Never Forgotten - The Feast of All Souls

November 2nd is the Feast of All Souls, and all of November we are called to especially remember the dead, those who have left for eternity and may be suffering the agony and ecstasy of Purgatory.

Yes, the Doctrine of Purgatory is alive and well, although many funeral-goers in our day and age may be missing this teaching. It has become common for many who come to Catholic funerals to be subjected to the Eulogy line-dance of nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles, children and friends of the deceased offering their varied tributes to the guest of honor, none of which actually ask for prayers for their soul.

There are those who don't understand why such a display is inappropriate to a Catholic Mass, and this lack of understanding is scandalous because it does not only betray an ignorance of the doctrine of Purgatory, but also of the reality and holiness of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass which is nothing other than the entire life of Christ and most especially, the Sacrifice of Calvary made present right through the Resurrection.  *deep breath* 

The Catholic funeral is to call to mind, most especially, the death and resurrection of Christ, the hope of salvation, the reality of purgatory and the necessity of prayers for the deceased.

The liturgical and devotional practices of November are to call us to remember the dead, pray for the Holy Souls and reflect upon, in this season of death, our own future particular judgment. One day we will all stand alone, naked, before God, our entire lives, actions and omissions up for review. Heaven is not a guarantee. We do not get there by being merely "nice people".  We are called to be HOLY which is NOT the same thing as, "a nice guy".  I know a lot of "nice guys" and "nice gals" living a life of utter rejection of God. And I used to be one of them.

If I'm not careful, I could return to such a state, for I, too am weak. I, too, will face my Judgment and it will NOT be pretty, for I have much to atone for already, and my life is not  yet over.

Ghosts

There is always debate about what Catholics believe with regard to ghosts.

Yes, I believe in ghosts, but my belief as a Catholic does not usually match the popular portrayal of them.

We, as human beings, are body and soul, and we believe in a future resurrection. When we physically die, our souls go on, either to Purgatory to be purged of any impurity, or we go straight to heaven, if, in fact, we have attained a state of holiness that allows us to bypass the necessary purgation.  This is what the process of canonization reveals; whether a person has truly lived such a holy life.

What are ghosts?

Recently I read a tale of a little girl who inhabited a cemetery and a trail nearby, as well as other adjacent domains. Many people describe the apparition, what she is wearing, how she sounds when she speaks, and some paranormal investigators tried to locate her own cemeterial domicile.  In their findings, they thought this spectre might belong to a Protestant corner of an ecumenical cemetery, given the documented sightings.

As I read the story, I was struck not only by her plaintive attempts at communication, but also by her suspected origin; the Protestant corner (vs. Catholic, Jewish, or non-religious).  I realized that this little girl might be in purgatory for, as a protestant child, no one is praying for her soul. I began to do so, in hopes that perhaps all she was seeking in her appearances was someone to notice and pray for her.

Yes, I notice.  All we Catholics notice.

Well....maybe. After all, if Purgatory is not preached in our own parishes, how many are actually praying for souls?

How many pray for even their own dead?

I confess that I rarely pray for even my own family's souls. I am ashamed, but this day every year gives me a fresh reminder and holds me to account for my own sin of omission, for yes, it is a sin to not pray for the dead!

It is for this reason that, this year, I want to especially focus on prayer for the deceased. We cannot know their judgment, so we look to the resurrection, to the mercy of God, and we know that each and every cemetery reveals an opportunity for grace and is, in and of itself, a sign of hope.

I've been looking, therefore, for nearby cemeteries, to include inactive ones still containing their dead, for I hope to go there to pray most especially for those souls that have been forgotten. I encourage you all to do the same in your own locale.  For those in Minnesota, you may begin your light "research" here.

How many have been forgotten?

How many souls roam about the earth not to haunt, but only to be noticed in hopes some generous and compassionate soul will pray for them?

Last weekend I visited a cemetery and saw many broken, abandoned tombstones. Perhaps their family has died and gone away. I am reminded of my own father's tombstone, which I have never seen and now, no one lives close enough to visit. I have never seen where my grandmother was buried, and know that her Protestant daughter and son-in-law do not pray for her for they do not believe as we Catholics do. I don't think I've ever been taken to my Grandfather's grave, likely in the same cemetery.

I feel guilty because I have never been there and know that my own family's graves are abandoned, but I find one consolation; better the grave site be abandoned than their souls.

Still, I cannot help but be struck by obviously abandoned graves, knowing from observation and experience how few people really visit graveyards outside of the burial, and if they do, it is for sentiment and not for pious prayers for their beloved deceased.  It is a joy to behold flowers decorating a grave, for it tells me that person was and remains loved.  However, does that love always translate to ongoing prayers for their eternal souls? We cannot know; we can only examine ourselves, not the motivations of others.

Let no soul be forgotten; let us always pray for them, remember them, and  ensure that no soul ever spend their purgatory begging to be noticed.

Do not let the spiritual bouquet of prayers be only plastic replicas, but give those Holy Suffering Souls the living flowers of prayer and penance; one day you will be where they are, and you do not want to be one of the Abandoned.

REQUIEM aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis. Requiescant in pace. Amen.

ETERNAL rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

Devotions Meme

Ironic Catholic tagged me for the latest Meme: One's 5 favorite devotions.

So, in no particular order:

1. Eucharistic Adoration. I belong to a parish with Perpetual Adoration and I am perpetually thankful for the chance to perpetually throw myself at Our Lord's feet on demand.

2. The Jesus Prayer:  ever since I learned it, I have found myself praying it constantly, especially in times of frustration, trouble, or absolute adoration (as in during the Consecration and Elevation at Mass)

3. The Sacred Heart of Jesus - I grew up with this devotion, left it forgotten as it was "Mom's" but experienced the Sacred Heart for myself one summer when I sought Christ...and He answered. It is a quiet, but profound devotion.

4. The Passion of Our Lord:  when I pray, I pray through the Passion. When I suffer, when I want to understand the hardship of life, I flee to the shadow of the Cross and embrace the bloody wood. Nothing else suffices. Give me Our Lord crowned with thorns, those thorns originally meant for my own flesh as punishment for my own sin, or give me nothing at all.

5.  Iconography:  I'm still learning and will be for a lifetime (God willing that I continue).  It is contemplative, forces one to live (and pray!) in the present, reveals all flaws, drawing one on to greater holiness with every step. It is a liturgical experience not just of the Creation narrative, but of liturgy itself, for it is a sacred ritual, intending to do what the Church does, meaning what the Church intends, opening a window to Heaven, and, deeply entering in.


** Please note that the Mass and the Liturgy of the Hours are not devotions. They are Liturgy, and in the case of the Mass (especially every Sunday) it is NECESSARY.  Both the Mass and the LOH are the formal prayer of the Church. While I also pray the rosary as a devotion, it is the Liturgy of the Hours that supersedes it in importance in the life of prayer in the Church and the world.  This should suffice to explain why I listed neither in my 5 favorite devotions.   :-)  


I don't know who to tag as I think everyone has already done this one. So...tag thyself and note thy self-tagging in the combox!

Sacred Heart of Jesus

June is the month dedicated to the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Therefore, in honor of His Most Sacred Heart, I am posting a prayer of consecration and the litany to the Sacred Heart.

Sacred Heart Act of Consecration Prayer
~ by Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque

I, ( your name. . .), give myself and consecrate to the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ my person and my life, my actions, pains, and sufferings, so that I may be unwilling to make use of any part of my being save to honor, love, and glorify the Sacred Heart.

This is my unchanging purpose, namely, to be all His, and to do all things for the love of Him, at the same time renouncing with all my heart whatever is displeasing to Him.

I therefore take Thee, O Sacred Heart, to be the only object of my love, the guardian of my life, my assurance of salvation, the remedy of my weakness and inconstancy, the atonement for all the faults of my life and my sure refuge at the hour of death.

Be then, O Heart of goodness, my justification before God Thy Father, and turn away from me the strokes of His righteous anger. O Heart of love, I put all my confidence in Thee, for I fear everything from my own wickedness and frailty; but I hope for all things from Thy goodness and bounty.

