The first of two posts containing reflections before the Blessed Sacrament during the Holy Thursday night/Good Friday morning adoration vigil:
2:10 am
What a gift you give us, Lord, to allow us to come into your presence, before your throne of grace, reverently worshipping you and interceding for those whom we love!
Thank you, Lord, for your holy suffering for me, for those I love. Thank you for allowing me to pray for my cousins [with whom I’d been recently reunited following their father’s death], each by name, to lift up their concerns, especially for their father, and also for the resulting rededication in prayer for my own dad. May you, O perfect Father, draw both Gary and Carl home to you in wholeness for all eternity.
Thank you, as well, for a blessed Holy Thursday Mass of your Supper. Bless Jodi and Matt this weekend as they lead us in music ministry. Bless Cassie and Heather on their trip. Bless my daughters with a renewed love for you, O Lord. Help our grandchildren to grow in you, as well. Heal () and () of their brokenness. Draw them to you.
2:30 am
Thank you for the Divine Office, and for your gifts of the Spirit!
Ps 22: “But I am a worm, and no man. Scorned by men. Despised by the people.” Lord, if you bore my sin, as you surely did, how could you have not been scorned, despised. I am scorned and despised not as I should be, for love of You, but because of my own sin. Yet in you I am made whole, and find my dignity in the only refuge for which I have any hope. And what a Hope!
“All who see me deride me.” Lord, I know this Psalm refers to you, but I (please forgive my impudence, if it be) find myself in it, too. I thank you for answering my prayer: “O Lord, do not leave me alone . . . Rescue me . . . Save me.”
Ps 38: “My wounds are foul and festering, the result of my own folly . . . I confess that I am guilty, and my sin fills me with dismay.”! And thank you again for answering this prayer: “O Lord, do not forsake me. My God, do not stay far off. Make haste and come to my help O Lord, my God, my Savior!”
Heb 9: “. . . how much more will the blood cleanse our consciences from dead works to worship the living God!” The blood of the sacrifice was the blood of the “testator,” now Christ. “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” The symbols of heaven called for these purifications, but reality for a perfect sacrifice. Parallel the delivery of today’s Jews from Egypt in union with their/our ancestors (“For this night we are delivered from our slavery”), being present today in the event of the distant past, with our participation today at Christ’s eternal sacrifice.
We are born to live in Him. For this reason, He was born to die for us.
St. John Chrysostom:
The saving power of the lamb’s blood was only because it prefigured Christ’s! Satan cannot enter into that which is protected by the blood of the Lamb! Our lips => the door of the Lord’s temple. Water and blood from the Lord’s side => Baptism and Eucharist. From his side Christ fashioned the Church, his Bride => Adam and Eve.
“By one and the same food we are both brought into being and nourished.”
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
Easter vigil
"Easter Vigil is only for the strong."
"It's typically a minimum of two full hours to get through the service, and if it's done right, it's liturgy at its very best and you don't want to miss it."
Which of these two invitations would be more likely to get you to the service?
Our pastor, unfortunately, used the former one, though I can't complain too much as it is one of the few times I've been disappointed in him in any way. I'm afraid to see how the parish is going to respond to it! I want the church to be full as our RCIA candidates and elect receive the sacraments of initiation.
The second quote above is from a blog I stumbled across, and represents my point of view better than I could have said it myself. At our parish, which uses every reading, the service is about 2-and-a-half hours, followed by a reception for the new Catholics. This is my first year being involved in our parish RCIA program (the last time was 1990 at Shemya); I'm usually too involved with music. But when I was asked by someone for whom I care deeply to be his sponsor, it was an opportunity I just couldn't turn down. What a blessing it has been to see the newcomers grow together, to watch them grapple with their respective concerns, and especially to see them grow closer to the Lord. I'm so excited for all of them, both in this wonderful time and for the walk with God they have ahead of them.
"It's typically a minimum of two full hours to get through the service, and if it's done right, it's liturgy at its very best and you don't want to miss it."
Which of these two invitations would be more likely to get you to the service?
