When Scott worked for Catholic Christian Outreach, we would attend the monthly nights of Eucharistic adoration. At one point in the evening, university students would approach the pulpit to share their testimonies of how they had given themselves to Christ after a period, or a lifetime, of distance and disinterest.
Without fail, these students, year after year, would explain that the moment of their personal conversion took place during adoration. Yes, they would mention the work of CCO’s missionaries and the wonderful faith studies that they had participated in over their school career as being life-changing, but it seemed that, without fail, their ultimate moment of self-offering happened silently before Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.
It’s something that we’ve talked about often. The work Scott and his fellow team members had done was essential, and priceless. It was the invitation, the explanation, and the introduction. But kneeling face to face with God himself was the moment of truth, and the grace was too beautiful to resist.
I recently met a family who converted to Catholicism from Protestantism. During COVID, they were looking for a place, any place, where they could pray. Sadly, all the doors were locked, until they hesitatingly made their way to a Catholic parking lot. I try to imagine how desperate my non-Catholic family members would have had to be to take that step. Regardless, they were welcomed in, to sit and pray before the tabernacle. Somehow, in the silence of the sanctuary, Truth spoke, and the family could not deny that Christ was truly present.
In the last days of Lent, I read an article written by Julia Duin, a Protestant who observed Lent. She wanted to find sacred spaces to pray, daily, during the forty days. Of course, this led her to Catholic churches, as most others are closed during weekdays. Julia travelled to many different cities, as parishes often listed different times and days that the sanctuary was open.
As she travelled about, she made note of all that she observed. She was distraught by how many doors were shut, and by how many parishes required appointments to go and pray. So few had frequent regular times for adoration. She even observed what she called “the health of a church” and could see a link between it and the times of adoration available.
“Again, I am not Catholic, so my observations are from without the camp. Still, the center of any parish is the people who pray for it, and I could pretty well judge the health of a church by the space it devoted to adoration. As a non-Catholic, I hope that Catholics can up their game on this adoration idea. There’s more to it than even they know.”
During the Easter season, we hear again the story of the road to Emmaus. Two disciples are on their way, dejected and disappointed at the death of the man they have put their hopes in. They have heard the mysterious story of his resurrection, but it seems unbelievable. Our Lord joins them and catechizes them, going through the prophecies of old and restoring their hope. They still do not recognize him until the breaking of the bread. “When he was at table with them, he took the bread and blessed, and broke it, and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized him” (Lk 24:30).
The Bread of the Presence awakened them, and they truly saw Our Lord in his resurrected body. He had been with them all that time, and they did not see him, did not know him. In the bread, what happened to the people I first spoke of happened to these two discouraged followers.
When I hear of studies showing that less than 30 per cent of Catholics believe in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, I am dismayed. Without the Eucharist there is no Church, no Catholicism. But I am not surprised. How many of us were ever truly catechized? How many of us have been near him our whole lives but never recognized or known him?
My Easter prayer is inspired by Emmaus: that all those searching might find Christ, and that the parishes in our diocese would find a way to worry less about questionnaires, fundraisers, and the inconveniences of open doors, and more about providing every possible opportunity for seekers to recognize and silently adore Christ.
He is waiting for us in the tabernacle. Let us open the door of the tabernacle and the door of our hearts.