When we consider the presence of Christ, we often think of His Sacramental presence – the Holy Eucharist, the Blessed Sacrament – His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity that dwells in the tabernacle of every Catholic Church in the world. Many Catholics understand this. However, those Catholics of weak faith or no faith do not.
Sometimes the presence of Christ is only realised in their midst in terms of a priest, whose path they may cross. I often travel, and do so wearing my Roman collar so that others recognise that I am a priest. I can recount several occasions where strangers have approached me either to talk about problems that they have, or to make a good confession. I have heard many confessions at train stations and airports. One day when I was on a train platform at Parramatta, within the span of half an hour, three different people came to me asking me to hear their confession. The last one was responsible for me missing my train! Oh well…!
Once when I was on a plane, a flight attendant came and sat next to me and whispered “Father, will you hear my confession?” Of course I heard it. She said to me afterwards “Father, I hope you don’t mind.” I replied jokingly “I don’t mind at all, but if the pilot comes back here looking for confession, I might get a little nervous!” She smiled and walked off. Seeing a priest can also make people upset or agitated. I have had people pass me and say unpleasant things, to which I would just utter a prayer under my breath – a prayer of forgiveness, a prayer for that person’s conversion. Such is the presence of Christ that I want in my heart so that no matter who comes my way – either for good or for bad – I hope I can correspond with a Christ-like disposition.
When I was newly ordained and stationed with another priest – Fr Lemieux – in North London, on the way to Church on Saturday mornings, we would customarily walk by a building called the “Red Rose Socialist Centre.” We would stop in front of it, say a Hail Mary, and invoke Our Lady of Fatima for the conversion of the people who worked there.
One Saturday when we did this, there was someone inside who was looking at us praying. We continued walking along the footpath after we had prayed, and a man came running out of the building towards us, yelling. We didn’t know what he wanted, so we waited. He asked “What on earth were you doing outside that building? Why did you stop there?” Fr Lemieux said “We stopped there so that we can pray for the people who work there.” He asked “Why did you do that?” I answered “Because socialism is against the Catholic Church. We were praying for the conversion of Socialists.” At that point he looked at Fr Lemieux, and spat in his face. Father took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his face, and said to the man “Thank you, Sir, for helping me to be like Our Saviour Jesus Christ, who was also spat at in the face.” I must admit, my own Sicilian disposition may not have said that if he had spat in MY face – but nonetheless, truly the presence of Christ can overcome any evil whatever.