We receive Communion with a spoon because it’s the safest, most reverent way to give people both the Body and Blood of Christ together without risk of spillage or desecration.
The practice isn’t ancient, it developed gradually in the Byzantine Church around the ninth to eleventh centuries. Before that, Christians received the consecrated Bread in their hands or directly into their mouths, then drank from the chalice. But as the Church grew and more people communed, practical problems emerged. Particles of the consecrated Bread were dropped. People sometimes took the Bread home rather than consuming it immediately. When priests brought Communion to the sick or to hermits living in the wilderness, transporting the chalice was difficult.
So the Church adapted. Priests began placing a small piece of the consecrated Bread into the chalice, letting it absorb the consecrated Wine, then using a spoon to deliver both together directly into each person’s mouth. Problem solved. Nothing gets dropped, nothing gets mishandled, and the priest can move through a line of communicants efficiently.
Here’s what matters theologically: you’re still receiving both the Body and the Blood. The spoon doesn’t change that reality. When the priest places that wine-soaked particle of Bread into your mouth, you’re receiving the whole Christ, Body, Blood, soul, and divinity. The method of delivery is just logistics. The sacramental reality remains unchanged.
If you grew up Baptist or in a non-denominational church, this probably looks strange at first. You’re used to little plastic cups or passing a common cup down the pew. If you’re from a Catholic background, you remember receiving the wafer on your tongue or in your hand, maybe sipping from the chalice on special occasions. The Orthodox spoon feels foreign until you understand what’s happening.
Stand in line. When you reach the chalice, give your baptismal name (not your nickname, the priest needs to know he’s communing “the servant of God John,” not “Johnny”). Tilt your head back. Open your mouth. The priest will say your name and place the spoon in your mouth without touching your lips if you position yourself correctly. Swallow immediately. Don’t chew. Accept the cloth offered to wipe your mouth, then step aside to make room for the next person.
The same spoon serves everyone. That bothers some people, especially if they’re germophobic or if we’re in the middle of flu season. I get it. But the Church’s experience over centuries shows that the common spoon hasn’t been a vector for disease transmission. Priests are careful. Most don’t let the spoon touch your lips. Between Liturgies, the spoon is washed and sanitized. During the COVID pandemic, some bishops authorized temporary measures, multiple spoons, extra sanitizing, even allowing individual spoons in extreme cases for private Communion outside the Liturgy. But the norm remains one spoon for the gathered community.
Why one spoon? Because we’re one Body. We share one cup, one Bread, one Lord. Using the same spoon reinforces that unity. We’re not individuals grabbing our private portions. We’re members of Christ’s Body, fed from the same source.
Fr. Alexander Schmemann wrote about how the Eucharist makes the Church. We don’t just receive Communion as isolated souls seeking personal grace. We become the Church when we gather around the altar and share the one Bread and the one Cup. The common spoon is a small but real expression of that reality.
If you’re preparing to be received into the Church, practice tilting your head back at home. Sounds silly, but it helps. The first time you approach the chalice, you’ll be nervous enough without worrying about technique. And don’t stress if the spoon does touch your lip, it happens. The priest won’t be scandalized.
One more thing: after you commune, don’t go straight back to your spot and zone out. The prayers of thanksgiving are part of receiving Communion. Stay attentive. Let the reality of what just happened sink in. You’ve received the Medicine of Immortality, the Bread of Heaven, the Cup of Life. That’s not rhetoric. We mean it literally.
When you visit St. Michael for the first time and see that golden spoon, you’ll know what’s happening. You’re watching the Church do what she’s done for centuries, feed her children with the Body and Blood of Christ, carefully and reverently, in a way that honors both the holiness of the Gift and the practical needs of the people.
