Category: Liturgy

A reader writes:

I’ve really been enjoying your blog for the past
couple of months.  I also recently got a used copy of
your book The Salvation Controversy from amazon.com,
and was happy to discover that it was autographed in
the front.  The autograph is apparently from the
"James" years, so I wonder if it will be a limited
edition collectors’ item someday. 😉

Maybe. I was foolish enough for a few years to avoid my legal birthname–Jimmy–in quest of the "more dignified" James (during which time I also suppressed the native Southern elements of my speech), but I don’t know that it’ll have any economic impact on the value of my writings. Such foolishness can be part of growing up, but I don’ t know that it’ll make the stuff I write any more valuable. Maybe you could get an extra nickle. 😉

I’m writing you because I have a question, but let me
first give you a brief background.  I am a (former
Methodist, current Southern Baptist) student who will
soon be graduating with a Master of Music degree from
a Baptist seminary, and (get this), largely because of
my studies at seminary, I do believe I may be on the
way to becoming a Catholic!

Congratulations!

I’ve been doing a lot of
research (much of it on the Catholic Answers website),
and I’m thinking that next fall I’ll probably start
RCIA.  It’s kind of scary, but I’m definitely feeling
the pull in this direction.

My question is this, and on one level it’s kind of
silly. 

Okay, but I don’t view there as being silly questions, only silly answers.

I’ve never been much of a kneeler, mainly
because it hurts if I do it for very long.  I go to
mass a lot with my mother (who converted to
Catholicism three years ago), and sometimes I try to
kneel some (they do have kneelers, and no one else
seems to have much trouble with this except maybe an
older lady here or there who stays seated). But I
knelt for some of the Good Friday service the other
day, and I’ve hardly been able to walk all day today!
This happened once before too, though on that
occassion I intentionally stayed kneeling even though
I was in pain during a mass (I guess what I thought
was a Catholic notion of self-mortification or
something-I’m all new at this).

What I’ve run across on the Catholic Answers website
seems to indicate that during certain portions of the
mass, the faithful are supposed to kneel unless health
reasons indicate otherwise.  I suppose this is some
kind of health reason, though I’ve never actually been
diagnosed with anything.  (My mom has suggested that I
may be getting arthritis, which is of course always
welcome news at my young age!) 

Do cradle Catholics build up
more knee strength over the years? 

That’s an interesting question, and the only thing I can say is, "perhaps." I don’t think it takes years, though. Once you start using your muscles in a new way, they build up pretty quickly. I’d think that any added knee strength from kneeling would be built up in a matter of weeks, not years.

Does anyone else
have this problem? 

Oh, sure. Lotsa folks have knee problems or back problems or what have you. I myself have a back problem and can’t always kneel. (Incidentally, you don’t need a diagnosis for a medical condition to be excused from kneeling, you just need the medical condition.)

If I do become Catholic, will
people think I’m some sort of unpious wimp because I’m
not kneeling?

No. Like I said, lotsa folks are unable to kneel–either temporarily or permanently–and just staying in your seat won’t really attract attention. When I’ve been unable to kneel, I’ve never had anybody wrinkle their nose at me (and I’m usually totally anonymous in church, so it’s not like I get any deference for being an apologist or having a blog or anything).

Besides, if anybody did wrinkle their nose at me for not kneeling, all that would mean is that they’re paying attention to me instead of to the Mass, so I could wrinkle my nose right back at them.

Are you supposed to feel pain when you
kneel?

A little discomfort, maybe, but actual pain, no–certainly not anything that make it hard for you to walk afterwards. That goes beyond pain to doing some kind of actual damage to the body, and that isn’t the goal of kneeling. If you’re having anything like that then you are unambiguously excused from kneeling.

I wouldn’t worry about the issue of kneeling. If you find it too difficult to do–temporarily or permanently–then you are excused from the requirement, and people will not notice or care if you just sit. Even if they did, the important thing is being in union with Christ’s Church and receiving Jesus in the Eucharist. That’s where one’s focus should be.

