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Christ the King and the Courage of the Martyrs

Through the reign of Christ the King, martyrs raise Christian prayer into heights that the limited powers of this world cannot know. The King of Kings dwells in this place forever implicated in humanity’s plight, sending His Holy Spirit of power, consecrating all creation in the truth.  Those who have joined His Body, the Church, are implicated in this very work. The sacred purpose of the Son of the Father will not be thwarted. That is why Revelations 11:3ff speaks about the undaunted witness of two mysterious figures who, though killed, rise up victorious against all hellfire. What is told about these witnesses is true for every martyr and serves as a standard for anyone who would witness to the love of Christ.

One becomes the subject of this heavenly reality through faith in the Lord of Lords. Faith that makes us subject to the Word made flesh frees us from this world even though we still live in it. Those who believe in the Risen Lord and who live by His love still live in this work-a-day world marked by the daily routine. They feel the tyranny of anxious circumstance and the urgent moment’s  absolute claim over the attention of the heart. They are not unfamiliar with the popular conventions, learned cynicism, political agendas and cultural forces that enslave their neighbors.

Although in this very world, Christians are subject to it only to the degree that their faith fails them. By faith, they are subject only to the will of the Prince of Peace. Their confidence comes from Him. No longer subject to the commercial and political myths that define social relations, faith gives a higher vantage point. From this height alone is one able to see the true value that is at stake in an encounter and given the freedom to fight for it. Above the fray of the routine, for the sake of the Lamb, these witnesses continue to implicate themselves in the plight of those still subject to it by prayer and love, and here, in prayer’s loving power, they fight to open up the vast horizons of truth for which longs the human spirit.

Who are they that they should live and pray in this way? As did Enoch and Moses, they walk with the Lord and call on His Name through it all. As did Elijah and John the Baptist, they bravely unmask every offense against human dignity, even when cloaked in social convention and moralistic disguise. Although certain defeat and death awaits them, as it did St. Peter and St. Paul, they still dare contend against the deepest enemies of humanity until their testimony is complete.

They reign with the Victorious One in the midst of every defeat, void and inadequacy. Even in utter disaster, their witness remains even if in the form of a dried up corpse. A horror to every worldly power, they may even be denied every last respect but they are unmoved. Their enemies may gloat over them, but only for a time with misguided hubris. Their works may appear to crumble into dust and blow away, yet the King has established through them what will not pass away. Like condemned criminals their cause might seem utterly lost, yet, as it is with their Crucified God, not even death can keep them down.

Reigning with the Lamb that was slain, they possess a freedom that allows them, even in the midst of total failure, to witness with courage. Their weaknesses is only a window for divine power. Their seeming foolishness none other than a fountain of divine wisdom. Their mortal end, merely the beginning of new life. In serving their Captain, they have found a liberty that rises above the narrow limits of time and space, a prayer that ascends to the very heart of God in a cloud of glory.   

Prayers for those who have Died

My heart goes to those whose loved ones have died in the recent fires in California, in their aftermath as well as in so many terrible acts of violence. Clearly those of us who are close to these awful events cannot be indifferent and we must find ways to relieve the suffering of the living. But what about the plight of those who have died? Does our faith in Christ allow us to offer them relief and aid in their final journey to the House of the Father? If so, then we must pray for them, and for the friends and family that they have left behind.

We are implicated in each other’s mysterious journey to God, even after death. We believe this because of the resurrection of the Lord from the dead and the reality of the Church in which Christ has established us. The Christ’s own body and blood, soul and divinity are not remote from us, but given to us, even to the point that we nourish ourselves on Him and are made His members.

Hence, joined together in Him, in His Body, the Church, we go where the Risen Lord leads – and He always leads to a deeper solidarity, He in us and we in Him. Having blazed the trail from the valley of death to the Father’s House, He is the Way from the depths of sin to the highest heavens. He leads us from the visible to the invisible, from time to eternity, from what seems senseless to what is most meaningful. No one can thwart His purpose.

As members of His Body, we trod this trail by a communion of prayers. This solidarity of hope includes prayers of our own and also of those who pray for us, and every prayer echoes with the cry that lives in the Heart of Christ. Whether we live or die, no power in heaven or on earth or beneath this world can break this communion of prayer. Indeed, when we pray and when others pray for us – it is truly our Immortal Lord praying in us. Wherever there is a reason for hope,  no matter how difficult the journey, who will set limits on the desires of His Heart or circumscribe the love He bears for each soul, especially those whose last moments seem eclipsed by agony?

