Whether a politician wants our vote at a ballot box, or a film production studio wants our vote at the box office, both of them have to take into account one basic characteristic common to all of us as consumers: we indulge in ideas that flatter us.  On the individual level, we are attracted to messages that tell us we are somehow being cheated, and everyone is to blame but ourselves; on the entertainment level, we are drawn to protagonists that somehow reflect the way we subconsciously wish ourselves to be…

Across the spectrum, from political candidates to advertisers and producers of various media (often these groups of people overlap), this principle is taken into account and used to achieve quite a lot of political and financial gain.  We are made to feel good about ourselves, but often we are patting the back of an avatar, a continuant character based on ourselves but often detached from the reality of who we really are, either as individuals or as a culture.

Perhaps this is why the word “avatar” has been taken to define online personas in the digital age. When we make an avatar for ourselves, we choose an image that we think represents us most ideally, we take on a language that we think represents our persona well in our online interactions, and we visit and post to sites that we think best reflect the demographics with which we would most ideally associate.  Even the screen names we pick for ourselves when navigating various social media are reflective of the things that we want others in the digital community to know about us first, before they read a single one of our thoughts.

“Avatar” is itself both an interesting and remarkably appropriate term to use when it comes to these online representations of ourselves.  The word comes to us from the Hindu religion, and refers to an earthly manifestation of a heavenly being of some kind.  In Hindu theology, a god, such as Vishnu or Ganesha, is able to project manifestations of itself in the physical world.

As fathers and doctors of the Church have been quick to point out, however, there is a vast chasm between incarnation and mere manifestation.  The fullness of Vishnu doesn’t dwell in an avatar; the consequences of living in the reality of the natural world don’t apply to Ganesha.  In the Hindu understanding, avatars are little more than glorified holograms.  Jesus, on the other hand, took on human flesh, lived a life on earth in that same flesh, and in him, as St. Paul tells the Colossians, all the fullness of the Godhead was and is pleased to dwell.  Jesus is not an avatar of the Father; he is, as we state in the Nicene Creed, “consubstantial with the Father.”

It hardly requires a stretch of the imagination to apply this difference between Hinduism and Christianity to the way we might project ourselves in the world of social media.  When we interact online, we are not incarnate in the digital medium that we choose to inhabit; when we log off, our comments are still online even though we ourselves are not.  We can be “present” to the peers who encounter our thoughts because the internet keeps our comments available for viewing by others who may be reading them while we sleep.  We are not truly present online; we are transitionally present at best.  Our social media profiles cannot be our incarnate selves; they are merely manifestations of aspects of ourselves that we wish to display to the online community.  We are no more true gods than Vishnu or Ganesha; when we condescend to communicating who we are in a social media environment, we do so more often as personas than persons, acting in accordance with the image of ourselves that we have decided is most representative of who we want others to think we are.

It is remarkably easy to deceive ourselves into thinking that our online interactions are more incarnational than they actually are; it is frighteningly common to fall into the trap of investing more into our online identities, which are nothing more than avatars, than in our holistic lived realities of work, home, and community, which are the only environments in which we can truly be incarnate.

In prayer, the concept of the avatar is often operative as well- how often have we spoken with God in such a way that we run interference for ourselves, as though he weren’t familiar with whom we really are?  How easy is it to whip up a manifestation of ourselves that we can present in prayer so that our real, sinful selves can be tricked into thinking that we’re off the hook for whatever we decide God doesn’t really need to know about us?  If we are falsely oriented in the way we present ourselves to others, then this tendency toward falsehood will show up in the way we present ourselves at prayer as well.  If we do so, we end up brokering a make-believe conversation between false image of ourselves and a false image of God.

Whatever else this might be, it isn’t prayer. True prayer must involve our whole selves in communion with God, and not a mere interaction between a character we’ve created for ourselves and a character we’ve created based on Him.

Excerpted with permission from “Prayer in the Digital Age,” Copyright 2011 Liguori Publications. www.liguori.org.

When my daughter was a toddler, I remember that sometimes (okay, more than sometimes) I became frustrated that I was unable to get my chores done. Although our home was a “toy land,” my daughter insisted on being held, especially while I was preparing dinner. One particularly stressful day I shared this problem with my father, who gave me a wily smile while saying, “Cheerios and molasses.”

