Lumen Orationis

The light of prayer. As we enter Holy Week, we are given the opportunity to escape the rhythm of our lives on earth and to turn to the promise of life everlasting. Prayer is a tool that we use to consider our own experience in light of the divine life. Through Christian forms of prayer such as mediation and contemplation, we let go of worldly cares and place ourselves in the presence of God. Although these forms of prayer are different, they both offer the same reward: to become like Christ. Despite the invaluable treasure of a life spent imitating Christ, we are confronted with the reality that prayer is difficult. Bearing in mind this reality, we are called to practice meditation and contemplation, thus opening  ourselves to divine life.

According to the Catechism, "meditation is above all quiet" (1). In this silence, we cast aside the cares of the world and shift our focus to the spiritual. During meditation, "the mind seeks to understand the why and how of the Christian life, in order to adhere and respond to what the Lord is asking" (1). The goal of Christian mediation is not to sit and try to think about nothing. Instead, Christian meditation calls us to set our focus on spiritual matters and to continue to return to this focus in the midst of distraction. Whether we are reading the Gospels or a spiritual book, meditation invites us to a personal encounter with our Lord. We may use our imagination to envision ourselves in a scene from scripture, or we may think deeply about a spiritual truth in meditation by relating this concept to our lives.

Meditative prayer is often active, utilizing imagination as well as introspection in order to relate truth to our own experience. Contemplative prayer differs from meditation in that during contemplative prayer, "our attention is fixed on the Lord Himself" (2). While the mechanics may seem simpler than meditative prayer, contemplation can be far more difficult as we are called to ponder God Himself and our relationship to Him. Contemplative prayer is seeing God as He is and seeking to understand our place in relation to Him. I find contemplative prayer to be the most humbling and rewarding type of prayer. Humbling, because I am weak and constantly fail to keep my focus on our Lord. Rewarding, because when I am able to maintain this focus, even if only momentarily, I can experience the Father's infinite power and love alongside my brokenness.

Meditation and contemplation are essential elements of a soul that is equipped to reach heaven. How else will we see God unless we can understand our own weakness while also knowing, loving, and accepting His infinite power, love, and mercy? These forms of prayer allow us to offer our lives to God. Through prayer, we "hand ourselves over, as an offering to be purified and transformed" (3). By giving ourselves completely to God in prayer, we immerse ourselves in the ocean of God's transforming grace.

It is not easy to pray. We have to constantly battle against the world, the flesh, and the devil in order to make a free gift of ourselves to God. The struggle to pray is not unlike starting a fire on a cold winter's day. After a long walk in the chill air, I find myself shivering, nearly frostbitten, nose and fingers burning from the bitter cold. My hands fumble the logs as I awkwardly assemble the wood. I light a match with fingers that barely move. Small whips of fire slowly grow into dancing tounges of flame as the glowing warmth begins to thaw my hands. Gradually, the warmth of the flames pervades the stinging chill of the cold. I gaze into the glowing radiance of the fire as its warmth surrounds me.

Much like starting a fire after having spent time out in the bitter cold, the beginning of prayer is often awkward and difficult. We try to focus but struggle to rest as our minds stumble between prayer and distraction. Through perseverance, the distractions lessen and we experience the light of God's presence. Gradually, slowly, and oftentimes painfully, we begin to experience the warmth of God's presence as we let go of our attachments and allow His grace to warm our hearts.

The possibility of encountering the warmth of God's presence can be a compelling incentive to pray. While mystical experiences are possible, most of us are unlikely to experience such powerful encounters in our prayer. The reality for most of us is that prayer will often be difficult. Prayer is "the poor and humble surrender to the loving will of the Father in ever deeper union with His beloved son" (3). A wise priest once told me that humility is the hardest virtue to practice. We want the credit, to be recognized and held in high esteem. Pride all too often chokes the fruits of prayer by tempting us to seek things other than God. It's easy to think about what's in it for me. After all, what's the point of sacrificing my valuable time to do something that is panful and seems to offer no measurable benefits?

The purpose of prayer is to be transformed by God. The end goal of prayer is to become like Christ. It's tempting to think that we pray in order to gain some type of enlightened state here on earth; a kind of nirvana where I'm always happy and everything goes my way. Jesus is the model of prayer. Did He still feel distress and sadness? Christ's experience of sweating blood during the agony in the garden should give us an indication that our Lord's life was not without significant emotional suffering. Yet, in spite of His fear, Jesus willingly faced torture, humiliation, and death.

I find great comfort in Christ's example. Even the most agonizing pain is bearable so long as I am focused on God, begging Him for the graces that I need, and praising Him for the invaluable gift of His presence. Yes, prayer is painful at times. We will continue to struggle to maintain our focus, and there will be many times where our prayer feels empty, shallow, and forced. Yet, we continue on, gathering the logs, striking the match, and waiting patiently to be warmed by the radiant presence that is God's transforming love.
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Quotations:

(1) Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 2705.

(2) Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 2709.


(3)  Catechism of the Catholic Church: With modifications from the Editio Typica. (2003). New York: Doubleday. Paragraph 2711.

Images:

(1) Christ in Gethsemane, Heinrich Hofmann, 1886

Stations

All people have ‘crosses’ to bear.  But, presently, I feel more like Simon of Cyrene, called to assist a friend carrying a tremendous burden where anguish has overtaken physical loss.  I refrain from using my friend’s name as I write below.  I know that several readers intimately know of so many others who suffer relentless agony and despair; aging parents, the terminally ill, struggling and/or lost children, separation and divorce, injustice, violence, degenerative diseases, the indigent.  AND they, too, walk in the steps of Jesus. 

So much is graphically written with respect to the physical pain of Jesus’ suffering throughout the Passion.  But upon reflection, I think the greatest anguish Jesus suffered occurred in Gethsemane.  The anguish and despair never let up.  Before entering the garden, Jesus delivered his most profound gift of love, his body and blood in the bread and wine after washing the feet of those entrusted to him.  Soon the most extreme shift was about to occur as those he compassionately served were about to turn on him. I can think of no greater suffering than to be betrayed by those one loves.  Jesus was in such agony and he prayed so fervently that his sweat became like drops of blood falling on the ground. (Luke 22:44) 

My friend is frequently prone to anxiety, he often hikes along Castlewood State Park’s bluffs to erase them.  Having already survived liver and colon cancers, he loves the outdoors, grateful to fish, hike, cycle.

 Jesus condemned to death.  On January 4, after a freakish accident, still unexplained by medical analytics, a fall in his kitchen left him virtually paralyzed, a quadriplegic lying in his blood for nearly 2 1/2 hours before being discovered.  Though he has sensation in his arms and legs, he was left with no movement or use of arms, legs, hands, and feet.  Painful spasms constantly fire at random times interfering with physical and occupational therapy.

Matthew 19:16-22

"...and he walked away sad because he had many possessions."

I have many possessions...

Maubane - that's where we were heading.  I was sitting on a bus with my wife and daughter.  We were joined by a host of other parents and their wandering child. All of us held onto a bit of anxiety as we rode along the highway, for we did not know what to expect... 

We turned off the expressway and soon dust clouds billowed up as we traveled dirt roads.  A small village came into view - townships they are called - with rows of single-story structures missing doors and windows.  Our destination was in sight.  Our bus slowly weaved around the potholes until we reached the front of the school - a fenced in area with a few dilapidated buildings forming the edges of a courtyard.  You could hear the excitement of the children as we walked through the gate...