Lent Week 5: The Heart of Prayer ❤️🙏

“He (Jesus) also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt: ‘Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax-collector. The Pharisee, standing by himself, was praying thus, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax-collector. I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income.” But the tax-collector, standing far off, would not even look up to heaven, but was beating his breast and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other; for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.’” (Luke 18:9-14)

We’ve all read Jesus’s parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector in Luke 18, but we want you to read it this time from the perspective that you are the Pharisee. Now read it again with the perspective that you are the tax collector.

How did each perspective about prayer make you feel? What was going through your mind as you read from their viewpoint?

The 2nd Pillar of Lent we’re talking about is prayer. Why is prayer the easiest thing for some people to do and the hardest thing for others? Some people pray with a flow like it’s first nature to them and other have more “ums” and “uhs” than they have actual words in them. But you know what? The Father loves them all, whether eloquent or inarticulate. As you go through this 5th week of Lent, remember that any sincere prayer uttered from a soft heart is much better than a hardened heart that speaks none at all.

Emily wrote about different prayers that can are common during Lent and gives resources in this article.

What are your prayers like right now? Are they self-focused or focused on others? Maybe you could start a prayer journal to write out daily gratitudes to the Lord. Maybe you could keep a journal of prayer requests for yourself and others. Or maybe you could do both if you’re feeling ambitious, but start somewhere and let the Lord lead you in growing your prayer time with Him. He loves to be in communion with us.

May whatever you have planned to pray for or about be a holy and pleasing offering to the Lord. May He fill you with strength and his protection as you grow closer to Him.

Lent Week 2: Live Life Boldly

Bible Verse from 1 Peter 5:10 that says, “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”

We are a week into Lent, and we hope it’s been a meaningful time that has already begun to reveal Christ’s goodness and mercy in your life while you dedicate time to Him.

The following tribute, titled “A Life Lived Boldly”, was written by Emily’s friend Fr. Philip Humbert Kilanowski, O.P. We thank him for his willingness to share such a beautiful reflection of Emily’s life through his eyes in light of the Lent that is upon us. We hope that as you read, you’ll consider your own life and ask the Lord how you can deny yourself the tendency to make excuses while feeling self-pity for misfortunes and instead turn your difficulties into praise. Live life boldly!

---

She was born on Good Friday.  And it was snowing.  How’s that for an entrance?

Emily always lived her life close to the Cross—as if she was chosen for it.  Her sufferings read like a litany: periodic seizures as a young child, cystic fibrosis from age 11, multiple cases of tuberculosis, a rare virus that put her in a coma for two weeks during college, 16 bouts with pancreatitis, diabetes, a heart condition that required surgery—and I haven’t even mentioned the double lung transplant that, no doubt, extended her life, but also left her with permanent hearing loss and a scar the length of her right forearm.

And yet, once you met her, you never would have known that she suffered through any of this.  She never let any of this get the best of her, and remained as joyful and feisty as ever.  She could hold a conversation using just movie quotes and show tune lyrics.  She would fiercely debate all comers not only in religion or politics, but over who was the greatest hockey player of all time, or what constitutes an authentic Italian restaurant.  She would even casually downplay any trip to the emergency room, and called any overnight stay in the hospital a trip to “the Resort.”

So you may wonder, what made all of this possible?  How could she keep so cheerful and lively, and live her life so boldly, in the face of such great suffering?

Grace. Only the grace of God, the grace that comes to us through the Cross of Jesus Christ, by which we are saved, could enable Emily to have carried all her crosses with joy.  This grace is the free gift of God most high, and through the lens of grace, Emily could see that every day of her existence, as weak and fragile as it was, truly was a gift to be cherished and used well, because God Himself, in the Person of His Son, took on all the weakness and fragility of our human condition to save us from our sins and from death itself, coming into the world that we “may have life, and have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).

And Emily certainly lived the life that she had to the fullest, never letting any setback keep her down.  So her weakened hearing prevented her from a singing career?  She lived out her passion for musical theater with a long string of chorus roles in community theater productions.  So she had to quit her job in the state government after missing too many days of work?  She retired early and started a second career as a free-lance writer.  So she wasn’t able to give her life to God in a monastery of cloistered Dominican nuns?  She joined the Dominican Third Order and lived as an exemplary lay member of the Order of Preachers: teaching the basics of the Catholic faith in the classroom, in her writing, and in conversations with her Protestant friends; preaching the truth of God’s grace with her witness on social media, at conferences, and on Jeopardy!; and making known the gift of God in the only book she published in her lifetime: an autobiography arranged, not in chronological order like most memoirs, not in dramatic order like a Christopher Nolan movie, but according to the Stations of the Cross—as only she could.  And so what if she was never married, and was unable to bear any children—something with which she struggled her entire life?  She showed her love and her intense loyalty to her family, to her godchildren, and to her friends—of whom I am blessed to call myself one.

