I recently visited the Boston area to bury my mother, who passed away in October. On the Sunday morning of her memorial reception, I attended Mass in a suburb.
When I went to the parish nearest where I was staying, I could not find the tabernacle. I had no idea in what direction to genuflect when I took my seat. It was only after the Consecration, when someone went into a darkened chapel along the side to get some of the reserved Sacrament, that I saw where it He was.
At the end of Mass, I went to the darkened chapel to pray the Rosary before the Tabernacle and poured out my gratitude for Christ’s physical presence there. Continue reading