Prayer Archives - Amazing Catechists

Passive Waiting and Suffering Well

We established that no one likes to wait and that a small fraction of our waiting experiences is what we term active, or Advent waiting. What, then, comprises the majority of those periods of life when we linger in tension, when we are in between or feeling stuck or lost?

Passive waiting is when we move from a place of knowing specifically that God will complete some good work He has begun in us to becoming entirely unaware and uncertain of what He is doing or asking of us. We move from subject to object in passive waiting. For example, if you are late to work and get stuck in the midst of unexpected construction, you are experiencing passive waiting. If you just had a biopsy and have to spent an agonizing week not knowing if you have cancer or not, you are in passive waiting.

These times when waiting is painful, when we do not choose to suffer, is precisely what makes life worthwhile. It’s not because of the suffering itself; it is because of what Passion gives birth to, that is, Resurrection. We know that suffering is not the end and that our tragedies can bring about beautiful blessings. But how do we understand passive waiting so that we can learn to suffer well, or at least better?

The Gift of Helplessness and Dependency

Maybe you or someone you know has recently become injured or suffered an accident that left him/her incapacitated. Maybe you have fallen ill with a terrible malady and simply cannot keep up your active lifestyle anymore. Maybe you are disabled.

These are all examples of the helpless state, whether temporary or permanent. And when we can’t move around like we’re used to – going to work, doing household chores, taking care of our families – we feel guilty, as if we are a burden. But God shows us the hidden gift of helplessness, because He deliberately sent His Son as an infant totally dependent on His Mother’s love and nourishment:

The popular imagination discerns nothing in God: no dependence, no waiting, no exposure, nothing of passion or passibility…and therefore, when these conditions appear in the life of man, they must appear fundamentally ‘ungodlike;’ and therefore again they must appear alien to the proper status of man and unworthy of his unique dignity. (W.H. Vanstone quote from Waiting with Purpose, p. 87)

So when you find yourself in a helpless state, know that you are not alone and that God longs to reach you in your suffering.

Preparing for Mission

When we suffer, we gain wisdom and life experience that cannot be replicated by books or rhetoric. Our experiences, then, shape us fundamentally. They make us stronger, more compassionate, and resilient. Even more, they lead us to mission.

You probably didn’t ask for your sickness or your child’s disability or your spouse’s Alzheimer’s. You didn’t want to lose a friend to addiction or a parent to cancer. Yet all of these atrocities can lead us to accompany others who are suffering similar afflictions. We are more equipped to handle their pain when we have already been through our own journey of grief.

Entering Your Resurrection

I learned something extraordinary while researching my book, Waiting with Purpose: all of the Greek verbs used to describe Jesus’ life and ministry were in the active tense until He was handed over in the Garden of Gethsemane. He spoke to His apostles at the Last Supper, “My work is finished” but immediately before expiring, “It is finished.” These are powerful examples of how working isn’t the be-all-end-all to life’s meaning and value.

Your true work is to suffer with Jesus and learn to suffer well. This doesn’t mean perfectly – just well. That means you will have moments when offering up your pain in solidarity with Jesus’ or someone else’s pain is effortless and other times when it’s impossible. The point is to keep moving forward in your own passion, knowing with confidence that your own Calvary journey will lead you to new life in Resurrection, whether in this life or the next.

This post was adapted from Chapter 6 in my book, Waiting with Purpose: Persevering When God Says “Not Yet.”

The Joy of Expectant Waiting

By Jeannie Ewing

There are so many beautiful words to describe active waiting: expectancy, joy, pregnancy, anticipation. It’s what we tend to experience during the Advent season. Active waiting (also called Advent or expectant waiting) evokes incredible hope in us, because we are on the cusp of watching how God’s plan unfolds for a specific promise.

A few points pertaining to this type of waiting will guide us as we move through our own journey. Think of the popular song, “I Wonder As I Wander” for this type of expectancy. A seed has been planted. Its in the germination stage right now, and what is required of you is to be vigilant and patience until the time of flourishing – which God determines – arrives.

