Eucharistic Adoration: Face to Face in Friendship with God

Photo | EWTN Poland

A live internet feed from a Eucharistic Adoration chapel in Poland arrived on this blog at Christmas and is now revealed as a special gift from our Patron Saint.

February 22, 2023 by Fr. Gordon MacRae

Books are occasionally sent to me from Catholic publishers with an invitation to write and publish a review. One of the books sent to me several years ago was, ironically, the Manual for Eucharistic Adoration created by The Poor Clare Sisters of Perpetual Adoration. I was surprised that it was sent to me because I am the only person among our readers who is unable to ever take part in Adoration before the Blessed Sacrament.

While perusing the Manual, I felt a sense of shame that as a younger priest when I actually had such opportunities, I never gave any thought to Eucharistic Adoration. I blithely dismissed it as akin to being invited to dinner just to stare at the food. That was a shallow and superficial dismissal of what would one day become a gift of central importance. It is human nature to want something more when you are told you can no longer have it. I wrote a post about receiving this book. It was likely the most unusual review the publisher ever got. I titled it, “Priesthood in the Real Presence and the Present Absence.”

The rest of this story has so many twists and turns that it is difficult to know exactly how to continue. So I will begin about ten days before Christmas in 2022. For reasons I do not understand, I asked our volunteer publisher to find and restore that book review post six years after I wrote it. It was one of the posts written for an older version of this blog so some revision was necessary for it to be viewed. I had it restored, but then never referred to it again — until months later.

Coming off the previous two dark years of pandemic restrictions and other chaos, I wanted to construct a 2022 Christmas post to inspire hope in a higher cause. During a phone call from prison with our publisher, we were constructing the various elements of “Lead Kindly Light: Our Christmas Card to Readers.” I asked readers who are alone at Christmas to spend some time with that post which contained inspirational music and other features.

When it was all put together, I had a last minute request that suddenly came to mind. I have been locked up with few resources and no access to the internet for going on 29 years, but I had read that there are online round-the-clock live feeds of Eucharistic Adoration and I was intrigued by this. So I asked our publisher to search for some of them. The first one she found was from a chapel in Poland. I could not see it but she described it to me. There were lots of other options, but I was fixated on that one and did not want to look any further.

Most devotees of Eucharistic Adoration know that the Blessed Sacrament is displayed in a vessel called a “monstrance.” It comes from the Latin, “monstrantia.” Oddly, the word “monster” comes from that same root. It means “portent,” the appearance of something of either amazing or calamitous importance.

I can receive photographs and letters sent electronically to a very limited GTL tablet in my cell, so I asked our publisher to send me a screen shot of the monstrance used for Adoration in that chapel in Poland. The next day, I was surprised to see it. It is Mary herself bearing, as she did in life, the Body of Christ. It is the image atop this post.

Photo | EpiskopatNews

A Woman Clothed with the Sun

In a typical presentation for Adoration, the monstrance for display of the Blessed Sacrament often resembles the rays of the Sun which gives life to the human body. Being in the Presence of the Lord gives life to the soul. The monstrance now atop this post depicts the “Woman Clothed with the Sun” (Revelation l2:l):

“A great portent appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the Sun, with the Moon under her feet and on her head, a crown of twelve stars. She was with child.”

I had previously written a very popular post about Mary with an account of how and why the Church honors her as the New Ark of the Covenant with the Greek title, Theotokos, which means “Bearer of God.” Some of our Protestant cousins protest the place Mary holds in our religious traditions, but the concern is misplaced. The Body of Christ came from Mary. His Soul and Divinity came from God.

The monstrance for Adoration in that chapel in Poland perfectly illustrates the theology I described in “The Ark of the Covenant and the Mother of God” which is now linked under the Adoration Chapel announcement at the end of each post. Having seen this monstrance, I decided on the spot to include this opportunity for Adoration at the end of our Christmas post. I still cannot see it because I cannot see this blog. But you can see it, and I hoped that some of you might visit that Chapel in my stead.

The response to this at Christmas was excellent. So as the New Year dawned, I asked our publisher to make this a permanent feature at the end of every future post at Beyond These Stone Walls. I had no idea what was driving my sudden obsession for something I cannot even see. The answer to that was coming, however, and it left me stunned and speechless.

Two weeks after I decided to retain this Adoration Chapel from Poland as an opportunity for our readers, I returned from work in the prison law library and was called to pick up an item of personal property - another book. I felt a little irritated because receiving unexpected books sometimes means that I have to surrender a book in order to receive one. On that day, however, it did not happen. But I was still irritated. The Book was a newly published title from Marian Press sent to me for a possible review. It was The Way of Mercy: Pilgrimage in Catholic Poland by Stephen J. Binz .

