Three Days Grace: A Meditation On The Finding Of The Child Jesus In The Temple

 As anyone who undertakes the First Saturday devotion knows, Our Lady asks us to spend an additional fifteen minutes keeping her company while meditating (meditation being "prolonged reasoning with the understanding," according to St. Teresa) on the mysteries of the rosary. I have taken this to mean one can meditate on all five of the Joyful mysteries of that day, or focus on one in particular. I usually opt for the latter, and usually receive some insights by the Holy Spirit during that time that I may not have had otherwise. 

Yesterday (Saturday) I felt led to meditate on the fifth Joyful Mystery, the Finding of the Child Jesus in the Temple. I'm sure none of these insights are novel, as someone more learned than myself may have illuminated them already, but for me it was fruitful.

In Luke's gospel, we see the Holy Family returning home via caravan from Jerusalem after the Passover. They had already gone a day before they realized the twelve year old Jesus was not with them (Lk 2:44). Doubling back, they returned to Jerusalem where the scripture says they "found him after three days" (2:46). 

This in itself comprised the bulk of my meditation. As a parent of a soon-to-be twelve year old boy myself, I would be beside myself. Now twelve year old boys two thousand years ago were probably more self-sufficient than today, and parents probably didn't have as much of the helicopter-like and exhausting vigilance they do today, but I nevertheless tried to put myself in the mind of St. Joseph in particular. 

As protector and provider, what must have been going through his mind: He was the foster father of the Messiah--no pressure or anything! He was the strong, silent type, never saying a word in scripture. What was going through his head? It was probably hard enough feeling that Jesus was not related to him by blood, but adopted, per se. Yes, he was chosen by God to be the husband of the Mother of God, but he was also charged with this responsibility. Did Jesus (who was under his watch) disappearing undermine his own confidence in his ability to carry out this role? What if something happened to the boy? And who do you pray to when the son of God himself is missing? "Jesus, help me find...you?!" Poor St. Joseph!

And poor Mary. If St. Joseph was grieved, the twenty-six year old Mary, who bore the Savior and was closer to him than any person on earth, must have been even more troubled on a purely maternal level. But as my meditation went further into her heart, I witnessed what I felt was a precursor to twenty one years later, when she once again would be separated from her beloved son for an additional three days. Did she know he would rise from the dead, that this was not an end but a test of faith and patient endurance? What were those three days like--both when he was a boy separated from her, and then as a man separated from the land of the living?

As I kept our Lady company, I tried to console her with seemingly empty words I wasn't sure I believed myself "Don't worry my Lady, we'll find him" and "I'm sure he's okay." Like someone trying to comfort a grieving friend when you don't know what to possibly say. She took my hand in hers as if I was the one in need of faith and consoling, and squeezed it gently. I had a vision of Jesus, years later asleep in the stern on a pillow, quietly napping as his disciples thought they were perishing (Mk 4:38). He knew they would not meet their demise. 

But did Mary know Jesus would ever be found again? Was she walking in darkness, while the whereabout of her boy were unknown and also while he lay lifeless as a man in a tomb. When a woman is pregnant, she knows she cannot stay pregnant forever, that the baby will come and it is just a matter of days, weeks, or months. But for Mary in these instances, what if she wasn't sure he would ever be found, or live again? How great that darkness, that silence, that vast ocean black as night! But perhaps God is impregnating us with faith, hope, patience during this desolate incubation.

When we finally find the boy in the Temple sitting among the teachers of the Law, a wave of joy washes over me upon seeing my boy Lord. But also a rush of relief, that this Good Friday ordeal and unbearable tension is finally over. For the past three days, nothing has mattered except WE MUST FIND JESUS, the way nothing matters to a drowning man except air. I'm beside myself; what was lost is now found.

But when I look over at Our Lady, she has a kind of...tiredness. Not annoyance, but a kind of weighty perplexion. In fact, both her and St. Joseph were "astonished," as she says, "Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have searching for you in great anxiety" (Lk 2:48). (In the Douay-Rheims translation, they had been searching for the boy "sorrowing." In the RSV, the NASB, the NIV, it was "anxiously" or "in great anxiety")

Now I love St. Francis de Sales and his pragmatic wisdom. But there is one saying of his that I've always struggled with, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. It is this:

"Anxiety is the greatest evil that can befall a soul, except sin. God commands you to pray, but He forbids you to worry." 