By a communion of prayer, we journey in Him with one another from the first moment of faith until we arrive at last in the light of glory. By the simplest movement of heart and even the faintest effort to cling to Him, a happy ending awaits us even if in death everything seems engulfed meaninglessness. Not a movement we ever make on our own, but our own decision nonetheless, even as myriads of hosts rush to protect it and help it realize its hope. Thus, at death, when we are no longer able to journey on our own, His prayer through the Church carries us onward.

Love requires many difficult purifications and painful healings before we can stand before the face of the One who loved us to the end. No unaided human effort can endure these trials of love. Yet, we never face these alone, but always in the Church with Christ’s gentle presence and His mighty prayer. Because He conquered death and because we are members of His Body, death cannot stand between us and the love of God. If Christ’s prayer has triumphed over sin and death, then when Christ prays through us in His Church for our brothers and sisters who have died, whatever He asks for on their behalf is heard and granted by the Father.

By this exquisite solidarity of prayer, the Bride of Christ knows the way to the Bridegroom in both life and death. She knows this path to love. She knows it by love and She knows it for love. She knows even as it disappears from our sight at the last moments of this life. Though we cannot see it, the Body of Christ knows the passage that crosses the very threshold of heaven. Christ Himself bridges this abyss. Therefore, the Bride of the Lamb dares to pray, even for those who have died, by prayer that participates in Christ’s own prayer. With a newness that this dying world cannot know, we who are bound together in the Church traverse with each soul the wounds of sin, covered by the blood of the Lamb and His own unvanquished hope, to enter the healing heart of the Trinity.  

The Radical Hope of a Generous Heart

Catholics and all Christians are called to live a radical hope – a hope rooted in the resurrection of Jesus from the Dead.  Since we believe that He has conquered sin and death, neither sin nor death can take away our hope.  Our conviction that good has triumphed over evil in the world spills over into our own lives. It gives us the freedom to be completely generous with the Lord because it knows that no matter how much is given, God has already given so much more. Those who ground themselves in the Word of the Father do not fear death or anything, for nothing can stand between them and the love of God.

Radical hope engages in battle. A hope that fights against fear is needed in our families and in the broader community. To be permissive seems like kindness but it is stingy. It lacks confidence in God who is at work in my neighbor. Failures to protect the most vulnerable steal away the hope of others nearly as much as it robs hope from one’s own soul. The greed of such despair is only fully revealed under the shadow of the Cross, and it is in this same shadow that radical hope triumphs.

Before the Cross, we find the ground of God’s hope for man and man’s hope for God. Here, a mysterious Presence enfolds the misery of humanity in mercy. The Father’s gaze searches sin and death and finds the loving obedience of His Son. In this mutual gaze, the Holy Spirit convinces us of sin and gives the courage to make a new beginning. Here, cowardice loses its power. The bravery to give all that one has is born. Let the tears that fall from our eyes lift us into prayer. By prayer, let us allow God to move us into action. From the smallest and most informal conversation to a public event where one’s reputation is on the line, God is ready to act in and through us – ready to plant hope firmly in His Merciful Love.

On the Canonization of John Paul II

Last summer, in 2013, the Shrine of Saint Anne in Arvada, Colorado invited me to provide a lectures series on the Wisdom of the Saints.  The last lecture for this series was filmed by Stephen Keating and edited into short video segments.  The Blog Roman Catholic Spiritual Direction (rcspiritualdirection.com) has generously made these videos available.  Click here to access part one.

EWTN’s Register Radio also interviewed me about John Paul II.  To access this podcast click here.

The Hope of the Church

My heart is with all the young people marching today in D.C. and other parts of the Country for the unborn and for mothers and for families.  In the cold weather and in a hostile culture, sometimes without the support they should receive, there they are taking a stand, a sign of courage in a society that has lost its heart — and their courage is a source of hope for us.   They are so remarkable – not only do they not fail to make a good public witness for the most vulnerable in society through political demonstrations, we also hear about them working in soup kitchens, with special needs children, with the elderly and offering many other expressions of heartfelt generosity and love.  They are also open to all the new ways God might call them into vocations of service.   We are so blessed to have these heroes as our sons and daughters, our grandchildren, our brothers and sisters.   They remind the Church about the generosity of God who is always raising up and making all things new.   Blessed John Paul II called the young people living signs of hope for the Church – he did not mean because of what they may do in the future, but he meant because of what they are doing now.  This is as true today as it was when he was Pope.  No wonder he seemed to be energized whenever he was around them.   We need to hold our young people up in prayer so that the good work the Lord has begun in them might be brought to perfection.  

