Let us go to the Mountain and Pray

Ninteenth Sunday of the Year (A)
7 August 2011
St. Anthony, Des Moines


In the Gospel today we hear about how our Lord Jesus Christ, the exemplar and pioneer of our faith, showed us by his example the importance of prayer.

I know we often talk about prayer – or at least we used to. Prayer today seems to be disappearing from the public forum – at times violently being targeted, as if somehow our faith isn’t considered a constitutive part of who we are; or as if the first amendment of the Constitution, stating “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances” could somehow be contorted as a ban on prayer and our public witness as faithful Catholics.

I fear that today, many of us have forgotten how important it is to pray. I think many of us think that the demand of our faith to pray is somehow a hinderance on our freedom and the precious moments of time we have as our lives have become unduly busy. We think, “Oh, I’m so busy with work, with my family, with taking the kids to all their sporting events, etc. etc. How can I find time to sit down and pray?”

I think the first thing we need to realize is what prayer is. When Jesus went up the mountain, he didn’t take with him a bible or a rosary or fifteen devotional booklets to read and do what was in them. Not that these things aren’t good and helpful, but prayer isn’t about getting a list of tasks done, like going through a shopping list making sure everything was filled out.

Prayer is a personal encounter with God; personal, because our God is a person – a communion of three persons, in fact. When we pray, it isn’t about moving beads across fingers, but about the time spent in conversation with one who loves us – with one whom we must love. Think about time spent with a close loved one – a spouse, a family member, a good friend. I think about friends of mine – close friends, especially those who live far away from me. We make an intentional effort to call each other on the phone and just talk – spending time together and just enjoying one another. This is true, authentic love.

This is what we are called to do with God. To intentionally set aside time for him – time to converse with him. Time to simply be with him. Time to love him. When we set aside time for friends, does this seem like a burden? And yet, why do we think this way when it comes to our friendship with God?

That’s right, we are called to a deep, loving friendship with God. Prayer isn’t about accomplishing a task, but, as St. Therese of Lisieux said, “For me, prayer is a surge of the heart; it is a simple look turned toward heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy.” Prayer doesn’t magically take away all sorrow and sadness in our lives, but gives us the opportunity to converse with God, who knows us better than we know ourselves, and who remains faithful even in the trials of life. Saint Teresa of Avila, who we call the Doctor of Prayer, once famously remarked to God, “If this is how you treat your friends, it’s no wonder you have so few of them!” Only a friend – a good, true friend – could speak like that.

So, how do we pray? There are all sorts of ways: Eucharistic adoration, the rosary, scripture reading, devotionas, etc. Last week, I mentioned in my homily St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose memorial it was, and I alluded to his method of prayer. Today, as I conclude this homily, I’d like to take you through a very short prayer, highly encouraged by St. Ignatius to be done at the end of every day.

<Introduction to Examen prayer>

The Hunger in our Hearts

Eighteenth Sunday of the Year (A)
31 July 2011
St. Anthony, Des Moines



What are you hungry for? We live today in a world which is filled with so many things that we often ask questions like this – what do you want? Where do you want to eat? It’s a question some people don’t get to ask because they don’t have much resources or much food.

Most of us remember Blessed Theresa of Calcutta – Mother Theresa – and her work on the streets with the dying poor. She took to heart the words Christ spoke on the cross, when he said “I thirst”. She remembered that anyone who gives but a cup of water to someone in need for the sake of Christ would know his reward.

Yet, Blessed Theresa knew that, on the cross, it wasn’t water that Christ was calling for. Certainly he was thirsty from his agony and his passion, but he wanted something more than water. He was thirsty for something that would truly satisfy. He was thirsty for our love.

Today, we come before this altar as hungry people, like the crowd that followed Jesus. What are we hungry for? Many of us have lived at times aware of a hunger deep within us. This hunger can make us feel alone, unsatisfied, worthless, unloved. How many of us have tried to fill this hunger, this hole in our hearts, with things that don’t really satisfy.

Certainly, we’ve all known someone who has tried anything and everything to fill this hunger. There are people who think fulfilling every fleeting desire – instant gratification – will fill the hunger inside. How many of us know someone like this? I’m sure many of us have watched a relative or friend aching with this hunger, sliding towards some dangerous things, and wanted to say, “My friend, what are you doing? Why are you drinking so much? Why are you using drugs? Why are you partying all night, and falling into every sort of sin? Don’t you see that this isn’t making you happy? Sure, it might give you some pleasure for a time, but then the hunger comes back worse than before, and you become trapped and addicted. Why spend your money for what is not bread; your wages for what fails to satisfy? Heed me, and you shall eat well, you shall delight in rich fare. Come to me heedfully, listen, that you may have life. Look for something that truly satisfies; something that makes you more fully who you were created to be.”

Some of the older – uhh, more experienced folks – will understand this question: Who made us? God made us! See how easy this is. Why did God make us? To know, love, and serve him in this world and to be happy with him forever in the next. This hunger inside us isn’t meant for the things of this world, but only for God, who alone can fulfill our hunger.

Let me tell you the story of St. Ignatius of Loyola, whose memorial is ordinarily celebrated today. St. Ignatius was born into nobility and became a soldier. He was what our society would call a man’s man. He was strong and brave. After fighting in a number of battles, a cannonball broke one of his legs. He was laid up in surgery for weeks, having had very painful surgery on his leg before anisthetics were available.

Ignaitus was what most action movies depict the hero to be. So, while he was recuperating from his surgery, he requested books about knights and their valiantry so that he could read them for his pleasure. However, the hospital only had the bible and some books on the life of Christ and various saints. Since it was either that or nothing, he read. What surprised him was how strong and awesome Christ and the saints were, how brave and heroic in all sorts of ways unknown to him before. After reading, he wanted to be like St. Francis and St. Dominic.

As time passed, he noticed a key difference about these stories of the saints from those of the knights. When he read the stories of knights, he would be pleased for a time and then felt empty again. When he read about the saints, his heart remained full. He reflected and prayed about this, and discovered that this was God filling that hunger in his heart.

St. Ignaius of Loyola discovered the food that truly satisfies. He learned how to discern – to see how nothing else fulfilled the hunger deep in his heart than that desire to be like the saints, united to Christ. He was so filled with the fire of God’s love that he started the Jesuit order. His method of prayer, inspired by his time in the hospital, is still taught and used by thousands of priests and religious today.

My dear friends, do not be afraid of being hungry. Enter into that hunger, know it well, and you will discover that you are hungry for Christ. Come, then, to this altar, and eat the bread that satisfies and drink that which truly fills our hearts. Drink of the torrent fo God’s love, until you can’t drink any more. Then, come back for more. Keep coming to this altar, and give him the love in your heart to drink. Then, nothing will be able to separate you from the love of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord.