No Tongue Can Speak

Sacramental Confession is a marvelous gift! I felt lightened and joyful, happy and free. I like the laying on of hands: it emphasizes the fact that the Spirit works through people. It was a little strange to not have a penance but, then again, I think that might more accurately capture the truth that the Sacrament actually forgives you, and there’s nothing more you need to do.

It was a beautiful day: sunny, crisp and new. It is difficult for me to express what I feel. I struggle to keep it hidden, put the smile inside my heart and hold it there. I think I succeed.

So, someone I know once told me that if I tried to receive Eucharist anywhere God would strike me down because I am a sinful person, continuing in sin – the point being that I would not be capable of making a valid act of contrition and would thereby be continuing in a state of mortal sin.

This is one of the reasons I’ve been so scared of the Blessed Sacrament, both Anglican and Roman Catholic. Which is why I felt like I was going to have a panic attack today. The fact that I had just come back from confession was, I think, the only reason that I had the courage to attempt it. Of course, I know that this crushing fear is a result of demonic oppression, which understanding also helps somewhat.

Shoving panic to the side, I was finally able to receive! Regardless of how simple this may have appeared, this is a huge deal for me. After I was certain God would not strike me down in anger at having polluted His Table, I felt relieved, overfilled, opened up, joyful and at peace. Wow.

I tried to brush this aside so that no one would know what I was feeling, how I felt…changed. Renewed. More myself. It’s one thing to write about this in a blog that (practically) no one reads, and it’s another to let it live on my face where it can be seen – where I can’t possibly be distanced from it, not even a little bit. Though, of course, to openly show my emotions so others could experience them with me would probably be excellent, since the effect on me would be even more amplified.

I had thought about waiting until the Easter Vigil to receive, since that would be a kind-of inhabiting of the liturgy as a living testimony to what it all means, but (even though I was really scared) I wanted it to be today. The Feast of Annunciation: the moment the world hears the promise, the moment Mary learns of the awesome gift she will be given, of the responsibility it will place on her, and of its sometimes incredible burden. This is precisely what it is to receive Eucharist, because our sacramental lives are all these things, the truth of which is most exemplified in the gift of Jesus Himself.

Of course, all this fancy reflection is beside the point, since that’s not why I made my decision – I just like fitting my decisions into my symbiotic relationship with liturgy. The truth is, I wanted to do it now because I wanted to do it here, with this community and these people. There has never been, nor I suspect will there ever be, a congregation or community that has been so important to me, or that has so deeply shaped and supported such a difficult journey, and so impacted my life. This community of worship has been the only constant presence in my life as I explored so painfully my faith and my desires, as I travelled without anchor, tossed here and there on the violent sea. These people, my friends, have been the center of my life, and I think this is the only thing that allowed me to keep going, to keep exploring, even when I felt like I was going through hell and the world was shattering around me. This congregation has kept me alive. And I wanted it to be here so that, even though in so small and invisible a way, I could try to say that symbolically.

There is no way I can ever express what this has meant to me and felt like to me that would adequately convey the depth and breadth and width of how I experience this moment or this place. Because words cannot enclose the feeling of an overfull heart.