Something to say to God

“I like praying the Liturgy of the Hours,” says Leah Libresco

because, at a bare minimum, it gives me something to say to God.  Not just the words of the prayers but, basically, “I’m really grateful for prayer traditions because I’d pretty much suck at having to make all this up on my own.”  Instead of just being grateful for language period, it’s kind of like being grateful for slang — the shared set of references that characterize a relationship or a community.

Jennifer Fulwiler addresses a related phenomenon when she speaks of praying the Liturgy of the Hours:  She realizes that, when the words don’t apply to her life, that’s a good thing, because she is praying as part of the Body of Christ.  She says,

I found myself saying “we” and “our” more often than “I” and “mine.”

We all need the discipline of praying about things that are not immediately relevant to our needs.  She says,

 It all finally clicked. For the first time, I think I really understood the power of the Liturgy of the Hours as the universal prayer of the Church …

As my heart swelled to think of the great drama playing out all over the world that morning of which I was only a small part, I thought back to my words at the beginning of the office — “But this Psalm doesn’t have anything to do with me!” — and realized that I had learned something critically important about prayer: It’s not all about me.”

This is not to say that we can never pray about things that do concern us.  But in my experience, the formal, selfless, ritualized prayer comes first, before there can be any depth of sincerity in individual prayer.

We can, for instance, try to flog our hearts into a sensation of awe during the consecration, but we probably won’t get anywhere.  But if we simply humbly accept what is being offered, and obediently participate in the ritual of thanksgiving, that is what lays the groundwork for heartfelt awe and wonder.

So both kinds of prayer are necessary for us and pleasing to God — both the formal, “ready-made” prayers that we participate in as an act of will, and the personal, immediate outpourings of our own soul.

Praying only in own language is limiting and inadequate — but so, I believe, is only ever praying in the formalized language of the Church, because it’s all too easy to keep it formulaic, and to forget that prayer is conversation, and conversation implies a relationship.

We ought to pray, at least some of the time, in our “native tongue.”  Leah has already discovered this:

When I think of immaterial things, I tend to think of Morality, which might not be that bad as a focus of prayer, even if I need to expand it out a little.  The trouble is I also think of Math, and since it’s much easier to think about clearly and distinctly, I was running into a problem.  I certainly wasn’t intending to pray to the Pythagorean theorem (which would make me a very strange sort of pagan), but I was drifting away from trying to talk to a Person and over to just thinking about immaterial ideas.

And kudos to her for noticing the problem!

So, basically, instead of fighting these thoughts, I kept thinking about whatever math concepts popped into my mind.  I thought about when I’d learned them, how exciting they were, and the way I got to share that joy with my friends.  Then I basically reminded myself, “God is Truth, so he totally shares your delight in these things.  In fact, he delights in your delight and would love to draw you further up and further in to contemplate and be changed by higher truths in math and in everything else.”

And that meant I was basically thinking about a person and a relationship again.  In my own weird little way.

Brilliant.  Leah is drawn to truth; it’s her native tongue. For others, it’s goodness; for me, it’s beauty.  Pythagoras doesn’t do much for me, but corn on the cob bubbling away in my blue enamel pot as the steam sifts through a shaft of evening light? This is something I invariably hold up to God, so we can delight in it together.

The saints all found different ways of praising God according to who they are, according to the native language He gave to them.  And so we have St. Francis in his tattered robe, and also Josemaria Escriva with his precisely groomed hair; King David with his wild dancing, and Mother Theresa washing wounds.  All of them related to God with some combination of formal language inherited from the Church, and spontaneous outpourings of their particular kinds of heart. These individual orientations are not something to struggle against; they are languages which God gives us so we can sing love songs to Him.

Do you speak to God in your native tongue?  Or do you hide your personality from Him?  Do you compartmentalize your spiritual life from your daily experience?  Or can you remember that everything that is good comes from God?

This is the main thing to remember when we pray, and when we live our daily lives:  “He the source, the Ending He.”  Both root of idea and flower of expression.  Here’s Hopkins:

the just man justices;
Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God’s eye what in God’s eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men’s faces.

This is how we become more like Christ:  by allowing God to refine who we already are. We become more like Him by speaking to Him in our native tongue. If, like Leah Libresco, we are looking for “something to say to God,” we could hardly do better than, “Here is what I am, Lord. Make me more like You.”

***

This post originally ran in a slightly different form in the National Catholic Register in 2012.

Image: The Astronomer by Johannes Vermeer [Public domain or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The Stupids Get On Board the Potty Train

Sorry for the bloggy silence lately! Lots of writing deadlines coming up (if you could spare a prayer I do a good job, I’d appreciate it very much!), plus birthday parties, doctor appointments, potty training, and July 4th (which we’re having at our house, and which is bringing out the Marney in me).

Maybe you’re wondering where I was on Monday, during my radio spot with Mark Shea. Well, I was lying down, because I forgot it was Monday. Sorry. It wasn’t because I didn’t feel like talking about gay marriage, honest! But I wasn’t heartbroken that I missed that opportunity, either. Anyway, you can hear podcasts of Mark’s shows here. He has four other co-hosts, and they’re so fancy, they know what day it is.

