A prayer for a deeper faith

I found a hymn that I used at Mass yesterday because it was inspired by the Gospel of the call of Peter. Its text is rich and inspiring. I’m offering the entire text to you today for your meditation. If the Spirit so leads, I will be commenting on it over the next couple of days. But for today, just let the text touch you where it will. Here it is:

From shallow waters call us, Lord,

From safety near the shore,

And bid us launch upon the depths

Where faith is tested more.

Let not past failures hope destroy

Nor caution paralyze,

But help us follow where you lead

And wait for Love’s surprise.

We cannot fish the ocean’s depths

With nets shrunk small by fear.

We need the gift of greater faith

When we your summons hear.

And, if we plead unworthiness

From what your call demands,

Then may we trust you’ll cleanse and calm

Our soiled, unsteady hands.

We dare to launch on unknown seas

And cast our nets abroad,

For you have bid us grasp by faith

The promises of God.

O Christ, you crossed the same wide seas

You send us now to sail;

Be present when we reach the depths

With strength that does not fail!

For neither fear nor scorn nor death

Could turn you back to land.

You knew no storms could carry you

Beyond your Father’s hand.

Your cross seemed but a fragile craft

Upon an angry sea,

Till Easter dawn brought light and peace

Through Love that sets us free!

Herman G. Stuempfle, Jr. 1973-2007. © 2006, GIA Publications, Inc.

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He will not give up on you

In today’s Gospel passage for Mass (Luke 5:1-11), Jesus calls Peter to be the first of his apostles. Peter, the fisherman: uneducated, poor, living a life of hard labor, and, by his own admission, a sinner. When he realized that he was in the presence of a great and holy man (the Gospel doesn’t tell us exactly what Peter thought of Jesus), he fell to his knees and cried out, “Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” But Jesus didn’t depart. He had great love for the sinful man—great love for us sinners, as well—and he called him to become a member of his company.

Little did Peter know at that moment just how great was his destiny. Little did he know what he would be learning by following Jesus. Little did he know how he would be put to the test many times over the next three years. Little did he know how serious would be the sins he would commit even though he had been close to the Lord and tried to follow him.

And again, faced with a great sinner—one who had actually denied that he even knew Jesus, Jesus never rebukes him. Instead, he speaks of love: “Do you love me?” he asks Peter three times. (John 21:15-21)

So understand this: Your sin does not drive Jesus away, it brings him closer to you. Your sin does not cut you off from his love: in fact his love is even greater. Your sin doesn’t mean that you don’t love Jesus, either. Your failure doesn’t betray that love. And over and above all the sins you may have committed, no matter how despicable they may be—over and above all of that are the extended arms of Jesus ready to embrace you, to forgive you, and perhaps even challenge you to pick yourself up and follow him again. And despite all of your unworthiness, no matter how it is that you find yourself unworthy, he may want to use you to do great things in this world.

Peter cries, “Depart from me, Lord.” The Gospel—the Good News—is that he will not depart from you, no matter what. Cling to that hope.

God bless you.

You don't have to do it by yourself

From the Rule of Saint Benedict:

What is not possible to us by nature, let us ask the Lord to supply by the help of his grace. (Prologue:41)

I remember an old monk who often said, “All is grace, brothers, all is grace.”

Think of it: How have you gotten to where you are at this point in your life? Assuming that your own situation is good, and not lost in the mire of evil, we have to ask, “Did you do it with your own powers? Did it all depend on you alone? How about those times when God truly lifted you up and helped you to break through your own natural limitations to say or do or think something that you never would have dreamed you could say or do or think?”

In this passage, Benedict is consoling the monk who, having come to terms with what God is expecting of one who would be able to dwell with him “in his tent,” is tempted to turn away, knowing full well that what is asked of him is going to demand that he triumph over his own state in life, his natural tendencies, his weaknesses, his sinfulness, his resistance, his hesitation.