We Wait In Community

Let’s look to a beautiful example of expectant waiting – the Visitation. What did the Blessed Mother do as soon as she heard the news of Elizabeth’s pregnancy and after she accepted the invitation to bear the Son of God? She went in haste to share this joy with her cousin! They were both pregnant with a promise, so they gathered together in friendship, in community, to allow the seed of human life to grow within them.

When we wait in joyful anticipation, we remember that ‘nothing is impossible for God.’ (Waiting with Purpose, p. 47)

Have Confidence in God’s Promise

One of my favorite saints-to-be is Blessed Solanus Casey. He is well known for his famous quip, “Thank God ahead of time.” What does this mean for us when we are waiting – often with a certain amount of restlessness or tension – for new birth, new life, or a new phase of life to begin? We focus on who God is and all He has already accomplished in our lives. It’s important to thank God for all that He has done, is doing, and will do for us. That’s what expectant faith is – it’s faith that is confident in God.

We know He will act, and we pray accordingly – with expectation of answered prayer.

Expect to Move from Community to Contemplation

God often prepares us for a particular mission in cycles and seasons. We know this from our waiting experiences that somehow give way to seasons of activity and then back to dormancy. If expectant faith relies upon our lives in relationship, then we know we are being formed by those to whom we are closest – family, friends, neighbors, co-workers, spouses, children.

The people who live with us see us at our best and worst. They might draw out specific flaws or weaknesses – tendencies toward impatience, for example. As we enter into prayer each day, God reflects this reality to us so that we might allow Him to further chisel away the imperfections that deter us from spiritually advancing.

Then, one day, or perhaps gradually, we will move from a stage of activity to the desert. Community tends to precede contemplation, in that God draws us – whether quite literally (as in the case of an anchoress or hermit) or interiorly – into a more reflective state of solitude. It is during our time in the desert when God guides us more directly, though we cannot see or feel much of anything.

We wait – always in joyful hope – whether in community or contemplation.

This post was adapted from Chapter 3 in my book, Waiting with Purpose: Persevering When God Says “Not Yet.”

Five Steps for Mentoring Kids in Prayer

By Brandon Harvey

It is important to teach kids how to pray the Rosary, the Angelus, and other common Catholic Prayers. These should be taught in the home, but sometimes the Catechist is called to help. One of the most terrifying things you can do in the classroom is to ask a child to lead prayer. Yet, we can easily teach our children how to lead prayer in the classroom. These steps can be used with kids as young as five.

Step 1: The Catechist is the Prayer Mentor

The catechist needs to be a person of deep prayer and be the example of prayer for the class. The opening prayer for each class should always be done by the Catechist. This sets the tone. Even if you want to practice a specific prayer with them, you can still offer a spontaneous prayer and conclude with your memorized prayer.

Step 2: Mentor with Short Prayers

In the beginning, it is important to lead prayers that are easy for a child to recognize a pattern and imitate. For example: O God, thank you for this day and help our class to know you better. We ask this through Jesus. Amen.

Step 3: Just Get Started

Do not wait for a magical moment to begin having the kids pray. Have one or all of your kids offer a closing prayer at the end of class. Encourage them to close their eyes, fold their hands in prayer, and imitate the opening prayer.

Step 4: Teach Prayer as a Response

Kids should learn to incorporate the class in their closing prayer. I call this “Responsory Prayer” for my students. We pick something from the class or Mass that we could hear or see God at work in and incorporate this into our individual prayer. I ask all my students to say a Responsory Prayer at the end of class. I go first and set the example.

Here is an example of prayers my students recently made when learning about the Immaculate Mary hymn as we created Psalters for each kid.

Dear God, thank you for this day, help me to have self-control, and help me to have virtue like Mary. Amen.
Dear God, thank you for this day and help me to love Mary.

These prayers were offered by small children. You can see how they are similar, simple, and incorporate something from the class that day.

Step 5: Challenge Them

Challenge the students to grow beyond the simple prayers of comfort. In the beginning, small children and teens both tend to stick with personal petitions and personal thanksgiving. Place a jar in your room with different types of prayer. Ask each student to draw one and incorporate it into their closing or Responsory Prayer. Examples could include:

Give THANKS for something in someone else’s life.
PETITION (ask) God for something for someone else.
ADORE God as God.
PRAISE God for the work of creation or redemption or some manifestation of God’s work in your life.