Scrutinizing him through squinting eyes, I repeated, “Cheerios and molasses?”

“Yes,” he said. “Works every time.”

Sensing he was enjoying my parenting dilemma a little too much, but desperate to try anything, I took the bait. “Explain, Dad.”

“Well,” he began, “while you’re making dinner just put her in her highchair, dip the tip of her fingers in molasses and place some cheerios on her tray.” With a very satisfied look on his face and a well raised eyebrow he added, “And when she gets tired of the cheerios…give her a feather.”

I recently remembered this conversation while I was (strangely enough) making dinner. I was thinking of God, the Father. Odd perhaps, but there it was.

I recalled a time in my life when I experienced tremendous emotional trauma. Back then, I didn’t have any spiritual support. I never even considered it! It never entered my mind to seek counsel from a Spirit-filled friend or the Church.

Left to my own devices I started to believe the lie that, if God really loved me, my troubles would never have happened. After entertaining this perverse thought for awhile, Satan slyly planted another and another, until I foolishly dived head first down the slippery slope. Next stop on this train: self-loathing, unbelief, and rebellion. I blamed God for my woes and became very angry with him. He was no longer my friend. To drive home the point I turned my back on everything associated with him. I had an adult temper tantrum.  I told God the very same thing my 6-year-old tells me when he doesn’t understand my loving discipline: “You’re mean!”

(“…do not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him; for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he acknowledges” (Heb 12:5-6).)

Reflecting on this period in my life I suddenly realized that my father’s quip about Cheerios and molasses was a metaphor for my relationship with God. God was like a Cheerio on my molasses-covered baby fingers. Even though I tried to ignore him and vigorously shake him off, he stuck with me.

When I was younger I remember declaring like St. Peter, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never deny you.”(Mt 26:35) But deny I did, and to my great sorrow more than three times! As I continued to reject the Lord’s advances, I could hear him saying, “I have prayed for you that your own faith may not fail; and once you have turned back, you must strengthen your brothers.” (Lk 22:32) But in my stubbornness I rudely replied, “Thanks, but no thanks.” Did that stop Jesus from pursuing me? No!

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus recounts the parable of the persistent friend. “Suppose one of you has a friend to whom he goes at midnight and says, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread, for a friend of mine has arrived at my house from a journey and I have nothing to offer him,’ and he says in reply from within, ‘Do not bother me; the door has already been locked and my children and I are already in bed. I cannot get up to give you anything.’ I tell you, if he does not get up to give him the loaves because of their friendship, he will get up to give him whatever he needs because of his persistence” (Lk 11:5-8). Jesus is using this parable to teach the importance of persistence and perseverance in prayer. But in my experience, I was the friend who would not open the door, and Jesus was the one who persisted in courting me with his mercy, grace, truth and love – knocking and knocking until I opened the door.

So let me forewarn you, in case you are under any deceitful delusions (as I was then) of ever escaping the infinite love of God. It can’t be done! The “hound of heaven” is absolutely relentless. “Everything is possible with God,” Scripture tells us. I declare: “Everything except escaping his incomprehensible, unfailing love!” Even as I rejected the Lord, He was always there, readily available the moment I yielded. We simply cannot flee the love of God, because it is his very essence. God IS love!

Even today, I’m still amazed. Like the prodigal child who returns from a life of shameless misery, God rushes to dress me in the finest robes, puts a ring on my finger and kills the fatted calf. We cannot comprehend it. We just need to accept it and know that it is!

My name is Lynn and I’m a pray-er. I pray alone, with family, with friends, in church, and in community. I pray the holy rosary, the Divine Mercy chaplet, the Angelus. I pray in tongues. I am part of a healing and deliverance team and believe me we pray, sometimes hours at a time and so… what?

I taught catechism for 11 years; I know what prayer is and what prayer is supposed to be: “Prayer is conversation with God; the intercourse of the soul with God… Prayer may be oral or mental, occasional or constant, ejaculatory or formal. It is a ‘beseeching the Lord’ (Ex. 32:11); ‘pouring out the soul before the Lord’ (1 Sam. 1:15); ‘praying and crying to heaven’ (2 Chr. 32:20); ‘seeking unto God and making supplication’ (Job 8:5); ‘drawing near to God’ (Ps. 73:28); ‘bowing the knees’ (Eph. 3:14).” Like I mentioned, I’m a pray-er.