 

Thank you so much for all you do.  It is obvious from
hearing you on the radio and reading your writings
that you both really understand the Catholic faith and
have a heart for people.

Thanks. You are too kind.

This week’s The Word From Rome (which may have to get retitled "The Word From New York" given John Allen’s plans to relocate to the states) contains a piece about the speculations that Pope Benedict would announce a universal indult for celebrating the Tridentine Rite of Mass during Triduum.

Personally, I always thought this was a long shot, though I anticipate that there will be greater and possibly universal permission to celebrate the Tridentine Rite at some point. It was the timing of publicly announcing it during Holy Week that was the issue, since this would take the focus off of the Holy Week celebrations entirely, with a media firestorm errupting.

Allen has been talking to some Vatican sources about the kind of reactions B16 has been getting in his discussions with cardinals on the topic:

"Whenever there have been meetings about this among the cardinals, it’s not just that there’s division," he said. "The overwhelming majority is against it [universal permission to celebrate the old rite]. It’s not like it’s fifty-fifty."

This source pointed out that just two weeks ago, in Benedict’s closed-door meeting with cardinals, the bulk of cardinals who spoke were against such a move.

"If it were up to Castrillon Hoyos, it would already have happened," the source said, referring to Colombian Cardinal Dario Castrillon Hoyos, head of the Ecclesia Dei Commission for traditionalist Catholics.

"But Benedict is trying to operate on the basis of consensus, and there’s just no consensus," he said.

Another senior Vatican official said simply, "It is not a theme that is yet mature."

Here’s Allen’s bottom-line assessment:

Given the way Benedict XVI has played his cards close to the chest on other matters, it’s possible that a document is in the works without most of his key advisors knowing about it. But so far, on this issue, what we have is a lot of smoke in search of a fire.

GET THE STORY.

A reader writes:

I have heard you and others say it is not written that holding hands is part of the proper way to say the Lords Prayer during the Liturgy. I have looked in the GIRM. No instructions are given as to posture, sitting, standing or holding hands. Is there another reference I can read about the church’s instructions?

The posture for this point in the liturgy is standing. This actually is found in the GIRM, but it isn’t as explicit as one might want. Here is the reference:

43. The faithful should stand from the beginning of the Entrance chant, or while the priest approaches the altar, until the end of the Collect; for the Alleluia chant before the Gospel; while the Gospel itself is proclaimed; during the Profession of Faith and the Prayer of the Faithful; from the invitation, Orate, fraters (Pray, brethren), before the prayer over the offerings until the end of Mass, except at the places indicated below.

They should, however, sit while the readings before the Gospel and the responsorial Psalm are proclaimed and for the homily and while the Preparation of the Gifts at the Offertory is taking place; and, as circumstances allow, they may sit or kneel while the period of sacred silence after Communion is observed.

In the dioceses of the United States of America, they should kneel beginning after the singing or recitation of the Sanctus until after the Amen of the Eucharistic Prayer, except when prevented on occasion by reasons of health, lack of space, the large number of people present, or some other good reason. Those who do not kneel ought to make a profound bow when the priest genuflects after the consecration. The faithful kneel after the Agnus Dei unless the Diocesan Bishop determines otherwise.

With a view to a uniformity in gestures and postures during one and the same celebration, the faithful should follow the directions which the deacon, lay minister, or priest gives according to whatever is indicated in the Missal.

The part in blue is what governs the posture during the Lord’s Prayer. Since this occurs after the Orate, Fratres ("Pray, Bretheren") it is in the part of Mass where standing is the default posture. There is no exception carved out for it in what follows, so standing is what is supposed to be happening for the Lord’s Prayer.

Standing means standing without doing anything fancy with your arms. It is distinct, for example, from the orans posture, which the priest uses when he stands and prays with arms outstretched. It is also distinct from the hand-holding posture.