As someone who suffers from anxiety clinically, this is a heavy admonition to shoulder. I mean, I don't like it myself, and yet I fall into the worry-trap during stressful situations in which my anxiety gets away from me. To be accused of sin on top of it is even worse. 

But what is often left out when this quote is taken at face-value is in the preceding verse in Introduction To The Devout Life, where St. Francis says this:

"If any one strives to be delivered from his troubles out of love of God, he will strive patiently, gently, humbly and calmly, looking for deliverance rather to God’s Goodness and Providence than to his own industry or efforts; but if self-love is the prevailing object he will grow hot and eager in seeking relief, as though all depended more upon himself than upon God. I do not say that the person thinks so, but he acts eagerly as though he did think it. Then if he does not find what he wants at once, he becomes exceedingly impatient and troubled, which does not mend matters, but on the contrary makes them worse, and so he gets into an unreasonable state of anxiety and distress, till he begins to fancy that there is no cure for his trouble. Thus you see how a disturbance, which was right at the outset, begets anxiety, and anxiety goes on into an excessive distress, which is exceedingly dangerous" (XI).

Does Mary seem like the self-love type? The fretful type? One who rests on her own power and might of will? Not to me she doesn't. And so, her anxiety at not knowing where her son was was experienced as any human mother would experience it, yet buoyed by her supreme trust and confidence in God, not the kind of needless worry or anxiety St. Francis de Sales talks about. Were she not to have responded in the way she did--as if she was a Buddha from another planet, or unconcerned, it would not only undermine her humanity but our confidence in her as well as one we can turn to when we face similar trials. In the same way Christ, because he himself has suffered when tempted is able to help those who are being tempted (Heb 2:18). 

No, the "anxiety" of Mary was not the needless or useless kind that we in our imperfections subject ourselves to when we fall short in trust, faith, and confidence. The Greek term ὀδυνώμενοι used in Luke 2:48 can also be translated as to grieve, to be in agony.  

This is not your run of the mill anxiety, but the anguish of a mother being separated from her beloved son. But what if it was to prepare her for what was to come years later, not a mistake of human negligence but as a component of divine formula? Just as when he was in the tomb, she suffered the grief and agony of his death--not because it should not have happened, but because as someone so closely united to him she was resigned to it and entered full into the grieving and agony of that desolation of separation. She knew she had found her son once, three days after being separated from him; perhaps after his death, then, she knew in the silent, grieving astonishment of her heart that she would see him again.  

"If The Romans Hadn't Crucified Jesus, Mary Would Have Done It Herself"

Have you ever heard that saying before? I hadn't until this past weekend. 

But even with my savage googling skills, I cannot find a source for it. I don't know where it came from. I don't know if it is even theologically accurate. But I can't get it out of my head.

What does it mean, "If the Romans hadn't crucified Jesus, Mary would have done it herself." 

To think of Mary as the Sorrowful Mother (Our Lady of Dolours) is to meditate on her privleged place in salvation history as the Mother of the Redeemer, but also the sword that piereced her heart not just once or twice, but continually.

When I was struggling with a vice, I went to a woman I considered to be a kind of prophetess in our church. She promised to pray for me, and emplored me to pray the Seven Sorrows devotion, including in it prayer to the Infant of Prague. This was on Tuesday, July 26th. On July 27th, I undid the shackles and walked out of the cell of my bondage which I had occupied for over twenty five years. Powerful.    

What are the Seven Sorrows of Mary?

1. The Prophecy of Simeon (Luke 2:34-35)

2. The Flight into Egypt (Matthew 2:13-21)

3. The Loss of Jesus for Three Days (Luke 2:41-50)

4. The Carrying of the Cross (John 19:17)

5. The Crucifixion of Jesus (John 19:18-30)

6. Jesus Taken Down from the Cross (John 19:39-40)

7. Jesus Laid in the Tomb (John 19:39-42)

Our Lady grants seven graces to the souls who honor her daily by meditating (i.e. mental prayer) on her seven sorrows. The Hail Mary is prayed seven times, once after each meditation.   

