In Ohio, public worship resumes for Catholics this weekend, and I have a confession to make: I haven’t missed receiving the Eucharist once since the pandemic began. I feel guilty even typing that, since so many folks have had to settle for “spiritual communion” during these long weeks and months of quarantine. A woman told me recently that not being able to receive Jesus has felt like a piece of her heart is missing. A liturgy scholar I know said receiving communion again recently, for the first time in months, was like celebrating his first communion all over again. I bet it was even better.
I am simply lucky – that’s why I’ve been at the Eucharistic table in a physical way during this time. I am lucky our Church decided to live-stream our Mass, when so many neighboring parishes simply – and with profound regret – closed their doors. I am lucky to have musical gifts that benefit our live-streamed Mass. I am lucky to have had parents who taught me to recognize my gifts as God-given, and return them to God, in service of the Church, whenever possible. I am lucky that my gifts are found useful by my parish community. I am lucky to be under 65 with no underlying health issues. I am lucky to have stayed well.
But I do not feel lucky when I look down from the choir loft at a nearly-empty Church, at an absent assembly. I just feel lonely. And liturgical loneliness is a difficult thing.
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