As we worship, so we believe and so we live

As I am trying to help my parish prepare for the upcoming change to the Roman Missal I ran across this time-tested phrase, “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi”, which is Latin for ‘the law of prayer’ or ‘the way we worship’ is the ‘law of belief’ ‘what we believe’. It is sometimes expanded to as, “lex orandi, lex credendi, lex vivendi”, further deepening the implications of this truth - how we worship reflects what we believe and determines how we will live. I have seen this so much in my own life. When I trust in Him, I am able to give love to others. When I give way to my fears and doubts—thinking God can’t do what He promises—then I’m no good to Him or anyone else in my life.

Two days ago, on Thursday the 28th of July I made my annual pilgrimage to Okarche Oklahoma, an hour drive from my home across the white hot mostly flat plains, to pay respect to the final burial place of Father Stanley Rother who may well become our state's first Catholic martyr and saint. Thirty years ago he was shot down by unknown men who broke into his rectory in Guatemala. Fr. Rother’s ‘cause’ for canonization was submitted to Rome last year. I attended the Mass. It was the first time I had ever witnessed such an event and it moved me greatly. I’ve met his younger brother on several occasions and I met his sister then. They are a lovely family. But I digress.

When I drove to Holy Trinity Church this past week, I thought I was going for several hours of quiet reflection and prayer—as had been the case in the past. However the new parish priest had instituted more active “Holy Hours” with vocal rosaries, Benediction, praying of the prayer for Father Rother and music. Different groups had volunteered to lead each prayer hour.

I won’t say I wasn’t disappointed in one sense. I was desperately longing for the quiet. In my job, I deal with people all day every day. Then I come home to my family, who I love very much and need to talk to also. So there is more talk, and radios, television going and then my daughter’s friends come over. Often there are friends from church to visit in the hospital, funerals, required social functions, out-of-town family visiting, etc. Quiet is sometimes hard to come by. I treasure it. And yet, to be able to pray with these other people was also an opportunity.

As I entered into the prayer and calmed myself, I realized it wasn’t about how much quiet time I got that afternoon, but that I was there praying, accepting things as they were. So often I know I’m ruining whatever occasion because I’m trying to “fix it”. I have spent entire events thinking, “If only they had done this or that, then it would have been perfect!” Or other times I’ll spoil things by chastising myself for my own mistakes. I would call them opportunities lost, were they not lessons learned.

Thursday, I let the prayer sweep over me and into me. I was grateful for our Catholic “Law of Prayer” which has order and form. I felt the strength coming from the discipline of repetition. Just like with exercising one’s body, you have to exercise your spirit, except we ‘exercise’ the spirit with regular prayer. It isn’t God who needs our prayers; it is us poor sinners who need to pray. As I said my fourth rosary for the day, I knew that God hadn’t given me what I wanted, but what I needed—as usual.

Thanks be to Him!

For a much better explanation on this subject, read, Is Ritual Prayer “Vain Repetition”.

The Glory of God's Mystery

“You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.” ~C. S. Lewis

The mystery of God’s Glory is the mystery of existence itself. After seven weeks of praying the Glorious Mysteries, I’m no closer to ‘solving’ the mystery than I was when I started—nor did I expect to be. “Si comprehendis, non est Deus”—”if you understand him, he is not God.” As Pope Benedict XVI quotes St. Augustine in the Encyclical Deus caritas est.

So as far as understanding goes, well, I ... went back to my original post. What did I ask? “How do we as poor weak humans share in His Glory?”

I also wrote that, “I want to believe in the Glory and the Power.”

However, that is not to say I haven't learned anything from my prayer. This is what each mystery in the Glorious Mysteries taught me:

• The Resurrection: ‘Then the angel said to the women in reply, “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified.”’ ~Matthew 28:5 Yes! I am seeking Him. That was the whole point of the post. That was why I wrote it, why I want to understand in the first place. And that is a good thing. But truly, isn’t that really Our Lord seeking me out? Don’t all our good urges and actions really originate from the Source of All Good? Those words are for me, for you, for all of us. The angel is telling us not to be afraid; we are looking for Him, who is looking for us. All is well.

• The Ascension: ‘Two men dressed in white garments stood beside them. They said, “Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky? This Jesus who has been taken up from you into heaven will return in the same way as you have seen him going into heaven.”’ ~Acts 1:10-11 This time it’s two angels—even though they are called ‘men in white garments, we know they are angels—and they are speaking to the Apostles. But again we are reassured through a message delivered almost two thousand years ago. He will return. He IS coming back. For all believing and practicing Christians this is very Good News. I can be very, very happy. Everything He said is true. I must not despair. It is up to me to keep believing, praying and following the messages He gave. Nothing I do for Him is in vain. Although I may not understand why the long delay, I can trust Him to return.

• The Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost: ‘Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice, and proclaimed to them, “ . . . God raised this Jesus; of this we are all witnesses. Exalted at the right hand of God, he received the promise of the Holy Spirit from the Father and poured it forth, as you (both) see and hear.”’ Acts 2:14, 33-34 God’s Holy Spirit is alive everywhere in His Creation, especially in those made in His Image and likeness. It is poured into souls washed clean by the waters of Baptism and sealed in the Sacrament of Confirmation. But it is up to me—to us—to bring forth the Spirit.

• The Assumption: ‘And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart … He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart.’ ~Luke 2:19, 51 Luke makes a point to mention not once but twice in his Gospel about Mary keeping, holding and reflecting – in her heart – things which happened with and to the young Jesus. This more than anything else convinces me that he must have talked to Mary herself at some time. It is something a mother would say. It also sounds like an older woman at the end of a long life, who has had many years to meditate and pray on Her Son’s life. Mary, I can learn much from your quiet example. I, too, can study His Life, keeping, holding and reflecting on it in my heart. You lived the poorest, humblest and simplest of lives and left this earth without a trace Mary. No one has ever claimed to have found a single relic belonging to you. But you have left the richest legacy of holy wisdom in your few words in Scripture: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.” “My Soul doth Magnify the Lord; My Spirit Rejoices in God My Savior!” and “Do Whatever He tells you!” If only I can remember to speak as sweetly! Help me dear Mother!