Our pastor, unfortunately, used the former one, though I can't complain too much as it is one of the few times I've been disappointed in him in any way. I'm afraid to see how the parish is going to respond to it! I want the church to be full as our RCIA candidates and elect receive the sacraments of initiation.
The second quote above is from a blog I stumbled across, and represents my point of view better than I could have said it myself. At our parish, which uses every reading, the service is about 2-and-a-half hours, followed by a reception for the new Catholics. This is my first year being involved in our parish RCIA program (the last time was 1990 at Shemya); I'm usually too involved with music. But when I was asked by someone for whom I care deeply to be his sponsor, it was an opportunity I just couldn't turn down. What a blessing it has been to see the newcomers grow together, to watch them grapple with their respective concerns, and especially to see them grow closer to the Lord. I'm so excited for all of them, both in this wonderful time and for the walk with God they have ahead of them.
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Quiet Presence
Today was the first time I can ever remember our men's group sitting for so long as we did, just quietly basking in the presence of the Lord. I had what seemed like an incredible glimpse into eternity, almost a vision of the whole of salvation history - past, present, and future - being present in the moment that we were gathered together in silence. And I could tell as we sat together that we were sharing a wonderful awareness of God's presence.
We also had a wonderful reunion with dear friends from long ago who were in town for the weekend. It was a joy to be able to see how their family has grown, to share these few brief hours together in their company.
We also had a wonderful reunion with dear friends from long ago who were in town for the weekend. It was a joy to be able to see how their family has grown, to share these few brief hours together in their company.
Friday, April 07, 2006
The Lord's Prayer - Our Daddy
Last night I heard a wonderful reflection on The Lord's Prayer, offered by a fellow parishioner and dear friend. The beginning of it caused me to reflect a little on what this prayer means to me.
Unlike my friend, I don't have many fond memories of my earthly father. In fact, speaking of "my father" is a little tricky. Do I mean my biological father? Rarely. He decided soon after I was born that life with my mom was a little too much like what he'd been trying to escape from, which maybe hadn't been so awful after all. I'm glad he went back to his family; it's where he belonged. But four and a half decades later, I still wonder: did he ever think of me again?
Most often when I say "Dad," I'm referring to my adoptive father, who married my mom when I was around 3. One of my earliest memories is of being carried into his house on his shoulder, when we moved in. I fondly remember going to Orioles' games, and one Colts' game, with him, and watching both on television often. He taught me to appreciate sports as a spectator, and because of his longing to relive the glory days of his youthful athletic prowess - abilities which I didn't share with him - to dread them as a participant. I know he tried to accept me as his own, but in retrospect I think he never quite managed it. Eventually he drowned in the bottle by which he attempted to escape his misery. That leaves the worst anecdote untold, but I pray he has accepted the peace and love in death that eluded him in life.
Rarely do I refer to my stepfather in any other way than as "my stepfather." For one thing, he didn't marry my mom until I was grown, though he was very much a part of our lives by my mid-teens. He taught me many useful things, and nurtured my self-confidence in ways Dad just wasn't equipped to do. Aside from that, I choose to say little about him here, mostly because I've forgiven him my deepest hurt as I've received similar forgiveness myself. We don't speak often, but I always pray for the best for him.
Which brings us, at last, back to this wonderful prayer. Even though my own experiences of earthly fatherhood have not been generally positive - and I realize I'm not alone in that - I know I have a Dad who loves me perfectly. Our Father, our wonderful God, is a Papa who is always eager to draw us into his loving embrace. We need never fear him; though the circumstances of life may vacillate between excruciating pain and abundant joy, our Divine Daddy is with us, sharing our joy and comforting our sorrow. Whatever we have done to distance ourselves from him, he always offers us understanding and forgiveness. Through Jesus, his eternally begotten Son by very nature, he has chosen each of us and made us a beloved son or daughter, despite having already seen all the ways we will ever lash out against him, every manner in which we'll ever hurt his other precious children. He is ever reconciling us to himself and to one another through his Son, our Savior (which I think relates to my preceeding post, as well).
I am so glad - so blessed! - to have such a wonderful Abba!
