Blessed Sacrament

The Pelican: An Ancient Symbol of Christ’s Eucharistic Love

/ chicoinematt

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While the Lamb of God and the Lion of Judah are the most obvious and biblically clear animal symbols for Jesus Christ, the pelican is an under-rated symbol that is rich in meaning and beauty. There are many birds used in Christian history to represent God: like the dove for the Holy Spirit and even the Mother Hen as an analogy to speak of Christ’s protection of his people in Luke 13:31-35.

Honestly, I had never heard about the pelican as a symbol of Jesus Christ until a few years ago. Since discovering this powerful symbol I have started to notice it more and more in various parishes where I have attended Mass over the years. I have seen etchings of this majestic bird on pillars at the cathedral in my city and have seen the pelican adorned on altars in a variety of ways.

A Symbol Hidden in Plain Sight

I traveled to Italy during college and visited both Assisi and Rome. I wish I had known about the pelican symbol back then because I would have seen some beautiful portrayals of this symbol of Christ in those awesome churches. Before learning about its spiritual significance, the only time I really thought about pelicans was when looking up NBA scores and seeing the New Orleans Pelicans! It’s amazing how something can transform from mundane to meaningful once you understand its deeper significance.

Today, I wear a pelican brown scapular (I alternate it with my traditional style brown scapular every other day), and I received an awesome pelican t-shirt from Archangel Outfitters to celebrate the Feast of Corpus Christi. These small reminders help keep this powerful symbol of Christ’s sacrifice close to my heart.

This is one of the coolest shirts I own. I wear it almost weekly. It’s perfect for the summertime!

An Ancient Legend Transformed

The image of the mother pelican feeding her baby pelicans is rooted in several ancient Roman legends that precede Christianity. One version is that in time of famine, the mother pelican wounded herself, striking her breast with her beak to feed her young with her blood. Another version was that the mother fed her dying young with her blood to revive them from death, but in turn lost her own life.

Given these traditions, one can easily understand how early Christians adapted it to symbolize our Lord, Jesus Christ. The pelican symbolizes Jesus our Redeemer who gave His life for our redemption and feeds us with His Body and Blood in the Eucharist. We were dead to sin and have found new life through the sacrifice of Christ.

The Biblical Connection

While the pelican doesn’t appear directly in Scripture as a symbol for Christ, Jesus himself uses bird imagery to describe his protective love. In Luke 13:31-35, after Pharisees warn him about Herod’s death threats, Jesus laments over Jerusalem:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, yet you were not willing.”

This tender image of a mother bird gathering her young under wings for protection parallels the sacrificial nature of the pelican legend. Both emphasize Christ’s desire to protect, nourish, and save his people, even at great personal cost.

As Jesus told his disciples (and us), “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). Saint Cyril of Alexandria echoed this when he wrote, “Christ came into this world in human flesh not to be served, but, as he himself said, to serve and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

The Physiologus and Medieval Symbolism

This tradition and others is found in the Physiologus, an early Christian work which appeared in the second century in Alexandria, Egypt. Written by an anonymous author, this text recorded legends of animals and gave each an allegorical interpretation.

The legend of the pelican is described: “The little pelicans strike their parents, and the parents, striking back, kill them. But on the third day the mother pelican strikes and opens her side and pours blood over her dead young. In this way they are revivified and made well. So Our Lord Jesus Christ says also through the prophet Isaiah: I have brought up children and exalted them, but they have despised me (Is 1:2). We struck God by serving the creature rather than the Creator. Therefore, He deigned to ascend the cross, and when His side was pierced, blood and water gushed forth unto our salvation and eternal life.”

This work was noted by numerous authors and was popular in the Middle Ages as a source for the symbols used in stone carvings and other artwork of that period.

