Today at Mass, our priest and a few parishioners put out a call for volunteers. We have a few empty spots in the weekly Eucharistic Adoration schedule.
We’re going to do it: Mark and I decided to commit to one hour a week between us. We asked to be given either 5 a.m., 6 a.m., or 7 a.m. on a week day. The kids are sleeping then. We figure that we can take turns, and that on Mark’s turn he can just leave from there to go to work, while on my turn I can make it back in time for him to leave from work.
When we needed to find a new parish, I started with a list of local parishes that keep perpetual-adoration chapels (do it yourself here). We planned to work down the list in order of distance from our house, but we fell in love with the nearest one, and that’s where we joined. I had hoped that the Eucharist exposed twenty-four hours a day would be the sign to us of a parish with great love and reverence for the Lord’s body and blood. And so it is.
You can read here about the history of this practice. Basically, our parish keeps a tiny chapel unlocked 24 hours a day, with access to a bathroom but not to the rest of the church. (The chapel can be locked from the inside.) Inside the chapel are about a dozen chairs and a couple of kneelers.
At the front hangs a crucifix on the wall and below it on a marble table is a monstrance, also called an ostensorium. This is a stand specially made to display the Blessed Sacrament. A host consecrated at the most recent Mass is placed in the center opening.
This Host is the source of our spiritual life, as the sun is the source of our biological life, so "the most appropriate form [of the monstrance] is that of the sun emitting its rays to all sides."
.
.
In order to maintain a perpetual adoration chapel, volunteers must be present at all times. We cannot leave the Lord’s Body and Blood unsupervised; it may seem strange, but there are indeed people who would harm this small white Host. So we require around three hundred volunteers: most to commit to stay with Him a weekly hour, some to serve as substitutes. Most of the slots are filled, but the middle of the night can be hard to fill up. I suppose that some of the adorers are doing double and triple duty to keep the chapel open until more folks volunteer.
What do you do in front of the Sacrament? Some meditate, some pray, some read Scripture, some just sit in God’s presence. I try, whenever I am driving in the neighborhood, to stop in, even for a few minutes.
I bring my children in every once in a while. I usher them into this tiny room where one or two people sit or kneel quietly. They know to kneel down when we first go in. Oscar, age five, knows that this is a special chapel and an especially good place to pray. He stands on one of the kneelers and whispers intently, his brow furrowed. When he is done, after just a few minutes, we get up and quietly, quietly, slip out.
I don’t dare stay longer; I want to take them out before they have had enough. I want them to remember only the Eucharist in its golden throne, reverence and silence, and being trusted and allowed as children to enter this important-feeling, grown-up feeling, special place. Neither has ever misbehaved in the chapel.
My times in the chapel are always so short. I am looking forward to having a whole hour to spend before Him, twice a month. I am thrilled that my husband will be doing the same.
bearing blog 