Silence Is Golden

Yes, I am boring. Probably bored too. What can I say?

Bored enough that I gave the place a face lift. Still not satisfied with it so I'll be tinkering some more.

Of faith and all things GOD. I am at peace, as in, I found home. Where I belong. Sounds cliche-y. Maybe.

Just doing what I do. Nothing to say about it. :)

ebreviary

The Prayers of the Church, are online, at ebreviary.com.

The Evening Breviary
by Carl Spitzweg

So the question this brought to my mind is, what is a breviary?

Faith and Life

What does it mean when you go from "hard to pray", to can't stop praying? Is it possible to pray too much? Every prayer I read I think is the best prayer I have ever read. There is a lot of internal "stuff" like this going on. Stuff that I don't know how to articulate.

What is going on in the world?

My dear daughter graduated from high school. That is a big ALLELUIA! It was a painful last few months.

I bought a St. Benedict medal and had it blessed. I went to Mass on Sunday at St. Vincents. I am reading a book by Luigi Giussani. Part of my internal thoughts that I don't know how to articulate, he does. I can just say, "what he said."

I saw "Angels and Demons". All throughout the movie, I kept thinking "look at all those Catholics!" Hey, there are a lot of Catholics in this movie. My favorite line, when the Vatican, ummm, police(?) are about to arrest the bad guy (a priest), a Cardinal tells them to "be gentle". Well, then the bad guy lights himself on fire. What the hell is up with that?

A Prayer To A Patroness

Prayer to St Mary Magdalene
by St. Anselm

St. Mary Magdalene, you came with springing tears to the spring of mercy, Christ; from Him your burning thirst was abundantly refreshed through Him your sins were forgiven; by Him your bitter sorrow was consoled.

My dearest lady, well you know by your own life how a sinful soul can be reconciled with its Creator, what counsel a soul in misery needs, what medicine will restore the sick to health. It is enough for us to understand, dear friend of God, to whom were many sins forgiven, because she loved much.

Most blessed lady, I who am the most evil and sinful of men do not recall your sins as a reproach, but call upon the boundless mercy by which they were blotted out. This is my reassurance, so that I do not despair; this is my longing, so that I shall not perish.

I say this of myself, miserably cast down into the depths of vice, bowed down with the weight of crimes, thrust down by my own hand into a dark prison of sins, wrapped round with the shadows of darkness.

Therefore, since you are now with the chosen because you are beloved and are beloved because you are chosen of God, I, in my misery, pray to you, in bliss; in my darkness, I ask for light; in my sins, redemption; impure, I ask for purity.

Recall in loving kindness what you used to be, how much you needed mercy, and seek for me that same forgiving love that you received when you were wanting it. Ask urgently that I may have the love that pierces the heart; tears that are humble; desire for the homeland of heaven; impatience with this earthly exile; searing repentance; and a dread of torments in eternity.

Turn to my good that ready access that you once had and still have to the spring of mercy.

Draw me to him where I may wash away my sins; bring me to him who can slake my thirst; pour over me those waters that will make my dry places fresh. You will not find it hard to gain all you desire from so loving and so kind a Lord, who is alive and reigns and is your friend.

For who can tell, beloved and blest of God, with what kind familiarity and familiar kindness he himself replied on your behalf to the calumnies of those who were against you? How He defended you, when the proud Pharisee was indignant, how He excused you, when your sister complained, how highly He praised your deed, when Judas begrudged it.

And, more than all this, what can I say, how can I find words to tell, about the burning love with which you sought him, weeping at the sepulchre, and wept for Him in your seeking?

How He came, who can say how or with what kindness, to comfort you, and made you burn with love still more; how He hid from you when you wanted to see Him, and showed Himself when you did not think to see Him; how He was there all the time you sought Him, and how He sought you when, seeking Him, you wept.

But you, most holy Lord, why do You ask her why she weeps? Surely You can see; her heart, the dear life of her soul, is cruelly slain. O love to be wondered at; O evil to be shuddered at! You hung on the wood, pierced by iron nails, stretched out like a thief for the mockery of wicked men; and yet, "Woman," You say, "why are you weeping?" She had not been able to prevent them from killing You, but at least she longed to keep Your Body for a while with ointments lest it decay. No longer able to speak with You living, at least she could mourn for You dead. So, near to death and hating her own life, she repeats in broken tones the words of life which she had heard from the living.

And now, besides all this, even the Body which she was glad, in a way, to have kept, she believes to have gone. And can You ask her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" Had she not reason to weep? For she had seen with her own eyes -- if she could bear to look -- what cruel men cruelly did to You; and now all that was left of You from their hands she thinks she has lost. All hope of You has fled, for now she has not even Your lifeless Body to remind her of You.

And someone asks, "Who are you looking for? Why are you weeping?"

You, her sole joy, should be the last thus to increase her sorrow. But You know it all well, and thus you wish it to be, for only in such broken words and sighs can she convey a cause of grief as great as hers. The love You have inspired You do not ignore,

And indeed You know her well, the Gardener, who planted her soul in His garden. What You plant, I think You also water. Do You water, I wonder, or do You test her? In fact, You are both watering and putting to the test.

