In Tribute to Pope Benedict XVI

Today, Pope Benedict XVI stepped down from Office and has entered a monastic life of prayer for the Church. In Tribute, Catholic bloggers everywhere are joining in with Ironic Catholic in posting our favorite paragraphs or quotes from the Holy Father's writings.

There are so many, but even as he left, Pope Benedict XVI gave us a message of hope, and leaves to go into a life of prayer, so I think it fitting to share with you one of my favorite passages as a highlight of his own lived belief and experience, advice and wisdom offered from the heart of God to us:

I. Prayer as a school of hope 
 32. A first essential setting for learning hope is prayer. When no one listens to me any more, God still listens to me. When I can no longer talk to anyone or call upon anyone, I can always talk to God. When there is no longer anyone to help me deal with a need or expectation that goes beyond the human capacity for hope, he can help me. When I have been plunged into complete solitude ...; if I pray I am never totally alone. The late Cardinal Nguyen Van Thuan, a prisoner for thirteen years, nine of them spent in solitary confinement, has left us a precious little book: Prayers of Hope. During thirteen years in jail, in a situation of seemingly utter hopelessness, the fact that he could listen and speak to God became for him an increasing power of hope, which enabled him, after his release, to become for people all over the world a witness to hope—to that great hope which does not wane even in the nights of solitude.
~ Spe salvi, 32

Thank you, dear Holy Father, for reminding us that even when we think we are alone, the reason for our hope is God who will never leave us totally alone for we can always talk to Him, and he never fails to speak to us.

Long Lost...Back Again?

Greetings and Salutations to my long-lost readers!  Or...am I the long-lost blogger?

In any case, thanks for hanging in there, welcome to new followers, and let me just say I hope to resurrect this ol' gal.

So here we are in the midst (well still the semi-beginning) of the Lenten season, and we've all been hit with the shocker of our beloved Holy Father's impending departure from the Papacy. It truly gives us all something to pray about and for as the conclave nears once again, and offer our Lenten sacrifices for the guidance of the Holy Spirit for the good of the Church.

I don't know about you, but right on schedule, God chose a sacrifice for me since I'm still awful with sticking to my own chosen sacrifices. That's right: I got the flu. Which always happens when I receive the St. Blaise blessing.

This time, though, I think I've avoided bronchitis but it's not over yet so who knows what joyful sacrifice God still has in mind for me to make this year?  I've been sick all week, went to work yesterday and had to leave - just couldn't make it for very long. Came home to nap, brought work home with me, and this morning we're dealing with a snowstorm. It's not horrible but you all know how it is: when you feel awful or just plain exhausted from being sick, the last thing you want to do is head out onto bad roads. I emailed my boss to ask if I could work from home today, and go in tomorrow.

My fear is that she may say I HAVE to go to the Dr. and get a note since I've been out most of the week. However because I went in yesterday and am sorta flip-flopping days off, I might be able to avoid that requirement. Thank you God for a flexible work schedule since I can't afford to go to the Dr. who will only tell me to do what I've been doing:  chicken broth, garlic, lots of fluids like tea, orange juice, water, sleep, lay low, OTC meds, and laying low. We all know how it goes. So...pray for me y'all and I'll offer this particular suffering for you.  (I should add that's a guarantee on my part, whether you pray for me or not!)

Today, because I'm home, am having a mini-retreat and may actually post some of my work, depending on how it progresses. Be well, my friends, be prayerful, and be holy as your Father in Heaven is Holy.

Blessed Lent to you all!

Forgetting About God's Love

I've been going through a long period of spiritual dryness, struggling in prayer and still trying to wade through my days at work. Certainly I have continued to pray, especially the rosary (some days that's all I could really manage), and work in the Lord's vineyard.

Perhaps a side-effect of working within the Church is "being there" for others, preaching about how God loves them, struggling to love others even in their worst moments, and, well, this kind of thing takes a toll.

Today at Mass I received the answer to what has been ailing me. The homily was about Eucharistic Adoration, and because of work, of late I've missed mine a great deal. But this priest, this blessed priest of God gave me a huge reminder as to why we go to Adoration:  because God loves us.

I sat back in my pew, astonished that I'd forgotten such a simple, basic thing. I've been, in my spiritual life, focusing on how I have to love God, and I do love him, and want to love him more. As I listened and pondered and took the priest's words to heart, I realized that in all that loving, all that work, I wasn't at all praying about how God loves me.

This is something I've often struggled with; I've written of it before. But somehow, in the last several stressful months, I forgot that I'm not the one who's supposed to be doing all the "acting". That's God's job. For me to be effective in my work, for my prayer life to bear fruit, to even have a "life", it starts with God's love...for me.

All of us learn to love because we have first experienced love.  John Paul II, in Redemptor hominis, as well as in many other writings, pointed out time and time again, "Man cannot live without love."  Indeed. Everything we are, everything we have, comes from God's love, His very Goodness. If we are to love, we first must know His love. If we do not realize we are loved by God, how can we possibly carry love to others?

We can't. It's as simple as that.

So my advice to you, if you are struggling in prayer as I have been, take some time away from your regular meditations and just BE in God's presence, rest there, and ask Him to reveal to you how much He loves you.  Let him love you for awhile, so that you can learn to love Him more perfectly.

A Prayer For the Government

Last week I was on retreat and as Mass was in the Extraordinary Form most days, I  used me St. Andrew Daily Missal.

It was quite providential, then, to discover on page 562, a prayer I'd never heard or seen before, but is so needed in our times. It is abridged from a prayer composed by Archbishop Carroll circa 1800. We should all be praying this every single day and after every single Mass.

PRAYER FOR THE GOVERNMENT

We pray Thee, O almighty and eternal God, who through Jesus Christ hast revealed Thy glory to all nations, to preserve the works of Thy mercy; that Thy Church, being spread through the whole world, may continue, with unchanging faith, in the confession of Thy name. 


We pray Thee, O God of might, wisdom, and justice, through whom authority is rightly administered, laws are enacted, and judgment decreed, assist, with Thy Holy Spirit of counsel and fortitude, the President of these United States, that his administration may be conducted in righteousness, and be eminently useful to Thy people over whom he presides, by encouraging due respect for virtue and religion; by a faithful execution of the laws in justice and mercy; and by restraining vice and immorality. Let the light of Thy divine wisdom direct the deliberations of the Congress, and shine forth in all the proceedings and laws framed for our rule and government; so that they may tend to the preservation of peace, the promotion of national happiness, the increase of industry, sobriety, and useful knowledge, and may perpetuate to us the blessings of equal liberty. 


We pray for his Excellency the Governor of this State, for the members of the Assembly, for all judges, magistrates, and other officers who are appointed to guard our political welfare; that they may be enabled, by Thy powerful protection, to discharge the duties of their respective stations with honesty and ability. 


We recommend likewise to Thy unbounded mercy all our brethren and fellow-citizens, throughout the United States, that they may be blessed in the knowledge, and sanctified in the observance of Thy most holy law; that they may be preserved in union and in that peace which the world cannot give; and, after enjoying the blessings of this life, be admitted to those which are eternal. 


Amen

A Moment of Eternity

Today I had to run some errands that took me into a suburb in which I worked for five years. As I passed the familiar exits and mused on new construction since I had last driven that route, one particular sign gave me pause.

I knew where it led and suddenly, I knew that I had to go there before I continued on. There was time and, well...I couldn't say "no" to this particular clarion call.

When I worked in that city, I had a very stressful, demanding job, and one awful summer I had to do the work of three people as the others on my team had either been promoted or had left the company. Instead of taking lunch, I had begun going to Adoration.

Starving for Home

The first chapel I found near my work was still quite a drive and it was so comfortable and I was so emotionally exhausted that when I arrived there I'd almost immediately fall asleep, only to have to rush back, addled, to work. "Something" goaded me to look further, and indeed, I'd found a chapel closer to work. Each day, perhaps nearly every day that terrible summer, I looked forward to my break so that I could steal away to the chapel.

I didn't each lunch at all. I knew what I needed:  My Lord.

