At the start of September,/ we pray for those who celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance./ And for ourselves to grow in the love of God and neighbor./ We pray to the Lord.
For Pope Francis,/ who seeks to lead us to a new Gospel-depth./ For those who do not respect him out of fear./ For bishops,/ priests and deacons,/ and all who minister within the life of the Church./ We pray to the Lord.
We ask for our families and friends to have hearts freed of anything that would keep them from experiencing the love of God./ For their healing and well being./ We pray to the Lord.
This Labor Day weekend we ask a blessing for ourselves in our work./ For those whose work benefits us in any way./ For persons who work in dangerous or unhealthy places,/ who are paid unjustly,/ who are out of work or who are enslaved./ We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the conversion of presidents,/ prime ministers,/ and premiers./ May they eschew anything that keeps them from the compassionate service of their people:/ lies,/ narcissism,/ power lust or greed./ We pray to the Lord.
The planet God has entrusted to our care,/ is burning and melting simultaneously./ We pray for those who simply don't care,/ who boldly deny the disastrous changes,/ or who are failing to lead./ We pray to the Lord.
Standing here at the edge of Hempstead Harbor, I turned around from my water view and saw the top of Saint Mary's Church (where I was covering for the pastor for three weeks) sticking up and out of the trees. I wasn't looking for this view. That's serendipity!
This curious word, sort of invented in 1754, comes from the fairy tale of the Three Persian Princes of Serendip who continually made unexpected discoveries as they traveled along. Serendipity is a happy surprise, accidental or unexpected discovery. Serendipity can occur when stepping into the new day, when hearing a voice on the other end of a telephone, when visiting with a friend or relative, when making a purchase or going on a trip. Or, as in this case quite literally, when simply turning around.
But while I experienced the happy surprise of seeing the top of the church tower beyond the woods, there was also the lovely surprise of discovering this great heaping up of horizontal lines. Look! The water's edge is horizontal. Then there is the dark horizontal water mark on the grasses nearest the shore. The light green grass then cuts across horizontally. Then there is the darker, olive green grass, followed by the first rank of horizontal trees. There is a little space between another horizontal row of more trees. The tower-top is horizontal, as are the vents under the roof. Finally, there are the darkest green trees which seem to explode, like clouds of green volcanic eruption. I think that's eight stacked rows of horizontal lines calling us upwards.
I want my own life to be in an upward movement - from what's base and un-divinized to a fullness of light. These are dark times. Can you honestly name how your own life (inside or out) has been, or is being impacted? Not a few people are feeling un-sure, insecure, un-nerved, afraid, trapped, depressed. The planet is burning and melting, the radio talk show guy says people from Central America are diluting the white race, the veneration of guns is at a fever pitch. Something new is needed. I'll check in with this rank-on-green-rank photograph often over the next weeks - allowing it to invite me upwards, to restoration and hope.
17 One day while Jesus was teaching, some Pharisees and experts in the Law were sitting near him. They had come out of every village in Galilee and Judaea as well as from Jerusalem. 18 The Lord's power to heal people was with him. Soon some men arrived carrying a paralytic on a small bed and they kept trying to carry him in to put him down in front of Jesus. 19 When they failed to find a way of getting him in because of the dense crowed, they went up on to the top of the house and let him down, bed and all, through the tiles, into the middle of the crowd in front of Jesus. 20 When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the man, "My friend, your sins are forgiven."
21 The scribes and the Pharisees began to argue about this, saying, "Who is his man who talks blasphemy? Who can forgive sins? Only God can do that." 22 Jesus realized what was going on in their minds and spoke straight to them. "Why must you argue like this in your minds? 23 Which do you suppose is easier to say, 'Your sins are forgiven' or to say, 'Get up and walk'? 24 But to make you realize that the Son of Man has full authority on earth to forgive sins - I tell you," he said to the man who was paralyzed, "Get up, pick up your bed and go home!"