Do Thou consume in me all that can displease Thee or resist Thy holy will. Let Thy pure love imprint Thee so deeply upon my heart that I shall nevermore be able to forget Thee or to be separated from Thee. May I obtain from all Thy loving kindness the grace of having my name written in Thee, for in Thee I desire to place all my happiness and all my glory, living and dying in true bondage to Thee

The Litany of the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Lord, have mercy.
Christ, have mercy.
Lord, have mercy.
Christ, graciously hear us.
God, the Father of Heaven, have mercy on us.
God, the Son, Redeemer of the World, have mercy on us.
God, the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Holy Trinity, one God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, Son of the Eternal Father, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, formed in the womb of the Virgin Mother by the Holy Ghost, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, united substantially with the word of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of infinite majesty, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, holy temple of God, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, tabernacle of the Most High, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, house of God and gate of heaven, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, glowing furnace of charity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, vessel of justice and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, full of goodness and love, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, abyss of all virtues, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, most worthy of all praise, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, king and center of all hearts, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom dwelleth all the fullness of the Divinity, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, in whom the Father is well pleased, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, of whose fullness we have all received, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, desire of the everlasting hills, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, patient and rich in mercy, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, rich to all who invoke Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, fount of life and holiness, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, propitiation for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, saturated with revilings, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, crushed for our iniquities, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, made obedient unto death, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, pierced with a lance, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, source of all consolation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our life and resurrection, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, our peace and reconciliation, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, victim for our sins, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, salvation of those who hope in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, hope of those who die in Thee, have mercy on us.
Heart of Jesus, delight of all saints, have mercy on us.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, spare us, O Lord.
Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, graciously hear us, O Lord,
Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world, have mercy on us.
V. Jesus, meek and humble of Heart.
R. Make our hearts like unto Thine.

Let us pray

Almighty and everlasting God, look upon the Heart of Thy well-beloved Son and upon the acts of praise and satisfaction which He renders unto Thee in the name of sinners; and do Thou, in Thy great goodness, grant pardon to them who seek Thy mercy, in the name of the same Thy Son, Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with Thee, world without end.

Amen

**

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us!

O Most Sacred Heart of Jesus...be our salvation!

Immaculate Heart of Mary....pray for us!

Amen

Talking With God as a Child

Today I read a wonderful post by Msgr. Charles Pope, and found myself alternately nodding along, smiling, laughing, and tearing up with his observations, and in the video he posted.

Children have this incredible gift, that, in their innocence are are fully who they are, they are perfectly honest, and haven't learned the terrible adult habit of censorship. In children, tactlessness is endearing, can be painful to us if we are the target of their observations, and they are shocking in their familiarity with God.

Wait.

Shouldn't we ALL be somewhat shocking in our familiarity with God?

After all, it is through Jesus Christ that we can call God our Father, and even beyond that, we can call Him ABBA! God invites our familiarity, for it is only in knowing Him that we can love him....and in loving Him that we can know Him.

Today I realized what has been lacking my prayer life: childlike familiarity with my Father.  I regularly pray the Liturgy of the Hours and find it to be indispensable;  when I miss an Hour, I feel like a chunk has been taken out of my soul.  If I miss my Rosary, I feel like I'm cheating somehow, and recognize immediately the distinct absence of Our Lady and Jesus in my life, for it means I have chosen my own will above love for Our Lord.

There are times that I go to my Adoration Hour and pray the Liturgy of the Hours as "duty" as opposed to doing it because I love it, and love Our Lord, in whose presence and in whose very words I pray.

There are times that I miss NOT having those devotions, and that faithfulness to the official Prayer of the Church (the LOH).

I've come to a point that even though I know true prayer is an ongoing dialogue with God, and that the Rosary and the LOH are part of that, and facilitate it, it is somehow not...enough.  It almost causes a disconnect, and that disconnect is my fault. It is up to me to not limit myself to what I HAVE to do, but to spend time talking with Jesus, and listening with all my heart and soul.

So what if I've had a bad day?  Why NOT tell Jesus about it and complain to Him?  Perhaps He can help me put the situation in perspective and turn the complaint into a blessing!

And what if I get new running/walking shoes (which I desperately need)....shouldn't I bring both my old and my new ones to the One I profess to love so much?  Why wouldn't He care about such small needs?  Doesn't one who loves another care about the little things?

Children don't hesitate to bring anything to Jesus. They come to Him as they are, they are totally honest in what they are thinking and feeling and believing or not believing.  Isn't He the source and the end of all things? The Alpha and the Omega? Why can't we, as adults, be as honest and direct, for after all, Jesus knows us far more deeply than we know ourselves!

Our humanity is not offensive to Jesus. What is offensive is the denial of our humanity and in our denial, our tacit refusal to rise above the animal nature to cooperate with grace that seeks to elevate us.  How can we be elevated if we refuse to even enter into conversations that bare our souls, giving Our Lord a chance to enter into and elevate us beyond what we can see in our blindness?

I have decided that, during this great season of Lent, I need to focus on being a child again, and  speaking with Jesus with the same forthright honesty, whether or not it puts me in a bad light.  I need to put aside my terrible plague of self-love and be who I am, in all my moods, in my sin, in what is good. I need, in short, to be willing to be child-like in the face of God, a very Teresean Spirituality (St. Therese of Lisieux), knowing my littleness, knowing God's Fatherhood, and recognizing that, truly, spiritually, I am not beyond the level of infancy.

How better to approach God than as a tiny infant? How can He resist? To reach for Him with tiny hands, with little smiles, widened eyes, random giggles, engaged in everything as if for the very first time.  Growing into toddlerhood wanting to know more, to be with He who is loved, gazing upon Him with adoring eyes, focused on every gesture, speaking every word to Him from the heart.

I want to recover this form of child-like prayer, in all its boldness, in all its humility, in all its expression of true respect, honesty, devotion and above all....love.

Pondering the Wound of Charity

For a couple weeks now I've been thinking about love, and by that term, I mean Charity. This comes partially from my Moral Theology class regarding the Theological Virtue of Charity, and partially from my own musings over time on the Passion of Our Lord.

It should go without saying that when I look upon the Crucifix, I see love in its most pure form. There, in that moment, is contained....EVERYTHING. Even I, in my utter insignificance and desolation am caught up and drawn in to those Holy Wounds, becoming even less so that He can be revealed as more.

While attending a talk, some of the words of the priest who was speaking struck me and caused my "contemplative" side to make a connection. Nothing new or interesting, but only one of those little arrows from God that we all experience from time to time, when a teaching is suddenly internalized.

REAL Charity Wounds

I considered how real Charity creates a wound, a blessed wound that continually bleeds in such a way that it can't be staunched. This is not a "mushy" love, but rather, a type of pain not held inward, but expressed outwardly, like the very gush of arterial blood. It can't be contained. Yet the more it gushes, instead of causing mortal death, it rather is the very expression of the font of life.

Every so often I feel that blessed wound, and know that it has changed me. At times the bleeding is only a trickle. At times I staunch the wound myself with my sin, cutting myself off, refusing to serve the Lord. I let the blood flow clot, I wrap it up and I turn away.

It is only through the Sacrament of Confession that I bring that bandage in to be removed, for through God's grace, He reminds me of His own deep love for me, prompting me to realize that I cannot stop this flow and SHOULD not, for by bleeding, my own blood is united with that of Jesus.

I go to Confession and reveal this encrusted, infected bandage, this terrible blockage, this monstrous clot to the priest, who removes it gently and tells me how to let this blood of Charity flow more perfectly, how to, through this wonderful wound, unite myself to the eternal Word who waits only for me to stop placing obstacles in His way.

For when my blood, in this sense, flows, it is truly His, not mine. This wound that in life would be mortal death, in the Spirit, belongs to the mystical nature of our supernatural relationship with our Beloved Savior.

As He suffered and died, so are we all called to do, according to His Most Holy and Divine Will. Not on the natural plane, but the supernatural.

Purity of Love

I have been pondering my own dedication to Jesus, the purity of my love for Him. I have such a devotion to His Passion, and prefer to look upon the bloodiest of crucifixes to remind myself of the blood He shed...for me. I have a hard time accepting that very personal sacrifice, that it was done for ME.

In all honesty, I have a hard time considering that ANYONE would die for me, for I don't think I am worth such a sacrifice. I get caught up in looking at my nothingness, my sins of omission, my lack of importance in the world. Why would ANYONE think my life would be worth THAT sacrifice??? What a waste!

I find it hard to believe anyone would find ME worth dying for. If they were pondering it, I'd stop them and put my own head into the noose, or point the deadly scimitar to my own heart.