I remember the first time I arrived and crept up the stairs to the chapel, careful not to disturb any of those who were there praying. I didn't like the fact that I had to enter the chapel from the front, but just the same, I was grateful to be able to go and sank down in a pew like an exhausted swimmer collapsing upon the sand.

The chapel was like one from an old convent (which may be what that building once was); the altar is in the front surrounded by stained glass windows set into an arched outer wall. the pews line up precisely with heavy wooden kneelers and the scent of the old building is so permeated with ancient incense and...well...that indescribably sweet but nostalgic pungence one often finds in old buildings.

I was always comforted from the moment I entered the chapel and it became an oasis of peace that kept me sane in a very difficult time of my life.

Today, although I was happy to be able leave the office to run my work errands on a nice fall afternoon, and I was thrilled with what I was going to pick up, I knew that I had to take this detour and visit Jesus as a perfect balm for my harried soul.

I could not disobey the invitation that came to me today on the freeway and it was like stepping back in time as I parked my car and once again approached the chapel door, climbed the steps, and entered into the presence of the King.

As I knelt before Our Lord, deeply taking in the familiar aromas, I was taken back in time, thanking Jesus over and over again for this refuge He so freely offers us. Thanking Him for allowing me to come into His Presence.

Although I've fallen away some from praying the Liturgy of the Hours, it continues to go with me everywhere I go and today I was not surprised to open it and find us amidst the story of Esther. Her prayer is never far from my lips:  "Help me Lord, for I am all alone and I have no one but Thee."

 The Psalms spoke to me so deeply today that I nearly wept in gratitude as well as sorrow.

I could not help but marvel at how far God has taken me with Him in these last several years. Even as I prayed the Psalms, the memories of the place played in the background of my intellect.  I recalled that the last time I'd been there in that particular chapel, I barely knew my faith and was eagerly absorbing all I could. There were days I would go there and would just weep from stress and anxiety because of my job. There were days I would arrive and, in spite of the hardness of the pews, fall asleep out of pure exhaustion, unable to speak or absorb. All I could do was BE. And there, in that chapel, Our Lord allowed me to simply....be.  I could do that in His company, where He, simply...IS.

My mother was always a very devoted Catholic and our homes always housed the Sacred Heart of Jesus and Immaculate Heart of Mary.  Although I was familiar with and loved that image of Christ and His mother, it was there, in that particular chapel, that I re-discovered the devotion, learned about it, and made it my own. I absorbed into my very being the spirituality of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and began learning how to entrust myself and my prayers to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.

I sat there today, realizing that God has given me SO MUCH, and has and is taking me along with Him on a long walk to Calvary. It becomes so apparent, for the last time I was there, I was asking to know Him more deeply, praying about a religious Vocation, knowing that what I was doing was not what He intended to be my life's work.

I returned today, this time with a Masters in Theological Studies, with the Liturgy of the Hours, and with an entirely different type of burden. 

But still...it was all the same. Jesus is the same, everywhere, every day, in every age, from today to tomorrow, from the past we can't fathom and into a future we'll not see with earthly eyes. HE IS, quite simply. He IS. Eternally.

There I knelt, and although I did not really pray in words today, I prayed wordlessly, staring at Jesus as He looked back at me. And in that passive activity, time stopped and there was nothing but eternity in the gaze of Christ.

Earthly life continues and I had to break that incredible gaze, so I  invited Jesus to join me as I ran my errands. I knelt and left the silent endlessness of the blessed chapel and continued in silence to the next task.

Pondering my brief visit to the chapel, I realized that it was exactly what I needed. God knows us all so well and although we can encounter Him anywhere, at any Catholic parish, whether hidden in the tabernacle or exposed in the monstrance, He continues to use ALL of our senses when we seem to have lost our way in the darkness of this world. Jesus brought me into that suburb today not simply to complete an errand, but to visit HIM in a place special in my own memory of Him.

You see, I realized  that it was in that very chapel that I fell in love with Jesus. 

I needed to go there today. I needed it because I needed the sensory reminders of my passion for Him and His life-giving Passion for me. I NEEDED that.

Today, in that all-too-brief interlude, God did not speak to me of the Cross or of deep theological explanations. He spoke to me of eternity with Him. There, in that place where I first discovered the meaning of real, sacrificial love, He gave me a moment of loving eternity. And that description contains no paradox.

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, be my salvation!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, ThyKingdom come!+

+Sacred Heart of Jesus, have mercy on me!+

Immaculate Heart of Mary...Pray for me! 

The Truth About God's Love

Earlier this week, I had a wonderful conversation with a friend who shared with me some of her own profound experiences in her relationship with Christ. It was because of these that she was able to recognize His reality, even physical reality, in her life. She expressed how she had come to recognize His gentleness, His respect for us and where we are in our relationship with Him, no matter how limited or open, and, most importantly..his incredible love.

It's hard to really understand and internalize that love, for in our human frailty, we most often fail to love either ourselves or others - and all love is a participation in God's divine charity.

This morning I went to the Adoration chapel at my parish to pray the Divine Office and Morning Prayer before completing my errands, still pondering what she had said.

While I don't normally read or pray the "Psalm-Prayer" after every Psalm, today one portion of it from the Office caught my attention:

"We, your children, are weighed down with sin; give us the fullness of your mercy."

That line spoke volumes to me; we are, in fact, weighed down with sin, and only God's great mercy can relieve the crushing burden. Note in the prayer that we don't ask only for a little mercy, but boldly, we ask for what Our Lord has provided through the Cross: the FULLNESS of His mercy.

In prayer, even though we are "weighed down with sin", we still go to Him, prodigal children, humbly demanding  our birthright.

It was then that it struck me more profoundly than it ever has before; we have nothing.

I thought of my financial burdens, my burden of sin, my worries, my physical possessions...all of it. In prayer I said to Jesus, "I have nothing to offer because all I possess is my sin; that originates with me."

But no; even sin, even my greatest sins, are taken away through God's mercy in the Sacrament of Confession.

The only thing any of us truly possess, the only thing that makes us fully human, the only real treasure to be sought has been given freely; God's incredible, merciful, fiery Divine Love.

We are all poor in our mere possessions and money; no matter how much we have, it is nothing.

The ONLY thing we really need is not tangible, but is far more real than the biggest gem right down to the smallest penny: God's merciful love.

With that, we have far more than we will ever need; we have only to accept it so that we, too, can bring it to others.

Thank you, Jesus

Nothing Left - The Reality of Employment in Ministry

My friend Dominisumus over at "We Belong to the Lord" recently wrote:

We each have our own difficulties and struggles in our faith lives that we are usually loathe to share with others. This is doubly hard for people who work in parishes because we cannot burden those who come to us for help with our own struggles, but there are times when it is appropriate and helpful to share at least some of our own journey. Too often people look at us and think that we have it “all sewn up” and we have the ideal relationship with God. Well, let me tell you - Yeah right. I wish I had the perfect relationship with God, but I don’t.

Read the rest of  Lord, Teach Me to Pray.

There was a long off-blog discussion that both gave rise to her post and continued after among we lay people who work in ministry in some form. We may appear to have deep prayer lives, and we may talk a good game because we know how it's SUPPOSED to be due to our theological education, but the reality is that we are just as human as everyone else and we struggle, too.

The problem is, as Dominisumus points out, when people come to us with their needs, we are there to be with them professionally and therefore can't pour out our own hearts to them in return. That would NEVER be proper. Sure, we can share SOME of what we experience in our lives, especially with those parishioners with whom we become real friends, but even then there is a boundary.

Truly, that boundary must exist and that lesson was brought home to me very clearly on Monday when a parishioner I *thought* was my "friend" put my job in danger in the name of her own rebellion against a policy that definitely did NOT provide a hill I was willing to die on for her issue. She invited me to "get fired", in fact, and then when her end of things was resolved to a particular satisfaction, she pretended all was well.

The fact is that after she reamed me out in public (a fact for which I am thankful because a witness told me in private she would go to bat for my job if it came to that), I went to the office, certain I would be fired for this other person's disobedience, and then had to maintain composure while a literal line of people in need of my assistance came forward, one after another.

