Posts Tagged ‘faith’

Prayer for the First Day of School

· Monday, 10 Aug 2009, 6 pm · Saint Lawrence, pray for us

I was asked by my principal to do the prayer for the first of our teacher meetings this week. She requested that it be connected to the theme for the school year, which happens to be an emphasis on the school’s mission statement. Fortunately we have a very good mission statement. In fact, the mission statement can easily be made a prayer with a slight rewording. I borrowed most of it for the third sentence in the second paragraph after the poem. Thank you Holy Spirit for helping me to write this.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, Son of Man,

Help us this morning to pray like You, out of a sense of abundance, these words of your servant, St. John of the Cross, that seem so fitting for why we are here as a school community:

The flame of love
Grows as it is divided
It increases by being shared
From one, then two, then three
And darkness is transformed into glory
And the walls reflect its light
Share your flame!
Share the flame!

The Sisters of Mercy named this school after your mother to honor You. She was the first to say “yes” to sharing the Flame, to sharing You with the world.

The most important people in the world walk through our classroom doors. Help us to share the Flame, to share You, with them. Make us a deep faith community so that we may serve our students and their families with mercy and compassion.

We are in the learning business. Open us up to grace, the divine stimulus plan, so that we may create a profit for You.

It is all about You, Jesus.

We pray in Your most holy name. Amen.

Realists, Faith, and Miracles

· Wednesday, 1 Jul 2009, 1 pm · Saint Simeon Salus, pray for us

Because I once was an agnostic who thought he was a realist, this caught my attention (emphasis added):

It is not miracles that bring a realist to faith. A true realist, if he is not a believer, will always find in himself the strength and ability not to believe in miracles as well, and if a miracle stands before him as an irrefutable fact, he will sooner doubt his own senses than admit the fact. And even if he does admit it, he will admit it as a fact of nature that was previously unknown to him. In the realist, faith is not born from miracles, but miracles from faith. Once the realist comes to believe, then, precisely because of his realism, he must also allow for miracles. The Apostle Thomas declared that he would not believe until he saw, and when he saw, he said: “My Lord and my God!” Was it a miracle that made him believe? Most likely not, but he believed first and foremost because he [chose] to believe, and maybe already fully believed in his secret heart even as he was saying: “I will not believe until I see.”

— spoken by The Author in The Brothers Karamazov, Bk 1, Ch 5, “Elders”

It’s not a coincidence that my confirmation saint is Saint Thomas the Apostle. (Should have waited till the 3rd to post this.)

Two Ways of Knowing

· Wednesday, 3 Jun 2009, 10 am

I want to record an email conversation that occurred between a friend and I back in late February. My spiritual director reminds me to listen—or rather take my own advice—to what I say to other people. This seems particularly germane to my current sense of lostness.

From David:

Epistemology is something I think about from time to time: How do we know what we know? The scientific method is pretty trusted in our world, as are the five senses. Of course, we know that neither of those avenues to knowledge are infallible; nonetheless, we have to rely on them for practical measures, and unless someone is in a philosophy class, he or she will likely never question either avenue.

My question is, do you think faith is another way to know things? I’m specifically thinking of verses like 2 Cor. 5:7, which says “live by faith, not by sight”.

My reply:

Yes!!

Give the following four objects to a kid and tell him to sort them into two groups: a baseball, a basketball, a bat, a hoop.

Some kids will group the baseball and basketball together and the bat and hoop together based on shape or external properties. Some kids will group the baseball with the bat and the basketball with the hoop based on functionality.

Take another group of words: religion, technology, science, magic.

[Note the two senses of the word magic. There is magic as in magic tricks, which is entertainment of illusion that attempts to deceive or misdirect the senses in believing something that is not real. And there is magic as in magic spells and potions (i.e. alchemy), which are attempts to manipulate things and people. It is this second sense of magic that is implied.]

Many people will group religion and magic together against science and technology. Maybe it is because of the culture and the media’s use of the terms. Maybe it is because of a presumption of science’s ability to solve problems and its use in developing technology. Maybe it is due to the demotion of magic to illusion or fantasy and the unprovableness of religion.

But from a functional point of view, religion and science should go together because both are forms of knowing. This makes more sense when you group technology and magic together because both are forms of control—controlling nature, controlling our environment, controlling the things (or people) we want. People easily see technology this way, but they forget that was the exact same reason people in the “old” days looked toward magic.