In my Pride, I wouldn't let anyone die for me so personally, for if I ever met someone so magnanimous, I would want them to live for they could contribute so much more to the world than me. Someone so brave is worth far more than me. It is I who should go...not them. In fact, I've experienced this, in part...a story for another post.

In any case, I didn't have a choice in the Sacrifice of Christ, did I? So I realize in that thought process that I think as Man thinks, not as God thinks. The God who called me out of eternity, through love and into being, continues to hold me in existence, and in fact, DIED for me on the Cross! In spite of who I am and who I am not.

The more I ponder the Cross, the more I love God, the more I understand the necessity of sacrifice, the more I expect the "curse" of suffering. For in order to be conformed to Christ, we have to suffer and become the Accursed ourselves.

Why Do I Love?

My own Love, my own Charity is imperfect.

The other night, while praying Compline before bed, I gazed upon the Crucifix and upon my picture of Jesus in His Agony. His love for US isn't in question. His very personal love for ME isn't put to the test; it has been clearly defined.

Rather, I considered the hierarchical nature of creation, of the Church, of love itself, and how God's own love begets love. We return to Him what He gives us, and the more we return, the more we grow. The more we allow to flow through us, the more we are given. The font of charity never decreases, but only becomes greater, even if it were to flood the world, it would not be enough.

I looked upon Our Lord and wondered: Do I love Him ONLY because of what He did for me? Is my love for Jesus dependent upon His Sacrifice on my behalf? If so, then it means I only love Him for what He has done for me. It means that my litmus test for God is, "What have you done for me lately"?

Do I love Jesus ONLY for what He did for my Benefit?

Can that be accurate? If so....how SELFISH!

I had to seriously consider that. Am I in love with Jesus just because He is the ONLY one who would ever die for me?

If so...my love is conditional. My love is based ONLY upon something that He DID...not who He IS.

That ISN'T love. Love isn't selfish.

I had to ask myself: if Jesus had NOT died upon the Cross for me, would I still love God? Or would I be selfishly looking for benefits of knowing Him?

Where is my focus? Am I just "receiving" or am I willing to GIVE?

Am I bleeding freely in union with Christ...or am I placing a barrier between my own personal sacrifice and anyone who might benefit from my immolation?

When I look back at the Prophets, at the great Women of Israel; they operated on Faith. They loved God not for what He DID for them, but for Who He IS. Even the Prophets, BEFORE they knew God, loved Him. Before they were privy to the Divine Processions...loved God in a particular purity of heart and intention. They knew the Mystery and loved because they recognized God was worthy of their Love...even before the Sacrifice.

The recognized God, they loved Him, and they poured their ENTIRE BEING out for Him on behalf of their people. It was THEIR sacrifice that preceeded HIS. It was THEIR Sacrifice that was proleptic of HIS and in fact, it was HIS Sacrifice that made theirs both meaningful and possible.

It was their FAITH expressed through WORKS that called down God's Justice. They raised their souls to Him and let their blood flow in a fountain we recognize even today. They sacrificed themselves in divine Charity, Hoping in what they could not see, having Faith in what they did not experience.

That wound of charity, that wound that comes only through the love of Christ Himself, binds mystically as it flows.

It is no wonder this doesn't make sense to the natural world, for it seems oppositional. Yet it is, as we read in the Gospels, that we lose what we try to gain and gain what we are willing to lose.

I realize that I do not love Jesus as I ought. I recognize that my love for Him is conditional, for my blood does not flow freely. I keep bandages on hand so I can stop the arterial rush when it becomes too much for me. I reserve that flow for my own desires, rather than trusting in God. In my imperfection, as that blood overflows, I don't recognize it as grace, but as my life leaving my control and so I grasp even at impure wrappings to slow it all down.

I do not love God as I ought. I have been deeply wounded by the Charity of Our Lord, but instead of letting the blood flow from me as it did from His wounds and His side, I bind it up in fear and trepidation.

Oh, that Jesus would rip those bandages away and force me to hold my hands outward so that His love could overflow!

Why, oh WHY can I not TRUST in His Divine Salvation?

Why, oh Why do I try to staunch the wound given to me through His Love?

Why, oh Why, can I not love as I ought, and why do I attach conditions upon what I am willing to give in spite of what has been so freely given?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!

Embraced by the Word

This evening I found myself at the Cathedral, not initially intending to attend Mass, but rather to just take a break and pray in silence. But I heard Mass begin and decided to leave the Chapel of Mary and enter into the Sacred Liturgy. As I listened to the readings and pondered them in the context of my surroundings, suddenly I was struck by the inherent symbolism of the Cathedral. With my Liturgy midterm exam so fresh in my mind, I considered all the important elements of the liturgy, to include the building itself, all pointing to a God that contains everything.

I regarded the four pillars that hold up the dome of the Cathedral, representing the 4 Gospels. I looked anew at the angels and the depictions of the Virtues. I could see the image of the Holy Spirit over the Baldacchin, and...oh, the Baldacchin! To consider that indeed we are present at the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God! There, right there, we beheld Christ the King, held up, drawing us all to Him, as He promised!

Today, from my particular vantage point at the rear, I had an entirely different view of the altar and the Crucifix which seems somewhat obscured when sitting in the front section, was quite prominent, such that I could not take my eyes off of it. I know that to enter into the Wedding Feast, I must approach the Cross.

I pondered how often I have hurt Him, and how I don't deserve His love. And yet, being there in the Cathedral, I'd had a sense of the immensity of God. There, surrounded by all the signs and symbols of our Faith, in this incredible building consecrated to God, wherin His Glory rests there in the tabernacle, where we enter into His very Presence, I had a sense of being contained in the Word. Being in the Cathedral is like being WITHIN God, surrounded by Him, embraced by Him...contained there within His ever-present love.

The architecture helps us understand, in a sense His immensity in a way that is nearly tangible, and yet, we still understand that He is not contained there Himself, but far transcends it.

I was so touched by the sense of being contained by His Word that, for awhile, I had to fight back tears. It wasn't sadness or joy, but rather a reaction to a Truth about God that perhaps couldn't be expressed in any other way.

It was a moment of enlightenment, realizing my own nothingness in the face of God, the importance of the Sacrifice of Redemption, offered...even for me. Such a realization always inspires one to want to offer something back, even understanding that anything we can offer is insufficient.

All of this brought me into pondering the Cross most especially as I passed by one of the Stations. It stands out starkly on the marble pillar with nothing to distract from the reality of His Passion: Jesus Accepts His Cross.

There it was. Jesus Accepts His Cross.

The thought came to me, that still small voice that always seems to have far more impact than the loudest shouts: Do I accept my Cross, too?

I silently asked Our Lord how to accept my Cross just as he had accepted his own? I asked Him to explain it to me. How do I embrace it? How do I embrace HIM by embracing my Cross? How can my own acceptance of my Cross in any way repay what He has done for me?

I realized how often I had and continue to presume upon His mercy. I realize how often I REJECT his mercy, and in so doing, wound Him even further. I thought about all the times I had rejected Him, offended Him, and stomped on Him in some way, when all Jesus has ever done for me...was love me. Love me so much He DIED for me, a truly horrible death. I knew that I was Jesus' Cross to bear, and yet...He still bears me. He has not thrown me down and abandoned me to corruption.

Spontaneously a prayer came to me, and I bowed my head to offer it back to Him, knowing that if it was of any value at all, it came from the Holy Spirit within me and it was both wisdom for the benefit of my soul, and a sincere offer to Jesus from the depths of my sinful soul.

Dearest Jesus,

The next time someone presumes upon me in any way, help me to remember all the times I have presumed upon You. The next time someone directly insults me, help me to recall the times I have insulted You or blasphemed against You. The next time someone offends me in any way, help me to recall to mind the times I have willfully, obstinately, and grievously offended You with my deliberate sin. The next time I am tempted to be impatient with someone, help me to recall how often you have been patient with me and how long you have waited for me to return to you in contrition. The next time I move to place myself above another, help me to remember how many times you fell as you walked to Calvary. The next time someone attacks me for any reason, before I give in to anger, help me to remember how You bore Your agony in silence and forgave Your attackers, begging Your Father to forgive them for they knew not what they were doing. Help me to realize that when I offend you, I DO know what I am doing, and yet...you still forgive me, over and over again.

Help me, Jesus, to recall your last words as you hung upon the Cross, dying: "Father, into Your hands I commend my spirit".

