It seems that my preparation is always better than my celebration.
I don't mean that I don't know how to celebrate, and I'm not talking about my personal life. For things like family feast days, I've actually gotten pretty good at getting the groundwork laid and being able to enjoy the moment.
But when it comes to the great liturgical seasons, it seems as if my Advent and Lent are better spiritually than my Christmas and Easter seasons are. My rhythm of prayer in those seasons of preparation and repentance is more consistent and effective.
So this morning I found myself revisiting for the first time this year the words that the Church shares with us in the Office of Readings for the feast of the Holy Family, which we celebrated on Sunday. I was so caught up in the flurry of Christmas activity and unimportant things that I have neglected coming to where God wants me to spend time daily. I was concerned I'd missed something important from this wonderful feast day, and so I turned to the reading by Pope Paul VI, written in 1964, in which he discusses the lessons of Nazareth for us:
First, we learn from its silence. If only we could once again appreciate its great value. We need this wonderful state of mind, beset as we are by the cacophony of strident protests and conflicting claims so characteristic of these turbulent times. The silence of Nazareth should teach us how to meditate in peace and quiet, to reflect on the deeply spiritual, and to be open to the source of God's inner wisdom and the counsel of his true teachers. Nazareth can teach us the value of study and preparation, of meditation, of a well-ordered personal spiritual life, and of silent prayer that is known only to God.
Even as I enter into prayer before the light of the Christmas tree, my mind tends to be more enamored of such words of truth and my response to them, rather than the simple presence of God, into which they are meant to carry me. So now I turn from capturing my own thoughts, to simply soak in God's presence for a too-brief moment before moving on to my work day.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
A long-awaited Advent
I have so enjoyed spending the last few evenings reflecting on the Office of Readings with my bride. We have been combining the Evening Prayer psalms with the longer reflections from the OoR, and I hope she has enjoyed it as much as I have.
Today's reading from St. Bernard is one of my favorites. I have written a little about it thrice before, and will not quote it again here. It was especially nice to be able to share my enjoyment of it with my dear wife.
This is one of the readings that I look forward to encountering year after year, each time entering into it a little deeper than the time before. Bringing someone else I love into this one with me was a special treat.
Today's reading from St. Bernard is one of my favorites. I have written a little about it thrice before, and will not quote it again here. It was especially nice to be able to share my enjoyment of it with my dear wife.
This is one of the readings that I look forward to encountering year after year, each time entering into it a little deeper than the time before. Bringing someone else I love into this one with me was a special treat.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Advent lessons
During Advent and Lent, I'm always tempted to skip the saints' feast days and focus on the daily Office of Readings for the season. But this morning I caught up again with St. Jane Frances de Chantal (from Saturday) and San Juan de la Cruz (today), both of whom had words out encouragement that I was in a good place to receive this morning.
Wednesday, December 02, 2015
Getting behind on Advent, already . . .
. . . but not in the usual way, yet.
A funny thing happens with the season of Advent. There are some great memorial days, but when I pray the Office of Readings for those days, it usually means I don't have time to reflect on the office for the Advent weekday.
So the very first weekday this Advent was the feast of St. Andrew. There was a really nice reflection on Andrew's probable role in leading his brother, Simon Peter, to Jesus. But since then I've been opening to Monday's daily readings, for last night's reflection and now again this morning, where a thought from Isaiah has struck me. But the time with the Lord each day is more important than the specific "accomplishment" of it, and is about far more than my own thoughts. In this moment, it occurs to me that perhaps I have oft put too much emphasis on my own reflection rather than simply being in God's presence.
The thought from Monday's Isaiah passage, briefly:
How she has turned adulteress, the faithful city, so upright! Justice used to lodge within her, but now murderers. Your silver is turned to dross. Your wine is mixed with water. - Is 1:21-22
The next couple verses contain more of the same. Many fear a similar lament over America. I am more concerned about making sure that I and those I love don't have to hear such harsh words.
Come, Lord Jesus. Fill the hearts of your faithful.
A funny thing happens with the season of Advent. There are some great memorial days, but when I pray the Office of Readings for those days, it usually means I don't have time to reflect on the office for the Advent weekday.
