Sanctify Your Day: The Liturgy Of The Hours For Ordinary Believers (LOH 1)

The Worth Revisiting post below (first published two years ago on the blog Principium et Finis) is the first of a series on the Liturgy of the Hours as a devotion for lay people. To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com. 


     There was a time in my life when I was immersed in secularism.  I began to recover in my late twenties, a process given a sudden and decisive boost by a powerful conversion experience in my thirtieth year, as I have related in other posts [here, here].  That was the start of an amazing adventure.  In the first flush of rediscovered faith I experienced an unexpected  joy in prayer, and many problems that had seemed insurmountable before were now, surprisingly, manageable. 

We can't all prayer like monks . . . 

      I have heard this honeymoon period after a conversion, or reversion, referred to as the “Pink Cloud” phase.  The Catholic tradition wisely tells us that conversion is a process and the pink cloud, like the infatuation at the beginning of a relationship, sooner or later (sooner, usually) dissipates, leaving the long and often hard road that is the only way to true love. 

     So it was for me.  Eight years down the road my wife and I had moved to another state (twice) and had several small children.  Life was good, but my spiritual life was stuck.  I needed something more, but I didn’t know what.  It happened that we were visiting in the state where that first profound reversion experience had taken place, and as I was driving past the church where I had been moved so profoundly years before the bells began to chime (literally).  The clock on the dashboard said 6 o’clock.  “Vespers”, I thought to myself.  Then it struck me:  I had been looking for a way to deepen my spiritual life; why not the Divine Office?  In fact, it almost seemed as though I was being told I should pray the Divine Office.  What did I have to lose?

     The more I though about it, the more I liked the idea.  In fact, I found myself becoming excited about the possibility, but had no idea how to go about it.  I had a very vague understanding of what the Divine Office was: I knew that it was a series of formal prayers said at certain times every day, and I knew the traditional names of some of those prayer times (Matins, Lauds, Vespers), but that was it.  As soon as our car ride was over I looked up “Divine Office” in the encyclopedia (my mother-in-law did not have internet access) and started piecing it together.  I learned that the Divine Office (now called the Liturgy of the Hours) goes back to the very earliest days of the Church, and is built around the praying of the Psalms and certain Canticles (poems or songs) from other parts of the Bible.  The Magnificat, for instance, which is the prayer Mary says when she meets her cousin Elizabeth (Luke 1:46-55), is always part of Vespers (i.e., Evening Prayer).

 

Everyone has time to pray: "The Angelus" by Jean-François_Millet

    I did not at first feel ready to pray the actual Liturgy of the Hours (I didn’t even know where to find the prayers), so at first I just made a point of saying some prayers(Hail Mary, Our Father, and a Glory Be) at some time close to the canonical hours.  Soon, however, I started to find resources online, and eventually bought a fairly inexpensive prayer book.  The Divine Office changed everything: not only did I have a much fuller prayer life, but I found that it really did “sanctify time”, as they say.  I felt closer to Christ and his Church, I was much more aware of the unfolding of the liturgical year, and I became much more familiar with Sacred Scripture in the process.  I also found that some ingrained patterns of sin which had withstood my initial conversion were becoming more tractable.  Praying the Liturgy of the Hours had in fact helped trigger another, further, experience of conversion.

     I do need to point out that I have never been able to pray like a monk, and have never tried: I have a wife and children and need to work extra jobs to keep them all clothed and fed.   Priests and religious, and certain lay people under vows, are required to pray the Divine Office in a particular way; the rest of us can adapt it to our situation.  In subsequent posts I will discuss various aspects of the Liturgy of the Hours, including how busy lay people can incorporate the Divine Office into their regular prayer life, available resources, the history of the Divine office, and my reflections on some of the particular hours.

Jesus Christ Is Risen Today - Alleluia, Alleluia!

The Lord Is Risen! Alleluia, Alleluia! 

    Christ has conquered death!

This is the greatest day to be a Christian – a brilliant reminder of the Hope that is in us.