And I remain forever indebted to her for driving me 100 miles to the Dominican novitiate in Cincinnati to begin my religious life and my path toward the priesthood, at a time when I could not trust anyone in my family to bring me there.  (We got a lot better!)  Emily herself was discerning a vocation to religious life at the same time, and we listened to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in the car on the way there to celebrate this new beginning.  My novice master, upon seeing her, proclaimed, “You had a woman bring you here?  That’s bold!”

We have remained good friends for nearly fourteen years, even if I had to miss her final promises as a Lay Dominican because I was the godfather at my oldest niece’s baptism, and she had to miss my ordination because she was a bridesmaid at her brother’s wedding.  Her prayers have certainly sustained me throughout my time as a Dominican friar, even as I bore my share of the Cross, and even as I administered the Sacraments to her—and no doubt they will continue, for as both St. Dominic and St. Thérèse of Lisieux have said before her, she will spend her Heaven doing good on Earth.

For one who, as the Psalmist said, was “wretched, close to death from [her] youth” (Ps. 88:16), Emily always sought “the things that are above” (Col. 3:1) and overcame the wretchedness of her condition with anticipation of the joy of eternal life.  She could tell that her time in this life was short, even more so lately.  She made her only overseas trip to one of her ancestral lands, Scotland, just this fall, and wrote a brilliant article on her experience with not only her transplant, but also with how God’s providence has worked in her life, this past year, that reads now like a last will and testament.  Even as she checked into the Resort one last time in the closing days of Advent, she faced it with her signature sense of humor.

And so the woman whom I once described as “a radiant soul trapped in a body held together with duct tape,” who was born on Good Friday, ended up dying at Christmas—but she had to wait until the seventh day, because that’s when it finally snowed.  How’s that for an exit?  Emily met her Maker on the same day on which the Church sings the Te Deum in thanksgiving to God for His benefits at the end of one period of time, and on which the orchestra in Tokyo always plays Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony to celebrate the end of the year and mark a new beginning.

And even in death, Emily carries out her vocation as a Lay Dominican, preaching and teaching the Truth who is Jesus Christ for the salvation of souls.  So what can we learn from her, especially now in this season of Lent?  What has she taught us?

First, do not be afraid of the Cross.  The world often says that all suffering is to be avoided, and that a life full of suffering is not worth living at all, but Emily has proven otherwise with the way that she lived her life and shown how God can work great good even through suffering, just as He wrought our salvation through the suffering and death of His Son.  Following her example, we too can offer the pain and misfortune of this world along with the sacrifice of Christ on the Cross, for as the Lenten hymn says, “For only those who bear the Cross can hope to wear the glorious crown.”

Second, acknowledge your limitations—and then live your fullest life within them.  So often we hear of people trying to ignore their limits, or trying to be someone that they’re not, but while each of us is limited by our own bodies and minds, and our human nature, it is this same shared human nature that gives us our dignity and our capacity for the infinite God.  Emily demonstrated this with her ability to bounce back from setbacks and find a home, a place in the Church, and a task that she carried out with her writing to build up the Kingdom of God—and to enjoy life along the way.  We also can find how God would like to use the gifts that He has given each of us for the common good, and in doing so to live the most fulfilling life we can, by following the words of St. Catherine of Siena: “Be who you are, and you will set the world on fire!”

Third, and last, while many say to “live each day of your life as if it’s your last,” that kind of saying can often be twisted to encourage unreasonable pleasure-seeking.  Emily would rather say, “Live each day as it it’s the beginning of eternal life.”  For while she was born on Good Friday, she celebrated her last birthday on Easter Sunday, the first and only time in her lifetime that the dates coincided, as if it had to be that way.  She acknowledged all of her life after the transplant as borrowed time, and even compared the event to the Resurrection in her writing, but still acknowledged it as only a shadow of the glory to come, a glory into which, we pray (and for which I have seen signs), she has entered.  But we already have “a pledge of future glory,” in the words of St. Thomas Aquinas, here on Earth: with the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, to which Emily was so devoted, and as God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit dwell within our souls by the grace of Baptism and the other Sacraments.  Truly, eternal life begins here and now, and Emily reflected that truth by radiating the light of Christ from within her.  We can do the same, showing the life of God to those we meet in this world, while keeping in mind that we are meant for a life after death, which is the only way that our lives can be fulfilled.  For in her own words, Emily tells us, “Remember you will die—and then get to living.”

So as we learn from Emily, and as we miss her, let us also pray for her—or if we are so bold, pray to her—that we all may be reunited by the grace of Jesus Christ, who, as we sing in the Te Deum, “overcame the sting of death, and opened the Kingdom of Heaven to all believers.”