Unlike my friend, I don't have many fond memories of my earthly father. In fact, speaking of "my father" is a little tricky. Do I mean my biological father? Rarely. He decided soon after I was born that life with my mom was a little too much like what he'd been trying to escape from, which maybe hadn't been so awful after all. I'm glad he went back to his family; it's where he belonged. But four and a half decades later, I still wonder: did he ever think of me again?
Most often when I say "Dad," I'm referring to my adoptive father, who married my mom when I was around 3. One of my earliest memories is of being carried into his house on his shoulder, when we moved in. I fondly remember going to Orioles' games, and one Colts' game, with him, and watching both on television often. He taught me to appreciate sports as a spectator, and because of his longing to relive the glory days of his youthful athletic prowess - abilities which I didn't share with him - to dread them as a participant. I know he tried to accept me as his own, but in retrospect I think he never quite managed it. Eventually he drowned in the bottle by which he attempted to escape his misery. That leaves the worst anecdote untold, but I pray he has accepted the peace and love in death that eluded him in life.
Rarely do I refer to my stepfather in any other way than as "my stepfather." For one thing, he didn't marry my mom until I was grown, though he was very much a part of our lives by my mid-teens. He taught me many useful things, and nurtured my self-confidence in ways Dad just wasn't equipped to do. Aside from that, I choose to say little about him here, mostly because I've forgiven him my deepest hurt as I've received similar forgiveness myself. We don't speak often, but I always pray for the best for him.
Which brings us, at last, back to this wonderful prayer. Even though my own experiences of earthly fatherhood have not been generally positive - and I realize I'm not alone in that - I know I have a Dad who loves me perfectly. Our Father, our wonderful God, is a Papa who is always eager to draw us into his loving embrace. We need never fear him; though the circumstances of life may vacillate between excruciating pain and abundant joy, our Divine Daddy is with us, sharing our joy and comforting our sorrow. Whatever we have done to distance ourselves from him, he always offers us understanding and forgiveness. Through Jesus, his eternally begotten Son by very nature, he has chosen each of us and made us a beloved son or daughter, despite having already seen all the ways we will ever lash out against him, every manner in which we'll ever hurt his other precious children. He is ever reconciling us to himself and to one another through his Son, our Savior (which I think relates to my preceeding post, as well).
I am so glad - so blessed! - to have such a wonderful Abba!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Thoughts from St. Augustine
Most of my blog references to the writings of the saints, unless indicated otherwise in the blog somewhere such as a book I'm reading, are from the Divine Office. This was from Wednesday:
"God could give no greater gift to men than to make his Word, through whom he created all things, their head, and to join them to him as his members, so that the Word might be both Son of God and son of man, one God with the Father, and one man with all men. The result is that when we speak with God in prayer we do not separate the Son from him, and when the body of the Son prays it does not separate its head from itself: it is the one Savior of his body, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who prays for us and in us and is himself the object of our prayers.
"He prays for us as our priest, he prays in us as our head, he is the object of our prayers as our God."
No wonder this saint is a Doctor of the Church! It seems preposterous to think I might add anything, and still I type. To misapply scripture: focus on the things above, not the things below!
This is why prayer is effective. It isn't some mumbo-jumbo, a magic trick, a bargaining process, a reward for being good, or an attempt to earn a favor. When we pray, fast, or give alms in one form or another, it is not just us doing it. Since it is Christ at work in his body, thus are we transformed, even though the primary objective we might have in mind is not our own transformation. In fact, all the better if it isn't. It is always what Christ desires for us, though, and what he effects within us. But since Jesus is one with all people, and we are one with our Head, then it is impossible to sincerely ask God to meet our needs alone, or to only meet the needs of others. In each case, God will be working in others through us and in us through others.
"God could give no greater gift to men than to make his Word, through whom he created all things, their head, and to join them to him as his members, so that the Word might be both Son of God and son of man, one God with the Father, and one man with all men. The result is that when we speak with God in prayer we do not separate the Son from him, and when the body of the Son prays it does not separate its head from itself: it is the one Savior of his body, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who prays for us and in us and is himself the object of our prayers.
"He prays for us as our priest, he prays in us as our head, he is the object of our prayers as our God."