     Let us celebrate with the joyful Easter Hymn, "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today":

We All Betray Our Lord (Good Friday)

"The Crucifixion", Rubens

    It seems all too easy for us sometimes to see the Apostles, in their bumbling humanity, as almost comic figures. There are a number of times, for instance, when they are arguing over which is greatest (Luke 22:24, Mark 9:33, and others), clearly missing the point of their Master's teaching. We see another example in last evening's Holy Thursday reading from John’s Gospel (John 13:6-10), where Peter just can’t understand what Jesus means when he washes the Apostles’ feet. Matthew shows us yet another instance of Apostolic confusion in his account of the Last Supper.  After the Apostles have assembled for the meal with Jesus, the Lord says a remarkable thing: "Truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me." (Matthew 26:21).  Were it not so serious a moment, we might be tempted to laugh a little at the Apostles all frantically asking "Is it I, Master?" (Matthew 26:24).  On the one hand, you would think that they knew their own hearts, on the other, well . . . maybe they were on to something.

    As it happens, not all of them doubt.  Peter confidently asserts, "Though they all fall away because of you, I will never fall away." (Matthew 26:33)  He’s in for a rude awakening:  Jesus gently corrects the man he named “the Rock”, saying "Truly, I say to you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times" (Matthew 26:34). And of course he does. The other Apostles, as it turns out, were right to doubt their own steadfastness.

    Yes, it tempting to put a comic spin on the Apostles’ reactions, but that would be a mistake, and not simply because they are holy people to whom we owe respect.  When Jesus says to them, "You will all fall away” (Matthew 26:31), he’s speaking only to his Apostles, but to all of us who have been his disciples in the millennia since, and in the years  to come.  They all betrayed him; we all betray him; I betray him.  Constantly.  That’s why we need the Sacrament of Confession.

    That’s also why we venerate the Cross and meditate on Christ's suffering on Good Friday: Because on the Cross Jesus died for us, because of our betrayals . . . because I fall away, not just three times, but over and over again.

O Jesus, Who by reason of Thy burning love for us

hast willed to be crucified

and to shed Thy Most Precious Blood

for the redemption and salvation of our souls,

look down upon us here gathered together

in remembrance of Thy most sorrowful Passion and Death,

fully trusting in Thy mercy;

cleanse us from sin by Thy grace,

sanctify our toil,

give unto us and unto all those who are dear to us our

daily bread,

sweeten our sufferings,

bless our families,

and to the nations so sorely afflicted,

grant Thy peace,

which is the only true peace,

so that by obeying Thy commandments

we may come at last to the glory of heaven.

Amen.

    

Asleep In The Garden

Today is Wednesday of Holy Week, a day on which it's worth revisiting this post from Holy Thursday 2014. 

To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.) 

Asleep in the Garden

And they went to a place which was called Gethsem'ane; and he said to his disciples, "Sit here, while I pray." And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled.  And he said to them, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch." And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.  And he said, "Abba, Father, all things are possible to thee; remove this cup from me; yet not what I will, but what thou wilt." And he came and found them sleeping, and he said to Peter, "Simon, are you asleep? Could you not watch one hour? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."  And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words.  And again he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to answer him. And he came the third time, and said to them, "Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? It is enough; the hour has come; the Son of man is betrayed into the hands of sinners.  Rise, let us be going; see, my betrayer is at hand." And immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas came, one of the twelve, and with him a  crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests and the scribes and the elders.      (Mark 14:32-43)

     It’s been a tough week.  Like Martha, I’ve been worried about many things (Luke 10:41), to the point of feeling physically and mentally exhausted.  And yet, in the midst of all this self-involved anxiety, I have found myself contemplating the image of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, in agony.  According to Steve Ray, to whom I was listening on my car radio on the way in to work,  many scholars believe that Christ’s greatest suffering was in the garden, where he felt the full weight of humanity’s sins.  Peter, John, and James doze off (three times!), too wrapped up in themselves to attend to the Master who has asked for their support in his time of supreme trial.  That’s me, I realized: at the holiest time of the year, as I should be focusing on The Lord suffering for my sins, all I can think of is myself.  It’s sort of sad, isn’t it? 

     That being the case, I’ve resolved to turn my focus to Jesus Christ as I take part in the observance of the Easter Triduum.  I’ll set aside my concerns and worries (please, Lord, give me the Grace!); if the Holy Spirit gives me something worthwhile to say I’ll say it, if not I’ll content myself to keep My Lord company from the Cenacle to Calvary, and wait in Joyful Hope for his return on Easter Sunday.

