How Much Does He Love You? – Good Friday
Two summers ago, when working at The Pines Catholic Camp, I received a beautiful gift and grace from God that affirmed and confirmed my belief in Jesus’ presence in the Holy Eucharist. I was at a daily Mass one evening, and when I went up to receive the Precious Blood, I couldn’t see anything in the Chalice – the inside of the chalices at camp are gold-ish, and white wine had been consecrated. Thinking that, as had been the case the two daily Masses previous, only a tiny bit of the Precious Blood was left, I started tilting it before the whole weight was in my hand. It was full to the brim.
I spilled His Blood. It got on my face… on the floor… later I noticed a huge splotch on my t-shirt (which, ironically, had a Monstrance on it with the word Eucharist… God has a sense of humor!). I didn’t know what to do…
My mind filled with stories I’d read about when the Eucharist had fallen on the floor and how it was mourned, reverenced… Later, the Extraordinary Minister came to me. He saw I was very upset, and tried to calm me down, telling me I was alright; it wasn’t a sin – only an accident that could have happened to anyone. He told me to change shirts and rinse this one at an outside faucet, so the Savior’s Blood would run into the earth. I did as he said, and later the priest found me outside at the faucet washing my shirt with water and tears.
His compassion was that of a saint. He gently put his hand on my shoulder and asked me, “How much does He love you?”
All I could think to say was, “Enough to spill His Blood for me.”
Father smiled, and nodded.
Many weeks later, I was looking at a crucifix and thinking about that day. My own devotion to Mary had been growing in those weeks, and as I thought of her standing at the foot of the Cross with her Son, another image came to me. Up until this point, I’d always thought of myself as standing at a distance and watching her watching Jesus die. This time, though, she reached out for me, and brought me to the foot of the Cross with her. Looking up at Christ, His Precious Blood streamed down his legs and feet, and dripped off onto His holy mother’s face and clothes. This time, though, I was standing with her, and His Blood fell on me, too.
I came to realize many profound things from that one night in the humble Chapel at camp. Not only had Mary invited me deeper into the Passion of her Son as her companion, she had allowed me to share in her sorrow at the death of her Son. When I tilted that little chalice a bit too far, Jesus invited me deeper into the mystery of His Presence on the Blessed Sacrament. I spilled His Blood. It was my sins that sent Him to the Cross, but He also gave me a tangible experience that brought me to a much deeper love and appreciation for His Love and Sacrifice.