Much to my embarrassment, after the confrontation, which was my breaking point after several stressful days at work with quite literally no actual "off" day (for even at home I was dealing with work issues on the phone), I went to my office to help someone and couldn't stop the tears of anger and frustration, fear, and betrayal from flowing.

While I wasn't sobbing by any means, and I took a deep breath (several, in fact), while retreating to the back of the office to get what someone needed, the kind parishioner who saw what happened and how upset I was actually was the indirect catalyst for the tears I could no longer hold. It's weird, but when I'm upset I HATE it when people are nice to me because that's when I get truly emotional! And I even acknowledged that I was being ridiculous in my response to a problem that was not my fault or doing.

I know that the witness in question thought nothing of it, but I am conditioned to behave professionally at work, which means...not crying. It is not the job of parishioners to comfort me in my affliction. But sometimes, the stress is too great, the timing is too horrible, the demands far beyond human strength....

Ah...now we get to the real problem

We who work in ministry [Definition: we are not "ministers" but we as lay employees participate in a ministry that flows from Holy Orders, by commission and permission by virtue of being hired for the role] by nature have to handle some very heavy issues. We are held to a high moral standard as appropriate to the Church, for we must be moral examples of holiness, even though we fail.

We preach about Holiness, about the Sacraments, about Mass and Confession and the need to put God first at all times. I know that we often come across as "holier-than-thou" not because we are, but because so many people do NOT put God first and assume we are living lives akin to saintliness. I actually had one parishioner tell me she can't imagine why I would ever need to go to Confession; after all, what sin would I have to confess?

She was sincere in her statement, but completely ignorant about my very real sins.

My answer to her, acutely aware of all of my sinful failings:  I can confess a LOT. I could spend all day in the Confessional and not get it all out. In fact, even if I never left the Confessional, I'd never be at a loss for something to confess for we sin not just in action, but in thought and in omission.

You may think, reading this, that  such positive perceptions by other people about you are good, but the reality is this: they create a dangerous pedestal. Everyone wants others to think well of them, and of course, everyone IS entitled to a good reputation (within reason!), but the reality of parish workers, along with Priests, is that people assume that because we work in ministry, we do not sin.

The opposite assumption is that we're all demons from Hell out to destroy souls.

The answer is much more human. 

Those polar opposite assumptions are the same weird things people say about other professionals:  doctors are all healthy and live totally healthy lives, lawyers and cops know the law so never commit crime, real estate agents never get caught up in scams, psychologists/psychiatrists are immune to mental illness or illogical thought, firefighters never lose their homes or families to fire...the list goes on. Create your own. You professionals who read this blog...you know what I'm talking about. You fight these myths every day and you cringe when you see your fellow professionals in the news for falling against the myth and proving it wrong. That's what makes the news, and it does so because people so strongly believe in the impeccability of...well...everyone. Until they fall.

For some reason, in parish work, more than any other profession in my experience thus far, the mythology and pedestal-elevation in parish work is the worst. In fact, it's like every parish has a Borderline Personality; you are a Saint until you disagree with someone and have to enforce policy. Then you're Satan Incarnate, but damn you if you dare to leave the parish because the parish needs you and the slightest "no" is a form of abandonment.

This condition is not limited to Catholics, but transcends religious boundaries; I know this from conversations with Lutherans Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists.....and bet even the organized pagan religions report the same things.

The Facts

Let me tell you about the reality of my spiritual life: it's a big FAIL.

For the last several months, I've barely been able to pray. While it is my habit to pray the Liturgy of the Hours, it is a miracle these days if I even manage to unzip the cover. While I pray the rosary every day en route to work, on my days off work, I don't pray it at all, and even on those work days, I'm usually praying while stressing out over this or that thing completely unrelated to the Gospel I am supposed to be meditating upon.  So much for the Rosary.

Fr. Corapi used to say, "THERE'S SO SUCH THING AS A BAD ROSARY!" but, well, these days, he's not exactly an authority to most people, is he? [do NOT go off in the combox on the Fr. Corapi issue. Thanks]

He was right, of course, but one must recognize that if one is praying while off in la-la-land having nothing to do with the intended task, it's not exactly a fruitful prayer, is it?

Life Before Ministry

Before I worked in a parish, I attended Daily Mass, during Lent I made to to Stations of the Cross nearly every Friday, and I engaged in all sorts of spiritual activities necessary to the spiritual life.

The reality now, in working for the Church, is that the demands of my job often prevent my attending Daily Mass (I try to go when I can but it's a slippery slope and I've fallen away even when I CAN go..), this last Lent I NEVER ONCE made it to Stations of the Cross at either parish because of work I pray spiritually benefited people to and for whom I'd been preaching on those days. Even though I preach to others the necessity and benefit of going on retreat,  I can't AFFORD on my salary to go, either. Overall, I'm a much MUCH worse Catholic now, a few years later, than I was when this all began.

I'm so burned out that going to Mass on Sunday feels like work to me...probably because, at work, I often have to be at a particular Mass because it's part of my paid JOB to be there. This is a far different thing than mere volunteer roles in the liturgy, which anyone can quit at any time if they find it impacts their spiritual lives.

Maybe some of you are sitting out there wondering why I don't just quit.

That's a valid question but the reality is this: what Dominisumus described and what I am describing afflicts every parish worker. (And whatever you do, don't get any of us started on the "Justice in Employment" BS document we have to sign every year as part of our contract!)

My blog has been erratic as of late, and this is why. I have nothing left. I'm tired, I have no consistent prayer life, I haven't been able to make it to Daily Mass, and even Confession has fallen away for me  as I struggle to get there at least every month. And even then, I have doubts.

The fact is that I don't even have the DESIRE to pray most days, and force myself to do so, what little I do accomplish.

As Domini describes, prayer is a gift from God, and as I've written before, dryness is a purification. We try short prayers, we do what we can, and we MUST press on, no matter how hard it is.

But know this: just because someone works in ministry does not mean their prayer life is perfect. They (We!) struggle just like all of you. We go through the same purifications, the same dryness, the same unwillingness to pray, and it impacts us and YOU even more.

Without God, we have nothing to give, because in and of ourselves, our strength doesn't go far. We flail every day, and we can't reveal our own struggles because to do so is totally inappropriate.

Sometimes, all we can do is offer short aspirations such as "Jesus, I love you!" and "Sacred Heart of Jesus I put all my trust in Thee!" and "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" and hope that eventually we'll be able to do more.

As far as my own particular spiritual life goes, it is failing and every day is a struggle. When I worked in Insurance, it was a struggle to go to work, but I was able to find strength in God. Now, in parish work, not only do I struggle to get up to go, but my source of strength absent for even when I do pray, He does not seem to be there.

All the theology in the world doesn't change the experience of this. You can preach at me, you can offer this or that advice, but the reality is this: until God again grants the ability to pray, I have to rely upon all I have left, that being the desire to pray, and even that is a pure gift, and one I lost months ago.

Don't ever put your parish workers on a pedestal; pray for them, because through their work in ministry, they may be so deprived that they may have nothing left; strength comes from YOUR intercession before God.

The greatest holiness is usually found in the simplest of souls..not we with graduate degrees and professional parish employment.

Please pray for us with all your heart; we depend on you.

Thank you.

Horarium

VESPERS

A few evenings ago as I prepared for dinner, a robin's solo came to my ears, almost echoing in the stillness, so I stepped outside to look for him. To my surprise, there he was, prominently perched atop a nearby pine, chanting his heart out in the song God gave him. For awhile I paused to listen, and his own song called me to prayer, for I had neglected to pray Vespers thus far that evening.

No other birds were singing but for perhaps, far away, the caw of a random crow or chirp of some other bird;  none were joining his chorus. He was a lone cantor, leading Vespers as the sun sank further toward the horizon hidden behind the trees dotting the Minnesota prairie. Even here in suburbia. I can't remember ever being without the lilting, cheery sound of the Robin's praise, so even though I was caught within my own darkness, the music drew me back towards God's Providence. I couldn't help but quietly rejoice in Him through His creation.

LAUDS

The next morning as I arose, the robins were silent in spite of the rising sun, but the haunting cry of a Mourning Dove wept Lauds while I went about my own morning routine.

