the priest presents to us the Body of Christ, we respond: Amen.[13] It is thus that we receive the whole Christ. In order to receive Him in the proper manner, we give ourselves to Him entirely.[14] It is thus that our ‘Amen’ becomes real and truly opens the doors of our heart to Christ. Communion is, in its intimate essence, a mutual gift between Christ and us, and this mutual Gift allows Christ to communicate Himself to us. In fact, the Fire of Christ’s Love is nourished by the gift of ourselves that we make to Him.

f) The Act of Thanksgiving

After Communion we sing in the Byzantine Liturgy: ‘We have seen the true Light and have received the heavenly Spirit.’ Pope John Paul II writes: ‘Each time the Church celebrates it, the faithful can in a certain way relive the experience of the two disciples of Emmaus: Their eyes were opened, and they recognised him. (Luke 24:31)’[15] It is thus that after Communion we have the first ‘act of thanksgiving,’ to which, as Saint Teresa of Avila recommends, ten to fifteen minutes should be devoted.

It is necessary to allow this Bread to descend within us, to offer ourselves to Him, to allow Him to transform our being at depth, to ‘consume’ us in His turn, to assimilate us (to render us like unto Himself), to restore to us anew the lost Likeness. As water nourishes the deep and invisible roots of a tree, so the Body and Blood of Christ nourish the depths of our being, purify them, and transform them in Christ.

g) The Prolongation in Daily Life of the Grace Received

‘Mental prayer,’ ‘Contemplative prayer,’ the ‘Prayer of the Heart,’ the ‘Jesus Prayer,’ ‘adoration,’ the ‘act of oblation,’ ‘Ejaculatory prayers (or aspirations)’ — these are, as it were, necessary acts of deeper interiorisation of the last Communion received. They are like the space and time that are indispensable supports for the incarnation of the Communion received into our daily life. These activities are absolutely inseparable from the last Communion received.

We are invited to live throughout the day this deepening — remaining in the presence of Christ, repeating these acts of entry into Him, present in our heart. A new manner of acting in God is born. Our intellect and our soul change their manner of operating.

“As bodily nourishment restores lost strength, so the Eucharist strengthens our charity, which tends to weaken in daily life. By giving himself to us, Christ revives our love and enables us to break our disordered attachments to creatures and to be rooted more firmly in him.” (CCC 1394)

“Lord, are You not all-powerful? Remain in me as in a tabernacle and never separate Yourself from Your little victim.” (St. Therese of the Child Jesus, Act of Oblation)

Development

I. The Seven Stages: Active Participation at Every Step

We do not live the Eucharist and the Prayer of the Heart in a mechanical, unconscious manner, ‘in the vapours’ of a vague contemplation. In order to nourish our being (body, soul, and spirit), we are invited to live fully these seven stages. Certainly, stages 6 and 7 may appear passive, but in reality they allow the Holy Spirit to intervene — He is the author of the true Incarnation of Christ in us. We must not confuse negative passivity with the participative ‘passivity’ of these stages, for in reality a part of this process depends upon us. The passage of the Body from one stage to the next, at every stage, depends upon us. Unlike physical manducation — in which, from the moment we have swallowed the food, we no longer concern ourselves with what happens — spiritual manducation requires at every stage that we continue to be an active part in the assimilation. It is in this way that God makes us His friends, who know what they must do and each day choose to do it.

The Bread, having entered into us, follows a well-defined and clearly marked path, and accomplishes its daily journey; it is thus that it produces fruit — the transformation of our being. In order to answer the question of whether the Prayer of the Heart is ‘working’ or not, it is sufficient to follow the path of the interaction between the Bread and ourselves and to see whether something is lacking, whether we have stopped at a particular stage.

By assimilating it, we integrate the Bread into our being. It becomes part of our living substance, just as the nourishment we eat becomes part of our body. Saint Paul will say: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.’ Our manner of thinking, of feeling things, of seeing, of acting, changes. It becomes easier for us to act ‘in Christ,’ because our roots are nourished at depth by Him and transformed by His effective action.

The link and continuity between the seven stages — above all the stages that follow Communion (6 and 7) — must be long and carefully meditated upon. For if we bring the process of Communion to a halt after the first five stages — after having received Communion — we lose enormously. If we interrupt the process of manducation at the fifth stage (having received Communion without doing anything further, or very little), we risk losing the enormous transforming efficacy of the Body of Christ, and we shall never understand why Christ said: ‘He who eats my Body will have Life’ and ‘My Body is true nourishment.’ The effect of this is spiritual malnutrition — a heart that remains parched, weak, and stunted.

