Divine Appeal Reflection - 169
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 169: "By means of My Presence in the Blessed Sacrament repair whenever you see Me"
Reparation begins with a sacred question: when we behold Our Adorable Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, do we see only the Host—or the hidden Love who gazes back at us? (cf. Jn 6:51–58; CCC 1374). The eyes see a small Host, silent and apparently powerless. Faith sees the living Christ, whole and present, giving Himself in love (cf. Jn 6:51–58; CCC 1373–1377). The Appeal invites us into a profound Eucharistic response: whenever we come before Jesus, we should not remain merely spectators. We are called to repair through His Presence. Reparation is not an attempt to improve Christ, for the risen Lord is eternally glorious and cannot be diminished in His divinity. Rather, it is the loving response of the Church to the wounds caused by sin, unbelief, indifference, sacrilege, and rejection. The soul stands before the Eucharistic Christ and says through its love: “Where love has been refused, let me love; where gratitude has disappeared, let me adore; where people have forgotten You, let me remember.” Scripture offers a unique image in Phinehas, whose zeal interrupted a destructive movement among the people (cf. Num 25:1–13). While the Christian understanding of reparation is never violence, the spiritual principle is striking: when sin spreads, someone must stand before God with a heart that refuses to become indifferent. Another beautiful biblical image is Ezra,(cf. Ezra 9:1–15) who grieved, prayed, and confessed before God over the sins of the people . He did not excuse evil, but neither did he stand proudly outside the community as though he had no connection with its wounds. This is the beginning of Eucharistic reparation: not saying, “Look how sinful they are,” but asking, “Jesus, how can I love You here?” A woman entering a church may see an empty sanctuary and choose to remain for ten minutes in adoration. A priest may bring the wounds of a difficult day before the tabernacle; a student may pause at a church and kneel briefly before Our Adorable Jesus instead of passing by (cf. Mt 11:28–29; Ps 62:1–2). An exhausted worker may spend a few minutes before Jesus instead of allowing fatigue to become complaint. These acts appear small, but love changes their meaning. The deeper mystery is this: Jesus does not ask the soul merely to feel sorry for sin. He invites the soul to let sorrow become adoration, adoration become love, and love become self-gift for others (cf. Rom 12:1; 2 Cor 5:14–15). Reparation before the Blessed Sacrament is not merely a devotion; it is an encounter in which Christ quietly repairs the soul that comes seeking to repair (cf. Ps 147:3; Jn 15:4–5).
The words “whenever you see Me” contain another mystical depth: the Eucharistic encounter should awaken a response every time Christ is consciously approached. Familiarity can become one of the greatest dangers in spiritual life. A priest may handle sacred things daily and gradually lose astonishment. A sacristan may prepare the altar as a routine task. A religious may pass the chapel several times each day without interiorly pausing. A Catholic may receive Holy Communion frequently while becoming less attentive to the greatness of the Gift. The mystery of reparation begins again when the soul recovers holy astonishment. Consider Jacob(cf. Gen 28:10–17) at Bethel. He discovered that a place he had considered ordinary was mysteriously filled with the presence of God . His awakening changed his awareness of the ground beneath him. Likewise, the Eucharistic soul gradually discovers that the church is not merely a building and the tabernacle not merely an object, but a sacred dwelling where Our Adorable Jesus remains truly present among His people . Someone is there. This awareness can change everything. Consider also Moses before the burning bush,(cf. Ex 3:1–6) who was commanded to recognise the holiness of the place because of the divine Presence . The bush itself remained a creature, but God's presence transformed the encounter. In the Eucharistic mystery, the Christian encounters something incomparably greater: Christ is truly and substantially present under the sacramental signs (cf. CCC 1374–1377). A farm worker, a cleaner, a child, a prisoner, or an elderly person can adore. The practical question becomes: What happens inside me when I realise that I am before Jesus? Perhaps I stop scrolling through my phone before entering the church. Perhaps I arrive a few minutes early for Mass. Perhaps I make a reverent genuflection rather than moving mechanically. Perhaps I spend one minute after Communion in conscious thanksgiving. Perhaps I visit the church during an ordinary weekday. Reparation is often the recovery of attentiveness. Indifference wounds love, while attention consoles love. The mystical soul does not seek extraordinary emotions every time it sees the Eucharist. It seeks fidelity. Some days the heart will feel devotion; other days it may feel dry. But love can remain. A mother does not cease loving her child because she is tired. Likewise, the soul can kneel before the tabernacle and say, “Jesus, I have little feeling today, but I have come.” This is already a profound act of reparation. The greatest consolation we can offer Christ may sometimes be simply refusing to treat His Presence as ordinary.