My Portion is the Lord

Since I have been invited to post for Roman Catholic Spiritual Direction, I have been in conversation with friends and students about continuing the mission of this blog — which is meant to encourage a new beginning of prayer in our lives. Prayer does not offer an escape from trials or the difficulties of our time – it offers a way to face them with hope, the hope we have from God.   To help keep this important discussion going, we will be blessed by several different guest bloggers from a variety of different walks of life who offer their reflections to this end.  
 
The following post is a reflection on the reason for our hope by +Amanda Rose  – a single mom and faithful Catholic who lives in Florida. Amanda writes spiritual reflections at www.LittleStepsAlongTheWay.com : 



My portion is the Lord, says my soul; therefore will I hope in Him

Lamentations 3:24

My portion is not a small part of something larger. My Portion is All. My portion is my Creator and my Savior. He cannot give only part of Himself to me. He cannot divide Himself. He gives generously. He gives all.

Yes, my portion – set aside specially and specifically for me – it is the Lord. He has given all for me on the Cross and He continues to give all to me in the Eucharist. He does not share only part of Himself, He does not hold back a portion of Himself from loving, from expressing His love for us. The Eternal Spirit was even willing to limit Himself within skin and bones to show me His love, to touch me in love. And He continues to humble Himself, to give Himself to us so vulnerably in the Eucharist.

Therefore, I hope.

I hope when my mind says I shouldn’t. I hope while the tears run down my cheeks. I hope when I cannot hold back the sobs of disappointment, grief and exhaustion.  Even when I doubt, my souls sings “my portion is the Lord.”

I cling to this truth.

The song is written in our hearts, whether we hear it or not, whether or not we can see the notes to sing along. The thoughts can crash so loudly that they drown out the song of the soul, and so I must work to remember. I struggle within myself to remember the beauty of the song when my intellect does not understand, when my emotions overflow with anguish.

The cup I drink from at the moment may taste bitter, it may burn as I swallow down the contents of the day, of the moment, but my portion is still my God and He is good.

No matter what I feel, what I see – I know that He is good.

He is my portion, and so I am able to hope, so I choose to hope even when I feel hopeless. I decide to hope when my thoughts assail me with doubts, with grief.

 My soul has known the Truth, the Truth that has and will continue to set me free. My soul hopes and savors the memory of the Portion who is All. My Portion, my All, the Three-in-One and One-in-Three.

Thank you, Lord, for being my All, my Generous Portion, my Hope.

Making Space for God in the Face of Grave Evil

How do we pray in the face of grave evil and personal disaster?  Often grave evil has a stifling affect on prayer.  One feels overwhelmed and helpless. In this despondency, the mind struggles to search for God’s presence, if it struggles at all.  In the face of unexpected disaster, the crushing burden of difficult questions torments the soul.  Yet, the world in which we live and in which we pray has always been riddled with the mystery of grave and overwhelming evil.  How do we begin to pray when God’s love seems so absent and the reason for our hope so difficult to affirm?

Sometimes it feels impossible to pray and prayer is reduced to its most essential and simple movement – the cry of the heart for mercy.  On this point, Pope Emeritus Benedict’s Spe Salvi refers to Cardinal Nguyen van Thuan’s experiences during his long internment in Vietnam (see #34).  Sometimes, there was nothing the Cardinal could offer from his heart and all he could do was repeats passages from Scripture or prayers he memorized.

I have also spoken to those close to death who complain about the same kind of difficulty in prayer.  They want to want to be able to pray – but there are no words, no thoughts, no feelings, nothing to intuit, nothing to imagine, nothing.  In such moments, God seems so absent and in effort to pray, if effort can be made at all, seems so wasted.  So they repeat simple short phrases they have memorized, “now and at the hour of our death” or else “our hope does not disappoint” or even “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…”  

In such cases, all that is left to the soul seems to be a sort of last vestige of prayer, a feeble desire to raise one’s heart to God, a desire hidden in the overwhelming pain that, in this moment and under these circumstances, cannot realize fulfillment and yet chooses to hope anyway.  It is an effort to pray or to desire to pray baptized in heartbreak and dismay — and in this annihilation, we have already entered deep into the infallible prayer of Christ Crucified.

