A Rock of Refuge

As I travel in my camper van, I stop at churches for Mass or prayer.

Quiet time for conversation with Jesus in the tabernacle fuels my journeys. Often, my mind wanders to things I need to do or my next destination.

The art of the tabernacle provides a way for me to meditate, focus my attention on Jesus in his Real Presence, and rest with him.

Last fall, I passed though Jefferson, Ohio, and visited St. Joseph Calasanctius Catholic Church. The church is named after a Spanish priest who founded the first public school in Europe. Built in 1926, the modest church contains an abstract tabernacle at the center of the sanctuary. At first glance, the tabernacle resembles a rough textured block of stone. Immediately it calls to mind the words of Psalm 31:5-7: “Be a rock of refuge for me, a mighty stronghold to save me, for you are my rock, my stronghold.”

As I gazed at the tabernacle, I realized many of the pieces slightly protruding from its surface contained small crosses. This explicit reference to Jesus and His sacrifice reminded me of another psalm. “My God is the rock where I take refuse; my shield, my mighty help, my stronghold.” (Psalm 18:3).

I noticed the variety in placement and design of the crosses. This variety led me to contemplate how God allows us to experience the crosses most suited to bring each of us closer to him. I also thought about how Jesus approaches us in different ways, giving himself to us in whatever manner we are most likely to receive Him. We don’t always see Him present in our lives and the circumstances of the day until we stop and look more closely.

These thoughts helped me enter into praise and thanksgiving for his sacramental presence with me.

Later, I asked a deacon about the origin of the tabernacle. He explained that a previous pastor, Father Arthur King, designed the tabernacle, altar, and Bishop’s chair as part of renovations. Father King passed away a few years ago, and the deacon did not know what he intended the art to convey.

In contemplation of abstract art, many different interpretations are possible.

The small crosses are scattered on thin rectangular pieces of metal that seem tucked into interlocking blocks of solid metal forming the textured tabernacle. As crosses, these images called me to worship Jesus in recognition of His love and sacrifice.

There was more, however. I imagined the curling, slightly raised thin sheets of metal as petitions placed before God.

I recalled a photograph I’d seen of Pope Saint John Paul II’s visit to the Western Wall in Jerusalem. There, he prayed in reparation for sins against the Jewish people. Following the time-honored tradition of many visitors, he placed a prayer written on paper into a crevice in the wall. Today, we often write our intentions in books of intention within a chapel or the vestibule of a church. Contemplating the tabernacle as containing petitions, I prayed for intentions of people I’ve met in my travels, as well as friends and family.

Finally, the Western Wall stands as a remnant of the Old Testament dwelling of God in the Temple in Jerusalem. That Temple was destroyed by the Romans, as Jesus prophesied in Mark 13:2-23. This prophesy sometimes is read to be a warning about the end of the world, not just the destruction of the Temple.

This thought brings my meditation full circle back to trusting in Jesus as my rock, my stronghold, my savior (Psa 62:6-7, 9). Nothing shall separate us from His love (Rom 8:38-39). Nor will even the gates of hell will prevail against His bride, the Church, as Jesus proclaimed to Peter, the rock on which He built His Church. (Matt 16:16-18). Jesus calls to us from the tabernacle. He seeks our trust and obedience as a manifestation of the love we choose to give to Him who is love and who first gives us His Love.

I rest for a while, not actively thinking, but simply being present with Him at the tabernacle. When I rise to resume my journey, I take with me the peace and joy He so generously renews when we take time to visit Him.