And yet, I was completely blown away by the simple prayer of a 5-year-old Ethiopian boy. You see, he didn’t speak much English when God brought him into our life four months ago through adoption. A few ABCs, some 123s, and a hello. He didn’t know English, but he knew Jesus. The good people who took care of him told him that he was not forgotten and that God knew his name. And through Jesus he would have all his needs met.

Within weeks of arriving in America, he was speaking a lot of English. Each night he listened as his new forever family (my husband, my 6-year-old son, and I) said their night prayers before bed. When it was his turn, he’d become shy, hide his face in his hands, or laugh. We would say,”That’s okay,” give him a kiss, and end with the sign of the cross.

Then one night it happened! After the three of us had our turn at spontaneous prayer, our new son spoke his first prayer in English. He spoke it thoughtfully, lovingly and sincerely. “Jesus… thank you. Jesus… I love you. Jesus… tomorrow.”

We all stood in silence.

I cannot express to you what I felt in the very core of my being as I listened to those words. The fact is they weren’t just words. They were alive, genuine and heartfelt. They resonated holiness. I witnessed a true conversation with a living God. I experienced God’s holy presence.

I felt like an intruder, humbled and even a little ashamed: humbled by this 5-year-old’s simple yet powerful prayer and ashamed for the very same reason.

Aside from the Mass, the most perfect prayer is the Our Father. Jesus himself taught this prayer to his disciples. According to AboutCatholic.com it is made up of three parts:

1. Invocation, “Father” (Luke 11:2)‚ Call upon God to offer your prayer.
2. Petitions:
   1. God’s glorification, “hallowed be your name, your kingdom come.” (Luke 11:2)‚ praise God first, this is a common theme in prayer throughout the Bible.
   2. divine help and guidance, “Give us each day our daily bread and forgive us our sins for we ourselves forgive everyone in debt to us, and do not subject us to the final test.” (Luke 11:3-4). Ask God your specific intentions.

How could this child know the prayer of Jesus?

Jesus… thank you. Jesus… I love you. (praise and glorification)

Jesus… tomorrow. (divine help and guidance)

I’ve said The Our Father many times but have I ever prayed it?

There’s a story about a great actor who recites Psalm 23, “The Lord is My Shepherd.” Upon finishing, the audience breaks out in thunderous applause and the actor receives a standing ovation. Then a humble priest stands and recites the same Psalm. Upon finishing, there is no applause. There is no standing ovation, just silence. The priest walks off the stage. Finally, the actor breaks the silence and says, “I know the Psalm, but he knows the shepherd!”

Our son had said the Lord’s Prayer from his heart, out of his need and with sincere gratefulness and love. His prayer covered everything. We all knew it because it resounded in our souls and penetrated our spirits. His prayer was perfect!

Lord, help me to speak with you and not to you. Help me to know the Good Shepherd. Help me to become a pray-er pleasing to you! Jesus, thank you. Jesus, I love you. Jesus, tomorrow. Amen!

When I taught religion in a parochial middle school, part of my weekly responsibilities included writing the Prayers of the Faithful that would be read by a middle school student in our weekly Mass.

I loved this part of my job! Actually, I loved every part of my job. For the first few years—before the politics of it all began to take their toll—I was convinced this was my little slice of Heaven on earth. Nothing could be better than teaching English and religion to some of the most fascinating, complicated, endearing creatures God ever created: seventh-grade kids!

So each week, along with the lessons I planned, I devotedly sat down and wrote the Prayers of the Faithful.  I took this responsibility very seriously. Here I was, directing the entire middle school—and the parishioners who also attended—in their supplications to God.

There was a subtle order that we were directed to follow, a hierarchy, so to speak:

1. Pope and Catholic Church
2. Archbishop and our diocese
3. Local parish, priest, parishioners etc.
4. Miscellaneous things that were happening in the community in general—or world at large
5. Those for whom the Mass was being said

I wrote things like: For John Paul II as he leads us, his flock, so that he may respond to the Holy Spirit and reflect Christ’s wisdom to us. (Just in case JPII wasn’t currently responding to the Holy Spirit!)

Or: For those who tend to the poor and disenfranchised, so that they fully understand how to be stewards of the time and resources God has given them. (Just in case those who currently tended to the poor and disenfranchised weren’t already being good stewards of their time and resources!)