"Now My Jesus Is Taken Prisoner" (Bach, St. Matthew Passion)

Today is Tuesday of Holy week.  Now we start to focus more directly on the suffering and death of Jesus, as in this clip from Bach's St. Matthew Passion: "So now my Jesus has been taken prisoner"

Dirck van Baburen, The Arrest of Christ

The Breastplate of St. Patrick: Still Relevant After 1500 Years

Given that tomorrow is the Feast of St. Patrick, it seems Worth Revisiting the post below, first published St. Patrick's Day 2014.

To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.) 

     Christ with me,

     Christ before me,

     Christ behind me,

     Christ in me,

     Christ beneath me,

     Christ above me,

     Christ on my right,

     Christ on my left,

     Christ when I lie down,

     Christ when I sit down,

     Christ when I arise,

     Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

     Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

     Christ in every eye that sees me,

     Christ in every ear that hears me.

Window in St. Patrick's Cathedral, Armagh

     Pious tradition attributes authorship of the prayer above, known as “The Breastplate of St. Patrick”, to the Apostle of Ireland himself.  As is the case with the beloved "Prayer of St. Francis", experts tell us the eponymous Saint is most likely not the real author.  I myself would much rather hang out with Pious Tradition than with The Experts any day, but for our purposes here we'll just say that it could have been written by St. Patrick.  In any case, while the prayer as you see it above is the most well-known version, it is really only a part of a much longer composition (full text here).  At one time this magnificent prayer, in its complete form, was a part of my morning devotions every day.

     "The Breastplate of St. Patrick" is, in fact, written as a morning prayer, and more: it is a statement of faith, a brief but comprehensive catechesis, and a call for Divine help against the dangers that beset us from both earthly and spiritual sources.  Those things are as necssary today as they were in 5th century Ireland, and St. Patrick's prayer is a powerful and inspiring way to start our daily journey.

     The "Breastplate" opens with "I arise today/Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity . . ." St. Patrick is famous for his emphasis on the Trinity, reportedly using the three-leafed shamrock to illustrate the doctrine (as memorialized in the present-day stained glass window from the cathedral in Armagh, his primatial see).  Here, he also emphasizes "the Oneness of the Creator of creation."  In converting a pagan people, Patrick needed to impress upon them that there was indeed only one God, as distinct from their pagan pantheon, although expressed in three Persons.  The Triune God is also unlike their familiar gods in that He alone is the universal Creator, as opposed to pagan deities who were hardly less subject to greater forces than were mortal men. In our own day we also need to be reminded that God is Love (1 John 4:8), and Love reaches its perfection in a union of persons, but also that God the Creator is master of all the blind forces of nature with which we wrestle.

     The next “I arise today . . .” is followed by a brief Christology: incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection and descent to the Dead. We no less than our newly-christened forefathers need to understand who it is we follow.

     A third “I arise today . . . .” is followed by a litany of various Angels, Patriarchs, Prophets, and Saints, which re-establishes for us that our devotion to the Person of Jesus Christ also connects us to all the lesser persons, living and dead, in the Communion of Saints.

     Next, “I arise today/Through strength of heaven,/the light of the sun . . .” and so on, through a list of natural forces which, St. Patrick here reminds us, come below us in the order of creation, and are so much the more under God’s power (how often we moderns forget both of these truths!).

     After a fifth “I arise today . . .” we see a litany of the various manifestations of God’s Providential care:

     God’s strength to pilot me,

     God’s might to uphold me,

     God’s wisdom to guide me . . .

And so on. At the end of this section we shift our focus to the various evils that beset us:

     God's host to save me

     From snares of devils,

     From temptation of vices,

     From everyone who shall wish me ill,

     Afar and near.

     In the next section we call for God’s help against these evils, which are laid out in more detail:

     I summon today

     All these powers between me and those evils,

     Against every cruel and merciless power

     That may oppose my body and soul,

     Against incantations of false prophets,

     Against black laws of pagandom,

     Against false laws of heretics,

     Against craft of idolatry,

     Against spells of witches and smiths and wizards,

     Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and  soul.