The latter is not expressly forbidden in liturgical law because it is one of those "Please don’t eat the daisies" situations. The legislator (the pope) did not envision that anybody would try to alter the standing posture in this way. As a result, the practice is not expressly forbidden, the same way that standing on one foot and hopping up and down as an effort to get closer to God in heaven is not expressly forbidden.

In general what liturgical documents do is to say what people should be doing and not focus on what they should not be doing (though there are exceptions). To prevent "Please don’t eat the daisies" situations, what the law does is prohibit things that aren’t mentioned in the liturgical books. Here’s the basic rule:

Can.  846 §1. In celebrating the sacraments the liturgical books approved by competent authority are to be observed faithfully; accordingly, no one is to add, omit, or alter anything in them on one’s own authority.

Changing from standing to hand holding during the Lord’s Prayer would be an alteration or addition of something provided for in the liturgical books and thus would be at variance with the law.

The reader also writes:

I have also heard the term "the rubrics of the Mass". Is this a separate document? If so, where do I find it at?

The rubrics aren’t found in a separate book. They’re little instructions written into the Sacramentary itself. For example, they tell the priest when to perform certain actions with respect to the prayers that he is saying. To set them off from the text of the prayers (which are printed in black ink), these instructions are printed in red ink. The Latin word for red is "ruber," and so the little red instructions in book came to be called "rubrics."

If you’d like to see them, just look in a normal Sacramentary. (Though they won’t address hand holding either.)

One of the pitfalls of becoming a Catholic educated in the faith is that occasions for outrage rise exponentially. One of my favorite parts of Mass as a baby Catholic was joining hands to sing the Our Father. Now I dread the touch on my arm — or the occasional poke in the ribs — that signals that someone isn’t listening to my “I don’t hold hands at the Our Father”-body language.

As I learned more about Liturgical Correctness — have you noticed that “liberal” Catholics are Politically Correct and “conservative” Catholics are Liturgically Correct? — I struggled with maintaining a sense of worship while a Mass would circle the Pit of Relativity. I wasn’t interested in signing up with radical Traditionalism but I sympathized with the outrage radical Traditionalists feel when liturgical rubrics intended to safeguard the dignity of the Mass are treated as menu options at Cafeteria Catholicism.

One article that helped me during this time was a piece Jimmy wrote on maintaining spiritual peace in the midst of problems in the Church. I especially took heed at the image of outraged congregants becoming spiritual fruitchuckers and my prayer at Mass for spiritual peace would often consist of “Lord, please don’t let me become a spiritual fruitchucker.”

GET THE STORY.

Fortunately for me, over the years that I’ve attended, my parish has improved. So much so that I would unhesitatingly recommend it to anyone seeking a Good Parish in San Diego. A lot of the longstanding liturgical abuses — everything from a missing altar crucifix during Advent and Easter to a horde of EMHCs gathered ’round the altar — have been swept away. Parish life has also improved: We are blessed with perpetual eucharistic adoration (the establishment of this being the point at which I detected the shift to parish orthopraxy) and with regular retreats, missions, and seminars offered by solidly-orthodox lay speakers.

That’s why I was caught off-guard this past Sunday. Here’s what happened:

Because this Mass hosted the third Lenten scrutiny for the RCIA, we used the alternate readings, which meant that the Gospel reading was the raising of Lazarus. I closed my eyes in disgust when three of the lay RCIA facilitators traipsed up to the altar to join in the “interactive” Gospel reading — something only supposed to happen on Palm Sunday and Good Friday. But it was when one of the lay readers cordially invited us to sit for the Gospel that I had to choke back some heated commentary of my own. It had been awhile since this particular abuse had occurred but this time I managed to lower the kneeler without thumping it against the floor in outrage. (My solution to previous invitations to sit for the Gospel had been to kneel — a more profound sign of reverence than standing — rather than contribute to the spectacle by being the lone person standing.) When the “players” proceeded to use a translation not found in my missalette, I dropped my head into my hands and spent the Gospel reading praying for spiritual peace.