But now, good Lord, gentle Master, look upon your faithful servant and disciple, so lately redeemed by Your Blood, and see how she burns with anxiety, desiring You, searching all round, questioning, and what she longs for is nowhere found. Nothing she sees can satisfy her, since You whom alone she would behold, she sees not.

What then? How long will my Lord leave his beloved to suffer thus? Have You put off compassion now You have put on incorruption? Did You let go of goodness when you laid hold of immortality?

Let it not be so, Lord. You will not despise us mortals now You have made Yourself immortal, for You made yourself a mortal in order to give us immortality.

And so it is; for love's sake He cannot bear her grief for long or go on hiding Himself. For the sweetness of love He shows Himself who would not for the bitterness of tears.

The Lord calls His servant by the name she has often heard and the servant knows the voice of her own Lord. I think, or rather I am sure, that she responded to the gentle tone with which He was accustomed to call, "Mary." What joy filled that voice, so gentle and full of love. He could not have put it more simply and clearly:

"I know who you are and what you want; behold Me; do not weep, behold Me; I am He whom you seek."

At once the tears are changed; I do not believe that they stopped at once, but where once they were wrung from a heart broken and self-tormenting they flow now from a heart exulting. How different is, "Master!" from "If you have taken Him away, tell me"; and, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him," has a very different sound from, "I have seen the Lord, and he has spoken to me."

But how should I, in misery and without love, dare to describe the love of God and the blessed friend of God? Such a flavour of goodness will make my heart sick if it has in itself nothing of that same virtue. But in truth, You who are very Truth, You know me well and can testify that I write this for the love of Your love, my Lord, my most dear Jesus. I want Your love to burn in me as You command so that I may desire to love You alone and sacrifice to You a troubled spirit, "a broken and a contrite heart."

Give me, O Lord, in this exile, the bread of tears and sorrow for which I hunger more than for any choice delights. Hear me, for Your love, and for the dear merits of your beloved Mary, and Your blessed Mother, the greater Mary. Redeemer, my good Jesus, do not despise the prayers of one who has sinned against You but strengthen the efforts of a weakling that loves You. Shake my heart out of its indolence, Lord, and in the ardour of Your love bring me to the everlasting sight of Your glory where with the Father and the Holy Spirit You live and reign, God, for ever. Amen.

Ethical debates turn personal for U. professor

I just have to point out this well done story in the Salt Lake Tribune today:

Tragic metamorphosis: Ethical debates turn personal for U. professor
by Peggy Fletcher Stack

It has felt at times as if Hopkins' accident undercut everything Battin thought about medical ethics.

Recently, she was talking with fourth-year medical students and faculty about a child who needed help eating and breathing. When one student said, "You'd never want to be on a respirator or with a feeding tube," Battin thought about how those devices, although invasive, had been saving her husband's life all these months.

"I felt a distance from these conversations," she says. "I see a lot of things in a more close-to-the-ground way than I did."

Ironic, the ways that life can change us.

Other than that, the day is lazy and I went to Mass at St. Vincent's.

What My Soul Knows

Back in December, I said

I have mentioned before that I participate in religious-based on-line forums.

It is on these forums where sometimes I feel like a fraud. Like I am saying things I don't believe.

I had a conversation this week with a person, I don't even know if it was a man or a woman, about the Tree of Life. There are some amazing teachings in the Catholic Church about the Tree of Life. In particular, I like these:

The Cross is called "the tree of life".

We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.

Because by your holy Cross you have redeemed the world.

From the Gospel according to Jn 19,26-27

When Jesus saw his mother, and the disciple whom he loved standing near, he said to his mother: "Woman, behold, your son!".
Then he said to the disciple: "Behold, your mother!". And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

Mary, you are standing at the foot of the Cross; the youngest disciple is standing next to you. Amid the noise of the soldiers and the crowd, the two of you lift your eyes, silently, to Christ. Mary, did you raise your hands to collect the blood running down the wood, the sap of the tree of life? Did your tears water the earth, where too many mothers lay their children to rest? From the beginning you pondered in your heart, in silence and abandonment, in peace and trust, what you saw and heard.

Jesus is THE Tree of Life

Lord Jesus, our resurrection,
in the new tomb you destroy death and grant life.

Lord Jesus, our hope,
your body, crucified and risen,
is the new Tree of Life.

Well, what I figured out in this conversation was that I am not a fraud. There just seems to be things that my soul understands, a part of my head can articulate it, and another part is surprised to know what I believe. Or actually, what I know AND believe. I'm OK with this, learning what I know.

I am doing better at praying, too. I try to make it a habit.

Ave Maris Stella

Mary, Star of Hope

49. With a hymn composed in the eighth or ninth century, thus for over a thousand years, the Church has greeted Mary, the Mother of God, as “Star of the Sea”: Ave maris stella. Human life is a journey. Towards what destination? How do we find the way? Life is like a voyage on the sea of history, often dark and stormy, a voyage in which we watch for the stars that indicate the route. The true stars of our life are the people who have lived good lives. They are lights of hope. Certainly, Jesus Christ is the true light, the sun that has risen above all the shadows of history. But to reach him we also need lights close by—people who shine with his light and so guide us along our way. Who more than Mary could be a star of hope for us? With her “yes” she opened the door of our world to God himself; she became the living Ark of the Covenant, in whom God took flesh, became one of us, and pitched his tent among us (cf. Jn 1:14).

