A Love Supreme
Aug 23, 2011
Elizabeth Scalia
Just about two years ago, I had occasion to make a monastic retreat that included the gift and privilege of perpetual adoration. The community of Dominican nuns kept constant vigil, one-by-one with our lord, present in the Eucharist, and they invited me to do the same in their public chapel, throughout the night, if I liked.
Those hours of silent contemplation wrought a subtle but lasting change within me; at the time it did not feel subtle. It felt like dynamite applied beneath my soul: kaboom went everything I thought I knew, and I have been processing the experience, and working at restoration, ever since. And this has been difficult because, while words are my work and my play, they have utterly failed my process, and my comprehension.
Or not my comprehension, not really. I know what I comprehended, but it was something of such a different order. Imagine finding something—like a stone—covered with a strange writing that you are instantly, in a flash, able to understand. But you cannot translate it for anyone else because, although you know the message, there is no language on earth by which it may be conveyed.
You fall back on one word, “love,” but that word is wholly insufficient—using it is like trying to describe a deluge when the only word at your disposal is “damp.”
The love—it was blinding, mesmerizing, all-encompassing, warm, delightful—I still don’t have the words. One night I wrote to a friend, “I still have a long way to go before I can articulate what I learned there, in the amazing, tender presence of Him.”
Him. It was while I was on retreat, prostrate before the lord in the Blessed Sacrament, awash in that otherworldly presence, that I very naturally addressed him as “Your Majesty.”
Teresa of Avila often used the phrase and I admit to having always found it a bit excessive or prosy-pious (which is odd, because Teresa could never be called that). I had always wondered about it. Now, suddenly, I knew. I had had a glimpse of what it was to be in the presence of the eternal majesty, and it took away all of my resistance, all of my words. I surrendered, gave it all, understood the illusion that I had anything to give, and the paradox therein: that God never takes away a gift given, but accepts the surrender of everything, by gifting even more.
Teresa remarks that some—by the mercies and pleasure of the Lord alone—manage to learn in an hour what takes others a lifetime. she makes a rueful acceptance of the fact that some of those she taught and counseled understood in weeks what she did not know after 20 years of prayer, and then Teresa helplessly, adoringly, praises God for doing his own will.
I remembered Teresa’s observation when I read the story of filmwriter Joe Esterhas’ dramatic conversion experience. After treatment for throat cancer his struggles with lifelong addictions to nicotine and liquor brought him to a public collapse, “in the gutter” where he found himself begging God’s mercy. This wrecked man, who had “made fun of God and those who loved God” found himself made whole in unexpected ways; relieved of his addiction, his cancer-wracked body became healed even of the scars of its disease. He became, almost literally, a new man.
“His love is so strong” the new man said, “that it was even able to open my rusty old closed heart.”
“His love is so strong . . .”
It makes all things new. It creates and recreates, it permeates, it builds and renews.
His love is so strong that it breaks through all of our barriers—the physical ones (how many women do you know who have gotten pregnant even while using birth control?) and the cultural and religious ones, and even the intellectual ones.
Those intellectual and religious barriers may well be the most fortified and resolute because they are hoed with pride (which is evil’s handiest tool) and then fed on hurt and fear (evil’s fruitful gardens).
“His love is so strong . . . ” I read it and my eyes grow moist. Yes. I know it. His love radiated down from what my human eyes perceived to be a piece of bread, what my heart and spirit knew to be so much more, and for a brief time it bathed me in the warmest, most caressing light, and everything became different. Nothing is what it was.
In the light, the shadows and illusions fall away and you stand in the only reality, the completeness, the all-in-all. There is nothing else.
How does one assist at adoration and not feel inclined to bash all anger, all fear, all frustration, temptation, hopelessness, upon the cross of Christ—which can bear all things—and simply consent; simply allow him to recreate, revive, restore to make everything, everything, new.
His majesty will do it; He will not wait to discuss all the ways you have failed him—there is time for that, an eternity for that, later. If you allow him to, if you let him in, he will change you, and bathe you in his immense tenderness. If you are laying in a gutter, like Eszterhas, you can call on him, trusting in the words of Isaiah 38:17: “ . . . you have saved me from the pit of destruction, when you cast behind your back, all of my sins.”
It is beyond all of our knowing, which is why—no matter how tempted we are in our increasingly polarized church to stand with the Pharisees—we cannot. We must, ultimately err on the side of mercy, because mercy is what we all seek, and leave justice to the One who may be trusted to know what that is.
I hate my humanness, which keeps me so earth-bound, so hide-bound to my stubborn judgments, my weaknesses, my sins. I love my humanness, because it forces me to trust his majesty, and all of his ways, which are all-good. I will stumble. Every day I will stumble. Every day I will need forgiveness. Every day, I will understand my need to surrender because I am so helpless, so useless. Every day I will need pardon. Every day, will be the same day, as He is the same, even though everything is different. Especially because everything is different.
“His love is so strong . . .”
As evidenced by all of this blather, I have nothing to add to those five words.
Elizabeth Scalia is the Managing Editor of the Catholic Portal at Patheos and blogs as The Anchoress. Her previous articles for "On the Square" can be found here.
RESOURCES
A Note from Retreat
Eszterhas conversion
Erring on the side of Mercy
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Comments:
8.23.2011 | 6:35am
Brian says:
Is there a reason you left the word "lord" uncapitalized?
