On Receiving the Eucharist After a Lengthy Lockdown

Guest post by Nicholas Lee.

I had no emotions after receiving the Eucharist for the first time in months. And maybe that’s the way it’s meant to be.

With the gradual reopening of our churches as Singapore exits the “Circuit Breaker” which was imposed because of the pandemic, many of us have been eagerly looking forward to the day when we would finally be able to receive Jesus in the Eucharist. That day came for many of us last weekend, or at least it did for me.

I was just as excited about it as most of my fellow brothers and sisters. I must admit that I’ve been longing to receive the sacraments ever since the suspension of Masses was imposed in February.

Sure, before the Circuit Breaker was imposed, I managed to make a good Confession on a monthly basis with my Spiritual Director, and sure, I was lucky enough to be able to attend a couple of so-called “private” Masses before the Circuit Breaker was imposed in April. I say so-called because there really is no such thing as a private liturgy and really, we need to be careful when we call our liturgies private because it can undermine the essence of the faith that we profess.

But yes, after having not received the sacraments for more than three months, I was eager to do so again. In fact, I had told many friends that I was quite sick and tired of praying the prayer of spiritual communion. I could foresee how emotional I’d be after receiving the Eucharist. But alas, there were no emotions on Sunday. There were no tears flowing from my eyes, despite seeing a good number of people crying after receiving the Eucharist. Nothing.

I could not understand it, as I walked back to my pew after receiving Holy Communion. Didn’t I believe in the true presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist? Didn’t I promise myself never to take the sacraments for granted again? Was the disposition of my heart not in the right place? Could it be that maybe I didn’t miss the Eucharist as much as I thought I did? These were the questions ringing in my head as I left St. Ignatius’ Church, after helping to compile the list of attendees for the 4.30pm Mass.

Before heading home, I decided to stop by the convenience store at Farrer Market to buy some snacks. As I left, I noticed an old lady bent at the waist, delving in the dustbins for aluminum cans. She was probably doing so because she needed to do something to pay for her meals. It’s no secret that there are many people in Singapore who struggle to make ends meet.

I was moved with pity for that old lady (as I’m sure most of us are when we see such people), but I did not know what to do. It’s easy to buy tissue packets from such people if they were selling any, but with the elderly lady bent at the waist, trying to collect recyclables to sell so as to pay for her meals, it was pretty awkward to go up to her and offer to buy her a meal, without offending her.

I was lost for what to do, and my Grab car had arrived. So I opened my wallet, and notice that I had a 10-dollar note inside, which I did not even realize was there (as we are moving towards a cashless society where everything is electronic). I stuffed the note into the old lady’s hand, and walked away. I got into the car and left.

I hope that nobody reading this would see this as an attempt to glorify myself for doing something nice. I assure you, dear reader, that it is not. After all, anybody could have done it, and frankly I think I should have given more. The most she could do with the 10 dollars was perhaps to pay for her lunch and dinner for one day.

But as I arrived home to pray Vespers with my community, it dawned on me that perhaps this was the point of the Eucharist. As a catechist, and someone who journeys with youth in the parish, I always tell them that faith is not a feeling. In a way, by going to Mass with the expectation that I would experience an emotional high from receiving the Eucharist for the first time in what seemed like forever, I missed the point of it all.

The Eucharist is not about us. It is about becoming what we receive; bread broken for others, wine poured out for others. I know that it is because of the Eucharist that I was able to do what I did.

Normally, I’d just feel sorry for such people, but I’d move away quietly. I don’t know if I’ll ever see that old lady again, and I seriously doubt she’d read this blog, but that does not matter at all.

What matters is that she is the Jesus who is hungry, the Jesus who is thirsty. And as Eucharistic people, we should do our part to reach out to those in need. We should invite the Lord to use our lives as bread that is broken.

I was extremely hesitant about posting this story, for fear that it should turn into a self-glorifying entry. However, nothing else came to mind, and I suppose perhaps this is God’s way of helping me to share what He has done for me, what the Eucharist has done for me.

The Eucharist is not about us or our emotions, nor is it about spending time in private prayer. Rather, it demands that we become what we receive; bread broken for others, wine poured out for others. May we never forget this.

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Originally published at The Barefoot Journey Home.
Photo: Christian Liebel, Unsplash / PD-US