When Thomas turned seven last year, one of the first questions he asked was “Can I serve on the altar now?” Stuck in the pews with the ladies, he has watched and waited as his four older brothers served. I guess Scott was sitting with us too, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy Thomas.
Well, of course, things have been a little sporadic with church-going opportunities, so he was forced to wait. But anytime we were at a Mass, Thomas would look up at me with hope in his eyes, and I would have to tell him, “Sorry hon, not today.”
Thomas isn’t one to let things just happen on their own. One Sunday, when Masses were “allowed,” he entered the church with confidence in his step. He looked up at Father and made the audacious request. Perhaps it was Tommy’s boldness, or his cute little suit, or maybe it was just because there weren’t many people in the sanctuary and it couldn’t do any harm, but Father said yes. Thomas was vested and on the altar before you could say “transubstantiation.”
He came home and marked the day on the calendar, in pen. Anyone who saw him in the next few weeks heard of the joyous event. When he served the second time, it also was marked on the calendar. He really, really loves being an altar boy.
In one of his few opportunities to serve, a chance came for Tommy to be at the altar. By this I mean that Tommy wasn’t just sitting on the benches with his hands folded, looking cute and holy. Thomas actually got to kneel at the altar behind the priest during consecration. This was his moment of glory.
After Mass, Thomas came up into my lap and kissed me, still vested. He looked me in the eye and said, “Mommy, do you know what I kept thinking of during consecration, when Father was holding the host?”
“No, I don’t know,” I replied, anxious to hear his holy thoughts, “tell me.”
“When Father was holding the host and breaking it into pieces into the chalice, all I could think of was bread pudding!” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Now I really want bread pudding!”
When he saw the shock in my face he giggled a little. His absolutely sincere and innocent sharing was quickly turning into a joke, as he could tell in my response that perhaps it wasn’t quite usual to think about bread pudding during holy Communion. I didn’t really know what to say to my little fallen angel, so I kind of shushed him and reminded him of the seriousness of the Eucharist.
Later, as I was thinking (and laughing) about it, I came to a couple of conclusions about the bread pudding incident. Firstly, Thomas was only able to make the comparison between the Breaking of the Bread with the breaking of our bread because he was watching so intently. He was watching Father closely, his hands and their actions, the host breaking above the chalice. That is a good thing! In truth, I can now see how bread pudding came to mind, as he’s helped me rip up bread crusts before to make it. As silly as it was, his thoughts were truly sincere, and born out of serious observation.
Thomas wasn’t up there twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling. He was carefully watching consecration, thinking and pondering, as we all should. What came to his mind, unbidden, was the natural response to authentic seven-year-old contemplation.
Secondly, Thomas loves bread pudding. I mean, he loves bread pudding. If he sees me collecting bread crusts in a plastic bag his mouth starts to drool. To associate the holy Eucharist with something that makes your mouth water cannot be a bad thing. In fact, the holy Scriptures themselves do it: “With the finest of wheat, and with honey from a rock will I satisfy you” (Ps. 81). The whole situation suddenly became a blessed event! If God prefigures his precious body and blood with bread and honey, certainly I can’t blame Thomas for doing the same. It’s nearly patristic!
As a homeschooling mother, I can certainly say that I have learned more about pretty much everything in these past years than I ever did during my own education. And sometimes those lessons are as simple as “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”
Holy Week is days away, and with it comes Holy Thursday and the great gift of Christ, given as Food to the hungry. I think I might do well to imitate the faith of my child, to watch the hands of the priest with a little more pondering and contemplation, and to pray that the precious host will fill me too with overwhelming longing and joy.
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