Exploring the depth of our prayers
Our readings today reinforce the message that we’re all in this together.
It’s a particularly counter-cultural thought, because our country does its best to celebrate individual accomplishment, independence, and self-sufficiency. Which is all good, I suppose, but the fact is that God created us as society, not just a billion random beings on a planet.
I was talking with a guy recently who is writing a book about becoming an elder. Continue reading “Us”
There’s no question that our Blessed Mother is holy.
Actually, I was a bit puzzled about this when I converted to Catholicism. I guess I’d assumed that the word “holy” was the same as “divine.” Godly. Not of this world, but of heaven.
What I’ve learned is that holiness is something that each of us – every person – is called to be. And can achieve.
I’ve been doing an interesting little experiment lately.
I try changing the prayers from talking about us/we/our to instead talk about I/me/my. It’s just an experiment, to help me see how it feels.
There’s a fascinating result: It feels like I’m taking more ownership and accountability for my relationship with God, Jesus, and Mary.
Growing up, I learned the version of the Lord’s Prayer that you see to the right. When I joined the Catholic Church in 1985, I first learned the Hail Mary and many other prayers based on the traditional language.
Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
I guess I just assumed that this was my “church language”, kind of like dressing up for Mass.
It seemed respectful and appropriate. Formal.
I found out yesterday that a colleague is dying, with only weeks to live. That sort of news really gets you thinking about this gift of life that God has given us, and what lies beyond.
It brings up emotions that are hard to describe.
I dedicated this morning’s Rosary to him. In gratitude, in hope, in support. Because I won’t be able to see him again, I’m relying on my supernatural support system to help him get what he needs.
I’ve always found this phrase to be a bit puzzling:
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
Here’s the issue: we’re asking Mary to pray for us at the hour of our death. First, why is it that we have one hour of our death? We don’t die together, all at the same time, right?