CATHOLICWEBPHILOSOPHER: "Offer to God only what is worth offering." - St. John Vianney (Reflections on the Gospel of Saturday after Ash Wednesday, Luke 5:27-32)

Saturday, March 4, 2017

"Offer to God only what is worth offering." - St. John Vianney (Reflections on the Gospel of Saturday after Ash Wednesday, Luke 5:27-32)

esus calls Matthew to follow him, and what's the first thing Matthew does? He gives a great banquet, not only for Jesus, but for his friends, so that they too, sinners and outcasts like himself, might come to know Jesus and experience his mercy and forgiveness. He knew that great blessings aren't meant to be hoarded but generously shared.

Allow me to share with you a very brief reflection from one of the letters my spiritual director - God rest his soul - wrote me many years ago. In it he says:

"Remember that your vocation, your choosing to follow Christ by entering seminary, isn't your own. You are here, not so that you can become holy, pious, devout, intimate with Jesus, or so that you may enjoy the fruits of a life lived in fidelity to the demands of this state of life.

Your vocation belongs, first and foremost, to the Church in whose care you have now placed your entire life. It belongs to the Church, because the Church is the People of God, the people of your diocese by whose generosity and kindness, your life in seminary is supported, the people who, by their prayers, support you every minute of your day, without you even realizing it, the same people whom you are meant one day to serve as a priest, with your whole heart, mind, body and soul.

It is to them that your calling to the priesthood ultimately belongs. Remember, it isn't your own. God gave it to you freely; you must give it back in service to his people, freely."

How generous have we truly been in giving of ourselves to the demands, both big and small, of our life in formation? "Offer only to God what is worth offering", says St. John Vianney. Do we recognize that everything we do, from the most noticeable to the seemingly insignificant, is meant to be an offering of ourselves, in generosity to God and His people, for the many blessings we've received from and through them?

How many of your peers in college, have everything they need, from spiritual to physical nourishment, readily available at literally every hour of the day? Do we think about the comfort and ease our life in seminary affords us? Do we keep in mind that the only return the Church asks of us is to generously give of ourselves to our formation?

Matthew received a great blessing in the person of Jesus, and the only thing he could think of was to generously share it with others. We who wish to be like him and follow Jesus' invitation, must do the same.

Thoughts in Solitude (Thomas Merton)

My Lord God,
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
And the fact that I think
that I am following your will
Does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire
in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything
apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this you will lead me
By the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
And in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
And you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Amen.

The Priest: A Prayer on a Sunday Night (Abbe Michel Quoist)

Tonight, Lord, I am alone.
Little by little the sounds
died down in the church.
The people went away,
And I came home,
Alone.

I passed people who were
returning from a walk.
I went by the cinema
that was disgorging its crowd.
I skirted café terraces where tired strollers
were trying to prolong t
he pleasure of a Sunday holiday.
I bumped into youngsters
playing on the footpath,
Youngsters, Lord,
Other people’s youngsters
who will never be my own.

Here I am, Lord,
Alone.
The silence troubles me,
The solitude oppresses me.

Lord, I’m 35 years old,
A body made like others,
ready for work,
A heart meant for love,
But I’ve given you all.
It’s true of course, that you needed it.
I’ve given you all, but it is hard, Lord.
It’s hard to give one’s body;
it would like to give itself to others.
It’s hard to love everyone and to claim no one.
It’s hard to shake a hand
and not want to keep it.
It’s hard to inspire affection,
only to give it to you.
It’s hard to be nothing to oneself
in order to be everything to others.
It’s hard to be like others, among others,
and be an other to them.
It’s hard always to give
without trying to receive.
It’s hard to seek out others
and to be oneself unsought.
It’s hard to be told secrets,
and never be able to share them.
It’s hard to carry others
and never, even for a moment, be carried.
It’s hard to sustain the feeble
and never be able to lean on one
who is strong.

It’s hard to be alone,
Alone before everyone,
Alone before the world,
Alone before suffering,
death,
sin.

Son, you are not alone,
I am with you.
I am you.
For I needed another human vehicle
to continue my Incarnation
and my Redemption.
Out of all eternity, I chose you.
I need you.

I need your hands to continue to bless,
I need your lips to continue to speak,
I need your body to continue to suffer,
I need your heart to continue to love,
I need you to continue to save,
Stay with me.

Here I am Lord,
Here is my body,
my heart,
my soul,
Grant that I may be
big enough to reach the world,
Strong enough to carry it.
Pure enough to embrace it
without wanting to keep it.