No wonder this saint is a Doctor of the Church! It seems preposterous to think I might add anything, and still I type. To misapply scripture: focus on the things above, not the things below!
This is why prayer is effective. It isn't some mumbo-jumbo, a magic trick, a bargaining process, a reward for being good, or an attempt to earn a favor. When we pray, fast, or give alms in one form or another, it is not just us doing it. Since it is Christ at work in his body, thus are we transformed, even though the primary objective we might have in mind is not our own transformation. In fact, all the better if it isn't. It is always what Christ desires for us, though, and what he effects within us. But since Jesus is one with all people, and we are one with our Head, then it is impossible to sincerely ask God to meet our needs alone, or to only meet the needs of others. In each case, God will be working in others through us and in us through others.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
A wonderful evening
Lord, let there be no boasting in this post, save in You.
It was so nice last night to get my wife back home. She and our youngest grandchild had a very nice visit with her parents over the previous week. It's hard to explain how it feels to be apart from her. It isn't that she completes me; only God does that. Yet I think we both have a deep sense of belonging together, and when we're not, we miss one another, yet we know we're still united. I don't think either of us feel an unhealthy pining when we're apart. I had a pretty active week, and was never exactly sad, and yet I missed her, looked forward to being with her again, and now she's home. **Pleasant sigh**
In a normal week, her homecoming might have led me to skip our Tuesday night prayer group. But we didn't meet last week because of a conflicting parish event, and I will miss the next two meetings. Besides, Teri wanted to attend her faith sharing group, as well, so it worked out nicely for both of us. What a wonderful meeting, with a reminder to trust that God's gifts to us are always priceless treasures, even if they are sometimes veiled.
The other reason I might have wanted to skip last night's meeting was the women's basketball final. Nobody picked the Terps to be in that game, and even after beating the concensus best team in the country for the second time (UNC's only two defeats, mind you), no one picked them to win it. We have friends who are Duke alumni, and we put a small wager on the game: a contribution to one another's Easter dinner. Even though the young, inexperienced, underdog Terps won the game - and we won the bet - our friends are going to get a delicious cheesecake from the family recipe anyway. It was an exciting, inspiring overtime victory.
Afterward, and after some quality time during and after the game with the mrs., I could tell that my body still needed some time to relax, to unwind, so I reclined on the sofa to read a little of Saint Teresa. As I sat down, I was immediately aware that, as heart-pounding as the game was, the prayer meeting had been a more wonderful thing. My reunion with my wife, too, far outshone it. And this time I was now spending in the silence, in God's presence reflecting on the words written by this inspired saint - well, if they're not inspired they're not saints, but you know what I mean - was the sumptuous dessert of a splendid banquet of a day. I know that this was another wonderful glimpse of the banquet will never truly end.
It was so nice last night to get my wife back home. She and our youngest grandchild had a very nice visit with her parents over the previous week. It's hard to explain how it feels to be apart from her. It isn't that she completes me; only God does that. Yet I think we both have a deep sense of belonging together, and when we're not, we miss one another, yet we know we're still united. I don't think either of us feel an unhealthy pining when we're apart. I had a pretty active week, and was never exactly sad, and yet I missed her, looked forward to being with her again, and now she's home. **Pleasant sigh**
In a normal week, her homecoming might have led me to skip our Tuesday night prayer group. But we didn't meet last week because of a conflicting parish event, and I will miss the next two meetings. Besides, Teri wanted to attend her faith sharing group, as well, so it worked out nicely for both of us. What a wonderful meeting, with a reminder to trust that God's gifts to us are always priceless treasures, even if they are sometimes veiled.
The other reason I might have wanted to skip last night's meeting was the women's basketball final. Nobody picked the Terps to be in that game, and even after beating the concensus best team in the country for the second time (UNC's only two defeats, mind you), no one picked them to win it. We have friends who are Duke alumni, and we put a small wager on the game: a contribution to one another's Easter dinner. Even though the young, inexperienced, underdog Terps won the game - and we won the bet - our friends are going to get a delicious cheesecake from the family recipe anyway. It was an exciting, inspiring overtime victory.