Spontaneous prayer forces a student to unite their mind and voice. Hopefully we can also mentor them in the use of their heart. There is no hiding in spontaneous prayer, and there is no mindless routine. When memorized prayers and devotions are introduced in class, the students will now have a firmer foundation for praying the prayer and not simply the saying of the prayer.

Jesus’ Missionary Healers

By Maureen Smith

A few years ago, as I was ushering my 3rd grade Sunday School class to our annual Advent confession day, I reminded them that Jesus was present in the Tabernacle. One of the girls repeated the word “Tabernacle” several times, as if chewing on the word, before proclaiming, “Tabernacle…that’s my favorite word!” It became the word that grounded us when lessons about the Trinity and Church teaching somehow became a weekly update about everyone’s pets. The Tabernacle was our anchor, and each class I reminded them that Jesus was present in that gold box called a Tabernacle whenever they saw that red sanctuary candle lit.

As our Church grapples with the sorrows of the past few months, I feel buoyed up by this memory. It reminds me that our Church is made of much more than the few people who have led us to disappointment and doubt, and I feel emboldened to pray the Creed. Yes, Lord I believe in One God…

I believe that there is a power in being a broken Church. Certainly the Apostles, who felt the corruption and blasphemy of the leaders of their faith at the Church’s very beginnings, must have felt similar emotions. Who can I trust? Is the Lord really present in this Church? Is it worth staying?

Years ago, when I lived in Rome, my parish was Sancta Maria in Trastevere. In the early Church, the taverns, which occupied the Church’s current location, became the very place where the Gospel was spread and hearts were converted to Christ. This bit of history reminds me that the Gospel is not meant to be experienced solely within the confines of the physical church building, and that Jesus Christ is not meant to be kept on reserve in the Tabernacle like a book in a library. Rather, we are all, priest and parishioner alike, meant to proclaim that Gospel and bring that Presence of Christ wherever we go. We are both Tabernacle and sanctuary candle, alive with Christ, present within us, and aflame with the joy of Love Incarnate.

A few years ago, the Holy Father challenged us to be “Missionary Disciples.” I think that, particularly now, we must also be Missionary Healers. Every person is wounded, even (and perhaps most especially) the wound-er. We must accept into our hearts the broken, those who feel alone and rejected. We must give them a resting place in our hearts so that they can experience the warmth of Christ’s Presence in our hearts. Often it is in this moment of mercy that I recognize He is really there.

The world is cold and dark, but His Presence is still aflame, even if it feels like the dying embers of a once roaring fire. The fact remains that light is more powerful than darkness. Even in the darkness we have the moon and stars for light, just as we have Our Lady and the saints (and each other!), giving us hope, pointing us to the sun we cannot see.

We must have faith even when those who promise to lead us go astray, and remain strong in our defense of Christ and His Church, even when our offense fails. We must pray for our leaders, our parish priests who are on the front lines, the offensive line, if you will, taking the hits even when the quarterback fumbles. We are the defense and special teams! We must support our faithful offense, the clergy, who lead us to closer to the endzone, to our Heavenly goal, to become saints in God’s kingdom.

Only God knows the trajectory of our Church. It is my hope, however, that this horrific experience will generate saints of all states of life. Our faith is stronger than sin, as it is made of the very Presence of Christ in our hearts, so long as we let Him remain there. We are living Tabernacles, charged with bringing healing to our broken world. Together we can rebuild His Church, a mission not unique to Saint Francis.

I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge that each of us is broken, wounded by sin, others, and the fallen world in which we live. To all of you, let Christ heal you! He accepts you, as broken as you are. You are never too broken for God.

When you find yourself feeling lost remember the anchor. You are a Tabernacle, Jesus Christ is with you, and you have a mission. Our Church will never crumble because Christ is truly present in our sanctuaries, in our hearts, and in those of countless other Christians. Wherever you are, at home or in your car, at work or school, in a bar or a tavern, you are a Missionary Healer, because you are His and He is yours.

Fasting 101: My Experience Over the Last Six Weeks

By Amanda Woodiel

A reader, referring back to a post from a couple of months ago, asked me if I had actually done anything to implement a weekday fast so that Sunday could be a feast day without being gluttonous.

