A Long Night with God

MICHAEL RHODES ’25, DIOCESE OF AUSTIN

“They’re going to sacrifice me.” These are the words I thought to myself at the age of eight when I attended my first Mass. Incense filled the air, and strange languages were being chanted. My fear was probably brought on by a too early viewing of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. Yet, when the Mass ended, I walked out with a sense of wonder. I had just encountered something supernatural. I did not know about the Eucharist or the difference between the Catholic Church and my Baptist church. But, that Mass planted a seed that would sprout many years later.

I grew up going to Sunday school and attending Vacation Bible School at our local Baptist church. We would have contests to see how many scripture verses we could memorize, but I did not give faith much thought.

Years later, I dated a young lady who liked to “church hop.” One Sunday at a non-denominational, Bible church, we sat down and a praise and worship band began to play. And play. And play. I thought to myself, “When is the service going to start?” After the music, the pastor gave a thirty-minute sermon, and then, the music began again. When we left I thought to myself, “Why do I feel like I haven’t gone to church?” I realized something was missing, and I was determined to figure out what it was.

In the following weeks, I found myself desiring to pray yet not knowing how. I did not feel like I even knew who God was, but I had a deep longing for the Truth.

Memories of that first Mass kept coming up in my head along with the memory of my grandparents praying the Rosary together each evening when they visited us. That mysterious feeling I had leaving Mass at the age of eight drew me to examine the Catholic Faith more closely.

I began to pray the Rosary, but my Baptist upbringing left me feeling uneasy praying to Mary. I even asked God to forgive me if the way I was praying was idolatrous! Eventually, I start- ed to read about the Catholic understanding of the Blessed Virgin. I devoured everything I could find on the teachings of the Catholic Church. It was all so logical, and I believed everything until I reached the Church’s understanding of the Real Presence in the Eucharist. This was a hard one to swallow.

I stared at the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John where Christ says: “Truly, truly I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of man and drink his blood, you have no life in you; he who eats and drink my blood has eternal life” (John 6:53). Where had this piece of scripture been all of my life? Just minutes ago, I had been one of the people who said, “This is a hard saying: who can listen to it?” Now, I was comparing translations of this chapter across multiple Bibles. That evening, I stayed up all night pondering what I had read. When the sun came up the next morning, I knew the Catholic Church preserved the truth I longed for.

The very next weekend, I went to the Vigil Mass at St. Mary’s Catholic Center in College Station, Texas, and for the first time in my life, I knew why I was kneeling during the Eucharistic Prayer.

I was kneeling before Jesus Christ really and truly present in the Most Blessed Sacrament. In the Eucharist I had found what my heart had been longing for all my life.

I suppose it is fitting that the first Mass I attended gave me the impression that “they’re going to sacrifice me,” since the Mass is a sacrifice and the Church’s Liturgy expresses that in a very real way. Now that I am in seminary formation, I strive each day to conform my heart to the Heart of Jesus Christ. As his priest I will one day say, “This is my body, which will be given up for you.” As his priest, I will lay down my life in sacrifice for the people of God to make Christ present really and truly to his Church in the Most Blessed Sacrament. God truly has “put into my heart a marvelous love for the faithful ones who dwell in his land” (Ps. 16). n