Adoration is a practice that dates back to the earliest years of the Church. Centuries ago, priests exposed the body of Christ, and the young Church gazed in awe and worship. Perhaps a cantor or musician began a melody of praise, and the assembly joined. Deep in prayer, they lifted their voices to glorify the “source and summit” of their faith — of our faith.
Exposition grows out of the Mass itself. In the 12th or 13th century, receiving the body and blood of Christ only once a year left a longing in the hearts of the faithful. When the priest lifted his hands in consecration, the people leaned in to see more. That moment of ocular communion, communion by sight, led to the way that we celebrate adoration today.
I’ve spent many hours of my life in this setting. Every time, I am connected to the millions of souls who have knelt in reverence before me, who kneel with me and who will adore the Lord years after I am gone. It is timeless. Nothing else is needed to make it more beautiful. It doesn’t demand a gold monstrance or music or incense. Yet, we offer these things out of reverence, honor and respect. It is Jesus.
As a musician who plays frequently for adoration, I am ceaselessly blessed by the ritual. “O Salutaris,” “Tantum Ergo,” “The Divine Praises,” songs of gathering, sending and, of course, intentional silence, are all parts of what we know as a Holy Hour. From Steubenville youth conferences, to Life Teen XLT’s, to parish nights of worship, I have been amazed by the transformation, the healing and the peace that I’ve seen the Lord pour out on his people. I’ve witnessed a culture completely overtaken by a new movement of adoration. The Holy Spirit is alive and constantly moving through the communion of saints made present to us today in the holy Eucharist.