Open Door

   Thirty-First Sunday in Ordinary Time   C  

Readings

  

On Prayer 

Part III:  Why We Pray

Many of you know Fr. Scott Fobare and Fr. Scott Seymour,

both of whom served here in Malone in years past.

(When they’re out somewhere together,

they like to joke about one being Fr. Scott the Greater

and the other being Fr. Scott the Lesser…

…but there’s always debate about which is which.)

These two priests are just back from leading a pilgrimage to Rome,

and only a few weeks before their departure

did they get word that they would have the opportunity

to concelebrate morning Mass with Pope Francis.

What a treat it was to see them in a video online,

sitting right there in the front row of the chapel

at the guest house where the Holy Father resides.

At first I saw them and thought, “My, they look serious and pious!” 

(That’s not how I’m used to seeing them.)

And then I realized what was really going on:

the Pope was preaching in Italian,

and they had absolutely no idea what he was talking about…

It’s really too bad they couldn’t understand

the Pope’s homily that morning,

because his words that day were particularly powerful:

            And we ourselves, when we don’t pray,

            what we’re doing is closing the door to the Lord.

            And not praying is this:

            closing the door to the Lord,

            so that He can do nothing.

            On the other hand, prayer,

            in the face of a problem,

            a difficult situation, a calamity,

            is opening the door to the Lord

            so that He will come.

            So that He builds things,

            He knows to arrange things, to reorganize things.

            This is what praying is:

            opening the door to the Lord,

            so that he can do something.”  (10/8/13)

This is our third and final Sunday

when Fr. Tom and I are preaching about prayer.

We’ve talked about preparing to pray.

We’ve talked about how to pray.

And now it’s time to talk about why we pray.

It rather simple:

we pray because prayer will change your life.

Let’s take a look at Zacchaeus:

that little man with the big bank account

who’s up in a sycamore tree.
Climbing trees is for young boys, 
not grown men of prominence.

Zacchaeus was willing not only to act foolishly,

but to look foolish in front of others

just to sneak a peek at Jesus.

And what a thrill it must have been for him

to hear Jesus call him by name!

The one about whom Zacchaeus is so curious

takes a very personal interest in him.

And what does Jesus say?

“Today I must stay at your house!”

So Zacchaeus opens the door to Jesus…

…and that changes everything for him.

If you’re driving by Notre Dame rectory at night

and see a warm, red glow

in a few of the third floor windows, don’t worry:it’s not because Fr. Stitt is up there playing with matches again;

it’s because, with Bishop LaValley’s permission,

we’ve taken one of the spare rooms in that big old house

and turned it into a simple little chapel.

It just happens to be directly above my bedroom.

I can now lie in bed, look up at the ceiling,

and think, “Jesus is right there!”

The words of the Mass have taken on

a new and deeper meaning for me:

Lord, I am not worthy

that you should enter under my roof…

I’m well aware that it’s an extraordinary privilege

to have the Most Blessed Sacrament reserved in our home—

and it’s one I won’t take for granted.

But no matter where we live,

we are all able to open the door to the Lord

and invite Jesus in.

He wants to stay with us today—

as he did with Jericho’s chief tax collector—

at home and at school, at work and in the car.

Jesus stands ready to enter in

wherever and whenever we would pray.

Why do we pray?

Sometimes it’s because we have an urgent request to make—

whether for ourselves or on behalf of another—

like the persistent widow in the parable two weeks ago.

Sometimes we pray because we’ve screwed up

and need to repent of our sins—

like the tax collector in the temple last Sunday.

And sometimes we pray because we realize the huge debt
of gratitude, adoration, and praise we owe the Lord

for all the good he’s done for us—

like Zacchaeus, who lays his entire life and livelihood at Jesus’ feet.

Regardless of the particular circumstances,

it really does all come down—as Pope Francis put it so well—

to “opening the door to the Lord, so that he can do something.”

There are as many different ways to pray

as there are different people who do it.