And, wonder of wonders, I have!

So often the noble percolates in my head, and it takes months (maybe even years!) to materialize in my everyday life. But this time, thanks to several different threads coming together and by God’s grace, I have actually implemented a weekday fasting schedule.

Most days I fast from dinner until dinner. This is called intermittent fasting. (If you want to learn more about intermittent and extended fasting from a medical, physiological point of view, read The Complete Guide to Fasting by Dr. Jason Fung.) Several years ago, my trim chiropractor mentioned that this is how he eats, and I thought he was completely nuts. In truth, it is really not so radical (humans have been fasting and feasting since time immemorial) or so difficult (I found that anticipation of how hard it will be is way worse than the reality).

I have been fasting now for over six weeks. I don’t fast on Sundays or on feast days. The first big feast day since I began this practice was the Feast of the Assumption, and it really felt like a feast! After breakfast, I took the kids to a local bakery and relished a pecan sticky bun. For lunch, I put sugar in my coffee. And for dinner I ate take-out pizza. It was awesome, and it was awesome without being gluttonous. It felt like true feasting.

So how do I feel while fasting?

Mostly I feel great. The hunger comes occasionally, but as I had read, it comes in waves. If you make it through the wave of hunger, the feeling goes away and stays away for a couple of hours. So for me it’s about an hour of feeling hunger around lunchtime, and then I am fine until dinner, and even then, I don’t feel that hungry. I have done two 44-hour fasts, and those were only marginally more difficult than my usual routine.

I have felt far less lethargic than I have in a long time and have more energy than usual. I even tackled cleaning our basement (a cellar-style storage space), which is a project I have ignored for over a decade.

Overall, I have simply enjoyed food more than ever. The daily meal tastes so good and is such a delight; I feel like I have re-discovered the joy of food. It feels like the way God probably designed food to be consumed: I feel hungry when I eat, and I’m not just shoving it into my body because I want it or because it’s there or because I am feeling a negative emotion.

I should also mention that there have been surprising practical benefits. I find I have about an extra four hours per week (the time that would have been spent preparing and eating my own breakfasts and lunches throughout the week). I am spending less money. While I wouldn’t say these would personally be reasons enough to motivate me to fast, they have been pleasant advantages.

There is a spiritual side of fasting too. One of the main reasons why I fast is because I felt that food had power over me in a way that it shouldn’t. I was cranky when I didn’t eat. I thought about how to reward myself with food. I turned to food when sad or stressed. I ate too much of certain foods just because I wanted to. Intuitively, I knew that that part of my life was not properly ordered. If you are in a similar situation, you might enjoy taking a little food attachment quiz I created when I was deep in exploring my own disordered attachment to food.

Jesus presumed we would be fasting. “When you fast,” He said (see Matthew 6:16). I know so little about the power of fasting, as I am so new to it. But I can say that it has already induced some sense of detachment from the things of the world. Like all Christian spiritual practices, such as prayer and alms-giving, fasting molds the soul into the way of holiness.

Fasting also has always been a way of showing remorse for our own sins and a way to make reparation for the sins of others. I am tempted to think that because I am doing it for my physical and spiritual health, it cannot also be “applied” as a prayer. Nonsense! Think of the Holy Mass, when we pray “May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of His name, for our good, and the good of all his holy church.” If the Mass itself can be said for God’s glory as well as for ourselves as well as for the entire church, well, then so can our small acts of fasting. Offer your sacrifice to God for His glory, your own good, and the good of the whole world.

If you feel out of control regarding food, want to re-discover a spiritual practice that has been around for thousands of years, and/or desire to create a rhythm in your family life that accords with the liturgical year, I encourage you to try fasting! It is changing my life.

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The Forgotten Victims of Clerical Abuse

By Ellen Gable Hrkach

“He heals the wounds of every shattered heart.” Psalm 147:3

The recent revelations about Cardinal (now Archbishop) McCarrick, and the newly published Grand Jury report from several dioceses in Pennsylvania, are disturbing, especially to the most devout Catholics. Some members of the Church are leaving in disgust. I haven’t yet read the PA Grand Jury report, but from what I can gather through social media, it will take someone with a strong stomach to endure the entire document.