8.23.2011 | 10:01am
Ayodele says:
To describe that which is beyond description by the words "His love is so strong..." is in itself almost an understatement, but short of having the actual experience, will have to suffice for those who are looking forward to the bliss of being in the blessed presence of the Creator. The opportunity to participate in the serenity of the monastic tradition is perhaps the greatest loss suffered by protestantism, and as a protestant myself, (albeit one who attended Catholic schools for most of my education), I came to this awareness, after having a similar experience as the one which Elizabeth describes here. The joy is indescribable, and the peace truly "passeth all understanding".
8.23.2011 | 10:26am
Michael Liccione says:
I recall your tweeting yesterday that you had no idea what you were going to write about. Obviously, the Holy Spirit knew exactly what you were going to write about. Well done.
8.23.2011 | 10:28am
harry says:
Hello, Elizabeth,
That was beautiful.
I know exactly what you mean about not being able to find the words to convey to another one's spiritual experience before Jesus during adoration of Him in the Blessed Sacrament, but your words have inspired me to make a brief, feeble attempt here.
Worthiness. I suddenly had some sense of how thorough, complete and intense His suffering was for us; I knew it permeated Him to His innermost depths. I was filled with admiration. I think for the first time in my life I truly and sincerely adored God. He is *worthy* of our taking up our cross and following Him. I pray often that the grace of that sudden insight will return with all its force -- not just a faded memory of it -- when it becomes very difficult and frightening to bear witness to Him by doing the right thing.
That was beautiful.
I know exactly what you mean about not being able to find the words to convey to another one's spiritual experience before Jesus during adoration of Him in the Blessed Sacrament, but your words have inspired me to make a brief, feeble attempt here.
Worthiness. I suddenly had some sense of how thorough, complete and intense His suffering was for us; I knew it permeated Him to His innermost depths. I was filled with admiration. I think for the first time in my life I truly and sincerely adored God. He is *worthy* of our taking up our cross and following Him. I pray often that the grace of that sudden insight will return with all its force -- not just a faded memory of it -- when it becomes very difficult and frightening to bear witness to Him by doing the right thing.
8.23.2011 | 11:44am
Richard says:
I recall this experience when I lived in a monastery. But I wonder if the author realizes that the title of her essay is the title of one of John Coltrane's greatest works? Coltrane had had a rough time of it with Miles Davis and struggled with addiction. He eventually came out of the addiction and became very devout. The album he created which is focused on the religious "love supreme" as described here is considered by many to be one of the greatest jazz compositions of all time.
8.23.2011 | 1:10pm
T.D. Roy says:
I'm with Michael Liccione, above. Thanks for sharing this; it's particularly opportune for me today. As with many of your pieces, I am sure I will re-read it many times in the future.
8.23.2011 | 2:11pm
Rod Dreher says:
That's a powerful experience, Elizabeth, and well-conveyed, insofar as mystical experiences like that can be conveyed in language. Thank you for that.
Your bringing up Joe Eszterhas's conversion made me curious about what he's been up to since then. I was very sorry to learn that the old dog appears to have returned to his own vomit.
Your bringing up Joe Eszterhas's conversion made me curious about what he's been up to since then. I was very sorry to learn that the old dog appears to have returned to his own vomit.
8.23.2011 | 2:13pm
Elizabeth says:
Such a beautiful touching post. Our church has adoration every Thursday and I often drive by briefly considering stopping in but always allowing the busyness of my day to take precedent. This Thursday I will stop and stay a while. Thank you.
8.23.2011 | 5:33pm
Randy says:
When the famous saints of history start the process of inviting Jesus in, it seems like it never ends for them either. They open the door to their heart, get the cobwebs and the dust cleaned out, and then discover that their heart is really a whole apartment building, and they've only cleaned out the lobby. Their heart has three more floors, with three apartments on each floor, and each apartment has three rooms, etc. The more corners you clean up, the more corners you find that need cleaning. A lifetime is not enough. That's why everybody needs God's infinite mercy and forgiveness. Even the saints can't finish the job in one lifetime. So, there's hope for us too.
8.23.2011 | 8:44pm
Deacon Jim Stagg says:
What a wonderful article about what is a most marvelous experience.
In our little parish with adoration once a week, it was a experience of.....peace.
Peace be with you all.
In our little parish with adoration once a week, it was a experience of.....peace.
Peace be with you all.
8.23.2011 | 10:32pm
John Stockings says:
At the risk of being hooted off the screen, I must say (I am a cradle Catholic educated by nuns in the '50's) that Eucharistic adoration in my humble opinion is an archaic medieval practice that flourished when the average person, who was desperately poor and living a hand-to-mouth existence, had little opportunity to receive the Eucharist physically. Where does Jesus in any of the Gospels indicate even slightly or indirectly that he wished to be adored from afar rather than eaten in a communal ceremony? In 2009 I watched young nuns in an old wooden church in the Philippines dressed in white habits behind a barrier kneel in adoration for an hour at a time. The scene was beautiful, but it hardly can replace the actual reception of the Eucharist at Mass anywhere in the world. It is but a sign of conservative, pietistic excesses in the Catholic Church today that adoration of the Lord sparks an experience of ecstasy, while the celebration of the sacrifice of the Mass occasions no grandiloquent articles by such writers as Ms. Scalia. As Samuel Johnson said of "Paradise Lost," no one could have wished her rambling, overblown description of the indescribable any longer. What charitable act resulted from this otherwise subjective exhaltation? Bearing Christ's cross? Please tell me something in particular about that, and leave the gushing for a personal journal. If she has not been far more moved by one experience of Communion at Mass, she has not yet known what it is to be a Christian, much less a Catholic one.
8.23.2011 | 11:24pm
Stefanie says:
Well done, Elizabeth.
