![\"Ancient](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/615\/2016\/12\/Theia_Koinwnia_3062.jpg\")
<\/a>One of my earliest childhood memories is my dad getting tipsy from the communion wine on Christmas Eve. Being a Eucharist minister, he was required to help the priest drink the rest of the wine because none of it can go to waste. On one particular Christmas Eve, he had to serve at a few different Masses. That night, he walked home with us after the children\u2019s Mass, elevated and in good spirits.<\/p>\n
When I told him about this a few weeks ago, he denied it with passion. He said it never happened, as if somehow I\u2019d mortally offended him. He\u2019s no longer a Catholic, but he didn\u2019t want to be associated with drunkenness in church, I suppose. Or maybe he wants to deny that he can\u2019t hold his liquor, that after one or two glasses of wine, he\u2019s a sentimental mush ball.<\/p>\n
What\u00a0he probably doesn\u2019t understand is that I consider this not only a fond memory\u00a0but an important theological lesson. Coming to the Eucharist should be a transformational event, and we should leave elevated. It\u2019s supposed to change you, transform you, and fill you, in the words of an Anglican minister friend of mine, \u201cwith eschatological joy.\u201d<\/p>\n
To me, it recalls to mind the words of the Anima Christi, a prayer meant to be said\u00a0after you receive the Eucharist:<\/p>\n
Soul of Christ, sanctify me.
\nBody of Christ, save me.
\nBlood of Christ, inebriate me.
\nWater from the side of Christ, wash me.
\nPassion of Christ, strengthen me.
\nO Good Jesus, hear me.
\nWithin your wounds hide me.
\nPermit me not to be separated from you.
\nFrom the wicked foe, defend me.
\nAt the hour of my death, call me
\nand bid me come to you
\nThat with your saints I may praise you
\nFor ever and ever. Amen.<\/p><\/blockquote>\nThe third line of this prayer jumps out at me every time: Blood of Christ, inebriate me.<\/em>\u00a0We don\u2019t often use the word \u201cinebriate\u201d in its verb form. But to \u201cinebriate\u201d means to intoxicate, to\u00a0transform one into an altered state, to make one lose his senses. It conveys a sense of almost dangerous happiness. We\u2019re not just getting tipsy here. We\u2019re stumbling around, the life of the party, laughing freely.<\/p>\n
This\u00a0calls to mind the apostles after the Fire of the Holy Spirit fills them at Pentecost, when they stumbled in the streets and spoke in strange languages. St. Peter had to reassure the people, with a wink and smile, I like to think, that the disciples were not in fact drunk.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s a reason Catholics and other Christians use wine at the Eucharist rather than just grape juice. Wine must undergo a process of transformation. When\u00a0you drink it, you know it; it warms your whole body, especially if it was made by monks, who seem to delight in making wine and spirits and even their fruitcakes especially potent. When I take the Eucharist, I keep it in my mouth until I drink the wine, letting it flood and dissolve the wafer into my body. The warmth floods my limbs, my heart, and my soul. \u00a0I feel joy, transformation and change, even if it is just for a moment.<\/p>\n
I need it. This season of my life is difficult in so many different ways. Very often, joy seems to have taken the last train, giving me the finger as it rides out of town. But every time I go to Mass to eat Christ\u2019s body and drink His blood, joy returns.<\/p>\n
Some might say that\u2019s the wine talking, not the Blood of Christ. Maybe that\u2019s because they\u2019ve been trained to\u00a0think in either\/or terms instead of the both\/and of Catholicism and sacramental theology. At consecration\u00a0what was once only wine becomes\u00a0the blood \u00a0of Christ. Not only will it elevate my body, it will elevate my soul.\u00a0To drink grape juice out of a plastic cup in my old Protestant days always made me feel like a preschooler who needed a cookie and a nap. There\u2019s no real transformational joy there\u2013not intoxicating moment\u2013at least, not for me.<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t wait for Christmas Eve, when I will\u00a0walk to the altar and hear the Eucharistic Minister say,\u00a0\u201cThe Blood of Christ,\u201d as she offers me the cup. I\u2019ll say amen, yes, it is. I\u2019ll let the Blood of Christ inebriate me as I celebrate the Lord of Creation born in the shit and the straw. For me. For everyone. For the entire creation.<\/p>\n
Give me the wine. And the joy, for a little while.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
One of my earliest childhood memories is my dad getting tipsy from the communion wine on Christmas Eve. Being a Eucharist minister, he was required to help the priest drink the rest of the wine because none of it can go to waste. On one particular Christmas Eve, he had to serve at a few […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1351,"featured_media":3235,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,26,70],"tags":[1706,1707,1708,55,54,1705],"class_list":["post-3167","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-catholicism","category-dark-devotional","category-personal-essay","tag-blood-of-christ","tag-christmas-eve","tag-drunk","tag-eucharist","tag-mass","tag-wine"],"yoast_head":"\n
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