For every abuse that was reported, there are hundreds, maybe thousands over the past 70 years, that were not – and have never been – reported.

The most recent announcement that homosexual networks existed within seminaries and dioceses has caused some Catholics to have a crisis of faith because numerous seminarians tried to alert higher-up prelates, to no avail. It’s unacceptable that a bishop – or as in the case of McCarrick, the cardinal – would be complicit. Pope Francis has now made a public statement promising justice for the victims. There are many victims, however, who will never see justice.

Whenever I hear a story about clerical sex abuse, it opens a wound, not only because I’m Catholic, but because my father was abused many years ago. He is one of many who never reported the (likely ongoing) abuse.

Summer, 1961, visiting my father at the psychiatric hospital

My father’s abuser was indeed a priest, who happened to be one of his teachers in high school. This information was something that my siblings and I didn’t find out until after my father died in 1978 as he had only told my mother about the abuse.

Back in the 1940’s, priests were placed on a pedestal. My father couldn’t go to his parents or other teachers or anyone because he was ashamed, and he didn’t think anyone would believe him. At the time, my father was discerning the priesthood. To say the abuse confused him is an understatement. I can’t imagine having to attend school and see your abuser every day and not be able to say anything.

Dad later met and married my mom and tried to settle down into married life. But his troubles were far from over. He dealt with depression and other mental illness on and off for a few years before he had a mental breakdown in 1961 and was committed to the local psychiatric hospital. I remember visiting him there and, despite the odd surroundings, I was always happy to see my dad.

He was eventually diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia and manic depression (now called bipolar disease) and was prescribed a regimen of medication.

My dad continued to battle with mental illness for the rest of his life. He eventually became an alcoholic and died tragically at the age of 49. His life ended not unlike many of the thousands of other abuse victims.

It wasn’t easy to lose my father. He was only 49. But the first time I saw him in the casket after he had passed away, he looked more at peace than I could ever remember. I felt confident that God would take care of him.

When I first found out my own father had been abused, I was angry. I wanted to strangle the priest who traumatized him.

There are many like my father out there, some living, and some already deceased, who are/were unknown victims of clerical abuse.

But we as a family were (are) victims too. As a family, we watched my father’s struggles and suffering. We watched him go through drunken stupors and depressive episodes. We watched him get on and fall off the wagon too many times to count. It wasn’t unusual for him to break down and cry. I know that there are many factors that cause someone to have a mental breakdown or become an alcoholic, but I believe the abuse contributed substantially to his ongoing despair.

So with the recent allegations, what is the way forward? First, I’d like pass on encouragement to the many faithful and virtuous priests with the words of Dr. Janet Smith when she said: “To all you wonderful, faithful, chaste, devout, self-giving priests out there, my heart goes out to you. Thank you for answering the call and thank you for staying. The temptation to leave will be great. Please stay. We need you now more than ever. And please know I am praying ardently for you!”

Second, many of the links below give detailed ways the Church can move forward. One thing is for certain: leaving the Church is not an option.

Did my father ever leave the Church of his youth? No.

Following his example, I will do the same. Why? Because my faith is not dependent on the pope, any priest or any human being. I’m Catholic and will remain so because of the Eucharist, because of Jesus Christ and because I believe God’s Word. My faith also tells me I must forgive: the priest who abused my father, anyone who tried to cover it up, and any past and present priests, bishops and cardinals who have been guilty of any wrongdoing.

As Frank Sheed said in the early 60’s: “We are not baptized into the hierarchy; do not receive the Cardinals sacramentally; will not spend an eternity in the beatific vision of the pope. Christ is the point. I, myself, admire the present pope (Paul VI), but even if I criticized him as harshly as some do, even if his successor proved to be as bad as some of those who have gone before, even if I find the church, as I have to live with it, a pain in the neck, I should still say that nothing that a pope (or a priest, Bishop, Cardinal) could do or say would make me wish to leave the church, although I might well wish that they would leave.”

And there is always hope. I believe very much what Fr. Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI) predicted in 1969: “From the crisis of today the Church of tomorrow will emerge — a Church that has lost much. She will become small and will have to start afresh more or less from the beginning. She will no longer be able to inhabit many of the edifices she built in prosperity. It will be hard going for the Church, for the process of crystallization and clarification will cost her much valuable energy. It will make her poor and cause her to become the Church of the meek… But when the trial of this sifting is past, a great power will flow from a more spiritualized and simplified Church.”

