Holy Thursday
Evening Mass of
the Lord’s Supper
Dear brothers and sisters,
J.R.R. Tolkien once wrote to his son
Michael of the great importance and centrality of the Holy Eucharist. In doing
so, the author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings referred
to a poem by Francis Thompson comparing the love of God to a hound who continually
chases after him. Tolkien said, “Not for me the Hound of Heaven, but the
never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle, and the sense of starving hunger.”[1]
Of course, by speaking of the “never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle,”
Tolkien did not mean the golden box in our churches, but rather that cherished
treasure housed therein: the Blessed Sacrament of the Altar.
Who of us has not also experienced this
sense of starving hunger for the Bread of Life and the Chalice of Salvation?
Though we may have taken the gift of the Eucharist for granted in the past, our
longing and yearning for it has, in these past few weeks, been heightened and
we have become perhaps more aware of our need for Holy Communion, both with the
Lord and with one another.
Particularly on this day, Holy Thursday of
the Lord’s Supper, the never-ceasing silent appeal of Tabernacle stirs in our
hearts all the more because on this day we participate in that Last Supper in
which the Lord Jesus, who,
on the night he
was betrayed, … loving those who were his own in the world even to the end,
offered his body and blood to the Father under the appearances of bread and
wine, gave them to the apostles to eat and drink, then enjoined the apostles
and their successors in the priesthood to offer them in turn.[2]
What the Church believes about the Holy
Eucharist has hit home to us quite deeply because we have not been able to
gather at the altar of the Lord. We have come to realize in a profound way that
it is from the Eucharist that we draw “the fullness of charity and of life.”[3]
Perhaps the Lord is inviting us in these
days – and especially tonight - to quiet ourselves, to be still, and to allow
his never-ceasing silent appeal to stir us from our spiritual sloth to a greater
and more intentional devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. Perhaps he is inviting
us to recognize our starving hunger for him in a way that normal fasting could
not bring about. On this night, church bells will fall silent, but the
tabernacle will not. Let us attune the ears of our hearts to its call and draw
near to him at the altar of our hearts.
As a man deeply devoted to the Eucharist,
Tolkien knew well the power hidden within such a humble appearance. He also
knew that the Eucharist calls us to live in the fullness of charity and life.
He said to his son, “But I fell in love with the Blessed Sacrament from the
beginning – and by the mercy of God never have fallen out again: but alas! I
indeed did not live up to it.”[4]
Although we draw from the Eucharist the
fullness of charity and of life to which we are called as members of the Body
of Christ, we do not always live up to the Eucharist; strengthened by the gift
of the Lord himself, we do not always imitate his selfless service of others
and make of ourselves an offering to God the Father.
The Sacred Triduum this year will be
celebrated and observed in a most curious fashion, one that none of us would
have asked for, but this does not mean divine grace will be absent or lacking;
indeed, the Lord may yet surprise us with how his grace may touch our hearts. Let
us, then, this night, recognize our starving hunger for him and hear his
continual call of love that he may feed us with his love. Let us open our
hearts to him who allowed his heart to be opened to us. Amen.
[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, Letter to Michael
Tolkien, 1 November 1963. In The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, Humphrey
Carpenter and Christopher Tolkien, eds. (Boston, Massachusetts: Houghton
Mifflin Company, 2000), 340.
[2] Ceremonial of Bishops, 297.
[3] Roman Missal, Collect
for Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper.
[4] J.R.R. Tolkien, ibid.