The big assumption made by both science and religion is that there exists patterns in the universe. The evidence is overwhelmingly obvious. Science might say that the human mind evolved and religion might say that the human mind was made, but both agree that the human mind can reason and can know (recognize) these patterns of the universe. (Technology and magic are means to manipulate that pattern for our control over it.)

Science and religion are two ways of knowing. They do not mutually exclude each other but rather compliment each other. Science is good at knowing the material world, but it is not good at answering questions of a philosophical/spiritual nature. C.S. Lewis’ devil Screwtape called us amphibians—half animal, half spirit. The material and spiritual do not exclude each other but compliment each other.

There is a short scene from the movie Red Planet that illustrates this:

Chantilas: [Suppose] we just finished poisoning the earth and everyone was dead in a hundred years. Then what was the point of anything? Art, beauty—all gone—the Greeks, the Constitution, people dying for freedom, ideas. None of it meant anything? What about religion? Do we give up on God too?

Gallagher: You didn’t just give up being a scientist one day, did you?

Chantilas: I realized science couldn’t answer any of the really interesting questions. So, I turned to philosophy. I’ve been searching for God ever since. Who knows, I may pick up a rock and it’ll say underneath, “Made by God.” The universe is full of surprises.

How can we “know” the answers to the really interesting questions, like why are we here, is there meaning to life, etc.? Are there patterns to be observed in the universe to help answer these questions? Can we know and reason about any of these questions? Well, does not posing the questions in themselves point to the fact that we can know and reason with them?

Science “sees” and explores the patterns. Religion must sense the patterns through other means. All of which might help explain the quote from Scripture, “live by faith, not by sight.” Faith is a little like a blind man seeing in the dark.

What do you think?

David again:

First of all, thank you so much for that response. It is pretty much exactly what I needed to hear.

I’ll go ahead and explain where my question came from. I was teaching the teenage bible class at my church this past Wednesday night, and we were talking about the verse I mentioned. As I was asking the kids what they thought it meant to “live by faith”, I remembered my philosophy teacher in college (brilliant man, btw: studied at Oxford, a fantastic Christian apologist) saying that the weakness of rationalism is its refusal to acknowledge that there are other ways to know things besides plain ol’ logic. The way I remember it is that the Divine has its own system of revelation and being understood.

So I told those kids that I thought the verse meant we could know things a third way. But even as I said it, I wondered if I still believed it as I had in college. …

I really like the grouping task you suggested, particularly because I like to say that magic is proof our senses are not infallible: seeing doesn’t mean believing. Lately, too, I’ve been thinking some about trying to explain why people love each other and do kind things for each other. Christianity, of course, has something to say about that, and of course some scientists do too, with their ideas on how natural selection encourages selflessness, as do anthropologists with their sociological explanations. Actually, I shouldn’t say I’ve “lately” been thinking about this—I’ve been thinking about it since I first heard the issue posed in college.

Finally, then, I must say I totally agree with you: Yes!!

And to finish, my reply:

“…weakness of rationalism is its refusal to acknowledge that there are other ways to know things besides plain ol’ logic.” — God is transcendent. If you take the idea of transcendence, then the nature of God is obviously above the nature of the material universe. Push the idea of transcendence further, then God is also above our images and words and concepts about Him. In other words, God is above our knowledge that uses images and words and concepts. But that does not mean we can not know God. You hit the nail on the head with the example of love—if one has an experience of true love, he or she “knows” the other person beyond words or images or even concepts. Poetry and literature and art are attempts to convey that knowing.

I have been listening to a series on the 12th century mystic St. John of the Cross. He calls it “dark knowledge” of God. Not that it is knowledge of darkness or evil, but rather that it lacks the light from our words and images and concepts. It is a knowing without knowing. Everything in the world says that you don’t know, but you do. St. John of the Cross is the one famous for the concept of the dark night of the soul, where as one approaches closer in union with God, your senses and your images and words become in affect blind or darkened because God is beyond your senses and images and words. It feels like a dark night.

Hmm…reminds me of what St. John of the Cross said, “God refuses to be known except by love.”

Ten Years Ago

· Sunday, 3 May 2009, 11 pm

Today marks the ten anniversary of the 1999 Oklahoma tornado outbreak, spawning 66 tornadoes killing 48 people and injuring many others. The “big one” blew up along I-44 from Chickasha, through open country, smashing the community of Bridge Creek, through some more open country, over a river, and then entered the Oklahoma City Metro area cutting a wide path of destruction through the heavily populated areas of Moore, Del City, a corner of Tinker AFB, and finally petering out halfway through Midwest City. This F5 tornado, over a mile wide for much of its path, reached a record wind speed of 316 mph.

