Having recently returned from the retreat of which I have written in the past two weeks, I have been slowly unpacking the various graces that the Lord shared with me during that time, graces which I know were not just for me, but for the people I am blessed to serve as a priest.  I would like to share one particular grace that I think applies to our reflections on the topic of prayer.

As I began retreat, I could sense the Lord was trying to invite me to a central focus during my time with Him.  In previous retreats, I would often pray about my identity as a priest, the various duties that I carry out as a priest, and how to infuse those activities with a greater love for God and zeal for the souls of the people under my care.  To be sure, those have been very fruitful reflections.  But on this retreat, I got the very clear message from the Lord: “This retreat is not primarily about your becoming a better priest.  First and foremost, it is about become a better friend to me.”  That thought resonated so well in my soul, and I found great consolation and peace, for the Lord was helping me realize that if my friendship with Him was strong, it would yield a more fruitful ministry in service to His people.  I therefore kept going back to the words of Jesus to His Apostles: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15)

One of the great saints of the Church who has left us with a wealth of wisdom on prayer is the Spanish Carmelite St. Teresa of Avila.  When describing prayer, she wrote simply, yet powerfully: “For mental prayer in my opinion is nothing else than an intimate sharing between friends; it means taking time frequently to be alone with Him who we know loves us.” (The Book of Her Life, ch. 8, 5)  How lovely of an image that is for us to think about when we go to prayer!  Is that how we see Him when we pray?  Sometimes we might see Him like our boss, and our prayer consists in our asking what tasks He wants us to accomplish for the day.  Perhaps we see Him as our personal assistant, telling Him the tasks that we want Him to accomplish for the day.  The Lord desires for us to see our time of prayer as a time spent with a friend – not just any friend, but the very best of friends, the one who knows us best, and the one who loves us best.

Seeing prayer as a time of sharing between friends does not conflict with our also approaching Him as our Father.  After all, when teaching His disciples to pray, He invites us to address our prayer to Him beginning with these words: “Our Father.”  I have no problem calling my earthly father a friend, nor should I fear calling the Lord both Father and friend.  

I invite all of us to spend some time this week reflecting on those words of Jesus that I quoted above: “No longer do I call you servants, for the servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends.” (Jn 15:15) Although God is all-powerful and mighty, and we owe Him our service for all that He has done for us, He has also drawn very close to us through His Son Jesus, who makes it possible for us to live in an intimate relationship of friendship.

Father Alford

This past Tuesday, the Church celebrated the feast day of Pope John XXIII, who is best known as the pope who called for the Second Vatican Council. The Council was a great movement of the Holy Spirit in which the Church was impelled by God to communicate the truth of the Gospel ever more clearly to the modern world. It would be good for every engaged Catholic to be familiar with the texts of the Council. Pope Benedict XVI and Pope John Paul II, as much younger men, were both major contributors to the text of the Council documents, and their papacies helped the Church interpret the meaning of the documents. I have included below some selections of the speech that good Pope John gave when the Council was opened. 

The major interest of the Ecumenical Council is this: that the sacred heritage of Christian truth be safeguarded and expounded with greater efficacy.

That doctrine embraces the whole man, body and soul. It bids us live as pilgrims here on earth, as we journey onwards towards our heavenly homeland.

The great desire, therefore, of the Catholic Church in raising aloft at this Council the torch of truth, is to show herself to the world as the loving mother of all mankind; gentle, patient, and full of tenderness and sympathy for her separated children. To the human race oppressed by so many difficulties, she says what Peter once said to the poor man who begged an alms: “Silver and gold I have none; but what I have, that I give thee. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, arise and walk.” In other words it is not corruptible wealth, nor the promise of earthly happiness, that the Church offers the world today, but the gifts of divine grace which, since they raise men up to the dignity of being sons of God, are powerful assistance and support for the living of a more fully human life. She unseals the fountains of her life-giving doctrine, so that men, illumined by the light of Christ, will understand their true nature and dignity and purpose. Everywhere, through her children, she extends the frontiers of Christian love, the most powerful means of eradicating the seeds of discord, the most effective means of promoting concord, peace with justice, and universal brotherhood.