The show over, the priest gave a good homily but one that seemed strangely brief. Immediately we found out why: The rest of the time for the homily had been given over to a lay speaker there to encourage everyone to attend a Lenten mission he’d be conducting this week. Although I’d have preferred for the priest to have given a short homily and then invited the layman to speak during the period for announcements — he could even have mentioned at the end of his homily that the layman would be speaking during the announcements to let the early-birds know not to run out during the announcements — I found myself enjoying the talk and looking forward to the Lenten mission. Surely, thought I, the peace I’d prayed for had been granted.

Then came time for the priest to impose hands on the elect. First, though, we sat through a litany of the personal hopes and needs of each candidate. “Free X from bondage to procrastination,” chanted our cantor, “That he might find resolve in you.” Obviously X and his fellow candidates in RCIA had been asked to plug in the vice to which they were enslaved and the virtue they prayed would replace it.  (Curiously, at least three candidates wanted to be freed from Demon Procrastination, so I wondered if the RCIA director had suggested it as a Sample Vice that could penned into the "vice" blank.)  As I’ve done for several Lents now, I once again gave thanks that my RCIA experience in this parish ten years previously had not required me to bare my soul like this. There’s a reason the Church moved from public to private confession over a millennium ago.

Finally the priest imposed his hands and prayed over the candidates, so I thought we were blessedly done with this and could move on to the Creed. Nope. First the congregation was cordially invited to extend their hands to the elect and pray along with the priest. Then we were to “welcome” the elect with a hearty round of applause. To all the world appearing mean and curmudgeonly because I did not want to join in this, I prayed but did not extend my hand and settled for aiming a bright smile of welcome to the elect rather than applaud.

Finally, finally, it was done. The elect were sent back to their seats and we could continue with the Mass. But by this time even the priest apparently was so disoriented that he completely forgot to lead us in the Creed and the prayers of intercession, instead skipping directly to the offeratory. While the congregation was busily singing a hymn of repentance (I kid you not), I flipped to the Creed and, sotto voce, read it aloud. (I’ve found that even a memorized prayer is hard to recall when everyone else is singing a song.)

So, did I leave that Mass angry? Thankfully, no. By the time Mass was over, my spiritual equilibrium was back in place. Certainly grace played its part, but I also reminded myself how rare such spectacles had become at this particular parish. I reminded myself of the overwhelming good this parish has done, and not because I had been in any way directly involved in shaping the parish’s liturgical or communal life. A host of good people, clerical and lay, could take credit for that. All for which I could take credit — and even the credit for this that was mine was limited because God deserved most of it — was for triumphing over the temptation to become a spiritual fruitchucker.

This story is a long lead-in to another post. How do we avoid going rad Trad when the temptations to do so can sometimes be overwhelming? How do we prevent righteous anger at genuine problems in the Church from eating away at our souls like dropped acid and turning us into bitter, disaffected souls isolated from the mainstream of Catholic life? I don’t have the cure, or even an inoculation, to radical Traditionalism, but only some suggestions that may help. Those suggestions will be the focus of an upcoming post.

A reader writes:

Is there any rule about having to actually attend the a mass that you have said for someone?  Does attending somehow increase the grace that the person receives from the mass?

There is no rule that you have to attend a Mass that is being said for a special intention of yours. This is clear from the fact that people often make offerings to religious orders in distant locations to say Masses for their intentions. It is also clear from the Church’s legislation regarding Mass offerings

ONLINE HERE.

As you can see, these canons do not make any provisions regarding what the laity of give Mass offerings must do. The burden is all on the priest to make sure that the Mass is celebrated in a timely manner. The faithful are not bound to do anything after they have made the offering. In fact, the Code provides that:

Can.  954

If in certain churches or oratories more Masses are asked to be celebrated than can be celebrated there, it is permitted for them to be celebrated elsewhere unless the donors have expressly indicated a contrary intention.

This means that if your church is getting too many requests for Masses that your priest can e-mail his priest buddy up in Alaska and ask him to celebrate Mass for your intention–unless you indicated otherwise (he’ll also need to PayPal your the Mass offering to his priest buddy in this case; see can. 955).

