Even more sought after than Bitcoin is the passcode to gain admission to the new perpetual adoration chapel at St. Ambrose. It’s a slice of heaven in the middle of Woodbury. After convincing a college-aged parishioner that I was sufficiently trustworthy to be given the code, I stopped by to pray one night last week and was inspired by the number of people who were there, presumably both to give Lenten praise to God and to refill the tank at the end of a busy day.
I found myself praying for the dozen or so people in that chapel that night, all younger than me. Judging from their apparel, some had come from the office, some from the gym, some from dinner and others from home, perhaps after putting the kids to bed. Equipped with insulated water bottles, Bibles, pens and notebooks for journaling, and even ear buds (perhaps for Father Mike Schmitz’s “Bible in a Year” podcast), they had come well prepared for their Holy Hours. Everything suggested that they were serious about their mission.
Archbishop Bernard Hebda
The layout of St. Ambrose’s adoration chapel offers an intriguing juxtaposition: From every vantage point, the eye easily captures both a stunning San Damiano crucifix and the simple beauty of the monstrance. On the cusp of Holy Week, the visuals of the chapel seemed to emphasize the connectedness between the mysteries of our faith, encompassing the very events that we will be remembering on our spiritual journey through the Sacred Triduum that begins on Holy Thursday and concludes on Easter. As St. John Paul II would remind us in his 2003 document on the Eucharist, “Ecclesia de Eucharistia,” the span of those three days embraces both the “mysterium paschale” (the paschal mystery) and the “mysterium eucharisticum” (the eucharistic mystery). The two are eternally connected. From the monstrance, Jesus, who humbles himself to be present to us in the Eucharist, reminds us of both his victory over death and of the sacrifice that he made for us. His willingness to be so accessible to us in the Eucharist offers comfort not only as we contemplate the details of his passion but also as we consider his invitation to imitate him by taking up our crosses and following him.
For St. John Paul, the mystery of the Eucharist was always a mystery of light: It sheds light on the truth that is before us. I reflect often on the experience of the disciples on the road to Emmaus who were in the presence of Jesus on that first Easter Sunday but unaware of his identity. It’s only in the breaking of the bread — the celebration of the Eucharist — that they come to recognize Jesus in their midst. St. John Paul stated that “whenever the Church celebrates the Eucharist, the faithful can in some way relive the experience of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus: ‘Their eyes were opened and they recognized him.’”
I suspect that is what has drawn so many to Mass each Sunday even in the midst of a pandemic, and that has motivated so many parishioners at St. Ambrose and throughout our archdiocese to commit to a weekly eucharistic Holy Hour. Whether we are trying to make sense of the war in Ukraine, or of violence in our cities, or of strife in our families, we turn to our eucharistic Lord to open our eyes so that we might recognize him, follow him and serve him in our brothers and sisters.
The connection between the Eucharist and service is essential. Pope Francis has emphasized that Jesus shows us in the Eucharist that the aim of life lies precisely in self-giving, and that we can find strength even in fragility. He has reminded us that in the light of the Eucharist we are able to “find the greatness of God in a piece of Bread, in a fragility that overflows with love, that overflows with sharing. … Jesus becomes fragile like the bread that is broken and crumbled.” For Pope Francis, Jesus’ strength lies most especially in that fragility. “In the Eucharist fragility is strength: the strength of the love that becomes small so it can be welcomed and not feared; the strength of the love that is broken and shared so as to nourish and give life; the strength of the love that is split apart so as to join all of us in unity.”
As we enter the holiest of weeks, let us turn to Jesus in the Eucharist to open our eyes to his presence among us, to challenge us to greater self-giving in spite of our littleness and fragility, and to be our strength, a strength grounded in love. It would be a blessing to see you in church this Holy Week, gathered around the Lord’s table. As Pope Francis has prayed, “May the Blessed Virgin, in whom God became flesh, help us (this Holy Week and Easter) to embrace the Eucharist with a grateful heart and to make a gift of our life, too. May the Eucharist make us a gift for all others.” Blessed Easter!
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