The tabernacle at Holy Trinity Church in Gainesville
Photo: The Arlington Catholic Herald Notebook
Every church in Ireland has a box-shaped receptacle, of gold or silver, often decorated with precious jewels. In years past this special container was placed in the centre of the ‘high altar’, but now it’s usually on its own, on a separate column or plinth, with its own spotlight, in its own distinct space, very clearly identified and obvious. A light burning nearby marks the spot – often red, the colour of love.
It’s wonderful how beautifully-kept this vessel is: we call it the Tabernacle. And it is appropriate that the Tabernacle receives such honour, for here God lives among the people, under the form of the sacred Bread of Life.
Storehouse
Liturgists tell us that this container has two functions. It is not, they remind us, a storehouse for large quantities of hosts, since hosts should be freshly consecrated for every Mass. It is to be the place where Communion is reserved for the sick and dying, and for the quiet prayer of the people.
Catholics have always had a devotion to the Lord, present in the tabernacle. People who enter a Catholic church note where the tabernacle is, and genuflect on one knee before it, whenever they pass nearby. While in the church, people often address their prayers there, laying their worries in Jesus’ care. For centuries, the ‘Visit to the Blessed Sacrament’ was a part of Catholic devotion, with people dropping in to the church when passing, to say ‘hello’ to the Lord and ask for divine assistance. Quiet adoration happened in every church, every day, without fuss or effort — yet effectively.
Then something changed. It was as if this quiet adoration was not enough. Some wanted the Blessed Sacrament taken from the tabernacle and displayed, visibly, in a monstrance, in solemn, perpetual, adoration. Was the quiet presence in the tabernacle insufficient? Was the visual needed as well? Perhaps the idea came from Heaven, or from a vision, or perhaps some people just needed to see the one they prayed to.
Some have answered the call to solemn adoration and have had meaningful prayer experiences”
Once this idea gained currency, changes had to be made. Premises had to be provided for this solemn adoration, with former baptisteries or mortuaries being converted, heated and lit. Then people had to be found to keep this solemn adoration running, with the suggestion of each giving an hour to prayer. Some priests had another item added to their daily schedule, exposing and reposing. Security was a consideration also.
The end result was that some churches ended up with two locations for the Blessed Sacrament, in the tabernacle to be quietly adored by the Faithful, and in the adoration room, to be solemnly adored. The child who asked “mammy, are there two Jesuses?” was told to be quiet!
I wonder if having two venues for prayer to the Blessed Sacrament in the Church has been for the best. Undoubtedly, some have answered the call to solemn adoration and have had meaningful prayer experiences as a result. Others may well wonder whether the demands resulting from solemn adoration have been excessive, and whether they can be sustained.
For me, either way of praying is good.
Sometimes, though, the old ways are best.
***
A Prayer before the Cross (for Lent, or any time)
Jesus, I kiss the crown that rests upon your head, that sacred crown you bore for my sins and the sins of the world.
I kiss your hands that bore the nails of the cross, and I ask you to place those healing hands on the sick who asked me to pray for them.
I kiss your side that was pierced by a lance and from which flowed water and blood, and I pray that like a tsunami, it would wash away all my sins.
I kiss your feet that bore the nails of the cross, and I ask you to allow me to place my head gently on them, so that you can feel the touch of human flesh.
Jesus, as you look down from the cross at your mother Mary and St John, I ask you to glance mercifully at this sinner who is trying to repent of his sins.
Jesus, I trust in you.
– Composed by a lay Catholic who lives in Douglas, Cork