“When your heart is anxious, turn to Mary and say, ‘Mary, put my heart at peace.’ When your mind is too busy, look to Mary and pray, ‘Mary, settle down my mind.’ When you want to grow and deepen you life, look to Mary and beg, ‘Mary, just as you helped Jesus grow in wisdom and grace, help me also to advance on the spiritual path which God has laid out for me.'” (Fr. Alfred McBride)
Category: Saints (and sinners)
Our travel companion
We are not alone. In the selection below, Pope Benedict encourages us to recognize that the Lord has given us Mary as our travel companion in life. What a gift. When we are needed to go to places that we are uncomfortable going to, when we are called to do things beyond our confidence, or even beyond our competence, remember she is with us, and where she is, so is her Son.
“Mary’s is an authentic missionary journey. It is a journey that takes her far from home, drives her to the world, to places that are foreign to her daily customs, makes her reach, in a certain sense, the limits of what she could reach. Herein lies, also for us, the secret of our life as men and women and as Christians. As had already happened to Abraham, we are asked to come out of ourselves, of the places of our security, to go to others, to different places and realms. It is the lord who asks this of us: ‘But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses . . . to the end of the earth’ (Acts 1.8).
“And it is always the Lord, who on this journey, places us next to Mary as travel companion and solicitous mother. She gives us security, because she reminds us that her Son Jesus is always with us, according to what he promised: ‘I am with you always, to the close of the age’ (Mt 28.20).”
A Mary word
A “Mary word” for today, Saturday, her day:
All the sins of your life seem to be rising up against you. Don’t give up hope! On the contrary, call your holy mother Mary, with the faith and abandonment of a child. She will bring peace to your soul. ~St. Josemariá Escrivá
You do not suffer in vain
For those of you who are suffering . . . even in this Easter season . . . here is a word from John Paul II:
You have not suffered or do not suffer in vain. Pain matures you in spirit, purifies you in heart, gives you a real sense of the world and of life, enriches you with goodness, patience, and endurance, and–hearing the Lord’s promise reecho in your heart: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Mt 5.4)–gives you the sense of deep peace, perfect joy, and happy hope. Succeed, therefore, in giving a Christian value to your suffering, succeed in sanctifying your suffering with constant and generous hope in him who comforts and gives strength. I want you to know that you are not alone, or separated, or abandoned in your Via Crucis; beside you, each one of you, is the Blessed Virgin, who considers you her most beloved children. (Pope John Paul II, Address at Lourdes, France, May 22, 1979)
How can we ever comfort Him?
Today we remember the depths of Christ’s love for us. But how can we ever love Him in return, how can we comfort Him in His suffering? His suffering is too huge and our love is so small. As I was pondering that question last night, the Holy Spirit called to mind something I read a year or too ago about this. The author advised that we be like little children who try to comfort a suffering parent. About all we can do as a child is hold our parent’s hand or kiss him or her. Yet that provides great comfort for the parent. All Christ asks of us is to be with Him today in His suffering, to hold His hand or kiss His feet, each in our own way.
This all reminds me of a painting by Giotto of Christ’s descent from the cross. In it we see the women caressing Christ’s body: Mary, His dear Mother, and the women who followed Him. Giotto places a figure square in the middle of the painting with its back to us. He does that to prompt us to think about where we would be in the picture. Take his prompting and let yourself enter into this mystery and hold Him and kiss Him today.
“Return to the most sorrowful woman the body, even if only lifeless, so that, although so diminished the crucified man may grow with kisses, with embraces.”
Loving with Mary
This morning as I woke up, I began thinking again about contemplating our Lord’s Passion with Mary. I was immediately struck by the thought of how much of her time and love was spent through these difficult days in loving those that Christ loved. Peter would surely have flown to her after his denial. How lost John must have felt after his flight in the garden. Mary Magdalen and Mary and Martha (and Lazarus) of Bethany would have faced their own devastation. There was the bitter anger at Judas that pervaded them all. And so on with all of them. But just as Jesus gave her to us through John at the Cross, so He would have been urging her in the same way (by His Spirit) to go out to those He loved so much.
