06/14/2026

I recently read a story by a priest who wrote about bringing Holy Communion to a dying woman in the hospital. She had not been able to attend Mass for months. Her body was failing rapidly, and by the time he arrived, she was barely conscious. Family members surrounded the bed. Machines hummed softly. The room carried that strange silence hospitals often have near the end of life.

The priest was not even sure she knew he was there.

He leaned close and whispered, “Mary, I brought you Holy Communion.” Immediately, her eyes opened. Not fully. Just enough. But her entire face changed.

With great effort, she lifted her hands slightly from the bed and tried to make the Sign of the Cross. The priest placed only a tiny fragment of the Host on her tongue.

Afterward, she closed her eyes again — peaceful now. One of her daughters began to cry and said, “She hasn’t responded to anyone all day.”

The priest later reflected that in that moment he realized again something profoundly true: deep within the human soul is a hunger nothing in this world can satisfy. Not success. Not comfort. Not entertainment. Not even the love of family. We were made for communion with God.

As it turned out, Mary died a short time after receiving that final Holy Communion — what the Church calls Viaticum, “food for the journey.”

I can relate to this story because I have witnessed similar moments countless times as a priest. Receiving Communion near the end of life often seems to revive a person for a brief time, and then bring a deep peace as they prepare to meet the Lord.

The Eucharist does something to us. It does something for us.

Which raises an important question: Why do Catholics celebrate Mass so often and receive Holy Communion so regularly? There are many reasons: We do it because at the Last Supper Jesus told us to: “Do this in memory of me.” We do it because the Mass perpetuates the saving mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection and draws us into participation in that mystery. We do it because the Eucharist fortifies the spirit, increases charity, forgives venial sins, and strengthens our relationship with God.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus says something shocking: “My flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink.” In other words: “I do not merely want to teach you from a distance. I want to unite Myself to you.” That is the heart of Corpus Christi. Jesus does not simply want admirers. He wants communion.

When He says, “Do this in memory of me,” He is not saying merely, “Think about me occasionally,” or “Remember my teachings.” He is saying: “Keep repeating this. Enter again and again into My sacrifice, My presence, My life.”

On the feast of Corpus Christi, we celebrate that the Creator of the universe makes Himself small enough to be received, close enough to dwell within us, loving enough to feed us with His own life. And perhaps one sign that the Eucharist truly comes from God is this: the holiest people in history never seemed to move beyond it.

The saints never “outgrew” the Mass. They became more hungry for it. Because when everything else in life is stripped away — health, strength, accomplishments, even words — the soul still recognizes Jesus when He comes near.

While Viaticum is powerful food for the final journey of the dying, the Eucharist is intended primarily for the living. It is meant for us now. In Holy Communion, Jesus Christ — Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity — comes to us physically in order to nourish us spiritually.

• In the Eucharist, we have the same access to the Lord of the universe that the Apostles had at the Last Supper.
• We have the same access to the saving death of Christ that the Virgin Mary, Mary Magdalene, and John had at the foot of the Cross.
• We have the same access to the Risen Lord that Saint Thomas had when he touched the wounds in Jesus’ hands and side.

​Recently, I was reflecting on this connection while thinking about the Sacred Heart of Jesus (June is the month of the Sacred Heart.):

Last September I visited Paray-le-Monial in France, where St. Margaret Mary Alacoque received the revelations of the Sacred Heart. In the chapel where she is buried, I noticed that the tabernacle — where the Eucharist is reserved — was shaped like a heart. Even the niche holding the sanctuary candle was carved in the shape of a heart.

It struck me that the Eucharist is the Sacred Heart of Jesus reaching into our hearts. The image of the Sacred Heart shows Christ burning with love for humanity. The Eucharist is how He communicates that love personally and intimately to each one of us.

Every Holy Communion is an encounter with the Heart of Christ. And when, after receiving Communion, we become aware of our own hearts burning with love for Him, gratitude, peace, repentance, longing — we are experiencing the beginning of what we were created for.

That Communion sustains us as we live. And, God willing, that Communion will fortify us as we die.
​
-Rev. James F. Hurlbert

---