Catholicism – Page 2 – Vehicle Vespers

Weapons of Self-Restraint

Jesus said,

“:…when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face ¹⁸so that your fasting will not be noticed by men, but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees what is done in secret will reward you.” (Mt. 6:17)

It is not a complex teaching. It’s quite direct, and it gives me pause. The whole first section of Matthew chapter 6 comprises similar direct teachings on the dangers of overt piety. I find myself in a dilemma. Publishing a blog inherently involves a certain amount of attention seeking. No matter the motive, one cannot get around the fact that blogging says, “Hey! Look at me; listen to what I have to say!” Lent is supposed to be a time of introspection and preparation. A time for a new examination of short-comings, not a time to polish and proclaim one’s talents. I held off publishing anything on Ash Wednesday, because these thoughts troubled me. I even thought that maybe I should set this site aside for the entire 40 days. On the other hand, I’ve decided to start a blog with a religious and Catholic theme, and it seems almost an act of malfeasance not to share the thoughts and experiences coming my way between now and Holy Week. I think the best course of action, then, is to proceed, but to do so cautiously and carefully. With that in mind, I would like to share a few thoughts about this season we have just entered. In sharing my heart a bit, I hope to give you some food for thought, and maybe some encouragement. Reactions and comments, by-the-way, are always welcomed.

I Love You

I do. Even if I have never met you, I love you. I feel this in a very strong way with regard to the general topic of spiritual examination. For those of you who practice Lenten traditional practices, we share something very deep, and an understanding of the hope and purpose these traditions embody. Other net travelers who land here and are still reading out of interest or slight curiosity make a gift of that interest and curiosity. Gifts like that are the seeds that lead to fraternal blossoms, and can bear much fraternal fruit. To all, then, I say very sincerely: brothers and sisters, I love you.

You Are Not Alone

Many religious people from all walks of life take individual affirmative spiritual actions–like sacrifice, vocation, alms-giving, and prayer–throughout the year. The wonderful thing about Lent is that we all do it together and at the same time. It is not just about getting ourselves prepared for Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. It is also about renewing our sense of Apostolic responsibility to each other. As each individual abstains or gives alms, it pulls the focus off of self and puts it on God. When we are focused on how much we love that cheeseburger, that chocolate bar, that diet soda, or that glass of fine Scotch, we fixate on the fleeting and the perishable; the meaningless. Our backs are turned, even if only for a short time, from the rest of the faithful. When we return our focus back to God, though, we turn our faces toward the truth, and find ourselves shoulder-to-shoulder instead of back-to-back. I don’t mean to say that we only care about others for 40 days out of the year. My point is that the 40 days is the conditioning, training, and refocusing work that carries us through the rest of the liturgical year. The concluding prayer for the Morning Hours in the Divine Office for Ash Wednesday referred to fasting and penance as “weapons of self-restraint.” We cannot battle the challenges, or overcome the obstacles the ever-decaying world throws at us without tools, and we cannot do it alone. That phrase really jumped off the page at me. In a recent post, Catholic mom and blogger, Pilar, details the way even acquaintances in a parish community rally together to face the toughest challenges of life and support each other through prayer, help, and love. [https://thepapistsquirrel.wordpress.com/2018/02/16/ashes-to-ashes/] We don together our “weapons of self-restraint,” and protect each other.

Rejoicing in Grace and Salvation

One of the most well-known calls to action in scripture comes from the Psalms:

“This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Ps 118:24)

During Lent, that can be a big ask. The word “Alleluia” disappears from Mass and the daily prayers of the Church. It’s often wet, cold, and gloomy. We hit a rough day, and even the comfort of that favorite item we’ve given up is not there as a reward to greet us at that day’s end. Deep in prayer, abstinence, fasting, alms-giving, and self-examination, we can struggle to find fuel for rejoicing. The reasons remain. We must always remember that we aren’t fasting, abstaining, praying deeply, and giving alms for our sake. Penance isn’t a punch card that when completed gets us a reservation to Heaven. Grace remains constant. The Cross of Christ’s passion is a never-ending bulwark of salvation. If we endure discomfort in our earthly bodies, of what real concern is that? We are dust and to dust we shall return. Those smudges we sport on Ash Wednesday are certainly not fashion statements. Penance and fasting don’t blot out the joy of realizing the Love, Mercy, and Grace of the Gospel. They are expressions of that joy. That’s the mystery. These “weapons of self-restraint” are not restraining, but liberating. They allow us to push ourselves out of the way, so we can fully know the Mercy of God, through the passionate Love of Christ our savior, with the power of the Holy Spirit, which gives us hope and faith.

May the Lord Bless us,
protect us from all evil,
and bring us to eternal life.
Amen.