     Christ shield me today

     Against poison, against burning,

     Against drowning, against wounding,

     So that there may come to me

     an abundance of reward.

Notice the priority given to spiritual evils, which Christians have traditionally understood to be far more serious dangers than the physical hazards at the end of the passage, but which are ignored or even derided today (see my discussion here).

.

     At this point we come to the famous passage quoted at the top of this post, from which the prayer takes its name, in which we call upon Christ to surround us, to “armor” us, with his protection.

     Finally, the prayer ends by repeated the invocation with which it starts:

     I arise today,

     Through a mighty strength,

     The invocation of the Trinity,

     Through belief in the Threeness,

     Through confession of the Oneness

     Of the Creator of creation.

     As I read through this prayer, which was composed for ancient pagans who knew nothing of Christianity, I am struck by how well it is suited to our current post-Christian, neo-pagan culture.  It couldn't hurt to pray it more often.

Prisoners Of Our Own Device (Worth Revisiting)

To enjoy the work of other faithful Catholic bloggers see Worth Revisiting Wednesday, hosted by Elizabeth Reardon at theologyisaverb.com and Allison Gingras at reconciledtoyou.com.) 

Don't be put off by the references to autumn in the piece below: this Worth Revisiting post was first published as part of the Sunday Snippets post from September 21st, 2014.  It touches on a central theme of Sunday's post about chocolate and Lent, that is, how our attachment to the things of this world can separate us from God.

September beach-wear in Maine

I'd like to start with a little jaunt we made last weekend, a late-summer (nearly fall) visit to the beach.  The high temperatures for the day didn’t get above the mid 60’s, so we wore jackets and kept our shoes on, and just walked and enjoyed the views (no selfies of my feet in the surf this time).  Most other beach-goers were dressed for the weather as we were, but a few defiant souls were there in swimsuits, either stretched out on the beach or even, in the case of the most intrepid, wading a little into the water.  One of my sons remarked that there were two factions at the beach that day: those who were in denial and those who were not.

     Among the deniers there was one young girl dressed in a swimsuit, maybe twelve years old, who was venturing into the surf . . . holding a smart phone in her hand.  It was a most incongruous image.  Twenty minutes later I saw her again, a little further down the beach, still clutching her little electronic gadget.  I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised: I’ve seen the videos of people walking into walls, fountains, etc., in public places with their eyes glued to little screens, I’ve seen with my own eyes my fellow motorists going down the highway at 70 miles per hour with their eyes down and their thumbs bouncing off their devices, and I’ve heard about the often fatal accidents caused by such people. 
     I couldn't help but think of that poor techno-crazed girl when I read this article [here] in Catholic World Report about "Casualities of the Device Age".  The author, Thomas Doran, explains that, while the little gadgets have many useful aspects, the widespread addiction to them contributes "to a decline in the ability to reason, contemplation, and self-discipline."  Having taught high school students for twenty-eight years, I can testify to the truth of Doran's observations.  
     I would also add that enslavement to these little electronic tyrants, because they try to fill the void in our heart that only God can fill (as do all addictions), draws us away from the Lord.  A few months ago I posted a meditation (see the selfie-of-feet link above) in which I discussed the vastness of the sea as an image of God's infinite love. How very sad that the girl at the beach  couldn't leave behind the instrument of her spiritual servitude even for the infinite embrace of the ocean.  What a sobering image of our modern predicament.

What's Up With Chocolate And Lent?

To Give It Up Or Not . . .  

What’s up with the chocolate?  As I was driving home from work last week I passed a church with a signboard out front that said, “Lent: Give Up Chocolate, Not Hope.”  I kept thinking about it all the way home, both because I think the folks who put up the sign were trying to make an important point, but also because they were (inadvertently, no doubt) undercutting their message at the same time.  I had decided to to write about it, and took a picture of the sign Sunday on my way to an event at a Catholic church I don’t usually attend.  When I got to the church, as I was running through my thoughts on the first sign, I saw a second sign, or really a notice on a bulletin board in the hallway: “Don’t Give Up Chocolate For Lent.”  Well now, should I or shouldn't I? What's a person to do?