Perhaps your Triduum will be filled with the demands of others and you would rather be focusing more “directly” upon our Lord. Perhaps it is His Spirit urging you to go where His Mother is going. In following her and loving whomever she is loving, you will in fact be loving our Lord who loves them more than you do.
Contemplating with Mary
There were two options for the Opening Prayer for Mass last Thursday–something I hadn’t seen yet in the new missal. Our priest chose the second option, and I will be forever grateful. The prayer reads:
O God, who in this season give your Church the grace to imitate devoutly the Blessed Virgin Mary in contemplating the passion of Christ, grant, we pray, through her intercession, that we may cling more firmly each day to your Only Begotten Son and come at last to the fullness of his grace. Who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen.
I was caught by the beginning: “to imitate devoutly the Blessed Virgin Mary in contemplating the passion of Christ.” My whole prayer became one of asking Mary to help me walk through this Holy Week close to her, perceiving her Son with her eyes and loving Him with her heart. This, of course, can totally change one’s experience of the Passion. Wouldn’t Mary have walked in great faith though in great darkness? Wouldn’t she have strengthened her Son as much as she could? Would she not have stood at the Cross in adoration, willing that He would draw from her everything that could encourage Him in doing His Father’s will completely?
May we each learn greatly from her this week.
“How are you doing?”
Yesterday was the sixth anniversary of my brother Tim’s death. He would have been 60 this year. As many of you know, he took his own life and the impact on all of us who loved him was devastating. What I want to share here is a set of e-mails between me and my spiritual director from three years ago at this time of year. Fr. Dan, remembering that Tim’s anniversary was coming up, had sent me a short e-mail, simply asking “How are you doing?” My response is very frank. I share this with you for a few reasons.
One: it means so much for people to remember, to remember anniversaries. Every year since she found out, a friend always shows up on my brother’s anniversary with a plant. I, of course, do not expect her to do that every year for the rest of my life, but she obviously knows enough about the pain of a suicide to know how much this touches me. Just saying those four words: “How are you doing?” can make a world of differences. Even if my answer is “I’m really doing fine,” I am still so touched that you have remembered.
Two: Losing someone to suicide is a grief that never goes away and is very paimnful for years. It is unlike any other grief.
Three: I hope that both my frankness and my sharing of how God meets me in my pain and Fr. Dan’s response to me may bring hope to someone out there who may be struggling in a similar way. . .
(I am editing some of this.)
Dear Fr. Dan,
How am I doing? It really depends these days on when you ask. But, if you have the time, I am going to try to verbalize a few things. I am suffering. I am suffering most acutely from Tim’s death, but also the many other losses in my life: at the end of my first of college: the tragic death in a car crash of a very close friend; my parent’s divorce and subsequent disintegration of my family; my brother Paul’s death in a car accident at the age of 24; my mother’s death; Tim’s violent death. They all kind of rush in upon me sometimes. . . . Some days I want to run away. Some days I just want to shout out: “My brother put a gun in his mouth and killed himself!” Most days I don’t even know how to pray. I get irritated by stupid questions people ask me about things. And I have to keep leading us [as Superior of our order] and making decisions and answering stupid questions with love and kindness. I feel alone and afraid a lot. Friends I have depended on are not there as they were. I could cry at the slightest kindness shown me.