Why eat, and eat, and eat again, if our stomach does not digest, or if our intestine does not assimilate the nourishment? To receive it within us is one thing; to give it time and space in our heart is another. In this way we bring the Body to a halt in its course; it remains alone in our heart, imprisoned, without the space and time necessary to express Itself. What poverty, what a tragedy!

II. Mary: the Good Soil of Communion

The Prayer of the Heart finds its abundant source of Life in the moment of Communion. A moment that is apparently brief, certainly, but one that is called to extend itself — in depth, in breadth, and in height — within us. It is a point, the smallest possible, like the grain of mustard seed; yet the more we provide it with a spatio-temporal ‘support,’ the more this little grain is transformed into a great tree: Christ in us.

Like Mary, and with her and through her — who is the Good Soil — we are called to give time to this seed, so that it may radiate throughout our whole being and, through us, to the ends of the earth. Mary has the Divine Capacity to receive, to conceive, to gather within herself, to preserve, to cause to grow — without any loss — the Divine Seed. It is she who provides the Soil (space and time) within us to this Seed that we receive. Thus the Divinity of Christ and His spirit (His Heart) nourish our spirit; His soul (His thought, His will) nourishes and vivifies our soul; His Body nourishes and strengthens our body.

It is for this reason that St. Therese of the Child Jesus, at each Communion, asked Mary to enter into her heart in order to receive Christ, who will then think He is resting in Mary. And it is for this reason that the great masters of the French School never approach mental prayer without Mary.

‘O beloved Mother, despite my littleness, /Like you I possess The All-Powerful within me. / But I don’t tremble in seeing my weakness: / The treasures of a mother belong to her child, / And I am your child, O my dearest Mother. / Aren’t your virtues and your love mine too? / So when the white Host comes into my heart, / Jesus, your Sweet Lamb, thinks he is resting in you!…’ (St. Therese, ‘Why I love You O Mary!’ PN 54:5)

The parallelism with ordinary manducation in seven stages is not a mere image, but is intended to show how the Body of Christ that we receive is physically real, and how it itself needs to be chosen, prepared, received, digested, assimilated, and lived. In this sense, the Body of Christ must accomplish within us a ‘journey,’ a course; and if this course is not accomplished, we lose a very great part of the power and transforming efficacy contained within it. As we have seen, in these seven stages of manducation the Prayer of the Heart is inseparable from Communion. It is like its prolongation in time and in space, giving it the possibility of bringing to realisation the full force and transforming efficacy of which it is capable.

The Very Moment of Communion

The theological and analogical analysis set out above has sought to describe the structure of Eucharistic manducation from the outside — its stages, its conditions, its fruits. We must now attempt something more difficult: to enter the moment of Communion from within, to contemplate what actually takes place when Christ and the soul meet in this most sacred exchange. The language here necessarily becomes more contemplative, for we are approaching a mystery that analysis alone cannot exhaust.

What, then, is Communion? What does it mean to go forward and receive the Body of Christ? When we open our mouth and our heart to receive Christ, what actually happens within our being?

This meeting at the depths of oneself is a mutual Gift. It is, in a certain sense, a renewal of Baptism. Christian marriage, as defined by Western theology, is a mutual self-giving on the part of the two spouses. Baptism, too, is the mutual gift of two spouses: Christ and each one of us. We renew the promises of our Baptism at the Easter Vigil each year, but every Communion possesses this same fullness. He whom we receive is the All — wholly God and wholly man — whom we are called to contemplate intensely in this profound encounter, which is an entering into communication, a finding of one another again, an exchange, a kiss, a mutual gift between Christ and us.

The more we are there, wholly present with our whole being, the more we give ourselves completely — the more, indeed, we open the doors of our whole person so that Christ may enter into us and there truly feel at home. This moment of Communion — the moment in which we receive the Body of Christ — is an intimate and sacred moment.

We must understand that what is at stake is our infinite dignity, which makes us free to choose or to refuse Christ our God. He wishes to dine with us, He wishes to give Himself to us, He wishes to ‘consume’ us and assimilate us to Himself, to render us like unto Him — but He never forces the door of our being. He has such respect for our freedom that He never crosses the sacred Threshold of our heart. He remains at the door — which is closed until we renew at every moment the gift of ourselves — and He knocks. The key to this door is on our side, not on His.