Who is not reduced to this kind of prayer when the mystery evil crushes the innocent and vulnerable?  When we learn about a friend’s daughter paralyzed after a fatal accident, when we learn about explosives killing people at a foot race, or when we learn about the horrific slaughter of babies who having survived callous attempts to abort them were subjected in the most inhumane brutality, it is difficult to pray – the heart is numb, but not our hope.  When the simple words of the Our Father, a Hail Mary, or even the whispered name of Jesus is all that can be offered — this is what the Lord needs us to offer and this with what love we can muster: for even in the poverty of our prayer, the most frail effort to pray makes space in the world for God to act.  So we find the courage to pray.  The power of God is at work in so many hidden ways that, even when our conversation with the Him is reduced to nothing else than the most humble cry of the heart, the Lord unleashes anew that flood of hope that helps the world begin to see the triumph of good over evil even in face of heart-breaking circumstances.

Sober Vigilance and Unconquered Hope

Times of tribulation require sober vigilance.  Hardships drive many to various forms of insobriety.  For others, these trials excite all kinds of anxiety.  If we are not watchful, we can easily find ourselves insnared in all kinds of evil.

Our faith in Christ demands that we not allow ourselves to be overcome by evil but rather we must find ways to overcome evil with good.  If we allow ourselves to be dissipated by either anxiety or insobriety, we will not have the interior fortitude we need to escape the spiritual traps that are set for us.   How are we to preserve our strength and not lose heart in the face of great evil?  Jesus exhorts us to pray if we are to find the strength to stand firm with Him.

Unceasing prayer is the secret of a vigilant heart.   In the beginning, this kind of prayer does not exempt us from moments of anger or distress.   What it does do is permeate these movements of heart with hidden riches of hope.   Likewise, unceasing prayer does not decrease exterior trials – if anything, souls that attempt to pray without ceasing must face more trials than do others.   I think this is because God is mercifully at work in all the hardships in the world and when a soul is joined to God by prayer, the Lord constantly draws that soul into His work, allowing the prayerful heart to participate in his plan of love – which is to overcome evil with good.

The soul that keeps its eyes fixed on Christ crucified through all of this acquires the secret of not being overcome and learns how to not lose heart.   No matter the evil – the sudden discovery of cancer, the unexpected death of a loved one, the loss of a job, a horrible accident, a failed marriage, a betrayal of a friend, a public humiliation, a false accusation, the mockery of the oppressive – a soul that constantly hopes in the love of God might suffer a moment of dismay but never remains trapped in disappointment.  Instead, the vigilant are continually caught up in surprised wonder over the astounding ways the Lord shows forth His faithfulness.

The Hope of God

Periodically, I like to refer to a beautiful mystery that plays out in the life of prayer.  Namely, in the midst of all kinds of difficulties and trials, we are able to hope in God because He hopes in us even more.   There are some who wonder whether this is true.  In the light of all our frailties and failures, does God really hope in us?

I cannot take credit for this idea.  It seems to be a theme in the writings of Charles Peguy.  I remember a gathering of youth where John Paul II used this same idea.  It is just not an idea we hear very often.

Is it Scriptural?  In fact, God the Father has such great hope in humanity that He sent His only begotten Son into the world.  He expressed the immensity of His hope in the most tender way by placing His Beloved Son into the hands of Mary and Joseph.  His hope in us never wavered even unto the Cross where the full extent of human wickedenss was revealed.  He still saw something good in humanity at that moment, He still had a reason to believe in us even as we utterly rejected Him.

Jesus, the Son of God for His part, allowed Himself to be totally dependent on us.  He revealed the extent of His trust He placed His life in the hands of the holy family and in the hands of the communities in which He lived in Bethlehem and Nazareth.  It is interesting to think that in both places, attempts on His life were made.   Nevertheless, He chose, like the Father, to trust us.  In fact, in making this decision not to lose hope in humanity, He was revealing to us just how much the Father hopes in us.  His trust in us never wavered.  He trusted us as a falsely condemned and completely humiliated man, even to His last breath.  

This divine trust, this sacred hope continues to live in the Church through the gift of the Holy Spirit.  The Trinity trusts us so much that through the Holy Spirit we are constituted into the very Body of Christ by faith and baptism.  This means that the Risen Lord entrusts the work He is continuing to do into our hands.   Through Holy Spirit working in the ministry of a priest, the hope of the Risen Lord is dynamically present in all of the Sacraments and the proclamation of the Gospel in the liturgy.  God’s hope is especially communicated to us in the Blessed Sacrament where He continues to entrust Himself to us: Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.

