I went with my friend Jeremy to St. Patrick’s Catholic Church,
and paid a visit to the sanctuary containing the ostensorium of the Most
Blessed Sacrament. It is open twenty-four hours to anyone who wishes to pray,
meditate, and reflect. Jeremy had a code that enabled us to access the room. We
walked in the room and knelt, careful not to disturb the elderly man meditating
up at the front. My friend and I shuffled into the pew, and knelt on the bench.
Jeremy began to pray next me, and it was there that I beheld the Blessed Host.
I sat in silence; waiting, watching, gazing.
The room itself is quite small. It was built
for solitude (quite similar to a grotto, both in terms of how it feels, and its
simplicity). Looking up at the back of the room, there were two objects that
really caught my attention. The first was the Paschal Candle, symbolizing the
presence of Christ. The second was the ostensorium containing the Most Blessed
Host. The ostensorium itself is rather spectacular. I am not entirely sure
about the materials used to make the ostensorium, but it really is quite a
remarkable thing to behold. Its overall shape resembles that of a cross. At its
center is the Host. Surrounding the Host are sharp sun-like rays. These rays
are made out of silver and gold materials. It is also bejewelled, and consists
of ruby coloured stones. At the top of the ostensorium is a small, elaborate, crucifix.
I find it interesting how the host is so plain, yet it is contained in a vessel
that is so exquisite. Perhaps this is supposed to help us reflect on the
paradoxical nature of Jesus Christ, the king of kings among the “least of
these”, as represented by the regal quality of the ostensorium and the
simplicity of the Host. Nevertheless, my gaze kept shifting from the
ostensorium to the Paschal Candle. I found it difficult to really concentrate
on the ostensorium because the Paschal Candle had always been the object of
mystery. The presence of Christ alive in the flame had always had an effect on
my imagination. The flame dancing from side to side, delighting in its mystery,
was spellbinding. Indeed, the flame was evocative of my childhood, especially my
first memories of the Mass. I had always been enchanted by Jesus’ presence in
the Paschal Candle. In a sense, it was a direct experience of the sacred. At
that present moment, however, I was trying deliberately to bring my gaze back
to the ostensorium. The light was shining down upon it, and I could feel a
sense of equanimity beginning to emerge from the confines of my mind. Indeed,
it was my sensorium responding to the beauty of the moment, as I knelt, gazing
at the Blessed Host.
After
several minutes, we decided that we had had enough of kneeling, and so we sat
down in the pew. We sat there for quite some time. As I was gazing, my mind
fluttered from thought to thought. My mind wandered to other places, and I
thought of this lovely lady who I had earlier serenaded by the fountain on
campus under the light of the moon. It appears the sacred has a way of
revealing itself indirectly, and this was a perfect example of how one
manifestation of the sacred accounts for another in the unconscious mind. Or
perhaps I was merely allowing my mind to drift, and what I really needed was
some more practice of the sacred gaze, in order to really be present in the
practice of beholding. I spent some more time gazing at the ostensorium. At
that point, I decided to pray, and I spent some time just reflecting and
contemplating on the mystery at hand. We later decided to leave. It was a
special time, and I am glad to have had that experience.
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