It is therefore an overwhelming source of grief to us to know that, although Christ’s blood has redeemed every man that is born into this world, there is still a great part of the human race that does not share in those sources of supernatural grace, which exist in the Catholic Church. And yet the Church sheds her light everywhere. The power that is hers by reason of her supernatural unity redounds to the advantage of the whole family of men. She amply justifies those magnificent words of St. Cyprian: “The Church, radiant with the light of her Lord, sheds her rays over all the world, and that light of hers remains one, though everywhere diffused; her corporate unity is not divided. She spreads her luxuriant branches over all the earth; she sends out her fair-flowing streams ever farther afield. But the head is one; the source is one. She is the one mother of countless generations. And we are her children, born of her, fed with her milk, animated with her breath.” ¹¹

Thus, venerable brethren in the episcopate, “our heart is wide open to you.” Here we are assembled in this Vatican Basilica at a turning-point in the history of the Church; here at this meeting-place of earth and heaven, by St. Peter’s tomb and the tomb of so many of Our predecessors, whose ashes in this solemn hour seem to thrill in mystic exultation.

Given October 11, 1962 by Pope John XXIII in St. Peter’s Basilica 

Text taken from catholicculture.org

Feast Day: October 22^nd | Patron of Popes, Families, Youth, Laborers, Actors, Athletes, Human Life, Poland, the Elderly, and those with Parkinson’s 

For the next few weeks, I’d like to introduce you to one of my favorite saint-friends: Pope John Paul II. He was one of the inspirations for my own call to the priesthood, and getting to spend 5 years living just a few minute walk to his tomb, and then to get to do additional studies at the Institute founded by him for the study of God’s Love manifested by Holy Matrimony and in family life … boy, it was an amazing gift! I would love to write so much more about his life, his papacy, his writings, and his sanctity, but I think you’d be given a better glimpse into his heart by reading his own words, so these next weeks will be taken entirely from his own reflections. First, from Gift and Mystery, about his first discovering within his heart his vocation to become a priest as a young man (some edits of my own in the following text to make for easier reading than the original clunky translation):

My preparation for the priesthood, which was finished in the seminary, had somehow been preceded by that given me in the life and example of my parents in our family. My gratitude goes especially to my father, who became a widower early. I had not yet made my First Communion when I lost my mother: I was just nine years old. I have not a clear awareness of the contribution that she gave to my religious education, though it was certainly great. After her death and, later, after the death of my brother, I was left alone with my father who was a deeply religious man. I was especially impacted by the austerity of his daily life. By profession he was a military man, and when he became a widower, his life became a constant prayer. I would wake up at night and find my father on his knees, as was always his practice in our parish church as well. Between us there was no talk of a vocation to the priesthood, but his example was for me in some way my first seminary, a kind of domestic seminary.

Later, after the years of my early youth, my seminary became the quarry and the water treatment plant in the baking factory in Borek Falecki. And it was no longer only a pre-seminary, as in Wadowice [my hometown]. The factory was for me, at that stage of life, a real seminary, although illegal. I began working in the quarry in September 1940 after a year spent at the water treatment plant in the factory. It was during these years that I came to my final decision [to follow God’s call the become a priest], and in the fall of 1942, while still working at Solvay, I, a former student of Polish Philology, undertook to enter into clandestine seminary studies. I did not realize then the importance that this would have for me. Only later, as a priest, during my studies in Rome, would I encounter through my brother-priests in the Belgian College the situation of worker-priests and the movement of the Young Catholic Workers (JOC). I realized then that, what had become so important for the Church and for the priesthood in the West – true contact with the world of labor, I already had in my own life experience.

In truth, my experience was not as a “worker-priest” but a “worker-seminarian”. Laboring by hand, I knew what it meant to endure physical fatigue. Every day I met with people who worked hard. I got to know the environment of these people, their families, their interests, their human value and dignity. Personally I experienced a lot of cordiality on their part. They knew I was a student and they also knew that, as soon as circumstances would permit, I would return to [full time] studies. I never met hostility for this reason. They did not give me trouble when I brought books to work; rather, they said: “We’ll watch out for you; you read well.” This happened especially during night shifts. Often they said: “Get some rest, we’ll watch out.”

I made friends with many workers. Sometimes they invited me to their house. Later, as a priest and bishop, I baptized their children and grandchildren, blessed marriages and officiated at many of their funerals. I also had occasion to note how many were hiding their religious feelings and profound wisdom of life. These contacts, as I mentioned, remained very close even when the German occupation ended and continued almost up to my election as Bishop of Rome. Some of them continue still in the form of correspondence.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has to go out of his way to reach the end of the day bone-tired from plain hard work. Neither hard exercise, though tiring, nor the work that good prayer, liturgy, and preaching does require, results in the same tangible tiredness that breaking rocks or trudging to physical-work demands. Yet, I think that all of us know that some lessons can only be learned during a hard day working outside. Certain prayers are only drawn out of us, and strength built up in us, and quiet instilled within us from honest, physical, outdoor, labor. I need to find time for it more often!