Mary had to endure the foreknowledge of her suffering imparted to her from Simeon; being forteen, pregnant and pursued by a murderer while an exile in a foreign land; losing her son (and maybe her mind) in a crowd for days on end; watching him agonizingly forced to carry (and being crushed by) the instrument of his own torture; his wrihing in agony and dying; holding his lifeless body in her arms; and burying the fruit of her womb. 

And yet, if the Romans hadn't crucified her son,

Mary would have done it herself.

If true, meditation on that kind of obedience is almost akin to the Incarnation itself, and we say with the Psalmist "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; It is too high, I cannot comprehend it." (Ps 139:6) As I was reflecting on it, were it to be true, it would not be without precedence.

In Genesis 22, God calls to Abraham, to which he replies, "Here I am!" (22:1). Like Abraham, Mary affirms her assent to the Incarnation, "Let it be done to me according to your word" (Lk 1:38). 

God says to Abraham, "because you have done this and have not withheld your son, your only son...through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.” (Gen 22:18). Mary, likewise, "henceforth all genearations will call me blessed" (Lk 1:48)

But as Abraham did not seek to withhold Isaac because he put the absolute will of God first--even when in this case it seemed to contradict reason and the moral law--Mary did not seek to shelter Jesus from the world through motherly protection. She offers him to the Father in the Temple, and in doing so, offers him up to the world to be used for God's purposes. She endured the suffering which accompanied that obedience to the divine will--that the lamb be immolated in perfect sacrifice--a suffering so potent that only a mother could know what it means.

 Think about that suffering for a moment--of having to give birth only to see your son die. And not pass away peacefully, but in agony, and not before a grueling course of tortue and humiliation. Not only that, his death which only you knew as his mother was for the sake of the very people who were scourging and mocking, spitting and flogging him, choosing a common guity criminal to be released over your innocent son. 

And yet, as if your sorrow and suffering had not been magnified enough, were the crowd to choose to release your son to his mother, you would demand the hammer, and nail him to the tree with the same hands you held his infant body with in the manger. The headlines appear the next day: Mother Takes Matters Into Her Own Hands, Crucifies Son. What kind of father pulls a knife on his own son in the name of religion? What kind of mother would put the salvation of ungrateful men ahead of her own flesh and blood? What kind of sadism is this?

In the Divine Economy, this did not come to pass. Mary's fiat was in bringing the Light of life into the world--it was not God's will that she also be the one to end it. Maybe it would have been too much. I don't know. Such knowledge is too much for me.

We were saved through Christ's death, but also Mary's "Yes." God did not ask her to extend that yes to do the shameful job of the Romans. But her favor with God was in her holy obedience. She did not scoff like Zechariah, never flinched, never hesitated, even when she did not understand the message of the angel Gabriel. She assented to not only the Incarnation, but all the suffering that came with it as a mother. She loved her son as her own flesh, and in loving her son she loved God. But she did not love her son more than his Father, to whom he (and her) were subject. 

God did not ask her to do the shameful job of the Romans--but if God had asked her to, I would have to believe she would have set the nails to the hands of her son herself, and in an unimaginable act of agony, brought down the hammer on them. Bone of my bone! Flesh of my flesh! An incomprehensible act of sacrifice, beyond what any mother not highly favored by God could humanely bear. All for the sake of lukewarm, ungrateful, spite-filled men, that they might be saved and reconciled to God by this shameful death. 

No wonder the devil fears her so much. For Lucifer fell from Heaven because of his disobedience. The Mother of God, co-mediatrix of all grace, makes getting back there possible by her obedience. The power of the obedience of Mary knows no bounds, and with that obedience comes the floodgate of grace. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, it is too high; I cannot comprehend it.

Fruits Of Grace: The First Friday and First Saturday Devotions

 Like many Americans, I carry insurance on a number of different things--some because I'm legally obligated to, and some because I choose to as a matter of risk mitigation. I carry liability insurance for our two cars. I have health and long-term disability insurance through work for myself and my family, and my wife and I both have modest life insurance policies. We carry home insurance on our residence, and I also have an umbrella policy to supplement that as well. 

