St. John of the Cross, Perpetual Adorer

Oh soul, most beautiful among all creatures,
you who so long to know the place
where your beloved is,
so as to seek him and become one with him,
now it has been stated:
you yourself are the home in which he dwells.
Here is a reason to be happy;
here is a cause for joy;
the realization that every blessing
and all you hope for
is so close to you as to be within you.
Be glad, find joy there,
gathered together
and present to him
who dwells within,
since he is so close to you;
desire him there,
adore him there,
and do not go off looking for him elsewhere.
There is just one thing:
even though he is within you,
he is hidden. – St. John of the Cross

Okay, I just couldn’t let St. John’s feast pass without a word.

This text quoted above contains the epicenter not only of St. John’s teaching, but of the whole Catholic spiritual tradition.

This is the mystery of mysteries in Christian life: God dwells in a Baptized body as nowhere else in the whole of creation. St. Paul says your body is a temple (1 Cor. 6:19). More specifically, he says your body is a naos, a “Holy of holies” in which God dwells. This is the same word Jesus uses to describe his own Body as a temple in John 2:19, 21:

Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple [naon], and in three days I will raise it up” … he was speaking of the temple [naou] of his body.

Sit with that thought for a moment, aware of this Indwelling. It’s overwhelming to think about its real meaning for too long.

Yet, this truth was the whole end game of God becoming human. In Mary’s womb, the holy Fire that once burned in the bush at a distance from Moses entered the human heart, forever. The furnace of divine love raging in Sacred Heart iconography is not just a symbol of Jesus’ prerogative. His Heart is to be our heart, and our heart is to be his Heart.

Nearest now to you, deep within, is God; nearer than you are to yourself. But are you with him?

You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.

An inadvertent and innocent danger of exaggerated Eucharistic devotions can be that we overly externalize Jesus’ presence as “out there” at a distance. We can think, “I normally live at miles’ distance from him, and so I must drive or walk to so I can finally be near to him again — after this period of absence.”

No!

Eucharistic Adoration, in its true majesty and magnificence, is given to speak to us in unceasing rhythms: “Seek me within you.” In Christ’s sacramental Presence, we sense the Song of Eucharistic origins: “Take, eat. Take, drink.” Christ consecrates to be consumed. In the Sacrament he yearns, desires, longs to enter more deeply into us, to intensify his union with us; to become more one Flesh, one Spirit with us.

To leave Adoration is to go away more aware of what St. Paul calls “the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col. 1:27). Only then can St. Augustine’s words about the Eucharist become real: “Behold who you are, become what you receive.” In the early Church, the Eucharist was called the “mystical Body of Christ,” and the Church was the “real Body of Christ.” Joined to all his other members, you are Christ’s real Body, made so in Baptism, sealed so in Confirmation, consummated so in Communion.

You are a living, walking tabernacle of the Most High God.

To see things this way at once makes you more disposed to greet Christ everywhere around you, in the innumerable and oftentimes unlikeliest of temples. All the while remembering that everywhere he is still hidden in mystery, waiting to surprise us, to shatter our assumptions, unveiling his Face anew in each moment.

The early 20th century British mystic Caryll Houselander tasted this on her way to work one day:

Quite suddenly, I saw with my mind, but as vividly as a wonderful picture, Christ in them all. But I saw more than that; not only was Christ in every one of them, living in them, dying in them, rejoicing in them, sorrowing in them – but because he was in them, and because they were here, the whole world was here in this underground train, not only the world as it was at that moment, not only all the people in the countries of the world, but all those yet to come. I came out into the street and walked for a long time in the crowds. It was the same here, on every side, in every passerby – Christ.

Like St. John, live this day this way, and when you next go to Eucharistic Adoration tell Jesus all about your new sightings of him. Within, and without.

Oh, Living Flame of Love
Tenderly wound my soul
To its deepest inner heart
Without oppression!

Come consumate our love
Tear through the veil of our union
If it be your will, come and rend
The veil of the temple!

Oh, lamps of fire
In deep caverns of feeling
Once obscured and blind
Are now leading
In the warmth and the passion
Of your love
(x2)

Yet gently Your hand does wound
As You rend through the veil of my temple
Come and take this life that I give
So that I might come to live in this our dying

Oh, Living Flame of Love
Tenderly wound my soul
To its deepest inner heart
Without oppression! — St. John of the Cross