After receiving the book, I climbed back up the 52 stairs to my cell and tossed it onto a small pile of books in a corner where it sat for a week. Then one sleepless night later in January, I finally picked it up and perused it in the dark with my little book light. It was a tour and historical commentary on the great Catholic shrines of Poland with featured sections on St. John Paul II, St. Maximilian Kolbe, St. Maria Faustina, and others about whom I had written. Poland was the birthplace of the powerful Divine Mercy devotion that had swept our lives here — both Pornchai Moontri’s and my own.

I turned to the section on Saint Maximilian Kolbe and began reading, then I bumped my head on the upper bunk as I suddenly sat up in shocked surprise. Staring back at me was the Adoration Chapel that we had just featured on this blog. How could this be? My mind was racing as I retraced the seemingly random steps resulting in our selection of this very place. The book offers this description, part of a detailed history of Niepokalanow, the City of the Immaculata that St. Maximilian Kolbe established prior to his arrest and imprisonment at Auschwitz:

“A passageway on the left leads to the Chapel of Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, inaugurated in 2018. At the altar, a silver figure of Mary serves as a monstrance for the Blessed Sacrament under her heart.

“She was indeed the first monstrance, teaching us how to adore Jesus. The figure is surrounded by a wreath of silver lilies and golden rays. This World Center of Prayer for Peace is one of twelve international prayer centers for peace that are being established on all the continents of the world.

“The figure of Mary in the Adoration Chapel and the image of the Immaculata on the main altar contain elements of the Miraculous Medal of Mary Immaculate which was so beloved of St. Maximilian. The saint called the Miraculous Medal the spiritual “bullet” of his Militia in its war on all the powers that prevent a soul from embracing God wholeheartedly.”

Many readers already know the story of how Divine Mercy penetrated these prison walls to reach into my imprisonment and that of our friend, Pornchai Moontri. I wrote awhile back of how two great saints of the 20th Century — both from Catholic Poland — became personal role models for Divine Mercy and transformed our spiritual lives. You should not miss “A Tale of Two Priests : Maximilian Kolbe and John Paul II.” Here is an important excerpt:

“Perceived as a clear threat to the Nazi mindset, Maximilian was arrested and jailed for months in 1939 while his publishing ability was destroyed. Upon his release, he instituted the practice of round-the-clock Eucharistic Adoration for his community decades before it became common practice in parishes.”

After release from his first imprisonment, Father Maximilian continued to defy the Nazi regime by writing and publishing, and by aiding in the rescue of Jews. He was imprisoned again in 1941, but that time he was released only through his martyrdom. I wrote of how he faced death in “Saint Maximilian Kolbe and the Gift of Noble Defiance.”

Photo | EpiskopatNews

Face to Face with Divine Mercy

In the January 2023 issue of the monthly publication, Adoremus Bulletin, Father Justin Kizewski has an article entitled, “Face to Face and Eye to Eye: A Reflection on Eucharistic Adoration.” Father Kisewski traces the “Bread of the Presence” back in history some 4,000 years to Melchizedek, King of Salem which would become Jerusalem. Father Kizewski wrote of him:

“Melchizedek is that mysterious priest-king of Salem [who] feeds God’s pilgrim people in the person of Abraham and his companions with a sacrificial offering of bread and wine [Genesis 14:18]. This sacrificial offering of bread and wine was repeated in the Temple liturgy on a weekly basis. The priests would bake bread with incense mixed into it and pass it through the Holy of Holies before leaving it on a table in the sanctuary next to the tabernacle for the next week. The old bread that was replaced would be consumed by the priests.”

The Bread of the Temple sacrifice also came to be known in Jerusalem as the “Bread of the Presence” or the “Bread of the Face of God.” It symbolized an Old Testament anticipation of what was to become for us a far greater gift in the Eucharist. It is because of these ancient traditions that Jesus chose bread and wine as the elements for the first Eucharistic Feast known to us as “The Last Supper.” I wrote of these same events, and of the ancient priest-king Melchizedek in “The Feast of Corpus Christi and the Order of Melchizedek.”

For our Jewish spiritual ancestors, the Bread of the Presence was a sign of God’s saving work among His people. It recalled the Covenants of Abraham and Moses, the Exodus, the Passover, and most especially it recalled God’s love for us. Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament is dynamic. As Father Justin Kizewski describes:

“When we look at the Eucharist, we see the Flesh of the One whose Mother carried him in her womb and bore him into the world. Analogously, when we adore the Eucharist ... we are meant to receive Him and ‘give birth’ to him in our daily life.”