25 Instantly the man sprang to his feet before their eyes, picked up the bedding on which he used to lie, and went off home, praising God. 26 Sheer amazement gripped every man present, and they praised God and said in awed voices, "We have seen incredible things today." (Luke 5:17-26)
This sensitive painting was created by the young American artist, J. Kirk Richards. We might imagine we are sitting in the circular room, or looking in through a large window similar to the one on the opposite side. That's precisely what classic Christian meditation does - I enter and take up my place in the Gospel scene. Verse 17: These religious "experts" have been sent from headquarters. They do not love Jesus; they do not want his friendship. They are suspicious men, looking to catch Jesus either breaking a law or teaching unapproved theologies. Verse 18: "The Lord's power to heal people was with him (Jesus). Maybe the first ones who need to be healed are these religious guys. We can lose sight of this, thinking that it's always the "others" who need the healing. And what wonderful friends this paralyzed man had. They are un-named; we don't know who they were. They understand an essential thing: we live to help and comfort others. Verse 19: What determination - ripping open the tile roof through which they lowered their friend down before Jesus. A missionary priest was driving his jeep up into the mountains of Central America to celebrate the First Communion Day Mass for a group of seven year olds in a far flung community. But the river was so swollen and fast moving, the priest was unable to drive across where he was to meet the children and their families. So the dads made a human chain across the furious river and passed the little ones up in the air, one dad to the other, until everyone was safely delivered to the other side, where the priest offered the First Communion Mass. What determination - to get children to the Mass for this encounter with Christ. Verse 20: This is interesting: Jesus gave the paralyzed man the gift of forgiveness based on the faith of the friends who carried him. That's not what he wanted, but Jesus knew better. The man's real need or problem was an interior one. But he was unable to walk! What kind of sins could he have possibly committed? We don't know. All we can do is come to know ourselvesbetter. Verse 21: The Pharisees and "experts" get sniffy that Jesus has forgiven sins. Unattractive, isn't it? Verse 22: I love this line: "Jesus knew what was going on in their minds." The Pharisees are not not happy. Pity the person who doesn't find joy in his or her religion. Jesus doesn't give them a pass, but calls them out on it - so much fussing about things that are not essential. Verses 23, 24: Jesus performs the outer wonder to draw attention to the real and deeper wonder, which is interior. Wonder! Have we lost it: wonder before God, about the gift of life, about beauty, about the treasure which is the planet-gift we've been given? Verses 25,26: The paralyzed man has received a double gift: forgiveness and new legs. Healed inside-out, he goes off free, as if dancing. The crowd echoes the joy - everyone is filled with awe and gratitude. This is the spiritual life: wide-awake awe, wonder, praises, thanks - at least an interior dance before the incredible delights and gifts of God. Wonder, thanks and praise: It is nearly 7:00 P.M. in the middle of August. The sun is lowering just a bit. I can see the harbor through the trees, which are moving after the big rain. The water is reflecting light, like diamonds.
In these days of national fragmentation and even violence,/ may we hear Jesus' Gospel Word which proclaims/ that no one is to be excluded;/ no one has exclusive rights to the good things God offers./ We pray to the Lord. Thursday is the feast of the Passion of St. John the Baptist,/ the relative and friend of Jesus./ We pray for our own friends and their well being./ For anyone who is without a friend./ We pray to the Lord.
Human beings can be in denial about their addictions,/ imminent dangers,/ sickness and disease,/ relationship problems and the warnings of science./ We pray to be teachable persons,/ especially docile before Christ,/ who opens hearts and minds./ We pray to the Lord. We join Pope Francis in his solidarity with the people of southern India,/ where monsoons have claimed the lives of hundreds of people,/ and displaced many more thousands./ We pray for the world where there is great suffering./ We pray to the Lord. We pray for the President of the United States,/ our Congress and those who are presenting themselves for public office./ May we have world leaders who are simply good people:/ humble,/ open,/ truthful,/ generous and kind./ We pray to the Lord. We ask healing gifts for the sick,/ the wounded and the injured./ For mourners/ and those who are mentally or spiritually unwell./ For prisoners and those who work in law enforcement./ For the people who are fleeing for their lives./ We pray to the Lord.
