Since seventh grade (1988-89) I have played the organ for church, as often as five times a weekend.

At first an occasional substitute, finally I reached out to local parishes for regular work, and soon I was picked up by the former St. Francis DeSales Parish in Mount Carbon, a suburb of Pottsville.

The sacristan, Kathleen Glaser, lightheartedly called herself the “Assistant Pastor.” She knew much about the building and community as any priest. I enjoyed our colorful chats before Mass. When Kathleen died, the pastor, now-retired Father Edward B. Connolly, designed her memorial card. Beneath her photo was Psalm 26:8, which reads, “O Lord, I love the habitation of thy house, and the place where thy glory dwells.”

In June 2019, I became pastor of SS. Peter and Paul in Lehighton. In my first visit to the vestibule, I spied above the entrance to the nave that same Bible verse, which connected me to those early experiences that kept me off the streets and in the sanctuary.

Upon reaching my seventh assignment in 18 years of priestly ministry, I knew I was home, where God’s glory dwells.

Since my arrival, much has happened, not least of which was the pandemic. Even in normal times, maybe 30% of Catholics regularly attend Mass, and about the same number believe that Jesus is truly, really, and substantially present under the appearances of bread and wine in the Holy Eucharist.

These facts prompted Allentown Bishop Alfred A. Schlert to declare this 60th diocesan anniversary the “Year of the Real Presence” (yearofrealpresence.org).

The Second Vatican Council (1962-65) reminded Catholics that Christ abides and feeds in many ways: in the proclaimed Scriptures, in the priest and in the assembly. He is most tangibly present, however, in the Holy Eucharist, where His very Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity pitch their tent among us.

The meeting format of our new parish St. Vincent de Paul Society mentions how Jesus is present “wherever two or three are gathered” (Matthew 18:20). But it can be as hard to spot His presence in our suffering brothers and sisters as in the Consecrated Elements. The likes of Mother Teresa said the needy are among Jesus’ “most distressing disguises.”

But just as her religious community adores the Eucharistic Lord each day, the better to serve Him in the streets, our St. Vincent de Paul conference begins its meetings in the same way.

The Missionaries of Charity and the St. Vincent de Paul Society embody another principle from the same Second Vatican Council: The Sacred Liturgy is the “Source and Summit of the Church’s life and activity”: Jesus is everywhere, we’d say, because He is unmistakably, most intimately, there. We translate His Presence in the Mass to the people and situations of our lives, which in turn provide the raw material we render to God in our regular reunions.

It makes you wonder, though: if Jesus is here, why isn’t everyone else? Other faiths are asking the same of their own adherents. A global pandemic accounts for the current drought of dedication, but the “real absence” is nothing new to any religious body; even secular organizations have been reporting diminished returns over the years.

In defense of their defection, some folks cite God’s ubiquity when choosing to “worship in nature” or to follow some self-devised deity who makes no demands upon their conduct and allows them to worship on their own terms.

Camps sacred and secular can take to heart the warning posed in the letter to the Hebrews: “We should not stay away from our assembly, as is the custom of some, but encourage one another, and this all the more as you see the day drawing near” (10:25).

What day? The Day of the Lord, whose Presence is real and revealing and worthy of reverence.