Fr. Humbert Kilanowski, O.P. is a Dominican friar and priest who teaches mathematics at Providence College in Rhode Island.  He hails from Columbus and met Emily at a Lay Dominican meeting at St. Patrick's Church, the friars' parish in town, in Lent of 2010, and joined the Order that following summer.

Illness & Piety

The second station: Jesus Carries His Cross

A lot of dioceses are dispensing their Catholics from attending Mass; some are shutting their churches completely. It’s a strange time to be Catholic in America—what do we do without Mass?

We know that we are required to attend Mass unless we are sick, find ourselves really far from Mass, or for other big reasons (you’ve got a sick kid and you have to stay home to take care of her). Not attending Mass is a mortal sin, but, like all mortal sins, that means there are three criteria for it: Grave matter, full knowledge, and deliberate consent.

If you live in a diocese where the bishop has dispensed you from attending Mass, you’re not committing a mortal sin if you don’t go. We don’t know a lot about this virus. What we do know is that a person can have zero symptoms and be contagious! That’s scary.

Even before the dispensation came down from Ohio’s Catholic bishops, my transplant team had told me that they didn’t want me going to Mass. Was I super pleased with this idea? No. Am I listening to them? yes.

To me, this is very like life right after my transplant. I didn’t attend Mass for three months, because I was severely compromised. To go would not have been a good thing. (And also, it was an uncomfortable thing. Most Catholic churches have wooden pews. When you weigh 90 pounds, your bones really feel that wood, let me tell ya.)

I am being obedient to my doctors, and not going. My health is important and I know they want what is best for us.

I’ve seen some people talking about how our physical health isn’t more important than our spiritual health. This is true—but, that doesn’t mean that we should be reckless. There are saints who were told not to do so many penances, that they were being too hard on their bodies. It’s a balance.

I am NOT suggesting that we skip Mass just for the fun of it. I am saying that at this time it’s important to think about other people at Mass. (And really, all the time…)

People like me aren’t going. But that doesn’t mean that there won’t be people at Mass who take care of immunocompromised people, or work with them. If they get sick, that’s a big problem. So let’s remember basic good practices.

If you’re sick, don’t shake hands at the sign of peace! Use hand sanitizer. Cover your cough. Leave some space between yourself and other parishioners, so you don’t run the risk of getting them sick. If you have the flu, stay home!

The criteria I use to determine how sick I am is thus: If I would miss work, then it’s fine for me to stay home. If someone said, let’s go to Chuy’s, and I wouldn’t go because I feel awful, then I’m sick enough to not go to Mass.

I can see why some bishops are closing churches—because people aren’t doing what is right and prudent. They’re going to Mass and spreading germs everywhere, in flu season, all the time. This is not cool, folks. Use the best practices I outlined above all the time, not just now!

Also, Masses still happen with out a congregation. Carthusian monks, for example, say Mass everyday without a congregation. I imagine that priests will still say Mass, even if the church is empty.

So, what can you do if your dioceses has shut your churches, or if you are staying home from Mass?

• We can make a spiritual communion. This is important!

• We can read the Mass readings (Magnificat is offering its app for free right now—daily Mass readings and devotional readings every day!)

• We can pray the rosary, or parts of the Liturgy of the Hours.

• We can perform spiritual reading.

In this time, you might want to check on your neighbors who are sick or older, and see if you can do anything for them to help them out. Maybe you could pick up their groceries for them or something, or put gas in their car.

Just because we can’t get to Mass doesn’t mean that we can’t still practice our faith. Yes, the Mass is the source and summit of our lives. Yes, it’s vital.

But sometimes life intervenes and we can’t worship the way we’d like to. I’ve experienced that a lot in my life.

St. Teresa of Avila once received instructions from God to build her convent somewhere. Her bishop then told her to build her convent somewhere else. Teresa obeyed the bishop, because she knew she owed obedience to him. She said later, when God asked her about this, that she knew her bishop was telling her what to do and she owed him obedience; she might have imagined what God told her to do. (This story was in the book Be Holy. I’m paraphrasing here.)

Keep calm, guys, and carry on—and PRAY. Don’t rage against your bishop and take offense. Pray. If you can go to Mass, weigh if it’s prudent for you and your family. If you go, act responsibly—don’t crowd pews, cover your cough, don’t shake hands at the sign of peace, etc.

The important thing is to pray, even if you can’t get to Mass.

A Day in the Life of a Lay Dominican

St. Dominic (detail) from Fra Angelico’s The Mocking of Christ with the Virgin and St. Dominic.

Lots of people, when they hear I’m a Lay Dominican, want to know what that means—and I realized I’d never written a blog post about it! So I’m way overdue to write one about what this vocation actually means. :)

(It’s going to be sort of long. Sorry. But thorough!)