As a child I was taught to listen to the Mourning Dove's call, for their behavior portends rain. Throughout the years I've often noticed the silence of other birds in seeming deference to her prophesy. Even when I know the rain to come will be mere sprinkles, their mournful cry ties my stomach in knots, for they portend both the gentle and the destructive with the same call. They are the innocent grim reapers of nature and carry out their duty in solemn profundity. Although I have not yet captured one on my camera, they prominently use rooftops as their pulpits then join all the others on the ground in humble acceptance of the event they have just portended on behalf of all who reside in their vicinity.

If it is indeed a sin to kill a Mockingbird, it is an even greater sin to kill a Robin or a Mourning Dove; for one stands as Cantor calling us to joyful prayer, and the other humbly reminds us of our eventual demise.

In the Midwest and Southeastern United States, it's been a tough spring; the storms thus far this season have been monsters especially in the South, and in the North where I live, they have also attacked highly-populated areas. No one is safe, anywhere.

The birds, they know this. As a child, I remember Mom teaching us how to read the weather through nature, a skill she'd learned from her father, a farmer. She showed me how to read the river and discern the bird's calls, the behavior of wildlife...and the proper human response.

She did this after a tornado nearly touched down directly over our home, sparing us with a warning, that being a twisted tree thrown against us in fury abated by what must have been the intercession of the Saints. She tried to help me overcome my fear through knowledge as she recognized my hyper-vigilance. I wanted to know what was coming so that I could find cover, so she, logically, taught me the signs, hoping they would be a consolation, giving me some sort of control over my surroundings.

Unfortunately, her teachings, while proper, backfired to a certain degree, for I didn't understand context. Any sign of a glassy river sent my adrenaline into survival mode, and the second the wind gusted and  birds went silent, I had to grapple hard to keep from tying myself to some sturdy structure.

Whenever I heard the cry of a Mourning Dove, I looked to the sky for the next day or that following, certain the wrath of the weather was about to erase us from the face of the earth.  I dreaded that terrible, haunting sound, even as I wanted to reach out to them for their sadness.

Perhaps that is where I first learned mercy, for I knew not to hate the messenger. To me, the messenger was always sad and only delivered it for the good of others. I saw the Mourning Dove as a friend who desired our survival. To this day, when I hear that echoing coo, I am overcome simultaneously with the nostalgia of my childhood fear coupled with the sensation of love for my Mother who called my attention to their song.

But Robins...they were always my hope. Although scientific models say that Robins winter in the Northland, I have never, or perhaps, rarely, seen them. When they appear in the spring, boldly capturing their wormy prey, we know Spring has finally arrived. It seems their yearly debut corresponds to that of one of my favorite flowers..the dandelion.

The Hours

Around us, even when we forget to pray, or refuse to do so, is arranged an Horarium of prayer.

While winter is silent, mimicking our spiritual lives either apart from God or at a higher level of purification, the remainder of the year has harbingers of nature reminding us to pray the Holy Hours of the Liturgy, to worship God all of our hours, all of our days.

The birds cannot pray for us, but they can remind us to pray, for their entire being is one of praise for God. They cannot choose this and don't know anything different.

We, as human beings, are the only creatures on earth who must work to praise God, to worship Him, and even, as one philosopher noted...to laugh. We as humans don't find prayer as an undeniable instinct. While it is written within our souls and DNA, it is still left to us to choose. Every day I can choose to pray or not to pray. Every day, I can choose to rise and join the song of the birds, or I can choose to close the window and the drapes and cover my ears.

Every day, every moment, I can choose to accept or reject God.

The Horarium {scroll down for specific hours of prayer} helps me to love God and praise Him, even when the birds refuse to sing. Even when the oncoming storm causes the Robin to seek the shelter of the nest and the Mourning Dove to stand down in silence, even when the birds have fled for winter or rise too early in summer, I know when to pray, and to pray in the words and voice of Christ and His Church.  Eternally.

If only I have the grace to choose to do so...and I do...if I don't reject it. 

Praying with A Broken Rosary

On Good Friday, my favorite rosary broke. This rosary is special to me for several reasons and I find the timing of its demise to be especially ironic. You see, this rosary is one that comes in the mail from this or that charity seeking donations. But it's important because it came into my hands a little over three years ago when I prayed to soon-to-be Blessed John Paul II for his intercession in a certain matter - and it happens to have the crucifix from his pontificate. It was also blessed by a friend of mine and is thus a reminder to always include that particular priest in my prayers.

And now, it is broken, and in fact, broke on the day we began the Divine Mercy novena; how apt a sign it is for the present condition of my spiritual life. How apt that this particular rosary would break, now, as we rejoice in a new Blessed, the one whose image is borne on one side of the medal of this rosary. Oh, yes, this is my JPII rosary all the way.

I have found, though, that the inconvenience of its broken chain in the middle of the 5th Mystery makes me ponder a bit more about the love of God for us, our own spiritual condition before Him, and the depths of His infinite mercy.

This rosary is not beyond repair by any means, but it is not something I can fix on my own. I need help to do it. I have to take it to someone else. Do you see the metaphor? So it is when we fall into sin, we cannot absolve ourselves; we must go to someone else in order to be reconciled to God. The rosary may still be prayed, and each time I encounter the premature end, I am reminded of the chasm that exists between God and me.  That break is a physical reminder that I must take my own broken soul to Our Lord, place it into His loving hands and allow Him to give it back to me, restored once again.

Even though we are all broken in some way, we must always pray. There is always hope, there is always God's mercy if we but ask in humility and sincerity.

Eternal Father, I offer you the body, blood, soul, and divinity, of your dearly beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world. For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us and on the whole world!

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have Mercy on us and on the whole world. 

Jesus I trust in Thee! 

A Fire Ever Burning

As a friend reminded me this morning, today (April 29) is the Feast of St. Catherine of Siena, one of my patron Saints. I was thankful for the reminder and prayed wearily this morning for her assistance, and indeed, she came through for me in a big way this evening, just when I needed her most.  And through her intercession, I have been brought closer to Jesus, closer to once again falling in love with Him.

Today, I was especially struck by the second reading for her Feast day in the Divine Office, and so I am placing it here for you, too, in hopes that her prayer will become yours, not just today, but always.

The following is an excerpt from her work, Dialogue, specifically her Treatise on Divine Providence:

Eternal God, eternal Trinity, you have made the blood of Christ so precious through his sharing in your divine nature. You are a mystery as deep as the sea; the more I search, the more I find, and the more I find the more I search for you. But I can never be satisfied; what I receive will ever leave me desiring more. When you fill my soul I have an even greater hunger, and I grow more famished for your light. I desire above all to see you, the true light, as you really are. 


Eternal Trinity, Godhead, mystery deep as the sea, you could give me no greater gift than the gift of yourself. For you are a fire ever burning and never consumed, which itself consumes all the selfish love that fills my being. Yes, you are a fire that takes away the coldness, illuminates the mind with its light and causes me to know your truth. By this light, reflected as it were in a mirror, I recognize that you are the highest good, one we can neither comprehend nor fathom. And I know that you are beauty and wisdom itself. The food of angels, you gave yourself to man in the fire of you love.

St. Catherine of Siena....pray for us! 

Meditation on Distraction

This morning, en route to work, I was praying the rosary and specifically meditating upon the Sorrowful Mysteries. At some point though, my mind wandered from Christ's Passion and went through a recipe catalogue somewhere in the depths of my brain. As I prayed Hail Mary's, I imagined seafood salad and came up with an ingredients list then realized how long it's been since I've made that salad.

Suddenly I realized I was praying the last two decades but couldn't recall actually pondering the Crowning of Thorns. The last thing I remembered was the beginning of Jesus being scourged and somewhere after that, the terrible weapons turned into the knives used to slice onions and celery to be added to the chopped seafood.

And I was ashamed. How, exactly, did I go from Our Lord's most Sorrowful Passion to...seafood salad on crackers?

How in the world did I manage to pray Hail Mary's, Pater Nosters (half in Latin, half English), Glory Be's, all in apparent praise of a salad?

I wasn't even hungry!

Oh, sure, Jesus said He would make us "fishers of men" but I'm sure He didn't have a chopped seafood salad in mind when He said that.