• The Crowning of Mary: ‘A great sign appeared in the sky, a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars.’ ~Revelation 12:1

Finally, at the end of my search, I am back at the beginning, to keep on searching after Him, who I love with my whole heart—but don’t begin to understand. So I sing:

“Give thanks to the LORD, invoke his name;
make known among the peoples his deeds!
Sing praise, play music; proclaim all his wondrous deeds!
Glory in his holy name; rejoice, O hearts that seek the LORD!
Rely on the mighty LORD; constantly seek his face.” ~Psalm 105:1-4

Constantly seek His Face!

Visitors to the Vineyard

‘Jesus began to speak to the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a hedge around it, dug a wine press, and built a tower. Then he leased it to tenant farmers and left on a journey. At the proper time he sent a servant to the tenants to obtain from them some of the produce of the vineyard....’ Mark 12:1-2

On March 7th of this year—two days before Lent started—I had this familiar parable ‘opened up’ for me. Although these are not the words of the sweet little monk who gave the extemporaneous homily on this Gospel, here is my poor rendering of his beautiful revelation:

We usually think of this story of Jesus’ as addressed to the Jewish people of Biblical times. They are the bad tenants who mismanage God’s vineyard, who beat, ‘treat shamefully’ and kill all the prophets sent to them over the centuries, until finally He, the Son is sent. Jesus is foretelling His own brutal death at the hands of those among the people who were jealous and afraid of Him. And certainly St. Mark confirms Jesus’ story has struck a nerve with the audience, for further on in the same narrative, the evangelist writes: ‘They were seeking to arrest him, but they feared the crowd, for they realized that he had addressed the parable to them.’ Mark 12:12

This can leave those of us who have come after with the comfortable feeling that in this parable at least we are the ‘good guys’. As Christians, Jesus isn’t talking to or about us.

But there’s another way of looking at this parable.

Suppose instead the vineyard is an analogy for each one of us. What if we are the vineyard? God has ‘planted us’ and leased us to ourselves—we remain His; we certainly do not belong to ourselves.

When the time comes, He will send His servants to us. They will come in many shapes and sizes. We will probably not recognize them anymore than the Jewish people recognized God’s messengers of old.

They will come to us as they did to the Israelites, as natural disasters (plagues), as war/acts of terrorism (foreign invaders), as the inarticulate (Moses), military leaders (Joshua), crazy men (Saul), boy upstarts (David), quarreling couples (Samson and Delilah), adulterous politicians (also David), beauty queens (Ester), weepy youths (Jeremiah), grumpy runaways (Jonah), loudmouth ascetics (John the Baptist), dreamers (both Josephs) and unwed mothers (Mary). If you take away their Scriptural significance, can you imagine a motlier group?

They are us.

They are also visitors to our vineyards.

How many have we ignored? Beaten? Verbally, if not physically? Killed? Either emotionally, spiritually or mentally?

God will keep sending them to us, to His vineyard. He did the planting. He is coming to collect His produce. Eventually the visitors will be replaced with the Visitor, Jesus.

Oh Lord, I thank You for that wonderful priest, Your son and the amazing insight You shared with him. I have had many visitors to my vineyard since that day: rude drivers and good friends; the disgruntled and self-satisfied; family and strangers. There have been many messages from You I welcomed, some I learned from, a few I still don’t understand and others causing me horror and great pain.

Whatever my feelings or thoughts, I thank You for helping me see that they all come from You. Please help me continue to accept each and every visitor You send, as someone sent by You to help prepare me for Jesus’ Second Coming.

Worth Doing

“If a thing's worth doing it's worth doing badly.” ~~G.K. Chesterton

Today they buried my friends, Rose and Dave. In spite of how violently they died, how much publicity the crime has received, and how packed the church was, it was a solemn, beautiful Mass of Christian burial followed by full military honors for Dave who retired from the Air Force after 24 years. The Freedom Riders turned out in large numbers to line the street with flags and stand at attention for the salute and playing of Taps.

The weather also cooperated. It’s a perfect spring day here in Oklahoma—the sun’s shining, there’s a crisp breeze and yet it’s still not too hot.

So why the quote?

The funeral was lovely, a fitting tribute to my unforgettable friend, Rose and her devoted husband—all anyone could have asked for and more.

This morning as I was getting ready to go, I felt so strangely at peace, more so than I’ve been since I first heard the awful news. I knew without a doubt I was supposed to be a Communion minister today. I’ve never been a Communion minister at a funeral before; very often they don’t need extraordinary ministers, especially not when you have two priests and a deacon presiding as was the case today. When one is required, usually it’s the Mass Coordinator. But somehow, it just seemed right. Rose was the one who told me I could bring Holy Communion to the homebound years ago when I couldn’t fathom such an honor.

“But what if I mess it up?” I think I probably asked her back then.

“How will they know?!” She probably answered. I can just imagine her thinking, “Silly rabbit! Stop worrying and just bring them Communion! These sick people need your help. Perfectionists! Yeesh!”

She gave me a pyx, a book of prayers, a bunch of holy cards and sent me on my way. I was hung up on doing things “right”. Rose didn’t worry about that so much. Oh sure she tried to follow the big rules so far as they went. But she was more about visiting the person, seeing that each sick friend—and anyone in a hospital bed was her friend, whether she knew them or not—had Communion if they were Catholic, and magazines, candy, fast food or whatever else she could smuggle into the hospital, if they weren't.

Today I was the only lay extraordinary minister at my friend’s funeral. This morning, I told her that if it was God's Will, I'd really like to do it. I guess it was. Anyway, like so many other things I know I’ve done, it was worth doing—however I did it—because it wasn’t about me. None of it is about us, which is why it doesn’t matter so much how well we do it, but the love we put into it. Rose—and God—know how much her gifts meant to me over the years. Oh sweet Lord, let me be a ‘Rose’ for others.

And now she gave me another gift by helping me discover the courage to do something else I’ve never done. Thank you dear friend. One of the most beautiful things about getting older and losing dear ones is that it makes your own death less scary. Each time I can count one more soul ‘over there’ to welcome me when it’s my turn. Not such a bad thing when you think about it.

Thank you God for letting me be Catholic. Help me keep on ‘doing it’...however badly.

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God

Recently I listened to Jonathan Edward’s famous sermon, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. I had heard of it yet never read it. My initial reaction was surprise. This was the sermon which provoked the 'Great Awakening'? I had to walk away and find something else to do. I prayed a lot the next day and fortunately it was my day off so I had the time to do it.