As we pray and make reparation in the days ahead, I ask you to pray for all those forgotten victims (like my father) who never reported the abuse, and for all families of abuse victims.

Let’s continue to pray and fast for all victims and their extended families. As much as we yearn for a renewal of the Church and the defrocking of any cleric who chooses not to live a chaste priesthood, let us also continue to pray and fast for the conversion of the abusers. As difficult as it is, we are called to forgive.

Read more about the Grand Jury report here.

Read more about the homosexual subculture in the Church.

Healing After Grief Through Divine Mercy

By Jeannie Ewing

By now, most of us have been inundated with information about the Divine Mercy devotion popularized through St. Faustina’s Diary. But have we learned about how divine mercy itself aids us through grief as a healing balm for our wounds? Probably not.

It’s easy to take care of yourself in the immediate aftermath of loss: you make sure you are fed, clean, and get adequate rest. You drink enough water. You might take a walk or sit down to read a book. But what about the condition of your soul? Certainly we are a composite of mind, body, and soul, which are all intricately interconnected.

But we cannot neglect our souls. In fact, I strongly believe that, when we don’t face our deepest inner turmoil from a spiritual perspective, we will not ever be completely healed.

How does divine mercy give us the grace to experience lasting peace and permanent healing? I am not implying that grace alone will solve all of your suffering, nor that it’s not important – necessary at times, even – to seek medical or professional help in addition to turning to your faith. What I am saying is that if you truly wish to be deeply healed, you simply cannot overlook the value of sacramental grace.

Here is a way for you to understand how divine mercy plays an integral role in grief healing:

Divine mercy is the only means by which we can be fully restored and made whole after we have incurred grave losses. It’s not His obligation, but He cannot deny us this because of love. Mercy is the way God reaches our torn and tattered hearts after betrayals and breakups (p. 125 in my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph).

If you need some practical ways to experience the power of Divine Mercy, start with these:

Frequent the Sacrament of Mercy – Reconciliation. Better yet, frequent the Sacraments of Healing together – Reconciliation and the Eucharist.
Read about God’s incredible mercy in the Psalms.
Pray to St. Faustina for a deeper understanding of how much God’s love envelops you in your pain.
Offer your misery to Jesus as a gift. His mercy will transform your heart.
Be merciful to both yourself and others. This means being more patient and kinder than necessary. Remember the quote, “Be kinder than necessary. Everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle”? Keep that in mind regarding the message of mercy.
Practice the Corporal and Spiritual Works of Mercy. Pray about which one or two God is inviting you to try rather than committing to all of them. Base your selection on your specific gifts, talents, personality, lifestyle, and the time you have.

Consider this quote from the Diary of St. Faustina (no. 1273). Read it as if Jesus is speaking directly to your heart. Ponder it throughout the week. Ask the Lord to reveal to you what it means for your particular cross right now:

There is no misery that could be a match for My mercy, neither will misery exhaust it, because as it is being granted, it increases. The soul that trusts in My mercy is most fortunate, because I Myself take care of it.

Friends, faith alone will not solve all of your ills. Neither, though, will prescriptions and therapy. Remember that your soul is the center, the wellspring of your existence. From it flows the Spring of Eternal Life. Access this spring so that you might discover true and lasting healing through mercy, as well as the other ways you care for your health.

I believe if we “seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness,” then truly “all these things will be given to you besides” (see Matthew 6:33).

Adapted from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

We Call This Friday Good

By Amanda Woodiel

I have a friend who moved to the United States some twenty years ago. Although she speaks the language fluently, she hasn’t quite lost her accent, and a colloquialism will occasionally still mystify her. That’s how I am with the Catholic church. Twelve years ago I came into the Church as a young woman. Though I feel at home here, I still stumble upon meditations that strike me as so strange that I realize I am a foreigner.

This was the first Lent since I started praying a daily Rosary, and somewhere along the way it was suggested to me that I pray only the sorrowful mysteries in Lent (except Sundays). So day after day I have meditated on the Agony, the Scourging, the Crowning with Thorns, the Carrying of the Cross, and the Crucifixion.