Are we aware of the greatness of the Gift of ourselves, and of how decisive this gift is at every step of our spiritual life,[16] and above all for allowing Communion to operate?

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.” (Rev 3:20)

Communion is a mutual Gift between Christ and us. It is the Wedding Banquet, in which the divine Bridegroom gives Himself to the Bride — to us. He gives Himself as nourishment, but He waits, in order to give Himself, for the Bride to give herself also. And during the time called the ‘act of thanksgiving,’ the Bride gives herself again as many times as are necessary in order to remain present to the Bridegroom who is in her heart, so that He may feed upon her.

What a Mystery is this waiting of God, this Desire of His! What a mystery is this God who is a consuming Fire — a Fire that feeds upon ourselves, upon the gift that we freely make of ourselves and continue to renew. Who can comprehend the Desire of God? ‘I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you,’ says Jesus. ‘I thirst’ to give myself to you, but also to ‘consume’ you.

Here is the Name of Jesus (God-saves): the ‘Desire to assimilate’ made flesh. To ‘save’ means to ‘lead back,’ to ‘assimilate,’ to ‘consume.’ Here it is: this is what Communion is. Received, it inaugurates a Supper.

We, however, receive it, remain there for two minutes, and then go away. Now He has come into us in order to take His Meal within us, to nourish Himself upon us. And what do we do? We have already departed; we have closed the Sanctuary of our heart and gone out again to attend to our occupations. Saint Teresa of Avila is quite right when she urges us never to leave Him alone within us. Not merely to ‘keep Him company,’ but to give ourselves to Him — for we are His food. Saint Augustine affirms that it is not we who feed upon Him, but He who feeds upon us, assimilating us to Himself.

Lord, grant us the understanding to comprehend this Gift that You continue to make us, tirelessly; teach us to bring to growth all the fruits contained within it, and do not abandon us at the very moment in which You enter our heart to take Your Meal. What a disaster is our ignorance! We abandon Christ at the very moment in which He comes to visit us.

What are we to do, then? To give ourselves to Him, to offer ourselves to Him, in a peaceful manner, and to repeat this from time to time, in peace, during the minutes that follow Communion.

The Act of Thanksgiving

We call the moment that follows Communion the ‘act of thanksgiving’ — and, if we have the possibility of being in a place where we can remain in silence, this moment is reduced, by tradition (with a small ‘t’!), to a kind of recitation of prayers learnt by heart.

Yet this moment of the Action of Grace (like all the subsequent moments of the Prayer of the Heart) is in fact the moment in which the only word of value on our part is the Gift that we make of ourselves — for the principal Actor (the protagonist) is now present in our heart, and it is therefore wise to allow Him to act.

Reciting prayers learnt by heart, if done with great peace, can help us in the gift of ourselves. But if this is done in too active a manner, we obtain the opposite effect: we go out of ourselves, and — what is worse — we believe we have fulfilled our duty after Communion. If we look more closely, under the microscope, we understand that going out towards the mental and towards the outer surface of a tranquil consciousness prevents us from a direct contact with Christ: it is a pure and simple ‘abortion.’ Yes, the Divine Seed of this Communion, having barely entered, has already also departed — and through whom? Through us. Ignorance, certainly — there is no fault here — but ignorance is never justified.

In truth, the act of thanksgiving is not, as its name might suggest, merely a time for saying thank you. For we have not yet, in fact, ‘eaten.’ The moment in which we swallow the Host is indeed the moment of our mutual self-giving. But this Gift opens the doors to Christ and allows Him to enter into us, and consequently to begin to ‘dine’ with us. The moment called the ‘act of thanksgiving’ is therefore a moment of communion — and not simply a moment for saying ‘thank you.’

The place of contact with Christ is the sanctuary of the heart, whilst the level of active and conscious speech is that of the mind. Therefore, in this moment, ‘saying prayers’ is like passing to a level different from the level of the heart. And for this divine manducation, to move away from the place of encounter in order to say prayers is like preventing Christ from acting within us. Words can be recited in a peaceful manner, with our heart, and can thus help the spirit to remain recollected — but the principal motor of this encounter is the gift of ourselves, which allows Christ to ‘consume’ us, to take His supper. Since this is ‘the sacrament of love’ (CCC 1380), it is entirely fitting to devote to it the time for loving and for being loved.