You get the picture.

Heady stuff, directing God and all in what amounts to the painfully obvious.

Of course we teachers who wrote these prayers sometimes let our emotions get the better of us; so there might be the likes of some of these that slipped in:

For the greedy Wall Street bankers, so that their pockets full of money drag them kicking and screaming directly to Hell but not before they realize all the harm they’ve done and repay every person who was ever harmed….

In the end, I truly believe that we were (and are) all good-intentioned when we pray; but I have to come to realize that we often take liberties as well. Liberties that may not be in our best interest or in the best interest of those for whom we are praying.

About a year ago our pastor made mention of this in a homily. He was not issuing a directive to any of us, but was simply asking us to consider the ways in which we construct our supplications.

I lead a small group Bible study at our parish and before we begin our time together, we say the rosary. After hearing Father’s words about what he called the “so that…” prayers, I’ve shared with my friends at this study that I am sure God and the Communion of Saints get a kick out of our little group when we pull our rosaries out: They’re starting! I’m sure some saint calls out good-naturedly. Come on! Let’s see what they say today!

Amy: For Jerry who is having surgery today, so that he may have a full recovery and live out his days in great health fulfilling his baptismal promises and that his wife and children will come to know how valuable he is to their family and love him more deeply in all that he does for them.

Mary: What kind of surgery is Jerry having?! I didn’t know this! I just talked with his wife, June, yesterday and she didn’t mention surgery!

Amy: I think they really didn’t want anyone to know. They haven’t told the kids yet; but June called me and asked that we pray for him today.

Mike: I’m not sure why they haven’t told the kids! The kids are old enough; besides, aren’t they going to be mad when they find out their dad had surgery and they weren’t told?

Cheryl: Definitely! I know if my mom had surgery and no one told me I would be upset; but on the other hand, I can see withholding that information from my own kids!

Joan: Do you think his wife doesn’t appreciate him? Gee, I feel bad about that! I know his kids can be a handful but they seem nice enough.

Mary: So what time is Jerry’s surgery? What hospital? Does anyone want to go with me? Should we take June and the kids a few meals?

Amy: I can drive tomorrow if you want! I’ll drop the kids off to school and head over to the parish center…

And so it goes. At some point we get back on track and someone offers another “so that…” prayer and, as I’ve mentioned, I’m sure the Communion of Saints are in stitches by that time, due to our attempts at directing God—and saying the rosary.

Consequently, when our pastor made mention of the “so that…” syndrome we all experience in our prayer life, I took note. I understood what he was talking about; on many levels I can see how that might begin to be a problem—even when it is only our good intentions that move us forward.

Now all this isn’t to say that we shouldn’t offer what we think is best, or what we hope will be an outcome when we pray—or that we won’t get sidetracked when we pray; because we probably will.

What this is to say is that when we pray, our first and foremost guideline is to seek God’s holy and perfect will—and not to direct God or give in to our curiosity about any given situation or seek our personal revenge. Fortunately, there are times in our lives when we are more easily able to access the wisdom that allows us simply to lay things at the foot of the cross; or God gives us friendships with others who may help us let go of the “so that…” control we wish to include in our prayer life.

In the end, while we may think and write and speak our prayers in the “so that…” vernacular, it is important that we keep our hearts focused on seeking God’s holy and perfect will so that He can be God and we can realize we are not!

And if we make the Communion of Saints chuckle along the way at our attempts, well, there’s no harm in that.

Wis 3:1-9 / Rom 5:5-11 / Jn 6:37-40

Sooner or later most of us have the experience of watching a loved one move through his or her final days and then pass from this earth.  It can be a tremendously sad process for those who are about to be left behind and who know in advance the loneliness that will be theirs.  But in most cases there’s a marvelous and touching aspect of the process as well, and that is watching our dying friend progressively letting go of all sorts of things that don’t count, old baggage in the form of grievances, fears, doubts, and so much more.  It’s a grace for the bystanders to watch that happen, and it presses us to let go of our own baggage sooner rather than later.

Yet, even the best of us, even the saints, leave this life with at least a little bit of unfinished business and a bit of left over baggage.  And that’s why we Catholics pray for the dead.  Our prayers are not aimed at changing God’s mind about our departed friends.  God’s mind doesn’t need any changing.  His love for us is unchanging, and he’s always ready and waiting to welcome home even the worst of us.