*sigh*

I'll let you know how the salad comes out when I make it next. I've got the ingredients.

In the meantime, please pray for me. I'll try to pray for you but I must warn you; I may begin with great intentions but end up prayerfully meditating on summer cole slaw, caprese salad or grilled steak instead.

Just Words?

Recently, at work, I was giving a very brief presentation about the upcoming changes to the Roman Missal, explaining the reasons for it and what those changes would be. The woman with whom I was speaking responded in anger and shock. She thought the new translation was ridiculous because of the cost of the replacement of books, and didn't see why the words of the Mass really mattered anyway.

"They're just words!" she exclaimed in self-righteous sarcasm, rolling her eyes to make sure I got her point.

All I could do was just shake my head at such a juvenile response, for indeed I did get her point; that I shouldn't waste any time tossing any more pearls before swine. Just words? Really?

When are words "just words"?

Words are powerful. What's that old adage?  Oh, yes, right: "The pen is mightier than the sword." If the pen is writing mere words, how in the world can they cut so deeply and have effects that last throughout history, affecting people from generation to generation? Anyone ever heard of the Magna Carta and the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution? Or the famous 1st Amendment guaranteeing "free speech"? If words are "just words" why have an Amendment protecting them?

Anyone ever heard of Martin Luther's theses? Were those "just words" or didn't they create a schism that exists to this day and continues to splinter?

How do people end up being sued for libel over "just words", especially when their crime destroys reputations and lives? How can so many priests, like Fr. Gordon MacRae, among so many others, end up in prison as the result of slander if that slander is "just words"?  How many people have gone to the electric chair, guillotine, firing squad, or some other equally unpleasant way of death, innocent or guilty, when the verdict of "GUILTY" is just a mere word?

Words can destroy people - they have that power.

They also have the power to get unqualified people elected to the Presidency by the fluke of media propaganda. But...it's "just words". So I guess that result is meaningless.

Words have the power to begin wars, to free slaves, to install Kings, to change history - and even re-write it such that people will believe the lies simply because it is in print.

Words have the equal power to reveal Truth even in the face of the worst deception, and in so doing, set people free from intellectual bondage.

Words can encourage, elevate, support, uplift, inform, educate, and bring tidings of great joy to a world lost in darkness. Words revealed the Birth of Christ to the poor Shepherds - but they were "just words", weren't they?

Then we come to the Mass, where we come together in worship of the Almighty God. Are the prayers of the Mass, the prayers we utter in the desperation of our hearts and souls, the prayers uttered in praise and thanksgiving...are those "just words"?  If so, why are we there?  If they're "just words" why should God listen? 

In the Sacrament of Baptism, when we are baptized "In the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit", if they are just words, then we are "just sinners" and not children of God.

In the Sacrament of Confession when the priest says, "...I absolve you in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit", if those are "just words", then we are not forgiven and never can be.

And the Consecration: when the priest, through the power of the Holy Spirit, utters the words that change the bread and wine into the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Christ - are those "just words"? If so, then Christ is not present and He lied to us a long time ago.

If they are, in the famous statement of Flannery O'Connor, if those are mere, meaningless words, "Then to Hell with it!"

Oh, right...her words were "just words", too. Yeah..I guess words don't really have any meaning. They certainly don't affect us at all, do they? Words have no power, no meaning. They don't do anything. We have the power of speech for no reason whatsoever.

What about the Bible, the "Word of God", and Jesus, "The Word Made Flesh" who dwelt among us?

I guess Jesus has even LESS meaning, then, because He is just "the Word", not even worthy of an "s" to make Him plural.

Just words. Right.

There's no such thing as "just words".

Springtime in the Northland

On Monday, I left to go on a retreat and for the last couple days have been experiencing community life and prayer and...more iconography. I brought my icon with me to work on, and am amazed at what a little direction and time will accomplish! Although I have a long ways to go before it will be done, I admit I feel more confident in my ability to proceed.

This morning we drove out to the Oratory where the community will reside when the renovations on the Priory are completed, and it was my great pleasure to end my retreat with four solid hours of prayer. Of course, there was the rosary en route (in private as I drove solo), then once there, chanted Divine Office, Morning Prayer, Adoration, Little Office of Mary, Daytime Prayer, Holy Mass in the Extraordinary Form, Novena to St. Joseph, and Stations of the Cross (the version by St. Alphonsus Liguouri). Whew! Talk about marathon prayers!

On the way home, at Sister's suggestion, instead of driving straight to the freeway, I took a brief but parallel detour along peaceful farmland so that I could stop and pick up some fresh cheese curds.

My friends, one of the great pleasures of living in the upper Midwest, and most specifically, of passing through Wisconsin, is being able to pick up fresh, still-squeaky cheese curds fresh off the family farm.

As I left, squeaking on curds, enjoying the rolling hills of Wisconsin farmland, I realized how grateful I am both to be Catholic and to live in the upper midwest. This is GOD'S COUNTRY, my friends, and I don't think I'd ever want to live anywhere else.

I've even come to appreciate the oft-parodied accents of our region, and associate the most prominent with the friendliest, most-down-to-earth people one would ever care to meet.

At the same time, as I inhaled the fresh farm scents, I also realized how distasteful it is to have to actually reside within the rotting urban putrescence we refer to as a "suburb", kept apart from the incredible beauty of the tilled land that makes up most of the Midwest.

An old song from the Indigo Girls came to mind as I drove along, musing, so I couldn't help but create my own parody of it.  Just so you get the melody, first check it out here then come back and sing with my edited version.

Northland in the Springtime

Maybe we'll make Fargo by the morning

Light the flood-swamps with our tail lights in the night

300 miles to Stillwater from the state line

And we never have the money for the train

I'm in the back seat sleepy from the travel

Rocked our hearts out all night long in the Windy City

I'm dirty from the diesel fumes, drinking coffee black

When the first breath of Eau Claire comes in clean

And there's something 'bout the Northland in the springtime

Where the waters flow with flooding and destruction

Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long

Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season

When God made me born a yankee it was pleasin'

There's no place like home and none more reasoned

Than the Northland in the springtime

In the Northland nights are colder than a blizzard

Within a snowcone someone's brother formed in hand

With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations

And the birch trees stitched across the land

There'll be cider up near Redwing off the roadside

And warm cheese curds in a bag to warm your fingers

And the smoke from the chimneys meets its maker in the sky

With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers

And there's something 'bout the Northland in the springtime

Where the waters flow with flooding and destruction

Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long

Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season

When God made me born a yankee it was pleasin'

There's no place like home and none more reasoned

Than the Northland in the springtime

Author Unknown: A Poem on the Passion of Our Lord

 Formerly ascribed to Lactantius (source: NewAdvent.org):


Whoever you are who approach, and are entering the precincts of the middle of the temple, stop a little and look upon me, who, though innocent, suffered for your crime; lay me up in your mind, keep me in your breast. I am He who, pitying the bitter misfortunes of men, came hither as a messenger of offered peace, and as a full atonement for the fault of men. Here the brightest light from above is restored to the earth; here is the merciful image of safety; here I am a rest to you, the right way, the true redemption, the banner of God, and a memorable sign of fate.

It was on account of you and your life that I entered the Virgin's womb, was made man, and suffered a dreadful death; nor did I find rest anywhere in the regions of the earth, but everywhere threats, everywhere labours.

First of all a wretched dwelling in the land of Judæa was a shelter for me at my birth, and for my mother with me: here first, amidst the outstretched sluggish cattle, dry grass gave me a bed in a narrow stall. I passed my earliest years in the Pharian regions, being an exile in the reign of Herod; and after my return to Judæa I spent the rest of my years, always engaged in fastings, and the extremity of poverty itself, and the lowest circumstances; always by healthful admonitions applying the minds of men to the pursuit of genial uprightness, uniting with wholesome teaching many evident miracles: on which account impious Jerusalem, harassed by the raging cares of envy and cruel hatred, and blinded by madness, dared to seek for me, though innocent, by deadly punishment, a cruel death on the dreadful cross.

