This has hit home for me a few times in my life. A year after completing my graduate studies I found myself engaging in new types of prayer — particularly an increased use of the Rosary and a greater sense of efficacy in my silent prayer. At first I was uncertain why I was being drawn in this direction (beyond my generation’s general reappropriation of older faith practices). Eventually it dawned on me: while in college and graduate school I had used my studies as the foundation for my prayer life. Indeed, there is a long history in the Church of study as prayer (to such an extent that Dominican friars are excused from communal prayer if engaged in study). Following my master’s degree and subsequent exit from higher education, my prayer life dried up for about a year as I “re-learned” how to pray. Since I was no longer spending significant time immersed in the study of scripture, Church history, morality, and the like, my normal avenue for prayer had been cut off.

While this was undoubtedly painful, it also proved to be a great blessing as it opened me to new ways of prayer that I did not have the time or energy to devote to before.

Lately, after nearly a decade of fits and starts, I’ve gotten into a general rhythm of using the Liturgy of the Hours. I’m not as consistent as I would like, but most morning and many evenings I take 10-15 minutes to pray Lauds and Vespers. I’ve not yet gotten into the habit of adding Compline, but I am working towards it.

Nevertheless, and in spite of the inconsistent nature of its application, the effect has been profound: I’ve notice a real change in my temperament and attitude when I begin the day with Morning Prayer, and a stronger resistance to temptation when I’m consistent for several days in a row. In particular I find myself dealing with my children in a more patient manner — something, my wife likes to remind me, that I need to work on.

As before, I’m not sure why it is that, at this particular moment in my life, this type of prayer has suddenly “clicked.” But unlike before I haven’t lost the types of prayer that I relied on previously. I still pray the Rosary and still find comfort in silent prayer. What I am experiencing now is a wider embrace of prayer types, not a replacing of the old.

The Second Vatican Council teaches that “the laity, too, are encouraged to recite the divine office,” for “all who render this service are not only fulfilling a duty of the Church, but also are sharing in the greatest honor of Christ’s spouse, for by offering these praises to God they are standing before God’s throne in the name of the Church their Mother.” (Sacrosanctum concilium, n. 100, 85) I am still discovering just what this mean, but I am thankful that, at this time in my life, the Liturgy of the Hours has been such a source of strength and a means of increasing virtue in my life. I pray, too, that it will continue to do so as I continue to grow in love and knowledge of God.

I saw a man coming, as it were from Ireland. His name was Victoricus, and he carried many letters, and he gave me one of them. I read the heading: “The Voice of the Irish.” As I began the letter, I imagined in that moment that I heard the voice of those very people who were near the wood of Foclut, which is beside the western sea—and they cried out, as with one voice: “We appeal to you, holy servant boy, to come and walk among us.

Patrick, now a bishop, returned to Ireland where he baptized thousands, ordained native priests, and converted the sons of kings. He won over the people who had once enslaved him and is now the patron saint of the Emerald Isle.

Like the Irish of the 4th century, our diocese is waiting for a bishop who will “come and walk among us.” It has been extraordinarily heartening to see and hear of the many people around the diocese who are praying for our new bishop through intercessions, litanies and the Eucharist. Whoever he is, our new bishop has been cloaked in the prayers of the faithful and entrusted to the care of our Blessed Mother. And we pray that, like St. Patrick, he will teach us to walk in the joyful company of the Triune God.

Lord God,
you are our eternal shepherd and guide.
In your mercy grant your Church of Springfield in Illinois a shepherd
who will walk in your ways
and whose watchful care will bring us your blessing.

We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever.
Amen.

A couple weeks ago a small group of our diocesan directors met to begin envisioning what that catechetical process will look like. During the course of the conversation, one thing became clear: in order to prepare people to pray the new translation in a meaningful, intelligible way, we need to be able to articulate why the Church is changing the words of the Eucharistic liturgy in a way they can understand and accept.

In other words, we need to find the marketable message for the changes.

I won’t claim that we came up with all the answers, but I think one of the priests at the table got us started the right path. He noted that, during the liturgical reforms following the Second Vatican Council, the message was that the laity will no longer be passive observers but will be called to “full, active participation” in the liturgy. For forty years this has been the mantra of liturgical catechesis, for better or worse. It was, in a sense, the “marketable message” on liturgy following the council.