John S -- I thought the same thing about Adoration until I 'tried' it in 2005 -- after I took an early retirement so that I could 'do something' for our parish. Didn't know what that would be. Ended up I was asked to direct our parish's RCIA because I was 'good at organizing things.'
Thought it prudent to also weekly commit to a Catholic-something-'beyond-my-comprehension' -- the biggest to me was Eucharistic Adoration.
Our parish was just beginning to renew weekly Adoration and folks were signing up left and right, and so I signed up for Wednesday afternoons.
The first two years, I was so antsy, I could hardly stand it -- brought tons of things to read to get me through that hour.
Then -- I kept watching how others 'adore' -- how some would come and sit and weep so audibly, you could hear them. One young woman kept randomly showing up for a few minutes and her 'visit with the Lord' was not complete until she held onto the lifesized hand of the Sacred Heart of Jesus statue. What a nut, I'd think.
Each year of RCIA has its challenges, as you can well imagine. Each person has a story, the Church likes to say. Boy, do they ever! And our enemy enjoys the chaos he creates as each catechumen and candidate gets closer to the sacraments. The only thing to do is to bring it to His Presence.
Many a week, I would kneel before our Lord's Presence, utterly wiped out and without answers except to pray. I found without the weekly grounding of that Eucharistic Adoration, I could not empty myself for weekly service to the RCIA folks.
I didn't need a prayer guide or even the rosary.
I learned to sit and be with Him.
I learned to sit in peace and to be still and be content sitting in His presence, as the psalm says, "like a weaned child on his mother's lap."
The red lamp burning reminds me of the most ancient times of the Israelites and the lamps shining before the 'showbread.'
The Lord's humility stuns me.
That He could will Himself to 'always be with you until the end of the age' as such a common thing as bread. A-mazing.
One can never get to the end of it.
I think it's so that we don't take that 'bread' for granted when we come up to receive at Holy Communion -- that these acts of Adoration are important.
As you say, the Church did not deem it necessary to 'adore' Him in this way for hundreds of years. Why now?
Perhaps because we need to be reminded of His Presence.
The Church often reacts to a spiritual need in its ranks by establishing a new thing. The Rosary was developed in much that way. All Catholic spiritual and teaching, for instance, moving the ages of initiation of Confirmation and Eucharist around -- are done to right something that has gone wrong.
When anyone can come and receive Him as if He was a party-favor, perhaps we needed to be reminded of His Holy Presence.
Perhaps we need this again. Now.
At World Youth Day, to see all those million kids and chaperones and declared-religious kneeling in the mud, in the silence, to adore...wow.
Try it, John. Give it a weekly two years' worth in His Presence like I did. Who knows what may happen?
John S -- I thought the same thing about Adoration until I 'tried' it in 2005 -- after I took an early retirement so that I could 'do something' for our parish. Didn't know what that would be. Ended up I was asked to direct our parish's RCIA because I was 'good at organizing things.'
Thought it prudent to also weekly commit to a Catholic-something-'beyond-my-comprehension' -- the biggest to me was Eucharistic Adoration.
Our parish was just beginning to renew weekly Adoration and folks were signing up left and right, and so I signed up for Wednesday afternoons.
The first two years, I was so antsy, I could hardly stand it -- brought tons of things to read to get me through that hour.
Then -- I kept watching how others 'adore' -- how some would come and sit and weep so audibly, you could hear them. One young woman kept randomly showing up for a few minutes and her 'visit with the Lord' was not complete until she held onto the lifesized hand of the Sacred Heart of Jesus statue. What a nut, I'd think.
Each year of RCIA has its challenges, as you can well imagine. Each person has a story, the Church likes to say. Boy, do they ever! And our enemy enjoys the chaos he creates as each catechumen and candidate gets closer to the sacraments. The only thing to do is to bring it to His Presence.
Many a week, I would kneel before our Lord's Presence, utterly wiped out and without answers except to pray. I found without the weekly grounding of that Eucharistic Adoration, I could not empty myself for weekly service to the RCIA folks.
I didn't need a prayer guide or even the rosary.
I learned to sit and be with Him.
I learned to sit in peace and to be still and be content sitting in His presence, as the psalm says, "like a weaned child on his mother's lap."
The red lamp burning reminds me of the most ancient times of the Israelites and the lamps shining before the 'showbread.'
The Lord's humility stuns me.
That He could will Himself to 'always be with you until the end of the age' as such a common thing as bread. A-mazing.
One can never get to the end of it.
I think it's so that we don't take that 'bread' for granted when we come up to receive at Holy Communion -- that these acts of Adoration are important.
As you say, the Church did not deem it necessary to 'adore' Him in this way for hundreds of years. Why now?
Perhaps because we need to be reminded of His Presence.
The Church often reacts to a spiritual need in its ranks by establishing a new thing. The Rosary was developed in much that way. All Catholic spiritual and teaching, for instance, moving the ages of initiation of Confirmation and Eucharist around -- are done to right something that has gone wrong.
When anyone can come and receive Him as if He was a party-favor, perhaps we needed to be reminded of His Holy Presence.
Perhaps we need this again. Now.
At World Youth Day, to see all those million kids and chaperones and declared-religious kneeling in the mud, in the silence, to adore...wow.
Try it, John. Give it a weekly two years' worth in His Presence like I did. Who knows what may happen?
8.23.2011 | 11:35pm
Randy says:
John Stockings,
If being in the presence of the Holy Eucharist did nothing except provide a temporary sanctuary from the fallen world outside, that would be grace enough for most. If it was just a place to pray, undisturbed by other temptations, great. But, for those open to the experience, it's much more than that. It's a tiny piece of the Heavenly Kingdom brought down to Earth, like happens in mass, but in slow motion.
