On Spiritual Communion

A guest post from my fellow-Jesuit and Catching Fire co-blogger, Samuel Overloop SJ.


Roberto Beretta, an Italian journalist who writes for catholic newspapers and journals, attacks in no unclear terms the traditional practice of spiritual communion. He expresses his perplexity with this practice which he calls "one of the most subtle aberration of Christianity". I beg to differ.

For those not familiar with the practice of spiritual communion, it is often in the form of a small prayer which one says when not being able to receive communion at Mass. The purpose is to express on the one hand the desire to be united with Jesus in the sacrament of the Eucharist and, on the other hand, to express the belief that one is already in communion with Jesus.

My Jesus, I believe that you are in the Blessed Sacrament. I love you above all things, and I long for you in my soul. Since I cannot now receive you sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart. As though you have already come, I embrace you and unite myself entirely to you; never permit me to be separated from you. Amen.

Beretta has basically two arguments. The first is that it 'renders abstract that which is eminently concrete', and second, that it is a practice that was influenced by Jansenist worries of having to be 'pure' in order to receive the sacrament. Let's take them in turn.

The first argument is based on the assumption that spiritual communion is a sort of Eucharistic communion without receiving the Eucharist. If that is the case, than one can receive the grace of the sacrament, namely the union with the Mystical body of Christ, without receiving the 'concrete' sacrament: res sine sacramentu. Granted that the assumption is right, the practice of spiritual communion is indeed pernicious and dangerous to the doctrine of the Eucharist. What need is there after all of going to Mass? Beretta writes that 'evidently' spiritual communion can not be compared to the sacrament. Hence it is a 'fake' sacrament and the practice should be reconsidered.

However, the assumption is false. Evidently, spiritual communion is different from Eucharistic communion. It is not intended as a para-sacrament and it never was. In the words of Aquinas spiritual communion is "an ardent desire to receive Jesus in the Holy Sacrament and a loving embrace as though we had already received Him". Spiritual communion is intimately connected to the Eucharistic communion, but not in the sense that Beretta sees that relation. Spiritual communion is not the reality without the matter, but an expression of the desire to receive Jesus in the Eucharist. So instead of undermining the doctrine and practice of the Eucharist, it strengthens it.

The second argument Beretta employs consists in rendering absurd and backward those who want to defend the practice of spiritual communion. It is based on a fallacy by association. It is true that the practice of spiritual communion has been abused by 'jansenist' currents in the Church. But by affirming such a thing without qualification Beretta taints the practice of spiritual communion with the label of backward, pre-conciliar, traditionalist, ... Since he does not present a real argument, let me just reply in his own coin. People who recommended spiritual communion were among others Thomas Aquinas, Theresia of Avila and John Paul II. Surely not all were tainted with the 'Jansenist' streak?

Conclusions? There is no contradiction between practising spiritual communion and being faithful to the doctrine and practice of the Eucharist. The two arguments Beretta presents are both flawed. Of course, every practice has its excesses but that is no reason to condemn a practice. I agree with Beretta's last comments, namely that we have to take a good look at our devotional practices. Not in order to reject them, however, but in order to renew them and root them again in the Gospel and in Him who is our Salvation.

The Cave Temples (Part 1)

The first semester here at DNC ended just last Friday with the end of semester examinations. We now have a two-week break before the new semester begins. It is customary for the philosophers (philosophy scholastics) to go for a sight-seeing trip to either the Ajantha/Ellora caves or Goa (first and second-years respectively) during this period; theologians (theology scholastics) are free to join either group. All scholastics will have a 'Triduum' (three-day silent retreat) next week before we renew our vows in a special mass. (Left: the first-year philosophers of DNC - I'm second from right, top row)

The first-year philosophers didn't hang around very long after the end of exams; the Ajantha/Ellora trip began at midnight on Friday itself! First, there was a six-hour bus ride to Aurangabad (named after Aurangzeb, the last great Mughal emperor – more about him in Part 2), where we had been provided accommodation in the assembly hall of the high school run by the Holy Cross sisters. There was just enough time to wash up before we had Mass (pictured right) in the hall. The young sacristan had forgotten to bring a Bible along for the Mass readings, so my pocket copy of fellow-British Province Jesuit Fr. Nick King's translation had to come to the rescue. Although we didn't have hymn-books, I was very impressed by how well the scholastics sang many well-known English hymns (“As the deer pants”, “Take our bread” and so on) from memory; many of them have only learned English within the last 7-8 years since joining the Jesuits!