So the very first weekday this Advent was the feast of St. Andrew. There was a really nice reflection on Andrew's probable role in leading his brother, Simon Peter, to Jesus. But since then I've been opening to Monday's daily readings, for last night's reflection and now again this morning, where a thought from Isaiah has struck me. But the time with the Lord each day is more important than the specific "accomplishment" of it, and is about far more than my own thoughts. In this moment, it occurs to me that perhaps I have oft put too much emphasis on my own reflection rather than simply being in God's presence.
The thought from Monday's Isaiah passage, briefly:
How she has turned adulteress, the faithful city, so upright! Justice used to lodge within her, but now murderers. Your silver is turned to dross. Your wine is mixed with water. - Is 1:21-22
The next couple verses contain more of the same. Many fear a similar lament over America. I am more concerned about making sure that I and those I love don't have to hear such harsh words.
Come, Lord Jesus. Fill the hearts of your faithful.
Tuesday, December 01, 2015
Thoughts on a pastoral letter by St. Charles Borromeo
Beloved, now is the acceptable time spoken of by the Spirit, the day of salvation, peace and reconciliation: the great season of Advent.
It feels like a time to acknowledge the ways that I grew as a disciple last year, and the ways that I did not. More importantly, it feels like an acceptable time to let the Lord turn some of the latter into the former. I don't know why I keep feeling like I'm missing out on something by denying what I've let myself think of as a part of myself. But I think it's time to trust that God provides for the things that really are needs, just as he has provided abundantly for us financially.
When I pray the fifth Sorrowful Mystery, I contemplate the Seven Last Words of Jesus on the cross, along with the last three Stations of the Cross. One of these is, This day, you will be with me in paradise. I'm reminded, too, of the words of Psalm 95: Today, hearken to the voice of the Lord. This day is the acceptable time, and while that is true of every day, it feels especially true of this wonderful season of Advent.
One day, though, we will find that all days are one this day.
When we remove all obstacles to his presence he will come, at any hour and moment, to dwell spiritually in our hearts, bringing with him the riches of his grace.
True, except. It makes it sound as if it's up to us to remove all obstacles, when the only obstacle we must - or can hope to - remove is our stubborn, selfish will. As soon as we submit that to him, humbly, even acknowledging when we can't accomplish it, but only want to, and recognizing that the wanting is a gift of the richness of his grace, too, we find him transforming our desert into an abundant garden of spiritual blessing. The more we cooperate with his grace, the more he blesses us, or rather, the more we can receive his blessings.
So this Advent season, the Church calls us to prepare for him the place that matters most.
It feels like a time to acknowledge the ways that I grew as a disciple last year, and the ways that I did not. More importantly, it feels like an acceptable time to let the Lord turn some of the latter into the former. I don't know why I keep feeling like I'm missing out on something by denying what I've let myself think of as a part of myself. But I think it's time to trust that God provides for the things that really are needs, just as he has provided abundantly for us financially.
When I pray the fifth Sorrowful Mystery, I contemplate the Seven Last Words of Jesus on the cross, along with the last three Stations of the Cross. One of these is, This day, you will be with me in paradise. I'm reminded, too, of the words of Psalm 95: Today, hearken to the voice of the Lord. This day is the acceptable time, and while that is true of every day, it feels especially true of this wonderful season of Advent.
One day, though, we will find that all days are one this day.
When we remove all obstacles to his presence he will come, at any hour and moment, to dwell spiritually in our hearts, bringing with him the riches of his grace.
True, except. It makes it sound as if it's up to us to remove all obstacles, when the only obstacle we must - or can hope to - remove is our stubborn, selfish will. As soon as we submit that to him, humbly, even acknowledging when we can't accomplish it, but only want to, and recognizing that the wanting is a gift of the richness of his grace, too, we find him transforming our desert into an abundant garden of spiritual blessing. The more we cooperate with his grace, the more he blesses us, or rather, the more we can receive his blessings.
So this Advent season, the Church calls us to prepare for him the place that matters most.
Middle of the night reflux
I've been making a bad habit of eating late - pie, lately. On Sunday night/Monday morning I woke up with the back of my mouth full of acid reflux. It wasn't the first recent episode, but far and away the worst. So I'm not eating anything after 8 p.m. I'm afraid to drink anything, too, and I'm feeling pretty thirsty this evening.
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