Tag Archives: meditation

Lip Sync and Sanctity

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I’ve been making an effort to say the Divine Office.  It’s not the easiest thing I’ve ever done.  There’s a lot of page flipping and ignorance on my part.  But I humbly applaud my efforts.  My “cloud of witnesses,” I’m sure, agree.

Recently, an absolute marvel of a website, DivineOffice.org gave my prayer time a boost.  With  iPod and  prayer book,  I now sit before the Blessed Sacrament, lips moving in sync with Morning Prayer.  No sound escapes my lips to disturb the silence of the Adoration Chapel, but heavenly voices do sound in my ears.  My prayer wings its way to the throne of God.  I don’t think I’m pushing a spiritual envelope here, but it proves to me technology can be a friend.  The limits I am pushing are those that limit me to me, myself and I.  As I pray, the accompaniment of gifted voices reminds me that the Divine Office is meant to be a communal prayer.  God, Who is outside Time and Space and yet fills it,  hears all of His children making a joyful noise as He inclines His ear.  Some might feel that it’s somehow holier to read than to listen but the Book of Revelation does bless “those that hear,” so I don’t think I’m breaking new holy ground.

Thinking about Communion

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Another day in which to praise the Lord.  So again we begin.  That’s how I feel, that I am always at the beginning, trying to live just one day as I ought.  In this day and age, many people despise the word “ought.”  It may be that “ought” presumes some actual Truth and Lawgiver.  How gosh in this so sophisticated an age.  Though finding the Truth does wonders for our compass.   Take Communion:  “The Bread that I will give is My flesh, for the life of the world.” John 6:52 “This is My Body, that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of Me.” 1 Cor 11:24  This morning once again I will receive the Lord of Lords in Holy Communion.  At least, today, since I am thinking about it out loud, I can see that on most mornings I do this with little thought.  Here is how Thomas a’Kempis put it:

Solomon, the wisest of the kings of Israel, spent seven years building a magnificent temple in praise of Your name, and celebrated its dedication with a feast of eight days. He offered a thousand victims in Your honor and solemnly bore the Ark of the Covenant with trumpeting and jubilation to the place prepared for it; and I, unhappy and poorest of men, how shall I lead You into my house, I who scarcely can spend a half-hour devoutly — would that I could spend even that as I ought!

O my God, how hard these men tried to please You! Alas, how little is all that I do! How short the time I spend in preparing for Communion! I am seldom wholly recollected, and very seldom, indeed, entirely free from distraction. Yet surely in the presence of Your life-giving Godhead no unbecoming thought should arise and no creature possess my heart, for I am about to receive as my guest, not an angel, but the very Lord of angels.

Not to be deterred, I remember,too, Jesus’ words, “Come to Me. all you that labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you.” Matt 11:28  I am often my biggest burden but I have great hope for me.  Is it any wonder with so generous a God?

Speaking from the Fourth Century

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Hate for you to miss this.   The writer says that we are  led invisibly in our hearts by grace.  That’s comforting to me because when I feel now one way and then soon the other, I feel tossed about and ungrounded as though I’ve lost my spiritual moorings.

From a homily by a spiritual writer of the fourth century:

At times they are like men who mourn and lament over their fellow men, and pouring forth prayers for the whole human race, they plunge into tears and lamentation, on fire with spiritual love for mankind.

At other times they are enkindled by the Spirit with such love and exultation that, were it possible, they would clasp in their embrace all mankind, without discrimination, good and bad alike.

Sometimes they are cast down below all mankind in lowliness of spirit, so that they reckon theirs to be the lowest and most abject of conditions.

And sometimes they are held by the Spirit in ineffable joy.

At one time they are like a brave man who puts on the king’s full armor and goes down into battle. He fights bravely against the enemy and defeats them. In like manner, the spiritual man takes up the heavenly arms of the Spirit and marches against the enemy and engaging in battle tramples the foe beneath his feet.