No, our prayers are for the deceased themselves, that they will relax in the Lord and let the Lord help them let go of what remains of their old baggage, and help them finish what is unfinished in them.  For those whose hearts are loving and trusting of the Lord, it will come naturally to open their hearts and let the Lord in.  For those of us whose hearts are more ambivalent and in the habit of withholding trust, the work will be more difficult.

So hold in prayer all the deceased whom you love, and look to your own heart, that it may be open and welcoming to each of God’s people now.  This day and every day are dress rehearsals for that final day when you will give back your heart to the One who gave it to you.

May your heart be true and open and ready this day and always.

Simple: date night. Date night is a time to reconnect, enjoy each other’s company, and let your hair down.

In the day-to-day routine of raising kids and working—and the commuting, meetings, errands and laundry that go along with it (oh, and hopefully a more or less adequate amount of sleep)—it’s not always easy to schedule quality time with the guy that sleeps next to you. It takes effort and planning to get alone time with your spouse – and sometimes the same can be said about “The Guy Upstairs.”

I’m a sub at the perpetual adoration chapel at our parish during the midnight to 6 a.m. window. This means I fill in for regular adorers from the graveyard shift. Though sometimes I’m initially taken back when my alarm goes off, say at 1:43 in the morning (just enough time to arrive promptly at 2 a.m.), then I remember: I have a date with Jesus! and I perk up.

Though the o’dark-thirty hour may seem less than desirable to some, it works for us. I see it as a time for Jesus and I to reconnect, enjoy each other’s company and let our hair down.

In the busyness of being a wife, mother, employee, and the other hats I wear depending on the day, I can often feel short on prayer time. I think that happens to many of us. And time and time again, when I do pray, I can find myself distracted, with my mind wandering from a “Hail Mary” to something like:

“Do we have clean uniform pants for school tomorrow?”
“I forgot to call the tree trimming guy. Again.”
“Did I take the chicken out of the freezer?”

However at 2:00 in the morning my mind is clear; and where could I possibly need to run off to at that hour? It’s a time when I can truly give Christ the undivided attention he deserves, and an example of what St. Alphonsus Maria Liguori must have been talking about when he said: “…in a quarter of an hour’s prayer spent in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament, you will perhaps gain more than in all the spiritual exercise of the day” (from his book “The Holy Eucharist”).

The benefits of this prayer time far outweigh being a little tired the next day, (not to mention I generally do get to go back to bed for several hours). More than once during this time, in the wee quiet hours of the morning at the adoration chapel, I’ve received a clear message. Clarity in an area that’s been fuzzy in my life, a distinct reminder of a need to reprioritize, and every now and then He even provides something as practical as a lead for a Register story I’m working on. (Important: write it down. Right away. Or it will be long gone.)

Other perks of these date nights: I don’t need to arrange a babysitter, make a reservation, or figure out what to wear. Thank you Lord for this special time together—I’m grateful for the quiet, clarity and comfort in the wee hours of the morning.

Most evenings, when the work of the day is done, and I’m tired — way too tired to do anything that requires much thought or effort — I often pick up my crochet hook and some yarn and begin to pull one loop of the colored string through another … slowly but surely adding a few more rows of intertwined yarn to a hat, scarf, or blanket.  These items usually go to nursing homes or thrift stores; I don’t really need them, I just like to crochet.  Although I’m weary and worn, my hands still like to stay busy and it can be soothing, relaxing work at the end of the day.  (Plus, it keeps my hands off the chips in the pantry!)

I will have my first child-in-law within the year.  My oldest son proposed to his girlfriend this past spring and we are well on our way to a happy June wedding.  Scanning over their wedding registry items, I noticed that there will be a fair amount of blue and brown in their home.  Poring over the list, debating which items I might choose to buy for them, I began to think of something not on the list, but something that I decided to give to my future daughter-in-law anyway …

Remembering back to my early years of marriage, and watching the divorce rate climb higher and higher, I knew that as the mother of the groom, prayers would probably be the best gift I could give to my son and his fiancée.  So, after selecting some pretty blue and brown yarn and taking my crochet hook, I began to make a small-ish blanket of love and prayer for my future daughter-in-law, one that might cover her lap nicely as she works on her netbook, or to wrap around her shoulders to chase away the sniffles during the cold months ahead.