Also fortunately, the readings yesterday at Mass were about an incident where Jesus becomes angry. Perfect. This allowed me to prayerfully write this book review for goodreads:

'Reflecting on Edward’s sermon, there’s nothing technically wrong with it and yet still it doesn’t ring true. It doesn’t sound like the same God I have come to know through the Jesus I’ve met in the Gospels. Where is the Abba, Father we are supposed to address our prayers to?

Yes, Jesus does become angry in the Gospels. In the Gospel of Mark in particular, Jesus is portrayed as rather impatient, brusque even. He curses the fig tree—symbolic of barren Israel and a parable on the fate of Jerusalem—and it withers. He trashes the moneychangers in the Temple and then he teaches. He teaches. Like all good parents, he gets his children’s attention with a little anger and then proceeds to explain its meaning, why he lost his temper.

And why did he become angry? What are the wayward children doing which has led to this? What does Jesus tell them? That God delights in holding his children in Divine suspension until it is His pleasure to send them to the fiery abyss? No. ‘That the reason why they are not fallen already and do not fall now is only that God's appointed time is not come?’ No. Hear what happens in the Gospel immediately after the incident at the Temple with the moneychangers:

‘Peter remembered and said to him, "Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered." Jesus said to them in reply, "Have faith in God. Amen, I say to you, whoever says to this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen; it shall be done for him. Therefore I tell you, all that you ask for in prayer, believe that you will receive it and it shall be yours. When you stand to pray, forgive anyone against whom you have a grievance, so that your heavenly Father may in turn forgive you your transgressions." (Mark 11:24-26)

Peter sounds like a little boy excitedly reporting news to his favorite teacher, which in fact was exactly what was happening. Jesus told them to believe in God, to pray and to forgive each other so that God would be able to forgive them in kind. Does this sound like an angry God? Not to me. And if you go back and read that whole chapter slowly and in context, I promise a fuller picture emerges—as always happens when you sit down with the Jesus of the Gospels. He is desperate to talk to us. Angry? No. Passionate? Yes! There is love and deep compassion in his every word.

Yes, there will be justice along with mercy; that is in fact true mercy. Those who deliberately, with full knowledge, choose to turn their backs on God will get their heart’s desire.

I wanted to be moved by this famous sermon. Well, I suppose I was, just not in the way I’d hoped. God is a God of Love and Love is the most powerful force in the universe, more powerful than anger by far. Perhaps where Love is weak, we humans build up other things to fill the gap. I don’t know.

The thing I am most sad about, however, is that Edwards didn’t persuade me. We have no shortage of sin and I know it must cause Our Lord a great deal of anguish because he loves us all so very much. Sadly, Edwards is 100% right about the eternal suffering of those who are bent on refusing and denying God. They will surely get what they have asked for.

An excellent rendering of this classic sermon may be heard on Sermon Audio. However, I suspect the reader, David Bruce Sonner, presents a much more matter-of-fact version of this hellfire and brimstone text than that which was first given by Edwards on that July day in 1741.'

Simply Pray ...

...and pray simply.

My friend called last Friday night to remind me about the Oklahoma Catholic Women’s Conference the next day. With snow storms, no work or school and numerous other cancellations all week, I’d completely forgotten I even had any other scheduled activities except for Religious Education classes on Sunday—which I was still anxiously watching the weather and trying to decide on ... ‘yeah’ or ‘nay’.

“So?” she asked, “Are we getting up and going to 8 a.m. Mass? Or are we going to wait and go in when the first scheduled speaker begins at 10?”

We went to Mass because of course we knew we’d be much happier with ourselves and we were. Time was when I would have slept in, spent more money and left early. But Mass was worth getting up for, in spite of cleaning the snow and ice off my husband’s car and that cup of coffee afterwards was all the better for having waited for it.

I visited all the vendors but I have enough books at home. I just finished My Life with the Saints and The Secret of the Rosary (for the second or third time). I’m finishing Messenger and planning to read A Travel Guide to Heaven. I don’t need any books. What I was looking for was special little things which might inspire or encourage or help those I love. So many people I know are bearing crosses of one sort or another. Then I ran across this box of cards of “The Golden Hail Mary”. Each card reads as follows:

A Golden Hail Mary

One Fervent “Hail Mary,”
With love and thought said,
Is better than volumes of
Prayers poorly read.

If time and one’s duties
Prevent a long prayer,
Just say one “Hail Mary”
From the heart and with care.

The greatest of blessings
From Mary it brings;
Like flowers and birds
And the waters of springs.

We never will know
Till before Mary’s throne,
How that daily “Hail Mary”
Brought us to her home.

That’s what I bought. That’s what I’ve been saying ever since. It’s such a simple prayer. And yet as I learned when I read St. Louis De Montfort’s classic, The Secret of the Rosary, the Angel

‘Gabriel's greeting to Our Lady is one of the most beautiful hymns which we can possibly sing to the glory of the Most High. “I will sing a new song to you.” This new hymn which David foretold was to be sung at the coming of the Messiah is none other than the Angelic Salutation. There is an old hymn and a new hymn: the first is that which the Jews sang out of gratitude to God for creating them and maintaining them in existence -- for delivering them from captivity and leading them safely through the Red Sea -- for giving them manna to eat and for all His other blessings.

The new hymn is that which Christians sing in thanksgiving for the graces of the Incarnation and the Redemption. As these marvels were brought about by the Angelic Salutation, so do we repeat the same salutation to thank the Most Blessed Trinity for His immeasurable goodness to us.

We praise God the Father because He so loved the world that He gave us His only Son as our Savior. We bless the Son because He deigned to leave heaven and come down upon earth -- because HE WAS MADE Man and redeemed us. We glorify the Holy Spirit because he formed Our Lord's pure Body in Our Lady's Womb -- this Body which was the Victim of our sins. In this spirit of deep thankfulness should we, then, always say the Hail Mary, making acts of faith, hope, love, and thanksgiving for the priceless gift of salvation.

Although this new hymn is in praise of the Mother of God and is sung directly to her, nevertheless it greatly glorifies the Most Blessed Trinity because any homage that we pay Our Lady returns inevitably to God Who is the cause of all her virtues and perfections. When we honor Our Lady: God the Father is glorified because we are honoring the most perfect of His Creatures; God the Son is glorified because we are praising His most pure Mother, and God the Holy Spirit is glorified because we are lost in admiration at the graces with which He has filled His Spouse.’

