Exploring the depth of our prayers
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.
We rely on God’s love and mercy every moment of every day. And boy, do we need it!
But mercy isn’t exclusive to God, as we find in a couple of our prayers.
We name Mary as mother of mercy, which can mean two things. First, she’s the mother of Jesus, and Jesus embodies mercy in action. And second, we honor Mary’s role in heaven as a pathway to receiving mercy from God and the Son.
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.
In the Fatima Prayer, we ask Jesus to “bring all souls to heaven.” How is that different than saying we’d like God to fix all our nasty human tendencies and have us all … get along?
Don’t get me wrong. I would absolutely love to live in a world without sin, without suffering, without anxiety.
But then, I realize that that’s not the point of the world God has created.
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.