The Pelican in Literature

The pelican symbol appears frequently in Renaissance literature. In 1312, Dante wrote in his “Paridiso” of Christ as “our Pelican who shed His blood in order to give eternal life to the children of men.” In 1606, John Lyly wrote in his “Euphues” of the “pelicane who stricketh blood out of its owne bodye to do others good.” Even Shakespeare referenced this symbolism in Hamlet: “to his good friend thus wide, I’ll open my arms and, like the kind, life-rendering pelican repast them with my blood.” In modern English this would translate as: “I’ll open my arms wide to his true friends, and like a mother pelican with her brood, I’ll even give my blood for them.”

Jesus cares for us like the mother pelican cares for her young.

The Eucharistic Connection

The pelican has been part of our liturgical tradition for centuries. In his great Eucharistic hymn “Adoro te devote,” St. Thomas Aquinas directly addresses Christ as the “pie pelicane, Jesu Domine” (the pious pelican, Lord Jesus), asking him to “wash my filthiness and clean me with your blood.”

This Eucharistic connection is why we often see the pelican image on tabernacles, altar frontals, and other church furnishings. The image powerfully reminds us of Christ’s Real Presence in the Eucharist, where He continues to feed us with His Body and Blood.

As Saint Pio of Pietrelcina said, “It would be easier for the world to survive without the sun than to do without Holy Mass.” The Eucharist is not merely a symbol but the very life of Christ given to sustain us spiritually, just as the pelican in the legend sustains her young with her own blood.

Saint John Paul II reminded us that “Jesus waits for us in this sacrament of love.” The image of the pelican helps us visualize this profound truth—Christ giving Himself completely for our salvation and nourishment.

Finding the Pelican in Our Churches

Next time you’re in a church, especially an older one with traditional furnishings, look around carefully. You might spot a pelican carved on an altar, etched in a stained glass window, or painted on a tabernacle door. These images aren’t random decorations but powerful reminders of Christ’s sacrificial love.

In Catholic tradition, the pelican image on a tabernacle door symbolizes the “body of Christ” within. But more commonly, the pelican symbol is found at the top of the cross in late-medieval and Renaissance Crucifixion images, reinforcing the connection between Christ’s sacrifice on the cross and the nourishment we receive in the Eucharist.

The pelican serves as a beautiful reminder that Christ not only died for us but continues to feed us with His very life. As we receive the Eucharist, we can meditate on this ancient symbol and be thankful for the Lord who, like the pelican of legend, gives His very life to sustain His children.

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The Power of the Eucharist: Together and in Silence

/ chicoinematt

Processing with the Lord

The sun beat down on the street. I walked alongside hundreds of others, following the golden monstrance that caught the light in brilliant flashes. A canopy of white silk moved ahead of us, sheltering the Blessed Sacrament.

Incense rose in visible waves, mingling with the summer air. The priest’s vestments gleamed white and gold. Children scattered flower petals on the pavement. An elderly man beside me sang the Pange Lingua with a voice that trembled but did not waver.

The procession stretched for blocks. People watched from windows and sidewalks. Some knelt as we passed. Others stared, confused. A few snapped photos with their phones.

“What’s happening?” a woman asked her companion.

“Some kind of Catholic thing,” he replied, watching us wind through the streets.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. My knees ached from the concrete.

“The Eucharist is not merely symbolic, but a profound reality where we encounter Jesus Himself,” the priest had said before we began. “Today, we process with Him through our streets as a public testimony of our faith.”

The bells rang out, marking our progress through the neighborhood. Someone handed me a Holy card. The procession paused at a makeshift altar on the Church steps. People knelt on the hard pavement.

A Public Witness

I closed my eyes in the bright sunlight.

“We aren’t just walking,” a young mother had told her confused child. “We’re following Jesus.”

The child had nodded solemnly, clutching a small paper banner.

Three days later, I sat alone in the parish adoration chapel. The same monstrance stood on the altar, but without the canopy, without the crowd.

The wooden kneeler creaked under my weight. My breath sounded loud in the silence. A clock ticked somewhere behind me. The single candle flame didn’t waver.

An air conditioner hummed briefly, then quieted. For twenty minutes, nothing moved except the slight rise and fall of my chest.

I checked my watch.