There is much more, but that is enough for now.

The important thing is simply to pray. Don’t have time for an entire Rosary? Say one Hail Mary—one GOLDEN Hail Mary—with all that is in your heart. Don’t have your Bible? Say one Our Father, the prayer taught us by Our Lord Himself, the perfect prayer, the prayer which says it all. Too stressed to think? Say the Jesus Prayer. “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God have Mercy on me a sinner.” Afraid? Say the Apostle’s Creed. There is power in affirming one’s belief in God. Too sick to pray? Call on the Holy Name of Jesus, the Name which is a prayer itself. Jesus! Jesus!

And I offer One Golden Hail Mary for all of you today!

Persistence + Patience = Progress

I did not want to get out of bed this morning. I was tired from yesterday’s exertions and it was warm under the covers. But I had an appointment to go meet with my trainer at the gym. Ugh! That was the very last thing I wanted to do. My days off from work were making me even lazier than normal.

If there had been a max on the snooze button, I would have reached it. Finally I got up. Was it Grace or my Guardian Angel? I know I don’t deserve the credit.

The snow was coming down in small flakes when I arrived at the nearly deserted gym. I admitted my lack of ambition to my trainer. “Good for you for coming anyway!” she cheered me on. While I appreciated her encouragement, I little thought I deserved it.

Surprisingly even though I had been mostly sedentary during the week, I had a good, if moderate, work out. No gold medals here unless they give them for showing up and hanging in there...

Later back at home, it was almost the same struggle to make myself pray.

I don’t feel like praying God. What is “praying” anyway? I’m just saying words... I guess this is what they mean when they talk about dryness... My prayers are like sawdust... Do they mean anything? Where is the inspiration? What is the point? Hello?! Are You even listening God?

You know some days God, I get a little irritated with You. You could make this a little easier, couldn’t You? I mean after all I am trying to do this right. Why don’t you at least tell me like my fitness trainer does, “Good for you for showing up and praying anyway!”

It would be nice to get some feedback. (sigh) Do you hear me God? I keep showing up and saying these prayers. Sometimes it feels like I’m just opening my warm house and letting all the heat out—to be swallowed up in the immense winter freeze outdoors. The ‘heat’ of my prayers seems to dissipate as fast as I generate them. What’s the point? Is there any?

My prayers are finished.

I pick up my phone and read a text from someone I spent a deal of time trying to help yesterday. I prayed for her, listened to her, talked to her, listened and prayed and prayed some more. Today she writes that what was troubling her yesterday is much better. She’s even laughing about what was causing so much pain.

As I read her words I realize I just got my prayer answer and my “atta girl”. They didn’t come the way I expected.

You never answer me the way I think You will God—but You always answer me. Thank You God! Forgive me for my lack of faith.

You are so faithful. I KNOW I can count on you. Why do I doubt? Have patience with me God.

Help me to keep ‘showing up’ every day, every day, and every day for my prayer time—no matter what.

In time, this patient persistence will equal progress; will result in an unswerving faithfulness that never questions You or Your purposes. I ask this in Your Son's Name.

See what the Holy Father says about Prayer.

God bless you dear readers!

Presentation to the LORD

Today is the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord or the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin, a relatively ancient celebration. In some places it’s called Candlemas Day. If I wasn’t snowbound, I like to think I’d being going to Mass to celebrate this day. As it is, I said my rosary and I’m having a quiet presentation of my own here at home with my husband and cat.
Reading up about this tradition, I learned that,

‘According to Jewish law, the firstborn male child belonged to God, and the parents had to "buy him back" on the 40th day after his birth, by offering a sacrifice of "a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons" (Luke 2:24) in the temple (thus the "presentation" of the child). On that same day, the mother would be ritually purified (thus the "purification").

Meditating on these customs of long ago, I thought about their applicability to my relationship with God today.

It’s been 40 days since Our Lord came to us on that glorious Christmas Day. We awaited Him with such joy and anticipation. Then He quietly stole into our world in the most unexpected and out-of-the-way place He could find, yet still fulfilling all that His prophets had foretold about Him. He came as a vulnerable infant, who could have been refused by His mother, denied by His foster father and slaughtered by His ruling monarch. Instead, His birth was sung by a whole Host of Heavenly Angels, witnessed by God’s chosen few and honored by a celestial event. But really that was 2000 years ago, even if we do relive the event every year when we celebrate December 25th or every time we pray the Joyful Mysteries of the Rosary.

The Mystery of Christmas is all about the celebration of His Coming into this world. But what is the Mystery of the Presentation?

Is it Mary’s purification and mine? Do I join her in praying the beautiful words from the Magnificat, “My spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior because he has regarded the humility of his handmaid.” Unlike Mary, I only pray the next words as they apply to her. And yes, dear Mother of Our Lord and mine, all generations do call you blessed because He that is mighty, has done great things to you.

Yes, that is part of the Mystery of the Presentation. But there is more. There is also Our Lord’s Presentation. There are the beautiful meetings between the Holy Family and the two people, Anna and Simeon, in the Temple, their joy in beholding Jesus and our joy that at least they understand His significance even if all the rest are ignorant.

Jesus has come to earth, a gift to us from the Father and at the Temple He is offered back to the Father in accordance with Jewish Law, in recognition of the fact that He belongs to God. So Mary and Joseph offer two simple turtledoves in payment for you dearest Jesus. I like to think that they themselves are the little turtledoves and Our Heavenly Father was very pleased with their humble offering. He knew His dearly beloved son would be safe with such parents, young as they were, for they had such pure hearts.

And me? Am I only a spectator of all this? Do the mysteries of the Rosary and Our Faith merely offer us lifeless cold images to look at and speculate about? Or do they invite us into the story as a participant in the wonder and beauty of Christ’s relationship with His Church, the Father’s bond with the Son and depth of love in the Holy Trinity?

I believe we are always invited into the mysteries in a personal way.

I have now come to the Temple as well. I come to present all I have. It isn’t much. It is only ... me. If I should be transformed into something which could fly—and Mary and Joseph are turtle doves—I think I would be a flea or a gnat. But whatever I am, here I am Lord. Please purify me, redeem me and accept this, my presentation, on Your Feast Day. Thank you Jesus for the gift of your life and the glimpse into this scene. Please allow me to go deeper into the Gospel mysteries each time I pray.