Adoration and the Prayer of the Heart: One Movement

This intimate bond between reception and adoration finds its most authoritative expression in Pope Benedict XVI’s Apostolic Exhortation Sacramentum Caritatis. Addressing the relationship between the Eucharistic celebration and Eucharistic adoration, he writes:

“In the Eucharist, the Son of God comes to meet us and desires to become one with us; eucharistic adoration is simply the natural consequence of the eucharistic celebration, which is itself the Church’s supreme act of adoration. Receiving the Eucharist means adoring him whom we receive. Only in this way do we become one with him, and are given, as it were, a foretaste of the beauty of the heavenly liturgy. The act of adoration outside Mass prolongs and intensifies all that takes place during the liturgical celebration itself. Indeed, ‘only in adoration can a profound and genuine reception mature. And it is precisely this personal encounter with the Lord that then strengthens the social mission contained in the Eucharist, which seeks to break down not only the walls that separate the Lord and ourselves, but also and especially the walls that separate us from one another.'” (Sacramentum Caritatis, 66)

The same principle is formulated with striking concision in the Apostolic Exhortation Verbum Domini: ‘the adoration of the Eucharist prepares for, accompanies and follows the liturgy of the Eucharist.’ (Verbum Domini, 86)

What the Magisterium calls adoration, the spiritual tradition calls the Prayer of the Heart. The names differ; the reality is the same: the soul that has received Christ does not close the encounter at the moment of reception, but extends it, deepens it, and allows it to bear fruit in the silence and self-offering that follow. Adoration and the Prayer of the Heart are, in this sense, two names for the one movement by which the faithful soul remains with the Lord who has entered, and allows Him to accomplish in her what He has come to give.

Communion and Mental Prayer, Mental Prayer and Communion

Just as it is recommended that we receive Communion — in accordance with the very meaning of the Eucharist (‘it is in keeping with the very meaning of the Eucharist that the faithful, if they have the required dispositions, receive communion each time they participate in the Mass’ [CCC 1380]) — it is equally important to understand that, in coherence with this Communion, it is necessary to allow God to act within us. We must learn to do this. The Prayer of the Heart is the most direct, the most powerful, and the most enduring means of allowing Communion to develop its full and effective action throughout our whole being. In this way we give Christ the time to evangelise our whole being — our deep roots — and not merely the mouth of our being.

Just as there is no sense in going to Mass without receiving Communion, so equally there is no sense in receiving Communion without taking the time that follows it to interiorise it. Mental prayer, too, as a prolongation of Communion, brings about what Communion itself brings about. Communion purifies, transforms us in Christ, and unites us to Him — and this is therefore what the Holy Spirit, with whom the Body and Blood of Christ are imbued, brings about within us during mental prayer.

Communion purifies not only from venial sins, but also from the habit of sin.

“As bodily nourishment restores lost strength, so the Eucharist strengthens our charity, which tends to weaken in daily life; and this charity, thus renewed, cancels venial sins. By giving himself to us, Christ revives our love and enables us to break our disordered attachments to creatures and to be rooted more firmly in him.” (CCC 1394)

“The more we share the life of Christ and progress in his friendship, the more difficult it is to break with him by mortal sin.” (CCC 1395)

Saint Teresa of Avila: The Tradition Speaks

Everything that the preceding analysis has sought to demonstrate through theological argument and analogy finds its living confirmation in the teaching of the great spiritual masters. Saint Teresa of Avila, in her Way of Perfection, speaks of Communion with a directness and an urgency that no theological treatise can match. Her words are not speculation; they are the fruit of experience — and they say, in the language of a mother and a teacher, precisely what the preceding pages have sought to establish.

In explaining the petition of the Our Father — ‘give us this day our daily bread’ — she speaks of Communion thus:

“10 — Oh, how true it is that we do not know what we are asking! How much better has His divine wisdom considered it! For those who truly wish to profit from His presence, He knows how to make Himself known to them as well. Even if this is not through the eyes of the body, the Lord has many other means at His disposal, and He manifests Himself to the soul through great interior feelings or in various other ways. As for you, keep Him good company and do not be willing to lose so beautiful an occasion to speak of your affairs with Him — such as that which is offered to you after Holy Communion.[17] If obedience occupies you with other things, strive to remain united to Him with your soul. But if you carry your thoughts elsewhere and take no account of Him, nor even think that He is present within your soul, how can you expect Him to make Himself known to you? That time is very precious, for the Master is then instructing us: let us make it our business to listen to Him, to kiss His feet in gratitude for such great condescension, and to beseech Him to remain with us always.”