Breakfast, then another three-hour ride to our first major stop – the cave temples of Ajantha. The caves were hewn out of solid rock-face in a beautiful valley, where the river makes a U bend, nearly two-thousand years ago. In fact, the oldest cave temples here date back to the 2nd century BC. You cannot help but be impressed at the manner in which rock-cutters and sculptors must've worked decades in those times, hundreds of feet above the ground. But that isn't all, the craftsmanship and artistry of Ajantha can be admired as masterpieces in their own right. Perhaps it is the combination of cool breeze and lack of sunlight, but many of the cave paintings still retain their colour and lustre. And the brush work is so fine I needed to borrow a pair of binoculars at times to see the detail!

Like the vast majority of tourists there I was busy admiring the artwork when a Buddhist family from Bhutan (probably) came in and bowed to the massive figures of the Buddha. I was suddenly embarrassed to realise that I was standing on holy ground. This might be a cultural trip for me; for some it's a pilgrimage. How many times have I bemoaned the apparent lack of reverence of tourists in cathedrals in England? Who has the greater moral claim over historical sites of religious significance – governments representing the cultural interests of the general population, or adherents of those faiths? Personally, I have come to believe the true beauty or impact of a religious site can only be experienced when it is used in religious worship; it is then that dead hallways and sculptures come alive as spiritual spaces and icons. Wandering the caves of Ajantha, I tried to compose the scene as it must've looked like 15 centuries ago when Buddhism was at its peak in India; as thousands of pilgrims flocked to worship and pray even as construction work proceeded on new temples; as Buddhist monks spent their days meditating in Spartan cells in the caves; as the cave walls glittered with the brilliance of the latest techniques in mural painting and sculpture.

After lunch, we returned to Aurangabad, stopping on the way to enjoy two more sites – Bibi ka Maqbara (literally, “The Tomb of the Wife”; a scaled-down replica of the Taj Mahal built as a tomb for a local nobleman's wife) and the Panchakki (an aqueduct / water-mill system that is a fine feat of medieval engineering). Then supper, before retiring to bed after a very long and tiring, though illuminating, day.

DNC: First Impressions

I arrive at DNC before dawn after a 30-hour train ride from Ernakulam (Kerala), a 1,400km journey. It is hard to make out anything beyond the silhouettes of trees on either side of the drive up to the house (and it's impossible at that hour and that state of wakefulness to accurately judge even the length of the drive!) and a dark, forbidding house that stretches away into the shadows on either side. Once inside, the corridors felt labyrinthine. I am shown the philosophers' chapel on the way to my room. Mass is in just half an hour, so I make my way there in the dark.

A single incandescent bulb (which may or may not pass current EU regulations) is lit in the chapel. A silent scholastic starts preparing the altar for Mass. Other silhouettes meditate silently seated on the floor in the lotus position. I have brought my copy of Morning & Evening Prayer (Collins: London, 1976) with me, but it's too dark to read. I take up a position off to the side of the chapel. Then the scholastics (both philosophers and theologians – since this is exam/holiday time) start streaming in. Communion hosts are dropped into a special paten of traditional Indian design for the offertory. Hymn books are passed out. At 7:40am, the Mass begins.

I remember reading somewhere that over 20% of the Indian population speaks English. At over 200 million people, that makes India second only to the United States as the largest English-speaking nation in the world. At DNC, the medium of communication is usually English (except when scholastics/priests meet in province groups.) The daily Mass, too, is in English. But it's Indian English – English in a distinctively Indian lilt and rhythm, idiom and connotation.

Hans-Georg Gadamer highlighted the importance of linguistic/cultural tradition in understanding and interpretation. Given the importance of philosophical hermeneutics at JDV, it's not surprising that the liturgy and normative liturgical spaces at DNC have been interpreted with great intelligence and sensitivity within an apparent pan-Indian tradition. A larger-than-life painting of the Risen Jesus in the lotus position under the wisdom tree adorns the sanctuary wall of the chapel. The readings are read from a pedestal similar to the ones used to support the holy books of other faiths. The altar is a low table behind which the priest-celebrant sits on the floor. I may yet reflect more on this as the days and weeks pass.

After Mass, a hurried breakfast in a great hall with the sounds of over 100 young philosophers trying to swallow down pancakes with coconut chutney, have a pleasant chat and revise their points for the exams – all at the same time.

I'm tired, so I return to my room for a nap.