The only way to do it wrong is not to pray at all.

So make a decision to pray.

Speak to the Lord from your heart.

Open the door to welcome God in.

And then watch—watch very carefully—
because your life will change.

  

Just Speak...Then Listen

   Thirtieth Sunday in Ordinary Time   C  

Readings

  

On Prayer 

Part II:  How to Pray

If you’ve ever wondered about the value of Catholic education,

this story alone should convince you…

Prayer is a regular part of the school day

for the children down at Holy Family,

and that starts even at the end of the hall—in the pre-K.

There, our youngest students are taught to pray

in a most ingenious way.

Sure, they memorize the words of our traditional Catholic prayers

and can belt them out with gusto.

But their teacher also tells them that, when they pray,

they should close their eyes real tight

and picture Jesus sitting right beside them

with his arm wrapped around their shoulder.

And the kids take it very seriously.

Last year, one little boy went home

and, when it came time to say his prayers before bed,

told his mother she’d have to move:

she was sitting in Jesus’ spot!

Last week, Fr. Tom and I began our three-part series on prayer

with the preliminaries:

on preparing to pray.

But once we’ve made our decision and decided to pray,

once we’ve cleared the way, setting aside a time and place,

making prayer a real priority in our day,

what are we supposed to do?

And so this week, we’re looking at how to pray.

To be honest: the lesson most of us really need

is the same one given those four-year-olds at Holy Family.

About a year ago, I guess,

a parishioner came to me seeking some advice.

He heard us talking about the Year of Faith,

and the message was hitting home.

He regularly came to Mass every Sunday,

but that was about the extent of his Catholic life.

It seems he’d spent enough time in the Pharisee’s spot,

justifying himself and his actions,

and determined it was time to follow the tax collector’s lead:

humbly throwing himself on the mercy of God.

So he returned to confession after a long time away.

He began to feel the need to pray

beyond the time he spent at Mass.

I suggested that he start with the Rosary,

and he took me up on it.

But after awhile,

he sensed that he ought to take things deeper still.

Based on our discussion, here’s what he did:

            I went to the chapel at St. Joseph’s—he told me—

            since I knew it’d be quiet there,

            and I pulled up a chair real close to the tabernacle.

            And I just started to talk to Jesus like you said, Fr. Joe.

            I talked about my thoughts and feelings,

            made apologies and requests.

            I unloaded everything, and was completely honest.

            I must have talked straight for 15 minutes.

            And then—since you said I should also listen—

            I stayed real quiet for five minutes or so.

            I tried not to focus on anything in particular.

            That’s when I heard a voice.

            It sounded like my own inner voice,

            but it was saying something

            I hadn’t at all been thinking about.

            It said, “If you’re sitting here

            whispering to a loaf of bread,

            then you’re a crazy person!”

            Jesus had never before revealed himself directly to me,

            and now he was doing so with a sense of humor—

            which I really appreciate.

            He wanted me to know, Father, that he’s really there.

            What a difference it made!

            Talking to Jesus personally

            has made grace more obvious to me.

            I can feel God giving me the help I need,

            since I don’t have the willpower on my own.

            And it has improved my sense of self-worth.

            I must be worth something for my Savior to speak to me!

            At first, speaking personally to Jesus

            was awkward—really awkward!

            But it gets easier and more natural.

            Now, I speak to Jesus every morning after my Rosary

            and every evening before bed.

            I don’t always get such a clear response.

            But because he’s already let me know

            that he’s there and that he’s listening,

            it doesn’t matter.

            I have someone to go to who will always be there.

            That’s a huge comfort.

At first, this notion of prayer can seem a bit simplistic, even naïve.

Is it really that easy?  Just a matter of talking and listening?

But none other than St. Teresa of Avila,

a Doctor of the Church noted for her writings on prayer, says:

            Prayer in my opinion is nothing else

            than a close sharing between friends;

            it means taking time frequently to be alone with him

            who we know loves us.