The Code thus does not envision people having an obligation to attend the Masses celebrated for their intentions.

It may be customary in some places–particular in parish settings–for folks to show up at the Masses being celebrated for their intentions, but this is not required or suggested by the Church’s law.

As to the grace that would be given to a person for whom you are having Mass said, your attendance or non-attendance has no bearing on the intrinsic efficacy of the Mass. The person will receive whatever grace God wants them to have on the basis of having Mass said for them.

That being said, if you do attend then it can show an extra level of concern on your part (you went out of your way to personally unite yourself with the prayers of this Mass for this person) and that can serve as a kind of "extra prayer" that you are "saying" by your actions for your friend.

A reader writes:

My wife is Episcopalian.  I am Catholic.  Recently, she was attending Mass, sitting up in the choir loft with our 2 1/2 year old son, while I was the cantor.  At communion, she normally stays up in the choir loft at the back of the church (my father sings in the choir, so she gets privileges to sit off to the side/back), but one of the choir members normally carries our son down to Communion- mainly just to give him a ride.

So, this most recent time our son went with his usual ride, and I think another choir member, or possibly the choir director (who is pretty Orthodox)- not sure which it was, said she should go down to get a blessing.  As you probably know, at Episcopal/Lutheran/probably other churches you can cross your arms on your chest to receive a blessing if you don’t want to receive communion.

So, she went down, and did that, and the pastor basically looked at her and said "We don’t do that".  She handled it gracefully, but my questions are as follows:

1) I thought blessings could be given in such a case.  Is this wrong?  I thought I’d read at one point had indicated this was possible.

The giving of blessings during Communion time is a sticky subject. There are several principles to keep in mind:

• Since giving a blessing is not the same thing as giving Communion, this represents an interruption of the distribution of Communion.
• It is not provided for in the liturgical books, and canon and liturgical law prohibit introducing new elements into the liturgy.
• That being said, a priest is empowered to interrupt the liturgy for an adequate cause. For example, if a plane flies over during a prayer or his homily, he can pause for a moment until the plane is past.
• It strikes me as reasonable–and it’s certainly within the realm of legitimate liturgical opinion to hold that it is reasonable–for a priest to pause the distribution of Communion in order to administer a blessing if the alternative is sending someone away disappointed and possibly angry and disaffected.
• That being said, I would not be encouraging people to go up for such a blessing since it is not provided for in the liturgical books–yet. (See below on this.)
• What I have said applies to priests and deacons. It does not necessarily apply to laity who are giving Communion and who are empowered to give blessings in many fewer circumstances than members of the clergy.

Having said that, I suspect that the giving of blessings during Communion time is may receive authorization at some point.

At the recent Synod of Bishops meeting on the Eucharist, the bishops talked about this practice as a way of giving people (including non-Catholics) a way to participate so that they don’t feel pressure to receive Communion if they aren’t able to receive it. We know that because the topic showd up in the Instrumentum laboris for the Synod, which stated:

Some responses [by bishops to a questionnaire sent out to prepare the groundwork for the Synod] mention that priests, while distributing Holy Communion, give a blessing to children or catechumens—both duly pointed out—who approach the altar and have not made their First Communion. In some Churches, a blessing is imparted to non-Catholics who approach the altar at Communion time. In this regard, some responses from Asia suggest finding some gesture at Communion time towards non-Christians to make them feel more a part of the liturgical community.

It is possible that Pope Benedict will take up the subject in his Post-Synodal Exhortation, which should be released within a year or so. If he does take it up (and I’m not saying that he will) then my guess is that he will approve the practice for precisely the reasons that the bishops’ responses spoke positively of it–that it will relieve social pressure to receive Communion for those who are not able to receive, thus resulting in fewer sacrilegious receptions of Communion (something that the synod fathers were very concerned about).

