This Sunday, as I spend time before the Blessed Sacrament on the feast of Corpus Christi, I will think back to a time when I found myself doubting the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

Concerned, no doubt, about my spiritual welfare, someone sent me a book about Eucharistic miracles. It worked. Not only did the accounts dispel my doubts, but they also transformed me. I had been a Catholic who just goes to Mass weekly. Now I became a person who lived the Eucharist — the source and summit of the Christian life — every day.

Over the past two and a half years, this renewed commitment to my faith has included weekly Eucharistic adoration. With only a few exceptions, I have visited Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament each week ever since. But, even though adoration has by now become part of my normal routine, my quiet time with the Lord will have special meaning on this great feast of the Body and Blood of Our Lord.

The Gospel reading to be used that day will recount the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper. The passage reminds us of the awesomeness of the gift Christ gives us at every Mass. We're so accustomed to hearing the words of consecration spoken by the celebrant, but do we recognize their impact?

I'm thinking specifically about how beautifully and brilliantly Christ uses the humble liturgy to fulfill his promise: “I am with you always, until the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20).

And I think of the apostles. They ran scared the next day — but, later on in their lives, they suffered the horrors of martyrdom rather than deny that Jesus is the Christ. They had hope in their hearts and proof on their altars.

What a great and mysterious gift God gave that night — and gives at every Mass! Yet, regardless of when I come to visit Jesus, few people are there. It is too often just the two of us. Still, I am grateful the flexibility of my schedule affords me this great privilege each week. As I think about this, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by Christ's peace — and unworthy to be in his presence.

I often meditate on this Gospel reading at adoration. It reminds me that, although every visit may not feel fruitful, I am not alone in my weakness. Christ's own apostles failed him on their first holy hour.

They couldn't stay awake and pray with Jesus. They couldn't honor his request to “keep watch with me.” Sacred Scripture records how they fell asleep. I am reminded that, on occasions, I, too, have dozed off at times before the Blessed Sacrament. By faithfully going to adoration, I can make up for the times I have been there in body but not in spirit.

Peter, our first pope, denied he even knew Christ three times. Yet Jesus called him a “rock” and picked him to lead the Church. As I recall all this, I pray for the man who now sits in the chair of Peter.

And I pray: Jesus, by not reaching out to others in need, how often have I denied you? Lord, truly present on the altar, forgive me for times I have not done what I could have done for others. Forgive me for the times I have been judgmental or harsh when viewing the actions of others. Help me to love them as you love me.

This feast of Corpus Christi, will you take the opportunity to recommit your life to Christ — and to renew your love for the sacrament of his body and blood? Can you spend an hour a week with him?

Bill Zalot writes

from Levittown, Pennsylvania.