What has jumped out at me is the juxtaposition of these mysteries with the phrase of the Hail Mary: “Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.”

Blessed are thou among women….said again and again as I contemplated His agony, His body slick with bloody sweat, His face in the dirt he made.

Blessed art thou among women…as I contemplated the whips tearing at his flesh, furious lashes that end only when his executioners have worn themselves out from the effort.

Blessed art thou among women…as I saw her Son humiliated, scorned, spat upon, and struck repeatedly so that the thorns of the grotesque crown impale his head.

Blessed art thou among women…as I watched Our Lady watch her son’s battered, mutilated body stumble under the weight of the cross, a spectacle to the indifferent and an abomination to the contemptuous.

Blessed art thou among women…as she stands by Him crucified, witness to His struggle to breathe, His enduring of the unfathomable torture.

Blessed is she? Blessed? What mom dreams of the day when she will stand beside her son while he is tortured? On the face of it, it seems like a mockery to repeat this over fifty times in the face of His Passion. At any rate, it is a jarring enough paradox that it gave me pause. I knew then that I am still not a native to the church.

Forty days’ meditation gave me time to reflect. That she is blessed, I believe. So, as in so many teachings of the church that I didn’t immediately grasp, it was time to dig deeper.

How can it be that Our Lady is blessed in these days of Holy Week?

We see the world upside down, so writes Father Michael Scanlan in his book Let the Fire Fall. I believe that Mary’s blessedness in the face of the Passion is the right-side-up way to view it. I need to adjust my vision.

As in so many things, I was looking at the Passion in primarily the physical sense. Material being that I am, this body is so present to me that it usually constitutes my first consideration. But what if I were to look at the Passion in primarily spiritual terms? What if I thought about it as Fr John Riccardo presents it in his meditation on the Rosary (found here)–as the world’s greatest athlete gearing up for the single most important competition in history? What if I saw the spiritual implications of the Passion first–Jesus about to save the world from the rule of Satan?

Here, Jesus, though he looks like the defeated, is actually victorious, for he, as a priest said in a meditation I once went to, had enticed the devil to do the one thing the devil could not do–kill God Himself. It was a chess match, and while it looked as though the King had been taken, he had actually set a trap that would end in checkmate against his opponent. It was a daring, heroic, stupendous, awe-some, all-in kind of plan.

Did Our Lady understand the Passion on the spiritual level–as a supernatural match for which the prize was the human soul? Spouse of the Holy Spirit, the woman who will crush the serpent under her heel, the mother of God, I imagine she herself very well may have undergone severe temptations and wrestling with the devil in her own hidden life. She must have been clued into the spiritual realm of the Passion, even if she did not fully know what would happen three days hence.

Blessed indeed was she! She saw her son undergo bodily torture, yes, but through that, she saw him win the war. She saw him, fully human as well as fully God, not recoil from the agony of body and soul but instead stand victorious in the redemption of our human nature.

That one there is my son. The one who is wrestling all of the powers of hell but who stands–bloody, yes–but triumphant. That’s my boy–the one who whose suffering gives historic and eternal witness to the profound love of God. That one hanging there is mine, the one who is willingly giving his very life to save the eternal souls of the human race. Jesus is my son. I am blessed.

What is Grief?

By Jeannie Ewing

Popular counselors tend to affirm the common definition of grief in our western culture: that it is a period of designated mourning following the death of a loved one. While this is certainly true, it is a narrow and limited understanding of what grief encompasses. Perhaps that’s why it’s so hard for most of us to recognize when we are grieving.

What I have learned, both from personal experience and in my professional background, is that grief includes any significant and devastating loss. This could be the death of your beloved pet; the sudden loss of your job; a child born with a genetic condition or disability (as in our case); a spouse who has left you; caring for an elderly parent who is suffering from dementia; struggling in the aftermath of sexual assault; recovering from PTSD as a military veteran; making ends meet as a single mother; healing after abortion; hidden sorrow from a miscarriage or stillbirth.

There are countless life circumstances that trigger our grief experiences. This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it does help to get us thinking – or rethinking – about what grief is and how it affects us when life goes in a direction other than what we’d imagined.

