I had the blessing of attending Mass every day this weekend, which was especially wonderful since I've fallen out of the habit of going to daily Mass. On Friday night, two of my community members and I journeyed across the river to Camden, NJ to celebrate the Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas with members of other local Catholic volunteer corps. On Saturday afternoon, I attended Mass and brunch with the women's faith sharing group from St. John the Evangelist Church in Philly. And then tonight was Sunday evening Mass at Old St. Joseph's in the historic section of Philadelphia.

I absolutely adore Catholic liturgy in all settings! I love the fact that regardless of whether I am in a small chapel in one of the poorest cities in the country or amidst the elegance of the oldest Catholic church in Philadelphia, I am united in prayer with all of the members of our universal Church and invited to the same Eucharistic table at which disciples of Christ have been fed for two thousand years.

Yet in the back of my mind this entire weekend was the knowledge that come Monday, I would have to return to work. Last week happened to be a particularly difficult one for me at the shelter - so much so that the very thought of returning to work was exhausting, especially in contrast to the peaceful glow of post-Communion prayer. Why, I wondered, would I want to deal with the struggle and frustration that so often characterizes my work when there was such joy and peace to be found at the table of the Lord?

But of course, ask and you shall receive! I am constantly amazed by how God answers my deepest questions even when I haven't put them fully into words. As this evening's Eucharistic celebration came to a close, my mind was drawn unexpectedly to what our tradition teaches about the very first Eucharist - the Last Supper. The Gospel of Mark tells us that after Jesus shared the Passover meal with His disciples, He sang a hymn with them and then led them out to the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsemane. And what followed? Agony in the garden, betrayal and arrest, torture and humiliation - culminating in crucifixion and death. After the joy of sharing that last meal with some of His closest friends, Jesus went out to walk the painful road of His Father's will. And after the peace of that close communion with their beloved teacher, the disciples witnessed the pain and suffering of His violent death.

It struck me that our participation in the Pascal mystery doesn't end with the conclusion of the Eucharistic sacrifice. After we recreate that Passover meal, we sing a final hymn and are sent out with a blessing and the exhortation to "go forth to love and serve the Lord - and one another". We are just like the apostles going forth from the Last Supper - called to accompany Christ through His passion and death, and to bear witness to His Resurrection.

Of course, like the apostles, we don't perfectly follow this call. For myself, I know that sometimes I deny Him, when I refuse to see Him in the suffering of my clients. Sometimes I betray Him, when I respond with anger and frustration to the injustices that impact my clients' lives. Sometimes I fall asleep at His hour of need, when I fail to offer love and compassion to the more difficult clients (and sometimes, colleagues) that I encounter each day.

But despite our failings, we are called, like the apostles, to return again to that Upper Room where we once communed with Christ, in the hope and faith that He will come to meet us there once more. We are called again and again to return to His table, and again and again we are sent forth with that same command to love God and neighbor.

Somehow, that connection makes the thought of going into work tomorrow morning much easier! I have faith that no matter what challenges await me there, Christ will be with me. I pray for the grace to see Him in my own brokenness and that of my clients. And I am consoled by the knowledge that in the midst of the chaos of this world, there is peace to be found at His table and in His Eucharistic Presence.

As one of my clients said to me in a rare moment of calm last week - God is good.

Yes He is :)