And God Created the World...

“I have a question for all of you,” said my college freshman daughter, Meg, last week-end, “Is there more good or bad in the world?”

“It doesn’t matter,” replied my husband, “It’s our job to be on the side of good.”

“We can’t tell,” was my younger daughter’s answer but she agreed with her father that it’s our mission to be working for The Good.

I was surprised. I thought the answer to Meg’s question was obvious, but their evasive non-answers gave me pause. Was I the only one who thought like that? Maybe the question went deeper than I knew. Maybe I was just naïve. “What do you say?” I asked Meg, the question’s originator.

“I believe the world is mostly good,” she said a little slowly. But she went on to add that a good friend—an evangelical Christian—believes the world is mostly bad. “She’s constantly talking about all these dark forces and evil powers.”

We discussed the various theological perspectives of different Christian denominations for some moments before Meg asked, “What do you think Mom?”

“I believe what it says in the Book of Genesis,

‘God called the dry land “the earth,” and the basin of the water he called “the sea.” God saw how good it was. Then God said, “Let the earth bring forth vegetation: every kind of plant that bears seed and every kind of fruit tree on earth that bears fruit with its seed in it.” And so it happened: the earth brought forth every kind of plant that bears seed and every kind of fruit tree on earth that bears fruit with its seed in it. God saw how good it was.’

God created this magnificent earth and saw that it was good. Ever since then, we human beings have been trying to mess up God’s work. Yet He loves all of His Creation especially us and this is still a good world—mostly in spite of us. Sometimes, when we cooperate with Him, it is a good world through us but always it is a good world because of Him.”

Since then I’ve been posing this question wherever I go, is this world good or bad? Or as my daughter phrased it, is there more good or bad in this world? I’ve been amazed at the answers I’ve received to the question, but—so far—no one has given me an answer (although several have tried!) which has convinced me God’s world is bad. I pray they never do. So... what do you think?

"AND GOD SAID...."

I said, "God, I hurt."
And God said, I know."

I said, "God, I cry a lot."
And God said, "That is why I gave you tears."

I said, "God, I am so depressed."
And God said, "That is why I gave you Sunshine."

I said, "God, life is so hard."
And God said, "That is why I gave you loved ones."

I said, "God, my loved one died."
And God said, "So did mine."

I said, "God, it is such a loss."
And God said, I saw mine nailed to a cross."

I said, "God, but your loved one lives."
And God said, "So does yours."

I said, "God, where are they now?"
And God said, "Mine is on My right and yours is in the Light."

I said, "God, it hurts."
And God said, I know."

Posted on the wall at the
Oklahoma City bombing site
by K. C. and Myke Kuzmic
Stockton, CA

Day 16 - My Ways Are Not Your Ways

‘At noon darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three o'clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which is translated, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “Look, he is calling Elijah.” One of them ran, soaked a sponge with wine, put it on a reed, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to take him down.” Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. The veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. When the centurion who stood facing him saw how he breathed his last he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!”’ Mark 15:33-39

‘“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD.’ Have you ever read these words in Isaiah 55 and thought somewhat ironically, ‘no kidding!’

I know I have. Okay, I admit it. I have a bit of a smart aleck streak which 50+ years and a wide variety of experiences haven’t quite been able to knock out of me.

God is still working on me…

But seriously, the humor of “Oh, God!” and “Bruce Almighty” aside, could you imagine watching your servant Job suffer and not lift a hand in assistance? How could God remain silent during the barbarity of so much of human history?

How could we?!

How could He have sacrificed His only Son on a cross?

Especially for the likes of us who would stand by for . . .

Legalized slavery and the transportation of people under conditions not fit for cattle?

Human torture and sacrifice?

Racial and religious genocide?

Child abuse and neglect of every sort imaginable and then some?

Endless cycles of war, oppression and poverty?

Hatred and refusal to forgive leading to more violence?

The Third Reich, Stalin, Rwanda, the murder of over a 1/3 of a generation of American unborn through abortion?

No, His ways aren’t like our ways.

Thanks be to Him!

Teach me oh Lord to follow Your Way!

Day 9 - The Long and Wending Road

‘Then he said, "A man had two sons, and the younger son said to his father, “Father, give me the share of your estate that should come to me.” So the father divided the property between them. After a few days, the younger son collected all his belongings and set off to a distant country where he squandered his inheritance on a life of dissipation.’ Luke 15:11-13

It’s been a long week. The 30 day retreat I meant to do every day has melted into the reality of the month of May with its tornadoes, end-of-school year awards ceremonies, graduations and other myriad of functions and obligations which must be met. And so it goes—the best laid plans, as the saying goes.

I have started almost a dozen posts on this Scripture story, which is a favorite. Sometimes, like Father Henri Nouwen,¹ I think I could write a book on that parable; it is so rich and meaningful.

Instead I’ll just share that our family is in the middle of its own prodigal child story. No, it isn’t one of my own children, thanks be to God. But I know the young woman's parents and they are at least as loving and well-intentioned as my husband and me, if not more so. I don’t see them as to blame for their daughter’s behavior any more than I believe we can take credit our grown children's successes. As parents, we all did the best we could. Then our children made their choices.

Recently, this daughter wrote her heartbroken mother an e-mail in response to this one:

“Dear R, I would love to hear from you, just to know if you’re all right.
Love, Mom”

R's reply:

“Hey, don't bother replying to this, but yes, my life is fabulous. It's done nothing but go uphill since I decided to ditch anybody that holds me back from getting what I want in life.

Hope you all have a great life, best of luck, etc. No hard feelings. Please feel free to forward this on to anybody I'm related to who hasn't yet got the clue that I turned in my club membership card a while back.

Tootles,
R

P.S. This was written by me, R, and not M². Just thought I'd throw that on there for all the low-expectation morons who missed the part where I stopped being 14 years old.”

This was forwarded on to us because my husband spoke up to this young couple concerning how they treated family members, thus earning himself the honor of becoming one of the ‘morons’ mentioned.