St. Mother Teresa once said, “When you look at the crucifix, you understand how much Jesus loved you then. When you look at the Sacred Host, you understand how much Jesus loves you now.”

Now. Present tense.

My mind wandered to Sunday’s grocery list. I pulled it back.

The silence grew heavier. More substantial. The golden rays of the monstrance caught the light once, then didn’t again. My knees hurt in a different way than they had during the procession.

The Chapel’s Stillness

Photo courtesy of Damian Chlanda. See more of his photography at coffeewithdamian.com

I shifted on the kneeler.

During Sunday’s procession, the priest had proclaimed, “Christ goes out to meet His people!” His voice had carried over the crowd, amplified by speakers. Here, in the chapel, no voice spoke. The same Christ waited, but in silence.

Saint Alphonsus Liguori wrote, “Of all devotions, that of adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the greatest after the sacraments, the one dearest to God and the one most helpful to us.”

My breathing slowed.

During the procession, we had moved through space, covering blocks of the city. Here, in adoration, I moved through something else. Not faster or slower—different.

The digital clock on the wall blinked silently: 3:47 PM.

“Know that I am with you always, until the end of the age,” Christ had promised. In the procession, we had demonstrated this truth publicly. Here, in this empty chapel, I experienced it privately.

I closed my eyes, then opened them.

The Host remained unchanged, white against gold. Minutes stretched. A car passed outside, then nothing.

Pope Benedict XVI once emphasized, “In the Eucharist, Christ is always coming to meet us.” During Sunday’s procession, we had walked with Him through the streets. Here, in adoration, He walked through the landscape of my thoughts.

Two Encounters, One Presence

Photo courtesy of Damian Chlanda.

The chair beneath me felt hard after forty minutes.

In the procession, we had been many voices, many steps, moving as one body. Here, I was one voice, silent. One body, still.

I bowed my head.

The same Christ was present in both spaces—under the silken canopy surrounded by hundreds, and here, in an empty chapel on a Wednesday afternoon. The miracle didn’t change. Only the context.

I looked up at the monstrance.

“It is you who have come to me,” a line from St. Elizabeth of the Trinity surfaced in my memory. “I didn’t go looking for you.”

The chapel door opened. A woman entered quietly, genuflected, and took a seat in the back row.

During the procession, our public witness had been powerful—Catholics united, moving through the secular world with our Eucharistic Lord. Here, two strangers sat in silence, united by the same Presence.

I stood to leave.

The mystery remained intact. The same God who had processed through streets now waited in stillness. The same Jesus who had drawn crowds now drew individual hearts, one by one.

I genuflected before the monstrance.

In the procession, we had shown the world our Faith. In Adoration, our Faith showed us the world as it truly was—a place where God waits, where time changes, where silence speaks.

I opened the chapel door.

The woman remained kneeling, her head bowed. The candle flame flickered once, then steadied.

I stepped outside. The chapel door closed behind me with a soft click.

Additional Writings about Eucharistic Adoration

Eucharistic Adoration: He Waits for You in the Silence

7 Reasons You Should Go to Eucharistic Adoration

Reflections on the National Eucharistic Congress: Faith, Healing, and Revival

Thank you for sharing!

Eucharistic Adoration: He Waits for You in the Silence

/ chicoinematt / 1 Comment

The church door closed with a soft click. Empty pews stretched toward the altar. A single candle flickered near the monstrance, its flame steady. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, casting colored patterns that moved slowly across the floor. The air felt still.

An elderly woman sat in the third pew on the left, rosary beads sliding between weathered fingers. She didn’t look up.

The wooden kneeler creaked. Silence filled the space, not empty but full. The gold of the monstrance caught the light once, then didn’t again. A car passed outside, then nothing.

The clock on the wall ticked. The Host remained unchanged, white against gold. Minutes stretched. The elderly woman shifted slightly, then returned to stillness.

Somewhere, a heating system hummed briefly, then quieted. The colored light on the floor had moved an inch. The candle flame didn’t waver.