Here's a room that's used Fra Angelico's painting of All Saints as wall paper - one hundred and thirty nine British Pounds per square metre. We can imagine the saints would have been glad for that money to have been used to feed hungry children, but to each his own. Maybe our use of the prayer here (A Prayer to All the Saints of the Year) can help a bit to reclaim them from a pretty frivilous exploitation. The saints of January, I love them; I pray to them. May they erase my slate, help me to start again - to grow in awareness and gratitude. The saints of February, I love them; I honor them. Holy ones, in the shivering time; warm and melt, soften and expand us. The saints of March, I love them; I bow to them. May I drew near to Christ with them, pleasing him by my clean heart - merciful and compassionate. The saints of April, I love them; I invite them. By their prayer may we sprout faith, hope and love, keep a light heart in the enjoyment of God. The saints of May, I love them, I believe in them, especially Mary, whose month it is, and all who love her in simplicity. The saints of June, I love them; I worship with them. Hoping as the light increases and the days lengthen, I would draw near to Christ who is light. The saints of July, I love them; I thank them. May my life not dry out, but flow with a fresh capacity to comfort others. The saints of August, I love them; I'm made glad by them. Not to run from sacrifices and inconvenience. For the flowering of God's design for me; God's purposes and proposals. The saints of September, I love them; I trust them. How admirable their generosity. May I stay standing - unafraid, grateful, wondering of God's mercies. The saints of October, I love them; I love God with them. Like the seasons changing, my evolution into the mind of Christ - my own life, lived in authenticity. The saints of November, I love them; I greet them. Like clean water, fresh air, color and light, they encourage and surprise me. The saints of December, I love them; I enjoy them, kneeling at the straw-bed of Bethlehem, hoping to be counted among them. Pray real love is found in my heart. Father Stephen Morris
Jesus, we have been friends for a very long time, but is there real love in my heart? A splendid silver riza covers your icon, O Christ our God. Pray that I would be more than your admire-r. Your Gospel Book is opened to me, O Jesus. I ask for my heart to do the reading. O faultless one, keep me safe from my own worst inclinations. O strong arm of Christ, reel me in close to you. Before your gentle face, O Christ-God, I pray for those with tear-streaming eyes. You look to the margins, O Jesus, my Saviour. I pray for those who wish they'd never been born. By your soft smile, O Gentle Christ, tend to the egoists, the tormentors, the soul-less. Beauteous Christ, preserve wonder, imagination and awe within me. Your mind, O Jesus; divinize my own. Kind Jesus, erase the memories, may I begin again. By your blessing hand, O Christ, lead me into the new land of your teaching. Share your energy with me, O Saviour, quickening mercy, compassion and love.
These are difficult days. We live in a world where danger, vulnerability and uncertainty feel close. And here, the icon of the Murom-Ryazan Mother of God appears on your screen in the midst of the disappointment. I want to share my prayer with you, as she looks out at us in our felt need.
In Celtic-Christian spirituality, a caim is an imaginary circle which anyone in danger, distress, fear or discouragement can symbolically place around themselves. We can even carry the sense of the caim-circle with us as we walk and travel. The holy Lady protecting, The vigilant Mother watching, The awake Mary safeguarding, defending us, shielding us. The bright maphorion of Mary covering, The hands of Mary securing, The mind of the Mother standing guard over, saving us, preserving us. The blessing hand of Christ, bestowing, The scroll-held hand of Christ, evolving, The radiant robe of Christ, igniting, aiding us, looking after us. Amen!
We pray for Pope Francis as he will soon travel to a few African countries./ We ask gifts of safety and health along his way./ May his words and example be fruitful in building up the Christian communities of Africa./ We pray to the Lord.
We ask blessings for our country in its divisions and fragmentation./ For the president of the United States,/ our Congress/ and those who seek public office./ May the world's leaders be persons of wisdom and goodness./ We pray to the Lord.
May we not succumb to stereotyping,/ labeling and the defamation of others,/ especially within the life of the Church./ We ask for God to build us up in compassion,/ courtesy/ and love for one another./ We pray to the Lord.
We pray for our families and friends,/ mindful of any who are sick,/ stressed,/ sad,/ or in any kind of trouble./ We pray to the Lord. For the people of the world who are exhausted and saddened by disaster,/ terror,/ war or poverty./ May no one feel alone in their suffering./ May the Christians of the world be generous in comforting others./ We pray to the Lord. We pray for those who do the good work of hospice care,/ and for those who are preparing for death./ We ask the grace of seeing Jesus' face/ for those who have died./ We pray to the Lord.
This is a tough psalm: living in the real world of politics, business, culture. What we might call the world of cut-throat competition. Nothing new - Pope Francis even speaks of ladder-climbing clerics. But the psalmist doesn't disappoint. As he does in every psalm of complaint, in the end he presents us with an alternative to the world of power-lust in which we live.
Verses 1-3: The word psalm means praises. But this psalmist can seem to be more often a complainer than a praise-r. He begins by asking for a rescue - not once but twice - emphasizing how stressed out he is. He's living in a world of evil people - blood-thirsty, he says.
Verses 4: The psalmist is quick to declare how innocent he is. He's feeling victimized. If this is a national psalm and not just the complaint of an individual, asking why we're hated might be in order. One Israeli news reporter says, "You Americans never ask why?"