Here are some points to remember when you are grieving:

Any loss that is significant in your life can cause grief. You might feel sad, lost, lonely, or angry. These are some of the normal feelings associated with loss.
Change can provoke a sense of loss, too. Every change in life – moving, having a baby, getting a new job – entails both good and bad, the possibilities of what is in store as well as the loss of what is left behind.
There is no timeline for grief! Despite what others may believe, or what you might also think, grief happens on its own terms. You can neither predict nor hasten how you will experience grief.
Be gentle and patient with yourself when you are grieving. There will be days or weeks that seem more “normal” to you, but you may have what you feel are setbacks – moments of frustration, longing for what once was and is no longer, a crying spell after hearing a song.
Grief involves physical and emotional changes in your life, but don’t neglect the spiritual dimension of grief. Our faith tells us that suffering is not lost upon God when we hand it to Him with humility and sincerity. Suffering is redemptive in this way.
Find ways to process your pain. For some, this includes journaling memories or perhaps creating visual art. For others, it might be taking a walk, talking to a trusted friend or pastor, Eucharistic Adoration.

My hope is that we will shift our focus from eschewing suffering to embracing it. A wonderful devotion for those who are suffering is the Divine Mercy chaplet and novena. We would all do well to extend mercy to ourselves and others who are grieving a loss.

(Note: I will include a separate post about Divine Mercy related to grief at a later date.)

Paraphrased from my book, From Grief to Grace: The Journey from Tragedy to Triumph.

Learning to Live with Mystery

By Amanda Woodiel

The Christian worldview is chock full of mystery. How Jesus is both true God and true Man; how God is Three Persons but One Substance; how Jesus comes to us–body, blood, soul, and divinity–under the appearances of bread and wine: these are some of the great mysteries of our faith. We are steeped in these mysteries, and we are comfortable (for the most part) that our finite minds cannot fully comprehend the greatness of God. After all, some say, how much of a god is a God who is completely understood?

The mysteries of each other, however–those mysteries engender more discomfort. Whenever we hear of a tragedy intentionally perpetrated, the first question is usually “Why?” Why would someone do that? We seek to understand, because somehow understanding brings with it some measure of comfort.

But what if we can’t understand? And what if the mystery is closer to our own hearts: someone close to us who has hurt us unimaginably? When we try to sort out “why?” or “how could he?”–well, that mystery is almost unbearable.

I had always held closely a hope that when my father died, the mystery of his activities and his intentions would be solved. He passed away recently, and along with the grief of losing a parent and the shock of its suddenness, comes the grief that the mystery–instead of being revealed–has instead become more clouded and more strange.

What do we do when we must live with the mysteries of a human soul that we cannot penetrate? Clearly, I will not know more about my father’s thoughts, motivations, or activities in this life. The pieces simply don’t fit together no matter how many times I have turned them over in my mind.

When a painful mystery of life so presses upon our minds and hearts that it feels like murky waters poised to engulf us, it seems to me that we have two options. We can struggle against it, flailing our limbs in an attempt to stay upright. We can try to analyze the mystery and expend untold energy and time trying to unravel events, sort out truth, and understand the motivations of another’s heart.

Sometimes, though, we simply can’t fathom the answer. In that event, not all is lost, for we can learn to float. We can submit to our human nature. The fact is, we were not made to know all–certainly not the workings that lie at the bottom of another’s soul. We can adopt a posture of humility and lie peacefully atop the surface of the water. One way saps strength; the other preserves it. One keeps our eyes fixed on the sphere below; the other trains our eyes toward heaven.

Fortunately, truth isn’t only a set of facts but is a Person. I can choose to rest in Truth, who is Jesus Christ. Here I accept the finite nature of my human mind and yield to the God who is infinite but who loves me so completely that he came to me in history and comes to me in the Mass. I don’t understand the mystery of my father, but He does. Furthermore, if it were to my soul’s good that I unravel the mystery surrounding my dad, He would show it to me. He hasn’t yet. He might one day, but today and all days, I can rest in utter assurance that not knowing must be for my best.

When you encounter a mystery in life that cannot be solved–learn to float. You might catch a glimpse of heaven.