When St. Dominic founded the Order of Preachers (that’s what Dominicans are also called—and it's abbreviated OP, so if you ever wanted to know what that means, now you know!)

The “First order” is the friars and brothers—they are priests, or “cooperator brothers”.

The “second order” is the cloistered nuns, who live in monasteries. Yes. Monasteries for nuns.

The “third order” is the laity and the sisters (the sisters live in convents. Nuns are cloistered, which means they don’t go out of their monastery without a good reason and permission. Sisters aren’t enclosed.). Dominican sisters in the U.S. are involved in many ministries.

Now, third order laity members don’t look different than anyone else. We don’t wear a habit or any sort of insignia regularly. (Alas!) We can wear a medal of St. Dominic or another Dominican saint if we want, or a pin that has the shield of the order. But we don’t look any different than anyone else.

We make promises, not vows. They’re not binding under pain of sin, but we do take them seriously.

A “day in the life” of a lay Dominican actually depends on the person! It can look radically different for everyone. The rule of life for Dominicans is very flexible and allows for a lot of adaptation, which is one of its strengths.

However, in that day, the four pillars of Dominican life are probably represented. These are:

• Prayer

• Study

• Community

• Apostolate

El Greco, St. Dominic In Prayer

Prayer is—well, prayer. A lay Dominican prays lauds and vespers from the liturgy of the hours and says a daily rosary. She attends Mass as often as she can, and attends confession frequently. A yearly retreat is a good idea. You’re taught how to pray the liturgy of the hours in your chapter meetings (at least I was), and you can use either the books of the breviary, or an app—whatever works better for you.

Since Our Lady gave the rosary to St. Dominic, of course we are devoted to it! :) We try to say one set of mysteries—five decades—a day. If you can do more, great!

Bernardo Cavallino, St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

So, how does that look in my day?

I say lauds, generally, right when I get up. I go downstairs, start the coffee, and start lauds. When I was working I said lauds at my desk before the workday began.

I say vespers around 5:00—if I’m going out to eat, or have evening activities, it’ll be later, whenever I get home. The rosary I try to say right after vespers, but if that’s not possible, then I say it before I go to bed. My love of the rosary was an early sign of a Dominican vocation. It’s long been my favorite way to pray!

Study

Statue of St. Dominic on the motherhouse campus of the Dominican Sister of St. Cecilia, Nashville, TN.


In the above statue, you see St. Dominic holding a book. Study is key to the life of all Dominicans—St. Dominic wanted his family to preach the faith fearlessly. But to do that, they had to know the faith! That meant study. Even today you will find many friars assigned to universities around the world, where they interact with students and teach theology classes. Preaching is at the heart of the Dominican life—the holy preaching of the truth (“Veritas”) of Christ.

St. Albert the Great, a Dominican, gave us the scientific method. The “angelic doctor” of the Church, one of its mightiest theologians, is St. Thomas Aquinas, also a Dominican. But that doesn’t mean that you have to be a genius to be a Dominican. Blessed Margaret of Costello was blind and abandoned by her parents.

What you have to have is a love of study and sacred truth. This can mean daily bible reading, reading spiritual works, taking theology classes—whatever suits your interest. Sometimes chapters will study something together. But to be a Dominican, you have to love to read.

How do I do this? I’m generally always reading at least one spiritual book. I’m working on building the habit of daily bible reading (lectio divina). I love to read spiritual books and look forward to talking about them with my friends or writing about them here. You don’t have to read St. Thomas’ Summa. You can read “popular” theologians, like Scott Hahn or Bishop Barron’s writings. If you want, you can read the Summa! You can dive as deeply as you want. But you should always be learning more about the faith.

Community


Community doesn’t really always play a part in daily life—there are monthly/regular chapter meetings (every chapter varies, I think most meet once a month), but in daily life, there’s not a whole lot of contact. Certainly I have Dominican friends, including the friars that I personally know, but this isn’t an area where I have consistent daily contact. Some people probably do. For the friars, sisters, and nuns, of course, community is daily; it’s how they live.

Apostolate

Fra Angelico, Coronation of the Virgin (Fra Angelico was a Dominican friar, by the way!)

Apostolate is “contemplating and sharing the fruits of contemplation”—a twist on St. Thomas’s saying (one of the mottoes of the order: “to contemplate and share with others the fruit of our contemplation.”) My blog is one of my apostolates; I write about the things I discover in prayer and study. The Catholic 101 series and the resulting book are fruits of my study, prayer, and Dominican vocation!

Some Dominicans I know are hospital chaplains; others are CCD teachers, work in homeless shelters, or make rosaries. There are as many apostolates as there are Dominicans. Mine tends to be more on the writing end, so it’s pretty daily for me. I write blog posts, or essays for Take Up & Read, or work on manuscripts that have to do with Christ and the Church. That’s my apostolate.

