Getting to the Point: prayer

Showing posts with label prayer. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Say! I'm Adventure Bound!

It was 25 years ago today that I stood up in the St. Mary’s chapel and, along with my seven classmates, promised to live in ‘poverty, chastity, and obedience, according to the Madonna House spirit and mandate.’

While the MH community will celebrate our jubilee later in the summer (today’s focus being those making their promises now), this is the actual anniversary of my commitment to this community and spirit.

And it was nearly five years ago that I began this blog, first as a vehicle to bring the writings of Pope Benedict to a larger audience, later taking other forms.

Today’s blog post is my final one, due in an indirect way to the promise of obedience that I made 25 years ago. I have not been put under obedience to stop blogging, but I have been given a new assignment in MH that will require me to stop this particular apostolate for the sake of what I am being asked to do now.

The day after tomorrow, I will be moving from the priest staff house where I have lived off and on for the past 15 years, into the poustinia of Our Lady of Combermere on Carmel Hill. (For those reading this who know MH well, this is the poustinia built for and occupied for many years by Fr. Patrick McNulty.) I am going to be a poustinik, and this, simply, changes everything.

What is a poustinik, some may ask? The Russian word ‘poustinia’ literally means ‘desert’; a poustinik is a ‘desert-dweller’. A Russian style poustinia is a simple one-room house, sparsely furnished and minimally adorned, where one goes to pray and be fast and be silent before the Lord.

Many MH members make a weekly poustinia; some are called to live in poustinia and dedicate themselves to this way of prayer and silence more completely.

Practically, this means I will be completely in prayer and solitude three days each week. The remaining four days of the week will begin and end in poustinia (I will be living there full-time, in other words) but be otherwise spent out in the community doing my usual priestly ministry—spiritual direction, celebrating Mass, preparing talks, and the like.

When I was given this new assignment, which factually is an entirely new way of life for me, it was immediately clear that I could not enter into the kind of silence and prayer I am being asked to do and still be writing and interacting in the public sphere of social media as I have been. So in addition to my blog ending, I will also shortly be deactivating Facebook and Twitter and essentially leaving all of that behind.

As someone pointed out to me, the author of the book I-Choice on the perils and challenges of technology is now, well, choosing! I have come to believe for some time that the real and necessary work of our times with all their challenges and anguish is to be fundamentally spent on our knees before the Lord, and not before a computer monitor. Now I am being asked to act on that conviction.

I realize that there are many who will miss this blog sorely—I have been told as much by the few people I have mentioned all of this to. Well, I am sorry about that, and I am very grateful that my writings have been of some help to some people. But, ya gotta go where the Lord sends ya, and do whatever He tells ya, right? And I have absolutely no doubt that this is God’s will for me right now.

I am very happy and excited about this move into poustinia—it has been my heart’s desire for some years, but in all honesty I did not expect it to happen for many years yet to come. When my director general told me that this was his assignment for me, it came as an absolute shock… and a great joy.

What is on my deepest heart about all of this can be best expressed in verses from the mystical poetry of St. John of the Cross that I have always cherished, that probably, when I first read them many years ago, planted the seeds of this new life in my heart. I do not claim the lofty heights of these lines for myself—I am no John of the Cross. I am a lot closer to being a mistake than a mystic!

Nor do these lines entirely apply to me—I will still have flocks and work, for example, still have priestly ministry and directees and such. But these verses are nonetheless the deepest aspiration of my heart. They capture for me the scope, the ambit, the goal of what I am being called to in becoming a poustinik priest in Madonna House. Here they are:

Forever at his door

I gave my heart and soul. My fortune too.

I've no flock any more,

No other work in view.

My occupation: love. It's all I do.

If I'm not seen again

In the old places, on the village ground,

Say of me: lost to men.

Say I'm adventure-bound

For love's sake, on purpose, to be found.

And so, as I am (please God) found at last by Love in the silence of God in the poustinia, I pray that I will find all of you there, too, in the mysterious communion of the Mystical Body of Christ. Please know that I will be praying for all of you, and for the whole world, and offering my life daily there for that intention.

Goodbye!

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Works of Mercy: Praying For The Living and The Dead

And so we come to the end of this series on the corporal and spiritual works of mercy. I have been trying in this series to put our focus, truly, on what the Year of Mercy is all about—it is not about all the pastoral questions that have dominated Catholic social media this week around marriage and divorce and who can or cannot receive communion.

It is not that this is unimportant stuff—of course it is. And I fully intend to weigh in with my own thoughts on the matter… assuming I ever get around to reading the exhortation. I have simply been too busy this week to be able to get to it.