Paying insurance premiums each month seems like a complete racket...until you actually need it. We haven't had to file too many claims, but when we have, the majority of loss was fortunately covered without too much outlay on our part. I consider the premiums a sunk cost, but ones that provide some peace of mind to deal with the uncertainties of life. 

When I first started doing the Nine First Friday and Five First Saturday devotions a few years ago, I viewed it as a kind of "spiritual insurance policy." Our Lord and Our Lady made promises to those who observe and propagate these devotions as follows:

12 Promises of the Sacred Heart to St. Margaret Mary (First Friday Devotion):

I will give them all the graces necessary for their state of life.

I will give peace in their families.

I will console them in all their troubles.

I will be their refuge in life and especially in death.

I will abundantly bless all their undertakings.

Sinners shall find in my Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy.

Tepid souls shall become fervent.

Fervent souls shall rise speedily to great perfection.

I will bless those places wherein the image of my Sacred Heart shall be exposed and venerated.

I will give to priests the power to touch the most hardened hearts.

Persons who propagate this devotion shall have their names eternally written in my Heart.

In the excess of the mercy of my heart, I promise you that my all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in my displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and my Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.

The Promise of Our Lady to Sr. Lucia at Fatima (First Saturday Devotion):

"Behold, my daughter, my Heart encircled with thorns, with which ungrateful men pierce It at every moment by their blasphemies and ingratitude. Give me consolation, you, at least; and make known on my behalf that I promise to assist at the hour of death, with the graces necessary for salvation, all who on the First Saturday of five consecutive months confess their sins, receive Holy Communion, recite five decades of the Rosary, and keep me company for fifteen minutes meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary, with the purpose of making reparation to my Immaculate Heart.”

For reference, the conditions for the First Friday devotion are as follows:

Receive Holy Communion on each of the First Fridays;

The nine first Fridays must be consecutive;

They must be made in honor of and in reparation to His Sacred Heart. 

The conditions for the (Five) First Saturday devotion are as follows:

Go to confession;

Receive Holy Communion;

Say five decades of the Rosary;

Keep Our Lady company for 15 minutes, meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary;

Have the intention of making reparation to Our Lady for the offenses listed above.

It can be challenging sometimes for busy families with lots of activities and things to complete the consecutive requirements for these devotions. But it is not onerous, if one prioritizes it. I will sometimes go to noon Mass on campus on Fridays if I can't make the 6pm Latin Mass and benediction at our parish. One time we were traveling all day for vacation on a First Friday and we found a parish offering Mass along our route. I usually go to the 9am Saturday morning, but in a pinch one could do an evening vigil Mass to satisfy the requirement as well. Confession can take place eight days before or after the First Saturday as well, so there is some flexibility as well. 

These are the logistical things with regard to these devotions. But what I really want to focus on here is something else entirely: that commitment to these devotions are rooted in the trust of the penitent in God, and that the fruits of the grace bestowed upon the penitent become truly apparent in this spirit of devotion.

Let's begin with the spirit of trust needed for this devotion. 

When someone promises something, we consider the trustworthiness of the person making the promise. If we encounter a car salesman who promises we will be satisfied with the purchase of a new car that he is selling, what exactly would we base that trust on? Why should we trust them?

In contrast, for a faith to grow, we must have trust in God and believe that He is worthy of trust. And he is. If we hold back on that trust, we become like St. James says, "a man of two minds, unstable in all his ways" (Ja 1:8). To completely abandon ourselves in trust to Christ--to leave our fathers and mothers, our plows, our homes to follow him--and his promises testifies to the degree of our faith in him. A child-like trust in God is pleasing to Him, a worthy oblation. And we must become, as Christ said, "like children" in order to have this trust. The trust of a child is one who rests without fear in his father's arms and falls asleep at once; who believes his father will follow through on what he says. In essence, that our Father is who Christ says he is.

As to the second part, this trust is related to a belief that if the Lord promises certain graces in this devotion, those graces will, in fact, be given to the devotee. The Lord does not give us a scorpion when we ask for an egg (Lk 11:12), and we judge a tree by its fruit (Mt 7:16). 

