In a dream or vision, Jesus assured our Founder, Blessed James Alberione, in a time of crisis,

Do not be afraid
I am with you.
From here I will cast light.
Be sorry for sin (or as this is sometimes translated: Live in continual conversion).

In this article, I reflect on the third line of this message, in the context of life, rooted in the heart of God and his love for his people: “From here I will cast light.”

It was clear to Alberione that Jesus was pointing to the Tabernacle to illustrate where FROM HERE was referring to.

From here I will cast light.
From the Eucharist.
From the seed buried in darkness, from which sprouts new life.
From the Eucharist, seed of immortality, where we are assured that death has no more power over us!
From the quiet Center from whom love and light radiate out to the world.
From the silent Word before whom every other word is silenced by this Truth that doesn’t need military might or marketing plans to be effective.
From the Word, the Son hidden in the Father’s embrace, the Child who relies for everything on the providence of his Abba, and present ever on our altars as God-with-us, Emmanuel.

From the One who entrusted himself at the Last Supper to a string of untrustworthy followers until the end of the world…because he knows we need him and our hearts long for him.

From the Bread broken for the life of the world, where the idea of a Utopia is not entertained, but the humble, firm, feet-on-the-ground confidence in the reliability of reality.

From the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus who assures us that the way we are loved and cared for is more beautiful, more amazing, than we could ever imagine.

In the presence of the One who remains with us, among the weeds and the wheat, patient, waiting, loving, responding if and when we turn our gaze on him.

In the presence of the most pure heart of Jesus, who identified himself with his creatures who were mired in mud so thick we could not raise ourselves.

In the presence of the One who did not run away from his Father’s will, and who calls his friends those of us who so often flee this Love.

In the presence of the Lover who still begs for someone to love him wholly, even unto death.

In the school of the One who took up his cross, knowing that most of us would run from ours.

From this place, Jesus, the Lover of us all, casts light into the shadows of our souls and the confusion and darkness in the world.

Scrolling through Substack, I came across this prayer: “Shatter me, Lord. For that’s where I know you best.” (W. Tyler Allen) That’s where I know you as Love, triumphant Love. When I am in a moment of crisis, confusion, or chaos, I cry out from the bottom of my heart, that it is here that I find you, in broken dreams and shattered expectations, that let me climb Calvary and shelter there in the wound in your side.

As St. Claude de Colombiere preached:

Yes, Christians, everything that happens to us in this life happens by the order or permission of a God who always has loved us, and who loves us still more than we love ourselves. He regards us as his creatures, as his children, as his heirs, as his reflections. The benefits that we have received from him have surpassed all our desires; they surpass even our imaginings, and those [benefits] that we receive from him every day are without measure and without number. He has drawn us out of the void, and he is constantly dedicated to save our being and life. He has washed us in the blood of his own Son, and he feeds us today with the flesh of his only Son. Could a heart so tender and so loving resolve to do us the slightest evil; could it even allow that it be done to us, being able to stop it, as he can?

The light I need is this: to know that I am loved by the Father with the same love he has for his own Son.

The light I need is this: to know that even in the confusing bits of my life, of which there are many, Jesus Master is still loving and living and saving and teaching and remolding and remaking and renewing and resurrecting me. I may resist and run from his hands, but I can never escape his Heart.

The light I need is this: to know that taking up the cross is not loss, but gain.

The light I need is this: to know that when I cannot see the way forward, he grabs my hand and carries me into the future.

The light I need is this: to know that I don’t need to have it all figured out and fixed and analyzed. That unknowing and being undone is the way he remakes the one he loves.

The light I need is this: to trust in the glory of the sunset years, making myself both eucharist and lover in Jesus’ hands, for the sake of the world.

We need the light of Jesus in the Eucharist because we get caught in what we see today, as if that is all there is. The present moment can, like a hurricane, whip into fury our thoughts and feelings and imagination. Jesus is the calm in the storm who urges us: Come. From HERE I will cast light.

These days I have been sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament before Mass, listening to the Surrender Novena, soaking in the words of Jesus to another holy person, Fr. Dolindo.

“Why do you confuse yourselves by worrying? Leave the care of your affairs to me and everything will be peaceful. I say to you in truth that every act of true, blind, complete surrender to me produces the effect that you desire and resolves all difficult situations.

…Pray as I taught you in the Our Father: “Hallowed be thy Name,” that is, be glorified in my need. “Thy kingdom come,” that is, let all that is in us and in the world be in accord with your kingdom. “Thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven,” that is, in our need, decide as you see fit for our temporal and eternal life. If you say to me truly: “Thy will be done,” which is the same as saying: “You take care of it,” I will intervene with all my omnipotence, and I will resolve the most difficult situations.

…And when I must lead you on a path different from the one you see, I will prepare you; I will carry you in my arms; I will let you find yourself, like children who have fallen asleep in their mother’s arms, on the other bank of the river. What troubles you and hurts you immensely are your reason, your thoughts and worry, and your desire at all costs to deal with what afflicts you.

…Close your eyes and let yourself be carried away on the flowing current of my grace; close your eyes and do not think of the present, turning your thoughts away from the future just as you would from temptation. Repose in me, believing in my goodness, and I promise you by my love that if you say, “You take care of it,” I will take care of it all; I will console you, liberate you and guide you.”

What new insights into the Eucharist has this article introduced you to?

Is there a place in your life where you need to experience God’s love and compassion? Do you treat yourself with love and compassion in that area of your life?

What would be different if you prayed the Surrender Novena?