“12 — As soon as you have received the Lord, close the eyes of the body and open those of the soul, fixing them upon the depths of your heart, where the Lord has descended. I tell you, I tell you again, and I would repeat it endlessly, that if you accustom yourselves[18] to this practice each time you approach Communion, the Lord will never hide Himself so completely as not to manifest Himself by one or other of those many means I have mentioned, in proportion to the desire you have for Him: you might desire[19] Him with such ardour as to induce Him at times to reveal Himself altogether. Strive to maintain yourselves in such dispositions as to be able to enjoy Him frequently.”

“13 — But if we take no account of Him and abandon Him as soon as we have received Him in order to run after the miseries of the earth, what do you expect Him to do? Must He compel us to look at Him[20]in order to be able to manifest Himself? Once before it happened that He showed Himself openly to all and declared who He was — and it is well known how He was treated and how few believed Him. It is already a great mercy on His part that He assures us He is present in the Most Holy Sacrament and wishes us to believe it. But as for showing Himself openly, communicating His greatness, and pouring forth His treasures — this is a favour He is not willing to grant save to those whom He sees to be very desirous of Him. These are His friends; but whoever is not His friend, and does not seek to become one even when receiving Him in Communion, need not trouble himself to importune Him, for He will not manifest Himself. Such a person, content to have fulfilled the precept of the Church, can hardly wait to leave the church and drive the Lord from his soul.”

“My daughters, when you hear Holy Mass without approaching Communion,[21] strive to make a spiritual communion[22] and to recollect yourselves within. This practice is most beneficial, and through it you will be enkindled with a great love of God. If on our part we do all we can to prepare ourselves better to receive Him, He who in the bestowal of graces has an infinity of means unknown to us will never fail to grant us some. Here is a great fire. However ardent it may be, if you stand at a distance from it and hide your hands, you will warm yourself but little: yet you would still be warmer than in a place where there was no fire at all. So it is here. If the soul approaches Communion well disposed, and desiring to drive away all coldness remains with God for a while, it will remain warm for many hours afterwards.” (Way of Perfection, Chapters 34 and 35)

These passages show us clearly that it is not enough merely to receive Communion. It is also necessary to desire Christ and His self-manifestation; it is also necessary to dwell with Him and in Him. She rightly says that ‘dwelling within’ with Him is indeed a habit to be acquired. For this purpose it will be necessary to read chapters 28 and 29 of this same book, in which she explains how to acquire this habit and how God always grants us His grace to do so. This depends upon us, and she says so clearly — He will not compel us, He will not manifest Himself. Here is a clear invitation on the part of Saint Teresa — ‘Mother of those given to prayer’ — to acquire the habit of profiting fully from the time that follows Communion. We may apply to this practice the note she adds elsewhere:[23]

Conclusion

The argument developed in these pages may be summarised in a single sentence: Communion is not a moment but a movement — a movement that begins before Mass, reaches its summit in the reception of the Body and Blood of Christ, and is meant to continue, deepen, and bear fruit throughout the whole of daily life. The Prayer of the Heart is the name we give to this continuation.

What has emerged from this exploration is not a new doctrine but a recovered awareness — the awareness that God, in giving Himself to us in Communion, is not completing a transaction but inaugurating a Supper. He comes not to be received and then left; He comes to dine, to remain, to assimilate us to Himself. The key is in our hands. It is we who open or close the door. It is we who give or withhold the time and space that allow Him to penetrate to our roots and there to accomplish what He has desired from eternity: to make us participants in His divine life.

Several practical consequences follow from this. The first concerns preparation. If Communion is a real meal, then preparation matters — not as a juridical condition to be satisfied, but as the natural disposition of one who is expecting an encounter of the highest order. The remote preparation of fasting and prayer, and the immediate preparation of recollection and self-offering, are not pious extras; they are integral stages of the manducation itself.

