Vigil of Our Adorable Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 62

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 62: "Meditate on the evil of My own... In the Sacrament of My Love I never sleep and I am never weary of My vigil for sinners."

There is something tender, almost startling, about the thought that while the whole world rests, Our Adorable Jesus does not sleep. Like a mother listening for the cry of her child or a doctor refusing to leave a patient in crisis, He keeps His gaze upon humanity from the tabernacle. This isn’t the restless tossing of someone drowning in worries. It’s the slow, waiting, made-flesh love of the triune God who chooses to stay up with the sinner. The light of every parish lamp burning through the night is a signal that Jesus is here, wide-eyed and waiting. He doesn’t forget us, even if we forget Him. Even if our hearts drift, His heart stays, and in that steadiness there is healing. We live in a culture that insists on getting things done, then falls over from exhaustion. How many people lie awake in secret anxieties, scrolling through phones, or weighed down by failures that no one else knows about? To them, the sleepless Lord whispers: You are not alone in your wakefulness. I too am awake, not to accuse, but to hold you through the night. His vigil is the truest companionship.

The saints intuited this mystery and lived as His companions in the night. St. Clare of Assisi would rise from her bed to keep watch before the Eucharist, seeing in Christ’s sleepless love the strength to embrace poverty with joy. St. John Vianney would spend hours in prayer, sometimes in the silence of night, until he was drowned by the truth that Jesus never grew tired of sinners. St. Padre Pio would offer intercession vigils, dripping with the care of souls that did not even know they needed mercy. The reason they were saints was not the long hours alone, but that they allowed the Savior’s wakefulness to reform their hearts. Their lives remind us that His vigil is not just for mystics or clergy. It is for students bent over books, for mothers pacing with restless infants, for workers returning home at dawn, for the elderly unable to find sleep in their loneliness. The tabernacle becomes their silent companion, proving that love without sleep is more than a poetic idea—it is Christ’s reality.He extends an invitation to not only awe but also to participate, even in modest but genuine ways.

Here lies the heart of the challenge today: Jesus remains awake, but often He keeps vigil alone. The busyness of our modern lives excuses us from lingering, yet love always requires presence. Pope Francis said that in the Eucharist, Christ waits to meet us personally, not abstractly (cf. Evangelii Gaudium). To visit Him is not an obligation but a gift of companionship. Even if not daily, could we not organize vigils—monthly, seasonally, or as a parish family—so He does not endure His sleepless watch in solitude? Imagine the beauty of different vocations uniting in this: teenagers taking a midnight hour, parents with young children offering an early evening, religious rising before dawn, elders filling the quiet spaces. These vigils, woven across time, become a living response to His Heart. And they are not simply for Him—they transform us. Along with listening to God, we also learn to listen to each other. Such vigils have the power to mend a fractured and restless society.

Keeping watch with Jesus does not mean filling silence with eloquent prayers. Sometimes that involves simply sitting there, exhausted and destitute, and allowing His restless gaze to linger upon us. At times, it entails presenting our diversions, our brokenness, and our despair and learning that He accepts them with compassion. What matters is that we are there. To share in His vigil is to let ourselves be drawn into the rhythm of His mercy. Families who spend even a short time before the Blessed Sacrament discover peace they could not generate on their own. Parishes that build Eucharistic vigils find that their community gains resilience, charity, and a new spirit of unity. Individuals who accompany Him discover courage to carry the hidden crosses of their lives. And even for those who cannot come often, the decision to organize occasional vigils says to Him: You are not forgotten. Your sleepless love is seen, and we want to be with You. In this, we give back a small drop of the ocean He pours out for us. And mysteriously, that small drop consoles His Heart.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, sleepless in the Sacrament of Love, let us not leave You alone in Your vigil. Teach our families, parishes, and hearts to pause, to watch, to love You back. May our simple hours of presence console You and renew us in Your unfailing mercy. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.