Father Kizewski equates being present to the Lord in Adoration as like basking in sunlight. Early in this post I wrote that the monstrance for Adoration often has the appearance of rays from the Sun. We are changed in our essence during Adoration, like Moses was changed and his face became radiant in the Presence of Christ at the Transfiguration.

A few winters ago, I discovered that I have occasional bouts of psoriatic arthritis. The psoriasis appears on my face and scalp and it has at times been awful. I have just had to live with it. Then I read in a copy of The Epoch Times that limited time in sunlight is a potent treatment for psoriasis. Each day now, whenever the Sun is shining even in winter, I leave my work in the prison Law Library for a half hour to sit outside in the sunlight. It has helped immensely. The half hour speeds by as I sit alone to let the Sun penetrate what ails me.

Adoration is similar to that. We come face to face with the Lord in mutual love and fidelity. We let meeting his gaze change us and penetrates what ails our soul. Adoration brings Divine perspective to receiving Christ in the Eucharist, the True Bread from Heaven given for the Life of the World (John 6).

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Note from Fr. Gordon MacRae: The Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent is from Matthew 4:1-11. It is the account of the temptation of Christ in the desert and it has momentous implications for us during Lent and throughout our lives. I wrote of the story within this Gospel passage in “To Azazel: The Fate of a Church that Wanders in the Desert.”

Thank you for reading and sharing this post. You may also like these related posts from Beyond These Stone Walls:

Priesthood in the Real Presence and the Present Absence

A Tale of Two Priests : Maximilian Kolbe and John Paul II

Saint Maximilian Kolbe and the Gift of Noble Defiance

Fr. Seraphim Michalenko on a Mission of Divine Mercy

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From the Basilica of the Blessed Virgin Mary the Immaculate at Niepokalanow, Saint Maximilian Kolbe offering the world to Mary Our Mother | Photo | EpiscopatNews

The Eucharistic Adoration Chapel established by Saint Maximilian Kolbe was inaugurated at the outbreak of World War II. It was restored as a Chapel of Adoration in September, 2018, the commemoration of the date that the war began. It is now part of the World Center of Prayer for Peace. The live internet feed of the Adoration Chapel at Niepokalanow — sponsored by EWTN — was established just a few weeks before we discovered it and began to include in at Beyond These Stone Walls. Click “Watch on YouTube” in the lower left corner to see how many people around the world are present there with you. The number appears below the symbol for EWTN.

Click or tap the image for live access to the Adoration Chapel.

The following is a translation from the Polish in the image above: “Eighth Star in the Crown of Mary Queen of Peace” “Chapel of Perpetual Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament at Niepokalanow. World Center of Prayer for Peace.” “On September 1, 2018, the World Center of Prayer for Peace in Niepokalanow was opened. It would be difficult to find a more expressive reference to the need for constant prayer for peace than the anniversary of the outbreak of World War II.”

For the Catholic theology behind this image, visit my post, “The Ark of the Covenant and the Mother of God.”

Priesthood in the Real Presence and the Present Absence

A new Manual for Eucharistic Adoration from the Poor Clares and Saint Benedict Press has found a captive audience in Fr Gordon MacRae as he marks 34 years of priesthood.

June 1, 2016 by Fr. Gordon MacRae

“You have GOT to be joking!” That was my first reaction. In early April this year, I was summoned to a prison office to sign for “personal property.” I had no idea what it could be. I hadn’t ordered anything recently from the place where we in prison must purchase shoes, clothing, toiletries. So it had to be a book, but receiving books here also requires that I know in advance that the book is coming. I knew of nothing.

I signed for the mysterious item and returned to my cell where I sat down on a concrete stump — the same one I am typing upon at this moment. “You have GOT to be joking’” I said to myself as I perused the book in my hand and its cover letter. It was from Christian Tappe, Director of Marketing at Saint Benedict Press in Charlotte, North Carolina. The letter began:

“I am pleased to enclose this review copy of TAN Books’ Manual for Eucharistic Adoration… written by the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration. If you would like more information, or to schedule an interview…”

I was more bewildered than ever. It was the fourth time in the last year that a Catholic publisher has sent me a book to review on These Stone Walls. Are people actually reading TSW? But this particular book was a complete mystery. First off, I should not have received it at all. The shipment and cover letter were addressed to “Father” Gordon MacRae with no prison number (67546) as required on anything sent to me. In the ordinary course, either the use of a title or the absence of a number would cause the book to be rejected and returned to sender without my even knowing about it. But here it was, in my hand nonetheless.