The second concerns the act of thanksgiving. This moment is misnamed if it is understood simply as a time for saying thank you. It is, more precisely, a time for remaining — for dwelling with the One who has just entered, for giving ourselves to Him as He gives Himself to us, for allowing the Fire to consume what we freely offer. Saint Teresa of Avila’s insistence that we not abandon Christ the moment we have received Him is not spiritual counsel for the advanced; it is the most basic requirement of authentic Eucharistic life.

The third consequence concerns the Prayer of the Heart itself. It is not a spiritual discipline alongside Communion, any more than the digestive system is an activity alongside the meal. It is the interior process by which Communion is assimilated, interiorised, and made fruitful in the depths of the person. To receive Communion without the Prayer of the Heart is, in this sense, analogous to eating without digesting — the nourishment is present, but cannot accomplish its work. And as Pope Benedict XVI has reminded us, what the tradition calls adoration and what the spiritual masters call the Prayer of the Heart are, at their deepest level, the same movement: the soul remaining with the Lord who has entered, allowing Him to do what He has come to do.

Finally, there is the question of Mary. She who is the Good Soil, the perfect receiver of the Divine Seed, remains the irreplaceable model and guide for every soul that wishes to receive Communion well. Her fiat — total, unconditional, and persevering — is the pattern of every authentic Amen pronounced at the moment of reception. To receive with her, through her, and in her is not a Marian piety added to Eucharistic piety; it is the fullest expression of what Eucharistic reception truly is.

After reading these pages through once, it will be good to read them again in order to grasp their inner unity: everything leads to the offering of oneself to God; and the Prayer of the Heart forms an integral part of the Mass, as the space and time that we devote to Communion, so that it may unfold fully in our daily life.

A final word on fruitful participation. The Second Vatican Council’s call for the full, conscious, and active participation of the faithful — participatio actuosa — remains one of the most important orientations of the liturgical renewal. Pope Benedict XVI showed in Sacramentum Caritatis that this call is best understood as a triad of complementary notions: the ars celebrandi creates the liturgical conditions within which participatio actuosa can genuinely take place; and participatio actuosa, in turn, is ordered towards its fullest fruit — participatio fructuosa — the interior transformation of the person actually brought about by a worthy, conscious, and persevering reception. These three are not in tension; they are a single movement, from the priest’s celebration to the faithful’s engagement to the soul’s transformation. Pope Francis, in Desiderio Desideravi, names this interior fire with precision when he writes of the priest: ‘The priest himself should be overpowered by this desire for communion that the Lord has toward each person. It is as if he were placed in the middle between Jesus’ burning heart of love and the heart of each of the faithful, which is the object of the Lord’s love. To preside at Eucharist is to be plunged into the furnace of God’s love.’ (DD, 57) This article is, in a sense, an unfolding of what it means to be plunged into that furnace — not only for the priest, but for every baptised person who receives Communion. The Prayer of the Heart is the interior form of that plunging: the space and time given to the fire to do its work. Far from being an optional devotion reserved for the spiritually advanced, it is the interior fulfilment of participatio fructuosa. Without it, active participation in the Eucharist risks remaining external and incomplete. With it, the Mass becomes what it is meant to be: the source and summit of a life progressively transformed in Christ.

The Mass, Communion, and the Prayer of the Heart: one source, one movement, one gift — the gift of ourselves to the One who has given everything, and who desires, in return, nothing less than everything.

Read also

Bibliography

Sacred Scripture

The Holy Bible, Revised Standard Version, Catholic Edition. Key texts: John 6:35-58 (the Bread of Life discourse); John 14:21-23 (the promise of indwelling); Matthew 4:4 (man does not live by bread alone); Revelation 3:20 (Behold, I stand at the door); Galatians 2:20 (it is no longer I who live); 1 Corinthians 10:16-17 (the one bread, the one body).

Magisterium of the Catholic Church

Catechism of the Catholic Church. Vatican City: Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1992. 2nd ed. 1997. Key articles: §§ 103, 1324, 1328-1329, 1346, 1368, 1380, 1382, 1391-1395.

Second Vatican Council. Sacrosanctum Concilium (Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy), 1963. § 14 (participatio actuosa).

Second Vatican Council. Lumen Gentium (Dogmatic Constitution on the Church), 1964. §§ 11, 42.

Second Vatican Council. Presbyterorum Ordinis (Decree on the Ministry and Life of Priests), 1965. § 5.