I can honestly say there were periods in my life in which I felt I would never be free of the shackles of certain sins. To remain in a state of grace for any period of time seemed like a fantasy, an elusive state reserved for saints and people unlike myself. And yet, in large part due to the graces obtained from this devotion, the Lord freed me from one after another habituation and defects that I never thought would have been possible given how mired I was in them. And not only myself, but the grace of peace and consolation in our family has been apparent as well. It's hard to explain or point to one thing or another because the transformation was subtle. But without doubt, we were the recipient of many graces as a family that set us on a firm foundation. I attribute much of this to the First Friday and First Saturday devotion.

There is something else as well--we do not have to fear death, because of these promises of our Lord and our Lady. I trust--as an act of faith--that they will make good on these promises, provided I do my part in this life in co-operation with grace, and that I will not be abandoned to the depths at my hour of death. This is a supreme consolation that also allows us to live life more fully--a life lived in fear is stunted; a life lived free of fear allows one to be bold, to witness, to step out and take chances for the Gospel. It alleviates the anxiety that the prospect of death fills people with, because we know and trust that death has been conquered by Christ. It holds no power over us. 

It should not be overlooked that Our Lord and Our Lady do expect something in return from us, and that is that we complete the devotion in a spirit of reparation for offenses against the Sacred Heart and Immaculate Heart, and in reparation for the ingratitude of men. When we keep Our Lady company, we do so in a spirit of consolation, sharing in her sorrow and providing our small mondicums of comfort to her who suffered so much. In doing so, our own hearts are transformed and more disposed to the fruits of grace promised to us in these devotions.

Our Lord and Our Lady make these promises not because they have to, or because they are compelled to, but because of the overwhelming outpouring of their love and mercy to bring sinners to repentence and their final resting place. One can only be moved to repentance by grace; and yet, repentance itself is a great grace because it reveals to us our natural state. When we believe we stand justified by our works, or by our standing in society, or because we are "good people," we stand deluded. We stand there under the weight of an overwhelming debt we cannot pay and with no recourse. But when we recognize our sinful state and inability to be saved apart from God, we see reality as it really is, and not through a glass darkly (1 Cor 13:12). This is the fruit of grace.

Does our salvation depend on adherence to such devotions, and that those who do not take part in them have no hope of being saved? Of course not. The Lord has mercy on those whom He chooses to (Rom 9:18). His mercy is not bound by the sacraments or by the limitations of time and space either. He is the Lord, and He is sovereign.

We serve a just God, but we also are subject to a merciful One that does not wish anyone to be damned, but to come to repentance and be saved. Because of this, he gives us tangible gifts and graces to assist us in this arduous task, for his yoke is easy and his burden light (Mt 11:28-30). "The Lord delayeth not his promise, as some imagine, but dealeth patiently for your sake, not willing that any should perish, but that all should return to penance" (2 Pt 3:9). He does not "set us up for failure," but asks that we trust Him to do for us the impossible--that is, that which is not possible for us on our own. 

If you have not done the First Friday and First Saturday devotions, think about it and give it a go. The Lord does not renege on His promises, and you will see the fruits of grace sprout on the vine in due time. He is faithful, worthy to be trusted, and desires that all--including you--be with Him forever in Heaven. He does not leave us orphans.

"I No Longer Fear God, But I Love Him": On Contrition of Charity

In the last post, we spoke about ejaculatory prayer, and how this method of "praying without ceasing" helps to keep the lifeline to God open with short, frequent fiery darts of love shot into the heart of God. It is neither too hard to do, nor too burdensome, nor too time consuming. It is both a grace and a habit of the will to pray in this way, for it disposes us to a habit of gratitude, love, hope, and trust.

"I no longer fear God," said the great Abba Anthony, "but I love Him." For perfect love casts out fear. “If a man loves God with all his heart, all his thoughts, all his will, and all his strength, he will gain the fear of God; the fear will produce tears, tears will produce strength; by the perfection of this the soul will bear all kinds of fruits.”

So then, without love for God, we cannot know the fear of God. And without the fear of God, we cannot love Him and be made perfect. Remember, "fear of the Lord" is a gift of the Holy Spirit, which brings to perfection the virtue of hope. 