But as interesting and important as all this stuff is… it is not the focus of this Year. Shouldn’t be, anyhow. The focus of the Year of Mercy is meant to be how you and I can make God’s mercy more visible, more tangible, more known in the world. And that is done, not by endlessly chewing over controversies that may or may not have too much to do with us directly in the final analysis, but by being merciful ourselves to everyone.

And so we come to the last spiritual work of mercy, to pray for the living and the dead. This is without question the most mysterious of all the works. To put a bowl of stew in front of a hungry man is obvious. To offer consolation to a suffering soul is not easy, but also not too mysterious. And so it is with all the other works of mercy—they may be difficult or easy, according to our natural gifts and talents and supernatural charisms. But they are not terribly mysterious, really. Teach someone something. Visit someone sick. Help someone out one way or another.

And… say a prayer for them while you’re at it. And here we pass into the realm of mystery. Because of course prayer is simply lifting them up into the care of God and His Mercy. Prayer is asking God to show mercy to His people, and leaving them at the feet of Christ.

It is a profound mystery of faith, intercessory prayer. If there is any action we perform that is more a blind act of faith, I don’t know what it is. God is hidden from us—we do not see Him, hear Him. Not normally, not in the ordinary course of events. And our prayers fly from our lips and our hearts… into this hidden mystery. Into the abyss that is the human ‘experience’ of God in this life.

There is nothing else we do that is more strictly a matter of faith. We do not see our prayers reach the throne of God. We do not see God bend His ear to our prayers. We certainly do not see Him answering our prayers, not in any way that would satisfy any normal demand of evidence. It is all a black, dark mystery locked in the mystery of God’s hidden ways with us.

And yet… we pray. Well, we should pray, anyhow. Prayer, besides being an act of faith, is also an act of humility. It is acknowledging that I really cannot help anyone in the final analysis. Not really, not as they need to be helped. I can do this and that, be it cook them a meal or teach them a course, listen to them and (I hope!) give good counsel.

But that is not what people need. Not really, not entirely. What we need is… well, what do you think? Personally, I don’t really know. But He does. So at the end of the day (and hopefully the beginning and the middle of it, too) we lift them up to God. Lord have mercy. God bless him, God help her. Your will be done in their lives. Your love be triumphant in that one, in this one. Have mercy, Lord, have mercy.

This is the work of mercy, both mysterious beyond the others, but also I believe effective and powerful beyond the others as well. In the end, it is God’s mercy we all need, not my mercy or yours. His mercy (we, well, pray) flows through mine and yours, but it is His that ultimately is the healing of humanity.

So… as we pass through the rest of the days and weeks of this Year of Mercy, let us strive to refer everything finally to the mercy of God, and above all let us pray for one another, for all suffering people, for our enemies should we happen to have any, and for all men and women, living and dead. May God’s mercy win the victory in every human life and bring us all to the eternal feast of mercy awaiting us on the other side of the veil.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

The Prayer of Jesus

Well, I can’t write my usual Sunday wrap-up of ‘This Week in Madonna House’, for the simple reason that I was not around MH this week much at all. Canon law prescribes that Catholic priests make a five-day retreat once a year, so this week was my chance to do that—I stayed on MH property, in one of the small houses we have set aside for such purposes, and pretty much strove for a week of silence and prayer.

In lieu of being able to tell you all the exciting things that went on in MH (of which I am wholly ignorant), I thought I would share from one of the books I brought with me, this fine study of the Jesus Prayer (the repetitive rhythmic praying of the name of Jesus, usually in the form of ‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner’). It certainly spoke to me very deeply of what I at least am trying to do in my own prayer life, poor as my execution may be on any given day. So here is a little meditation on the power of the name of Jesus, for your Lenten edification:

There are many levels to the ‘prayer of Jesus’. It grows deeper and expands as we discover in the name each new level. It must begin as adoration and a sense of presence.

Then this presence is tested as that of a Savior (for such is the meaning of the name ‘Jesus’). The invocation of the name is a mystery of salvation insofar as it brings with it a deliverance. In uttering the name, we already receive what we need. We receive it henceforth in Jesus who is not only the giver but the gift; not only the purifier, but all purity; not only does he feed the hungry and give drink to the thirsty, but he himself is food and drink.

He is the substance of all good things (if we do not use this term in a strictly metaphysical sense). His name gives peace to those who are tempted: instead of arguing about temptation, instead of considering the raging storm (that was Peter’s mistake on the lake after his good beginning), why not look at Jesus alone and go to him walking on the waves, taking refuge in his name?

