As I have acknowledged previously, Father Ignatius John Schweitzer, O.P gave birth to Godhead Here in Hiding Whom I Do Adore – Lay Dominicans Reflect on Eucharistic Adoration two year ago, when he invited the Lay Dominicans of the Province of St. Joseph to share their thoughts on the Eucharist and Eucharistic Adoration. He did this not knowing how many would respond or in what genre they would write.

As a result of Father’s invitation, we now have a symphony of diverse reflections – from the simple to the sublime. Each reflection is a gem in its own right. Each one an invitation to a greater belief in, and reverence for, God’s Presence among us.

(Photo by Eric Mok on Unsplash

Try this gem on for size:

                                                            In the Presence of the Lord

 “Come out of the marketplace, put down your vegetable knives, the laundry, your coming and going. Let your hands drop from the work of the world. Bring me your heart. Leave everything else.”

Imagine Jesus entering a village, and the excited residents calling from house to house, “He is here! Come! He has arrived!” A bucket drops back into the well, dough is covered with a bowl for later, the loom goes quiet, a plough tilts to one side in the furrow. Breathless villagers rush to sit at the feet of the rabbi named Jesus. The room is warm, and the energy is electric around Him. They listen, some with questions beating in their chests like birds in a cage. Jesus answers their unuttered questions as He speaks. Some bring sadness like baskets of dust, some bring the charred remains of long-held anger, some are as full of worry as a tall jar of olives. A secretly wrapped wound, a coughing child, a pain that is old and never relents – people bring all of these things to Jesus. He heals, transforms, steadies, and uplifts with both His words and His gentle, penetrating gaze, and everyone there feels this grace of His touch, even if He does not touch them physically.

When He was born, Jesus was brought gold, myrrh, frankincense. People were still coming to Him with full hands, but whether it was a gift of kings, or a tear-streaked face and an apron full of dusty figs, He accepts everything. Jesus leans forward to stress a word, raise a palm, tilts His head back and laughs, and the people know He is not only a teacher, but a healer, a master, and a joyful friend. Like dawn spreading pink and gold across the sky, they begin to realize who He is: the anointed one, long awaited, the Messiah.

When He left the village, they cried, already missing Him, and most returned to their work thinking about His words, but even more, remembering how He made them feel. They would never be the same, and they knew it.

The world is still a marketplace, a busy village, not that different from the way it was two thousand years ago. And still, God, is calling us to put down some of the busyness, and to sit with Him.

The voice of God is not a cinematic production, at least not for me. It doesn’t rock the sky with fireworks. Instead, it comes quietly the way snow arrives silently in the night, the beauty of its arrival lost if we are not awake to see it. In the stillness and silence, we can feel the presence of God. Our time in prayer is like taking new yarn and dipping it into a vat of dye. The yarn emerges tinted with the dye bath just as we emerge from prayer with hearts saturated with love.

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