God Waits

Saint Alphonsus Liguori proclaimed, “Of all devotions, that of adoring Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the greatest after the sacraments, the one dearest to God and the one most helpful to us.”

Yet God doesn’t need our love—He wants it.

The Blessed Sacrament doesn’t demand attention with bright lights or loud sounds. It waits. The miracle sits in plain sight, ordinary and extraordinary at once. Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity behind the appearance of bread.

A Different Kind of Time

In Eucharistic Adoration, time changes. Not faster or slower—different.

St. Mother Teresa understood this: “When you look at the crucifix, you understand how much Jesus loved you then. When you look at the Sacred Host, you understand how much Jesus loves you now.”

Now. Present tense.

The elderly woman with the rosary knew this. Her weekly visit wasn’t obligation—it was appointment. Her same pew each Wednesday, surrounded by familiar silence, enveloped in His unchanging Presence.

What Happens in Adoration?

St. Clare of Assisi said simply: “Gaze upon him, consider him, contemplate him, as you desire to imitate him.”

Some call it spiritual tanning—basking in the light of the Son. You can’t help but be changed by it. Too much exposure and your sins become visible, uncomfortable. The longer you remain, the more grace accumulates.

The wooden pew feels hard after twenty minutes. The mind wanders. The silence grows deeper. And then, sometimes, a moment arrives that wasn’t there before.

The Invitation

The Church doesn’t merely suggest Adoration—it recognizes our need for it. As the Catechism states, “The Church and the world have great need of Eucharistic adoration. Jesus waits for us in this sacrament of love.”

He waits.

The church remains mostly empty on weekday afternoons. The Host doesn’t mind. The monstrance holds the miracle whether witnessed by hundreds or just an elderly woman with arthritic hands.

The invitation remains open.

Find fifteen minutes this week. Ask your parish office when Adoration hours are scheduled. Walk in. Sit down. Nothing spectacular may happen.

But the candle will flicker near the monstrance. Sunlight might cast colored patterns across the floor. The silence will be waiting.

And so will He.

Thank you for sharing!

Reflections on the National Eucharistic Congress: Faith, Healing, and Revival

/ chicoinematt

Last week, I had the incredible opportunity to attend the National Eucharistic Congress in Indianapolis. Over 50k Catholics were in attendance across the United States. Eucharistic Adoration, daily Mass and a line-up of speakers headed by Fr. Mike Schmitz and Bishop Robert Barron were the highlights (but to be honest the entire week was a highlight).

The experience was truly transformative, filled with moments of profound joy and palpable movements of the Holy Spirit. As I reflect on those days, I’d like to share some of the most impactful insights I gained.

The Joy of Christian Community

One of the first things that struck me was the overwhelming sense of joy that permeated the entire event. As I sat in the conference hall during supper, I couldn’t help but notice the many small groups of two or three people scattered throughout the room. In those moments, I felt certain that Jesus was present among them, fulfilling His promise: “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them” (Matthew 18:20).

A Powerful Encounter

While waiting in line for the Eucharistic Miracles exhibit (a popular attraction with over an hour and a half wait), I had a life-changing encounter. I met Emilio, a gentleman from California, whose story deeply moved me. Emilio shared how he had been involved in gang activity from a young age and had even taken a life at 22, resulting in a life sentence. Eventually, a combination of legal changes and Emilio’s profound spiritual transformation led to his release.

Emilio and I waiting in line to see the Eucharistic Miracles Exhibit.

His journey of repentance and renewal in prison led him to give his life to Jesus. Emilio’s wife, who accompanied him, emphasized that she felt the Eucharistic Congress was specifically for him. This reminded me that while we were blessed to attend, the Eucharistic Revival is for all baptized Catholics – we are all called to share the Gospel and live sacramentally.

The Power of Jesus’ Name

Another powerful realization came during Dr. Mary Healy’s talk on healing and prayer. The healing service she conducted with Fr. Mathias Thelen felt biblical in its intensity, reminiscent of Jesus’ own ministry. During this service, I experienced firsthand the power of prayer and the name of Jesus.