My first impulse was to toss the book aside as useless, at least for me. My apologies to the Poor Clares who so lovingly wrote it, and to the publisher who so kindly sent it to me. I am a slow learner, so the nicely adorned book sat unopened in a corner of my cell for a month. I was simply too caught up in the glaring irony of it. There is no True Presence here to adore. There is only the present absence.

To make matters worse, and more mysterious, on the same day I received the Manual for Eucharistic Adoration  I learned from lawyers that we had lost yet another effort at appeal of my wrongful conviction and imprisonment. It took one full year for the First Circuit Court of Appeals to notify us that they will not review an earlier decision to dismiss my appeal with no hearing on its merits or evidence. This has made the road to justice ever steeper and more treacherous. I am told that others will be taking this up to write about it.

In the Nighttime

So it was in the dim and murky light of continued injustice that I tossed aside the good sisters’ book about Eucharistic Adoration, and shrugged it off. But appearances can be deceiving, and you never know what apparently “useless” thing might have a profound influence on your view of the world — not only the world you live in, but the world that lives in you. Who you are is in large part a collision of these two worlds, and a person of faith risks great loss if the interior life is forfeited to live only in that other, more calamitous world. We have to live in and with both worlds, and we have to keep them in balance.

One day recently, I saw a vocation ad in Our Sunday Visitor for a community of sisters. The ad described them as a “monastic, cloistered and contemplative community,” and then added, “Find us on Facebook!” That, to me, seemed a collision of two worlds, but it works if the sisters can reflect in the latter world the light that shines in the former.

On June 5th I mark thirty-four years of priesthood. Twenty-two of them have been in a place where presence before the Blessed Sacrament is unavailable and simply impossible. It can only be imagined. It has been a long time since I wrote of the power of the True Presence in a place where it seems absent. In 2010 I wrote a post entitled “The Sacrifice of the Mass” (Part I and Part II), and it seemed a pivotal point not only for These Stone Walls, but for my life as a priest in extraordinary circumstances.

The two-part post described the utter deprivation of something many readers simply took for granted in their world. For my first seven years in this prison, Mass was unavailable to me, and without it I found myself growing ever more distant from my life as a priest. That post described the extreme efforts it took to gain the ability to offer Mass, beginning with what I today call a “spiritual offering.”

It wasn’t what you might think. It was along the lines of a “Spiritual Communion,” and I got the idea from reading Father Walter Ciszek’s book, He Leadeth Me. During twenty years in a Siberian prison accused of being a Vatican spy, Father Ciszek could only imagine the Mass. Sitting in the pitch dark at night on his bunk, he began to recite The Roman Canon in his mind, and to imagine himself present before the Blessed Sacrament. After reading this, I began to do the same, and my post, “The Sacrifice of the Mass” evolved from that. After I wrote that two-part post, a TSW reader sent me a letter, an excerpt of which follows:

“I cannot imagine what sustains your identity as a priest in that prison. There is nothing in that environment that in any way supports your priesthood. You are not ever in the company of other priests. Your diocese and fellow priests have cast you off. You see yourself each day in the mirror wearing the uniform of a prisoner, and you know in your mind, heart and soul that there has been no justice in your being forced to wear this role.

“And yet when I read your writings, your priesthood is always at the forefront, the part of you that shines the brightest, that speaks the loudest, that sustains not only you but apparently many of those around you in that place. Can you explain, Father MacRae, what exactly allows you to retain a priestly identity?”

Come Be My Light

I do not have an answer for this. After I wrote my recent post, “Mother Teresa of Calcutta: Pentecost Illumines the Night,” some readers wrote in comments that they are moved by my faith. It is not so obvious. At least, it is not obvious to me. I struggle with faith on a daily basis, and I found a kindred spirit in Saint Mother Teresa when I learned that she struggled as well. The truth is that it was the Poor Clares’ Manual of Eucharistic Adoration that caused me to look more deeply into the faith life of soon-to-be Saint Mother Teresa. The Manual includes an admonition from her, and it was this quote that prompted me to write “Mother Teresa of Calcutta: Pentecost Illumines the Night.”

“The time you spend with Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament is the best time you will spend on earth. Each moment that you spend with Jesus will deepen your union with Him and make your soul everlastingly more glorious and beautiful in heaven, and will help bring about everlasting peace on earth.”