If being in the presence of the Holy Eucharist did nothing except provide a temporary sanctuary from the fallen world outside, that would be grace enough for most. If it was just a place to pray, undisturbed by other temptations, great. But, for those open to the experience, it's much more than that. It's a tiny piece of the Heavenly Kingdom brought down to Earth, like happens in mass, but in slow motion.
8.23.2011 | 11:37pm
T.D. Roy says:
"Eucharistic adoration in my humble opinion is an archaic medieval practice that flourished when the average person, who was desperately poor and living a hand-to-mouth existence, had little opportunity to receive the Eucharist physically." Does Mr. Stockings imagine that the poor were obligated to provide their own bread and wine? Why, the liturgy really has changed since Vatican II!
"while the celebration of the sacrifice of the Mass occasions no grandiloquent articles by such writers as Ms. Scalia." Really? How about such grandiloquent titles as "Eucharistic addiction"? http://badcatholicblog.blogspot.com/search/label/eucharist
"What charitable act resulted from this otherwise subjective exaltation?" Ah. Here we ask about profit margins: just how many productive acts have we got from this otherwise useless love? How dare you, Comrade Scalia, neglect your duties for "subjective exaltation"? Back to work - the divine economy of love is no playground, we'll have you know!
"If she has not been far more moved by one experience of Communion at Mass, she has not yet known what it is to be a Christian..." Mr. Stockings demands ecstasy at every Mass? Stern demands, comrade! One suspects few Catholics will meet Mr. Stockings' standard of Christianity; many of us may never have such an experience at all. And what of Protestants, who do not even take the Mass and so presumably have not had such an experience at regular Mass? Ah, ye separated "brethren"!
Benedict XVI: The Eucharist, the Heart of Life (Ignatius Press, 2001), pp. 88-89
"It is because it [the Presence] remains, that we adore the Lord in the Host. There are many objections to that. It is said that this was not done in the first thousand years. On that point we must first say simply that the Church grows and matures in the course of history.
...
A second objection goes: The Lord gave himself in bread and wine. Those are things we eat. He showed thereby clearly enough what he meant to happen and what he did not. Accordingly it was said that the bread is there, not to be gazed upon, but to be eaten. This is essentially right: even the Council of Trent says so. But let us just recall: What does that mean, to receive the Lord? That is never just a physical, bodily act, as when I eat a slice of bread. So it can therefore never be something that happens just in a moment. To receive Christ means: to move toward him, to adore him. For that reason, the reception can stretch out beyond the time of the eucharistic celebration; indeed, it has to do so. The more the Church grew into the eucharistic mystery, the more she understood that she could not consummate the celebration of Communion within the limited time available in the Mass."
"while the celebration of the sacrifice of the Mass occasions no grandiloquent articles by such writers as Ms. Scalia." Really? How about such grandiloquent titles as "Eucharistic addiction"? http://badcatholicblog.blogspot.com/search/label/eucharist
"What charitable act resulted from this otherwise subjective exaltation?" Ah. Here we ask about profit margins: just how many productive acts have we got from this otherwise useless love? How dare you, Comrade Scalia, neglect your duties for "subjective exaltation"? Back to work - the divine economy of love is no playground, we'll have you know!
"If she has not been far more moved by one experience of Communion at Mass, she has not yet known what it is to be a Christian..." Mr. Stockings demands ecstasy at every Mass? Stern demands, comrade! One suspects few Catholics will meet Mr. Stockings' standard of Christianity; many of us may never have such an experience at all. And what of Protestants, who do not even take the Mass and so presumably have not had such an experience at regular Mass? Ah, ye separated "brethren"!
Benedict XVI: The Eucharist, the Heart of Life (Ignatius Press, 2001), pp. 88-89
"It is because it [the Presence] remains, that we adore the Lord in the Host. There are many objections to that. It is said that this was not done in the first thousand years. On that point we must first say simply that the Church grows and matures in the course of history.
...
A second objection goes: The Lord gave himself in bread and wine. Those are things we eat. He showed thereby clearly enough what he meant to happen and what he did not. Accordingly it was said that the bread is there, not to be gazed upon, but to be eaten. This is essentially right: even the Council of Trent says so. But let us just recall: What does that mean, to receive the Lord? That is never just a physical, bodily act, as when I eat a slice of bread. So it can therefore never be something that happens just in a moment. To receive Christ means: to move toward him, to adore him. For that reason, the reception can stretch out beyond the time of the eucharistic celebration; indeed, it has to do so. The more the Church grew into the eucharistic mystery, the more she understood that she could not consummate the celebration of Communion within the limited time available in the Mass."
8.23.2011 | 11:42pm
Diane says:
Thank you for this beautiful article. I was blessed last year to adopt an hour a week at our church for Eucharistic Adoration. At first, I wondered what I would do for an hour. Now, a year later, I wish I could spend all my time in worship of my Lord. I can sit quietly in His Presence, and not need to say anything, just see Him before me. When I left today, I realized that my hour had stretched into almost and hour and a half, and I didn't realize it. God bless you.
8.24.2011 | 12:17am
harry says:
Hello, John Stockings,
You wrote:
"What charitable act resulted from this otherwise subjective exhaltation? ... If she has not been far more moved by one experience of Communion at Mass, she has not yet known what it is to be a Christian, much less a Catholic one."
How do you know that? Why do you assume perpetual adoration doesn't bear fruit in charitable acts? Did God tell you He never touches people deeply during perpetual adoration? Did He tell you He doesn't want people to ever share spiritual experiences in a public way?