There was so much to pray for as my fingers worked the yarn, creating the blanket. I prayed that my son and future daughter-in-law will be happy, that their wedding plans don’t become a   source of frustration, that they will lean on God during the hard times and thank God for the good times.  I prayed that they would avoid taking each other for granted, that they would make necessary efforts to rekindle their love, that they would be loving parents, that they would follow the will of God.  I also prayed for myself, for a healthy discernment to know what’s being helpful, what’s meddling.  Sometimes I just reiterated the words, “Please bless them, God, please bless them,” over and over, as my fingers rhythmically moved the strands of yarn.

Seamus and his fiancée will be getting married at a church named after St. Gregory the Great.  So I asked this monk-turned-pope to please keep an eye on them, to also pray for them, to be a patron saint for their marriage, to nudge them toward goodness. They will be getting married on the memorial of an obscure blessed:  Blessed Henry the Shoemaker, a gentle cobbler from France who started a confraternity to encourage a devotion to God among local shoemakers.  While crafting one granny square after another, I asked Blessed Henry the Shoemaker to pray for my son and his soon-to-be wife … that they would find God in whatever work they might find themselves doing during their married years.  And their guardian angels — I asked for their help too!

I hope Seamus’s fiancée likes the blanket.  I’m sure she’ll at least be polite and thankfully accept it.  However, even if the blanket never gets used, and gets eaten by moths in the back of her closet, I know that the prayers I have said in my heart while crafting the blanket will not disintegrate.  I know they will be heard and answered; in God’s way, in God’s time.  Their marriage will probably not be perfectly blissful, but I know my prayers will help.  God, Saint Gregory the Great, Blessed Henry, and their Guardian Angels will have listened to me and will be there to help.

Accepting God’s will is the goal of a healthy spiritual life. Acceptance of God’s permissive will is an advanced stage of personal holiness.

Holiness is not the reward of a lifetime of loving service. We give a lifetime of loving service because we are holy. Holiness is not what happens to us if we are kind and forgiving. We are kind and forgiving because we are holy. Acceptance of the difficulties of life is the key ingredient of true holiness.

Those who have attained an advanced degree of holiness have done so primarily because of their basic disposition to do God’s will. This implies a willingness to accept all the bad things that God allows to happen in our life. Even though we do not fully understand it at the time, God can draw good from evil.

Let’s face it, bad things happen to good people. There is an abundance of misery and injustice in the world. Acceptance doesn’t mean that we should become doormats, or become absolute pacifists. It’s normal to complain, and fight back at times.

If one is disposed to do God’s will in all circumstances however, then one learns to accept what God allows to happen in our lives, even if we detest it. (Thy will be done, Thy Kingdom come). Your soul becomes ready for further growth when it reacts with faith not emotions. Paul said, “Be grateful in all circumstances.” Nobody can really do that, but we can be disposed to try.

There will be doubt and confusion all the way along. Even the saints lived in emotional turmoil as they tried to lift up their spirits. We gain heaven one day at a time, even though we may never be clear about what’s happening to us.

Thomas Merton, the Trappist Monk who wrote Seven Story Mountain, was no stranger to controversy and suffering. He wrote a helpful book on solitude, in which he revealed his interior struggle. Here is an excerpt:

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself. The fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe the desire to please you actually does in fact please you. And I hope that I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do that, you will lead me by the right road. Though I may seem lost and in the shadow of death, I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

This humble prayer expresses what most of us feel at times in our life. We are always trying to rise above the confusion and doubt. Our goal is to attain cheerful acquiescence. It sounds impossible, but with God’s grace all things are possible.

God wants to give us a share in His happiness. Trust His love and carry on in all circumstances. Never be discouraged. Pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and start all over again. In this way you can die in the peaceful knowledge that even though you were confused at times, you tried to do your best.

God smiles down upon you.

Catholics who know and love their faith will often say that they have difficulty making time to pray or that they find themselves distracted when they do try to pray. To strengthen our life of prayer, the Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church offers practical guidance from the great masters of the spiritual life and from the Lord himself.