Speaking of radio, Jennifer Fulwiler was kind enough to invite me back on her Sirius XM radio show for a segment tomorrow (Thursday the 2nd) sometime around 2:15 eastern. (You can find podcasts of Jen’s show here, including the show where I explained how the Church is like a TARDIS.)

Oh, you want to hear more about potty training? Sure, fine. All you have to do is wait until your kid is 3-1/2 and hanging obscenely out of her size 6 diapers.

This is the advantage of having ten children. I don't even think, "This doesn't bother me, because I know I have good reasons for doing things the way I do them." I just think, "Yep, I'm a bad parent. Oh well. Hey, maybe she'll give me some of her candy!"

(Via Sanctimommy.)This is the advantage of having ten children. I don’t read things like this and think, “This doesn’t bother me, because I know I have good reasons for doing things the way I do them.” I just think, “Yep, I’m a bad parent. Oh well. Hey, maybe she’ll give me some of her candy!”

Then you spend six weeks loudly moaning and groaning about how disgusting diapers are. This does not require acting lessons.

Then you wait until your teenager daughter goes on summer vacation, wave $20 in front of her face, and arm her with a pack of My Little Pony panties, three pounds of assorted bribe candy, a new potty shaped like a pink ladybug, and a giant “surprise present” (fittingly, a water table) to be earned as a grand prize for when the kid not only uses the potty regularly, but stops bursting into tears when we insist that she dump it out herself. It took maybe a week, but miss soggy bottom is all potty trained now, and I didn’t have to clean up any puddles of anything. Ta dah!

The general rule for potty training is: you can potty train them when they’re ready, or you can potty train them until they’re ready, but either way, it won’t happen until they’re ready. (In our case, Benny was ready, but she didn’t know she was ready; hence the disparaging remarks and the candy.)

Well, bye! And remember, as a married woman you are now required to contribute on an adult level. And bring a serving spoon, not a soup spoon. A serving spoon!

 

On the radio with Jen Fulwiler today!

jennifer-fulwiler-bio-thumbnail

Around 1:20 eastern, I’ll be on the great Jennifer Fulwiler’s SiriusXM radio show.   With an eye to the approach of mother’s day, we’ll be talking about how important it is for all you ladies to follow one rigid, clearly-defined plan to achieve Perfect Catholic Motherhood. OR WILL WE?

Also, I keep meaning to remind you that I am on the radio every Monday from 5-6 PM eastern, with Mark Shea with his show, Connecting the Dots. All the shows are archived, and you can listen to podcasts here.

Hope you can tune in!

32 authors and one banana

. . . read excerpts from Jen Fulwiler’s new book. I fought through my horrible Skype connection and provided a few seconds (no, I am not the banana one):

You have to watch this, if only to see Dwija mostly unruffled by a wandering lion. And of course Bonnie just had to let it go.  I’m delighted to be in such august company, delighted to see that Hallie Lord’s husband Dan is secure enough in his masculinity to wear what is surely a vest conceived in Hell. Never mind a hate site, I have a new goal: I want to someday write something that will cause Patrick Madrid to rear back in his seat and feign disgust. Jen has arrived!

 

At the Register: Something Other than God: Jennifer Fulwiler’s New Memoir

. . . is great! Of course it is. But it’s even better than I expected.

Don’t you love the cover? It’s finally ready for just plain buying, rather than pre-ordering. And check out Jennifer’s site for the launch party including a HUGE contest with LOTS of excellent prizes. Dammit, it’s no fair that someone who write so well should also be such an excellent promoter! Well, I hear she has big feet, so there’s some comfort.

Jennifer Fulwiler interviews me from aboard her TARDIS

No paradoxes were created in the making of this interview, in which Jen Fulwiler of Conversion Diary speaks from the perspective of her past self.  She introduces the interview this way:

Seven years ago, I found myself in a place of great upheaval. I was in the middle of a profound religious conversion and found myself in a no-man’s land, adrift from my old belief system, yet not fully integrated into my new one.

Now this is the part that makes me blush:

Around that time that I came across a small blog by this woman named Simcha. She was a brilliant, hilarious writer on par with the famous names of the secular world…yet she was religious, describing herself as a Hebrew Catholic since she comes from a family of Jewish coverts to Catholicism. Reading her blog never failed to brighten my day (usually by making me laugh until I gasped for air), and her writing transformed my view of everything from motherhood to what it means to have faith.

About once a week I would think, “This woman’s blog needs to be much, much bigger!” and “When is she going to write a book?!” Seven years later, I got my wish.

Tons of frank, funny (and really difficult!) questions from the point of view of someone who can’t imagine why you would go to all the trouble of charting and abstaining, especially when you might end up having — ugh — babies anyway.  Check it out, if only to read the phrase “boinking machine” on a Catholic blog.