Holy Thursday – The Last Supper – The Institution of the Eucharist
Today is the perfect day for the last post in this series. This post jumps ahead to February 2018. Obviously, many things occurred between the years of part 2 and this post, and I am quite aware that receiving Him in Holy Communion for many years yielded a great deal of grace in my life.
But for this series, I wanted to share some specific moments of my story with respect to the Eucharist that had a major impact in my relationship with Jesus. So let’s jump to 2018…
Last year I attended a retreat with the Sisters of Life, a retreat I’ve been on several times.
One of the activities during the weekend is a Eucharistic Healing Procession. The purpose of this type of adoration is healing, just as when the hemorrhaging woman touched Jesus’ cloak and was cured.
Jesus is exposed in the monstrance for adoration. Each retreatant can approach the altar rail, while the priest processes holding Jesus in the monstrance in front of each person.
You get some private time to adore and venerate Jesus and touch the monstrance (touch Jesus) in any way you feel comfortable and for as long as you need. Some may kiss the monstrance, some may just place a hand on Him. It is completely personal.
As we sat in prayer before the procession began, my heart felt like it was not quite put together right or maybe not quite whole or broken somehow, but I was not sure why. Nothing in particular was bothering me, and I wasn’t sure how I needed to be healed. But I spoke frankly with Our Lord.
“What is broken in me, Lord?” I pleaded. “Can you help me understand? Heal my aching heart.”
As the procession began, the sisters went to the rail first to lead us. As they slowly headed back to their seats, the first two retreatants filled in the spots as they opened, but no line had yet formed. I’m the type to hang back and let others go first, so I waited.
Then, another spot opened, and clear as day I heard in my heart, “Come.” I immediately got out of my seat. Jesus was calling me to Him.
I knelt at the rail and waited for the priest to step in front of me so I could touch Jesus. I rested my hand on the base of the Monstrance. I’m not sure how long I knelt there, not long at all, maybe a minute, and then I went back to my pew.
And then a grace beyond words was poured out into my heart. Despite the fact that I didn’t know how I needed healing, he healed me.
Now everything suddenly became clear, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. Throughout my life I have always experienced a sense of loneliness or emptiness, sometimes just barely perceptible and at times intensely acute. And I finally understood that I had always been missing Him. I had always been on a search for Him.
My heart had a God-sized hole that I was perpetually looking to fill. All of my choices, seemingly to stem from different places on the surface, actually came from this same root, the missing piece of my heart.
And from years of trying to fill that emptiness, my heart was also bleeding from a thousand tiny cracks. I was hemorrhaging, like the woman in the Bible, and touching Him in the Eucharist stopped the flow suddenly. And then…
He offered me His heart to fill the hole in mine. I wrote in my journal His words that I perceived that night. (These are thoughts that I felt, not words that I actually heard):
“I will heal you of your longing for Me. We are sharing our hearts and anytime you suffer an earthly loneliness, you will know that My heart is in yours. You will call to Me and I will answer. The loneliness will be the means that we grow together and unite to each other.”
– from my personal journal
He also made it very clear to me that I would continue to experience some earthly loneliness through life – I would continue to feel “unknown” at times by my fellow humans. I would find myself in situations in which my heart will be hurt, judged, scorned or simply ignored, and feel that familiar loneliness. It will still hurt.
But every time I experience this loneliness, I will not feel emptiness and despair because I can turn inward to my heart where He is dwelling. I will never be truly alone. (In fact, I never was alone but I didn’t know it.) Never again will I feel that infinite heartache because I know I am His and He is mine.
And I bawled like a baby – big, fat, soggy tears that stained the kneeler and floor below me – tears of deep, deep consolation.
My dear readers, Jesus is very much present to us in the Eucharist. This is no figment of our imaginations or hopeful wishes.
As you sit in Mass tonight at the Lord’s Supper, I pray that you will enter deeply into this great mystery. Don’t hold back your heart. Trust and surrender. Ask Our Lord to show you His presence and speak to you. Beg from Him whatever you need and know that He will answer.
The gift of the Eucharist is Mercy. It is Goodness. It is Love.