People really do have spiritual experiences in connection with perpetual adoration as well as the reception of communion. It is not like descriptions of such experiences are continually being published by First Things or anywhere else that I can think of for that matter. It isn't like the world has grown tired of hearing about such things. To find such an experience described for public consideration is extremely rare. I can't see the harm in someone finally sharing such an experience in a public way, especially when it was so beautifully described and so touching to others (but not to you, obviously).
You wrote:
"What charitable act resulted from this otherwise subjective exhaltation? ... If she has not been far more moved by one experience of Communion at Mass, she has not yet known what it is to be a Christian, much less a Catholic one."
How do you know that? Why do you assume perpetual adoration doesn't bear fruit in charitable acts? Did God tell you He never touches people deeply during perpetual adoration? Did He tell you He doesn't want people to ever share spiritual experiences in a public way?
People really do have spiritual experiences in connection with perpetual adoration as well as the reception of communion. It is not like descriptions of such experiences are continually being published by First Things or anywhere else that I can think of for that matter. It isn't like the world has grown tired of hearing about such things. To find such an experience described for public consideration is extremely rare. I can't see the harm in someone finally sharing such an experience in a public way, especially when it was so beautifully described and so touching to others (but not to you, obviously).
8.24.2011 | 12:21am
Daniel Green says:
I saw this as an attachment to a tweet on the Rocco Palmo blog. After reading it I am just so overwhelmed because that which you describe is perfect for what I have been feeling in my own spiritual life. Thank you for giving words to my experience.
8.24.2011 | 1:03am
Anonymous says:
I was very glad to hear that you had this profound experience. We have here
a church with 24/7 Adoration. We all have our stories how we found the Lord, or maybe it is better described how HE found us. There are times when I am so stressed out, I just need to drop everything and run to HIM. So you tell HIM your troubles,
you cry, and you calm down. It's a love and trust relationship that transforms you.
Some days I barely can stay 15 minutes, other times you lose yourself for an hour or two. And you understand the Cure D'Ars answer as to what he does in His Presence,
namely, he said: "He looks at me and I look at Him.
a church with 24/7 Adoration. We all have our stories how we found the Lord, or maybe it is better described how HE found us. There are times when I am so stressed out, I just need to drop everything and run to HIM. So you tell HIM your troubles,
you cry, and you calm down. It's a love and trust relationship that transforms you.
Some days I barely can stay 15 minutes, other times you lose yourself for an hour or two. And you understand the Cure D'Ars answer as to what he does in His Presence,
namely, he said: "He looks at me and I look at Him.
8.24.2011 | 3:02am
Rick says:
I've never had anything approaching this sort of experience from being in the presence of the Eucharist, but your description powerfully reminded me of my all-time greatest church experience, nevertheless. It was many years ago in a little Assemblies of God church in California on a Sunday evening. The visiting evangelist, an old Wyoming cowboy by the name of Star Thomas--who may never have graduated from high school, for all I know--put out an alter call at the end of his talk. I felt powerfully drawn to walk down to the front and participate, although I had no idea that the Holy Spirit would descend in fire and power at that moment. Our small group was singing, and, despite being completely unrehearsed, it was a music of unearthly harmony and beauty. A woman behind me was speaking softly in tongues, and that too blended perfectly into the music, all of it orchestrated by the living Spirit. We seemed, suddenly, to be enveloped in a flame-colored cloud, felt rather than seen. Star Thomas was looking down at us with the most unearthly, shimmering light in his eyes, saying, "Just love him...just love him..." And we were swept off the earth into a heavenly realm of absolute Light and Love, a Love more powerful, yet tender than anything I had ever experienced. All barriers between us simply dissolved, and we were One in that Love. For awhile afterwards, when I tried to talk to people, I found that, instead of words, laughter came spilling out of my mouth. It was pure, unmitigated Joy! And, of course, it is completly ineffable.
So, I can definitely relate to your experience, although it is apparent to me that the Eucharist, while a fundamental and ancient feature of Christian practice, is not a necessary vehicle for this sort of direct encounter with the Lord.
So, I can definitely relate to your experience, although it is apparent to me that the Eucharist, while a fundamental and ancient feature of Christian practice, is not a necessary vehicle for this sort of direct encounter with the Lord.
8.24.2011 | 8:36am
harry says:
Hello, Rick,
You wrote:
"So, I can definitely relate to your experience, although it is apparent to me that the Eucharist, while a fundamental and ancient feature of Christian practice, is not a necessary vehicle for this sort of direct encounter with the Lord."
That is true. St. Paul had quite a spiritual experience while traveling to Damascus. ;o)
While spiritual experiences may be more associated with the state of one's heart and soul than with one's physical location, it seems that spending an hour with our Lord in Eucharistic adoration must dispose one for spiritual experiences. At least that is what anecdotal evidence suggests to me.
There is another situation that seems to often dispose one to spiritual experiences according to many people I have visited with who are converts to Catholicism. I have often heard an explanation of how and why someone became a Catholic beginning with something about their being alone in an empty Catholic Church yet they realized they were not alone. They could tell they were in the presence of God -- which, of course, they were, Jesus being present in the tabernacle.
You wrote:
"So, I can definitely relate to your experience, although it is apparent to me that the Eucharist, while a fundamental and ancient feature of Christian practice, is not a necessary vehicle for this sort of direct encounter with the Lord."
That is true. St. Paul had quite a spiritual experience while traveling to Damascus. ;o)
While spiritual experiences may be more associated with the state of one's heart and soul than with one's physical location, it seems that spending an hour with our Lord in Eucharistic adoration must dispose one for spiritual experiences. At least that is what anecdotal evidence suggests to me.
