I’ve been struck lately by the fact that Christ makes himself available to one and all. No need to schedule. No phalanx of receptionists, security guards and gates. No need for a resume, letter of recommendation, sterling employment history, or character reference.
There he is, morning, noon and night, in the tabernacle, or exposed–literally, the liturgical rite is called Exposition–in the monstrance.
Anyone can approach. Anyone can touch his wounds. Anyone can spit on him. Anyone can accept, reject, wonder, wrestle, doubt. Anyone can adore.


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