It is also possible, giving how widespread this practice is, that the Congregation for Divine Worship may weigh in on it. If that happens, it could either approve or disapprove of it.

All this is just speculation, though. The issue at hand is what does liturgical law provide now (covered in the bullet points above).

Since this practice does not have current authorization, I’d try to be understanding of your priest. He’s trying to do what he think is right, even if his application on the law of this point may have not taken account of the idea that it is reasonable to pause the distribution of Communion for a just cause.

2) He also does not bless the smaller children, which I have seen done other places.  What is the common (or alternatively, the advisable) practice regarding that?

The same considerations apply. If you have a child being brought up for a blessing and one is denied then either the parents or the parents and the child may go away disappointed, angry, and disaffected, which strike me as legitimate reasons to pause to give a blessing.

3) If a blessing is allowed and/or proper/encouraged, what would you recommend as supporting evidence to the pastor?

Since this practice is not provided for in liturgical law, there isn’t really any documentation on it, but feel free to show him this blog post as a liturgical law opinion.

A reader writes:

I was at Mass for Ash Wednesday and the Gentleman sitting next to me was chewing gum throughout the WHOLE Mass.  I was getting so perturbed that I thought to myself that I should say something to him.  So just before we were to receive Communion I asked if he was going to receive Holy Communion himself.  He answered that he was, and then I gently asked him if he could remove the gum from his mouth before receiving Our Lord.  His faced changed to a bit of a frown and not another word was spoken.  I do not know if he took out the gum or not, but I was wondering if I was right to ask him to remove it before receiving the Sacrament?

This kind of thing is a judgment call, so I can’t say that you were either right or wrong. You just have to take your best guess in such situations and do what seems right.

For a person who knows better than to have gum in his mouth when receiving Communion the request not to have it there comes across rather like the question, "Could you please not be an idiot, okay?"–and that’s going to generate a frown.

On the other hand, some people are idiots, and steps need to be taken to warn them away from profaning Our Lord in the Eucharist in this manner. They may frown at the request, too, but it needs to be put to them in some fashion.

Without being there to see the guy–and without being inside his head to know whether he was planning to be chewing gum while receiving Communion–I couldn’t say whether he needed the query put to him or not.

So don’t beat yourself up about it. You did the best you could at the time, so rest in that.

If nothing else, you gave him a clue about the kind of signals he’s throwing off at Mass and the questions he’s causing to arise in others’ heads.

Incidentally, for those who may be wondering, gum does not violate the Eucharistic fast, because GUM IS NOT FOOD. Gum is one of those non-food things like mouthwash, toothpaste, medicine, throat losenges, barium solutions, and breathmints that you put in your mouth (and may even swallow) for reasons other than wanting to provide nourishment to your body. It therefore is not food and does not break the fast.

Just don’t leave it on your bedpost overnight.

20

Cardinal Arinze, the head of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments as given an interview in which he addresses the liturgical directives that were recently issued to the Neocatechumenal Way.

The Cardinal presents the matter in a very kind, face-saving way, but he is clear on the points (which had been disputed by some Neocatechumenal spokesmen) that these directives are not a complete vindication of the NW’s liturgical practice and that the directives ARE to be followed and are not just a working document that needs further approval in order to go into force.

EXCERPT:

Q: How did this letter [that conveyed the directives] come about?

Cardinal Arinze: It stemmed from the results of this congregation’s examination of the way in which the Neocatechumenal Way has celebrated holy Mass for many years, as, following the approval of the statutes by the Pontifical Council for the Laity — for a five-year period — the rest of the Vatican dicasteries had to effect the approvals in their domain. Our congregation’s domain is the liturgy.

To carry out this examination, we created a mixed commission of persons named by the Neocatechumenal Way and by our congregation. In the discussions, many practices emerged which they carry out during the Mass. They were examined and it was seen that many of them were not done according to the approved books.

This is the background. Everything has been examined in many sessions by the mixed commission for a period of two years or more. And a discussion also took place among seven cardinals of the Roman Curia at the request of the Holy Father, who examined everything. Therefore, this letter is the conclusion of this whole process.