There is another situation that seems to often dispose one to spiritual experiences according to many people I have visited with who are converts to Catholicism. I have often heard an explanation of how and why someone became a Catholic beginning with something about their being alone in an empty Catholic Church yet they realized they were not alone. They could tell they were in the presence of God -- which, of course, they were, Jesus being present in the tabernacle.
8.24.2011 | 10:11am
Hortensia says:
Can you tell us where this monastery is and how to contact them for retreats?
8.24.2011 | 10:58am
Elizabeth Scalia says:
Hortensia, Our Lady of Grace Monastery in Guilford, CT. They don't actually "give" retreats, but they do allow women looking for silence to use what was formerly the extern sister's wing for retreat, and that of course has continual access to the public chapel. I wish I were there, now! :-)
Mr. John Stockings, you ask "where in scripture" we see Jesus suggesting adoration? I always think to those moments in Gethsemane, where he asked his friends to stay an hour with him. Also, this seems to be a very Mary/Martha debate. You seem to be coming from a Martha-oriented perspective. You want action, busyness, efficacy and results. Mary, however, sat by the Lord in silence and Jesus called that "the better part."
I can only tell you that 15 years ago, I felt as you do. About ten years ago, driving by a local church I heard the Angelus bells and decided to pop in for what we used to call a "visitation" to the Tabernacle. I had no idea they were also ringing those bells for Adoration, and when I walked in the effect upon me was stunning. I hadn't seen a monstrance in decades. I stayed for what I thought was 5 minutes; turns out it was an hour, and I have rarely missed a week at Adoration, since then. Its effect is not immediate. I too started out antsy, or reading or even -- like Jesus friends in the garden -- dozing off, but I found I could not stay away.
I heard a nun once say that Adoration was liking sitting in the sun. You don't feel the singe until later. I'd say that's about right.
In terms of utility -- since you seem to need to know what "use" this is -- I could go into some detail but I won't, because that almost seems like applying a commercial mindset to it all. I can tell you that Adoration, or communing in this way has ended up serving the Body of Christ in numerous ways, including some time in hospital ministry which mostly involved me visiting patients recovering from brain injury or surgeries. Often, because of the nature of their situation, all I could do was be present to them, in silence. At first I was intimidated to take that on, then I realized that Adoration had prepared me for exactly that sort of work.
And of course, there is the fact that 15 years ago your belligerent rant probably would have brought out all of my Irish and we'd be having a fine old Donnybrook about now. Over the years I find my taste for that simply draining away. I hope someday you will put your prejudice aside (or your odd coupling of political ideology to this most unpolitical of devotions) and give "staying an hour" with Christ a try. Pax.
Mr. John Stockings, you ask "where in scripture" we see Jesus suggesting adoration? I always think to those moments in Gethsemane, where he asked his friends to stay an hour with him. Also, this seems to be a very Mary/Martha debate. You seem to be coming from a Martha-oriented perspective. You want action, busyness, efficacy and results. Mary, however, sat by the Lord in silence and Jesus called that "the better part."
I can only tell you that 15 years ago, I felt as you do. About ten years ago, driving by a local church I heard the Angelus bells and decided to pop in for what we used to call a "visitation" to the Tabernacle. I had no idea they were also ringing those bells for Adoration, and when I walked in the effect upon me was stunning. I hadn't seen a monstrance in decades. I stayed for what I thought was 5 minutes; turns out it was an hour, and I have rarely missed a week at Adoration, since then. Its effect is not immediate. I too started out antsy, or reading or even -- like Jesus friends in the garden -- dozing off, but I found I could not stay away.
I heard a nun once say that Adoration was liking sitting in the sun. You don't feel the singe until later. I'd say that's about right.
In terms of utility -- since you seem to need to know what "use" this is -- I could go into some detail but I won't, because that almost seems like applying a commercial mindset to it all. I can tell you that Adoration, or communing in this way has ended up serving the Body of Christ in numerous ways, including some time in hospital ministry which mostly involved me visiting patients recovering from brain injury or surgeries. Often, because of the nature of their situation, all I could do was be present to them, in silence. At first I was intimidated to take that on, then I realized that Adoration had prepared me for exactly that sort of work.
And of course, there is the fact that 15 years ago your belligerent rant probably would have brought out all of my Irish and we'd be having a fine old Donnybrook about now. Over the years I find my taste for that simply draining away. I hope someday you will put your prejudice aside (or your odd coupling of political ideology to this most unpolitical of devotions) and give "staying an hour" with Christ a try. Pax.
8.24.2011 | 11:28am
Fr. A.W. says:
John Stockings, first and foremost, I think it's clear to most that your comments are awfully dismissive and judgmental toward Ms. Scalia's expression of her interior religious experience and relationship with God, and thus none too charitable. Bluntly, you owe her an apology, period. As to the content of your comments, Eucharist adoration arose out of the Catholic practice of maintaining hosts for the purpose of those who could not attend Mass due to some sort of infirmity. Of course, people over time figured out that it was massively illogical that, if Jesus was still present, Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity, for these folks who were ill, He would not be there for each and every other Catholic; i.e. the Real Presence is perduring. To fail to believe firmly and dynamically and conclusively in what liberals erroneously and disparagingly call "the static presence" is inevitably to conclude, unless one flushes logic completely down the toilet, that there is no Jesus for those poor benighted sick folks who couldn't make it to Mass. He's either present after Mass, or He isn't, and He is, and if He is, the failure to adore Him is acedia at work if not outright blasphemy. To me, this, and not papal primacy or the filioque, is the most crucially important work of our ecumenical efforts with the Orthodox. Yes, it's that important, and that central - central - central, because the Eucharist itself is the source and summit - to our faith.
