A HIDDEN LIFE (Corpus Christi 2026)

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A bold boy sitting at the back of an empty church when he should be at school. A complex, troubled boy who is threatened with the industrial school because he mitches and doesn’t do his homework. The teacher said he was a house angel and street devil. But to himself he was simply afraid and didn’t know how to explain it.

So, he took daily refuge in the empty church, feeling that Jesus hidden in the Tabernacle somehow understood what no one else did, the thing that could not be put into words.

That was me when I was ten years old. It is not me now, but I still possess the gift that was given me in adversity, a strong relationship with the hidden life of Jesus in the Tabernacle.

St. Vincent Pallotti places great emphasis on the hidden life of Jesus in Nazareth, the life he lived away from public view from the age of twelve until He began His public ministry. The Tabernacle is my Nazareth.

Forty years ago during a thirty-day Ignatian retreat, while praying before the Tabernacle in the middle of the night, I had a very strong physical sensation like a magnetic force, pulling me towards the Tabernacle, a pull that I resisted with all my might because there were others present and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. So, I held on to the pew with all my might. My director was concerned that I might be unstable but, by the Grace of God, she allowed me to continue with the retreat rather than sending me packing.

I was in a fairly fragile state at the time and in such times, I have been prone to something like hallucinations. Back to the age of ten, I once thought I saw a large luminous Cross in the sky. It rotated and became a moving statue of the Sacred Heart of Jesus who looked at me and pointed his finger towards me. It wasn’t objectively real, but my good friend Sr. Shirley MMM said that it was real for me, that I actually experienced it. So, I accept that.

Years later again, while praying before the Tabernacle in a church in Rome, while thinking about my own identity, I got a very clear sense of a voice saying to me that my true identity is hidden with Jesus in the Eucharist in the Tabernacle. It is not a secretive thing, but it is that in that place I am most truly myself and most perfectly understood, without explanation.

This relationship is strong and it is my preferred way of praying. From time-to-time people tell me I should do more adoration before the Blessed Sacrament exposed, because this is where real miracles take place. And it is something I do when Adoration takes place in public. But I am reluctant to open the Tabernacle just for myself. The closed doors are not a barrier for me but a reminder of a very precious mystery that is not mine to use at will.

To open the door of the Tabernacle is an awesome thing that I take quite seriously, and I always feel unworthy of opening. I wrote this some time back in Hastings:

O Lord of Mercy

Who am I?

That I should open
The door
Of the Tabernacle

Take You
In my hands

Place You
On the altar

Expose You
To the gaze

Of hungry souls

Who am I
That I should utter
Hollow words


Of adoration
Praise
Gratitude


When nothing
On this earth
Could ever express

The Majesty
The Mystery

Who am I
That You should choose
To anoint me
To be totally Yours

And stand in Your place
At Your altar
To utter the sacred
Words of Consecration

And somehow bring
Your presence to life

Your Passion
Your Rising

Salvation
For Your People

O Lord of Mercy
I am not worthy 

We come then to this year’s Feast of Corpus Christi when we are promoting Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament exposed. The Diocesan Apostolate of Adoration came to speak at all the Masses, and they got a fairly good response, with people committing themselves to an hour of Adoration a week. 

At the end of Mass we had a simple Eucharistic Procession, carrying the Blessed Sacrament down the centre aisle, out the main door and doing a full circle of the church grounds. It was beautiful, with children going ahead scattering petals along the path of Jesus, the choir following behind, with the congregation behind them again. 

We would pause occasionally and at one stage a young boy stood gazing up at Jesus in the monstrance, the same boy who knelt a long time before the Altar of Repose on Holy Thursday. And I am reminded of the child’s capacity for mystery, for dimensions beyond the ordinary.

Coming back into the empty church, it was beautiful to hear the echo of singing gradually filling the place. The elders among us were reminded of former times when Corpus Christ processions were glorious and grand in scale. And, while it was wonderful to see the throngs of people with Pope Leo in Eucharistic procession in Madrid, ours was no less important. It was true and we were blessed.

 

 


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