Friday, July 20, 2012

A Traditionalist from the Start...

No communion in the hand for me, Father, thank you.

There are hardly any pictures of me as a kid, so it's kind of miraculous that the moment of my first holy Communion has been captured and survived (though in a rather tattered form). The photo certainly didn't survive because I carefully treasured and preserved it. I came across it purely by chance not long ago. I don't know the name of the priest or the woman smiling in the background.

I don't remember much of the day. I remember getting dressed seemed to take forever, and feeling irritated at all the fuss about my suit. I remember being embarrassed that everybody was giving me money (a rather unfortunate practice in Ireland). I remember the jellies at the communion breakfast. I also remember being very taken with the prayer booklet we were given, which is, alas, long lost.

(P.S. Please note that my first sentence is meant in a light-hearted way, so no comments about early Chuch Eucharistic practices or what the Catechism says about reception in the hand are necessary...)

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