Grant that I may be a meeting-place,
but a temporary one,
A road that does not end in itself,
because everything to be gathered there,
everything human, must be led to you.

Lord, tonight, while all is still
and I feel sharply the sting of solitude,
While people devour my soul
and I feel incapable of satisfying their hunger,
While the world presses on my shoulders
with all its weight
of misery and sin,
I repeat to you my “yes”
—not in a burst of laughter, but slowly,
clearly, humbly.

Alone, Lord,
before you,
In the peace of the evening.

Lord, help me to keep my promises

Loving Father,
you have placed in my heart
a deep and unquenchable
yearning and thirst
to know you intimately,
and to follow in the footsteps
of Jesus your Son.

Send me the light of your grace,
the fire of your Spirit,
that he may pry open my heart,
and in it set a fire
that will forever burn
for love of you,
for love of your people,
for love of your Church.

Grant me openness of mind and spirit
that I may always listen attentively
and welcome generously
your subtle and gentle promptings
as I reflect, meditate,
and grow in love daily
for the most precious gift
you have given me:
the call to a life that is full,
a life that is whole,
a life that is complete,
a life that is holy.

And if it be your will
that I live this life
in the priesthood of Jesus your Son,
grant too that I may, with your grace,
remain faithful to it,
to its joys and sufferings,
to its challenges and triumphs,
to its gifts and demands,
to the end of my life.

Help me to keep the promises I’ve made
just as you have promised
to remain with me always
to strengthen and guide me,
to heal and protect me,
to comfort and admonish me,
till I see you face to face.

This I ask in your Son’s name,
He who is my Lord,
my Savior,
my model, pattern and guide,
now and forever.

Amen.

De Profundis

Out of the depths I cry to you,
do not abandon me, O Christ,
in my deepest and darkest hour of need.

Give me again the courage and joy
of knowing your aid.
Strengthen my weary soul,
and steel my feeble frame.
Restore me to your friendship and use me,
unworthy instrument that I am.

I abandon myself to your great mercy.
Ever more conscious of my unworthiness,
I beg you, O Lord of life,
Christ, in your great compassion,
show mercy to one who calls upon you
with his whole heart, mind, body, and soul.

Take me unto yourself, O Christ.
Hide me once more
in the shadow of your wings,
take my hand, guide and lead me.
Be my father, my brother, my friend,
my light, my life, my all.

Be the air that I breathe,
be the ground beneath my feet,
be the one whose name I utter
when I first awake,
be the one who stands by me
at night as I sleep,
be the hours that govern my day,
be the thoughts that fill my mind,
be the emotions that move my heart,
be the passions that set me on fire,
be at every step my feet take,
be every action my hands make,
be every word I speak,
be every sound I hear,
be every sight I see,
O Christ be always with me.

Come into my life and save me,
heal me of my wounds
and redeem my unworthiness.
Be my worth, my joy,
my triumph, my all.

Christ, be my life. Let me be reborn
into your life and your love.
Guide my life, and claim me as your own.
Take me into your heart,
and let my life be lived for you alone.

Out of the depths, I cry to you,
O Christ, Lord of life,
claim me as your own,
and never let go.

Amen.

Preaching

A priest is a messenger of the Gospel, the bearer of God’s Word, a proclaimer of the ‘magnalia Dei’, the great and wonderful things that God has done, to himself, to those whose lives he has touched and who have touched his life, and finally to the world at large in which a priest acts as a kind of ‘mystagogue’, a ‘diviner’ or ‘discoverer’ of God’s deeds. In that way, a priest’s very life is entwined with his preaching, and his preaching is intimately bound with the life of those to whom he ministers. Life and preaching form a seamless garment, woven together by the Spirit of God which connects and animates both. Put simply, a priest must proclaim the Good News, and his life is the single greatest medium of such proclamation. But it is also the greatest source, second to none, from which he must ‘mine’ God’s hidden deeds.

We ourselves are therefore our very first listeners. A good homily is one that a priest delivers to himself before anyone else. The preacher must preach to himself first. If he is stirred by what he says, if he is moved to his core, not just emotionally, but in a way that makes him act upon the intensity of his feeling by creating some change in his world—however small and insignificant it might be—then he will know that he is preaching well. He will know that his homily is ‘good’. He must be convinced of what he says. He must believe it with all his heart, live it with his whole life, and share his conviction. Then he will set the hearts of his hearers ablaze—because the Spirit has set his heart on fire first.