During the month of November, I have been trying to stop by the cemetery every day to pray and gain indulgences for the souls in purgatory. Part of the conditions for this, of course, is to be "detached from all sin" which can be intimidating. I have to have confidence, however, that God would not place in us the desire to be made saints and not give us the means to attain this state, nor would he set the bar for gaining such graces (indulgences) so high that we would not be able to merit them. For we tend to fall back on scrupulosity when we do not trust. We tend to doubt when we lack in faith. We overcomplicate what should be simply in this faith. And we tend to fear when we do not love. 

So it is with contrition of charity, or perfect contrition. It is a great grace we should ask for frequently, and if we ask in love and trust, He will grant it to us.

And what is perfect contrition? Quite simply, it is the sorrow for sins that arises from pure love of God, rather than fear of punishment or damnation. Like detachment from sin, it is not easy, but it is attainable and within our reach by grace. The Sacrament of Confession is a great grace, but when it is not available in times of distress, the Lord does not abandon us on technicalities. As He granted paradise to the good thief Dismas, so too He fills us with true and honest sorrow so that we are truly forgiven and absolved even before making it to Confession when it becomes available. Of course, we must avail ourselves of the Sacrament as soon as possible. See here

No doubt, it is more difficult to make an act of Perfect Contrition than an Imperfect one, which suffices when we go to Confession. But still, there is no one who, if he sincerely wishes it, cannot, with the grace of God, make an act of Perfect Contrition. Sorrow is in the will, not in the senses or feelings. All that is needed is that we repent because we love God above everything else; that is all. True it is that Perfect Contrition has its degrees, but it is none the less perfect because it does not reach the intensity and sublimity of the sorrow of St. Peter, of St. Mary Magdalene, or of St. Aloysius. Such a degree is very desirable, but is by no means necessary. A lesser degree, but, provided it proceeds from the love of God, and not through fear of His punishments, is quite sufficient. And it is very consoling to remember that for the 4000 years before the coming of Christ the only means sinners had of obtaining pardon was this same Perfect Contrition. There was no Sacrament of Penance in those days. Even today for thousands-aye, for millions-of pagans, of non-Catholics, and of Catholics, too, who have no time to call a priest to their bedside, the only means of pardon and salvation is an act of Perfect Contrition.

But during dangerous periods of near-death, the temptation for the man who does not know the Lord intimately yet who fears death and Judgement is to not trust in God's great mercy out of love, but to revert to trepidation and rationalization. He may know he will face the Lord soon, but be unable to bring himself to contrition out of love. For how can you love what you do not know? Of course, God can grant these great graces to anyone he chooses; naturally speaking, however, it is similar to deathbed conversions for great sinners: not as common as one may think without great grace. We tend to die as we have lived, as St. Robert Bellarmine wrote. 

Now, if it is true that God does not wish the death of a sinner, it follows that He does not wish to impose on His creatures a contrition or sorrow beyond their powers, but one that is within the reach of everyone. And so, if millions of poor creatures who, through no fault of their own, live and die outside the True Fold, if these can obtain the grace of Perfect Contrition, do you imagine, dear reader, that it will be difficult for you-you who enjoy the happiness of being a Christian and a Catholic, and so are capable of receiving much greater graces than they-you who are far better instructed in things divine than the poor infidels are?

For one who has done his best to love God, to know Him, to trust Him, to serve Him, should he find himself in the occasion of death without a priest available, he should not fear or doubt. For this is how the Devil will work in these final moments to strip the penitent of his confidence with legalism: "With no priest present to absolve you, how do you expect to be saved? You are damned, you are mine." 

But I dare to go even further. Often, very often, without even thinking of it, you have Perfect Contrition for your sins. For example, when you hear Mass devoutly or make the Stations of the Cross properly; when you reflect before your crucifix or an image of the Sacred Heart. What is more, every time you say the 'Our Father,' in the first three petitions you make three acts of perfect charity, each of which is sufficient to cancel every sin from your soul.