GET THE STORY.

A reader writes:

I recall reading once that one could offer the reception of Holy Communion for the benefit of someone else.

Can you clarify this? I have been offering the reception as of late for a priest who was badly injured in a car wreck. (He was in a coma, but now he is out of the coma and continues to recover.)

Is it acceptable to offer the reception of the Lord for the intentions of someone else? I would hate to think I was doing something sacreligious.

This is not something that is provided for in the Church’s official documents, but it seems to be something that is part of folk Catholicism, at least here in America (perhaps elsewhere as well).

Understood in one sense, this would be problematic, but understood in another sense, it is not.

If someone had the idea that they were transferring some or all of the graces that they would otherwise receive to someone else–i.e., serving as that person’s proxy–then this would be a false understanding and the reception of Communion would be done in a superstitious manner that misunderstands what happens in Communion.

God’s grace is not something that we can control and manipulate in this manner. If he gives us grace via a sacrament then we receive that grace. We can’t direct it to somebody else.

What we can do, and this is what leads to the second and non-problematic understanding, is ask God to bless somebody else. In fact, we do that all the time through intercessory prayer.

The question would be why we would want to do so at Communion time. Well, for a start, it is the most intimate way that we encounter God liturgically. By asking God to bless someone else at this particular moment is to underscore how important the request is to us. It’s one thing to ask God for a favor when you’re laying at home in bed. It’s another thing to ask God for a favor when you are in church and are receiving him in holy Communion.

We also please God when we receive Communion worthily, and this also gives us a basis for asking God for a favor. We can say to him, "Lord, if I have pleased you by receiving you in Communion, please bless my friend."

Further, this is a place in which God is giving us his grace, and we can ask–if we choose–that he share with someone else part of the blessings that he is bestowing. But we can’t ask that he give them all to someone else, because that would contravene God’s known will, which is that we receive is grace when we receive Communion worthily.

If offering Communion for the sake of someone else is understood in these latter senses then it is not theologically problematic.

Indeed, we can point to the custom of saying Mass for particular intentions as a parallel (e.g., "This Mass will be said for the intentions of the Jones family"). The fixed prayers of the Mass are not changed to include that intention, but the priest is asking God to fulfill a particular intention or set of intentions in association with the Mass. The kind of considerations outlined above would also undergird the concept of Mass intentions: We’re asking God to bless someone else, without the idea that those assisting at the Mass will be deprived of grace.

It is ultimately the priest, though, who controls what intention a Mass is said for. We layfolks don’t. What we do is worship and receive Communion, and the custom of offering our Communion for certain intentions parallels the priest’s offering of the whole Mass for certain intentions.

Note that you don’t have to run through all this theology in your head or run through detailed verbal requests when you do this. Having understood all this, you can simply say to God, "Lord, I want to offer my Communion for this intention." You don’t even have to use words when you do that, for God knows what your intentions are even when they aren’t expressed in words.

Hope this helps!

Down yonder, Mark Brumley of Ignatius Press writes in part:

The second edition of the RSV is an Ignatius Press exclusive. It is
the *only* English language translation of the Bible updated
specifically to correspond to Liturgiam Authenticam. Some of the
"tweaking" to which I refer above is to bring the RSV into line with
Liturgiam Authenticam.

Ignatius Press is also publishing a new English lectionary based on
the RSV, 2nd Catholic edition. This lectionary may not, at present, be
used in the Liturgy in the U.S., although it is approved for use in the
Antilles and the Holy Father was presented with a copy in December.
Whether the USCCB will permit it to be used remains to be seen, but
other episcopal conferences of English-speaking Catholics may. We’ll
see.

Sweet!

Mark told me about this project a good bit ago, but I didn’t know that it had come to fruition. Let’s pray that the Ignatius lectionary gets approved for use in the U.S. so that we (or some of us) can get some relief from the tin-eared translations found in the current lectionary.