Let the tempted man meditate quietly and pronounce the name without anxiety or feverishness, and may his heart be filled up by this name and serve as a barrier against strong winds. If a sin has been committed, let the name serve as a means towards immediate reconciliation. Without hesitation or delay, let is be pronounced with repentance and perfect charity and it will become at once a sign of pardon.

Jesus will take his place again in the life of the sinner, just as, after his Resurrection, he came back to take his place so simply at the table where the disciples who had deserted him offered him fish and honey.

It is obviously not a question of rejecting or of underestimating the objective means of penance and absolution which the Church offers to the sinner; we are speaking here only of what takes place in the secret reaches of the soul.

The Prayer of Jesus, by a monk of the Eastern Church, pp. 102-103

At any rate, this is a truly great book, and there is lots more where that came from. And know that I was praying for all of you this week, and continue to do so in this season of mercy and penitence.

Friday, January 15, 2016

Do You Have A Personal Relationship With Jesus Christ? Well, DO YOU, HUH, HUH???

O God, you are my God, I seek you,

my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you,

as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.

So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,

beholding your power and glory.

Because your steadfast love is better than life,

my lips will praise you.

So I will bless you as long as I live;

I will lift up my hands and call on your name.

My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast,

and my mouth praises you with joyful lips,

when I think of you on my bed,

and meditate on you in the watches of the night.

For you have been my help,

and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.

My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.

But those who seek to destroy my life

shall go down into the depths of the earth;

they shall be given over to the power of the sword,

they shall be prey for jackals.

But the king shall rejoice in God; all who swear by him shall exult,

for the mouths of liars will be stopped.

Psalm 63

Reflection – And so we come to one of the pivotal psalms of the whole psalter. This psalm has such a central place in Christian worship that its importance can hardly be overstated. It is the first psalm at Lauds for Sunday Week One of the psalter, but this means that it is prayed on virtually every major feast day of the Church year, and for each day of the Octaves of Easter and Christmas.

It is chock full with imagery that for a Christian are sacramental, Christological, and pneumatological (uhh, that’s a big word for ‘referring to the Holy Spirit'). There is water and thirst, so baptism. There is hunger and feasting, so Eucharist. There is the shadow of God’s wings, so the Spirit, the Crimson Dove. There is the King, so Christ.

But all of this is in the context of a great personal love and delight of the believer in God. If you want a Scripture that is all about having a ‘personal relationship with Jesus Christ’, to use the modern parlance, this is the one for you. Pray this psalm out loud, mean it, take it to heart, really meditate on its verses and its imagery, and you will begin to awaken a personal love for God and for Jesus Christ in yourself. His Word can do that for you, and this Word in particular can do that for you.

What does it mean, anyhow, to have a ‘personal relationship’ with God? I have to be honest and admit that I don’t really like that phrase, for reasons that I’ve never been able to fully articulate. There’s something about it, and especially about the fact that it is often presented as being the most important thing possible, the very question on which hinges our whole faith life, that makes me uneasy.

I think it is because in our culture of sentimentality and feelings first, it translates to having all sorts of appropriate emotions about Jesus Christ on any given day. Myself, I have never been able to summon up appropriate emotions about any subject on any day (I seem to be wired a bit differently from most people that way), and even if I could, I simply refuse to believe that the health of our spiritual life is contingent on having the right emotional response to God. It just makes no sense to me.

But a personal relationship with God seems to me, in its better meaning, to mean precisely what this psalm says: knowing our poverty, knowing that we are dry and weary land indeed, that we hunger and thirst and need… and that there is One and One Alone who can meet that need, who can make our life fruitful, who can fill us. And from that knowledge of our poverty and knowledge of His fullness, our hearts and minds turn to Him, simply, continually, naturally.

We gaze upon Him in the sanctuary (great psalm to pray at Adoration!), His praise is on our lips (Praise the Lord! Hallelujah!), we think of Him in the night (pray the name of Jesus on those nights when sleep eludes you), and sing of Him (whether you can carry a tune or not).

Not because we are all emotional and wrought up about God, but because, well… because we believe this stuff is true. Like… really, really true. Not some nice idea or the power of positive thinking or foolishness like that. Truth. Him. Real. God. That kind of thing. And this psalm is one of the great masterpieces of inspired Scripture, one of the great ways to express and foster that faith in ourselves, and that is why the Church has made it such a prominent part of its common prayer, and why we should make it part of our personal prayer lives, too.