I don’t usually air family laundry. I don’t like to say anything bad about anyone. And yet, she herself suggested her e-mail be forwarded, which I read as a plea for help. I’ve changed the initials and won’t mention how we are related to this young woman. I just ask for your prayers for her parents, grandparents, siblings and for the young couple in question. Only God can change hearts and even He needs our cooperation, but I do believe in the power of prayer to work miracles.

I also believe in the story of the Prodigal Son. I should. I was something of a prodigal daughter myself once. Although I'm grateful I never wrote such a letter to my own mother, I also know I didn't grow up in this age of instant communication and, in my opinion, instant regret. Still I managed to cause her more tears, disappointment, grief and worry than she ever deserved. I traveled that long and wending road, made my way back to my parents, was forgiven and have had many happy years since, thanks be to God. By His Grace, I pray for the same reconcilation and reunion for this young relative.

Thank you for your compassionate understanding and God bless you for your generosity in joining us in prayer.

‘His son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you; I no longer deserve to be called your son.” But his father ordered his servants, “Quickly bring the finest robe and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Take the fattened calf and slaughter it. Then let us celebrate with a feast, because this son of mine was dead, and has come to life again; he was lost, and has been found.”’ Luke 15:21-24



¹ Author of The Return Of The Prodigal Son

² Her husband of three years

Day 3 - Peace Be With You

‘On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, "Peace be with you." When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. (Jesus) said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained."’ John 20:19-23

Peace.

Don’t we all long for it?

I know I do.

Inner peace, peace-of-mind, a tranquil home, amiable co-workers, neighborly neighbors and a world free from war? It sounds like Heaven on earth. Where can we find it...?

Today I put myself with the apostles in the inner room. I accepted the Peace of Christ when He offered it to me—both times. I invited the Holy Spirit to dwell actively in me today. I asked for a day of spiritual communion.

Mostly I know what it takes to have peace: to let go of outcomes. It’s the old saying, pray as if everything depended on God and work as if everything depended on you and then trust that whatever happens is God’s Will.

He has sent me now to you. The Peace of Christ be with you!

Day 1 - Walking By Faith

‘Faith is the realization of what is hoped for and evidence of things not seen. Because of it the ancients were well attested. By faith we understand that the universe was ordered by the word of God, so that what is visible came into being through the invisible.’ Hebrews 11:1-3*

Raised in a good home by two loving parents, sent to Catholic schools for twelve years, married now for twenty-five to a devoted, believing husband, it’s easy for me to take my faith for granted. Not my Faith maybe—I remember often enough that Christians are still martyred even now. What I often fail to appreciate is the simple fact that I do believe, that I am able to believe . . . that God has granted me this grace, especially in this age and time of unbelief.

Today I began the retreat, a 30 day retreat. In his Introduction, Father Mills suggests taking some time to quiet yourself each day before reading the selection from the book, A 30 Day Retreat.

After the hectic pace of today, I was only too happy to oblige. I waited until my family had all left or gotten busy doing things. Then I relaxed in my easy chair with a neck support, closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. It was delicious to be quiet, to come away, to seek time out to be alone with Him.

I begin my retreat in joy and humble gratitude.

I also begin it in prayer. My prayer today is one of thanksgiving for the great gift I’ve been given, this incredible Gift of Faith. Reading further on in the eleventh chapter of Hebrews I learn of all my ancestors in faith—those wise women and brave men who walked this path before, who light the way.

Dear brothers and sisters-in-Christ, continue to pray for me, and all of us who know, love and serve Him. But even more, join us in praying for the millions who do not know God or what it is to believe. All journeys, ne all endeavors begin in faith, without which the next step would not, could not happen.



* All Scripture quotes used in this series are taken from the New American Bible, Catholic Edition, found at the USCCB website.

misshapen cup

Sometimes God grants me extraordinary graces. Well maybe He does it all the time and I just miss them. Today I noticed.

I am home alone today—a rare event for me these days—and I was listening to Brother Andre’s series on Mental Prayer. In it he was reading from Dom Eugene Boylan’s Difficulties in Mental Prayer which got me thinking deeply about my utter dependence on God, even for my own ability to pray to Him. What? I can’t even worship Him, love Him, tell Him I love Him without His help? No, no and no. I do know this. On a certain level, but in another way, how often do I really let that thought settle in, take hold of me and permeate everything I do, think and feel?

I saw myself—maybe for the first time, certainly for the first time in a long time—for what I am, a piece of clay, a lump of mud, a pile of dust. And yet God loves me?

The clay analogy made me think of my daughter who is taking a clay art class this semester in school. She recently gave me one of her rejected items, a cup. She was going to throw it away. She gives her nice pieces as gifts or keeps them herself, but this poor, misshapen cup she was going to toss. I rescued it from oblivion. After all, she made it. Its value lay in its creator, not in the creation itself—which brings me full circle back to my own soul.

My value lies not in the odd look my soul manifests due my own sinful nature, but in the fact that my Creator made me and KEPT ME! He didn’t choose to throw me away, though He certainly could have and based on the mess I’ve made of my cup (at times) He probably should have!

Instead, He keeps me and keeps on investing graces in me, whenever I ask ... and many times even when I forget to ask.

Today Lord, if possible, rewet and rework the original clay into something better. And yet, if it is for Your Greater Glory that I continue to be a misshapen cup, let me serve you as I am.

unworthy

Three quarters of the way into infamous “Pie Fight” from the 1965 classic comedy “The Great Race” the clown, I mean, crown prince comes into his own and utters a line my family enjoys very much and quotes very often: “You’re banished! I’m getting a new tucker-inner! Banished! Banished! Banished!”

We all enjoy laughing at this hilarious scene, the flying pies, the immaculate Leslie, the fate of the fired royal “tucker-inner” . . . or are we really amused by the antics of the pot-bellied prince in firing his staff? That someone can actually have—and lose—such a-hem (!) a prestigious position!

Or . . . could it be we can relate to that sense of being ‘banished’? Isn’t all humor pathos turned inside out?

Perhaps—without even realizing it—we are touched at a primordial level by that thrice spoken curse.

Do I go too far? Maybe.

Today’s three readings all hammer home the same message: man’s unworthiness, especially when seen with respect to God.