To sum up: A Day in the Life of a Lay Dominican is drastically different for every one of us, but it’s always rooted in prayer and study, finds support in community, and brings forth fruit in the apostolate of each member.

Here are links to the Lay Dominican provinces in the U.S.

Eastern (that’s me)

Central

South

West

Do you have any questions? Send them to me in the comments!

#20 St. Therese chapel (retreat notes II)

I’ve been making retreats since….gosh. 2009, maybe? 2008? One of those two. So that’s 10 years of silent retreats, which is sort of amazing when I think about.

I always go on silent retreats. I find that’s the best way to really listen to God, for me, and I sort of crave that silence. This retreat I went into with out “resolutions” (as Msgr. Knox calls them), but just with the desire to fill my cup, so to speak, with God, His presence, His voice, and His quiet.

The chapel is really well suited to these things.

It’s a gorgeous stone chapel, built in the 40s, I think. The floor has the patina of age. It’s always cool in there, and quiet. The decades of prayer are obvious. The art is gorgeous, too, and leads you to contemplation pretty easily, and prayer.

There is a small side chapel, which holds the reliquary (we’ll talk about that in a later post), and has a painting of the Annunciation on the wall. It’s a supremely comfortable spot, because there’s a nice big chair in there, so you can sit and look at the tabernacle and pray, hidden and secluded. That’s where I had one of my holy hours this time, and it really was delightful.

This retreat was different in that there were only three conferences (talks on the retreat theme, which was Mary), so there was ample time for silence and doing your own thing. Usually I also spend time in my room, but since it was so hot, I spent all of my time in the chapel or the lounge. I had brought extra books to read since I knew I’d have spare time (only spiritual books, and my Bible; I don’t bring Outlander on retreat with me.). So a lot of reading, and then note taking, pondering in my journal, Bible reading (lectio), and prayer. It was great.

The chapel spire from the garden

Also, don’t forget: Our new Take Up & Read Study starts on Sunday, all about the book of Romans! Please join us! You can purchase your copy here.

The source of life

Adoration is an immense force of reparation; by it you will obtain healing for the sick, peace for the tormented, light for those plunged into darkness, and joy for those crushed by sorrows.

It is not by preaching, nor by teaching, nor by any outward works that you will do good to souls, but only by the humility of a hidden life of adoration and reparation. To others I have given other gifts and I am glorified in their works, but from you I ask only this: that you become hidden even as I am hidden in the Host, and that you become a victim of adoration and reparation with Me. This is the great work of Eucharistic Love that, at every moment, is Mine in all the tabernacles of the world.

(From In Sinu Jesu; read the rest of the excerpt here) 

Lately, when there's been a tragedy, people have derided the idea of "thoughts and prayers." They don't change anything, they're useless, prayers don't change things, action does!

They're so wrong. 

Prayer changes thing. But the problem is, we need to become fervent in prayer. Our relationship with God needs to take first place. If we really devoted ourselves to prayer, to Christian living, our world would change. Full stop. 

As Catholics, we have some pretty powerful weapons in our arsenal. The Mass. The rosary. The sacraments. 

And we have another: Eucharistic Adoration. 

Catholics believe that the Eucharist is the body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus Christ, here on Earth. We can be in the presence of Jesus--His actual presence!--every single day. We can receive Him every single day, by going to Mass. But I know that Mass schedules aren't often amenable for people who have jobs. 

But we can also go to him in prayer before the tabernacle or the monstrance. 

Holy Hours--or even holy half hours, holy fifteen minutes--is truly sacred time. Spending time in the very presence of Jesus is such a gift, and one that is so overlooked! So often churches are locked, and we can't visit Him. But many churches today are bringing back periods of adoration, or even perpetual adoration chapels, where Jesus is always available for us!

When we come before Him in this way, we are pouring out our time. We are giving it back to Him, and nothing can be a better way to spend our time. We worry about all that we have to do--but if we give time to God, He gives it back to us. Trust me on this. (Or, if you don't trust me, trust Mother Teresa--she said that her sisters had the time to do everything they did because they prayed so much during the day.)

If we're serious about change--then we need to come back to Jesus in His Eucharistic form. He is here among us, and so often we forget Him. 

You don't need to start by doing it every day. Maybe try it once a month. Maybe come to Mass 15 minutes early to spend time in prayer before Him. Then once you're into that pattern, try coming 30 minutes early. Build slowly. But I will say that my best prayer time has always been before Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. 

You don't have to "do" anything. There's the famous story about St. Jean Vianney and the parishioner who came to the church every day, and just sat there; he told the saint that he looked at Jesus, and Jesus looked at him. You can say the rosary. You can read the bible, or a spiritual book. You can just talk to Jesus (because that's all prayer is, talking to God). He knows what you need, but tell Him! Pour it out before Him. Sometimes you can't even do that. Then just sit with him. 