Prayer is all about working on a relationship.

It’s an ongoing conversation,

and the conversation will undoubtedly deepen

as we get more familiar with each other over time.

Think of it this way:

the decision to pray is like “making a date” with God.

Once we know when and where we plan to meet,

we need to consider what we’re going to talk about.

Traditional prayers said from memory

are like the standard formulas we use for polite conversation

with someone we’ve just met:

“Hello.  How are you?”  “Oh, I’m fine.  Do you come here often?”

But a relationship can’t get very far

if the conversation stops there!

And so we need to open up and be honest.

We mustn’t be hollow and puffed with pride, like the Pharisee,

as if we need to impress God;

instead, we must be genuine and straightforward—

like the tax collector—

even when the truth isn’t so pretty.

Note that the tax collector’s words are very few;

it’s not their number, but their sincerity, that counts.

There are times—

especially when we’re under stress, or tired, or in doubt—

when we can’t find the words with which to pray,

and so we turn to traditional prayers we first memorized as children.

But there are also times when our own words

are really the only appropriate ones.

And then there are times when any words at all

will only get in the way.

Much better—of course—for our heart to be without words

than for our words to be without heart.  (cf. J. Bunyan)

As Jesus reminded us and all his disciples last Sunday,

we need to pray, to persevere in prayer,

to “pray always without becoming weary.”

It’s not a matter of keeping the rules,

but of deepening a relationship.

It’s not about checking something off the list,

but about checking in with your nearest and dearest friend.

So slide over on the bed.

Move that chair closer to the tabernacle.

Jesus is real and very near.

Open your heart.  Speak with humility. 

And then…be sure to listen.

  

Bothered

A special series starting this week...and a bonus feature: you can even listen to me preach...

   Twenty-Ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time   C  

Readings

  

On Prayer 
Part I:  Preparing to Pray

Friday night, I went to a friend’s birthday party.

Our hosts have a two-year-old son—Liam—
who provided us with constant entertainment:

he sings; he dances; he tells jokes.

It doesn’t hurt, of course,

that with a head covered in blond curls,

he’s cute as a button.

But beyond his showmanship,

I was just as enthralled to watch how this tike

interacts with his dad.

“Dad, come play with me!” (That request was frequent.)

“Dad, I need to blow my nose!”

“No, Dad, I’m not tired!”

Liam never tired of letting his father know
just what was on his young mind.

And Liam’s father never tired of hearing from his son.

The boy had complete trust in making his every request.

He might not always get what he wants,

but he has faith that whatever he’s going to get

is going to be good.

Over the past few months,

our parish Pastoral Council has been reading a book together

and discussing a chapter or two
at the beginning of each meeting.

One of the very first chapters was on prayer,

and a lively conversation ensued.

It was a common concern that prayer

is something we Catholics often take for granted.

We know we’re supposed to do it,

but many of us aren’t exactly sure how…

…and we worry about getting it wrong.

As a result, the Council asked if Fr. Tom and I

might do a little focused preaching on prayer.

And so this Sunday,

we’re starting a three-part series on the subject:

            I. Preparing to Pray;

            II. How to Pray; and

            III. Why We Pray.

Jesus teaches us this Sunday

about the necessity “to pray always without becoming weary.”

The parable he tells is equally a lesson about the fact

that God never becomes weary of our prayers.

If an unjust judge will eventually do what’s right

in favor of an annoying widow,

how much more our Father in heaven—

in a way surpassing even Liam’s very attentive dad—

must love us, and want what is best for us,

and delight in hearing from us over and over and over again!

St. John Vianney put it so well:

“Our dear God loves to be bothered.”

For us grown-ups who’ve lost much of our childlike spontaneity,

“to pray always without becoming weary”

isn’t our natural inclination,

so a little discipline is needed.

When it comes to preparing to pray—

to setting the stage to regularly bother God—

I can think of five simple steps that I hope you’ll find helpful.

