Listen for the footsteps

As always, Fr. Peter John Cameron gives us a gem:

Father Alfred Delp, the heroic German Jesuit who was executed in 1945 for his resistance to the Nazi regime, wrote this:

Oh, if people know nothing about the promises anymore, if they only experience the four walls and the prison windows of their gray days, and no longer perceive the quiet footsteps of the announcing angels, if the angel’s murmured word does not simultaneously shake us to the depths and lift up our souls–then it is over for us.  Then we are living wasted time, and we are dead, long before they do anything to us.

This Advent is the perfect occasion to take account of all the walls, and prison windows, and gray days that we let define our lives.  There are quiet footsteps and murmured words of announcing angles coming our way, too, to remind us of God’s awesome promises.

I send my angel before you

 

 

How often do I forget the astounding gift of a guardian angel, an angel given just to me, to help me along my journey home, to protect and prod me.  “Behold, I send my angel before you.” (Ex 32.34) May God open the eyes of our hearts to perceive His great goodness through this wonderful gift.  May we be ever more attentive to their inspirations and help!

Birth of Mary

A repost:

Today we celebrate the birth of Mary.  I have to say that this morning when I woke up, I felt like breaking into a little song to her, at least “Happy birthday to you . . .”–which sounds so trite–but I knew in my heart that that would be dear to her . . . because she is that kind of Mother.

I want to share the first verse of a poem by Rilke because I think it conveys the sense of joy in the heavens at the birth of this great gift of God to us.

Birth of Mary

O what must it have cost the angels
not suddenly to burst into song, as one bursts into tears,
since indeed they knew: on this night the mother is being
born to the boy, the One, who shall soon appear.

(Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from the German by M.D. Herter Norton)

“O what it must have cost the angels”

Today we celebrate the birth of Mary.  I have to say that this morning when I woke up, I felt like breaking into a little song to her, at least “Happy birthday to you . . .”–which sounds so trite–but I knew in my heart that that would be dear to her . . . because she is that kind of Mother.

I want to share the first verse of a poem by Rilke because I think it conveys the sense of joy in the heavens at the birth of this great gift of God to us.

Birth of Mary

O what must it have cost the angels
not suddenly to burst into song, as one bursts into tears,
since indeed they knew: on this night the mother is being
born to the boy, the One, who shall soon appear.

(Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from the German by M.D. Herter Norton)

He was not alone

It bothered me for months that the body of my brother had not been found until ten days after he died.

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This morning I was remembering a story I first heard about three years ago.  It was told by Fr. Basil Nortz during a series of talks about the angels that we have on CD.  The story was told to him by another priest and goes something like this:  The priest’s mother died suddenly and unexpectedly one day, collapsing on the street after coming out of a store in which she had been shopping.   The priest, upon hearing about her death, was able to accept it in peace, except for one fact: that she had died so publicly on the street, a public spectacle–his mother was a very private person and would never have wanted to have died in such a public manner.  This was very disturbing to him. Why did God allow such a thing to happen?
     A few weeks after the funeral, he happened to be in the neighborhood of the store and stopped in.  The woman who worked there knew him and asked how he was doing.  He relayed his concern about the circumstances of his mother’s death.  She said, “Did no one tell you?” Apparently a young man who had been present came up almost immediately, put his coat around her, and held her in her arms until the EMT folks arrived.  The young man helped her into the vehicle and then took his coat.  The priest was so relieved that the young man had been with her, and, of course, wanted to know who he was so he could thank him.  The woman did not know, nor did others that had been present at his mother’s death.  Still he wanted to find him and thank him.
      Sometime later when the priest was praying, he heard a very distinct voice: “I am the one you are looking for.  I am the guardian angel of your mother.”    He realized that the Lord had allowed his mother’s guardian angel to appear in bodily form in order to protect his mother, even after she had died.  

The reason I share that story is very personal.  As some of you know, my brother, Tim, took his life in March of 2006.  I experienced God’s presence and comfort in untellable ways during those first few days after he died.  But like the priest in the story, in the midst of my grief something continued to disturb me.  My brother died on March 17, but his body was not found until ten days later, and that bothered me–that he was alone for those long ten days, and that haunted me for many months.  Until I heard Fr. Basil’s story.  As soon as he recounted the part where the priest heard the voice saying: “I am the one you are looking for. . .”, I began to weep because I knew the same was true for my brother–that his guardian angel had not left him alone during those ten days.   God’s mercy is so great.  “If I ascend to heaven, you are there!  If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! . . . Even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (Ps 139.8,10).

That is the heart of Christ for us and for all those we love.  He will not leave us alone. 

 I don’t know why that story came to mind this morning.  Perhaps one of you really need to hear it . . .