As I mentioned in my last bulletin article, the retreat I just completed is a part of a Spiritual Direction Training program in which I am enrolled.  The first year of the program did not really say anything about the practice of giving spiritual direction.  Rather, the main focus was our own relationship with the Lord in prayer.  I could tell that some of the participants initially thought this was unnecessary, as they wanted to jump right into how best to direct others in the spiritual life.  But we all soon discovered the wisdom of taking time to ensure we as future directors were on solid ground with our spiritual lives.  As the saying goes:  You cannot give what you do not have.

As we began the program nearly a year and a half ago, one of the first resources we read was an article titled: “Prayer: A Personal Response to God’s Presence”, by Armand, M. Nigro, S.J.  Having read this article many years ago, I was surprised how returning to it was such a refreshing experience.  As the title explains, the author defines prayer in rather simple terms: “Prayer is a personal response to God’s loving presence.”

Though simple on the surface, this short definition is profound in depth.  It makes clear that prayer is first and foremost about God, not us.  God is the one who is present to us, inviting us to turn to Him in prayer.  We think that it is we who decide when to pray, but in reality, the initiative is on the part of the Lord.  Our deciding to pray is a response to His being present to us.

Beginning our prayer with understanding this dynamic is very important, because it will get us moving in the right direction.  It prevents us from becoming too self-centered in our prayer.  Instead of jumping into telling the Lord what we want, thinking about our needs, our desires, we first acknowledge that He is present.  He has called us, and He is delighted that we are present to Him who has never ceased to be present with us.

The author then proposes a beautiful recommendation on what our first step in prayer should be:

First of all, if prayer is a personal response to God’s presence, then, the beginning of prayer is to be aware of that presence, simply to acknowledge it, to be able to admit: “Yes, God my Father, You do love life into me.  Yes, You love life and being into the things around me and into all that comes into my senses.  You love talents and these longings into me, etc.”  The focus is on God and what God does.

Perhaps the next time you sit, stand, or kneel to pray, whatever form that prayer may take, you can pause and call this important truth to mind.  God, who loves you and delights in you, is already present, and your coming to pray is a response to that presence.  Take a moment to acknowledge His loving presence to you, and thank Him for that gift.  Beginning prayer in this way can be a game changer.

Father Alford

We are back again on the Theological virtue of faith, Hope, and Charity (Love). These Theological virtues are directly connected to God. They are not gain by human efforts but are given to us through sanctifying grace we received during our baptism. These theological virtues, “they are infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as his children and of meriting eternal life” (CCC, # 1813). Today, I would like us to reflect on the theological virtue of charity, a virtue that invites us to examine ourselves on how we relate and our desire to will the good for another person. The theological virtue of Charity is the greatest of all other virtues, it is the one that unites all the other three virtues.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines: “Charity is a theological virtue by which we love God above all things for his own sake, and our neighbor as ourselves for the love of God” (CCC, 1822).  It is love that moves us to wish good for others and to do good for others. This love is entrusted to the Apostles and us by Jesus Christ, “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you; abide in my love” (John 15:9); and ‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12). Therefore, Theological virtue of Charity is the key virtue to love God and our neighbor.

Pope Benedict XVI, reminds us in his encyclical Caritas in Veritate, “Charity is love received and given, it is grace, its source is the wellspring of Fathers love for the Son, in the Holy Spirit, love comes down to us from the Son” This is expressed in countless ways as St. Paul testifies, love is patient, love is kind, it is not jealous, love is not pompous, it is not inflated, it is not rude, it does not seek its own interests, it is not quick- tempered, it does not brood over injury, does not reject over wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1Cor 13:4-7). Love is the main point upon which the entire Christian life turns to. To possess the virtue of charity is to possess God; without it, one has nothing and is nothing. Charity is the greatest form of all the virtues. 

Prayer of St. Francis of Assis before the Crucifix at San Damiano

Most High Gracious God, enlighten the darkness of my heart
And give me true Faith, Certain Hope, and a perfect Charity,
sense and knowledge, Lord. That I may carry out your Holy and True Command.