He contrasted this with the new missal and translation which have shifted attention from the action of the congregation back to the object of worship: Jesus Christ. Without diminishing the importance of the council’s reforms or denigrating the progress made in liturgical theology, the heightened language of the new translation pulls us out of the mundane and reminds us that while we participate in the liturgy, the liturgy is not about us.

With that in mind, a useful way to enter a wider conversation about the new missal — and a way to point towards a “marketable message” — may be to pose the following three questions:

1. Who calls us to participate in the liturgy?
2. Why do we participate in the liturgy?
3. How then do we participate in the liturgy?

This series of questions begins with the invitation to worship, points to the object of our worship, and then asks if the manner of our worships honors that end. I’m not completely satisfied with the wording (I’m open to suggestions!) and obviously not everyone will agree on the answers to these questions — especially the third! But they at least focus the conversation in a constructive manner that can lead to further exploration about our theology of liturgy, why we have a shared liturgical practice in the Church, and why the changes make sense within that context.

And without resorting to, “Because the Vatican says so!”

This morning, across the nation, many people will be setting out for Washington, D.C., to participate in Thursday’s March for Life. Please keep these pilgrims in your prayers:

Our Lady of Guadalupe,
we turn to you who are the protectress of unborn children
and ask that you intercede for us,
so that we may more firmly resolve to join you in protecting all human life.

Let our prayers be united to your perpetual motherly intercession
on behalf of those whose lives are threatened,
be they in the womb of their mother, on the bed of infirmity, or in the latter years of their life.

May our prayers also be coupled with peaceful action
which witnesses to the goodness and dignity of all human life,
so that our firmness of purpose may give courage to those who are fearful
and bring light to those who are blinded by sin.

Encourage those who will be involved in the March for Life;
help them to walk closely with God and to give voice to the cry of the oppressed,
in order to remind out nation of its commitment
to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all people.

O Virgin Mother of God, present our petitions to your Son and ask Him to bless us with abundant life.

Amen.

Indeed we cannot have Jesus without Mary.

- Rev. F.H. Drinkwater, Catechism Stories Part I: the Creed (1939)

The theme of Sr. Renita’s reflections was “pregnancy” and its relationship to the mystery of the Incarnation. Mary, in becoming the mother of the savior, bore him in the womb and gave birth to the physical form of God on earth (which is why she is honored with the title Theotokos, or “God-bearer”). In doing so, “God became Man,” lived on Earth, suffered, died and was buried. After three days he rose and his earthly body was taken into heaven.

But we would be mistaken if we assumed that this great mystery was confined to the 33 years of Jesus’ life on Earth, ending with the Ascension. The Incarnation is an ongoing mystery, one we encounter in the Eucharist, the Church (which is, after all, the Body of Christ) and in our own lives. Sr. Renita’s question to us was simple: how are we being called to make Christ incarnate in the world today, in our lives?

You would think that, for someone working for the Church, this wouldn’t be such a hard assignment. But the truth is that I felt uneasy about any answers that came to my head. I decided that I needed to step back and ask a more basic question: what do I need to do to prepare myself for the task at hand? This brought me to Mary’s example; the brunt of my reflection for the day centered on Mary’s answer to the angel Gabriel: “May it be done to me according to your word.” (Lk 1:38)

To receive the Savior, Mary prepared herself through humility and submission to the will of God. In giving her scent she made herself smaller so that Jesus could entered into her (both physically and spiritually); that is, she made room for the Christ in her life by seeking nothing but to do the will of the Father. Through her humility she was made worthy to receive the greatest of blessings.

My goal for the rest of Advent (and beyond) is to seek humility through prayer — to ask God to renew my heart and bring it more into conformity with his will. Today, the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, seems an especially poignant time to ask for humility through the intercession of the Mother of God and for the blessings of the Incarnation to be made more present in our lives.

Virgin of Guadalupe, pray for us!

Through the Novena prayers and accompanying scripture readings, Catholics will be able to prayerfully reflect on the Church’s teachings on life issues, reconciliation, social justice and the dignity of the human person.

The Novena, which is based on the USCCB’s document Forming Consciences for Faithful Citizenship, is available in both print and mp3 formats and can be downloaded at www.faithfulcitizenship.org/resources/podcasts.