Monday Morning Meditation #122: Do Not Babble in Prayer As the Pagans Do

How can the weeks pass so quickly??! Already another week has gone by, and it seems as if last week just started. Then I think, oh, right, there was a lot that happened last week, including trips to Sacramento and North Carolina. Perhaps that is why the weeks seem to pass so quickly. I am never in the same place for more than a couple of days in a row. With all this traveling, one thing for which I am very grateful is those Bibles that the Gideons place in hotel rooms across the country. I, for one, use them.

This week, I continued to read Matthew, but I did not make it very far because Chapter 6 is so very rich, including the relation of how Jesus gave the Lord's Prayer to us. It was not the Lord's Prayer that drew my attention, however. It was the very short verse 7: "When you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words."

Reading: Matthew 6:7

Meditation:  While there are times that I do find myself "babbling," those times of prayer that I enjoy the most are the times when no words are used at all. I love the quiet walking together with God, as well as quiet periods of just sitting side by side. No words are really needed for very deep, intense, joyful, and inspirational communication. Perhaps that is why we are told not to go on and on. If we never stop talking, when can we ever hear what God has to say to us?

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning. I now retire to private prayer to praise God for all the information He has passed to us through Jesus and His prophets so that we better understand Him and know better how to communicate with Him. I will, of course, also ask God to help me to hold my tongue, and I will repent for each time I have talked too much and failed to listen to what God would have me hear. As always,  I will thank God for prayer, for wanting us to communicate with Him, and for wanting to communicate with us.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Monday Morning Meditation #121: Living in Grace

I was very much sidetracked this week from nearly everything: work, worship, and reading. Not my fault, really. I do hold my admin assistant and my deputy responsible to some extent, though. Because I was out of breath from walking up the flight of steps to my office, which I usually dash up, and was feeling some chest pains, they became concerned. I called my doctor, but when his nurse heard my symptoms and learned that my blood pressure during the night had soared to 208/116, she told me to go to the local hospital emergency room (not my hospital, but the one near my office). When my colleagues heard that, they herded me off to the hospital, no excuses accepted. When I got to the hospital, I thought I was doing well because my blood pressure had dropped to 202/100, but the doctors were not pleased, treated me as if I were having a heart attack (the nitroglycerin dropped my blood pressure nearly immediately to 115/56 -- it was interesting watching that nose dive), and, after some time had passed, admitted me. So, I spent part of the week lollygagging at the hospital and getting behind in nearly everything. The final analysis? Dunno. No one does. The doctors ruled out a heart attack, but they did not rule in anything else. So, there is my excuse for not making much reading progress this week.

I did move on a little in Matthew. I made it to the end of Chapter 5, where I found the following well-known verses:

⁴³ “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’
⁴⁴ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
⁴⁵ that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.
⁴⁶ If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that?
⁴⁷ And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?
⁴⁸ Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

Reading: Matthew 5

Meditation:  I think that one of the most difficult things I have had to accept is that God "sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." Telling me to forgive my mother, who was highly abusive to me, and saying that she lives in grace was a difficult thing for me to hear. Forgiving her, tracking her down, and calling her after ten years of being out of touch took all the strength and trust of God that I could muster. But I am glad I did that six years ago.

We have all needed God's grace. Is it any more fair that God forgive me than that God forgive the person who hurt me? I don't think so, but there was a time that I thought it unfair. I have, though, come to understand that our concept of fairness (getting what one's deserve, equal treatment, and the like) is quite different from God's sense of fairness (grace for all). I am glad that my mother lives in grace because it means that I, too, live in grace, just as do all of God's creatures.

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning/afternoon. I now retire to private prayer to praise God for His boundless grace. I will, of course, also ask God to help me to avoid imposing my own concept of fairness, and I will repent for each time I have failed to love all of God's creatures as God will have me love them. As always,  I will thank God for loving me, even when I am the least deserving of love. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

Monday Morning Meditation #120: The Little Temptations

What a difference a short period of time makes! The job-threatening situation at work has passed. Well, it is mostly past. There are reports to come out and conclusions to be committed to paper, but the result of the investigation showed that all my subordinate managers were not only doing an appropriate job and acting within legal parameters but were doing a good job and displaying good leadership and mentoring skills. So, all is well that ends well, or that at least looks to end well, thank the good Lord.  And it wound down soon enough for me to take time off work for the Easter triduum and attend the Masses scheduled over those three days. Good Friday Mass is always one that brings tears even though one knows that it is a sign of redemption and hope, positive things. I was unable to spend much time at the Easter vigil on Saturday because of Doah's allergy to the mission which reared up about twenty minutes into the Mass. Sunday was breathing room only, with people standing all the way to the back of the church and spilling out past the door into the garden, but in a way I like that. It is good to see so many people gathered together in worship.

Now my reading of the Bible, which I continue to stumble through each week, has not kept pace with the events around me. So, I am back at the beginning of Matthew still, closer to the Christmas season than to Easter. Well, it does not matter. All of it has something to say to us regardless of season.