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton said: "How sweet the presence of Jesus to the longing, harassed soul! It is instant peace, and balm to every wound." And it is. 

The practice of adoration is not difficult. It is a gentle abiding in My presence, a resting in the radiance of My Eucharistic Face, a closeness to My Eucharistic Heart. Words, though sometimes helpful, are not necessary, nor are thoughts. What I seek from one who would adore Me in spirit and in truth is a heart aflame with love, a heart content to abide in My presence, silent and still, engaged only in the act of loving Me and of receiving My love. Though this is not difficult, it is, all the same, My own gift to the soul who asks for it. Ask, then, for the gift of adoration.

--In Sinu Jesu

Eucharistic Adoration is truly powerful. Please, try to work it into your schedule, either by coming to Mass a little earlier, stopping by a chapel on your way to or from work, or trying a holy hour once a month at a local parish with an adoration chapel. 

Prayer isn't magic. But prayer works. Let's rev up our prayer lives, starting with a return to Eucharistic Adoration. 

Lectio di-wha?

It's no secret that I love to read. I've loved it ever since my mom first read to me as a toddler; I was the kid who snuck books under her desk in school, and read while I should've been getting ready for Mass, or when I should've been sleeping. Books are life. 

So you'd think that the practice of lectio divina, "holy reading", would be the easiest type of prayer for me to practice. 

You'd be so, so wrong. 

I am terrible at lectio. 

Before I tell you why I'm terrible at it, I should probably explain what it is. As I noted, it means "holy reading." It's a way of praying using the Scriptures. Essentially, you read (lectio); you meditate on what you read (meditatio); you pray about what you read (oratio), and then you figure out how to put all that into action (actio). It doesn't sound hard, right? 

Except for me it is. 

First, there's the reading. What the heck am I supposed to read? The Mass readings? Go through the Bible chronologically, only to falter when I get to Leviticus and Numbers and lists of names and other rosters? Start with Matthew and work through the New Testament and then maybe try the old? 

And what if I read and nothing comes to me? I read, and read, and read....nope, God, sorry, nothing's hitting me. That's actually my biggest problem with lectio. I read. And I read. And nothing hits me. There's no inspiration. How am I supposed to pray with that? 

In Advent, I had a pretty big breakthrough. The Advent journal, Rooted in Hope, was a real, hard core introduction to lectio, and it helped me immensely.  

First--because there are readings given. There was a featured verse, and a few others. I didn't have to worry about what to read. 

Second--the steps were all broken down, and easy for me to see, to ponder, to do. 

At first, I had to re-read the passages a few times. I picked a word, an idea, that spoke to me. But some days it was harder than others. That's OK. I just kept doing it. 

Lectio also requires a bit of background--and this is hard, too. In the first step, you're supposed to do some analysis: what is actually happening in the passage? Is Jesus talking to somebody? Who is Paul writing to, and why? Who is speaking in this excerpt from 1 Kings? That's where a good Bible dictionary, or study bible, is so important (resources at the end of this post). Because this is a big key--knowing what's happening in what you're reading. 

Here's an example: The familiar reading from weddings, 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient. Love is kind. Yada yada. We've all heard that a million times. But if you know that Paul wrote that to the Corinthians because they were fighting among each other, because there was disunity, and arguing, and strife, and confusion--doesn't it take on a whole different tone? I know it did to me. All of a sudden, Paul's letter is real. It speaks to me in the twenty-first century. Aren't we all in strife, all the time? Aren't we fighting amongst each other? Paul wasn't just writing some nice platitudes. He was giving solid advice to people in the midst of bickering and in-fighting. 

So, keeping with this example: You would read 1 Corinthians 13. You'd do the lectio on it--you'd say, oh, OK, Paul is writing to these people, who are fighting amongst themselves. Then, the meditation. How does this apply to me? Who am I fighting with? Can I apply these concepts there? Who needs more love from me? Where am I not being loving? 

Then, oratio, prayer. Talk to God about what you're thinking. Ask Him to help you apply this to your daily life (actio, the application, the action). "God, I know I need to be more patient with XYZ. It's hard for me. But I know that's what you want. I know that living that way will be a true expression of the Christian life I'm trying to lead. So when I want to swear or yell at this person, help me to be kind. Help me to be patient. I won't be perfect--but with Your help, I will try. I will make progress." 

The actio is in the prayer, right there. You are going to be nicer to XYZ--you won't snap at her, you'll keep your patience, whatever. 

You see how that works? To me, the key is the lectio. It's knowing what the text is really saying, what its implications are. 