Jesus is Lord. 🍞🍷✝️🙏

Despite initial doubts about whether my relatively minor headache was worthy of divine intervention, I prayed, “Lord, help my unbelief” – echoing the father in Mark 9:24. To my amazement, as the service concluded, I realized my headache had disappeared. This experience reinforced the truth that Jesus has the power to heal us physically, mentally, and spiritually – just as He did in biblical times. Jesus is the Divine Physician and He desires to heal all our wounds.

The Importance of Repentance

A recurring theme throughout the Congress was the significance of repentance. According to Fr. Mike Schmitz, “If this is going to be a revival, if it’s going to be a real revival, here’s the reality. In the history of Christianity, you can never have a revival without repentance.”

To fully receive the graces available in the Sacrament of the Eucharist, we must approach it with hearts open to God’s mercy. But this mercy is not forced upon us. We have to repent of our sins. The Catechism of the Catholic Church puts it this way, “Jesus calls to conversion. This call is an essential part of the proclamation of the kingdom: ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel” (CCC 1427).

This emphasis on repentance serves as a powerful reminder of our continual need for God’s mercy and our call to ongoing conversion.

Go Forth and Preach the Gospel

The National Eucharistic Congress was a profound reminder of the living presence of Christ in our midst, particularly in the Eucharist. It reinforced the power of community, the importance of personal testimony, the reality of divine healing, and the necessity of repentance in our spiritual lives.

As we move forward in this Eucharistic Revival, may we all be renewed in our commitment to Christ, open to His healing power, and ready to share His love with the world. The revival is not just for those who attended the Congress – it’s for every baptized Catholic. We are all called to live out our faith in a sacramental way, drawing strength from the Eucharist and sharing the Good News with those around us. I will see you all in the Eucharist!

Share Your Eucharistic Encounter

These testimonials offer just a glimpse of the countless ways Jesus touched hearts during the Congress. If you attended the National Eucharistic Congress, I invite you to continue this chain of witness:

Take a moment to reflect on your experience. How did you encounter Jesus during the Congress? What moment stands out as particularly meaningful or transformative?

I encourage you to write a short paragraph (100-200 words) sharing your personal encounter with Jesus at the Congress. You might consider:

  1. A specific event or talk that moved you
  2. A moment of prayer or adoration that was especially powerful
  3. An unexpected encounter or conversation that touched your heart
  4. How the Congress has changed your perspective on the Eucharist
Thank you for sharing!

Embracing Corpus Christi: The Transformative Power of the Eucharist

/ chicoinematt

In a world marked by constant change, it is reassuring to find an unchanging source of love and nourishment. For Catholics, that source is the Holy Eucharist, the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. In this blog post, we will explore the significance of critically reading John 6 for Protestant conversions, delve into the profound beauty and power of the Eucharist, and discover the rich history behind Corpus Christi processions. We will also share a personal story that exemplifies the impact of this sacrament on the lives of believers.

Feast of Corpus Christ

The Bread of Life Discourse (John 6)

John 6 is vital to Corpus Christi, honoring Jesus’ real presence in the Eucharist. It’s the Gospel reading for Corpus Christi Mass, emphasizing its central role.

In John 6:53, Jesus says, “Unless you eat my flesh and drink my blood, you have no life.” These words challenge us to contemplate their deep meaning. By critically engaging, we recognize Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist, a foundational belief.

Understanding the historical context of John 6 further strengthens our appreciation for the Eucharist. Early Christians interpreted Jesus’ words literally and embraced the real presence of Christ in this sacrament. Exploring the writings of early Church Fathers, such as St. Ignatius of Antioch and St. Justin Martyr, offers insights into the consistent understanding of the Eucharist throughout history.

Eucharist Meme- John 6

Additionally, John 6 addresses the spiritual hunger that resonates with many individuals, including Protestants seeking a deeper encounter with Christ. The transformative power of the Eucharist is a source of nourishment for the soul, fulfilling our spiritual yearnings. Through this sacrament, we establish a unique connection with Jesus and experience the fullness of His presence.