Verse 5-6: Here, the psalmist is telling God to wake up. He feels that God is asleep on the job. Is he taunting God into action, flattering God with titles? He wants God on his side, maybe like the priests of some nations who bless bombs and rockets with holy water. Imagine that, the sacramental water through which we meet Jesus - used to bless bombs, tanks and submarines - instruments of death and wasting destruction. Verse 7: This fellow's troubles are unrelenting. Even into the night he's oppressed. He likens his foes to dogs. Like Jim Croce's "junk yard dogs." The ancient world didn't care much for dogs. We're better at that. Dogs are wonderful. If a dog is mean, it's more often than not, the fault of someone who's treated them badly. Verses 8-9: What's gabble-mouthed? Talking so fast you can't understand what the person is saying. Jabbering. Sounding like birds, noisy geese. Then the psalmist references mouths that are full of insults. Sounds like social media today. God laughs at us with all our big talk, posturing at lecterns, power displays, wordy advertising and nonsense. Verses 10-11: Here the psalmist softens his tone a bit. He calls God, Strength, Stronghold and Source of Love. Maybe he has some sense that while the nation is suffering all these attacks, if he lives an interior life, he will be immune. Verse 12: The psalmist tells God to kill the enemies. There are Christians with this kind of attitude: Let us be triumphant. Lay them low. Let us be done with them. Get rid of them for us.We can do without them. It's called otherism. Jesus forbids it. Verse 13: Here, he ticks off the sins of others. The sins of their mouths. But do we know our national history and our terrible treatment of native Americans and immigrants? Every new group that comes to this country is cursed at, lied about, thought of poorly, excluded. Dirty Irish, Greedy Jews, Lazy Blacks, Terrorist Muslims, Rapist Mexicans, Superstitious Catholics. No one escapes. It's national shadow. We could do with putting a national day of repentance on the liturgical calendar. There are people who would bitterly resent that. Remember sayings like these: "My country, right or wrong," or "If you don't like it here, go back where you came from." It's not Jesus' way. Verse 14: This fellow is out of control: "Destroy them Lord in your anger. Destroy them till they are no more." He calls God angry, but it's really him who's so angry. Maybe he's angry with God - expecting God to validate his own fury. He doesn't know himself well at all. Not a few people have no self knowledge. Verses 15-16: These lines are a repeat of verse 7. Maybe it is a copyist's mistake. Or sometimes when we're out of control we just keep repeating ourselves. Verse 17:But then, after his long, ugly rant, true to form, the psalmist wakes up to God's sustaining love. Indeed, the last word of the psalm is love. He proposes God's love as the only real power - not the power of his enemies and indeed, not the power of his own murderous anger. For the religious person, and perhaps especially for the Christian, love is the alternative. But how? Do everything you can to get Christ into your life; there is everything to take him away."
This fortieth year of ordination I've returned for two and a half weeks to my first parish, St. Mary in Roslyn Harbor, to cover for the pastor while he's away. Here's a Morning Prayer I wrote after my early A.M. walk from the church property, through the grounds of a tree-d senior complex and then along the shores of Hempstead Harbor.
Bless God for
pin oak,
sweetgum,
crape myrtle
and paper bark.
Bless God for
dragon fly,
fish squall,
Osprey return
and acorn-ed path.
Bless God for
wispy juniper,
bending cattail,
purple plumed grasses
and rose of sharon.
Bless God for
waterspouts,
sycamore,
ebbing tide
and mudflat scent.
Bless God for snowy egret, water wing-tap, mallard cluster and cormorant sunbath.
Early in August,/ we ask the blessings of good health,/ safety and peace,/ for all who celebrate birthdays,/ anniversaries and other days of remembrance./ We pray to the Lord.
For our President and Congress,/ may they be persons of wisdom and grace./ May they exercise their responsibilities well/ to serve all the people of the nation./ May they promote the freedom and dignity of each person./ We pray to the Lord. In last week's El Paso shooting,/ Andre and Jordan Anchondo were killed by gunfire/ while using their bodies to protect their two month old son, Paul./ We pray for the dead and the injured,/ for rescuers and law enforcement./ For all who are sorrowing./ We pray to the Lord. May we be freed of slander,/ blaming and stereotyping./ This week,/ in some fresh way,/ may we discover Jesus,/ and God's Kingdom-Rule,/ as the treasure of our lives./ We pray to the Lord. There is a great goodness to be discovered in our country,/ but also a dark under-world of hatred/ for those whose color,/ ethnicity,/ religion or orientation/ varies from the required standards of some./ May we come to see each person as God's child/ and thereby realize the nation's goal of a more perfect union./We pray to the Lord. We pray for our families,/ friends,/ co-workers/ and those around us at Mass today./ For the safety of travelers,/ for those who are away from loved ones./ For anyone who is out of work/ or who is over-worked./We pray to the Lord.
Sacred Heart ~ The Church of My Baptism ~ The Bronx, New York
The Church celebrates Jesus' Conception in March, Mary's Conception in December, St. John the Baptist's Conception in September. Do we ever thank God for our own conception - when God imagined us into existence? Which thought has led me to other gratitudes.