Much has changed in these past ten years. The visible scars on land have been mostly healed. Only a keen observer would note the subtle change in the style of newer homes over older ones while driving through neighborhoods in Moore and Del City. The hidden scars are still there, and only become visible when the tornado sirens suddenly blare.

On a personal note, much has changed in the last ten years. My wife graduated from college with her second degree after a short career in the air force. I had a second open heart surgery, this time to replace the aortic valve. My 3rd and 4th children were born. My 1st child graduated high school and is about to graduate college in two weeks. The 2nd child is about to learn to drive. Two major bouts of depression, a change in high schools for teaching, a new house, a dog, two cats, cell phones, iPod. My beard has turned gray, the bald spot has grown and the hair thinned out a little. Blessed with 20-20 vision, my eyes are beginning to weaken. Can’t forget the 25-pound weight gain. And most important of all, saying “yes” to faith and Jesus and the Church.

“Man, I ain’t changed, but I know I ain’t the same.”

Trust

· Saturday, 3 Jan 2009, midnight

The following poem/prayer is by Fr. J. Michael Sparough, S.J. It originally appeared in the journal Presence, Vol. 1, Number 1, January, 1995. My spiritual director read it to me about two months ago from the book, A Retreat with Our Lady, Dominic and Ignatius.

This poem/prayer hits the very center of everything for me. Every line applies except the one on sermons, but since I’ve given quite a few talks at retreats, I suppose it is similar enough. (I have done some light editing with the first line, line breaks, indentations, and stanzas.)

Father,
I admit the truth hidden in my heart.

I’ve read books on trust.
I’ve heard tapes on trust.
I’ve written journals on trust.
I’ve preached sermons on trust.
But let’s begin by my admitting:
     I don’t trust You, God.

I’d like to trust You.
I’ve prayed to trust You.
I’ve told others to trust You.
I’ve told others I trust You.
But the truth is closer to fear.

I’m afraid. I’m afraid of You.
Yes, You:
     all-judging, all-seeing, all-knowing You.
Yes, me:
     semi-controlled, semi-consistent, semi-confused me.
I’m afraid of what will happen,
     if I ever really entrust my life
     into Your all-powerful, almighty,
     all (hopefully) merciful hands.

I’ve heard stories about Your sainted friends,
     waiting dark nights in the cell of their souls,
     losing their heads at the most inopportune times,
     fed to the lions for lunch,
     or dressed up for dinner, roasted medium rare.

You see I’ve talked to Your Son, and He assures me
     no servant is greater than the one who sends.
So, yes, I trust You’ll lead me to a lonely hill
     where three nails and
     two wooden cross beams are waiting.
This won’t come as a welcomed surprise.

And to tell you the truth, I can’t trust You’ll return
     three days later to keep your promise
     to roll that stone away.
I’ve been abandoned and betrayed already, thank You.
The most trust I can muster is to entrust You my heart—
     five minutes at a time.

Come, take me as Your own.
I give You all I am, and all I ever hope to be.
I am Your servant, Your friend, Your child.
Transform me, possess me, liberate me, fill me.
Do with me what You will—
     for the next five minutes.

Then, please, come back again.
Knocking at the door of my heart,
Reextend the invitation.

— J. Michael Sparough, S.J.

If I Stand

· Saturday, 25 Oct 2008, 9 am

So if I stand let me stand on the promise
     That you will pull me through
And if I can’t, let me fall on the grace
     That first brought me to You
And if I sing let me sing for the joy
     That has born in me these songs
And if I weep let it be as a man
     Who is longing for his home

— Rich Mullins

The Coin of Faith

· Thursday, 10 Apr 2008, 1 pm

From Br. Joseph —

There are two sides to faith, just as there are two sides to a coin.

One side of the “coin of faith” looks externally, that is, it looks outside of our selves to others for examples and models of living faith. They are witnesses, and it is in accepting their experiences, their testimony, that helps us to believe. (Note: witness, with-ness)

If we look beyond those who have an immediate influence on us, we can see other people have influenced them, and still others have influenced those people, and so. In a very few steps, we begin to see a whole network of witnesses, a web of belief. Follow this web of belief, this chain of testimony, back to its origin, and we find the Apostles, the First Witnesses to Jesus. (Note: testimony, Old Testament, New Testament)

The other side of the coin of faith looks internally, that is, it looks within to our own personal experiences of God. These experiences help us to say internally within our hearts, “I believe.”