As you know, I'm a part of the Take Up and Read team, and we've published our Lent study/devotional, Above All. (In the photo at the top) Every day, you'll get lectio passages--and notes. I did the notes, and it wasn't just to help readers, it helped me! I learned so much as I researched these books of the Bible! It's a beautiful companion for your Lent, and I'm so proud of it. It starts on Ash Wednesday (February 14!) and goes all the way to Easter. There are pages for journaling, an examination of conscience, essays, and more. And the profits will go Adore Ministries in Houston to support ongoing hurricane relief efforts! 

If you haven't gotten your copy yet, you can get it here. If you have any questions about it, or about lectio in general, let me know! I'm not an expert, but we can figure it out together. 

Lectio resources: 

Catholic Bible Dictionary

Ignatius Study Bible (NT)

Didache Bible

Catholics do read the Bible! And this is how we do it--with lectio. 

Sharing Contemplation No. 1

One of the mottos of the Dominican order is, "to contemplate, and to share the fruits of contemplation." It's one of the ways we evangelize. So every so often, I'll be sharing the fruit of my contemplation with you. 

On my phone case is a Bible verse. I know, that's kind of weird, right? And it's not even a popular Bible verse. In fact, it's one whose meaning changes a little bit based on the translation. But this verse has played a big role in my life. 

May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

Romans 15:13 (NIV)

In the Revised Standard Catholic version, "trust" is changed to "believe." And to me, that doesn't pack the same punch. I've always believed in God. I haven't always really trusted in God. 

There's a difference there. 

Believing in God means I know that He exists. My faith is built on that. But trusting in Him means that I believe He's going to take care of me, to do what's best for me, all the time. That He won't let me fall. And that's harder to me than just believing in Him.

Right after I left my job a few years ago, I went on a silent retreat. It was the end of Lent, and it had been a hard Lent. I knew, intellectually, that leaving my job was the right decision. I felt that God had led me to make that decision. But I wasn't at peace with it. I didn't really trust Him not to let me fall. 

At every meal, Scripture passages, written on small cards, were at each plate. I always sit at the same spot when I go on retreat. (I'm like Sheldon that way.) On Saturday at lunch, the card at my plate had this verse from Romans. And it stopped me in my tracks. Relief washed over me. 

Emily, I'm going to take care of this. Trust me to take care of it. 

It's hard. I still have to remind myself that God's got this, over and over again. Like Ann Voskamp says in One Thousand Gifts, "trust the bridge builder." If I trust my earthly father, shouldn't I also trust my heavenly Father, if not more than I trust my earthly father? (And I trust my parents an awful lot.) 

Today, while doing my Advent study, this verse was one of the ones suggested 'For Further Reading.' And once again, I was hit with God's reminder to trust in Him. To Rest in Him and acknowledge that He provides--often better than I ever could've thought He would. 

This video popped into my mailbox today, too. Coincidence? I think not. 

Is God invited you to trust, too? Step into that trust. Know that He can always always always be counted on. 

Lenten Practices 3: Prayer

Lent is a great time to renew/revamp/reassess our prayer lives, and establish one, if you don’t already have one.

Prayer, as I explain to my first graders, is just talking to God. That’s it. It’s not some big mysterious thing that takes a lot of time. It’s just talking to someone who loves you.

I know a lot of Catholics trot out the “well I go to Mass every week.” At the Catholic Women's Conference I went to two years ago, one of the speakers (Rebecca Dussault) made a good point. She is a former Olympic cross country skier, and compared prayer to talking with her coach and training. If she only met with her coach one hour a week, she wouldn’t get to know her coach, the coach wouldn’t get to know her, and her training wouldn’t be that great. Thus, how can we possibly expect to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength if we don’t talk to Him more than an hour a week?

There are so many different prayer traditions we have as Catholics; it is a rich tradition! As a Domincan, I’m partial to the rosary, of course. One set of mysteries takes me about 15 minutes to say. 15 minutes to say the Rosary is 1% of your day.  If you can’t say five decades, say one, one the way to work, or as you clean the kitchen, or take a shower. Starting slowly is better than not starting at all.

There are many good Catholic prayer books available at any Catholic bookstore or Amazon. But you can also use your own words. Tell God what you need; tell Him what you’re thankful for; tell Him about people you love. The four main types of prayer are: intercessory (praying for someone else), praise, thanksgiving, and petition (asking Him to help you). Any combination of these is great.

If you like structure in your prayer life, try saying the Litrugy of the Hours. A great site for this isdivineoffice.org, where the prayers for the different hours are listed, and all you have to do is pray them! I have the four-volume set of the office, which I prefer, but I also love this website because it’s great on days when I’ve forgotten my breviary at home. (hey, it happens) The office is the daily prayer of the church, which priests are required to say. Monks and nuns chant these prayers as well, around the clock. Sisters and lay people don’t have to say as many “offices” of the Liturgy of the Hours. Usually I try to pray lauds (Morning Prayer), the Office of Reading, Vespers (Evening Prayer) , and Compline (Night Prayer). Morning and Evening prayer are called the “hinges” of the hours, since they sanctify both ends of the day–beginning and end. (I’ll be talking more about this in a separate post, since it’s a big part of my life as a Lay Dominican.)

