I often slip into church in the early hours of the morning, before much of Elkton wakes up, so that I have some time to pray and reflect on the Word. It’s my one-on-one time with the Lord, and I am so grateful for it.
On Memorial Day this past Monday, I took my place in the front pew as I always do and prepared to pray my Office, the collection of psalms and readings that the Church prescribes her priests and religious to pray each day. With the exception of the red votive candle burning by the tabernacle, the sanctuary was still in total darkness – except, something else unexpectedly caught my eye. Another flickering light. Subtle. Nearly hidden.
There, in the front corner near the Baptismal font, the much-too-large Paschal candle that our parish orders each year for the Easter Vigil was glowing with a small flame that – wait for it – had been burning 24/7 since the previous Sunday’s celebration of Pentecost.
One entire week – with daily Masses, music practices and weekend liturgies – and no one noticed the burning flame. And if perchance they did, it was ignored.
A few thoughts came flooding to me as I went to extinguish the candle:
Firstly, after our Advent mishap of the wreath that went up in flames during Mass, I realized that Immaculate Conception parish has a real problem with fire. (Note to the new pastor: better check our insurance to see if it is updated).
But mostly, I couldn’t help but think the following thought: how is it that we all missed the burning light? How did we all not see the candle pouring itself out before our eyes?
Therein lies the power, the beauty and the challenge of this Solemnity celebrating the True Presence of our Lord and Savior hidden in the Eucharist we celebrate each time we gather around this table. How is it that most of us keep missing the Hidden Flame of Love that burns within the Communion we are privileged to receive? How is it that we so quickly forget that Our God waits for us in every Tabernacle of the world, promising us to stay with us until the end of the age?
Our God doesn’t lie, and he meant what he said: He is here (“I will never leave you”). Right here. A hidden flame burning with love for us, calling us to Him.
And yet, what do we do?
We forget. Ignore. Let other things take His place in our lives.
I say this not as a way to send us on a good ol’ Catholic guilt trip. It is not said to shame nor suggest that we should never leave from kneeling before the Holy Presence in the Tabernacle. God most certainly created us to live our lives beyond the sanctuary of the Church.
But, bear this in mind – Christ asked to go with us to those very places where we live, work, recreate, and study. He asked and offered to be our Food so that we can take Him to every person and situation we encounter in our lives, both the joyful times and in moments of great struggle and darkness.
He asked to feed us with Himself so that He can be a hidden burning light of love at work within our souls for the salvation of the world.
But in order to be that for others, we have to first come recognize and be open to the Burning Light of Eucharistic Presence that awaits us and feeds us.
Here’s how. It’s certainly a challenge, but a good one … and one that begins by simply asking this for our consideration: why is it that we take on challenges of so many sorts – athletic, child-rearing, mechanic and scientific – and yet, when it comes to our spiritual lives, there is often a collective shrug and yawn?
Be open to the challenge of the Hidden Flame of Eucharistic living:
Spend time with Him beyond the Sunday celebration of the Liturgy. This (Mass) is the source and summit, of course, but a flame of intimate friendship and love cannot be sustained without spending extra-ordinary time with the One who longs to feed us and carry us.
Thus, we must challenge ourselves: am I coming to Mass with time enough to collect my thoughts and pray? Am I reverent in my reception of this Love? Do I immerse myself in His Word in order to understand my responsibilities as a disciple? Is my soul in a space to receive the full grace that comes from Eucharist?
Another goal: am I willing to spend time in His Presence outside of Mass? Do I show and share my love of God through times of Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament? Do I visit the chapel for a time of quiet prayer when I have a free moment or two? As I pass a Catholic Church, do I remember to sign myself with the Cross as a way to acknowledge the Flame of Presence waiting in that church’s tabernacle?
Lastly, this thought – and it comes from a minor detail in today’s Gospel that seems unimportant but says nearly everything we need to be open to in order to grow in authentic relationship. Jesus said to his disciples preparing for the Last Supper-Passover: “Go into the city and a man will meet you, carrying a water jar. Wherever he enters, follow him.”
My heart is captured by this tidbit of information for this reason alone: Men in that culture would never publicly carry a water jar.
Thus, Jesus was in effect saying, “Everything that I do – and ask you to do as my disciple – is the exact opposite of what the world expects or demands. To them, it makes no sense. And yet, if you follow Me, I promise that the world, and your life, will never be the same.”
The God who came to us as a human person while never losing a drop of His divinity, and the God who went to the Cross to save us and rose from the dead to bring us to eternal life, is the very same God who chose to love us enough to remain with us in the Eucharistic (Passover/Last Supper) substances of bread and wine, transformed at every altar throughout the word by the power of His Word (“Do this in remembrance of Me”) and the sacred actions of the priest.
Who remains with us in Eucharist and in our tabernacles beyond the celebration of Liturgy is God Himself. He is here, as present to us as he was to his first apostles. And yet to the world – and even to many Catholics – the belief in such a True Presence is like following a man with a water jar in the city and going to an unknown room you know nothing about. Preposterous. A foolish waste of time.
But therein lies the challenge and the heart of all truth. If we dare to follow, faith grows; so too does the love relationship between God and us. We ultimately become a living tabernacle ourselves.
And the little flame of hidden Presence keeps burning a little brighter for us and for the whole world.