Think of the story of the young rich man who asked the Lord what he needed to do and the Lord told him to sell all his possessions and give to the poor and then come and follow him. Do you remember that the young man “turned away sadly” because he didn’t think himself capable of doing what the Lord asked of him? His richness, and his clinging to it, was a barrier that he didn’t think himself capable of surmounting. And he was right. By himself, he could not make the leap into a new life, and he didn’t seem to realize that he wouldn’t have to do it on his own. And so he turned away. (Matthew 19:16-22)  I guess he didn’t know the psalms well enough. Psalm 18:

You, O Lord, are my lamp,

my God who lightens my darkness.

With you I can break through any barrier,

with my God I can scale any wall. (Psalm 18:29-30)

(I love it when we pray those verses at Morning Prayer!)

What makes you or me turn away from what God is asking us? Why do we hesitate? What do we resist? If we could only realize that at all times God’s love and grace are within us and that we can turn within to claim the power he gives to us, a power that we don’t necessarily deserve! Never forget that: Grace is not something you earn: it is a freely given gift from God.

We forget this so easily, my friends. We simply forget. We try to do too much on our own.

Stop it. Claim the grace that is there for you, especially during any moment of challenge or trial. What is not yours by nature, let God help you with his grace.

God bless you!

Purify your prayer

Aldous Huxley once said, “The more there is of self, the less there is of God.” (from The Perennial Philosophy (1945) * but I don’t remember where)

Saint Augustine wrote in his Confessions, “You were with me, but I was not with you.” (10.38)

SO: When we pray, can we lay aside all earthly cares and simply be with God? It is difficult, to be sure,  since there are so many cares of the day, and there are so many people who have asked for our prayers and who need our prayers. And these cares and needs can distract us, and even though we are in a posture of prayer, our minds are still spinning. When I try to pray for Aunt Lucy, I start thinking about her and the trouble she is in, or I think of my brother-in-law’s cancer, or my mind keeps running a tape recorder the replays over and over the dispute I had at work just a few hours ago. But I don’t think I need to go on: I’ll be you know exactly what I mean and that these things happen to you as well.

Is there any solution or remedy to this? I believe there is. And I’ll bet you known where I’m heading, especially if you’ve been reading these Reflections regularly. My answer: meditation or contemplative prayer.

When we meditate, we begin to separate ourselves from the cares of the day and from earthly matters. We let the thoughts which come to our mind simply pass through our minds without engaging us. We seek a pure experience, a time of being alone with God, being in touch with God who always is within us. We let go of everything else.

A couple of personal observations

·         I find it helpful to use a mantra. It can be the Jesus Prayer, or simply a single word that I keep saying in my mind. I often start with the Jesus Prayer (Lord Jesus Christ, son of the living God, have mercy on me a sinner) and then when I’m more settled, I reduce it to just two words: Jesus on the inhalation, mercy on the exhalation.

·         I find that when I get away from my mind’s chatter and spend time in pure contemplative prayer, the situations I didn’t think about start transforming without my rattling on about them. God know the situation. God will take care of it, because he always supplies what I need.

·         I don’t do any intercessory prayer at the time of contemplation. I save that for after my period of contemplation (usually 20 minutes) comes to an end. By doing this, I find that I can pray for Aunt Lucy without thinking about Aunt Lucy’s situation.

·         I never ask or tell God what to do. I hold the person in my heart (where the Spirit resides) and leave it at that. God will deal with things in his way, which is always so much better than my way.

I hope this gives you some ideas about your own prayer.

God bless you.

* The Wikipedia article about The Perennial Philosophy gives an excellent description of what it means, and also outlines Huxley’s book of the same name. It’s worth looking up if you have a few minutes to devote to it.

Muhammad on forgiveness

There are certain religious teachings that are common to most, if not all, spiritual traditions. An example: God is love. If you search the various traditions you’ll find the same teaching expressed in different ways. The name given for these teachings is perennial wisdom and there are several books available that offer texts and thoughts that are part of this perennial wisdom. One has to be careful, though, because the authors or editors of such books often have a decidedly bias against organized religion. An example: a book I’m reading is entitled Perennial Wisdom for the Spiritually Independent. ('Independent of what?' I have to ask.) As I read the book, which includes many quotations from the Old and New Testaments, I find things that help reinforce my own faith or help my prayer and meditation, and I simply leave the rest behind. (Which is the same thing you should be doing with these reflections: take what touches you and leave the rest.)