And so I read the third chapter of Matthew. In this chapter, John the Baptist baptizes scores of people, and, toward the end of the chapter, Jesus himself. Among the earlier group of people approaching were Pharisees and Sadducees. John the Baptist tells them that there salvation does not depend, as they appear to think, upon their lineage but upon their repentance, something that they seem unable to grasp.

Reading: Matthew 3

Meditation: I think sometimes we miss the meaning in this passage. I know that I often have to remind myself of it. In today's terms, it does not matter that we are Christian (our lineage) -- and for that matter, at the risk of inviting disagreement, I would add that it does not matter what religion we adhere to -- for our salvation. It matters that we repent of those things that take us away from God, from those things we (and God) call sins.

Sometimes those things, especially the little things, are so tempting. To close our ears when God is asking us to do something we would rather not do. To close our eyes when someone in need is put in front of us and we are too busy or don't have the resources (we think) to help. To keep our lips sealed when just a kind word would help a child of God in some way. To harden our hearts rather than open them to God when it might be inconvenient.

I imagine I am not the only one who gives in to these temptations. Thank God for the grace that forgives me again and again, when I cry in repentance for forgiveness. Thank God for the kindness that leads me back to the path from which I have strayed. (Oh, I can see the Sadducees and Pharisees in myself at times. I don't like seeing that, but perhaps it is the frailty of being human.)

Contemplation: That is far as I can go with you this Monday morning/afternoon. I now retire to private prayer to praise God for His boundless grace. I will, of course, also ask God to help me to avoid those sweet little temptations that lead me into sin, and I will repent for each time I have strayed. As always,  I will thank God for each and every tender mercy in this regard. Then I will move on to contemplation, my favorite part of the day, letting God take over the direction in which my relationship with Him moves.

I will leave you now to your prayer and contemplation. First, though, I would like to bring to your attention a Monday morning prayer post that you might enjoy:

Fr. Austin Fleming, priest of the Archdiocese of Boston and pastor in Concord, Massachusetts, posts a prayer each Monday morning that he calls "Monday Morning Offering." I enjoy his prayers very much. I think you also will find them inspirational. He has graciously given me permission to include a link to his blog on my Monday Morning Meditation posts. (During the week, he also posts great homilies and other thoughtful discussions. I enjoy reading those, too, as do readers of this blog who have taken the stroll over to his blog.)

For additional inspiration throughout the week, I would point out two sets of blogs: (1) the list of devotional blogs on my sidebar and (2) my blogroll, where I am following a number of inspirational priests and writers about spiritual matters. I learn so very much from all these people. I highly recommend them to you.

"Take Him Home"

I picked up Doah, my mentally challenged youngest son, at his group home yesterday evening for the Easter vigil at Old Mission Church here in San Ignatio. It is always a beautiful service with the lighting of the paschal candle from the fire pit by the garden and then the lighting of everyone's candles from the paschal candle. It is an evening of hope and expectation, a movement from dark into light. So much symbolism in one Mass!

Doah looked forward to it because his friend, Bennie, would be there. Bennie is one of my friends who has adopted a mentor/father attitude toward Doah, always ready to talk to him, taking him fishing, and hanging out with him at times. Doah adores Bennie and loves sitting with him at the mission. Doah could hardly wait for the evening to arrive.

So, decked out appropriate, Doah and I arrived promptly at the mission at the starting hour. The church was quite filled, but Doah easily found Bennie and slipped in beside him. Then we all exited for the beginning of the Mass around the fire pit. After our candles were lit, we paraded back inside and listened to the opening music and readings.

As I sat, listening and enjoying this once-a-year-only Mass, Doah slid into the pew beside me. His eyes were watery.

"Mom," he said, "I can't stay. I am allergic to the church."

We had experienced this before. The mission is 200+ years old, and Doah is allergic to mold. There are times that it seems that mold must be getting into the air. At the end of a week that had seen some rain in our normally near-drought, could-easily-become-desert area it was not surprising that perhaps more mold than usual was breaking out into the air.

"Shh," I told Doah. "Wait a few minutes and see if it the problem passes. Don't rub your eyes; just wait and see if they clear up." I did not have much hope that he would get better, but it was worth a little wait, anyway, or so I thought.

No sooner had Doah disappeared toward the front of the church -- I was farther back -- to rejoin Bennie than I heard that Voice I have come to trust and obey say, "Take him home."

When Doah popped up beside me just a few minutes later, still with red, watery eyes, and complained that he was not getting any better, I did as I had been told. I took him home.

Once we were in the outside cooler air, Doah's eyes cleared up. I could have called Donnie to pick us up, but the night was clear, cool (but not cold), and just the right place to spend some time walking together with Doah in the presence of God. (One immediately feels God's presence anywhere in San Ignatio.) And so Doah and I walked all the way home, about a mile or less (never have measured the distance from our home on the hill to the mission in the valley), mostly in silence, mostly in worship, our own little worship service.

How kind is God, I thought! He gave us an alternative way of spending Easter vigil and one in which we were as close to Him as we would have been had we stayed for the entire Mass. Clearly, worship is not about ritual, it is about relationship. And that was made clear in the words, "Take him home." Taking Doah home was not about walking away from God but rather about walking with God. It was a very good Easter vigil yesterday after all.