The practice of adoration extends the Mass in time much as the Mass extends the redemptive work of the cross in time (cf. Trent, which Catholics must hold). "Eucharist" as the word refering to the Sacrament references the Mass, the reception of Communion, and the Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament outside of Mass. All three. Moreover, adoration is directly useful for more fruitful reception of Holy Communion (which is the point). I am sure that such is the case for Ms. Scalia. Furthermore, there is also the centrality and superiority of the contemplative path in Catholicism (note: irrefutably Scripturally rooted, Lk 10:42). One can't sit/kneel in contemplative prayer for an extended period in the midst of Mass, and Communion (the Sacramental Presence of the Lord within after receiving) is normally understood not to last longer than 15 minutes, so denial of adoration is essentially arguing that Catholics can't practice something that should by logic be central to their faith.
God bless, John, and I hope these comments were helpful to you.
The practice of adoration extends the Mass in time much as the Mass extends the redemptive work of the cross in time (cf. Trent, which Catholics must hold). "Eucharist" as the word refering to the Sacrament references the Mass, the reception of Communion, and the Real Presence in the Blessed Sacrament outside of Mass. All three. Moreover, adoration is directly useful for more fruitful reception of Holy Communion (which is the point). I am sure that such is the case for Ms. Scalia. Furthermore, there is also the centrality and superiority of the contemplative path in Catholicism (note: irrefutably Scripturally rooted, Lk 10:42). One can't sit/kneel in contemplative prayer for an extended period in the midst of Mass, and Communion (the Sacramental Presence of the Lord within after receiving) is normally understood not to last longer than 15 minutes, so denial of adoration is essentially arguing that Catholics can't practice something that should by logic be central to their faith.
God bless, John, and I hope these comments were helpful to you.
8.24.2011 | 12:24pm
Tom B says:
I don't want to gang up on J. S. I know he represents a lot of sincere Catholics, but my basic question is: what that you've said about Eucharistic adoration could not as easily said of prayer in any form.
8.24.2011 | 1:22pm
harry says:
Hello, Tom B,
"The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and **show myself to them.**"
-- John 14:21
According to these words of Jesus we should expect spiritual experiences. Jesus doesn't say under what conditions this will happen, and it seems the circumstances in which it happens are extremely varied. Even so, it seems also that when we spend time with Jesus in His presence in the Blessed Sacrament, even if it is spent simply "showing ourselves to Him," He sometimes returns the favor, "showing" Himself to us in an extraordinary way, one which is typically called a "spiritual experience." I don't find it surprising at all that this happens occasionally.
"The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and **show myself to them.**"
-- John 14:21
According to these words of Jesus we should expect spiritual experiences. Jesus doesn't say under what conditions this will happen, and it seems the circumstances in which it happens are extremely varied. Even so, it seems also that when we spend time with Jesus in His presence in the Blessed Sacrament, even if it is spent simply "showing ourselves to Him," He sometimes returns the favor, "showing" Himself to us in an extraordinary way, one which is typically called a "spiritual experience." I don't find it surprising at all that this happens occasionally.
8.24.2011 | 2:36pm
Rick says:
@Fr. A.W.
It was certainly interesting to get a "take no prisoners" interpretation of the orthodox Catholic docrine of the Eucharist, and it even sent me scurrying to my dictionary for some of the more obscure jargon used. But I think I have now learned the answer to a question I have been pondering: At just what point does the material, organic substance of the Eucharist cease to be divine after it enters the alimentary canal? If I'm not misinterpreting what you wrote, you have identified it as lasting 15 minutes, after which it disappears. Thank you! It still seems to me, though, that if we receive Jesus in our hearts, he will last much longer there. Isn't that the most important place for him to be? "But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst again."
It was certainly interesting to get a "take no prisoners" interpretation of the orthodox Catholic docrine of the Eucharist, and it even sent me scurrying to my dictionary for some of the more obscure jargon used. But I think I have now learned the answer to a question I have been pondering: At just what point does the material, organic substance of the Eucharist cease to be divine after it enters the alimentary canal? If I'm not misinterpreting what you wrote, you have identified it as lasting 15 minutes, after which it disappears. Thank you! It still seems to me, though, that if we receive Jesus in our hearts, he will last much longer there. Isn't that the most important place for him to be? "But whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst again."
8.24.2011 | 10:20pm
pdn Michael says:
An excellent account of what was obviously a mystical experience of the first order; many are not so fortunate to have that even once in an entire lifetime.
While Eucharistic adoration does not fall within the confines of conventional piety in my (the Eastern Orthodox) Church, the subsequent discussion reminded me of something an old Romanian monk said about the wave of converts in North America; specifically, how they differed from his native Orthodoxy. He said, and I paraphrase,"Americans want texts. I would rather hand them a prayer book and say, 'here, go do this.'" His point was that repeated assaults, if you will, on the throne of heaven would lead to awareness, internalizing of the presence of God rather than the assault on texts, which is NOT to say texts aren't important, but texts aren't the only thing. Fr. A.W.'s reference to the "centrality and superiority of the contemplative path" gets rather nicely at the point. It is not in the least a matter which has to do with alimentary (or Wabash-Erie!) canals.
While Eucharistic adoration does not fall within the confines of conventional piety in my (the Eastern Orthodox) Church, the subsequent discussion reminded me of something an old Romanian monk said about the wave of converts in North America; specifically, how they differed from his native Orthodoxy. He said, and I paraphrase,"Americans want texts. I would rather hand them a prayer book and say, 'here, go do this.'" His point was that repeated assaults, if you will, on the throne of heaven would lead to awareness, internalizing of the presence of God rather than the assault on texts, which is NOT to say texts aren't important, but texts aren't the only thing. Fr. A.W.'s reference to the "centrality and superiority of the contemplative path" gets rather nicely at the point. It is not in the least a matter which has to do with alimentary (or Wabash-Erie!) canals.
