Paying attention to detail

After Mass, the nun ever so gently placed the remaining consecrated bread (the “Blessed Sacrament”) in the tabernacle---a wood carved, locked box, beautiful in its simplicity.

I watched her precise and meticulous movements as she focused her complete attention on the placement of the bread: first she unlatched the door of the tabernacle, carefully positioned the consecrated bread in it, moved it to the desired location, latched the door shut, genuflected, and then unobtrusively exited the room. A few moments later, she returned with more consecrated bread and repeated the process, only this time genuflecting before opening the tabernacle, since the Blessed Sacrament was now there.

“Does the lighted lamp hanging next to the tabernacle indicate that the Blessed Sacrament is there?” I asked.

She smiled, nodding an unspoken, “yes.”

I was meditating in the little room I later learned is the Adoration Chapel, adjacent to the church at the Loretto Motherhouse in Loretto, KY., only a few miles from my home.

On occasion I show up and worship with the nuns. I love them, and the ones who know me heartily welcome this Baptist preacher.

“So good to have you back again,” Sister Mary Swain kindly greets me as she clues me in on which hymn they will be singing and quickly introduces me to anyone nearby.

Afterwards, I retreat to the quiet of that little room, the Adoration Chapel. In there, the only movement is the nun as she dutifully attends to the Blessed Sacrament.

The Sister’s attention to detail in caring for the Blessed Sacrament prompts me to pay closer attention to where and how I position Jesus in my life.

It’s all about detail.

Am I slipshod in my approach to Jesus? Do I take his presence for granted? Do I allow the sacred to become commonplace in my life? Do I honor him as I should?

There is nothing particularly glamorous about paying attention to detail. It’s the small stuff of life that makes the difference: carefully lifting the latch on the door of the tabernacle, honoring his presence by bowing, the meditative approach to the tabernacle itself, eyeing where the Blessed Sacrament is laid--- all of which speaks of the heart’s devotion.

And how do I come into his presence each morning as I sit in silent prayer? Do I rush in like a kid in a candy store, more interested in the gift than the Giver, wanting what I ask for right there and then? Or am I willing to walk softly, gently, humbly into the tabernacle, thoughtfully opening my soul to him? And I willing to wait for his gentle whisper in my ear?

This is what Advent is about: anticipating the coming of Christ even as we honor his presence in the here and now, in the seemingly small things of life.

In Livingston, Alabama, where I served years ago, we ministered to students at the University of West Alabama.

I don’t recall her name, but she was a student from from the Middle East, and a devout Muslim.

We invited her into our home.

“If you loan me a copy of the Koran, I’ll give you a Bible. I’ll read some of the Koran if you’ll read some of the Bible,” I bargained.

I’ll always remember the day she brought me her sacred book.

As if she were holding a golden treasure, she carefully handed the Koran to me.

“Please be careful with it, sir,” she respectfully requested.

“If you would, please place it on one of your highest book shelves so to remember that it is a holy book, deserving of great honor and respect.”

I did.

And I hope I do the same for the Lord of my life.

May Advent’s devotion to the simple but sacred things continue beyond this season and the next.

Ever so gently, opening the latch of my heart, I anticipate his presence in the Adoration Chapel.

The nun is gone now.

But I am not alone.

Surrounded by his presence, I welcome his Advent.