The Minutes Before Communion

The Eucharistic prayer is supposed to be a moment of deep reverence. The heart of the Mass. The consecration.

And sometimes I’m barely paying attention because I’m calculating.

Which line is shortest? Is the priest distributing or a Eucharistic minister? Did I see them handle regular hosts before the low-gluten ones? Should I go to the cup? Is there a cup today? Where is it? What if the minister doesn’t know what I need?

My heart is racing. Not from awe. From logistics.

If you’ve experienced this, you’re not alone.

The Mental Load

Here’s what might be running through my head during a Mass where I don’t have a pre-arranged solution:

“Did I see anyone with a pyx? Is there a spot where they’re distributing low-gluten hosts? The usual minister isn’t here today, does the new person know what they’re doing? What if I get to the front and they don’t have any? I could go to the cup only but I’d have to cross to that station and everyone would wonder why I skipped the host. What if the cup is at the far end and I’d look weird going there? What if there’s no cup today?”

This internal monologue can consume entire portions of the Mass. I’ve missed readings, missed the homily, missed the consecration itself, because my brain was problem-solving.

Why It Happens

The anxiety makes sense:

Unpredictability: Every Mass is slightly different. Different ministers, different procedures, different availability.

High stakes (spiritually): This matters. Receiving the Eucharist matters. Not receiving matters too, in a different way.

High stakes (physically): Getting it wrong means getting sick. Real consequences.

Social visibility: You’re doing this in front of everyone. The communion line is public.

Past bad experiences: If you’ve been refused, handed a regular host, or gotten sick, your brain remembers.

The anxiety is a rational response to an unpredictable situation with real consequences.

What Helps

Establishing Routines

If possible, attend the same Mass at the same parish. Learn who the Eucharistic ministers are. Get known. Establish a routine where the ministers expect you.

Predictability reduces anxiety. Every bit of routine you can create helps.

Arriving With a Plan

Before Mass, know your plan:

• Are you bringing your own host in a pyx?
• Are you receiving from the cup only?
• Is there a designated spot for low-gluten hosts?
• Do you need to speak to someone beforehand?

Having a plan, even if it changes, reduces the mental load during Mass.

Speaking Up Before Mass

This feels awkward but helps enormously. Find the sacristan, the priest, or a minister before Mass starts:

“I have celiac disease. I need [low-gluten host / to receive from the cup only / to use my own host from this pyx]. Can you help me know where to go?”

Now someone knows. You’re not showing up unexpected. The anxiety drops.

Accepting Imperfection

Some Masses won’t go smoothly. You might get confused. A minister might not know. You might have to make a game-time decision.

That’s okay. God doesn’t grade you on communion logistics. You’re trying. You’re showing up.

The Cup-Only Option

If the anxiety is too much, receiving from the cup only is a valid choice. It’s the full Eucharist. Nothing is missing.

For me, there’s something more anxiety-provoking about going to the cup only, I feel visible, like everyone is wondering why I skipped the host. But practically, it eliminates the host logistics entirely.

If this option feels less anxious to you, take it. It’s a legitimate way to receive.

The Guilt Layer

Sometimes I feel guilty about the anxiety itself.

“I should be focused on Christ, not on logistics.”

“Everyone else seems to receive with such peace. What’s wrong with me?”

“I’m making this about me when it should be about God.”

But here’s the thing: the logistical situation exists. It’s not imaginary. Dealing with it isn’t selfishness, it’s the reality of having a chronic condition that intersects with how the sacrament is administered.

God knows. God understands. God doesn’t condemn you for having a brain that tries to solve problems.

Separating Anxiety from Reverence

I’ve tried to create mental separation:

Before Mass: Do your logistics. Figure out your plan. Make your arrangements.

During Mass: Trust the plan. If anxiety arises, acknowledge it and return attention to the liturgy.

During the approach: Focus on Christ, not on the mechanics.

After receiving: Rest in having received.

This isn’t perfect. The anxiety still intrudes. But having dedicated “logistics time” before Mass helps keep it from consuming the whole experience.

A Prayer for the Anxious Heart

Lord, my heart is racing when it should be resting.

I’m thinking about ministers and lines and hosts when I should be thinking about You.

You know what I need. You know my body. You know my fear.

Help me trust that You’ve got this. Help me rest in coming to You, even if the path there is complicated.

Calm my anxious heart. Let me receive You in peace.

Amen.

The Longer View

The anxiety diminishes with time and experience. As you establish routines, as you find parishes that work, as you build relationships with priests and ministers, the unpredictability decreases.

It never fully goes away for me. Every new parish, every unusual situation, brings it back. But it’s not as overwhelming as it was in the first months.

You’re not failing if you’re anxious. You’re dealing with something real. And you’re still showing up.

That counts for something.