Presence

There is a certain grace in the full attention of a friend, a moment of recognition  or the simplicity of genuine greeting.  And in many ways, that is what the adoration of the Eucharist is about: the mysterious moments that linger with wonder, the time apart from the frenzy of work and life, the sense of trust and confidence in the experience of the universe, the experience of other.

Presence is about more than physical location; it is about openness to the reality of a moment.  Eucharistic adoration is like that: it is about taking a moment, a few minutes, an hour, to know that there is something beyond self in this complicated universe.   It is about arriving in a quiet church to real silence, the kind that is chosen and shared rather than the accidental and awkward silence.  It is about the odd assumption that we are doing something for God and somehow discovering what God is doing for us.  It is about believing that being in the presence of God, in sacred space, matters; that those moments and hours open unexpected hopes and understandings, even empower a person to strive to become better.

It is physically acknowledged in the monstrance, the Eucharist encased in a piece so particularly designed for visibility.  And yet, the host itself so humbly made by human hands, so central, a subtle reminder of the simplicity of a God who is at the center of everything, always.  And often, a reminder of how easily distracted the surrounding grandeur can be.  That time of choice, of physical presence to one another, is a time of deepening awareness.

And so the Eucharist itself, a gift of presence through generations, actually invites greater presence to one another, greater awareness of the needs of others and the very very difficult nature of human life.  In the silence of Eucharistic adoration, compassion and  empathy are born and shaped, sanctioned and satisfied.  Presence means daring to believe and to become.  For some, that gift arrives in those quiet hours before the Eucharist.

Eucharistic adoration is a rare gift.  It opens up a network of prayer and communication that inspires more.  It provides a physically comforting space in a world of suffering and pain, and it serves always as a reminder that no one is truly alone.  God is waiting. God is present.

 

 

world of suffering, doubt and pain.  It

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