Feast Day: October 5^th | Patronness of World Youth Day and of Divine Mercy

Last week we got to know Helena Kowalska, seeing how the Lord’s gently loved her into the convent. This week, I would like to pick up her story again, finding in this young woman an example of continuing to discern and follow the Lord. After three weeks in the convent the peace and consolations she had been flooded with fled from her heart. She was frustrated by the busy-ness of that particular convent, and found the chapel where once Jesus seemed so clear and close, to be now filled with other sisters, and a nagging feeling of futility in prayer. Helena thought that maybe she was called elsewhere, and this voice got ahold of her heart. She would try to bring the question to Jesus, but found that only silence and unrest filled her soul. One night, in anguish from the uncertainty, she was in her cell, unable to sleep, and threw herself into fervent, anxious, prayer. All the other sisters seemed so serene, so prayerful, so content, but her heart was breaking: where had Jesus’ love gone?

She was desperate. She planned to talk to the Mother Superior and ask to leave the convent. But she first took her breaking heart to Jesus, and He showed the constancy of His Loe. Again, she saw the face of Christ in His suffering, and her prayer immediately became one of concern for Him: “Jesus who has hurt You so?” The Lord seemed so clear then: “It is you who will cause Me this pain if you leave this convent. It is to this place that I called you and nowhere else; and I have prepared many graces for you.” What a gift to hear His voice! What a relief to have such clarity, at last, in her vocation. What a grace to finally realize that she would have to fight against the false voice that disquieted her soul, but that to flee that temptation was actually to make another act of love for Jesus! 

She would bring that prayer to her confessor the following day, and he would reassure her that the Lord’s voice was never the disquieting one nudging us away from love, but only the gentle, never-accusing, one that leads us to purer and greater love. We must all fight to listen only to Jesus’ voice! It takes time, effort, prayer, and trust to know the voice of the Good Shepherd! How easily we are also tempted away from our vocations, often by so many good, but false, reasons: “It would be easier over there.”; “I would do more good if I didn’t have to deal with this hardship or worry.”; “If God called me here certainly I wouldn’t be so annoyed at times … so weak … so unproductive … so humbled.” But the Voice of Truth, the Voice of Christ, is the one that speaks to us in that suffering, not necessarily eradicating it, but also not ignoring it. He knows our lives and vocations are hard sometimes, but that truer and more beautiful love is only found upon His path, sometimes carrying the cross with Him.

Sr. Faustina, as she would be called after completing her novitiate 2 years later (her full name being “Sr. Faustina of the Blessed Sacrament”, named after an early deacon and martyr, St. Faustinus: feast day February 15^th), would find tremendous peace and solace from this encounter with Christ in her suffering. Jesus did not promise that she would no longer suffer. In fact, right before receiving her habit, she had the joyous pain of knowing that her life would often require suffering, but the assurance that those would be crosses that always won the fruits of conversion and mercy for sinners all over the world, and that in accepting them she was stepping up to the cross with Jesus Who had already carried it so far for her.

During the following years of her novitiate she found herself at times completely engulfed in spiritual anguish, feeling the darkness of hell catch ahold of her. It was disconcerting, horrible, painful, and went on for months. Again, her soul cried out to Jesus “where are you?!” and He seemed so far from her. She fought the despair that filled her heart but all her recommitments and acts of trust seemed so ineffective against the torment. Little sparks of grace kept her going: during one time of prayer Mary’s voice broke through the shadows “I know how much you suffer, but do not be afraid. I share with you your suffering, and I shall always do so”, and later, when she professed her first vows (her mom and dad now present!) and found in her heart the ineradicable and ardent desire to empty herself for God. And then, so tenderly and lovingly, His response “You are My joy; you are My heart’s delight.” Somehow, at long last, these words finally broke the darkness and her soul was inundated with the light of knowing herself a daughter of her Heavenly, Beloved Father. Again, sufferings would return, but this bedrock assurance would never budge from her heart. 

Why such suffering for the good young sister? We cannot know, and she did not know then, but beautifully, the Lord would work through her heart so sorely tested, to bring His message of mercy to the world. In some way she had experienced the darkness that we all plunge into when we sin – though sometimes this abyss is not as clear to us as it was felt by her – but by this hard-won personal experience of God’s Mercy, Sr. Faustina would now be able to spread that message to the world.

– Fr. Dominic Rankin has often been puzzled by the particular set of circumstances he is going through. Why this Lord? Why this frustration, this experience, this conundrum? What good can it possibly be?!  Every single time, at some point later on, he has found that that hard-won wisdom and grace was something that someone else needed. Trust God that He will carry you through the fight, and that it is worth it in His larger plan.