8.27.2011 | 8:51pm
Gil Costello says:
As a child I would sneak out of my dysfunctional home (my mom unable to leave her bed in a deep, dark depression and my dad concerned almost exclusively with placing a gambling bet and downing some Irish whiskey) about 5:30 and attend 6:00 mass, and after mass I would sit in front of the tabernacle in a small darkened area (I visited a year ago and it's still the same) and would commune with our Lord. It was simply being in the presence of my best friend. We communicated without words, but our conversations were clear. And after school I would return home after school and attend to taking care of my three sisters and my mom, cooking, cleaning and doing laundry by hand. All of this in great joy.
I left the Church at age 11, and it wasn't until about a year after my return to the Church at age 39 that I realized God had gifted me with contemplation as a child. During the darkest of times, when my wife was divorcing me (my return to the Church became far too much for her) I returned to visiting my Lord in the tabernacle after 6:00 mass every weekday morning, and the contemplation (pure gift) returned, just as I had known it as a child. I didn't seek ecstatic states: they just arrived.
There are certainly many types of experiences when physically close to our Lord, but for me it is simply returning to visit my best friend from childhood, and it is his friendship more than anything that has me yearn to be physically close to him.
I left the Church at age 11, and it wasn't until about a year after my return to the Church at age 39 that I realized God had gifted me with contemplation as a child. During the darkest of times, when my wife was divorcing me (my return to the Church became far too much for her) I returned to visiting my Lord in the tabernacle after 6:00 mass every weekday morning, and the contemplation (pure gift) returned, just as I had known it as a child. I didn't seek ecstatic states: they just arrived.
There are certainly many types of experiences when physically close to our Lord, but for me it is simply returning to visit my best friend from childhood, and it is his friendship more than anything that has me yearn to be physically close to him.
8.28.2011 | 11:39pm
Becca says:
Elizabeth,
This is beautiful. I will remember your reflection as I enter the Discalced Carmelite Nuns as a postulant this coming Saturday. They are also blessed with daily Eucharistic adoration. You would love the public chapel- stop by if you are ever in St. Louis! St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!
This is beautiful. I will remember your reflection as I enter the Discalced Carmelite Nuns as a postulant this coming Saturday. They are also blessed with daily Eucharistic adoration. You would love the public chapel- stop by if you are ever in St. Louis! St. Teresa of Avila, pray for us!
8.30.2011 | 3:03am
John Stockings says:
If anybody is still interested--I do not go online every day so I did not read the entries subsequent to mine until this evening--I would first like to note that Eucharistic adoration did not formally begin until Sept. 11, 1226 in Avignon to celebrate a victory over the Abigensians. "Reserving" of the Eucharist for sick persons was not adoration as practiced today. Nevertheless, the good Father above does raise a valid point about my uncharitableness, but didn't my irascible comments make Ms. Scalia look even more gracious in her forbearing and compassionate reply, except for that last Irish outburst about "belligerent rant," which perhaps goes a bit too far. I attended St. Bernard Church on 14th St. in Manhattan in the '70's and the pastor, aging Fr. Snee, defined charity as "active good will." His associate pastor, a young Filipino, told me to kneel in church and talk to God in the Eurcharist in the tabernacle. No Eucharistic adoration took place in most Catholic Church's in those days. Is this a Martha/Mary debate? Not really. But I will say that without Martha's humble service, Mary's tender adoration of Jesus would not have been possible, much less fruitful. Adoration is a form of contemplative prayer, and like all contemplation of God, it must result in some sacrifical works of charity (if we are able) or it degenerates into subjective self-indulgence, escapism, solipsism. St. Francis' life testifies to this, and Thomas Merton emphasized again and again in his writings the need for comtemplation to fill one with more charity to offer to others. Ms. Scalia, please accept my apology for using such scathing words. One last thought: if we Catholics believe that the Eucharist is the "sum and summit" of our faith (I hate this jingle-like phrase), why are we not evangelizing more to bring the Eucharist to the rest of humanity? Aren't we a bit complacent in our piety? Thank you to all who urge me to experience what has meant so much to you spiritually.
9.3.2011 | 6:38pm
Savanna Deluise says:
I know exactly what you mean about not being able to find the words to convey to another one's spiritual experience before Jesus during adoration of Him in the Blessed Sacrament, but your words have inspired me to make a brief, feeble attempt here. I recall your tweeting yesterday that you had no idea what you were going to write about. Obviously, the Holy Spirit knew exactly what you were going to write about. Well done.
9.9.2011 | 10:30pm
T.D. Roy says:
"didn't my irascible comments make Ms. Scalia look even more gracious in her forbearing and compassionate reply" - witty, and I should be so gracious.
"Adoration is a form of contemplative prayer, and like all contemplation of God, it must result in some sacrifical works of charity (if we are able)" - I think perhaps all true contemplation will do so - but that is beyond me, and your exhortation hits home.
Since I took part in the opposition, I felt I should respond to your later comments. As I said, I should be so gracious.
"Adoration is a form of contemplative prayer, and like all contemplation of God, it must result in some sacrifical works of charity (if we are able)" - I think perhaps all true contemplation will do so - but that is beyond me, and your exhortation hits home.
Since I took part in the opposition, I felt I should respond to your later comments. As I said, I should be so gracious.