In the first reading, Isaiah is overwhelmed by the wretchedness of humanity when he cries out, “Woe is me, I am doomed! For I am a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts!” (Is 6:5)

In the second reading, St. Paul calls himself, ‘one born abnormally’ and, ‘the least of the apostles . . . not fit to be called an apostle.’ (1 Cor 15:9)

And finally, in the Gospel, when St. Peter sees the incredible catch of fish which filled both boats to the point of sinking—after a night of fruitless fishing—he falls at the knees of Jesus and says, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” (Lk 5:8)

Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy.

Yes, we are.

Indeed we are. But it's in the coming to see our very unworthiness, our deserved banishment that we can be rescued from it.

Jesus tells Peter it doesn’t matter, to be not afraid. There is work to be done—a new kind of ‘fishing’ to do. In effect, get to it.

Words I needed to hear today. How often do I look at myself and focus on my shortcomings?! They are numerous. They are equally pointless. However I look at it, I am unworthy, but I am still called.

CALLED.

Called from the banishment and unworthiness of my sins and my fallen state, by the One True God who made me, loves me and has a job for me to do.

Unworthy ... but called anyway! Here I am LORD!

Atticus

Atticus is both the book’s title and the name of the main character. Given the name’s connection to a famous novel, we are supposed to associate the ideal father in To Kill a Mockingbird with this father of two grown sons. Atticus is the modern day retelling of one of Jesus’ most beloved parables, The Prodigal Son, or as it is known in some circles today, The Loving Father. The focus of the first title being on the sins of younger son, whereas by changing the title the locus of the story shifts to that of the mercy shown by the all-compassionate father.

Without giving too much of the story away, Atticus is a widower with two sons. The older son, Frank, has obligingly remained close to his father, married, and produced grandchildren. The younger son, Scott, is a rebel. He comes home for a brief – but happy – visit at Christmas and then returns to Mexico where he lives his dissolute life. The next thing Atticus learns, Scott has committed suicide. Atticus flies south of the border to attend to his son’s personal affects and arrange to have his body returned to the United States. What he finds is nothing like what he expected.

I first encountered the author, Ron Hansen, in Mariette in Ecstasy and I was amazed by his insight and story-telling ability. Once again, he has produced a fine work of modern Christian fiction. Unfortunately it will fail to make many Christian book-of-the-month club selections due to some of the more unsavory aspects of human life which Mr. Hansen has chosen to portray. This is a loss, but only for those who refuse to read books because they are easily offended. I can assure sensitive readers that Mr. Hansen never goes out of his way to shock through excess, which is what I take exception to in so much of what masquerades as literature these days.

Although it could just be the locale, Atticus occasionally reminded me of Graham Greene’s 1940 novel, The Power and the Glory. I think it was a bit more than the sun-baked Mexican landscape that had me thinking of Greene’s whiskey priest, however. No doubt the younger son, Scott and his unsavory lifestyle, especially his unwillingness to give up his mistress, was reminiscent of Greene's character. Hansen’s writing, although not yet on par with Greene’s, is exquisite. His book goes down like a cool drink on a hot day.

I’ve always loved the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but then I expect most people do. It’s easy to see oneself and God in it, which is the purpose of all of Scripture. We are called to locate our sinful selves in the place of every sinner in the Bible. This parable has the redeeming quality of a visible, tangible, all-forgiving God who rushes out to meet us—despite what we actually deserve. In Hansen’s book, the father persists in loving his son despite circumstances and actions which seem to render him all but impossible to love. Oh but for such a father when we are similarly unlovable!

Here is a passage from Atticus which says it all:

‘She told him, "When I was in college I read a folktale about a father pursuing a son who'd run far away, from one world to the next. The father called to him, 'Please come back!' But his son looked across the great gulf between them and shouted to him, 'I can't go that far!' So his father yelled to his son, 'Then just come back halfway!' But his boy replied, I can't go back halfway!' And finally his father shouted, 'Walk back as far as you can! I'll go the rest of the way!'"’

Yes Lord, I’m walking … and looking for You! Please come the rest of the way!

Check out my books on Goodreads!

The Story of a Soul

As I’m writing this the State of Oklahoma could be executing Julius Young.

Tonight I went to my first ever execution vigil. No, it wasn’t down at the state capital. It was in our little Daily Mass Chapel at my parish. The prayer vigil was scheduled to begin at 5:30 which would bring things to a conclusion at 6 p.m. – just around when the execution was supposed to take place.

Everyone took turns reading from Scripture: the story of Cain and Abel, an eye for an eye, how many times must I forgive my brother? The lone candle in the center of the room was extinguished; there was one less light of Christ in the world. We concluded by singing “Amazing Grace”. Although we were a small group, one man had the most incredible voice. His could have been the voice we silenced, I mused.

Afterwards our little group lingered ... as if we didn’t want to leave the comfort of each other’s companionship. We all complimented the man with the incredible voice. Another man spoke up about his experience as the spiritual director for someone on Death Row. He and his wife had literally lived there for the last few months of a man’s life. We listened and learned about that person’s final few minutes on this earth; he was praying.

As I left the chapel I recalled a gift I’d received earlier in the day from my Confirmation saint, St. Thérèse. It’s been awhile since I’ve asked her for a rose but I needed one today and she gave me one, a very special and beautiful rose. I wasn’t expecting two.

Our book club is currently reading her autobiography, The Story of a Soul. In Chapter 5 of Story, Thérèse relates an incident about an impenitent murderer who she prayed for, begging God’s mercy in response to Jesus’ cry from the Cross, “I thirst” for souls. In response, the man gave a sign at the last moment which allowed her to know he had repented his sins. This increased Thérèse’s desire to bring more souls to her Jesus.

I saw her hand in my being at the prayer vigil. Please St. Thérèse, continue to rain your shower of roses down on us. And beg God’s mercy on us all! We are so much in need of it.

Trust in God

The trouble with being a book lady is that you read – or have read – and/or heard so many truisms, good words, wise sayings and profound thoughts from so many wonderful sources at different times and places, in various formats, written and verbal, you just can’t remember the origins of everything. Google and other Internet search engines are a great help in tracking down many things, but they can’t locate everything. Often, some of my favorite quotes and stories linger in my memory and form my conscious decision-making basis and yet I am unable to remember who first promulgated the idea or how to locate the exact words in a saying or place it contextually. It’s very frustrating to say the least. One wants to give credit where credit is due, of course. But also, there is always the sense of only having a fraction of the whole, a poor reproduction or a sloppy translation. (sigh)

One such normative principal for me concerns prayer. In case anyone who followed my earlier series on Mental Prayer is wondering, yes, I am still continuing on with it. In fact, for the first time in my life, my prayer life has taken wings. I have no idea where it is going, nor can I attribute it to any one particular book, method or routine. In fact, it’s almost been since I stopped forcing myself into the rigidity of fixed parameters—beyond that of adherence to a daily prayer commitment—I began to experience contemplative prayer for the first time in my life. My spiritual director confirmed that indeed it is possible to enter into contemplative prayer when one is washing dishes or doing almost any ordinary household task, although not advisable to do so when one is driving or operating dangerous machinery. But I digress.