As we celebrate Corpus Christi, the significance of John 6 resonates strongly. It invites us to critically reflect on the explicit language, historical context, and spiritual hunger addressed within this chapter. Through this contemplation, we have the opportunity to deepen our understanding of the Eucharist and embrace the Catholic belief in the real presence of Christ.

The Splendor and Power of the Eucharist

According to the Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 1374, “The mode of Christ’s presence under the Eucharistic species is unique. It raises the Eucharist above all the sacraments as ‘the perfection of the spiritual life and the end to which all the sacraments tend.’ In the most blessed sacrament of the Eucharist ‘the body and blood, together with the soul and divinity, of our Lord Jesus Christ and, therefore, the whole Christ is truly, really, and substantially contained.'” The Eucharist is not merely symbolic, but a profound reality where we encounter Jesus Himself.

Saint John Chrysostom beautifully captures the essence of the Eucharist when he says, “You do see Him. You do touch Him. You eat Him. He gives Himself to you, not only that you may see Him, but also to be your food and nourishment.”

Eucharist

The Eucharist is the most precious and powerful gift in the world. Christ’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament nourishes us throughout life. Pope Benedict XVI emphasized this truth in a 2006 Corpus Christi homily. He said, “In the procession we follow this sign and in this way we follow Christ himself. And we ask of him: Guide us on the paths of our history! Show the Church and her Pastors again and again the right path! Look at suffering humanity, cautiously seeking a way through so much doubt; look upon the physical and mental hunger that torments it! Give men and women bread for body and soul!”

Corpus Christi Processions

A Tradition of Faith and Devotion: Corpus Christi, meaning “Body of Christ” in Latin, is a celebration of the Eucharist that dates back to the 13th century. This feast was established to honor and adore the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. One of the most significant devotional practices associated with Corpus Christi is the procession.

Corpus Christi Procession

Corpus Christi processions involve the public display and veneration of the Blessed Sacrament. They are a visible expression of faith, as believers gather to witness the Eucharist being carried in solemn procession through the streets. This practice began in response to the theological controversies surrounding the Eucharist, serving as a powerful affirmation of Catholic doctrine.

Sharing My Personal Eucharistic Experiences

My family’s personal encounter with the Eucharist has been transformative. Our youngest son, at the age of three, demonstrated an understanding and reverence for the Mass. During the Eucharistic Prayer, he would joyfully exclaim, “I see [the] Body of Christ. I want to get more Body of Christ!” Through his innocent proclamation, we gained a deeper appreciation for the significance of the Eucharist and the faith of children as powerful teachers.

Meme about the Eucharist

This year, my family eagerly anticipates participating in the Corpus Christi procession. We will join fellow believers in embarking on a three-mile journey from Holy Spirit Church to Saint Lambert Parish. As we walk alongside others, united in faith and devotion, we will honor the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharist and proclaim our love for Him. In the words of Pope Francis on the Feast of Corpus Christi 2018, “The Eucharist is simple food, like bread, yet it is the only food that satisfies, for there is no greater love. There we encounter Jesus really; we share his life and we feel his love.”

Food for the Journey

The Eucharist, a precious and powerful gift, transforms hearts and fosters unity among Christians. By critically reading John 6, we deepen our understanding of this sacrament and its profound theology. Corpus Christi processions express our faith, reminding us of God’s unwavering love. As we journey in faith, let’s embrace the Eucharist with awe and gratitude. Jesus’ gift of His Body and Blood nourishes our souls and unites us with Himself.