Anyway, I found a passage from the writings of Muhammed that touched me so deeply I’ve decided to share it with you. Notice, if you will, that we’ve already spoken about what it has to say, but the passage says it so beautifully that it has been an inspiration to me and perhaps to you as well. Here it is:

“O humans, so long as you call upon Me and ask of Me,

     I shall forgive you for what you have done,

         and I shall not mind.

O humans, were your sins to reach the clouds of the sky

     and were you then to ask forgiveness of Me,

         I would forgive you.

O humans, were you to come to Me

     with sins nearly as great as the earth,

     and were you then to face Me,

       I would bring you forgiveness nearly as great.”

from Sayings of the Prophet Muhammad, quoted in Perennial Wisdom, p. 143

The Refiner's Fire

The first reading for the Mass on this Feast of the Presentation is from the prophet Malachi. “There will come to the temple the Lord whom you seek,” he prophesizes, “but who will endure the day of his coming.” Why does he say this? Because the Lord comes to bring purification. And purification is often difficult to endure, as you probably know well. Listen to the prophet:

. . . he is like refiner’s fire, or like the fuller’s lye. He will sit refining and purifying silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi, refining them like gold or like silver that they may offer due sacrifice to the Lord.”

And so the purification is coming like fire and lye. But always remember this: we are being purified because in the eyes of God, we are silver and gold. Silver and gold: we are not wretches, or worthless junk thrown on top of a heap of refuse. To God, we are worth saving—so much so that he will live a human life with us and embrace more suffering than we can ever know—for us. And it is there that we find our worth.

Nonetheless, purification is painful. Consider this, if you will: When I need to ask for forgiveness that means that I know I have sinned. And when I know I have sinned, that means that I also know what is the right way, the way I have chosen not to go. When I know the right way and I know that I have not lived up to it, I am humbled and contrite. This is purification. About this, Rabbi Rami Shapiro writes “being humbled, the lesser self is engulfed in the greater Self the way the light of a single candle is engulfed by the light of the sun.” (Perennial Wisdom, © 2013, p. 142)

And so, the Feast of the Presentation is not a gloomy event. It is filled with life and light and joy, and the prophetess Anna “gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem.”

This Feast holds special meaning for me, because it was during the celebration of the Mass at Saint Anselm Abbey in 1983 that I at last made a definite decision that I was going to hopefully become a monk of Saint Anselm Abbey. It is a decision that I have never regretted, even during times of fire and lye and purification. Thanks be to God! And may He bless you richly on this day. 

A "Love Prayer"

Yesterday we considered the “love passage” from 1 Corinthians 13 which was read at Sunday Mass. I’d like to revisit that passage again and make it into a prayer which might be used by anyone seeking growth and gradual evolution towards becoming a truly loving person. For what it is worth, here goes:

                Lord God, grant me the grace to become more patient, kinder, less jealous but able to rejoice in the good things that others have. Help me to be humble: less pompous, less inflated. Forgive and correct my rudeness by making me more sensitive to others’ feelings. Help me to put others’ needs before me own and to curb my selfishness in all things. Give me a calm and accepting spirit, not prone to fits of temper.

I have been hurt many times, and carry resentments in my heart: heal these and help me to let go of what has happened, to forgive where necessary and to take my attention away from the past and into the present moment. Make me sensitive to the wrongdoing around me and give me the desire to pray for those who are lost in a web of sin. Help me to rejoice always with what is true, especially when it challenges me to change my way of thinking or acting. Help me to bear whatever may develop in my life, strengthen my faith, and my hope, and help me to bear nobly the crosses that are part of my life. I ask these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.