What is the basis of this hope on the part of God?  What does the Father see in us?  What does the Son see?  Jesus is always driven by the glory of the Father — for He loves the Father.  He sees everything that gives the Father glory.  Christ only sees and contemplates what is the most good and beautiful reality of our lives – He discerns the divine image and likeness with which we were fashioned and in this He knows our true identity and purpose.  He believes in us because He believes in the glory of His Father for which He was sent that we might manifest this glory too.

And the Father?  He contemplates his beloved Son — because when His Son entered into our humanity and embraced it to Himself, He fundamentally transformed the meaning of humanity and restored the ancient dignity we lost by sin.  He sees each of us animated with the life of His beloved Son so that we might fulfill the great purpose He has entrusted to each of us uniquely and individually from the eternal moment He first thought of us.  He is confident in His Son and the power of His life in us – so He never loses His confidence in us.

But does this divine hope in frail humanity not shake the way we look at the Christian life?  So often I thought that God was counting on someone else — but going deeper, one realizes that it is not someone else at all.  God places Himself into our hands every day not only in the Eucharist, in the Holy Scripture, and in prayer but also even more poignantly in the poor, the vulnerable, and all those He has entrusted to our care – because it is through them that the grace of the Risen Lord is at work and the glory of God made manifest to the world.  It seems impossible – but all things are possible through God who strengthens us.

How Do We Know To Whom We Pray?

Authentic christian devotion always grounds prayer in the truth about the One to whom we pray. Many contemporary spiritual techniques and methods hold out psychological comfort and the pursuits of psychic states.  In and of themselves, comfort and enlightenment are not bad.  But if we pursue these more than the Word of the Father, if we rest in experiences rather than in faith, we are vulnerable to dehumanizing deception. The Father does not want us to compromise our integrity in our pursuit of Him and that is why He has revealed the truth to us in His Word. Through prayer rooted in this Truth, the Lord grounds us in an integrity of life more powerful than death, the only foundation firm enough to bear the weight of human existence.

In his Confessions, after observing that the Creator has fashioned humanity with the instinct or urge to praise Him, St. Augustine asks how it is we are to know God so that this human need might be met.  He realizes that we can be deluded, that we can transfer our desire for God onto other things.  If we pray to God, how do we know that we are not talking to ourselves or devoting ourselves to something else other than Him?

For St. Augustine, this is the ultimate question because it concerns our happiness.   For him, having the right answer to his question is essential because the whole purpose of our existence weighs in the balance.  Since our nature can only rest in God, if we are mistaken about who it is we are worshiping, we will not find the peace which we were meant to have. So long and so far as we are disconnected from the truth, the deepest core of our being remains frustrated and out of harmony with itself- this is, as St. Augustine experienced, a disintegrating way to live.

Could it be that some of the frustration we feel personally and that we see unfolding in society finds its roots in the fact that we are not devoting ourselves to the One True God?  We worship at other altars instead. We have not rooted our prayer in truth but in a mirage, a shadow.

There is a lot of frustration in our society and in our families today — frustration that results from believing that attaining possessions, security, comfort, pleasure and reputation will finally allow us to be happy.  We go to Church and we do what we are suppose to, but we do not make the search for the true God the priority, the guiding passion in our lives.  We are dissipated on other pursuits – other altars demand our sacrifices.  We develop clever plans and systems to secure these good things — and yet no matter how much we attain of them, happiness seems to elude us, like a mirage in the desert.   We are like the pilgrim Dante at the beginning of the Divine Comedy — we think we see the way out, but the more we try, the more lost we get and the more vulnerable.

The answer St. Augustine proposes is in the words of a preacher. The Church is where the Word of the Father gives Himself to the World. The Word gives Himself in the power of the Holy Spirit. Such power moves us out of death and into a fullness of life – a new creation, a new fruitfulness.  Bridegroom gives Himself in this way because the Church is His Bride – and because the Word is coming now, the Spirit and the Bride call to us as they call to Him: Come.

A preacher speaks on behalf of the Church because of his Spirit-filled relationship with the Church. By the Holy Spirit. he does not preach his own opinions or a testimony about himself, but he witnesses to the Word so that we might know the truth about the Father in the power of the Holy Spirit. Imperfect though they may be, God has chosen to makes Himself known through those who dare to preach the Gospel. Such preachers of the Word help us find the Truth about the One to whom we pray and, more than that, they help us encounter Him and know His presence.