~ ~ ~
Bless you, O God, for the May night of my conception. Was that the night an angel was assigned to my care?
Bless you, O God, for the early Sunday morning of my birth. And mother said: "Stephen, you popped out into the arms of a nun in time for the first Mass." Bless you, O God, for my mother's decision to name me Stephen Peter. And when the Irish Matriarch, the Irish Aunt and the Irish cousin said, "Better Peter Stephen," the young mother leaned in and said, "Thank you all the same, but Stephen Peter will do just fine."
Bless you, O God, for the February afternoon of my Bronx Baptism. And my return to that font as a young priest to thank the good Jesus for our meeting in the water.
Bless you, O God, for the Spring Saturday of my First Communion. And the old pastor wore a chasuble lustered like pearl with a painting of the Virgin Mary on the back where the orphry-d crossbeams intersect.
Bless you, O God, for the Autumn night of my priesthood ordination. And the five Puerto Rican lunch ladies who ran the cafeteria in the school where I taught before seminary, took the Long Island Railroad out from Manhattan to pray with us that night. And Bless you, O God, for this moment graced, sitting in the car, waiting for a friend to come out from the doctor's office - for the summer trees swaying at the edge of the asphalt, for the sequence of green and red lights regulating traffic, for the high clouds gathering - dark and flat bottomed, for the road crew with their back-up-beeping truck.
I tried unsuccessfully to contact Terry Sohl, the nature photographer who took this photo of the dear mother American Goldfinch sitting on her well-hidden nest. More of his sensitive and life-appreciating pictures can be found online. I expect he'd be glad for our checking in on his website.
There is a smaller-than-a-sparrow female American Goldfinch sitting on her nest holding four light blue, lightly speckled eggs, way out back at the margin where the garden transitions to woodland. She built the well-engineered wonder-nest not in a tree, but among the long leaves of clustered red/yellow striped day lilies. I came across the nest early one morning when dead-heading (cutting off yesterday's spent flowers). She darted out from the concealing leaves in bouncy, undulating flight, like a threaded needle working a canvas.
Then it rained big heavy storms for a few days, and I worried that she and her unhatched family would be washed out. When, like Noah, departing the ark to assess the damage after the forty day deluge, I discovered her sitting there keeping the egg temperature just right, she looked up at me as if to say, "Oh, it's you again - everything's okay, go and have your tea and toast."
Then last night a nearby summer kids camp blew up thirty thousand dollars worth of fireworks, and the incessant bombing shook the house, and I grieved from my bed for the two-month-old spotted fawns and the birds, which I imagined falling dead out of the trees, and that surely the frenzied goldfinch mother would abandon her nest in the dark for grief and confusion. But at first light today she was there still, seemingly sane and intent on bringing her chicks to hatch. Bless God, seed eating late nester of grasses, spider web and bark strip. Bless God, day lily homesteader, back-dropped with woodland shadow, ferns, wild raspberry and weedy thicket. Bless God, egg minding mother, having changed into your summer dress of olive green and white flash, smartly accessorized, soft, yellow-washed face and throat. Bless God, heat wave beater, thunder storm navigator, fireworks survivor, enemy distractor... that I would lean into living too.
Today is the Feast of St. John Vianney,/ the patron saint of parish priests./ We pray for Pope Francis/ who is a parish priest for the world./ We ask healing for broken priests,/ renewal for burned out priests./ Strength and hope for sick or discouraged priests./ We pray to the Lord. Tuesday and Friday this week recall the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki,/ Japan/ killing many thousands/ and injuring untold numbers of people./ However we might feel justified,/ we ask forgiveness for the awfulness of war,/ and pray for this never to happen again./ We pray to the Lord.
God calls,/ a fool,/ the rich man with the bursting storage barns,/ who thinks of life as synonymous with possessions and material success./ We pray to be freed of greed,/ acquisitiveness and superficial living./ We pray to the Lord.
We pray for the President of the United States,/ our Congress,/ and those in leadership everywhere./ Healed of vanity and blame,/ may they seek the wisdom of God's way of loving service./ We pray to the Lord.
Three people were killed this week at a California summer fair./ The victims are six,/ thirteen and twenty-five years old./ Twelve people were injured./ It is the 248th mass shooting in our nation this year./ May God forgive our country's gun lust,/ and cover our shame before the world./ We pray to the Lord.
For our families and friends,/ the sick,/ the fragile,/ the ones working two or three jobs,/ the ones who are struggling to hold on,/ the ones whose relationships are strained or fractured,/ for those who are inwardly imprisoned in bitterness./ We pray to the Lord.