Let me arise each morning with this prayer on my lips as a reminder to die to myself in every moment so that I may be free to live for You.

Amen.

The truth is that we embrace our own Crosses by accepting HIS; for they are one and the same. In embracing our Crosses, we recognize who we really are and how desperately we need Our Beloved Savior. The only way to live for Christ is to be willing to die to ourselves and unite our sinfulness with His Passion and Death; only there can we be redeemed.

Jesus, into Your Hands I commend my Spirit.

*

St. Therese of Lisieux

Like so many, I have long loved St. Therese of Lisieux, and at times in the past she has made her intercession known to me.

I specifically recall one evening, I'd gone to the church for Adoration and decided to go to Confession. I didn't have anything major to confess, although all the sins of my past were weighing on me heavily; I wasn't accepting of God's mercy, I was angry about several things (the new-revert syndrome, as I call it), and was quietly weeping in a corner of the chapel, near St. Therese's statue.

A woman I didn't know came up to me and handed me a little booklet as she whispered, "I came here today to give this to someone, but that person isn't here. I think I'm supposed to give it to you." I thanked her, and, wiping my eyes, stared down at this little home-made much-copied folded-paper booklet of prayers and devotions of St. Therese of Lisieux.

St. Therese and the Priesthood

If I recall correctly, St. Therese had a special love for the priesthood, a special devotion for this great gift Christ had left us, all so that we could be brought closer to Him through His chosen Ministers.

I have to wonder if maybe my own devotion to the priesthood began with my devotion to St. Therese of Lisieux? It is something to ponder, for the Saints never point to themselves; when we involve them in our prayer life, they direct us towards Our Lord, and to towards anything that will deepen our love for Him.

I don't recall what Saint said it, or if it was a private revelation to a saint, but I do remember reading the words, "The greatest way to honor Jesus is to honor the priesthood!" (Could it have been St. John Vianney?)

Ah, but so I've wandered in this post, as I usually do.

Flowers from Heaven

So many people say they have received roses from St. Therese. Fr. MacRae posted a particularly touching story yesterday on his blog, one I needed to read for I needed a reminder of the miraculous. Especially this week.

I've never received a rose from St. Therese. I don't think I've ever actually received roses from anyone, for that matter, although I used to pray for them all the time. While I've received signs of her intercession, it was apparently never God's will that I receive a physical rose, and maybe that's for the best.

After all...flowers wilt and die and God knows I can't keep green things alive.

But I rejoice that others do receive this sign, for even knowing their stories and witnessing their miracles, I take heart knowing that prayers are not spoken in vain and indeed, St. Therese is making good on her promise to shower roses from heaven upon the earth for those who most need such a sign of God's love.

I've been praying for a rose this week, though, admittedly not with much faith. If it be God's will, the Saint will send a rose. If not, my faith (or currently, lacking faith) will not be affected.

The one thing we always have to keep in mind is that our belief, our Faith, does not rest on miraculous signs, but rather, on the Cross and Resurrection. If we are not receiving signs, perhaps it is because we've been called to the Cross, and in the shadow of that, the greatest Sign in history, a rose simply has no beauty to compare to the redemptive sacrifice of Our Lord.

*

Kissing the Cross

A funny thing happened to me on the way to the convent; I got laryngitis. Actually, it hit me in the parlor while meeting with one of the Mothers just after my arrival. I'd been sick before I left and thought I was over it, but no, apparently not. And oddly enough, I didn't have a sore throat, I felt fine, just had a cough which wasn't even, at least initially, that bad!

Yes, yes, break out the jokes about how it was God's way of telling me to "shut up and listen", which really was an unnecessary message as I LOVED all the silences and sought them out whenever I could. As it was, though, that was the joke of the week with the Sisters and I was in on propagating it!

I think though, that God used it to impart to me a very different message. Not the harsh "shut up" but rather, a lesson in the Cross, in surrender, and embracing suffering.

Relics

The Novitiate at the convent had in their refrectory a relic of the True Cross, which I was invited to kiss while Mother K. was giving me the tour. At the time although my laryngitis hadn't fully manifested, I knew it was there and wasn't looking good. So my initial prayer as I kissed the Cross was that Our Lord, in His Mercy, would stave off this particular illness. I knew that the Sisters would be asking me questions, that I would have questions, and of course, I was mortified by the idea that upon my arrival in the convent I was sick! This was one of my nightmares!

I later learned there was another relic of the True Cross in a little shrine near the chapel, this one in a more ornate reliquary with a lit candle near it, and I often visited both relics and kissed them during my time there.

Yet it was on that first day and the following that, because of my unexpected and seeminly illogical illness, coupled with the grace of being able to kiss the Cross that made me meditate on that action, Our Lord's suffering...and what it meant.

A Kiss

What is a kiss but a sign of sincere love? It is intimate, it is intentional, it is physical, a motion that begins interiorly and is expressed exteriorly.

In kissing the relic of the True Cross, upon which Jesus hung in His act of Redemption, my kiss was intended to be an act of true love and devotion for Him, and in that, a recognition of His own love for me. I did not intend to be a Judas, offering a kiss in exchange for the blood money already held.

Later, in the chapel while I had some time to really meditate, I first spent some time praying that I wouldn't lose my voice, that God would remove this particular cross so that my week of discernment would be done in health and not this very inconvenient illness. And of course, my prayer was interrupted with a coughing jag. And even then I lamented my condition and begged even harder to be delivered from my suffering.

That's when it hit me; I had just kissed the Cross.

In contrition for my presumption, I gazed upon the crucifix that adorned the altar and took in our Savior twisted and contorted in torment, realizing that this is what He calls me to do as well. It is impossible to be united with Jesus without also being subject to suffering.

To kiss the Cross means that we love the Cross and we love Our Lord who died for us. To kiss the Cross is to love suffering. It is to love humility and mortification. The greatest act of love is imitation, therefore if we truly love Jesus, we must be willing to imitate Him...even unto His suffering and death.

My prayer then, was both arrogant and a betrayal. I kissed the Cross and asked for comfort. I made an act of love and then denied it by refusing to be conformed to the One I profess to love. Who am I to question the will of God, who cannot be taken by surprise and who KNEW I would suffer this illness through my retreat? I knew I should see it as a gift helping me to be more united to Him, and not an irritation that separated us.

It is my own actions, my own unwillingness to surrender to God's will that separates me from Him. Not a mere illness.

In fact, it was that illness that brought me face-to-face with Him and reminded me of the value and necessity of the Cross and the real meaning of love.

Upon this realization, I bowed my head, knowing God was with me, and said to Him, "Thy will be done. Not mine. Yours." In that moment, I embraced my suffering, which, as I've written, was not limited to the physical but became a spiritual struggle that never abated for a single moment.

From then on, each time I kissed the relics of the Cross, I made an act of surrender, resolving in my love of Jesus to also love the Cross and everything that comes with it. To embrace my sufferings if not in joy, then at least in acceptance and docility.

We are not given Crosses in order to chase us away from God, but rather to conform us more perfectly to Him, for we cannot find Him unless we are willing to be subject to His Passion.

We have to ask ourselves, each time we make the Sign of the Cross...do we mean what we pray? Do we understand what we are doing and how it must change us? Are we willing to imitate Christ only if it is comfortable to do so?

When we kiss the Cross, is our action a betrayal or a true act of devotion and love for Jesus?

*

Bittersweet Agony

Today I took the day off work and drove down to my hometown to honor the life and memory and offer prayers for a man who was a father figure for me in some very difficult years.  

The other night at my brother's house, we discussed our memories of our friend and near-relative, realizing together how like a father he was to us.  He had no children of his own, but was one of those people who was often called upon for help...and he was always there.  He taught me to drive, he taught me how to shoot and handle weapons, and he taught me how to Polka. He and my brother had a special connection through their love of music and the guitar.

Dancing the Polka

Oh, yes.  I still remember the evening P.  taught me to dance.  

I grew up in a town that contained three Catholic churches, all within walking distance, and that evening Mom and I went to the Saturday vigil Mass at St. Lawrence, then attended the parish festival afterwards.  A polka band played loudly, we could smell hamburgers and popcorn, barbecue sandwiches and cole slaw....all to the lively rhythm of polka.  

I remember that he invited me to dance, and I didn't know how. His wife told me to go...she loved dancing, said he could show me how. And indeed, he did. He loved to dance, he loved music, he loved people, and in between our convesations about guns and law enforcement, we hit the pavement of the parking lot and danced a lively jig while others walked the cakewalk or tipped back a brew in the beer tent.  