Second Vatican Council. Dei Verbum (Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation), 1965. § 21.

Francis. Desiderio Desideravi (Apostolic Letter on the Liturgical Formation of the People of God), 2022. §§ 6, 16, 20, 41, 57.

Benedict XVI. Sacramentum Caritatis (Apostolic Exhortation on the Eucharist), 2007. §§ 38, 52, 66.

Benedict XVI. Verbum Domini (Apostolic Exhortation on the Word of God), 2010. § 86.

John Paul II. Ecclesia de Eucharistia (Encyclical on the Eucharist in its Relationship to the Church), 2003. §§ 6, 19, 55.

John Paul II. Orientale Lumen (Apostolic Letter on the Eastern Churches), 1995. §§ 10, 11.

Spiritual Masters

Teresa of Avila. The Way of Perfection. Translated by E. Allison Peers. New York: Doubleday, 1964. Particularly: Chapters 26-35 (on the Our Father and Communion).

Teresa of Avila. The Interior Castle. Translated by E. Allison Peers. New York: Doubleday, 1961. Particularly: Seventh Mansions.

John of the Cross. The Ascent of Mount Carmel. In The Collected Works of Saint John of the Cross. Translated by Kieran Kavanaugh, OCD and Otilio Rodriguez, OCD. Washington DC: ICS Publications, 1991.

John of the Cross. The Living Flame of Love. In The Collected Works of Saint John of the Cross. Ibid.

Therese of Lisieux. Story of a Soul. Translated by John Clarke, OCD. Washington DC: ICS Publications, 1996.

Therese of Lisieux. Act of Oblation to Merciful Love (Prayer 6). In The Prayers of Saint Therese of Lisieux. Translated by Aletheia Kane, OCD. Washington DC: ICS Publications, 1997.

Augustine of Hippo. Confessions. Translated by Henry Chadwick. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991.

Notes

[1]Here are two quotations that help us understand the use of the term ‘table’ (mensa) here: ‘For this reason the Church has always venerated the divine Scriptures, as she venerates the Body of the Lord. She never ceases to present to the faithful the bread of life, taken from the one table of God’s Word and Christ’s Body [cf. DV 21].’ (CCC 103); ‘The Liturgy of the Eucharist unfolds according to a fundamental structure which has been preserved throughout the centuries down to our own day. It displays two great elements that form a fundamental unity: the gathering, the Liturgy of the Word, with readings, homily, and general intercessions; the Liturgy of the Eucharist, with the presentation of the bread and wine, the consecratory thanksgiving, and communion. The Liturgy of the Word and the Liturgy of the Eucharist together form one single act of worship; the table set for us is that of God’s Word and of the Body of the Lord.’ (CCC 1346)

[2]‘The inexhaustible richness of this sacrament is expressed in the different names we give it. Each name evokes certain aspects of it. It is called the Eucharistic assembly (synaxis) because the Eucharist is celebrated amid the assembly of the faithful, the visible expression of the Church. (cf. 1 Cor 11:17-34)’ (CCC 1328-1329)

[3]‘The inexhaustible richness of this sacrament is expressed in the different names we give it. It is called Communion because by this sacrament we unite ourselves to Christ, who makes us sharers in his Body and Blood to form a single body. (cf. 1 Cor 10:16-17)’ (CCC 1328-1329)

[4]It is necessary not to be in a state of mortal sin, for otherwise one must first go to confession. Moreover, until not very long ago — less than a hundred years ago, for instance in the time of Saint Therese of the Child Jesus — one could not receive Communion whenever one wished, or every Sunday. In order to do so, it was necessary to obtain the permission of one’s confessor. Furthermore, the age of First Communion has been restricted (whilst the Eastern Churches preserve the ancient practice), and in this way children are deprived of Communion: ‘Let the little children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.’ (Mark 10:14)

[5]These are hymns that very often have nothing whatsoever to do with Communion itself.

[6]Personally I am very fond of this prayer before a meal: ‘Lord, bless us, and bless this meal, and grant that this nourishment which we are about to receive may serve to your glory.’

[7]The Divine Liturgy (the Mass) is indeed the summit and the source of our Christian life, of evangelisation, and of our day. The Council recalls this on several occasions (cf. Vatican II, Lumen Gentium 11, Presbyterorum Ordinis 5, and CCC 1324).

