Head Stuck in the Tabernacle

My friend recently told me this story about the great Doctor of the Church, St. Thomas Aquinas. One night, he was writing something about the Eucharist, and he went into the chapel. He opened the tabernacle doors and looked inside. The next day his fellow Dominican friars found him with his head stuck in the tabernacle. 

This could very well be a legend, by the way. But I've often heard that Thomas at least rested his head on the tabernacle while pondering his Summa Theologiae. Regardless of how dramatic the story was, Thomas witnessed to us that his writings were always subordinate to a greater truth: God Incarnate.

First Communion, First Encounter

My First Communion was full of blessings. My father and godfather played the music and the priest who celebrated my parents' wedding concelebrated. My mother and I chose my dress from the Philippines the year before. Most of the Mass is a fuzzy memory at this point (naturally, after almost 20 years). But I remember clearly the Communion meditation. My brothers, who sang in the Archdiocesan Boy Choir at the time, sang "Panis Angelicus." I remember a clarity and true belief in the Eucharist. I also had so much emotion that by the end I was in tears (pictured below).

 

I don't say this to claim I was some type of holy child, but that my faith was blessed since I was surrounded and supported by family. I don't think I would have had such a profound experience if not for their education, participation, and most of all, prayers. I still remember my parents taking me and my brothers with them to Mass from a very young age, even when all I could do was squirm and color my Bible story coloring books. I remember how solemn in prayer they were during the consecration, even when I tried to tug on them for attention. It was my parents' faith in the Real Presence that allowed me to encounter Christ from childhood.

Doubt and Consolation

In high school, I was still pretty obsessed with the Eucharist. At times I unfortunately felt pretty out of place for being Catholic (even though I went to a Catholic high school). I would occasionally sneak out of lunch just to sit in our chapel and pray. It brought my great peace to know that the Eucharist was present in my school.

But it wasn't all rosy between me and God at the time. I kept reading the Bread of Life Discourse from John 6 and feeling concerned. As I explained a bit in my previous post, my issue wasn't my own belief, but Jesus' allowance of letting the disciples walk away. Now I better understand and accept that God gives us free will. But really grappling with John 6 allowed me to have a deeper understanding and love of the Real Presence.

Departure and Way of the Cross

In March 2020, my fellow missionaries and I had to leave Belize in order to avoid the shutdown of the airport. At the time, I already knew that Masses were suspended in the U.S. So the morning of our departure, I knew it would be the last Mass I attended for a long time. My dear friend asked me if I wanted to sing "O Sacred Head Surrounded" as the last thing we sang together in Belize. It was one of the most bittersweet Masses for me, singing one of my favorite pieces under rather grim circumstances.

The few months we spent without the Eucharist until summer were a time of darkness and emptiness. I remember it as pretty difficult. I came to appreciate spiritual communion more, but it was still only a shadow of the Real Thing. It gave me a greater appreciation for Catholicism. There's such a physicality and tangibility to our faith, particularly in the sacraments. The Mass still isn't the Mass over Zoom. You can't administer absolution over Skype. And while this is inconvenient in the pandemic, the sacraments demonstrate to us the reality of our faith.