He and Mom had grown up together, and he was a natural part of our family. Even though he wasn't really a cousin to me, he was so for Mom. Today Mom told us how he helped to tear down the barn at the old family farm when she was a child, and I remember from years ago her confession that he taught her how to smoke after he came back from the Vietnam War.  

She doesn't smoke anymore.  

Today was hard.  I walked into the Church of the Immaculate Conception, not realizing how small it really was. The last time I'd been there, it was the largest parish in our town, and it's where the "rich people" attended Mass.  But it was a beautiful Church, constructed of grey stone, the sanctuary was a a perfect grotto, with a couple small rose windows.  I took in the beautiful stained glass, wishing that, as a teen, I'd understood what was there.  With no surprise, after we were seated in a pew, I looked up at a wonderful window depicting Christ in His Agony.  How appropriate.  

One of my greatest devotions is  to Jesus in His Agony in the Garden. 

The funeral was quite dignified, the deacon who gave the homily was family to our beloved deceased, and spoke clearly and accurately, in both a rememberance and an exhortation to exemplify Christ.  

But it was hard to believe who we were sending off.  I still can't quite grasp that he's gone.  

I guess I'm still in the agony.  

Clustering

This was the last time I'll be in that church.  It seems that Immaculate Conception is scheduled to be razed at some point in the near future.  This town that used to have three Catholic churches has only one now, spread in between different properties. They are building another one on the outskirts of the city, and once I saw the model, I wept. It is the typical modern design. Typical lateral theology. I understand building a new church...I don't understand why modern architects can't honor the sacred architecture that draws us uncompromisingly towards Christ and takes us out of ourselves.  

I took a few photos before I left, quite conscious of the fact that our departed friend would have been doing the same, as the holder of the office of picture-taking.  

En route out of town, I stopped at my home parish, where I'd been Confirmed when I was fifteen. The funeral reception was supposed to be there, although the guests were still at the cemetary.  In the solitude, I went inside and into the sanctuary where I'd spent so many hours of my life as a teenager.  

The church was dark, but Christ was still present, evidenced by the flickering red candle on the right side altar, just as He'd always been.  This house of God wasn't the same, but at least it wasn't vacant.  

The white marble altar on the right that held the tabernacle was so familiar, and so was the matching one on the left, sporting the Risen Christ.

The church was too dark to take photographs, but it was perfect for prayer.  I walked up the aisle on the right, passing the detailed stained glass windows. Remembering the same walk every Sunday, remembering Confessions made in this very space.  Remembering...

 Nearing the front, I knelt, right in the side aisle, knowing I had to apologize.  For all the years I entered the Presence of Christ...and did not acknowledge Him.  For all the years I cantored, not even understanding the meaning of that candle.  I knelt there, on the same thin, tan carpet, remembering all the years spent in that church.  But not knowing what it was all about.  Still understanding that in my ignorance, Jesus had taken over, and I am only alive because of that time spent at His feet.  

It's still home.  Jesus is still there. He always was, even though I didn't understand.  Even though I didn't know Him...He knew me.  

I'll never forget the arching supports, I'll never forget that side altar, I'll never forget standing in the choir, singing for Jesus, playing my flute for Jesus.  

It used to be so big, and now....it seems so small. 

Sacred Heart has already been partially stripped.  The big crucifix is gone, moved to the new construction. I hear they've taken the tabernacle from St. Lawrence, and I pray they save the stained glass from ALL the churches. That is art that cannot be reproduced.  It's our history. Our patrimony.  The white cloth that represents the resurrection in the place of the absent Cross does nothing other than emphasize the impending demolition of the buliding. 

Today has been such a strange day. It's been a trip through my pre-teen through graduation years. Our old house is still there, but painted, and somewhat run down.  Our our church...losing ground.  It's not the vibrant place it was when we arrived. I'll never forget Father P. who made us so welcome, whose big hands were always read to grasp ours. He died of cancer only a few years after we moved to that town.  But our parish embraced us. It became home.  

I prayed to Father today, asking for his intercession.  The hall below is named for him...and now that hall will be sold.  Where does his memory go?  We are his children...where do we go?

The bell towers are silent, the bells having been moved to the new contraption they call a "church".  

I wished I had more time today. I wished I could stay in the shadows of the Sacred Heart, reaching for the elusive light cast by the flickering candle.  But I couldn't. 

I did kneel before the sacred shrine to Our Lady of Guadalupe, a shrine I've twice visited in Mexico. That wasn't there in my teen years, although our hispanic population was growing.  It is clear they found a home at Sacred Heart, too. It's so sad; those who found a home away from their own country are having to flee again.    

In my life as a suburban Catholic, I've congratulated myself and my diocese of avoiding the heartache that has attacked so many others around the country.  And meanwhile, back home, still in the same diocese,  my own home is being lost.  One church has already been sold, the tabernacle take away.  Today when I  drove past, I crossed myself, thinking Christ was there. He wasn't.  Jesus has left the building...and it's no longer a church. Just a bunch of stones, heaped one upon another. Once a witness to God's glory, now...just a shell of memories to be razed or remodeled according to the whim of the buyer.  

What a gift to enter Sacred Heart.  Jesus was waiting.  There I was, how many years later?  Coming home.  Kneeling in adoration.  Remembering the liturgies, the choir rehearsals...my first Christmas as a flautist.  My first experience, at Christmas, as a Cantor. The book thrust into my hands with the command from the choir director:  "Sing this!" as she took off to assist where help was needed. 

What child is this, who laid to rest, in Mary's lap is sleeping?  

The shadows spoke to me.  The glow from the windows.  The flicker of the presence of Christ.  

Surely it is God who saves me, I will trust in Him and not be afraid...  ~ 1st Song of Isaiah

It wasn't an elaborate church, but it was welcoming. It was reverent.  It made sense. It draws one to Christ.  

When I turned to go, in the back stood my brother, who had arrived with Mom, and waited for me.  Almost embarassed, I joined him, and took a photograph of the stained glass depicting the namesake:  The Sacred Heart of Jesus. 

I said goodbye to my family today, there in the basement of that parish hall, where we'd spent so many years.  I walked up the steps alone, and knelt in the center aisle, bowing to Jesus.  Atoning for all those years of ignorance.  Knowing He understood.  

A bittersweet homecoming.  A little girl grown up. Another home lost. 

A new parish formed, from the vestiges of the old.  

Fr. Peichel,  pray for us.  

Sacred Heart of Jesus...have mercy on us.  

Divine Heart of Jesus...I trust in thee. 

Prayer of Surrender

This is a re-post, and a prayer that is much needed for us all.

PRAYER OF SURRENDER

Lord Jesus Christ, I ask the grace to accept the sadness in my heart, as your will for me, in this moment. I offer it up, in union with your sufferings, for those who are in deepest need of your redeeming grace. I surrender myself to your Father's will and I ask you to help me to move on to the next task that you have set for me.

Spirit of Christ, help me to enter into a deeper union with you. Lead me away from dwelling on the hurt I feel:

to thoughts of charity for those who need my love
to thoughts of compassion for those who need my care, and to thoughts of giving to those who need my help.
As I give myself to you, help me to provide for the salvation of those who come to me in need.

May I find my healing in this giving.
May I always accept God's will.
May I find my true self by living for others in a spirit of sacrifice and suffering.
May I die more fully to myself, and live more fully in you.

As I seek to surrender to the Father's will, may I come to trust that he will do everything for me.

With Ecclesiastical Approval

adapted from the spiritual teachings of Rev. Walter J. Ciszek, SJ.

The Father Walter Ciszek Prayer League, Inc.,
231 North Jardin Street
Shenandoah, PA 17976
(570) 462-2270

Official Organization for the Promotion of the Cause of Canonization of REV. WALTER J. CISZEK, S.J.

Be Still and Know That I Am God

The other morning I stopped into the Adoration Chapel to pray Morning Prayer. The chapel had a few people in it, all retired people, some maybe from the nearby assisted-living. When I stop in during the day, that's the usual "crowd", and it always makes me remember my p's and q's. For example...I feel like I have to be EXTRA quiet, and dress very properly. I know these people remember what it was like prior to Vatican II, and even when I walk in with capris and a nice top, I've caught a glimpse of disapproving stares. I don't belong to a rad-trad parish, but I DO know that we have a large number of very devoted Catholics. And maybe it's my own guilty concience if I wear shorts in the chapel, knowing that my outfit would not be tolerated in many churches in secularized Europe But I digress.