Let’s begin with where to pray. The celebration of Mass and the sacraments, as well as eucharistic adoration, should normally take place in a church or chapel that has been properly arranged and suitably adorned. Private prayer, on the other hand, can take place anywhere. For instance, a person might pray the rosary in a car or on a train. However, to foster a habit of daily prayer, it is good to set aside a place at home, which might be as simple as a favorite chair or a small room that affords a bit of privacy. Not to be forgotten, of course, is the importance of visiting churches and shrines in order to visit the Blessed Sacrament (Compendium, 566).

THREE FORMS OF PRAYER

Jesus tells us to pray “without becoming weary” (Lk 18:1), and St. Paul advises us to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thes 5:17). Does this mean that we should cease our daily activity and simply pray? Whereas contemplative religious spend much of their day absorbed in prayer, most of us are called to punctuate our day with prayer so that everything we say or do is animated by a prayerful spirit (Compendium, 576). That is why we should pray in the morning and evening, before and after meals, or when we are facing some difficulty or temptation. The daily, prayerful reading of Scripture is a treasured and fruitful way to pray, as is the rosary. Laypersons also profit greatly from praying the Liturgy of the Hours, which clergy and religious are required to pray (567).

In general, there are three forms of prayer: vocal prayer, meditation, and contemplative prayer. Each of these requires us to focus on God and his loving kindness, cultivating a heart that is free from distraction (568).

Vocal prayer involves praying with particular words, either mentally or out loud. We use our powers of speech to give voice to prayer, wishing to give thanks and praise to God and to ask for the graces necessary to grow in holiness. The Our Father, which Jesus taught us to pray, is the perfect form of vocal prayer and will be the focus of next month’s column (569).

Meditation comes from the Latin word meditatio, which means “thinking over.” A reflective form of prayer, it often begins with reading the Word of God and allowing it to resonate in our mind and heart. Meditation engages our powers of thought and imagination, as well as our emotions and desires. It marshals our interior powers to focus on the mysteries of our faith and on God’s will for our lives. The practice of daily mediation is a very important way to grow in holiness (570).

Lastly, contemplative prayer is a prayer beyond words, in which we simply gaze upon the Lord in silence and love. It might be likened to the loving silence of a happily married husband and wife who no longer need a lot of words to convey their oneness of mind and heart. Contemplative prayer is a gift of the Holy Spirit that leads us to trustfully surrender ourselves to the Lord and his will for us. The practice of contemplative prayer, as St. Teresa of Avila teaches us, is an indication of our growing friendship with Christ (571).

PRAYING WITH VIGILANCE

If prayer is beautiful and life-giving, why is it often difficult? Why must we battle with distractions and temptations to cut our prayer short or to not pray at all? Of course, Satan does not want us to pray and would prefer that we focus on ourselves rather than “on the things that are above” (Col 3:2). Because of our human weakness, we are only too willing to submit to these temptations. Prayer is a grace that engages our willpower, and we have to pray even when we don’t feel like doing so (Compendium, 572).

Likewise, we sometimes might be tempted to think that God isn’t listening or that he is rejecting our pleas. At other times, we find ourselves so distracted that we want to give up praying altogether. Or we may wonder why our prayer is “dry,” that is, lacking in consolation. But prayer requires vigilance. When we pray almost in spite of ourselves, with humility and trust, we grow in faith and friendship with Christ. We are drawn ever more deeply into his life and love.

Prayer also requires a repentant and trusting heart. We can become lazy about praying or experience difficulty with prayer because we are not willing to repent of our sins (573-4). With the Psalmist we must often say, “a clean heart create in me, O God, renew in me a steadfast spirit” (Ps. 51:12). The more steadfastly we pray in faith, hope and love, the more the Holy Spirit transforms our hearts and makes evident the fruits of the Spirit in our lives (Compendium, 575).

Jesus prayed throughout his life, but especially at the divinely appointed time of his passion and death. We should pray so as to enter into this prayer of Jesus, which he continually offers for us at the right hand of the Father (577).

In the Our Father, we pray, “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” These words are a cornerstone of the culture of life. After all, to say, “thy will be done” is exactly the opposite of saying, “my will be done; it’s all up to my choice.” When we see a child living in the womb, we see the will of God. The Lord does not ever make human beings by accident. Each child exists precisely because God wants that child to exist, no matter what the circumstances surrounding his or her existence.

When we say “Thy will be done,” we are expressing confidence that because God says yes to the child, so can we. He will give us all the strength we need to follow his plan.