In other words, each of us who believe, those who have opened our selves to the possibility of God, can identify certain moments in our lives where we have experienced something that is not of ourselves, something bigger, something more. A few of us may have had specific, big life-changing moments. Or more likely, most of us have had several small moments, almost insignificant in their first appearance, but still very powerful, transformative, and energizing.

It is part of human nature to have preferences, and so we naturally tend to depend on or rub one side of our coin of faith more than the other. That is okay, but over-dependence on one particular side is not healthy faith. It does not make us a whole person, both inside and out. There must be some sort of balance because there will be times when doubt challenges to knock our faith down.

Doubt is not always a bad thing. It makes us stronger and helps weed out the unnecessary stuff that we cling to, much like separating the chaff from the wheat. It makes faith honest. Scripture calls this purification, smelting down the gold till it is pure. And it is the interdependence of the two sides of faith, between the internal and external, that keeps both sides of faith honest, real, and balanced.

At the beginning of our journey, we were given a coin of faith. We chose to accept or reject this gift. If we accepted, then it is our task to carry this coin in our hearts, rubbing it in times of need, times of doubt, in bad times and good. Times of struggle or sorrow polish it to a high luster and remind us that God is with us (Emmanuel). Times of joy allow us to bask in gratitude and the glow of Jesus in its shine, and radiate that to others around us, to make God present in the world, to be witness (with-ness).

And at the end of our journey, we will have to hand our coin of faith back to God. We will not need it in our Father’s home. Faith is needed only for the journey. Besides, the coin of faith was never really ours to begin with. It really belongs to His Son. Jesus paid our way. He gives the coin of faith its value.

Our Lady of Mercy, pray for us…

P.S. If your coin of faith has been lost, do not worry. Jesus promised all things are found again if they want to be.

Dare to Trust

· Tuesday, 19 Feb 2008, 10 am

From Br. Joseph —

This is the second reflection on seven signposts for the season of Lent (and for all seasons).

Signposts give us direction. They point to some place. They involve action, movement. Many signposts call us to remember something important, some thing that is already there but is often covered up by the minutia of daily life. Signposts represent a choice—to follow or not to follow. It takes grace to see a signpost and courage to follow where it points.

Dare to trust.

This signpost is a shortened form of the phrase “dare to move faith to trust”. The idea comes from a line in a short essay by Jon Zuck, “It is Not About Belief”.

In the New Testament, the Greek word pisteo is almost always translated as belief or faith. However, it also means trust, and in the Gospels, it is this trust in God that Jesus means by the word faith. Think about this a moment, “Oh ye of little faith” becomes “Oh ye of little trust”.

Scripture often talks about the “fear of the Lord”. This has nothing to do with the emotion of fear. Fear and trust do not go together. According to Fr. Thomas Keating, “fear of the Lord” is a technical term meaning right relationship with God. It should be thought of as amazement, wonder, awe. (Awe as in awesome, awestruck; terrifying as in terrific, great, intense.)

Believing in God is one thing (a very important thing); trusting God is another. Both are part of faith, but the real test of faith is not believing, it is trusting. In trusting God, faith is purified, made perfect.

There will be times in your life when nothing in your experience will confirm, support, or backup faith. Your faith will seem to stand alone at a crossroads. A choice must be made. The world says one thing; faith says another. Which one do you trust?

Patience with others is love;
Patience with self is hope;
Patience with God is faith.
     — Adel Bestauras

Keep hope alive.
Dare to trust.

Our Lady of Mercy is praying for us…

Keep Hope Alive

· Thursday, 14 Feb 2008, 2 pm

From Br. Joseph —

This is the first reflection on seven signposts for the season of Lent (and for all seasons).

Signposts give us direction. They point to some place. They involve action, movement. Many signposts call us to remember something important, some thing that is already there but is often covered up by the minutia of daily life. Signposts represent a choice—to follow or not to follow. It takes courage and grace to follow where a signpost points.

Keep hope alive.

This signpost comes from a priest and former campus minister of Mount St. Mary. He always signed his letters with this phrase. It is a reminder of the importance of hope.

Hope and faith are like two sides of the same coin. Sometimes faith seems broken, hidden, lost, and so hope pulls one through these dark times. Sometimes hope seems lost, and it is faith that pushes one through. Faith is the muscle, the driving force; hope is the spark of light that illuminates the way and warms a heart.

There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him, that in the end, the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.

— J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (p.901)

This passage reminds me of Easter morning, of Christ’s Resurrection, and of His victory over death. There is indeed “light and high beauty for ever beyond” the Shadow’s reach.

Keep hope alive—for the little things today, and for the big things over a life time.

Our Lady of Mercy is praying for us…

Seven Signposts

· Monday, 11 Feb 2008, 2 pm

Signposts point to where we want to go. Follow, or don’t follow. There are seven signposts listed below because seven is the number of completeness. No claim of originality is made for the signs, excerpt maybe for their grouping.

Keep hope alive.
Dare to trust.
Surrender to grace.
• • • Reflect love. • • •
Gravitate to humility.
Pray always.
All is gift.

Keep hope alive.
This signpost comes from a priest that used to be campus minister at the Mount. He would always sign the end of his letters with this. It is a reminder the importance of hope. Hope and faith are like two sides of the same coin. Sometimes faith seems hidden, so hope pulls you through the dark times. Sometimes hope seems lost, but faith pushes one through. Faith is the muscle, the driving force; hope is the spark of light that illuminates the way and warms a cold heart.

Dare to trust.
This signpost is a shortened form of “dare to move faith to trust” as described in the short essay, “It is Not About Belief” by Jon Zuck. Believing in God is one thing; trusting God is another. Both are part of faith, but the real test of faith is not believing, it is trusting. There are times when nothing in your experience will confirm, support, or backup faith. The world says one thing; faith says another. Which one do you trust? In the Gospels, Jesus implies trust when He talks about faith.

Surrender to grace.
This signpost comes from a line in the book, The Lord by Romano Guardini. (An excellent book that contains short reflections on nearly every episode of Jesus’ life in Scripture.) Although the sentence was referencing something specific, it applies to everyting. God’s grace rains (or reigns?) down upon us every second to open our eyes to see Him and His love for us, and calls us into a deeper relationship with Him. We resist. We need to stop resisting. “Surrender” can also mean “abiding” as referred to in St. John’s Gospel.

Surrender to grace can also mean to stop resisting the present moment. Enough grace will be given to you to get through whatever you need to do. In other words, do what is right when you see that something or someone must be attended to—this is an opportunity given to you to love and God will help you through it.

• • • Reflect love. • • •
The center signpost. There is a signpost for hope and one for faith (trust). Love of course needs to be included. And being the greatest of the three, plus a direct reference to the nature of God, it has the three bullets highlighting it. All signposts ultimately point to this place. We are not the source of love. God is. We do not possess love. Love possesses us. We do not create love. We channel love. And love, unlike the limited nature of material things, grows as it is shared.

Scripture says we are made in the image of God. This means two things, and both are equally correct. One, we are created as a copy—a person imprinted or made from an impression from a master image, the master image of who/what God is. (Note, this does not mean we are gods. We have attributes like God, beings with a will and an intellect.) Two, we are an image as in a reflection—we reflect the image of God to others. This synchronizes with what St. Teresa of Avila said about prayer as us looking at God looking at us. Another metaphor is that God throws us a ball called Love—are we going to keep it or are we going to throw it back to God through the next person?

Gravitate to humility.
This signpost points to the First Beatitude, blessed are the poor in spirit. Scripture and all of the saints and mystics call us to humility. Not humility as the world defines it, that is, as a sense of proper self-esteem where one does not elevate or demean ones self in relation to others. This is important, but Christian humility aims for the complete and total nothingness of pride. We have nothing to boast of to God. We have no entitlements or any thing to lay claim on God. We are nothing without God. All we can really ask for is mercy. (See the story of the Canaanite women begging Jesus to heal her daughter.) The verb “gravitate” implies that we should keep moving toward humility.

Pray always.
This signpost comes from Scripture. It is a reminder to be aware of God’s presence, our be-withness with God, throughout our whole day, every day.

All is gift.
This signpost points to the attitude of gratitude. Many people say “everything is gift,” but the word “all” is more encompassing. “All” includes all—every thing, every person, every breath, molecule, and energy of your very existence, every opportunity to choose to love and to give. The words from Scripture, “In Him we live and move and have our being” are not only poetic, but are actual physical reality. This signpost also points to humility. (See the post “Certainty” for more.)

Keep hope alive  ·  Dare to trust  ·  Surrender to grace
• • • Reflect love. • • •
Gravitate to humility  ·  Pray always  ·  All is gift