As I was praying the other day, a woman quickly came into the chapel, very reverent, and knelt, in very quick movements, but very reverently. She sat down in the row in front of me, the next chair over, and proceeded to quickly pull out a STACK of printed prayers and devotions. Every movement she made was done very quickly with a sense of almost desperate urgency.

I was kneeling and had my breviary open in front of me, reading quietly, occasionally stopping to digest some line or some other related thought popping into my head. Before she had come, the chapel had been so quiet, so peaceful...but suddenly this person appeared and....well...

She was a fidgiter.

Normally I'm not too disturbed by people coming and going in the chapel. I might look up, but that's my own hyper-vigilance bourne out from years of training and attitude. I'm not usually too bothered by these people and quickly can return to what I'm doing, even forgetting what or whom I saw.

But the fidgiters...they're a whole 'nuther story.

They're very devout, typically, excellent Catholics, know their faith or at least tend to seek more knowledge, and always...they are seeking greater devotion. These people (always women, in my observation) clearly love Jesus and are seeking greater union with Him. It's a wonderful thing, and I love these people. They're the backbone of the parish.

But they don't seem to know what it means to "Be still and know that I am God."

As I'd mentioned, the woman in question came in with a stack of prayers on various papers, and I think she had a few small booklets, too. As she was immediately in front of me and just to the side, I couldn't help but be distracted, no matter how much I tried to focus on my own conversation with our Lord.

She paged through her papers, pulled one and then another out, variously reading them through. Her movements were rapid, she was trying to be quiet, but it wasn't the noise that was distracting; it was the movement. The constant movement. She moved in and out of her row several times, likely for various devotions, only to return to her stack and go through it for the next thing, only to set that down, maybe go through her purse again for another leaflet, maybe finding it in another place.

I don't know what devotions she was trying to complete. All I knew was that her body language of worry and quickness intruded into my own prayer, and made me try even harder to shut it out, to realize I had to be willing to deal with others and their methods of prayers.

In moments like that, I try to remember what St. Therese of Lisieux said about the Sister with the rosary that constantly rattled against the pew. I know that I need to deal with this thorn in my side, and so, in the end, I'm not irritated, only distracted. There's no sin in distraction, only temptation.

The woman in question got out of her pew once again, knelt in the center aisle, crossed herself very quickly and irregularly, several times, and then returned to her seat, collected her things, and left the chapel, quickly, silently. And again..it wasn't that she was making noise. It was her constant movement that was distracting.

On Prayer

So let's talk about prayer a little bit, for this woman is not alone. A priest who was at my parish previously once gave a talk in which this behavior was addressed; he spoke of people who come to the chapel for Adoration, but they bring a stack of prayers and devotions. They don't remain still ; they are constantly in movement, offering their novenas and litanies and list of prayers that * must* be said. And then they leave.

He asked, "Where, in all that, have they had time to LISTEN to Jesus?"

I've taken his words to heart. Although I've never gone so crazy on devotions, the temptation has been there. I've found wonderful novenas, captivating litanies, several prayers applicable to my situation or the situations of others, and really....lots of things that could take up an hour or even a brief visit.

As it is, it's tempting to just drop into the chapel and let loose with my own complaints, supplications and demands. None of us is without a laundry-list of issues to bring to the foot of the cross.

But that's NOT what Adoration is about.

Sure, Our Lord invites us to bring our concerns, ask for help, petition on behalf of others, and pray our litanies that honor Him and His Mother and the Saints. Those prayers are important. But maybe it's even MORE important to just come to Him and sit at His feet, silently, allowing Him, for once, to speak to US. To love us. To be present with us, and help us to understand how to be present with Him.

Adoration is not about the nearly-obsessive compulsion to pray a thousand devotions, to "get through" them each time, no matter how many indulgences they carry. If we're only rushing from one prayer to the next, seeking one indulgence, then another, with a desperate neediness to complete the words in the time we have...that's NOT prayer. It's...words. It's EXACTLY what Jesus cautioned us AGAINST! The multiplication of words does not get us or others to heaven!

One Hail Mary, spoken deliberately and with devotion, is far more valuable than a thousand litanies spoken without a thought other than to get the words out in a specific period of time.

I love devotions, and many devotions draw us into contemplation. But not when we're praying one devotion while thinking about the next one we HAVE to complete during our "prayer time."

Compare it to this: You are going to visit a friend you highly respect and love dearly, more so than your own life. And so, when you visit them, you rush in, skip a calm "hello" in favor of rattling off a bunch of things you think this person needs to know. And as soon as you get through your list, you're off. In the meantime, your dear friend listens patiently, not able to get a word in edgewise, and then in exasperation watches you rush off, knowing that he has something to say to you that, for once, will give you some peace.

And the amazing thing...this friend will take this abuse over and over, as long as He needs to.

But what He really wants is a relationship with you.

Jesus appreciates the honor of your visit, the litanies, the intercessions, and WANTS to hear of your troubles. Even though He already knows you more intimately that you know yourself, He wants you to talk to Him about it. And He wants to respond to you. And sometimes, like any good friend, he wants to just spend time with you, even in silence.

There's nothing like companionable silence, where both understand one another and can simply exist together.

THAT is contemplation.

So many sincerely devout Catholics become so focused on what is written that they forget that prayer is relational and requires reception of the other half of the conversation. And sometimes, it requires hearing ALL of the side of the other.

It's not that I'm not guilty of this. I've gone into the chapel with my own laundry list, and even now that I'm praying LOH, I have to take care not to rush through the prayers because sometimes Jesus uses only one line to get my attention. If I'm praying a litany, sometimes it's one title that makes me stop.

Sometimes the devotion isn't about completing the devotion, but being willing to listen to Jesus as He tells us what about that prayer is important in our relationship with Him.

In speaking with a priest this afternoon, we both lamented that people can't seem to get through the written devotions in order to grasp the beauty of contemplative prayer. It's not that everyone experiences mysticism, but rather, that they are willing to put aside the STUFF and just engage with Jesus, one on one.

There are so many beautiful devotions in our tradition, and they ARE important; but they are only tools. If we let the tools take control, then we are not developing a relationship with our Beloved; we are building obstacles.

So to all Catholics who love Jesus and love their devotions; please take note of what you're doing with your time and take even a day to leave your stack home. Just be present with Jesus, knowing that even if you don't know what to say...He DOES. And if you ALLOW Him to speak, you'll be amazed at what He has to say.

I promise.

For those of you who don't have the Blessed Sacrament exposed, know that Christ is just as present in the Tabernacle, and values your presence there where He is hidden just as much as He does where He is exposed in the monstrance. Truth be told, although my parish has Perpetual Adoration, I've had some of my most intimate encounters with God in the church where Christ is present but enclosed.

Jesus is there. He is waiting, and all he needs is a little bit of silence...and He will change your life forever.

I promise.

The Rosary

I used to hate the rosary.

Yup. I said that. We learned it as children, but Mom instituted it when we were already agitated. Although, I have to admit that she likely did it at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and Our Lady herself...and as you'll see, that small thing is bearing fruit today.

I remember Mom teaching us the rosary during bedtime prayers. First just the prayers, and then one day she made us pray a decade with her. We didn't like it; it was boring and repetetive and we didn't want to do it. And I think that over a couple weeks or a month we built up to a full rosary, which Mom explained as we went, and she used pictures. But we resented the intrusion into our playtime. (Parents...start the rosary BEFORE they consider it an intrustion!)

Well, I think Mom got frustrated and maybe "gave up" or maybe it was just that she got busy. In any case, we went awhile without praying it. But we knew Mom's favorite phrase: "A family that prays together, stays together!"

To this day, I can't hear or read that phrase without an instinctive cringe and twinge of resentment.

Then appeared my particular fear of storms, arising out of my original fear and excaberated by the tree falling on our house. We had an evening of storms, some of them severe, and our power went out. I was crying and terrified, Mom was closing windows and trying to calm us, and even the dog was shaking. Mom decided right then and there that it was time to pray the rosary again. And for once, I didn't argue even though I didn't want to do it. But we sat down in the kitchen, watched the storm, and prayed the rosary.