And if you yourself wish to discriminate these things more fully, and if it delights you to go through all my groans, and to experience griefs with me, put together the designs and plots, and the impious price of my innocent blood, and the pretended kisses of a disciple, and the insults and strivings of the cruel multitude; and, moreover, the blows, and tongues prepared for accusations.

 Picture to your mind both the witnesses, and the accursed judgment of the blinded Pilate, and the immense cross pressing my shoulders and wearied back, and my painful steps to a dreadful death. Now survey me from head to foot, deserted as I am, and lifted up afar from my beloved mother.

Behold and see my locks clotted with blood, and my blood-stained neck under my very hair, and my head drained with cruel thorns, and pouring down like rain from all sides a stream of blood over my divine face.

Survey my compressed and sightless eyes, and my afflicted cheeks; see my parched tongue poisoned with gall, and my countenance pale with death. Behold my hands pierced with nails, and my arms drawn out, and the great wound in my side; see the blood streaming from it, and my perforated feet, and blood-stained limbs.

Bend your knee, and with lamentation adore the venerable wood of the cross, and with lowly countenance stooping to the earth, which is wet with innocent blood, sprinkle it with rising tears, and at times bear me and my admonitions in your devoted heart.

Follow the footsteps of my life, and while you look upon my torments and cruel death, remembering my innumerable pangs of body and soul, learn to endure hardships, and to watch over your own safety. These memorials, if at any time you find pleasure in thinking over them, if in your mind there is any confidence to bear anything like my sufferings), if the piety due, and gratitude worthy of my labours shall arise, will be incitements to true virtue, and they will be shields against the snares of an enemy, aroused by which you will be safe, and as a conqueror bear off the palm in every contest.

If these memorials shall turn away your senses, which are devoted to a perishable world, from the fleeting shadow of earthly beauty, the result will be, that you will not venture, enticed by empty hope, to trust the frail enjoyments of fickle fortune, and to place your hope in the fleeting years of life.

But, truly, if you thus regard this perishable world, and through your love of a better country deprive yourself of earthly riches and the enjoyment of present things, the prayers of the pious will bring you up in sacred habits, and in the hope of a happy life, amidst severe punishments, will cherish you with heavenly dew, and feed you with the sweetness of the promised good.

Until the great favour of God shall recall your happy soul to the heavenly regions, your body being left after the fates of death. Then freed from all labour, then joyfully beholding the angelic choirs, and the blessed companies of saints in perpetual bliss, it shall reign with me in the happy abode of perpetual peace.

Why is Prayer So Difficult?

In the previous post, How to Listen to God, Faith posits the question, "I understand that praying isn't easy. My question, is: Why is this so?"

Isn't that another great question???  Thanks, Faith.  :-)

Let's go back to the definition of prayer:  prayer is a conversation with God.

Conversations are easy, right?

Well...er...sure. Sometimes. Yes. No...well, maybe...or...not so much.  Hmmmm.

I think I'd answer it like this:  Prayer is easy.  WE are difficult!

When we look at Faith's question in light of the most basic definition of prayer, and recall that the other party in the conversation is God, the Creator of the Universe, our Father, our Beloved Savior, the Holy Spirit who groans on our behalf for the words we cannot speak., well, that can sometimes seem a bit overwhelming. Perhaps it challenges our faith to recognize that God truly wants this relationship with us and is inviting our participation.

Remember:  God is immutable. 

He does not change. He cannot change.

When we pray, therefore, we are forced to recognize who we are in the face of God, and sometimes He holds up a mirror, and the reflection there ain't so pretty, is it? Sometimes we get a good look at ourselves through His eyes because we've got a few flaws He wants to point out, and perhaps we don't want to see those flaws. Or perhaps we KNOW they are there but we don't really want to recognize them, or work on them. We'd rather just push past that mirror of self-knowledge and say, "Yeah, God, I know all that, but I really really really want to experience the heights of ecstasy like St. Teresa of Avila. Can't you make just one tiny exception...for me? Please? Pretty-pretty-please with sugar on top?"

And there God sits, immovable, loving us as we squirm under His directed, uncondemning gaze. We try to look away, but we just can't...and there we sit. That's kind of a prayer-killer, there, isn't it?

Think about it:  when we look away and refuse to take that mirror into our own hands, go to Confession, and own up to the fact we have a lot of sins holding us back from fulfilling our end of our relationship with God, we're the ones sticking a fork in prayer. We're the ones being difficult. The responsibility for that rests solely upon ourselves.

Sin isn't the only problem making prayer difficult, though, is it?

I don't know about you, but I have often found that, especially when I have sinned seriously, or maybe not mortally but enough to make me feel especially bad about something, my prayer life gets a bit wacky. Sometimes I'm almost afraid to pray, but always, always, if I take my sorry self to the chapel to pray, or open up the Liturgy of the Hours, God gives me certain consolations, and often those consolations are exactly what buoys me right into the line for Confession, even if I'm shaking in my shoes.  Then, the moment I'm out of Confession and offer my penance and pray a prayer of thanksgiving for God's mercy, BANG! I suddenly can't seem to pray anymore!

At times I've sat almost shell-shocked in the chapel, staring at the Blessed Sacrament, asking Jesus, "Hey! Where did You go? Come back!"

In that case, I've removed the obstacle of sin, but there I am, in the desert. Spiritually, that desert is stretching far in front of me...and even though Jesus is right there, I can't "feel" Him anymore. I know intellectually all the theological stuff that tells me He is right there and especially after Confession when I've managed not to sin for about 30 seconds or so, that the Holy Spirit burns within my soul...but Jesus just sits there and looks at me stoically, asking, "Are you still going to talk to me even when it's hard?"

Yes, Lord. Thy Will Be Done.  *ow*!

This is a lesson often spoken of through the Spiritual Masters:  dryness in prayer. 

When we first begin to pray, and we are falling in love with Jesus, there may be a certain spiritual high. We are doing something new and exciting, maybe we are reading about the great mystics and, their words for God and about God still burning on the pages of their journals, we, too are ignited and desire with all our hearts that same kind of love for God...and that knowledge of God's love for us.

So it is that we sometimes experience emotional "highs"; we may weep during prayer, we feel a deep emotional joy, we may look forward to any moment we can get to pray.

Over time, though, that tends to fade. Prayer isn't as pleasurable anymore. We haven't experienced the heights of mystical ecstasy, we haven't seen any apparitions or heard any Divine voices. Maybe we struggle just to pray a single Hail Mary or Our Father, and we feel guilty, for maybe we fear we have fallen out of love with God.

Maybe we even stop feeling pleasure at attending Mass; it becomes more of a drudgery than a joy, and we deeply feel a sense of guilt about t his, and perhaps don't even want to bring it up to anyone for fear they may point at us and scream HERETIC! YOU HATE GOD!

It's easy to romance the idea of the Saints at prayer, but the reality of their prayer lives was the daily drudgery of it. The constant conversation with God, the sheer tedium; that is what truly brought them to holiness. Not a single Saint was canonized because God granted them infused prayer; they were canonized because they persevered even when  or perhaps especially when prayer itself was a trial.

What is the Purpose of Prayer?

If you struggle with prayer, ask yourself what you're trying to get out of it. What are YOUR goals? WHY are you praying?

Then take a step back and look at God. Ask Him what He gets out of this relationship with us. Realize...nothing. God doesn't get ANYTHING out of it. He doesn't NEED us, but rather, WE need HIM! God created us entirely for Himself and wills our good - only our good! Our very ability to pray is in and of itself a pure gift from God.

Prayer is the way we come to know and love God, and through the Sacraments which lead us more deeply into prayer, we become sanctified.  The purpose, then, of prayer...is to make us Holy!

It's so easy to forget that. We all have long laundry lists of needs and wants. We have unrequited desires, deep wounds in need of healing, fears for loved ones...and a will that needs to be purified.

God Will Not Be Manipulated

In going back to the original question - why is prayer so difficult - I stated that prayer is not difficult:  We are!

We are fallen, and in our fallen nature we try to manipulate others to get what we want. We are selfish, self-centered, egotistical little worms and we usually do things because those things make us feel good or get us something that we want. We do good for others because it makes us feel good to do so; ergo, for a selfish reason. Over time this basic childish tendency can be tempered as we begin to do good things for others because it is RIGHT, even if at times we must suffer for doing the right thing.