Lent Is A Season Of Hope

I should mention that the first sign appeared outside a non-Catholic Christian church, but I think that the good point it was making is perfectly catholic, that is, that Lent is a Season of Hope.  I don’t mean hope in the secular sense of the word, which often refers to little more than desperate wishful thinking.  Christian Hope is the confidence that, however bad things might be in the here and now, Christ will triumph in the end.  The sacrifices and penances of Lent actually serve to reinforce that Hope, by helping us to detach from our hopeless reliance on the things of this world (pleasure, power, politics, money, and even family and friends). In fact, the best sacrifice is when we give up something good, because even the best things in this world are insufficient. Our own best efforts are insufficient without God’s help. It’s no accident that God Made Man Himself was put to death through the cooperation of officials of the greatest religion and officers the most advanced government the world had yet seen; “Unless the Lord has built the house, they labored in vain who built it” (Psalm 127:1). The small austerities of the penitential season serve, at least in part, as a reminder that we don’t really need things, but we do need Christ.

Body And Soul

That’s where I think sign number one is in danger of sending a mixed message.  To my ears, at least, it sounds almost dismissive of the idea of sacrificing something concrete for Lent, as if it’s saying, “If you insist on giving up something go ahead, but it’s not really important; all that really matters is your interior disposition”.  Again, I don’t know if that’s what’s intended or not (one can only say so much on a roadside signboard); I certainly hope not, because while the interior disposition is the more important, the external action helps to form and direct it.  We are both body and soul, and as Christians we worship God made Man, so our faith is incarnational and sacramental. Unlike angels, who are pure spirit, we need to apprehend abstract realities through physical signs (I discuss this idea at greater length in a number of other posts, most fully here). Therefore, giving up something without the proper interior disposition is pointless, but maintaining the proper disposition without reinforcement from the world of created things is, in the end, contrary to our nature (which is why Jesus gave us a visible Church and Sacraments).

Maybe I Shouldn't Give Up Chocolate . . .

Here’s where the second chocolate sign comes in.  “Don’t Give Up Chocolate This Lent” is the slogan of Catholic writer Matthew Kelly’s “Best Lent Ever” program this year. His website explains:

Lent is the perfect time to form new life-giving habits and abandon old self-destructive habits. But most of us just give up chocolate. Then, when Easter arrives, we realize we really haven't grown spiritually since the beginning of Lent.

Lent is not just about giving things up, like chocolate. Lent is about doing something—something bold to become a better husband or wife, father or mother, son or daughter, friend, neighbor, etc.

I don’t think that Kelly is actually opposed to giving up chocolate per se: in his book Becoming the Best Version of Yourself, he relates (very powerfully) how he broke his own chocolate addiction, and uses that as an example of how we can let things other than God become our master. This is, in fact, the purpose of the tradition of Lenten sacrifice. In promoting The Best Lent Ever, however, Kelly is using the giving up of chocolate to represent something else: here it represents the very different problem of going through the motions of a nominal sacrifice without really experiencing anything deeper.

What's A Person To Do?

    It’s interesting that both slogans are using apparently contradictory messages to make the same (good and true) point: that giving up chocolate (or coffee, or watching sports, or whatever) is not enough, that truly experiencing what the Season of Lent is meant to teach us requires much more.  They both also have the effect of seeming to trivialize the value of such sacrifices. To be fair, Kelly’s program offers plenty of other concrete ways of living out Lent, such as daily meditations, inspirational videos, etc.  I suspect that the slogan was chosen because it catches the eye precisely because it is so contrary to expectations.  The problem is that many more people, unfortunately, will probably see the slogan than will look into the program. Let's hope it doesn't encourage people to forego Lenten sacrifices altogether.

    As I said before, what's a person to do? Perhaps there’s no way to fit the both/and nature of a good Christian observance of Lent into a catchy slogan. Is there some pithy way we can say “Lent: Give Up Chocolate to Remind Us That Our Hope Is In Christ Alone”?  Or, “Don’t Give Up Chocolate For Lent If It Doesn’t Help You To Grow In Christ”?  However that may may, chocolate is not the issue: we can, in good conscience, either give it up or not. Whether we participate in Matthew Kelly's well-received program or follow some more traditional Lenten devotion, however, we should not neglect allowing the Word to become flesh in our own lives.