The hope of Christ the King

“¿Se emocionó?” Padre German asked me after today’s celebration of the feast of Christ the King in the parish. “Did you get emotional, while carrying the monstrance through the crowd after the Mass for Christ the King in Dolores, Copán.

I didn’t answer, but he was right. I was touched deeply.

A custom here is to have a procession of the Eucharist in a monstrance on some occasions, especially here in our parish after the Mass for the feast of Christ the King. During the procession, people approach and touch the monstrance, seeking a physical connection with Christ.

I must admit that I have often been a bit skeptical about this aspect of the popular piety here, but today change that for me.

Toward the end of Mass, Padre German asked me if I wanted to carry the monstrance. I said that he should go first and then I would relieve him.

He started the procession through the crowd and I followed. At one point a little kid stood on a chair and reached out and touched the monstrance. He then turned around and gave me a hug. Emerson reached out a second time and I caught it in a photo.

I followed the monstrance, at time trying to open up a space for people who wanted to approach the monstrance but, because of the crowd or because they were a little timid, had a hard time getting close.

Padre then passed the monstrance to me and I continued the procession.

As they pressed on the monstrance, I could feel a deep longing for God. I also felt that they were bringing their suffering to Christ and sought his comfort and courage. I saw little kids reaching out – sometimes without the urging of their parents. I saw one short older woman approaching and bent down so she could be close to the luna where the host is placed. I sensed a deep desire to connect and so brought it closer to her and she kissed it.

I was floored, at times close to tears. So many, suffering so much, seek to touch God.

It was humbling, seeing their faith – babies in arms, older women and men, kids, adolescents, and young people.

As I think back this evening, I see this as a call to deepen my diaconal presence among them. How can I share in their pain and suffering, as well as their joys? How can I help them recognize the presence of a loving and tender God among them? How can I accompany them, opening them (and me) to the dignity we have and our mission to show forth the reign of Christ in a world full of all too much pain, suffering, poverty, injustice?

As if to ratify this, as I sat at home at the computer, I heard it raining, but I looked out and the sun was shining to the south of the house. I went upstairs and looked east – to see a rainbow which started in a nearby valley.

There is hope – the Eucharist, the people suffering, and a rainbow make that clear.