In our relationships with others, using the office as an example, we tend to do good things for our co-workers because we know it might advance our careers. Certainly ethics are involved; I'm not saying we all go around trampling on others to get what we want, but rather, we look at the ends we desire and we do what we can in our current positions so as to advance over the guy in the next cube. "If I volunteer to take that overtime on July 4 that no one wants, that's a big star in my file and might be the thing to tip the next promotion in my favor...".  Sure, we might tell our teammates, or just let them think we're "taking at hit for the team" but no, we're just manipulating the team.

Even in the closest friendships, we do the same thing; we humans have a HUGE capacity for manipulation, and unfortunately, that sometimes transfers over into prayer.

All too often we go to prayer and tell God what WE want, and when the outcome is not what we dictate to Him, we become angry with God. We rail at Him, curse Jesus in taking His name in vain, stamp our little feet, cry, scream and say we're going to leave the Church unless He does what we tell Him to do.

If that kind of response to God's disobedience to us isn't part of our temperament, then maybe we delve into more passive-aggressive techniques designed to put Him in His place, such as using devotions in a superstitious or talismanic manner, or looking for "prayer" techniques that might get us what we want when we want it while bypassing the pesky necessity of God's Will.

(Are you squirming yet? I am. Aren't you glad God is merciful? I am.)

We forget that God is immutable; our temper tantrums and techniques are not part of His plan.  Certainly He may respond favorably to our prayers IN SPITE of ourselves, but we must remember:  God cannot be manipulated. He laughs at our attempts.

Sometimes we even delude ourselves, saying that this or that "technique" or even "devotion" is what got us something like a certain consolation. We forget that healthy skepticism is also important; we are not blind fools; to be so is an insult to God who created our intellects and will in His own image. We sometimes forget the lessons of self-knowledge, comforting ourselves by the delusion that our complicated techniques won for us a feeling of euphoria when in actuality, all we did was hyperventilate and get too much oxygen into our brains. Or maybe we just saw "signs" that weren't there but through our own wishful interpretation in ignorance of reality.

Here's the Final Blow - Brace Yourself:

Prayer really isn't so difficult. A simple conversation with God is the easiest thing in the world. God is not trying to trick us or trip us up. He loves us too much and honors the dignity He gave us too much to make building a relationship with him something akin to figuring out the geometry, physics, and mathematics of a house built by Frank Lloyd Wright.

Prayer is simplicity itself. What is difficult is letting go of ourselves and our own wills enough to let God decide what and when...or maybe never. We have to let go of pride and realize that we can't manipulate Him. We HAVE to become like little children, the children that we are, if we are to truly pray.

A toddler can pray just fine, and pray very effectively, for when they do so, they pray in innocent sincerity - completely unlike most adults!

The biggest comfort to me, believe it or not, is not when adults tell me they are praying for me, but when they tell me their 3-year-old child is praying for me!  I'll take the prayers of a toddler over that of the Holy Father himself ANY day! (No offense to our dear Pope Benedict XVI, whom I dearly love and believe to be a very holy man!)  

Prayer is difficult because we make it so, and of course, because at some point God has to wean us from the bottle of consolations He delights to pour out to encourage we children in the faith. At some point, though, we have to grow up and learn the sacrifices demanded by divine charity; difficulty and obstacles to prayer.

It is a greater sacrifice, of much greater merit, to pray when it is difficult, for in that sacrifice, we complete the task in spite of the fact we don't "feel" like it. When we go to Mass even if we don't "feel like it" or when we say we don't "get anything out of it anymore" but still go because we love God, that is an act of far greater love and holiness than going when it feels good to do so.

Why is prayer difficult?  Because through prayer, God is sanctifying us, is calling us to greater trials, conforming us to Himself, calling us to the Cross...all so that we might become Holy and spend eternity with Him. 

Thank you, Jesus. It really hurts to say it, and I don't know what's coming but....Thy will be done.

Amen.

**     **    ***

Thanks for your question, Faith (and by the way, I love your name!). You made me ponder and pray a lot over this one - sorry it turned into a book in and of itself!

How to Listen to God

As Providence would have it, this morning I received a wonderful question from Jose, who happened upon an old post/article,  Centering Prayer vs Contemplative Prayer.  Because his question is pertinent and of course, a common one, I felt it deserved its own post.

Jose asks:

I have been trying to "learn to pray" of late and find myself often confused between Catholic Meditation and the mix of Chistian-Eastern practices. I do have one question. The Saints and others say that one must LISTEN for God when one prays. I also recall the story of the Old Testement prophet who heard thunder, and earthquakes but didn't find God. He DID find God in a whisper. And, one must clearly listen for God to hear him in something as subtle as a whisper. So...What's the difference between emptying ones mind and listening for God? I feel as if I can't really listen to ANYONE if my mind is elsewhere and busy. If you were in a conversation and your mind is filled, your friend would accuse you of not really paying attention. Can someone explain the difference between the emtying of the mind and listening for God? I feel as if one can't listen without a quiet mind. It's truly confusing. God Bless and thank you!

Jose, you bring up several points, and I'll try to address them all.

It's not surprising that you're confused by the mix of "Christian-Eastern practices" because in reality, the non-Christian Eastern religions have practices of prayer that are diametrically opposed to Christian prayer.

It's first important to understand what those differences are and WHY they are, and that may help sort out your confusion. In a nutshell, Eastern non-Christians aren't praying relationally but for a very general way; the object of their prayer is impersonal, and their goals in prayer have a far different object.

In Christianity, we pray to a Person: God. We recognize the Holy Trinity, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit. We believe that we are Temples of the Holy Spirit; God Himself is within us, and it is the Holy Spirit who initiates our prayer, who teaches us to pray, who inspires the desires of our hearts and helps us to cooperate with God in union with His will.

By definition, prayer is a conversation with God, and any conversation has a certain amount of give and take. When you pray, recognize that you are looking for an encounter with a Person, a real Person. God is not an impersonal, uncaring deity, but He is your Father who called you into being to be loved by Him. Prayer is your response to that love and is in and of itself an act of love for God.

Think of it this way:  when you want to get to know someone, you sit down and you have a conversation with that person. You speak, but hopefully, and more importantly, you listen. Listening is an action; your mind is engaged as it must be in order to formulate a response, to process what is being said to you and perhaps to take action. When you converse with people you know, do either of you sit and stare blankly at the person speaking?

Prayer is no different than that.

Yes, you do have to eliminate useless distractions, but keep in mind that not all distractions are useless!  For example, if you're praying the rosary and trying to meditate on the mysteries of Our Lord, and a certain person keeps popping into your mind, could it be that God is speaking to you and asking you to pray for that person? Or perhaps there is a problem with your relationship with that person - maybe you have not become reconciled to someone, or you're holding a grudge, you need to be forgiven something or maybe more importantly, you need to forgive that other....or yourself. Those things can actively block your prayer to God - and yet, in a way they've just facilitated something wonderful: the gift of self-knowledge.  Our distractions in prayer are often God's way of telling us what we need to bring to Confession!

Now, if you're just sitting there wondering about what to make for dinner that evening, or what to put on the shopping list for your kids, or whether you should shovel the walk when you get home or perhaps in the morning...those are useless distractions. That may require a bit of self-discipline, nothing more. Knowing that you're, say, in the Adoration Chapel to spend time with the Person of Christ and continuing to focus on that fact will probably go a long ways towards eliminating the garbage but still allowing your mind to continue to operate.

Christian prayer is a beautiful thing, for it engages the entire person, body, mind and soul. Our postures, our thoughts, our entire being can be absorbed in prayer; they shouldn't be suppressed. We NEED to engage our minds in order to listen to God, but we also need to know HOW He speaks to us.

It is different for each person and you may need to try different things if you're not sure how He speaks to you.  He may speak through your distractions, or, if you pray the Bible (Lectio Divina), God will speak through His Word, the Holy Scriptures. What stands out to you in a certain passage? Stop and simply ponder that. Read the gospels - what details stand out? God is speaking! Stop and allow him to reach through to you!

