Communion Calls. Frank Campisi
you do that for me, while I am away?”
How could I say no?
I told her that I had no pyx. I had never had a reason to have one before. However, we arranged that I would borrow hers for the time being. She instructed me to remain near the altar just before the Sacrament was to be placed back into the tabernacle, and the deacon or priest would ask how many additional hosts were needed. I was to ask for ten, because although I was only planning on visiting six residents at the facility, a visitor or staff member may ask to receive as well.
In my role of being an EM at Mass, I had never even noticed that there were EMs that remained near the altar until the Blessed Sacrament was reposed, for this purpose. Fulfilling my role, I was happily back at my place, satiated that I had done something, saying thanks to the Lord for allowing me to be that close to Him, probably with my head down in prayer. Yet these others were being sent forth to bring Jesus Christ to those who physically could not be in the assembly. They were truly doing something, and I had been missing it. Now, my eyes were about to be opened to really doing something. Being an EM at Mass is necessary and vital to the flow and pace of the ceremony, but bringing Jesus to someone who physically cannot be present? That is truly doing something as I thought more about it.
My calling to do something more had blossomed into an opportunity to serve both others and the Lord. After taking Jackie’s place for just two weeks, I developed a longing to continue. Through the many visits I would make-- some “one-timers”, others over the course of years-- week after week, month after month, I learned the value of what this ministry provides. While at its core, the EM brings the consecrated Eucharist to the waiting Communicant. However, after many calls, I realized I was just a tiny part of what takes place.
Communion, communication, and community. All words stemming from the same root in Latin, communitatem. A sense of fellowship, and courtesy shared by all. While there are many other terms in relation, the English word common seems to stand out. When an EM takes the Blessed Sacrament from a faith community and brings it to where they are, Jesus allows for any person-- no matter age, ability, or location-- to be connected to a family, to that family, of believers.
Jackie’s request opened my eyes to the role of an EM as a bridge to a part of the community that is not only hungry for the divinity found in the Body of Christ, but also, many times, starving for the humanity found in the visit of the person who brings Jesus to them.
Scott
Jackie understood my apprehension about taking on this new task and going on my first Communion calls. There were a few weeks before her scheduled trip, so she suggested that I tag along with her at the nursing home to test the waters, for multiple reasons. First, the patients would then recognize me after accompanying her. Secondly, I could observe exactly what she did, from the prayers and readings, to the discussions. And in addition, the nursing home staff would also get to know me. Her introductions would provide familiarity, which would help start relationships.
After the 9:00 AM Sunday Mass the next week, I got in my car and followed Jackie the few miles down the road to the nursing home and rehab center. We checked in and obtained our visitor’s badges. Jackie exchanged pleasantries with an employee at the front desk. I got the feeling they knew each other fairly well, and that Jackie must have been coming here for quite a while. She knew exactly which rooms she was going to and where they were; our first stop would be to visit a man named Scott.
As we reached the closed door, she stopped abruptly and turned to me. In a hushed tone, she asked “Have you ever met anyone with ALS or Lou Gehrig’s Disease?”
I shook my head. From my expression, she must have known I was very uneasy about how to approach the situation.
“It’s fine. Scott cannot talk and can barely move. But he’s aware of everything, so you can talk to him, and he will try to respond to you. I just didn’t want you to be startled,” Jackie explained, touching me gently on the wrist.
Before opening the door, she paused.
“One more thing,” she whispered. “He’s a pretty young guy, like in his thirties.”
With that, she gave me a smile, and with her signature accent, told me, “Okay love, let’s go.”
What Jackie had told me had barely prepared me for what I saw upon entering. This man was only a bit older than me, with his hands and feet both curled and contorted. While he was a physically large man, he seemed frail and was drooling. He faced the window and appeared to be sleeping, or on the verge of falling asleep. As I was taking in my surroundings, Jackie interrupted by greeting him.
“Scott? I came back to see you.”
He twisted immediately, and flailed violently, grunting as if he was angry or in pain. She calmly took his hand and stroked it gently, despite its awkward angle.
“Do you want to receive Jesus?”
I realized that he was not angry at all; rather his reaction was the only sound he could make. When he heard the name Jesus, his mouth produced the biggest smile. It was the only part of his body that he maintained some control over. Jackie’s smile denoted her delight.
“That’s my friend’s smile, that’s what I love to see each week,” she said, before turning to me to begin.
She instructed me to break off just a tiny piece of a host because he could potentially choke on a whole host. She placed the tiny piece of the Blessed Sacrament in his mouth, not minding the excess drool that spilled onto her finger. He instinctively began a chewing motion, and closed his eyes.
I was captivated by the scene and consumed by taking mental notes. What amazed me was the stillness that came over Scott for just a few seconds as he prayed. His mouth was closed, and he was still. I glanced at Jackie, her head hung in reverent prayer, as well. As this aura of peace fell upon the room in that moment, I must have stood there with my jaw dropped open.
After a short time, Jackie gestured to him, “Okay love, this is Frank. He will bring Jesus to you when I go on vacation, so I wanted you to meet him.”
Scott raised his hand as if to shake mine, using the same hand that Jackie had earlier stroked to calm him. It wasn’t a normal handshake by any means, but it was my first contact with someone who was severely ill. That being, outside of my own family. As we shook hands, he gave me that same smile he gave Jackie when she had mentioned our Lord’s name. I knew it was going to be just fine.
We said goodbye to Scott and made our way to the other rooms with other patients. In all honesty, none of them made any lasting impressions on me. They were pleasant, older folks, who were all in various states of failing health. Some were chattier than others. Some wanted to hear the readings of the day. Others just accepted the Eucharist quietly and briefly thanked us for coming. In all, we probably spent about 90 minutes in the nursing home that day, with nothing too out of the ordinary. Yet, the very short time with Scott, which was the shortest of all the visits, was the most personally profound. I reflected on how Scott shared the same smile for me as he had for Christ, and it made me pause.
Scott (Revisited)
I approached my first official solo EM visit with apprehension, but I was thankful that Jackie had taken me with her beforehand. I attended Mass, received my allotment of hosts, and as the pastor dismissed me with a prayer, an inexplicable calmness came over me. A feeling that everything would be fine, just like when I had shook Scott’s hand on our first meeting washed over me. I nodded to my wife as I passed her and went straight away to my car. It felt almost disrespectful to walk out before Mass ended, but I was charged with carrying the Blessed Sacrament to the sick and homebound. These were the direct words from the blessing. I got in the car and had the strangest thought.
Do I hold the pyx the whole time I’m driving, or do I put it on the passenger seat?
I chuckled at the thought of buckling it in as I drove away, with the pyx resting comfortably beside me in my passenger seat. I liked the thought of Jesus riding shotgun with me.
I made the quick trip to the nursing home facility, checked in, and got my visitor badge. My first