[8]It is said that the Eucharistic fast consists of one hour before Communion — and absolutely not one hour before the beginning of Mass. This seems strange, for if Mass lasts one hour, it means that the fast is reduced to not eating inside the church — which is somewhat absurd.

[9]‘The Eucharist is also the sacrifice of the Church. The Church which is the Body of Christ participates in the offering of her Head. With him, she herself is offered whole and entire. She unites herself to his intercession with the Father for all men. In the Eucharist the sacrifice of Christ becomes also the sacrifice of the members of his Body. The lives of the faithful, their praise, sufferings, prayer, and work, are united with those of Christ and with his total offering and so acquire a new value. Christ’s sacrifice present on the altar makes it possible for all generations of Christians to be united with his offering.’ (CCC 1368)

[10]‘Finally, by the Eucharistic celebration we already unite ourselves with the heavenly liturgy’ (CCC 1326). ‘Each time the Church celebrates the Eucharist, the faithful can in a certain way relive the experience of the two disciples of Emmaus: “their eyes were opened and they recognised him” (Lk 24:31). The Eucharist is truly a glimpse of heaven appearing on earth. A ray of glory of the heavenly Jerusalem which pierces the clouds of our history and lights up our journey.’ (John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 19). ‘The liturgy is heaven on earth.’ (John Paul II, Orientale Lumen, no. 11)

[11]We give ourselves to Him and He gives Himself to us.

[12]‘Synaxis’ (from the Greek sunaxis): etymologically, gathering, association, encounter. A term used by the Fathers to denote the Eucharist, the Divine Liturgy, or the Mass — the celebration that culminates in communion with the divine mysteries. Personal union of the faithful with Christ, and union of the faithful with one another. In patristic literature, Synaxis is also used to denote the prayer or worship of monks. ‘In the Eucharist there is revealed the profound nature of the Church, the community of those who have been convoked for the Synaxis to celebrate the gift of the One who is at once the offerer and the offered: by participating in the Holy Mysteries they become blood relations of Christ, anticipating the experience of divinisation in the now inseparable bond that unites divinity and humanity in Christ.’ (John Paul II, Orientale Lumen, no. 10)

[13]‘There is thus a profound analogy between the fiat by which Mary responds to the words of the Angel and the amen which every faithful person pronounces when receiving the Body of the Lord.’ (John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 55)

[14]We ask God that, through the Holy Spirit, He may ‘make of us an eternal offering to your glory’ (cf. Eucharistic Prayer III of the Roman Rite) — and rightly so, for the moment of offering par excellence becomes the moment of Communion. It is there that the encounter between Christ and us takes place, and it takes place in the form of a mutual offering (or gift).

[15]John Paul II, Ecclesia de Eucharistia, no. 6.

[16]Saint Therese of the Child Jesus says that she wishes to renew her self-offering at every beat of her heart. Cf. the Act of Oblation to Merciful Love: ‘I desire, O my Beloved, to renew this offering to you at every beat of my heart, an infinite number of times, until the shadows having vanished, I may be able to tell you of my Love again in an eternal Face to Face!’ (Prayer 6)

[17]In the Escorial manuscript of the Way of Perfection (written earlier) she added: ‘Know that that time is most precious for the soul. In it the good Jesus greatly delights that you keep Him company. And you should seek to profit from it.’

[18]She is alluding to the habit of recollecting oneself in order to find God — a habit she will call the ‘Prayer of Recollection’ — and she holds that God always grants His grace (the general assistance of His grace) so that we may acquire this habit. It will draw us closer to God and render us more open to supernatural prayer.

[19]How important is desire in the prayer of the heart! One must enkindle desire!

[20]Of course He does not compel us, and the matter depends upon us.

[21]In the time of Saint Teresa, assisting at Mass did not ipso facto imply the possibility of receiving Communion — it was necessary to have the permission of one’s confessor.

[22]In cases where it is impossible to receive Communion physically, the Church recommends ‘spiritual communion,’ which consists in making interiorly within our heart a spiritual communion, receiving Christ into our heart. Let us note the closeness of these three acts: Communion, spiritual communion, and mental prayer.

[23]That is: ‘do not give up this practice.’ The method of entering into oneself, into the sanctuary of our heart — which is the house the Lord wishes to inhabit — entering it in order to find Him there and to enter into contact with Him. This habit, in the language of Saint Teresa, is the ‘Prayer of Recollection.’