One big mistake people make in prayer is that they bring a whole stack of intentions and devotions, they run through their "routine" and then rush out the door. At no time do they ever give God the chance to answer. Silence, therefore, is important. That doesn't mean devotions are bad or bringing prayer intentions is a terrible thing; quite contrary, they are wonderful things, and God wants to hear those! Balance is needed, though - allow Him to respond. He may not do so immediately. Simply wait. Enjoy His presence, and even if you are not praying in the chapel, know that the Holy Spirit is within you, that God is always with you and WANTS to respond to your prayer.

The other biggie - praying in the will of God. We don't know His will, and perhaps in our prayer we are asking for things that are OUR will, so we must always be willing to "die to ourselves" and pray the prayer of Christ in the Garden: "Thy Will Be Done."  Not mine. YOURS.   (And yes, that's often hard to pray with sincerity!)

Prayer is very simple; it doesn't require complicated techniques. Contemplation and Infused Prayer are gifts from God we cannot elicit through any technique, but without knowing Him, loving Him, and simply delighting in Him, we will never grow in prayer.  Keep it simple; begin with focusing on the fact you desire a relationship with God, and He will guide you more deeply in accordance with His will.

You may also find this wonderful post from Fr. Charles to be very helpful to you!

I hope this helped, Jose, and if you have any other questions, please let me know. I'd be happy to clarify any points.  God bless!


RECOMMENDED READING: 

* St. Francis de Sales  Introduction to the Devout Life
* Fr. Thomas Dubay  Prayer Primer

Whirling Dervish

It's not news anymore as every blogger and his brother is writing about it, but we here in the upper mid-west,  depending on where we are, are either experiencing a Winter Storm or a Blizzard. We in "The Cities", as we fondly call the Mpls.-St. Paul area, don't have anything as dramatic as a "blizzard". We are instead being blessed with a "Winter Storm".

In proper meteorological parlance, a "Blizzard" is classified by wind speeds of something like 30 or 35 mph for at least 3 hours.  We here in The Cities,  have most definitely NOT experienced those wind speeds, although we have been experiencing very heavy snowfall, high winds (just not blizzard-high), blowing,drifting, and outright miserable road conditions. In other words...we are experiencing a mere Winter Storm. A big Winter Storm, but nothing with the quality of a Blizzard.

Now, don't get all down on people who call it a Blizzard! We Minnesotans like melodrama, which is evidenced by Fish-Stories on the Fishing Opener (yes, really), and Blizzard Tales at any point during a winter snowstorm! (And some of both are actually TRUE! Remind me to tell you of the time I nearly caught a Grandaddy Northern that nearly snapped my pole in half...)

Anywho...no matter what the term that applies, whether country or city, this whirling dervish is doing a number on all of us here in Minnesota and Wisconsin; therefore we do what all experienced upper-Midwestern people do in the winter:  we batten down the hatches and reserve our errands, if we must go out, to local endeavors. That is, if we can get out of our driveways and actually see where we're going!

Venturing into the Whirling Dervish

This morning I did have to run out and decided to do so sooner rather than later. We already had about 5 - 6 inches on the ground by the time I backed out of my garage, and I nearly got stuck where my driveway meets the city-owned Cul-de-Sac, which had clearly been sorta-plowed once, early on.

I considered turning back before I was even a block away; I couldn't see very well, there were random piles of snow created by plow wars between the City and various home-owners association contracts, and the idiots were out in force, fishtailing and driving crazy without actually looking to see if anyone else would be taken out by their stupid antics.

But I digress....

The main streets in my city were well plowed, every 2 cars was a squad car, and most people who had ventured out out were driving slowly and with consideration for other drivers.  I skipped one errand because I didn't think I could turn onto that road without plowing my entire front end into a plow-formed bank and getting stuck there until April.  The rest was fairly uneventful but for the near-whiteout conditions, saved by occasionally chopping ice off my wipers to make them work every now and then.

The REAL Story was this afternoon....

I was supposed to go to Adoration this afternoon and after my morning trek, was almost certain I'd make it.

Almost.

Like everyone else, I watched the conditions. If I had a 4-wheel-drive vehicle, it wouldn't have been in question. However, no, I don't. Prudence must come into play.

I called my hourly coordinator and learned one of the people on my same hour would almost certainly be there, barring sickness. So I waited, watchingthe weather, and when it got close to time to go, I walked down my driveway to assess the conditions. It was as if our own plows hadn't been through at all, and clearly the City had forgotten about our little street.

Sadly, I walked inside and called the gentleman to verify he would be there, and apologize to Jesus for being stuck at home.

I went back out thinking to check mail and further ponder...could I go? I knew that if the city plow came by while I was gone, I'd never be able to get back into my driveway. Then what?  (I'm sure my nice neighbors would help me shovel my car into the driveway).

There, where I'd been not 3 minutes prior, was a car about the size of mine, stuck in the muck of snow. A woman was behind, trying to push it out while the driver spun his tires constantly, actually working against the woman doing all the hard labor. I didn't know them, but asked if she wanted some help?

"Sure!" she responded, catching her breath.  (This is a very normal scene in MN. I've been pushed out by many a stranger, and they wave as I pull away, waving me also forward so as not to get stuck again! It's ingrained in our culture).

I joined her in back of the car and pushed, and the car began to move in spite of the driver's actions. After a couple minutes of not going anywhere or gaining momentum, the woman opened the rear door and told the driver how to hit the gas, not to constantly spin his wheels. I heard him yell angrily at her, and the only word I heard clearly was the f-bomb, at which she flinched, too. She started to respond, shrugged, and came to the back of the car and began to push again, so I joined her again.

Yeah, well, we got him out in spite of himself, I walked away and the woman thanked me. The driver...nuthin'.

But then again, in MN we don't do stuff out of courtesy; we do it because it's right. (Which is also why I didn't pop his tires in response to his obvious verbal abuse of his girlfriend..it wouldn't have been right.)

Anyway...there you have it.

I looked up just as we were getting the guy who didn't know how to drive out of his mess to see a City plow coming down the street. I tellya, these were the big guns, a huge tractor with 2 PLOWS!  The main one and a smaller more flexible extension. It was beautiful to behold, a true artform as he passed through and around our street, moving the snow out of  the way of we decent drivers!

I nearly applauded but by the time he was close enough to see my hands were full of mail and a package I'd ordered.

It was clear, though, that I'd been right to decide not to go to Adoration, as hard as that decision was; I would not have made it through the plow-slough.

God's Will, God's Designs

This weekend, I was originally supposed to go to Wisconsin, and with friends (and hopeful future religious community) attend Mass at the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, WI, offered by the now-Cardinal Burke. There were other very special reasons for this trip, and it was with a heavy heart that, yesterday, in the face of the developing storm, I decided to stay home.

Today I'm grateful for that decision, but sad that God denied me not just that grace, but also the regular grace of Adoration from me.  I still prayed at home, and took the time to work on my Icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help. It wasn't lost time it was just...time differently allocated for God.

Although my attitude didn't start out this way, I now I thank God for this storm, for it was part of His plan for us all, and in all it's terrible fury, there is beauty, there is order and therefore there is evidence of God's love, mercy and benevolence.

Daniel 3:52-75

"Blessed are you, O Lord, the God of our fathers, praiseworthy and exalted above all forever; And blessed is your holy and glorious name, praiseworthy and exalted above all for all ages.

Blessed are you in the temple of your holy glory, praiseworthy and glorious above all forever.

Blessed are you on the throne of your kingdom, praiseworthy and exalted above all forever.

Blessed are you who look into the depths from your throne upon the cherubim, praiseworthy and exalted above all forever.

Blessed are you in the firmament of heaven, praiseworthy and glorious forever.

Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.

Angels of the Lord, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.

You heavens, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.

All you waters above the heavens, bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever.

All you hosts of the Lord, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Sun and moon, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Stars of heaven, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Every shower and dew, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

All you winds, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Fire and heat, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Cold and chill, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Dew and rain, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Frost and chill, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Ice and snow, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Nights and days, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Light and darkness, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Lightnings and clouds, bless the Lord; praise and exalt him above all forever.

Let the earth bless the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever!