Errant Thoughts While Sitting Before the Blessed Sacrament

I am a practicing Catholic, emphasis on the word, "practicing".

Sometimes I am more active in my practice than at other times, more than just once a week Mass, and the odd visit for the Sacrament of Reconciliation. Much depends on my mood; alas, not the most appropriate impetus for acts of devotion to the Lord.

My parish has a fair number of hours for Eucharistic Adoration, that is, a large Consecrated Host, which we believe is really, truly and substantially the Son of God, is placed in a special holder called a Monstrance. He is always there in the tabernacle, but this way of making Him visible in front of us, is a special form of Adoration. It is rather like having a friend sitting next to you, in silence, understanding all you are to each other. You sit. You meditate. You pray. You read passages from the Bible or non-biblical prose. You quiet yourself, separate yourself from the world, to be alone with Him, the One who came into time, to restore us to Himself, to His Father. You remember the trail you are on, with He who Leads.

Well, ideally.

For the nine days before Christmas, there has been an hour long such Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, that includes about 20 minutes of plain chant, the O Antiphons. It's the kind of thing you might have seen if you watched the movie "Into Great Silence". Night vespers. I have managed to go to three of the novena events. I have learned how hard it is to sit quietly for only an hour. I have used one or another mantra, one, "My Lord and My God" or the other, longer, "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner." As you do so, as in any form of meditation, thoughts intrude. The idea is to notice them, but let them go. The letting go of them is hard. And while I have sat, my thoughts have turned to the mundane, the sad, things that have annoyed me, things that anger me. They have passed, frequently unfair and unkind, but they were there, incongruities during apparent prayer. I wonder if the others, who look so holy, are having the same experience. That's one of the thoughts. A woman to my left is kneeling on the hard floor, rather than using the cushioned kneeler. Does she want to be noticed? Or is it true humility before God? I tend to think the former. Let that thought go. The pastor seems to be nodding off in the front. Sometimes I wonder, watching his body language, whether he believes, at all. Let that thought go. The woman behind me keeps turning the thin pages of her missal or whatever she is reading. Why does she keep doing that? Why can't she settle on a page and stop the noise? Let that thought go. One of the chanters, his red cheeks betraying his youth, is conducting the two sopranos. The conducting seems to take away from the prayerfulness of the gathering, to me. And it isn't working. They are missing notes. The gathered are supposed to join in but the voices are too high, and we can't match them. Let that thought go. For a passing moment, there is nothing but my mantra passing through my mind. As soon as I notice that, I lose the quietude. I lose the clear path to God.

But I know that it can be found again. Maybe tomorrow.