Do you ever feel ‘tired of it all’? Do you ever think, ‘I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired’? Do you come across this phrase, ‘There is not one who cares for my soul,’ and look up and say, ‘Yes, that’s me!’? I daresay many who are reading this have experienced these feelings more than once. Think of the ditty we sang as children, ‘Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I’m gonna eat some worms.’ These feelings might bring a slight smile to our lips, but for others they are all too familiar. ‘The worst poverty in the world,’ said Mother Teresa of Calcutta, ‘is loneliness.’
Today’s Gospel reading (John 6:41-51), like those of the past few weeks, is about Jesus recognizing the hungers of the human heart. Before He left this earth to return to heaven, He found a way to remain with us, physically, for the rest of our lives. His remedy is the Holy Eucharist, especially as we know Him in Holy Communion.
Jesus wanted to remain with us—I think it was hard for Him to leave this earth because He loved being with us for those thirty-three years and He knew we would need Him down through the centuries. He wanted us to be able to go to Him for comfort and guidance; to tell Him our dreams and our disappointments. He desired that we would know we could reach out to Him with our fears, our confusion, or grief, our stories of success. St. John tells us at the end of his Gospel that the whole world would be too small to hold all the books containing His human encounters while He was on earth. As there must have been so many interactions during His life on earth that were intimate and unique for each person, so through the Holy Eucharist we would still be able to run to Him after work or before an exam to bring Him our love, or beg Him for His understanding when we have failed. And healing. Oh, the healings that have happened in the quiet moments after Holy Communion, or in the silent adoration chapels that dot the landscape of our lives where we lose ourselves in His presence for an hour when we need Him most. When Jesus says I am the Bread of Life, He means exactly that. In gazing on Him, and especially in consuming Him in the Blessed Sacrament, we are so unutterably immersed in Him and He in us that all else pales.
There we have it. The mystery of the Holy Eucharist, the exquisite gift of Jesus to us on the last night of His life on earth, is our refuge and our hope throughout our life. If we have not yet experienced that, it may be through no fault of our own. If we have never been led to the intimacy of Holy Communion or adoration, it isn’t too late to discover it. Walk humbly into the presence of Jesus at Holy Mass or in the Church during the week, and look toward Him in anticipation of the gift He has waiting for you. He thirsts for you, and listens for your steps on the cool chapel floor. Kneel or sit quietly. Don’t try to talk at first. Don’t ask too many questions right away. Just be as an open ivory page where He is free to write His love for you. His Heart rejoices when He knows you are coming to Mass, or to adore Him, no matter how few or many times you have been there before. He is our Food, broken and given for us, for the forgiveness of our sins.
The place where our need meets the desire of God is the Holy Eucharist. Let us neither be afraid of nor become accustomed to being near Him, hiding ourselves in Him. There is no safer place, nowhere else we need to be.
This week if you have a chance read the sixth chapter of the Gospel of St. John. Let your eyes rest upon the words, as though for the first time, with which Jesus endeavors to explain how near He wants to be to us. Hear them in their most literal form. Savor each phrase, and between the lines hear the beating of His Heart. It beats for you. You just might find that your heart beats in time with His. After all, His Heart and your heart were made for each other.
May Jesus, who is called faithful and true, and who lives with you eternally, possess our hearts forever (Liturgy of the Hours, Vol. I, Morning Prayer, Saturday, Week I).
and then