Praying is Fundamental

For the past 35 minutes or so, I have been staring at my last blog entry trying to decide what I wanted to write about next. I just wasn’t hitting on anything. I started worrying that maybe I wouldn’t stick with this blog; that I would get bored with it and let it lapse. Realizing that worry is not something we get from God, I forced myself to snap out of my self-important and futile fretting. I gave up trying think of a topic, and instead prayed for guidance. Now, my fingers are moving smoothly across the keys, and the spell of the vaunted blank page has been broken. We humans really can be mewling, faithless, ungrateful brats sometimes. Would you believe that I was actually surprised that my prayer was answered in such a tangible way? I don’t seem to be doing a very good job today applying the fundamentals. In this case, prayer and faith.

Anyone who has played organized sports, or has a child who has done so, knows that coaches stress the importance of fundamentals. When players lose a grasp on the fundamentals, they almost always experience a loss of results. I think the same thing is true about prayer. Take a step back and think about the ebb and flow of your daily life. How many times a day do you catch yourself burning a few useless minutes letting anxiety and stress wash over you? I know it happens to me. Those minutes could be spent in prayer. We need to avoid falling into the trap of believing that prayer is only for Sundays or times of extreme despair.

Recently, I saw an episode of “Priests and Deacons: Ministers of Mercy,” in which Deacon Harold Burke-Sivers and Father Brian Mullady related the story of a Church official tasked with counseling the priests of the Diocese who were considering putting aside their vocations and leaving the priesthood. This official always began his sessions with the same question: “When did you stop praying?” Priests are required to pray the Liturgy of the Hours every day. That’s five times a day! That must be a very arduous duty for one who is the Pastor of a large parish. Why does the Church lay this extra burden on our already overworked Priests? I believe it is because the Church recognizes that the religious life is difficult, and that pitfalls are everywhere. Prayer is a direct conduit to perseverance.

There are two main reasons why people of faith don’t pray or stop praying. The first is hubris; they want to handle things on their own, or worse they don’t feel they deserve the benefits of prayer. The other is timidity. I often hear people say that they don’t know what to say when they pray. Some people believe they aren’t good at it. As in all things, Christ carries the burden for us here as well.

^“Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls to the ground without your Father’s knowledge. ³⁰Even all the hairs of your head are counted. ³¹So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.” (Mt 10:29-31)

God answers prayers:

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” (Mt 7:7)

We certainly do know what to say. Jesus taught the Lord’s Prayer/Our Father. It takes about ten seconds to recite. (Mt 6:9-13), and it fits the bill perfectly:

“Your Father knows what you need before you ask him.” (Mt 6:8)

If you are Catholic, you almost certainly have a Rosary somewhere, and the entire book of Psalms is a work containing prayers for all occasions.

Finally, try to pray for others as much or more as you pray for yourself. This is a good way we can express our love for Christ, for God, and for each other. A sense of Hope, a fullness of Faith, a self-awareness that leads to reconciliation, and an open receiving heart that feels fully the Love and Mercy of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit all begin with and are sustained through prayer.

May the Lord Bless us,
protect us from all evil,
and bring us to eternal life.
Amen.

Roads

I’m not sure how I got here. I am the son of a Lutheran Pastor. A child with a talent for public speaking at a young age who was almost certainly destined to follow in his father’s footsteps. For a very large portion of my life all “roads” pointed toward my one day becoming Pastor Paul. That was, it seems, not God’s plan after all. There was a period there of youthful anger. Those times followed by rampant ambition and some wild behavior. A stint in the United States Navy, which was a search for both adventure and travel, but also a search for purpose. I married a Roman Catholic, but that is not what put me here. Not directly, anyway. I’m not sure how I got here, but here I stand, and I can do no other. The oceans of water that have run under my bridge, the mountains of personal and shared struggle I’ve faced, and the deep paradoxes that have formed my spiritual self-identity have led me to a place where I strive in earnest, and not always successfully, to engage in formalized prayer twice a day. It is harder than one might imagine. I have a daughter who faces challenging medical issues. She needs transportation to many specialists. That’s time-consuming, but I don’t mind, because she is really an interesting and unique individual with a razor-sharp wit, and I love spending time with her. I have twin boys. They play different sports. I love watching them play sports, so I don’t mind the miles I log on the car or mini-van. Then there’s God. Now that is, indeed, a stark and halting sentence. The stress of the schedule, the constant worry about money and bills, the worry over the health and safety of parents and children, and the myriad other things that crash in on my consciousness, apparently do not fully meet the obligation of my vocation. I know many, many dads who live out a full and blessed vocation through their fatherhood. They are not just good men. They are great men. One day they will hear those most special words “Well done, my good and faithful servant.” I admire many of them and would like to be more like them. Then there’s God. God says, “you don’t get to stop there.” Let me be clear. I don’t hear God’s voice in my mind. I sense or feel this message. I don’t deny that I very well could be a flawed filter. Remember, though, that I don’t know how I got here. I am called to begin discernment on if I will join the Tertiary Order of Saint Dominic. That requires many things. One of those things is morning and evening prayer every day for the rest of my life. The only way I’m going to pull that off is by doing Vespers in my vehicle; hence, the name of this blog. Stay tuned. I shall strive to give you food for thought, and amusement at my feebleness.