Afterward, and after some quality time during and after the game with the mrs., I could tell that my body still needed some time to relax, to unwind, so I reclined on the sofa to read a little of Saint Teresa. As I sat down, I was immediately aware that, as heart-pounding as the game was, the prayer meeting had been a more wonderful thing. My reunion with my wife, too, far outshone it. And this time I was now spending in the silence, in God's presence reflecting on the words written by this inspired saint - well, if they're not inspired they're not saints, but you know what I mean - was the sumptuous dessert of a splendid banquet of a day. I know that this was another wonderful glimpse of the banquet will never truly end.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Glory versus death; pride and fear
St. Leo the Great:
"The earth - our earthly nature - should tremble at the suffering of its Redeemer. The rocks - the hearts of unbelievers - should burst asunder. The dead, imprisoned in the tombs of their mortality, should come forth, the massive stones now ripped apart . . . .
"The body that lay lifeless in the tomb is ours. The body that rose again on the third day is ours. The body that ascended above all the heights of heaven to the right hand of the Father's glory is ours."
Then why do we insist on remaining entombed? Why do we cling to being dead rather than embracing the glory to which we are called? Why do we embrace the pleasures and comforts of this world as if they were the life that lasts?
The other day I had a thought that I think is related to these questions: our two greatest obstacles to becoming the glorious saints God desires for us to become are our pride and our fear, and they are more closely related than we often realize.
Even though I've been blessed with a relationship with the Lord for over 20 years now, I have nonetheless lived much of my life as a slave to sensuality - that is, to the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of the physical appetites as ends in themselves. Our society tells us that the treasure of life lies chiefly in the sights, sounds, tastes and scents, and touches that we experience. Every avenue of art and commerce are predicated on convincing us that our lives will be poorer if we fail to experience what they offer us.
God tells us the same thing.
So why do we insist on believing the world?
Pride, and fear.
We are proud of who we are. We are rational, healthy people who don't need a crutch to get through life. We have accomplished much, and we must have the recognition for it.
And we are afraid that if we believe God instead, we're going to miss out on life. Let's face it, there are a lot of pleasurable things that God asks us to receive differently from him than the world offers it. Moderation doesn't seem fun. We're afraid that life according to God's desire for us will be less than life done our own way.
I know it isn't that simple. But doesn't it seem like that's a pretty big piece of the problem?
"The earth - our earthly nature - should tremble at the suffering of its Redeemer. The rocks - the hearts of unbelievers - should burst asunder. The dead, imprisoned in the tombs of their mortality, should come forth, the massive stones now ripped apart . . . .
"The body that lay lifeless in the tomb is ours. The body that rose again on the third day is ours. The body that ascended above all the heights of heaven to the right hand of the Father's glory is ours."
Then why do we insist on remaining entombed? Why do we cling to being dead rather than embracing the glory to which we are called? Why do we embrace the pleasures and comforts of this world as if they were the life that lasts?
The other day I had a thought that I think is related to these questions: our two greatest obstacles to becoming the glorious saints God desires for us to become are our pride and our fear, and they are more closely related than we often realize.
Even though I've been blessed with a relationship with the Lord for over 20 years now, I have nonetheless lived much of my life as a slave to sensuality - that is, to the gratification of the senses or the indulgence of the physical appetites as ends in themselves. Our society tells us that the treasure of life lies chiefly in the sights, sounds, tastes and scents, and touches that we experience. Every avenue of art and commerce are predicated on convincing us that our lives will be poorer if we fail to experience what they offer us.
God tells us the same thing.
So why do we insist on believing the world?
Pride, and fear.
We are proud of who we are. We are rational, healthy people who don't need a crutch to get through life. We have accomplished much, and we must have the recognition for it.
And we are afraid that if we believe God instead, we're going to miss out on life. Let's face it, there are a lot of pleasurable things that God asks us to receive differently from him than the world offers it. Moderation doesn't seem fun. We're afraid that life according to God's desire for us will be less than life done our own way.
I know it isn't that simple. But doesn't it seem like that's a pretty big piece of the problem?
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