Manual, p. 111

It was from writing that post that I fathomed the necessity of Eucharistic Adoration. It is not for us to be present to Him. It is for Him to be present to us in a way that “will deepen your union with Him.” That is the very purpose of the interior life, that other world that we must balance with our other foot in this world.

While writing my Pentecost post, I learned of the spiritual deprivation often experienced by Mother Teresa, but that deprivation never seemed able to diminish her commitment to serve the poor. Rather, the opposite happened. It was her service to the poor that brought her to the Paschal Mystery and kept her there, ever providing the beckoning of Christ that compelled her spiritual life. Mother Teresa sought union with Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, and brought Christ from there to the poor. It was never the other way around.

Eucharistic Adoration

So how could I, as a priest wrongly imprisoned for decades, possibly bring my interior life into this world where the True Presence is so overshadowed by the present absence? No matter what the source of the sense of emptiness is in your life, if you are reading this you know what I mean by “the present absence.” That is why God allowed Mother Teresa and others among our patron saints to suffer spiritual deprivation, and to endure it. It was so that we might emulate them as they serve as beacons in spiritual darkness. Their witness inspires hope in the dark, not just our rescue from it.

As has happened on so many nights in prison, I awoke one night recently, filled with an anxiety that has no name. It’s not related to anything I can identify. It’s just there, a natural side effect of the stifling nature of an American prison. I have a little battery-powered book light purchased from the same prison vendor from which we purchase clothing and other needs. Waking often in the night, I have gotten hundreds of times my money’s worth from that small light.

I switched on the light in that anxious night, and reached for my glasses and a book on a small shelf at the end of my iron bunk. I thought I had grabbed another book, but my hand landed on the previously untouched Manual for Eucharistic Adoration by the Poor Clares. It has a ribbon page marker so I opened to the ribbon and was struck by this admonition from Saint John Vianney, the Curé of Ars and the patron saint of priests:

“When you awake in the night, transport yourself quickly in spirit before the tabernacle, saying, ‘Behold, my God, I come to adore you, to praise, thank, and love you, and to keep you company with the angels.’”

Manual, p. 116

So that night I tried to imagine a time and a place in which being before the Blessed Sacrament was most meaningful to me. Sadly, it was long ago. It wasn’t during my years as a parish priest when time and again I passed by the sanctuary and tabernacle barely noticing, blindly going from one pastoral task to another, not even genuflecting, not even knowing that I failed to bring Christ with me because I failed to stop and enter into His Presence. At some point in my life as a priest, this world collided with that one, and demolished it. This has been the real priesthood scandal. Action somehow overshadowed contemplation to our priestly peril.

It was only years later, after year upon year of absence, that I became aware of this deprivation of the Presence of God. So in that night of prison anxiety my mind fled down the nights and down the days, past the parishes where I served, and the seminary I attended, to a Benedictine Abbey just twenty miles from this prison. The journey in my mind took me to 1977. I was a Capuchin then, attending school at Saint Anselm College, and my most special place on campus was a tiny alcove built into the Abbey Church.

There, before a magnificent granite tabernacle, I spent many hours in the Presence of the Lord. Last year, a reader found a photograph of the interior of the Saint Anselm Abbey Church and printed it for me. It is the opening graphic for this post. Then our Missionary of Mercy Friend, Father George David Byers, found a photo of the Blessed Sacrament alcove to the right of the main sanctuary. This is where I went back then, before the world shook lose the Holy Longing to be in His Presence. This is where I go now when I awaken in the night. Sometimes, now, I don’t think I awaken with anxiety and then go there. I think I now awaken just to go there.

In just a few months, These Stone Walls will mark seven years in publication, just one third the time that I have been in this prison. During that seven years, many readers have sent me letters and comments informing me that they have devoted an hour before the Blessed Sacrament to be in His Presence in my stead. You have bestowed upon me a most priceless gift, and for this I have much gratitude.

Now the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration, along with author Paul Thigpen and Saint Benedict Press, have provided a road map to the interior life, and a tool to converse with the Living Christ among us. I most highly recommend the Manual for Eucharistic Adoration and, if you are not there already, the restoration of the Lord’s Presence in your interior life.

I humbly thank you for thirty-four years of priesthood, even out here on the dark peripheries from which I write. Without you, I might have forgotten how to be a priest, and might today be just a prisoner. There are two kneelers before the Blessed Sacrament at Saint Anselm Abbey Church in Manchester, New Hampshire. Some night when anxiety awakens you in the dark, join me there. I’ll have the Manual for Eucharistic Adoration in my hands.