I'm a bit of a novice at attending the Greek-Catholic Liturgy, but I find it a profoundly moving and indeed draining experience. As yet I have not received the Eucharist. I am not yet ready for that. Indeed receiving the "antidoron" after the Liturgy has such incredible significance that approaching Communion seems beyond me. For those who don't know; several loaves of leavened bread are baked, one is chosen to be the Lamb, the rest remain on the altar, are blessed and returned to the congregation in chunks. Some take it home to break the night fast with, the rest is consumed there and then at the end of the Liturgy. The precept is to attend, not to receive each and every Sunday.
Chewing the antidoron I'm meditating about service in the country where I will be living; my service to the people there and God's acceptance of that service and His working of that relationship within me. I will receive Him one day, beyond the the profound spiritual communion that is already taking place during the rite, I just don't know when. The antidoron seems to be a blessing on the future. When the future life becomes the present, then it makes more sense to Communicate.
I was at the Greek-Catholic rite yesterday, before the anniversary of the night when one of my "holy helpers", King Henry VI was murdered and the day before the feast of my Patron, St Rita. 22nd May has a significance for me; it is about beginnings and ends and death and stuff though it isn't morose or dark in the slightest.
This year, there is simply an emptiness, a "sated" emptiness. I do not need to know anything. I'm not searching for anything. I have a sated exhaustion that things have indeed run their course. A friend said that I've been granted an "honourable discharge" from my fight (whatever it is/was). However, I'm not sure it is that simple. Every prayer is a battle, the fighting never stops. I think I've just moved into a zone where my response is purely reflexive, I'm not having to think about what I'm doing, and I can't see the muck and bullets.
I deliberately visited the shrines of both King Henry VI and St Rita last year (imploring their help because things seem so impossibly unreal and daft and plain wrong) and they are with me, especially today and I must attribute my health to them, I've left my vocation for them to work out. I used to know what it is with certainty, but now I no longer know what it is.... but like St Rita, carried over the convent walls by her patron saints to fulfill her vocation, this is entirely in the hands of my patrons, whatever it is.
Now off to the Novus Ordo at the nearest church on my Patronal Feast ..... and receiving the Eucharist will not seem inappropriate.....