Step 1: Make a decision.

“To pray always without becoming weary”

requires a commitment.

The vast majority of Catholics pray pretty sporadically—

when the mood hits or when crisis strikes.

But is it enough to pray just when you feel like praying?

“The most important part of praying correctly 
is doing it regularly.…

The soul lives on prayer.”  (R. Guardini)

And experience has proven the sad truth:

“Someone who does not pray regularly

will soon not pray at all.”  (YouCat #499)

Commit yourself to praying every day—

particularly, at the start of the day,

when your mind is still clear
and to get things off on the right foot.

Make a decision.

Step 2: Be faithful.

Getting in a regular habit of prayer takes a little work.
Beginners often get distracted or discouraged.

Usually, their biggest mistake is aiming too high.

Start small.

Set a manageable goal, and build up from there.

And even though you struggle,

even though it sometimes seems like it doesn’t help,

be patient and stick with it.

Remember: “Prayer is not a microwave. 

Prayer is a crock-pot.”  (R. Guarendi)

Make a decision.  Be faithful.

Step 3: Make time.

If prayer is going to be a daily practice,

then we have to make it a real priority.

From the very beginning,

Christians have prayed at set moments during the day—

in the morning, before bed, at meals.

Prayer asks us to schedule a regular time—

and it ought to be truly valuable time, not just “spare” time.

We don’t find time but make time to pray.

“But I’m so busy, Father!”

I know.

Here’s what St. Francis de Sales had to say to that objection:

“Each Christian needs half an hour of prayer each day,

except when we are busy; then we need an hour.”

Keep in mind that the more generous you are toward God,

the more generous you’ll find 
that God is with you. (cf. St. Ignatius of Loyola)

Make a decision.  Be faithful.  Make time.

Step 4: Have a plan.

Once you have some quality time set aside—

even if it’s only five or ten minutes to start—

you need to know what you’re going to do with it.

So find the right place—in your home, outdoors, in church.

Then consider your posture: 
standing, sitting, walking, kneeling.

And develop a routine for your prayer—

a set pattern, a ritual—

to which you return again each day.

Your prayer might take the form of daily Mass or the Rosary;
maybe it’ll be reading from the Bible or a devotional book.

It will probably take some trial and error, 
but try different things until you find one that fits.

Just keep trying, and don’t give up.

Make a decision.  Be faithful.  Make time.  Have a plan.

Step 5: Let God speak.

Part of our plan must always be to leave some room for silence.

We need to speak up when we pray,

but we also need to listen.

Our God is not distant.

Rather, God longs to be our personal friend, guide, and advisor.

Unlike a human parent,

our heavenly Father can give each and every one of us

his complete and undivided attention.

God is keenly interested in you and all that’s going on in your life.

So be listening for his voice.

Have faith that he only wants what is best for you,

and believe that discovering his will and then doing it

is the only real path to happiness.

The true value of praying “always without becoming weary”

is not that God will eventually hear us,

but that we will finally hear God.  (cf. W. McGill)

Make a decision.  Be faithful.  Make time.  
Have a plan.  Let God speak.

In the course of Friday’s birthday party,

a plate of food was prepared for little Liam.

After he was given his place at the table,

all he did was stare at it.

“You need to eat, Liam,” said his mom.

“But we no pray,” he answered.

So we all stopped and together made the Sign of the Cross.

But before we could say, “Bless us, O Lord…”

Liam added, “And turn off the music!”

Then we prayed, Liam shouted, “Amen!”

and dug into his dinner.

Even at two-years-old, Liam gets it!

A decision had been made and he was faithful to it;

time was set aside and he had a plan for it;

he even recognized the need for some silence.

Since Liam can do it, so can—so must—we!

Is prayer enough? Is it the whole of the Christian life?

Of course not.

But it is essential.

And—really—it’s where it all begins.

Prepare to regularly bother your heavenly Father.

Pray without becoming weary,

for God never wearies of hearing from you.