The deepest form of Eucharistic reparation, however, is not confined to the chapel. The soul that adores Christ in the Blessed Sacrament must gradually learn to repair the wounds of Christ's Body in the world. The Eucharist cannot authentically lead us into adoration while leaving us indifferent to the suffering of human beings (cf. 1 Cor 11:17–29; CCC 1397). St Paul confronted a Christian community whose Eucharistic celebration was contradicted by divisions and neglect of the poor. This is a frightening lesson: it is possible to approach the altar while failing to recognise the consequences of Christ's presence in the lives of others. The Appeal therefore opens an apostolic dimension of reparation. A person leaves adoration and encounters a lonely neighbour. The love offered before the tabernacle must become patience at the neighbour's door. A nurse receives Christ at Mass and later encounters a difficult patient. Reparation may mean treating that patient with dignity when nobody is watching. A businessman may adore Our Adorable Jesus and then correct an employee’s costly mistake without humiliating him; a priest may leave the tabernacle and welcome a wounded sinner with Christ’s mercy in confession (cf. Col 3:12–13; Lk 15:20–24). A priest spends time before the Blessed Sacrament and then meets a wounded sinner in confession. Reparation may mean allowing the tenderness of Christ to shape his words. A young person participates in Benediction and later sees a classmate being mocked. Reparation may mean refusing to laugh and courageously protecting the humiliated person. Consider the unusual biblical figure Boaz,(cf. Ruth 2:8–16; 4:13–17) who used his position not to exploit the vulnerable Ruth but to protect her dignity and future . His ordinary acts became instruments of God's providence. Consider Ebed-melech, (cf. Jer 38:7–13) the foreigner who courageously intervened to rescue Jeremiah when others had abandoned him . He recognised suffering and acted. These figures reveal that reparation has hands. It does not remain only in sentiment. St Marianne Cope carried compassionate care into places where fear caused others to withdraw. St Alberto Hurtado asked Christians to recognise Christ's call within the social wounds surrounding them. Their lives teach that Eucharistic devotion must become Eucharistic availability. We repair before Jesus so that we may stop increasing the wounds around us. We repair by refusing gossip. We repair by reconciling relationships. We repair by paying workers honestly. We repair by protecting children. We repair by visiting the forgotten. We repair by refusing corruption. We repair by treating the poor as persons rather than inconveniences. Thus, a profound mystery emerges: the soul that kneels before the Eucharistic Christ eventually becomes a small place of repair wherever it stands. (cf. Mt 25:31–46; Jas 2:14–17).
