In this Year of Prayer I’m trying to write a bit more about different ways of prayer. This column came about after I’d seen a brief video on social media, about a priest who’d created a “drive up Adoration window” in his rectory window during the Covid lockdowns. It still serves the Body of Christ in those wee small hours, when we need consolation.
We all have them — those desperate times, particularly in the wee small hours of the morning, when illness or anxiety pulls us up from our beds and down to our knees, or keeps us on our feet, pacing the floor as we seek relief from physical or mental or spiritual aches and ailments.
What do you do in those times? Do you find yourself longing for a mother’s presence, and thus pick up your rosary? Do you warm up some milk, light a candle and open the Scriptures?
I recall a particular night when old ghosts and new torments were trampling heart and mind, preventing rest. Not wishing to disturb my family, I drove to a local parish. There, I stood at a side door, gazing through a small window at the tabernacle within, visible only by the light of the candle beside it (the reassuring sign that Christ was there). I simply watched the flame flicker, and adored. I asked Jesus if I might stay there — not exactly at his feet but as near as I might — and take my consolation from his boundless and supernatural presence.
It was by no means an ideal situation, and yet as I stood there, consolation did in fact come. On those chilly steps, a true “peace surpassing all understanding” (Phil 4:7) settled upon me like a healing balm. Despite my limited view, Christ transcended the tabernacle and every material and spiritual obstacle between us and let me feel not just seen but recognized, not just heard but understood. … Mostly, I felt loved beyond my own comprehension of intimacy, and acceptance.
My latest column for OSV — you can read the rest HERE.
Image: Crypt chapel, Seminary of the Immaculate Conception, Huntington, NY/Elizabeth Scalia