Incidentally, that was ALSO the night that someone called us during the storm. Mom, still leading us in prayer, paused and asked us to wait. She went to the phone, picked it up, and instead of saying "Hello" like a normal person she said, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, the Lord is with thee...." And then realized she was answering the phone! Talk about breaking the tension!

When she hung up we finished the rosary.

I've written of this before, but of course, I went on not liking the rosary. But Mom had found something that worked; pray it with us when something scary was happening. Maybe she saw something in us that we couldn't see. I've heard many stories from many parents. We one night prayed it while watching fire trucks pass by our house a few times on the highway, seeking the fire in our unmapped neighborhood. Mom lead the charge first in our family rosary, and then left to find the family that needed help. We were old enough to remain alone. Although we were in the middle of a severe storm, Mom found it necessary to make certain that our neighbors were all right. I think my brother and I actually finished the rosary on our own, out of obedience to Mom. My brother was in charge, and he was always the more obedient one as it related to Mom and what she wanted.

That same summer, there was another storm, and in that one, as Mom and my brother rushed around, I was in a panic on the livingroom step. And so I prayed the rosary, badly, but still praying. My brother made fun of me. Mom rejoiced in her distracted way as she battened down the hatches.

Even when I wasn't aware, the rosary has figured nto my life prominently, for Mom was always praying it for me, even if she didn't realize why. Good mothers always pray the rosary; for the Blessed Mother can see what the rest of humanity cannot. Through praying the gospels, Mary always brings us to our Lord and Savior, her beloved Son.

I went years without praying it, and I think one day, struggling in my last job, prayed it on Mondays. And that eventually became a habit of praying it every day en route to work. That lead to a period of Eucharistic Adoration over my lunch hour, which I wasn't able to carry on due to the work situation. But that time of intense prayer carried me through, and often I prayed the Rosary or Divine Mercy during that time, and I wept while doing so. Slowly, my friendship with Mary was growing.

Even now, I usually pray the Rosary en route to work, although some days I do not. Yet, I find that it has become a habit, and if I don't pray it in the car, something seems wrong somehow. And some days I don't "feel like" praying it and think that my prayers are "useless" in my distraction.

It is then that I'm reminded of Fr. Corapi's powerfully-stated words: "THERE'S NO SUCH THING AS A BAD ROSARY!"

I'm also reminded of another Saint, maybe Our Lady herself, who told someone that it's better to say 1 Hail Mary with great devotion than an entire rosary in distraction. And yet the former does not contradict the latter, for any prayer to Our Lady is efficacious, and she can take over where we have become lost. A more engaged prayer is always more efficacious, but if we are struggling, it's better to persevere than to give up. God asks us to struggle sometimes, in order that He can bring about a greater good, and that greater good in that case can become the virtues of fortitude and perseverance, which take us beyond prayer and innundate our entire lives if we will only let them.

I used to hate the Rosary. And even now I can't say I love to pray it "in community" for I find it to be a distraction (the different paces and vocal pitches drive me CRAZY!) But alone, in my car, it becomes a conversation, it brings answers to problems, and it builds the relationship between my Lord and I no matter where I am.

Thanks to Mom for teaching us this devotion, especially in a crisis; for praying it in crisis as a child lead me to praying it in crisis as an adult, and it has lead to praying it regularly as a part of my everyday life.

Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee. Blessed are thou amongst women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

First Friday!

Today is a First Friday, a devotion I've held now for a few years. The Sacred Heart of Jesus was always a very prominent theme in the home where I grew up, and when I experienced my own conversion, Jesus continued to come to me in this image through pamphlets, holy cards, and random reminders of His heart burning with love for us all.

I often don't make it to daily mass for many reasons, but I tend to do all I can to get there on a First Friday, and usually go to Confession within days (either day of or maybe day after). It's a beautiful devotion, and I encourage all of you to learn about it and practice this devotion.

Bride of Christ

Yesterday at work, I was rushing to finish preparing for the First Communion Masses. 'Tis the season! Many parishes have begun them, many are still amidst the childhood sacraments, and some of us are finally arriving at the dates. This is my first one, my first year preparing these little souls for the sacrament...and yesterday all I could think was that I was forgetting something!

I spoke with Father with regard to a few things, relieved that the sacristan and he would take care of some of the issues. I asked him, "My gosh, why am I so nervous? I feel like I'm planning a WEDDING!"

And that's when it hit me; that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm planning a wedding for Jesus. The symbolism of the white dress and veil for little girls isn't accidental. They ARE little Brides. (And don't tell the boys, but they're brides, too, in this context.) For Catholics, the word "Bride" applies to us all, each time we receive Christ in Holy Communion. Each Mass is a wedding, and we are reminded that Jesus gives Himself to us, body, blood, soul and divinity, and calls us all to give ourselves to him, completely. It is a marriage.

And this figures in so closely with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, burning with love for us. The Eucharistic Miracle at Lanciano, when tested in the 1980's revealed the flesh to be specifically cardiac muscle...heart muscle. Jesus quite literally gives us His Most Sacred Heart.

How appropriate that our First Communions begin just after a First Friday, and in fact, on a First Saturday, comemorating the Immaculate Heart of Mary. And I'll let YOU ponder the significance of that!

V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Immaculate Heart of Mary
R. Pray for us.

Holy Thursday

Stay with me
Remain with me
Watch, and pray....


Tonight, the Blessed Sacrament has been carried to the Altar of Repose, and all the tabernacles in the world stand open and empty. We are invited to remain with Jesus, praying with Him until Midnight, offering Him consolation in His sorrow for our betrayal.

It is this very night that we commemorate the beginning of His Passion; the Hour is at hand. It is this night that Jesus' agony was so intense that his sweat was as blood, and He prayed from the depths of this terrible suffering.

"My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will."

Jesus was perfectly resigned to the will of the Father; and just as the Fall took place in a garden, so our Redemption begins in the same way. And Jesus invites us into His Passion, to stay with Him, to pray with Him, to watch, and wait...for His hour is at hand.

Teaching the Parents

Tonight I had my first experience with the parents of the sacramental class this year. In this parish, while the children are enrolled in a weekly program of formation (or in religion class in the school), the sacraments themselves are taught at home, by the parents. So tonight was an orientation for the parents.

Father, the DRE, and I agree that this is a grand opportunity for formation for the parents, many of which are not really practicing Catholics; they belong to that demographic that sees Confession as being a hoop for their child to jump through just to get the great experience of the pomp and circumstance of First Communion.

Now, there are also a lot of parents who are dedicated Catholics and could teach circles around me...and so they should. But still, they attend, and my guess is that these parents likely help the others.

Tonight was the orientation for First Confession, which will happen during Advent. For weeks, I've been trying to figure out what to say. A couple weeks ago I walked down the hall, into the Adoration chapel with the red USCCB Catechism, thinking to write an outline as though for RCIA, hitting all the main points. And that's when Jesus spoke.

I learned last year that when preparing a lesson, it's very important to go to Jesus for input. What does HE want taught in that class? Who needs to hear certain words? I don't know that...but Jesus does. What if I don't understand a relevant scripture...no matter. Jesus can explain it.

So although I figured to use the book the bishops recommend, Jesus had other plans. My routine in these situations is to go into the chapel and just pray. If I don't have words, to just kneel in silence with the Lord, and offer him my lack of direction. He will answer when it is time. Well, I thought it had to be time because I was really STUCK! Nothing I wanted to do seemed right, it was uninspiring, too elementary...or too theological. (Being a grad student does that).

Well, Jesus answered that day. Although my catechism was next to me, suddenly a starting point came to me. What is sin? A rejection of God's love. Disordered Love (St. Thomas Aquinas), an abuse of freedom.

What did Adam and Eve do when they sinned? They hid from God. Great point! That's what I did, too. That's what we all do.

What was Jesus' mission? Forgiveness. Mercy. Definitive love. The gospel is full of Jesus forgiving sin, and each is a personal encounter. Bartimaeus, the paralytic (a few of them!), and the sinful woman who washed and annointed his feet. Jesus recognized and drew attention to the interior, recognizing faith, repentance, contrition, belief...all of that...

Jesus passed this ministry onto the Apostles. How? He breathed on them, just as God breathed life into Adam. He gave them the power to forgive sin.

The Bible is a love story, all about God reaching out to reconcile his people to him, his people who run and hide when they reject him. God does not reject us; we reject him. And so God continues to reach out, and he did this ultimately by sending his own Son to die, to overturn the sin in the Garden of Eden.

