Here at the Abbey, just as we’re just noticing the first signs of drifting leaves and slipping temperatures, it’s already time for fall break. Students have traveled home, classes have passed the midterm crunch, and several things have paused momentarily, including the weekday Adoration that runs throughout our academic year. As someone who works on campus year-round, I tend to forget about fall break, at least until its natural consequences crop up… so when I stopped into the St. Joseph Adoration Chapel this Wednesday, at first I wondered why Our Lord was still closed in the tabernacle. And while it was a lovely, quiet visit – and certainly He was no less present than when visibly throned in the monstrance – those few minutes of prayer raised a question: Why is it such a gift to see Him, when His Eucharistic form embodies, too, a kind of hiddenness, at least to physical sight? The question, in its way, brought to mind a liturgical moment and a particular word, about which I’ve wondered off and on… “behold.” “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those called to the supper of the Lamb.” Just before Communion, the priest speaks these words as he lifts the Host, to which we, as a congregation, respond: “Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof, but only say the word, and my soul shall be healed.” Yet even before we borrow the Centurion’s words, there is something about the call to “behold” that invites an act of faith, and even makes it natural to address Christ directly in the Eucharist. Vision-centered verbs don’t tend to have particularly bold or active connotations. “Behold,” however, seems to reach out with intention and directness, not even requiring a...