At another time the soul is at rest in deepest silence, tranquility and peace, existing in sheer spiritual pleasure and in ineffable repose and a perfect state.  Again, the soul is instructed by grace in a certain understanding in the ineffable wisdom and the inscrutable knowledge of the Spirit on matters which neither tongue nor lips can utter.

Then again, the soul becomes like any ordinary man.

In such varied ways does grace work within them and many are the means by which it leads the soul, renewing it according to God’s will and training it in different ways so that it may be set before the heavenly Father pure and whole and blameless.

We, too, therefore must make our prayer to God and entreat in love and in great hope that he may bestow upon us the heavenly grace of the gift of the Spirit.

Remembering

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Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs

You shall be my witnesses
The crosses were set in place. Father Pasio and Father Rodriguez took turns encouraging the victims. Their steadfast behavior was wonderful to see. The Father Bursar stood motionless, his eyes turned heavenward. Brother Martin gave thanks to God’s goodness by singing psalms. Again and again he repeated: “Into your hands, Lord, I entrust my life.” Brother Francis Branco also thanked God in a loud voice. Brother Gonsalvo in a very loud voice kept saying the Our Father and Hail Mary.
Our brother, Paul Miki, saw himself standing now in the noblest pulpit he had ever filled. To his “congregation” he began by proclaiming himself a Japanese and a Jesuit. He was dying for the Gospel he preached. He gave thanks to God for this wonderful blessing and he ended his “sermon” with these words: “As I come to this supreme moment of my life, I am sure none of you would suppose I want to deceive you. And so I tell you plainly: there is no way to be saved except the Christian way. My religion teaches me to pardon my enemies and all who have offended me. I do gladly pardon the Emperor and all who have sought my death. I beg them to seek baptism and be Christians themselves.”
Then he looked at his comrades and began to encourage them in their final struggle. Joy glowed in all their faces, and in Louis’ most of all. When a Christian in the crowd cried out to him that he would soon be in heaven, his hands, his whole body strained upward with such joy that every eye was fixed on him.
Anthony, hanging at Louis’ side, looked toward heaven and called upon the holy names – “Jesus, Mary!” He began to sing a psalm: “Praise the Lord, you children!” (He learned it in catechism class in Nagasaki. They take care there to teach the children some psalms to help them learn their catechism).
Others kept repeating “Jesus, Mary!” Their faces were serene. Some of them even took to urging the people standing by to live worthy Christian lives. In these and other ways they showed their readiness to die.
Then, according to Japanese custom, the four executioners began to unsheathe their spears. At this dreadful sight, all the Christians cried out, “Jesus, Mary!” And the storm of anguished weeping then rose to batter the very skies. The executioners killed them one by one. One thrust of the spear, then a second blow. It was over in a very short time.

Get the Picture

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Here’s the vision as it was related to me.  You and I squeak pass the Pearly Gates.  People of all ages overwhelm even our enhanced understanding of the generations descended from Adam and Eve.  We can’t wait to embrace them.  Instantly, we know their stories.  These are those who lived Salvation history.  “What was it like?”,  we ask over and again?   These, after all, are those who walked dry shod through the walls of water escaping Pharaoh’s chariots.  Here, too,  are the masses who had pressed upon the Christ.  They’d witnessed the manner and miracles of Jesus.  Some has eaten the bread and fish He’d multiplied.  Others admitted that they had shouted, “Crucify Him.”  Others had stood along the way as He pushed on to Calvary. The martyrs from all past centuries were among the most joyful.  They now rejoiced that their blood shed for Christ seeded the proceeding eons to bear fruit in such as we.  For all our eagerness to express our gratitude to them and give glory to God, they pressed the more upon us for their need to know our stories.  “Tell us,”  they asked, “how black did the times become when men who pretend to knowledge denied life in the womb.  How dark were the days in which the hearts of mothers died, choosing  to bring forth corpses instead of  living children.  You, who lived with blindness and deafness,  how did you survive?  Like Peter, was it repentance that  re-ignited your flame?   How did you find courage walking  the Valley of the Shadow of Death?  How bright was the Light that brought you home?”