And yet in the midst of the suffering, there’s a desire to offer it up, to kiss this Hand from whom it all comes. . . . There’s also a slight hope that I will come to know Christ and His love through it in a way that I would never know otherwise. There are pinpoints of light. Last night as I was going to sleep and dealing with fear and pain, I starting thinking, I’m walking through the valley of the shadow of death, the valley of deep darkness. And the words from Psalm 23 hit me: “I will fear no evil”–and I knew that Satan couldn’t touch me there. And then this morning when I woke early and was encountering the same things, the rest of that verse came to me: “because You are with me.” And that brought back to mind Dr. Regis Martin’s article on Christ’s descent into hell which, as you know, has spoken eloquently to my soul. Paul of the Cross (among others) counsels us to join our sufferings to the different mysteries in Christ’ life: “I will try with all my strength to follow the footsteps of Jesus. If I am afflicted, abandoned, desolate, I will keep him company in the Garden. If I am despised and injured, I will keep him company in the Praetorium. etc.” Perhaps Christ is inviting me to “live” in the mystery of His descent into Hell, to walk with Him through the valley of the shadow of death. I am once again re-reading Dr. Martin’s article, and once again it clarifies and strengthens me. There’s some experience this morning of His having entered through the ‘barred doors” of my heart, my own little “hell.” The pain is still there, but there”s also a knowledge that He’s there and I’m not alone.
I must thank you for your kindness in asking me how I’m doing. Four small words, but when sincerely said can make such a difference for people. And I don’t mean to complain by anything I’ve said here. Many people have been very kind to me these days, but the suffering continues.
It’s funny, isn’t it–when you’re in the middle of suffering and pain, it just seems like there’s no end, that it just has and always will be this way, and then a few little words: “You are with me” can open up a whole spiritual perspective that makes all the difference. The wounds are still there, but there’s a little balm. The mental torment can continue, but I don’t fear that I’m going crazy. Hell becomes the place where Christ descends and meets me in the scariest places in my life, where one one else can really go but Him.
Fr. Dan’s reply:
Peace be with you.
As you tell of your experience in these days, Paul’s words in Rom 8:38-39 seem so apposite: “For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Christ grasps you firmly. He is walking with you, unobserved by your, through the valley of the shadow of death, and sustaining you by the banquet He has prepared for you. The reality of the fear and terror of events you describe, which leave a remnant of their foul odor in your memory even long after the events themselves have passed, only prove the more the reality of what you hope for. That hope is your anchor in Christ, which allows him–like a great heavenly winch!–to draw you through (not around!) those very terrors into the Kingdom. The psalm says that the banquet is set for you, but “in the presence of my enemies.” The greatness of these enemies is infinitely surpassed by the greatness of His mercy, which is always for you. Keep doing what you know to do: relying on yourself for nothing, and on Him, and His infinite mercy, for everything.
Christ walks with each of you through whatever valley you are in right now.
It is bliss
I am re-reading Ida Friederike Görres’s book on St. Thérèse, The Hidden Face. I read the sentence below this morning, a general statement about a happy childhood. What struck me is that it is, in fact, the description of the experience God means for all of us to have as we grow into the stature of being His child. It is such an excellent description of the love of God for us:
It is bliss simply to be someone’s child, child of a father, of a mother, living, moving and having its being in a love which is unmerited, unmeritable, anticipatory, unconditional and immutable.
No matter what our own experiences of our parents, this is still absolutely and unequivocally true for each of us as a child of God the Father. If you have a minute, read the sentence again slowly, pondering each of those words: “unmerited, unmeritable, anticipatory, unconditional and immutable.” There is a lifetime of meditation there. Let yourself taste a bit of the bliss.
The other book
The other book I’m reading at the moment that I would like to tell you about is 33 Days to Morning Glory, A Do-It-Yourself Retreat In Preparation for Marian Consecration. This is a book for those of you who feel an inclination to entrusting your life more to the Mother of God, but get bogged down and discouraged by books that outline long lists of prayers and readings in preparation for a consecration to Mary. In this book, Fr. Michael E. Gaitley leads the reader in 33 days of simple readings based on the writings of Louis deMontfort, Maximilian Kolbe, Mother Teresa, and Bl. John Paul II. This is very manageable, instructive, and inspiring. Fr. Gaitley, as in his previous book, Consoling the Heart of Jesus, reaches out to and writes for the simple souls out there. I am one of those, and I greatly appreciate this book. I think many of you would as well.
Witnesses to Hope 