50. So we cry to her: Holy Mary, you belonged to the humble and great souls of Israel who, like Simeon, were “looking for the consolation of Israel” (Lk 2:25) and hoping, like Anna, “for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Lk 2:38). Your life was thoroughly imbued with the sacred scriptures of Israel which spoke of hope, of the promise made to Abraham and his descendants (cf. Lk 1:55). In this way we can appreciate the holy fear that overcame you when the angel of the Lord appeared to you and told you that you would give birth to the One who was the hope of Israel, the One awaited by the world. Through you, through your “yes”, the hope of the ages became reality, entering this world and its history. You bowed low before the greatness of this task and gave your consent: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38). When you hastened with holy joy across the mountains of Judea to see your cousin Elizabeth, you became the image of the Church to come, which carries the hope of the world in her womb across the mountains of history. But alongside the joy which, with your Magnificat, you proclaimed in word and song for all the centuries to hear, you also knew the dark sayings of the prophets about the suffering of the servant of God in this world. Shining over his birth in the stable at Bethlehem, there were angels in splendour who brought the good news to the shepherds, but at the same time the lowliness of God in this world was all too palpable. The old man Simeon spoke to you of the sword which would pierce your soul (cf. Lk 2:35), of the sign of contradiction that your Son would be in this world. Then, when Jesus began his public ministry, you had to step aside, so that a new family could grow, the family which it was his mission to establish and which would be made up of those who heard his word and kept it (cf. Lk 11:27f). Notwithstanding the great joy that marked the beginning of Jesus's ministry, in the synagogue of Nazareth you must already have experienced the truth of the saying about the “sign of contradiction” (cf. Lk 4:28ff). In this way you saw the growing power of hostility and rejection which built up around Jesus until the hour of the Cross, when you had to look upon the Saviour of the world, the heir of David, the Son of God dying like a failure, exposed to mockery, between criminals. Then you received the word of Jesus: “Woman, behold, your Son!” (Jn 19:26). From the Cross you received a new mission. From the Cross you became a mother in a new way: the mother of all those who believe in your Son Jesus and wish to follow him. The sword of sorrow pierced your heart. Did hope die? Did the world remain definitively without light, and life without purpose? At that moment, deep down, you probably listened again to the word spoken by the angel in answer to your fear at the time of the Annunciation: “Do not be afraid, Mary!” (Lk 1:30). How many times had the Lord, your Son, said the same thing to his disciples: do not be afraid! In your heart, you heard this word again during the night of Golgotha. Before the hour of his betrayal he had said to his disciples: “Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33). “Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (Jn 14:27). “Do not be afraid, Mary!” In that hour at Nazareth the angel had also said to you: “Of his kingdom there will be no end” (Lk 1:33). Could it have ended before it began? No, at the foot of the Cross, on the strength of Jesus's own word, you became the mother of believers. In this faith, which even in the darkness of Holy Saturday bore the certitude of hope, you made your way towards Easter morning. The joy of the Resurrection touched your heart and united you in a new way to the disciples, destined to become the family of Jesus through faith. In this way you were in the midst of the community of believers, who in the days following the Ascension prayed with one voice for the gift of the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) and then received that gift on the day of Pentecost. The “Kingdom” of Jesus was not as might have been imagined. It began in that hour, and of this “Kingdom” there will be no end. Thus you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way!

1. Ave maris stella,
Dei Mater alma,
Atque semper Virgo,
Felix caeli porta.

Hail, bright star of ocean,
God's own Mother blest,
Ever sinless Virgin,
Gate of heavenly rest.

2. Sumens illud Ave
Gabrielis ore,
Funda nos in pace,
Mutans Hevae nomen.

Taking that sweet Ave
Which from Gabriel came,
Peace confirm within us,
Changing Eva's name.

3. Solve vincla reis,
Profer lumen caecis:
Mala nostra pelle,
Bona cuncta posce.

Break the captives' fetters,
Light on blindness pour,
All our ills expelling,
Every bliss implore.

4. Monstra t(e) esse matrem:
Sumat per te preces,
Qui pro nobis natus,
Tulit esse tuus.

Show thyself a Mother;
May the Word Divine,
Born for us thy Infant,
Hear our prayers through thine.

5. Virgo singularis,
Inter omnes mitis,
Nos culpis solutos,
Mites fac et castos.

Virgin all excelling,
Mildest of the mild,
Freed from guilt, preserve us,
Pure and undefiled.

6. Vitam praesta puram,
Iter para tutum:
Ut videntes Iesum,
Semper collaetemur.

Keep our life all spotless,
Make our way secure,
Till we find in Jesus,
Joy forevermore.

7. Sit laus Deo Patri,
Summo Christo decus,
Spiritui Sancto,
Tribus honor unus. Amen.

Through the highest heaven
To the Almighty Three,
Father, Son and Spirit,
One same glory be. Amen.