Holy Thursday 2025
Poem shared by Fr. Ryan in his Homily
Link to original Spanish version by Fr. Caraud: ¡Qué bien se está contigo, Señor, junto al Sagrario!
How good it is to be with you, Lord, beside the Tabernacle!
How good it is to be with you! Why don’t I come more often?
It’s been many years since I started coming here daily,
and here I always find you, a lonely lover.
Alone, Poor, Hidden, Perhaps thinking of me.
You don’t say anything to me, and I don’t say anything to you,
because you already know everything, What can I say?
You know all my sorrows, all my joys.
You know I come with empty hands,
and that I have nothing to give you
that could be of use.
Every time I come, I always find you alone.
Could it be, Lord, that no one knows you’re here?
I don’t know! But I do know this, even if no one loved you or thanked you,
you would still be here waiting for me.
Why don’t I come more often? How blind I am, how blind!
If I know from experience that when I come to you,
I always leave changed, always better.
Where else can I go, my God, when I don’t come to you?
If you’re always waiting, if I always have you.
If You have never once closed the doors of your love.
Some travel long paths on foot,
weary pilgrims journey far,
paying large sums they’ll never get back.
But for you no one asks. No one wonders, Here,
if someone enters, it’s only in passing.
Here, you’re the one who pays just to let someone come in.
Why don’t I come more often, if I know that here by your side,
I can find what I’ve searched for so long?
My light. My strength. My peace. My only good.
If I have never come without finding you.
If I’ve never suffered, if I’ve never wept, Lord,
without you weeping with me too.
Why don’t I come more often, Blessed Jesus?
If you’re longing for me, if I need you,
if I know that I know nothing when I’m not here.
Here, you would teach me the wisdom of the saints,
that blessed wisdom that so many learned here,
your friends who now enjoy you forever.
Why don’t I come more often, if I know for sure
that you are the model my soul needs,
That nothing is hard when I look at you here?
The Tabernacle is the cell where you are enclosed:
so poor, so obedient, so meek, so silent!
So alone, so hidden. Why don’t I come more often, O Infinite Goodness?
Invaluable wealth, who needs nothing!
and yet, you’ve humbled yourself just to beg for my love!
Open that door now, let that be my life:
forgotten by all, hidden from all!
How good it is to be with you! How good it is, Lord!
Amen.