How do we respond to God's mercy? We have free will. Free to run and hide. Free to come to him in tears and repentance...and we do this in Confession. The priest is in persona Christi, so it is Christ who hears us, always.

As I was writing all of this, I knew as I had from the beginning that I had to tell my 12 year Confession story, my identity as "Bartimaeus". And so it was important to read that particular gospel.

And the connection...the parents must teach this to their children. They are called to holiness, to live that example, every day. They are the primary catechists. Not the school. Faith is learned and reinforced in the home, and in 20 years, the kids won't remember their catechists at faith formation, they won't remember the books...but they will remember the actions and living faith of their parents.

I explained how my Mom's faith affected my conversion, and told them that now is the time to act upon that...now is the time to toe the line, to be that example.

So, all this was written in the Adoration chapel. It was Jesus who wrote it...not me. I could not have done this. I didn't know what to say. Jesus did.

That day, I left the chapel and put the scribbles in my notebook into a coherent outline, and something told me to bring it to Father, for a few reasons: I am new. While he trusted me enough to hire me, he still needs to know what I'm teaching. While the DRE is indeed my boss, so is he, and when it comes to the sacraments, it's more important that he is involved than the DRE. So I found him in his office and we sat down with the outline. He liked it, felt that it covered what needed to be covered, and made some suggestions for things to add to the presentation...but he didn't suggest anything more for the content of my talk.

And that's the other reason I went to him; one was a trust issue, that he should know what is being taught. The other is a practical issue; I needed to know that this plan was what was expected, what he envisioned needed to be done, and I needed direction if there were missing elements. Which there were, and I took all of his offered suggestions. He said he would not be present for the orientation, which was also important for me to know. Fine.

So...tonight was the first of two orientations for the parents. And I've never spoken to such a hostile crowd.

Yup. You heard me correctly. Not everyone was hostile, but there were a few, and it was written all over them. They didn't want to be there. They were offended that it is their duty to teach their children the faith. Some were bored...simply not interested in engaging. Some looked angry about what I was saying. Some just had poker faces that gave nothing away, although by their body language I could see they were more hostile than interested.

But I wasn't speaking tonight to make myself look good; I was speaking because these people needed that message of mercy; that Jesus isn't just there for their children; he is there for them as well, and waiting for them, all the time.

And I'll admit; it was difficult at times to realize that my words were being rejected. But when I told my confession story, well, I could see heads nod. I could see some of them coming to life, but most...still hostile. They didn't like where I was going. I was not telling them what they wanted to hear. Thank God for that.

Those who were nodding and smiling, I'll tell you right now they gave me strength, identifying themselves immediately as allies, people of faith, people who understand the grace of the sacrament, people who have experienced God's mercy.

Overall, it went well, and didn't take the whole hour as planned, which is fine. There was time for questions (I didn't answer them all adequately or correctly, with regard to some of the process regarding the books), and I have things to follow up on. Only a few people were clearly unhappy, but the DRE was there and did assist with some of the questions, and for that I'll be eternally grateful. She won't be around for Thursday's group, though. And she added her own confession story, for she is a convert...I think the next group will be sadly deprived.

One of the things I did to prepare tonight was to ask my Guardian Angel to go around and speak with everyone present, to help smoothe the waters. I spent some time in Adoration a couple hours ahead of time, and afterward, I went back to the chapel to thank Jesus. After all, these are His people; they are his to convert, his to teach, his to calm. But this wasn't done without some adversity; the microphone did not work, and we tried a few of them. Nuthin'. I had to "project". (Thank God for my time in theatre!). But of course, I'm getting a cold, and wasn't sure my voice would last.

Can we say "spiritual battle"? God prevailed.


I may post my presentation in written form at some point, but not likely this week, In any case, please pray for this parish, the parents who are teaching, the children who will be receiving the sacraments, and for hearts to be open to the Holy Spirit and converted.

All I am is a voice in the wilderness, speaking from a wilderness of my own. I can boast of nothing but my weakness, and of nothing other than Jesus Christ. He is the words on my lips, the song in my heart, and the fire in my soul.

And even in my weakness, He has called me to speak for him...and I am humbled. The hostility of a few just makes me love him more.

Please pray for this class from tonight, and for the class on Thursday evening, and please pray for me. I can't do this without a lot of divine assistance.

Novena Prayers to our Mother of Perpetual Help

For many, the novena begins tomorrow. However, in the Redemptorist tradition, it begins today. These are three traditional novena prayers to Our Lady of Perpetual Help, found at Vultus Christi. I don't know if the Litany is part of the Novena itself, but I recommend it just the same!



Novena Prayers to Our Mother of Perpetual Help

First Prayer

Behold at thy feet, O Mother of Perpetual Help, a wretched sinner who has recourse to thee and confides in thee. O Mother of mercy, have pity on me. I hear thee called by all the refuge and the hope of sinners: be then, my refuge and my hope. Assist me, for the love of Jesus Christ; stretch forth thy hand to a miserable fallen creature who recommends himself to thee, and who devotes himself to thy service for ever. I bless and thank Almighty God, who in His mercy has given me this confidence in thee, which I hold to be a pledge of my eternal salvation. It is true that in the past I have miserably fallen into sin, because I had not recourse to thee. I know that, with thy help, I shall conquer. I know too, that thou wilt assist me, if I recommend myself to thee; but I fear that, in time of danger, I may neglect to call on thee, and thus lose my soul. This grace, then, I ask of thee, and this I beg, with all the fervor of my soul, that in all the attacks of hell I may ever have recourse to thee. O Mary, help me. O Mother of Perpetual Help, never suffer me to lose my God.

Three Hail Marys.

Second Prayer

O Mother of Perpetual Help, grant that I may ever invoke thy most powerful name, which is the safeguard of the living and the salvation of the dying. O purest Mary, O sweetest Mary, let thy name henceforth be ever on my lips. Delay not, O Blessed Lady, to help me, whenever I call on thee; for, in all my temptations, in all my needs, I shall never cease to call on thee, ever repeating thy sacred name, Mary, Mary. O what consolation, what sweetness, what confidence, what emotion, fill my soul when I utter thy sacred name, or even only think of thee. I thank the Lord for having given thee, for my good so sweet, so powerful, so lovely a name. But I will not be content with merely uttering thy name. Let my love for thee prompt me ever to hail thee, Mother of Perpetual Help.

Three Hail Marys.

Third Prayer

O Mother of Perpetual Help, thou art the dispenser of all the gifts which God grants to us miserable sinners; and for this end He has made thee so powerful, so rich, and so bountiful, in order that thou mayest help us in our misery. Thou art the advocate of the most wretched and abandoned sinners who have recourse to thee: come to my aid, for I recommend myself to thee. In thy hands I place my eternal salvation, and to thee I entrust my soul. Count me among thy most devoted servants; take me under thy protection, and it is enough for me. For, if thou protect me, I fear nothing; not from my sins, because thou wilt obtain for me the pardon of them; nor from the devils, because thou art more powerful than all hell together; nor even from Jesus, my judge, because by one prayer from thee He will be appeased. But one thing I fear: that in the hour of temptation I may through negligence fail to have recourse to thee and thus perish miserably. Obtain for me, therefore, the pardon of my sins, love for Jesus, final perseverance, and the grace ever to have recourse to thee, O Mother of Perpetual Help.

Three Hail Marys.


Invocations to Our Lady

O Mother of Perpetual Help, thou whose very name inspires confidence.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may be victorious in the trying time of temptation.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may quickly rise again should I have the misfortune to fall into sin.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may break asunder any bonds of Satan in which I may have become entangled.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
Against the seductions of the world, the flesh, and the devil.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may return to my former fervour should I ever become lukewarm.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may approach the Sacrament of Penance with a heart pierced by sorrow for my sins.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may receive and adore the Most Holy Eucharist with love, thanksgiving, and awe.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
[Priests: That I may live my holy priesthood in intimate union with thy Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ, Victim and Priest.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.]
Against my own inconstancy.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
Against my own infidelity.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
In the spiritual battle against my vices and sins.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
When the powers of darkness threaten me.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may persevere to the end in faith, hope and charity.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may never despair of the Mercy of God.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may ever love thee and serve thee and invoke thine assistance.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may make thy Perpetual Help known to others.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
That I may invite others to pray to thee and to venerate thy sacred image.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.
At the hour of my death.
R. Help me, O loving Mother.