Christ in the Most Blessed
Sacrament of the Altar ...
You have found me ...
For so very, very, long I have awaited this moment! Since first I formed
you in your mother's womb, in unutterable love, I have awaited this
moment ... and it is come.
Let us now speak, face to face ... no, no, child, do not cast down your
eyes, but lift them up. See: I hold your face even as you speak; let
me look upon your eyes, as ever a father looks lovingly into the eyes
of his child. You are mine; even more than you are his.
Let us remember this moment.
At every Mass I had sought you. I peered past the faces of my many beloved
children, and I looked for you, looked upon you – and after every Mass
I invited you, called to you, but you did not hear me. You did not hear
me because you did not see me.
You knew I was here, but you had forgotten.
Not in vain did they hide me so far – sometimes even completely hidden
from – the Altar of my Sacrifice, as though the Lamb could be separated
from his own immolation.
You did not gaze upon me because you did not see me. My Altar has become
barren of my Agony ... it is become a table, a refectory for many, and
no longer the Altar of the Sacrifice of the One.
I must ask you, my child, did you ever see me laid
upon that Altar? Did ever you see my bruised, battered,
and broken body laying across, upon, that hallowed height?
Did you ever see me, before your very eyes, lifted upon the Cross
before you as my Priest held me up to the Father in the Holy Eucharist?
Did you ever recognize that what was being enacted before you
in the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is the very same Sacrifice
which I offered up to my Father on Calvary? Not a different one. Not
a symbolic one. But the same Sacrifice enacted before your
very eyes. Did you know that what separates you from my Holy Mother
at the foot of the Cross ... is the closing of your eyes ... even as
she closed hers – and I was, I am, present to you both. You were
not at Calvary. You are at Calvary ... at the Most Holy
Sacrifice of the Mass!
You have forgotten so much, my little one, or more often still – and
this is so painful to me – there is so much that you had never been
Tell Me ...
are talking ... at long last in My very Presence
... so let me ask of you one question, my child. It is really a question
I should like you to ask yourself. Tell me:
you behave any differently
were you to see me visibly; were you to behold me physically
standing before you, the wounds still in my hands and my feet, still
in my side? Were I to appear thus to you ... would you behave any differently
toward me than you do in acknowledging my Presence – Body, Blood, Soul,
and Divinity – in the Eucharist, in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar,
in the Tabernacle, at the Most Holy Sacrifice of the Mass? Think well
before you answer, little one, for much depends upon how you answer
If your behavior would be any different, if your
reverence would be greater, your love more fervid ... oh, little one,
you are then lacking so much in faith; and what is more grievous still,
your behavior does not accord with
your belief: you aver, profess
to hold to, one thing ... and behave as if you do not believe
what you profess at all ...
It may sting you, my child, and it so pains me to tell you, but this
grievous disparity between what you profess to believe, and how you
actually behave is either the deadly sin of pride or the shameful
sin of hypocrisy. Either you pretend to believe what you really
do not believe, or you do believe but are too
proud before the world, before the eyes of men, to humble yourself
in my Real Presence. Were I visible to their eyes, you would
not hesitate; but because I am not, that act of Faith that conquers
Pride defers to the world of men. You have Faith, my child, but you
have no courage. Instead of ignoring men ... you ignore your
God. And think, my child ... is that not the essence of sin?
“How so?”, you ask, “and in what ways?”
back and think of the many, many times you have passed by me in the
Tabernacle – how lovingly I have watched you approach, thrilled
at your coming, ... and how sadly I have watched you pass me by with
not so much as a silent greeting, a genuflection or even a bow. You
have passed by me as by a column in the Church, which is unknowing of
you, heedless of you, without love for you. Quickly, thoughtlessly,
and most often attentive to your neighbor whom you would not dare to
affront by ignoring or disregarding their presence. Surely you would
not pass by even a casual acquaintance, let alone a loved friend, without
so much as a word, a gesture – and yet you seem to fear, as it were,
scandal, by acknowledging me.
Do you not know by now that to be one of mine is to
be a scandal to the world, a contradiction to it?
You shrink from the epithets they will hurl at you, even as they hurled
still greater ones at me. Do you think I do not know of them?
“See how pious he makes himself appear to be!”
“Look at her, ever holier than thou.”
“She should be humiliated by these acts of piety!”
“He is doing it for the praise of many, to be thought holy
in the sight of men. What a hypocrite!”
“Who does she think she is ... a saint? Pretending to be one!
You know they will avoid you, marginalize you, accuse you of subtle
evil ... and most often they will think you ill of mind; you
will be shunned, and even hated ... and so often, to my unspeakable
sorrow, by the very people held to the holy: by your priests, your deacons,
your nuns – you will be a scandal to them because you will cause them
to accuse themselves.
You will be a reproach to them, and they will
hate you for it. But take heart. Did I not tell you that if the
world hates you, know that it hated me first? You wish to share
in my glory. But will you share in my shame? You will be glorified with
me; but will you also be humiliated with me? For your sake
I bore humiliation. For my sake will you bear it also? Is the
servant greater than the Master?
Beloved child, I hear you sing that I, the Lord of Heaven and Earth,
am “the center of your life”, and at once behold the breathless celerity
with which you leave my church, a haste that will not allow a reverent
genuflection before me, an unspoken word of love to me ... Who has fed
you with the Bread of Angels, and Who ever beholds you ... and
sustains you in my love. I am puzzled, my child; but more than puzzled,
I am greatly sorrowed.
not be discouraged, little one,
by what I tell you. Ever and always I speak to you in the gentlest love,
and yet, my child, I must ask you now to consider more. We are Heart
to heart, are we not? And Voice to voice? Even Ear to ear? Listen to
me, my child: Had I chosen to remain with you in my true Body,
Blood, Soul, and Divinity ... that is to say, in my total being,
as your Lord, your Redeemer, and your God – had I chosen but
one place to abide, – let us say with my servant
Peter in Rome – and in no other Church except St. Peter's, how many,
many pilgrimages would be made, and at what great cost and sacrifice
to the faithful, to be truly in my Real Presence,
where I may be found as in no other place on earth! No expense would
be spared, no suffering not gratefully endured, no hardship happily
undertaken ... as long as the journey brought them to Me!
With what reverence, love, and devotion would they accord themselves
before me! Having enjoyed this but even once in a lifetime would suffice
to make for a happy death. Each would say, in utter consolation,
have knelt before my God, I have been in His Presence, I have offered
him my love — and what is more .... what is infinitely more ... He gave
himself to me! He gave me, fed
me, placed upon my tongue, His very Body, His very Blood, His very Soul,
His very Divinity! He
Himself! All this ... all this ... He deigned to give me, an
unprofitable servant in the mid-day sun! I have received ... Communion
with God. I have become one with Him and He with me. I have partaken
of the Bread of Angels. I have received the pledge of life eternal:
“Who eats My flesh and drinks My blood has life eternal, and I will
raise him up on the last day.” Truly ... truly, what possible return
could I make to my God for so unspeakable a gift! His very Self! Is
this not the Gift given the blessed in Heaven?”
“But I see that you are eager to speak. Come, then, let us whisper.
Now I will be silent. It is your turn, little one .... speak.”
Song of the Servant
Totally Faithful to the Sacred
Deposit of Faith entrusted to the Holy See in Rome
opera tua ... quia modicum habes virtutem, et servasti
verbum Meum, nec non negasti Nomen Meum”
know your works ... that you have but little power, and yet
you have kept My word, and have not denied My Name.”
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