There is also a hidden and very personal reparation: allowing Christ to repair the damage within our own hearts. Reparation is not merely offering for the sins of others. Before the Blessed Sacrament, Christ’s light must also expose what remains wounded within us. We may grieve over the world’s unbelief while secretly withholding forgiveness, forgetting that the first altar of reparation is our own heart (cf. Mt 5:23–24; 1 Jn 1:9). A priest may grieve over irreverence toward the Eucharist while allowing pride to harden his own heart. A religious may pray for the conversion of sinners while nurturing resentment against a member of her community. A parent may pray for a child's return to God while communicating anger more often than tenderness. The Eucharistic Christ invites us to bring the world's wounds before Him, but He also asks us not to hide our own wounds behind religious activity. Consider King Asa,(cf. 2 Chr 14:1–15; 16:1–12) who began with faithfulness but later struggled to maintain the same dependence upon God . His story warns that a good beginning does not remove the need for continual conversion. Consider Naaman, who expected God's healing to occur according to his own preferences and initially resisted the humble means offered to him (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1–14). His healing required humility. Before the Eucharist, the soul discovers that Christ often heals through humble steps: confession, apology, restitution, reconciliation, spiritual guidance, abandoning harmful habits, seeking help, and admitting our wrongs . Blessed Charles de Foucauld embraced radical surrender, (cf. Lk 9:23; Gal 2:20) allowing Christ to transform even the hidden foundations of his life . Their witness suggests a mystical paradox: the person who comes to repair may discover that he himself is the broken vessel Christ wants to mend. This is not humiliation. It is mercy. The Eucharist does not expose us in order to shame us but to draw us more deeply into communion (cf. Jn 13:1–17; CCC 1391–1395). A powerful act of reparation may therefore be a sincere confession after years of postponement. It may be returning stolen money. It may be apologising to someone we wounded. It may be ending a hidden relationship that is destroying a marriage. It may be asking for help with addiction. We cannot genuinely offer Christ our love while deliberately protecting what contradicts His love. Reparation begins with adoration, but it reaches fulfilment when the adoring soul allows Christ to rearrange its life.
Finally, the highest mystical secret of this Appeal is that Christ allows us to enter His own work of repairing the world through love. The Cross is the supreme revelation of this mystery. Jesus does not answer humanity's sin with greater violence. He enters the consequences of human sin with redeeming love (cf. Isa 53:4–12; 1 Pet 2:21–25). The Eucharist makes present sacramentally the sacrifice of Christ and draws the Church into thanksgiving and self-offering . Therefore, Eucharistic reparation is ultimately participation in the love of Christ who continues to offer Himself for the salvation of the world. Consider Baruch, Jeremiah's faithful companion, (cf. Jer 36:4–8, 27–32; 45:1–5) who continued carrying the burden of God's word during difficult and uncertain times . Consider Anna the prophetess,(cf. Lk 2:36–38) who spent her life in worship, prayer, and expectation, remaining faithful when redemption was not yet visible . These hidden biblical lives reveal that not every apostolic mission is dramatic. Some souls repair through faithful presence. An elderly man who spends an hour before the Blessed Sacrament may be participating mysteriously in the salvation of people he will never meet. A bedridden woman who offers her suffering with Christ may become a hidden intercessor for missionaries. A university student who spends ten minutes in adoration before an examination may learn to offer not only anxiety but also the future to God. A priest may carry wounded souls before the tabernacle; a mother may unite her sleepless care for a sick child with Christ’s self-giving love (cf. Col 1:24; 2 Cor 1:3–4). Reparation transforms helpless love into prayerful offering, even through ordinary duties sanctified for God (cf. Rom 12:1; Col 3:17). St. Josemaría Escrivá especially witnessed to this hidden sanctification of daily work . Thus, reparation is not reserved for extraordinary mystics. The mechanic can repair through honest labour offered to Christ. The teacher can repair through patience. The doctor can repair through reverence for life. The judge can repair through justice without cruelty. The politician can repair through integrity. The priest can repair through reverent celebration of the Eucharist. The religious can repair through faithful hidden obedience. The married couple can repair through forgiveness and fidelity. The young person can repair through purity and courage. Every vocation can become Eucharistic when it is returned to Christ as an offering of love. The most astonishing truth is this: when you come before the Blessed Sacrament to repair, you are not simply looking at Jesus. Our Adorable Jesus looks upon you. His Presence reveals the world’s wounds and invites you to become part of His healing (cf. Jn 20:21; 2 Cor 5:20). Though your offering seems small, united with Him it can carry a mystery greater than itself . Therefore, do not merely pass Him by: adore where He is forgotten, repent where sin has wounded, intercede for lost souls, and love where charity has grown cold (cf. Mt 25:40; 1 Tim 2:1–4). Let your surrendered life become a quiet offering through which Eucharistic Love continues His work of restoration .
Prayer
O Adorable Jesus, truly present in the Blessed Sacrament, teach us to repair through love, adoration, repentance, and faithful service . Where You are forgotten, make us remember; where sin wounds, make us love. Heal our hearts and make our lives instruments of reconciliation, mercy, reverence, and salvation . Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