I wrote about the benefit of aspirations yesterday, but see how they prepare us for this great act of faith in perfect contrition, the contrition of charity:

Very often, a few words suffice to express the most ardent love and the most profound sorrow -for instance, the little ejaculations, 'My Jesus, mercy,' 'My God and my All,' 'My God, I love Thee above all things,' 'My God, have mercy on me, a poor sinner.' Aided by the grace of God (and God has promised to give to all who ask), it is by no means difficult to make an Act of Contrition. Take the case of David, who for one curious look fell into the sin of adultery, and then of murder. Having committed these sins, he lived on quite unconcerned about the state of his soul till the prophet Nathan came to reprove him. And this reproach induced David to make an act of Perfect Contrition in a few words, 'Pec- cavi Domino' ('I have sinned against the Lord'). So efficacious was his contrition that the prophet, inspired by God, exclaimed, 'The Lord has forgiven you.'

The reason I do the First Fridays and First Saturday devotions is because I, like all fervent Catholics, recognize my weakness. I need the grace of final perseverance, and to receive the Sacraments in my final hours would be a great grace. So, I liken it to a spiritual insurance policy and last testament of will. Regardless, though, love in this life for--for one's spouse, family, friends, and enemies--is never wasted. And love for the Lord is not either. In it we prepare to meet him, and that He will not cast us out as one of those whom He knows not, but as friends welcomed to the banquet. When we forget, when we sin, we fly back to Him in sorrow, because we love Him and want to make amends by way of contrition and penance. For we know that perfect love casts out fear (1 Jn 4:18)

If we have seen the fruits of fear, we have seen it in the past couple years. It has lead to chemical dependencies and overdoes; suicides; anxiety and depression; tribalism which seeks comfort in the absence of control. It is not of God. Even for Catholics, we must learn that even though we know "No priests, no Church," we cannot rely on them for everything. Like God's love, the gift of faith, fear of God, wisdom, and forgiveness, everything is a gift and a grace. So, let us learn to love God more and more in this life--through frequent ejaculations, adoration, and begging for the grace of true sorrow, so that we made perfect by the contrition of charity. 

Life By A Thousand Aspirations

Years ago I read a small book, The Way of The Pilgrim, an Eastern spiritual classic in which a man wanders throughout Russia seeking the answer to the question of how one might "pray without ceasing" (1 Thes 5:17). In discovering the Jesus Prayer, he finds sweetness for his soul, and recites it day and night. On a plane ride to New Mexico when I was 19, I sat next to an Orthodox priest who gifted me with a prayer rope, and he taught me the prayer and the breathing to accompany it: "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, have mercy on me, a sinner." I have prayed it often over the years. Like the Pater Noster, it is a "complete protein" of a prayer, efficacious to contemplation.

When I write these days, I often have to do so in spits and spurts, fitting in posts and articles in between work and family responsibilities. I often do not spend more than an hour at most on any one piece. But when I look back at the volumes of what I have written and published, it's not insignificant. This should be a testament to the ability not to waste moments, and take to heart the words of St. Teresa of Calcutta, "we cannot all do great things. But we can do small things with great love."

We all have heard the expression, "death by a thousand cuts," by which it is meant that seemingly insignificant injurious effects can bring a man down over time. In the spiritual life, we know that venial sin--which is far from insignificant, but nonetheless is not death-dealing (1 Jn 5:17)--can coat the soul with soot over time and weaken the resolve against mortal sin. For this reason it is good that they be confessed in the Sacrament of Penance so that we never predispose ourselves to the sin that leads to death. 

If a thousand small cuts can rob a man of his breath, it should follow that the so-called ejaculations of praise, petition, adoration, and thanksgiving for a Christian can help lead a man to life. 

"The great work of our perfection," writes St. Francis de Sales, "is born, grows, and maintains its life by means of two small but precious exercises--aspirations and spiritual retirement." And the 16th century Abbott Bl Louis de Blois wrote, 

"The diligent darting forth of aspirations and prayers of ejaculation and fervent desires to God, joined with true mortification and self-denial, is the most certain as well as the shortest way by which a soul can easily and quickly come to perfection."

What do we mean by ejaculatory prayer? The Latin iaculum ('a dart') connotates arrows being shot from a bow. These are short, concise, uncomplicated prayers to aid us in times of temptation, offer God due praise, and lend themselves to petition. I have often relied on ejaculatory prayers as the brickwork in my spiritual life. Often, I get down on myself for not spending hours in contemplation and so accuse myself (sometimes in Confession) of "not praying." The fact is, though, that these seemingly insignificant prayers are uttered throughout the day on many occasions, such that the "left hand does not know what the right hand is doing" (Mt 6:3). Example of some of my favorite and more common aspirations include:

"Jesus! Mercy!"

