“And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.’” (Luke 22:19).
When I was a little girl in Kindergarten, my Kindergarten class went into the Church attached to our school and our Kindergarten Teacher talked to us about the little red light that was lit behind the altar. And I still remember her words so clearly, it is as though she were speaking to me yesterday.
She told us that we needed to be very quiet inside the church because that little red light was lit when the Blessed Sacrament was present in the form of Consecrated Hosts inside the Tabernacle. It was from this very young age, that I was taught to genuflect upon entering a church because that little red lamp would be glowing silently behind the altar as a signal that Christ – God Himself – was present inside the Church.
And so it was that all my life I have adopted this habit without very much thought at all. And then – suddenly – the other day, out of the blue, it occurred to me what a tremendous thing this really is…
You see, God Himself entered Time and Space during the Incarnation, so that He could save us. And right there on Holy Thursday, in the evening on the night before He died, “And He took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of Me.’” (Luke 22:19).
And I have been reflecting on those words, because when Christ gave us His Body and Blood on Holy Thursday, He did not only give us Himself – completely as God – so that we could consume Him during the Holy Sacrament of Mass, He gave us Himself so that He would wait for us. Yes. Think about that for a moment… God – King of the Universe – it sitting in there in the form of bread waiting inside a dark box, inside an empty church for souls like mine (and like yours too) to walk inside and visit Him.
In other words, what I realised the other day – surely through the intervention of the Holy Spirit – is that God Himself made himself as weak as a piece of bread and a sip of win so that He could wait in Time and Space for us. He made Himself into something so much smaller than me and allows Himself to be locked into a tiny little box just so that He will be waiting in there on the off-chance that I feel like swinging into the empty church for a moment to say hello.
And when I stop to think about that, my soul is consumed with grief. For I cannot begin to fathom the love of my Beloved for a miserable soul like mine.
For me – miserable unworthy little me – my Beloved allows Himself to assume the form of a scrap of bread. And for me – miserable unworthy little me – my Beloved waits right there, inside a little box, in the dark, inside the empty church, just in case I can be bothered to swing past for a few seconds to genuflect and say hello…
And when I think of Him waiting there – inside that box for me – my heart breaks with grief… For I could never understand such a love as that… Never ever ever…
For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.
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