Related Links

https://aleteia.org/2020/06/12/this-is-what-the-feast-of-corpus-christi-is-all-about/

https://www.ewtn.com/catholicism/seasons-and-feast-days/corpus-christi-14356

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Why Celebrating the Mass is Like Returning Home in 2020

/ chicoinematt

The death of Kobe Bryant ushered in the new year. It shocked the world. Suddenly the coronarovirus circled the globed. Lockdowns and quarantines ensued. Our lives have been upended. You may have joked about this year being the beginning of an apocalypse— honestly, it feels Pandora’s box of evil was opened and there is no end in sight.

time traveler 2020 meme

Recreational outlets for stress such as sporting events, music concerts, and festivals have either been cancelled for postponed indefinitely.  Local libraries, zoo, and museums closed. How the heck are you supposed to live? I contracted COVID19 in April and those were among the most miserable weeks for my family. And if that wasn’t bad enough the Church suspended public Masses.

I understand why the bishops temporarily removed the Sunday obligation. Viewing the Mass via the Internet was a gift. It was a grace to hear my diocese’s newly ordained bishop preach (my family ordinarily don’t attend the Cathedral for Mass so we wouldn’t have heard Bishop DeGrood otherwise).

In May several dioceses across the United States started allowing public liturgies with safety precautions. I was recently graced with the ability to receive the Blessed Sacrament for the first time in months. It felt like a homecoming.

Home is Where the Sacred Heart is

Saint Augustine wrote, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee. ” This year was a journey in the wilderness (I mean that literally and figuratively). Lent ended on April 11th however my spiritual dryness and suffering continued well into the Easter Season. Streaming the Mass on TV felt like viewing an oasis far off in a desert. Some weeks it appeared real and other times as a mirage.

sacred heart of Jesus is our home

The tangibility of going to Mass physically reminds me of the Incarnation—  God becoming man. Without that direct connection of hearing and seeing the priest in person it remained a great Cross to bear.

Saint Pope Pius X said, “Holy Communion is the shortest and safest way to heaven.” This life is not our true home. It is a pilgrimage toward our destination.

Home is about love. The truest form of love is found in the heart of Jesus.

Community of Love

Another term for the Blessed Sacrament is Holy Communion. I love this name for the Eucharist. Under the section What is this Sacrament Called?  the Catechism of the Catholic Church paragraph 1331,  (It is called)  “Holy Communion, because by this sacrament we unite ourselves to Christ, who makes us sharers in his Body and Blood to form a single body.” Love can only happen in the presence of another.

Jesus told his Apostles in Matthew 18:20,  “For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them.” This is the reality of the Church. People united together with each other through the power of God’s love.

Returning to Mass reminded me of this communion with God AND man. The priest stands in Personi Christ (the Person of Christ). While only a validly ordained priest, Eucharistic prayer, wheat bread, and grape wine are officially needed for the Sacrament to occur, it is a fuller sign of God’s love when the laity are present. Hearing the faithful sing the various hymns helped me to greater enter into the mystery of the Mass.

An Invisible (But Still Real Communion)

Mass is not boring

The community of the laity are a visible sign of communion. Yet, there is an invisible assembly present in the Mass— the angelic hosts and communion of saints. I felt closer to the holy ones during the Eucharist than when I was watching it in my own home on the television.  Jesus’ words to Thomas in John 20:29 hit home last Sunday, “Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.'” This world is not our true home. A world beyond the senses exist.

According to the Catechism, “The whole community thus joins in the unending praise that the Church in heaven, the angels and all the saints (CCC 1352). St. Augustine echoes this truth,  “The angels surround and help the priest when he is celebrating Mass.” Understanding this reality helped deepen my appreciate for the Mass. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Ask God to Give You Strength

God won't leave you

This year continues to send us new and unimaginable trials. Our hearts ache for love. The inability to receive the Eucharist made those challenges exponentially tougher. Some of you may still be in “exile” and wondering how long you have to wander aimlessly in the desert of 2020. God never totally abandons us even though it feels like it sometimes. Read the Bible daily or the writings of saints for comfort. Praying the Rosary or chaplet of Divine Mercy help ward off distress. I offer my sufferings to God in hopes that you may receive spiritual consolation to soothe you during your trials!

Related Links

10 Things You Should Do Until Public Masses Return

Why Priestly Ordinations Give Me Hope in an Age of Pandemic

7 Reasons to Go to Eucharistic Adoration

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