A great book for beginners is  Prayer Primer, by Fr. Thomas Dubay (or even not beginners–people who just want to read and learn more about prayer). This is followed by Deep Conversion/Deep Prayer. (If you want something that boosts your exiting prayer life, the latter book is a great way to start)

During Lent, you may want to pray the Seven Penitential Psalms.  These are psalms that particularly express the idea of penitence and are particularly a propos during Lent.

Prayer is our intimate time of conversation with God. Sometimes you may wish to try contemplative prayer, or a Holy Hour before the Blessed Sacrament. Sometimes I’ve kept a prayer journal where I write down specific intentions, or insights I’ve gained in prayer.

Whatever you’ve been doing, this Lent, try to add more. By giving things up, like facebook (which I’m doing), there is more time for prayer and spiritual reading. Let’s use those pockets of time to talk to God and deepen our relationship with Him.

"You've Got To Be Kidding!": Being Mad at God

"And you can say to God sometimes, 'you have got to be kidding'...oh, I think you can say anything. You can say, 'I am mad at you, and I am not going to be a good sport about it!' And that's prayer...It's all prayer."

--Anne Lamott

Anne Lamott and I are on opposite ends of the political spectrum, but there are times when she hits the nail squarely on the head, and this is one of those times. 

If you never, ever read another thing I write (though I hope you do), remember this: You can be mad at God. It's OK. He can handle it. 

Is your jaw on the table yet? Do you wonder how I can be a "good Christian" and write what I just wrote? 

Some people are. I've had people say to me that being mad at God is a sin that will send me to Hell. Now, I believe in Hell, and I know a lot of ways to get there, but I don't think honesty is one of those ways. 

I taught my CCD kids a few weeks ago that prayer is talking to God, which is what it is. When you want to have a relationship with someone, eventually, the gloves come off, right? What friendship, marriage, partnership, etc. doesn't have the eventual fight? Eventually, the guy you marry will see you with your makeup off. Eventually, your best friend is going to see you when you're in a not-nice mood. It's part of life. 

God made us the way we are. He wants us to come close to Him, to enter into a real relationship with Him. He loves us so much, that that love created us, and sent His son to die for us. God doesn't want, and doesn't need, us to be happy all the time. 

Should we thank God in all circumstances, like the Bible says? Yes. Absolutely. It drives me crazy when people say "God is so good!" only when the job has been gained, or the house bought, or the kid chosen for the team. God is always good. Ann Voskamp says that God is always good, and we are always loved. And we are. The Bible tells us to give thanks in all circumstances. God is never not good. He can't be--his very nature is Goodness. 

You can do that--and still get irritated at God. "God...this position I'm in right now? It sucks. I'm not real thrilled that I'm here. I don't want to be here. I want something different. But.....you are in control. But right now, I'm sort of pissed at you, and I want you to know that." 

Do bad things happen to good people? Yes. I've also been told that my illnesses, my "issues", are because I didn't have enough faith. That I didn't do enough. I didn't pray enough. That if I just did more, somehow, God was going to change everything. 

Guys. God is not a Cosmic Vending Machine. You don't put in prayers and get a Milky War Bar of Good Answer back. Yes, we have to pray, and we have to believe. But even with all those things--there is still suffering. Jesus, the Most Blameless, Perfect Person Who Will Ever Live, still died on the cross. 

Every time I've been mad at God, it's because I haven't been open to His Will. I would have long, drawn-out sessions of "I do not want to do this. I do not like this plan..." but at the end of all of them, I--and you--opened my hands and said, "OK. The only way I will stay sane through any of this is to commend my spirit to you. Just give it up. Surrender all of this to Your Will, because the only thing that's going to keep me sane in that." Corrie Ten Boom prayed that same prayer--keep me in the center of your will! Don't let me poke around outside it, because that's going to drive me crazy.

You can get mad at God. You can say "God, I do not understand any of this, and it makes me SO MAD!" That's OK! That is valid. That is prayer. 

But the thing that brings you back, and keeps you from going crazy? Knowing that He has a plan. It's His Plan, you don't know it, and you're not in control of it. Open yourself up and say "OK. Your plan is driving me nuts, but I know that without the plan, outside of your plan, I will definitely go nuts. The only way to keep myself in peace and goodness and sanity is to stay with you. You have to take me through this, because I can't." 

What do you think? Can you be angry at God? Is anger legitimate prayer? When have you been angry at God, and how did you work through it--or are you still angry?