"My Lord and my God!" (Jn 20:28)

"Come Lord Jesus." (Rev 22:20)

"I love you Jesus."

 "Lord, save me!" (Mt 14:30)

"God, be merciful to me a sinner" (Lk 18:13)

"Help me, Lord."

"I believe. Help my unbelief." (Mk 9:24)

These are just a few. They do not take much time at all, they come from the heart, and they can be prayed anywhere throughout the day to help us learn to "pray without ceasing" (1 Thes 5:17)

In my next post, I will be writing about Contrition of Charity, that is, making an act of perfect contrition and how efficacious this practice is. While it is the work of grace ultimately, we can dispose ourselves towards it through learning to love God more so that when we offend him, we are "cut to the heart" (Acts 2:37). We grieve because we have injured our Lord "whom we should love above all things," and not only because of the fear of Hell which we incur by our sins. I believe frequent ejaculations help build this simple love of God and trust in His infinite mercy, and that He will not spurn these fiery darts of love, the "arrows that wound God's heart," as St. Pio said. 

What You Live For: Drafting Your Death Wish

At First Friday Mass yesterday evening, our priest gave a brief homily on Servant of God Frank Parater, who was a seminarian from the Diocese of Richmond, Virginia. He died in Rome during his theological studies 100 years to the day, at the age of 22 from a rheumatic fever.

I have been doing the First Friday and First Saturday devotion--reparative devotions to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary, respectively--for the past six months. For those who are unfamiliar with it, Our Lord promises the following graces to those who receive Holy Communion on the first Friday of every month (for nine consecutive months) in honor and reparation to his Sacred Heart, as revealed to St. Margaret Mary Alacoque:

1. I will give them all the graces necessary for their state of life. 
2. I will give peace in their families. 
3. I will console them in all their troubles. 
4. I will be their refuge in life and especially in death. 
5. I will abundantly bless all their undertakings. 
6. Sinners shall find in my Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy. 
7. Tepid souls shall become fervent. 
8. Fervent souls shall rise speedily to great perfection. 
9. I will bless those places wherein the image of my Sacred Heart shall be exposed and venerated. 
10. I will give to priests the power to touch the most hardened hearts.
11. Persons who propagate this devotion shall have their names eternally written in my Heart.
12. In the excess of the mercy of my heart, I promise you that my all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in my displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and my Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.

Frank Parater, as a young man, composed the following letter prior to going to Rome, to be read in the event of his death should he pass, offering his life to the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the conversion of Virginia:

“I have nothing to leave or give but my life and this I have consecrated to the Sacred Heart to be used as He wills. I have offered my all for the conversion of non-Catholics in Virginia. This is what I live for and in case of death what I die for…Since my childhood, I have wanted to die for God and my neighbor. Shall I have this grace? I do not know, but if I go on living, I live for this same purpose; every action of my life here is offered to God for the spread and success of the Catholic Church in Virginia…I shall be of more service to my diocese in Heaven than I can ever be on earth.”

Though Parater was an excellent student and a model of charity, an Eagle Scout, and top in his class, but from outward appearance his was not a manifestly heroic virtue. I have always been attracted to those holy heroes and "big gun" saints--St. Augustine the major sinner turned saint; St. Francis Xavier; St. Anthony the Great; St. Teresa of Calcutta. But what I appreciated about Parater--who I had not known about prior to last night--was that he did not do anything outwardly extraordinary. His devotion to the Sacred Heart was fitting for a First Friday sermon. He recognized that his death was as if, if not more important than anything he could do in life. And he prepared for it, testified to in his writing. Not just for himself, but for the Church universal, as well as the Church local.

If you don't have a devotion to the Sacred Heart, maybe now is the time to start. Remember the graces promised to those who do. And if you don't have a death wish, maybe now is a good time to draft one. You never know when the Lord will take you, or how he will use, whether in this life or the next.

And I'm grateful to have found a new intercessor to petition a miracle from when I need it.