What I was leading up to in the first paragraph was that I have always understood prayer to be ‘talking to God’. Listening to Him and hearing His answers are other matters entirely. They require much more spiritual maturity. Indeed listening to another human being, even one we think we know and love well, is no easy thing for most of us. Listening requires quieting our own minds, setting aside our own agendas and entering into a space with the other person. And yet even when we do this, we still bring ourselves into that new space. Indeed, we can’t leave our ‘self’ behind—well to certain extent, what would be the point? Presumably the person talking to us must have his/her own desire to talk to us as well. So what do we bring and what do we leave behind? Hopefully, we bring our compassion and our openness to the other person. We bring our desire to learn and be moved by what the other person has to say to us.

Now, extend that scenario to a conversation with God. He is talking to us ... or trying to. How can we or do we listen to Him? Do we attempt to squeeze Him into a few odd minutes here and there? Or do we fully enter into the time we give Him, and after presenting Him with our needs and concerns, petitions, thankfulness, sorrows, sins and ultimately our overwhelming love, adoration and worship, do we then rest in Him as we would in a lover’s arms? Can we settle quietly as His lost lamb ... rescued and now secure?

Somewhere, sometime I heard – or read – that one of the ways God speaks to us is through Holy Scripture. Not that we can use the Bible like an Ann Lander’s answer book: ask God a question and presto, open the pages to reveal God’s hidden truth for you. No, nothing like that. In fact, be very careful of doing anything like that! What I’m talking about is during your prayer time, it is often very helpful to have Holy Scripture or another favorite devotional book handy. Through these means God can and will sometimes provide words or an uncannily appropriate phrase which will touch your heart so deeply, you know without a doubt He has spoken directly to you. This is the half-remembered wisdom I wish I could trace back to its origins. I know I read it somewhere. I know it is true and that it is a reliable means of hearing His Voice.

Last night, I settled down in my bed, pulled the quilts up, propped my Bible on my knees and opened to Psalm 4. I have many, many favorite Psalms but I don’t think I ever appreciated this beautiful little song before or even paid it much attention.

A beautiful motto for the New Year, for the Epiphany and the rest of life: Trust in God. He is manifest!

My favorite parts from Psalm 4:

Answer when I call, my saving God.
In my troubles, you cleared a way;
Show me favor; hear my prayer.
Know that the LORD works wonders for the faithful;
The LORD hears when I call out.
Tremble and do not sin;
Upon your beds ponder in silence.
Offer fitting sacrifice and trust in the LORD.
Many say, "May we see better times!
LORD, show us the light of your face!"
But you have given my heart more Joy
than they have when grain and wine abound.
In peace I shall both lie down and sleep,
For you alone, LORD, make me secure.

Waiting for God

Samuel Beckett wrote a book called Waiting for Godot. It’s one of the many modern ‘classic’s I’ve yet to read. I wonder if I ever will read it. As a general rule I don’t like modern classics because their very modernity seems to be at odds with the true definition of a classic and the former wins out over the latter. I happen to prefer classic classics—classics which have stood the test of time. And yet, since we can see, ‘waiting for God’ in the title of Beckett’s book, I am intrigued by the potential connection.*

I know I am waiting for God. I’ve been waiting for Him for a very long time—not as long as some, but longer than others: fifty-something years if you must know. When I hit fifty I went through an aging crisis, the first and only time in my life getting older ever bothered me. Looking back I see now it was because I’d lost my way. If one has both eyes on God, then being fifteen or fifty is pretty much the same. Both ages can be a moment from His presence or thirty years.

Most of us don’t like waiting. That was the theme of our pastor’s homily last night. And yet he rightly reminded us about all the benefits God can draw from our waiting experiences: the savoring of anticipation, building of character, and growth in patience, to name but a few. So much good can come from waiting on God, doing things according to His Will, in His Time. If we but wait, when the harvest comes in, how wonderful is the feast! Many of us in America just experienced that as we sat down to our groaning tables Thanksgiving Day . . . and got up an hour or so later, groaning ourselves, from having feasted on His Bounty.

That’s fine for us, but what about those who are still waiting? Still hungry?

And of course that’s just the tip of the iceberg, as we all know. There are many, many other things—issues if you will—still unresolved, which seem to be on-hold, waiting: the poor, immigrants, the unborn, the lost, minorities, the lonely, homeless, the elderly, abused children, the dying, victims of crime, our planet, etc. The list goes on. Who or what are they waiting for? Does God hear their cry? Do we?

I don’t have answers, only questions and observations. I work for a church which pours Charity, not to mention hundreds of thousands of dollars every year, into the surrounding community and yet in recent years has had to install security lights, cameras (which have been repeatedly stolen) and locks everywhere for the protection of those who give so generously.

In our parish, we have those who bring food, clothing and emergency transportation to desperate people at all hours of the day and night, and have done so for years now. These veteran helpers are true Sons of St. Francis of Assisi and their stories are fascinating. In spite of many instances of personal danger, flagrant abuse, and hostility, they remain devoted and untiring ministers to those in need.

Our St. Vincent DePaul hotline receives threatening calls when the disgruntled ‘poor’ feel the service provided isn’t sufficient or prompt enough. “I think Channel XVZ needs to hear your church is doing false advertising! You say you’re there to help us but no one called me back tonight!”

Police vehicles camp in our parish parking lot every evening we have a function. I see them with gratitude but also with more than a trace of sadness, that their presence is necessary.

God we are waiting. We are still waiting. Advent is a time of waiting. We are your children, Lord, and we still await Your Coming.

Lord, come to our assistance. Make haste to help us!



*However, if you read the linked NY Times review of the play, you will learn that Beckett doesn't expect God to ever come to save mankind. Poor man!