When I say I pray in adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, what do I mean?
I don't imagine that my puny and distracted heart, full of vainglory and the vanities of this world, is capable of adoring in any commensurate way the mystery of the Incarnate only-begotten Word of God who gives himself to me under the little form of bread. With all of my sins and hardness of heart, it would be hypocritical to say that I loved God in any way that made common sense.
I guess what I mean is that I just appreciate and contemplate the love that Jesus Christ has for me, a crucified love that has been calling to me and drawing me in for as long as I can remember. And he remains, patiently resting in all the tombs I make for myself with my sins, resting in all his tabernacles, waiting patiently and lovingly for me to grow weary of all the boredom and sadness I insist upon for myself.
The consuming fire of his humility burns to weightless ash all the pagan altars that the demons trick me into building in my heart. And when I finally let go of all of it and let my soul melt in the embrace of his Cross, I find that his Passion has torn open his flesh in the same shape as my own broken heart.
So I place my heart in his wounds, and adore the Love who pursues me.
4 comments:
Fr. Charles--thanks for blogging. It helps me and, I am sure, many. Reading your last three posts reminded me of this line: "The religious history of each individual is as solitary and complete as the history of the world." This is in John Henry Newman's sermon "Steadfastness in the Old Paths" excerpted in John Hulsman's The Rule of Our Warfare: JHN and the true Christian life. Hulsman's excerpts are sending me back to Newman's Parochial and Plain Sermons (the one-volume-containing-8 by Ignatius Press is excellent, indexed, and lists all the Scriptural references) an absolute gold mine of practical Christian thought and perspective. Hulsman's book is a good introduction to Newman's thought. Newman's healthy moderation and roundedness often reminds me of you.
Thanks for the encouragement!
Reminds me of the wonderful book by Ilia Delio, The Humility of God.
It inspired me to understand the paradox of bending low in humility in order to be lifted up. We often try to stand taller or reach higher, but bending low we are lifted up.
Whew. What a powerful Lenten message. I will read this often. It is like a potent prayer from ages past.
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