WHAT IS HAPPENING TO MY PRAYERS?

Sometimes I wish God cared as much as I do! I know this sounds blasphemous, but I must say it. God knows how many prayers I've offered for peace in troubled areas of the world, and for those who have had their lives washed away by exceptional floods. So frequently have I prayed the Litany of the Saints that the Lord would save His people in the Caribbean from lightening and tempest, from the scourge of earthquakes. I am also thinking of the many very sick people I have prayed for, with the longing that they would be restored to health.

I care! I pray! What has happened to my prayers? They don't seem to be producing results. Jesus said that the one who prayed with faith no greater than a tiny mustard seed would be able to move mountains, and by implication, anything else. Shifting mountains has no appeal to me.

No results, so I question my prayer-life and my own spiritual life. Does the answering of my prayers really depend on their frequency and intensity? If this were so it would be a terrible burden for me that the well-being of those I care about were to be impeded by my undoubted spiritual deficiency.

How can it be that I am unable to bring God round to my point of view? I must ask this seemingly absurd question, "Is the problem with me or with God?" Neither. My problem lies in my accepting that God is a mystery to us. God Himself recognizes this,

"'My thoughts are not your thoughts and your ways are not my ways,' declares Yahweh. 'For the heavens are as high above the earth as my ways are above yours, my thoughts above your thoughts,'"

(Isaiah 55. 9).

This means that the most difficult of prayers to say with sincerity is, "Thy will be done Lord. I want what you want -and only that. But how I wish you wanted what I want!" Isn't this very like the Gethsemane prayer,

"And going a little further He fell on His face and prayed, 'My Father,' He said, 'if it be possible, let this cup pass me by. Nevertheless, let it be as you, not I, would have it.'"

Here is Jesus, in the rawness of His humanity entering into the mystery of the divine will of His Heavenly Father.

The agenda of God is inscrutable to me -beyond my understanding. I must not, then, try to pressurise God. I must not strive to manipulate God into responding to my will. I'm convinced that God is sensitive, caring, loving to an infinite degree -far, far more than any of us could ever be. This, my greatest certainty about God, must never be eroded because my urgent prayers are not answered according to my longings. Accusing and blaming God will never be appropriate. God is certainly not to be blamed because His response does not meet my expectations of Him. And I'm certain God will never blame any of us for asking too much of Him. Nothing is too much for God, but many things of our choosing are not of the best for us.

I'm engulfed by mystery -the mystery that is God Himself...the mystery about how significant are our prayers. Jesus made it abundantly clear that He wants us to continue to pray with all the love and compassion at our command; also with total, unconditional trust in our heavenly Father.

As I see it, gradually our prayers change us -rather than change God. As we pass from bewilderment and even protest to acceptance we make His will our will. So when we obey the divine command to pray for our enemies they cease to be people whom we want to harm and become people we want God to bless. Through prayer they cease to be enemies. Through prayer our wills become aligned with God's, and so we draw closer to Him.

Such prayer helps us to mature spiritually. I would like to think these explorations into the value of our prayers have enriched our understanding of the mystery of God. Now we are called to make an act of faith in God Himself -that He responds to our petitions according to His wisdom and His love. In ways that are not obvious to us our prayers do benefit those we care intensely about, bringing to them blessings that we would never have suspected. So much will always remain unknown to us.

I'm convinced God never says, "No, I'm not interested in your prayers!" It's rather the case that God is profoundly interested, but not in the way we had anticipated.

Our prayers are helpful, in ways that we cannot discern, to a degree that we cannot measure. Our prayers will never be a waste of time and effort. Through them God reaches out to us. Through them God reaches out to those for whom we pray.

Peter O.P.

'Are you a battery hen or a free range chick?' wonders Isidore next week.

STANDING AND STARING

Some can't wait for holiday time to come. They feel stale and weary and need time to stand and stare without feeling guilty. Holidays break the routine of daily life, relieve the pressure and give us the chance to go to different places and do other things.


But there are also those who can't be persuaded to take a holiday. As for standing and staring...for them that's a shear waste of time. There's too much to do, and they think they can't be spared. They feel uncomfortable about taking time off. With this kind of mentality they become like hamsters on a treadmill, compelled to keep moving, simply to stay in the same place. From childhood they may have been told that the devil makes work for idle hands...so keep busy! They feel guilty if they're not always doing something useful.


But I wonder if 'Standing and Staring' is really such a waste of time. The poet, William Henry Davies, certainly didn't think so. He realised the need for us to be still and look if we're ever going to appreciate the beauty of the world around us. Those who are constantly in a hectic rush will notice nothing. That will impoverish the quality of their lives. And so Davies concludes:
"A poor life this, if full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare."


It's not just a question of noticing the world around us. We can be so busy doing things for people that we literally have no time for the people themselves -to be with them and enjoy their company. But if we don't make time for each other we will find that love and friendship will grow cold and we will drift apart.


The same is true with our Love for God. That's why the Psalmist urges us, (46. 10),
"Be still and know that I am God!"

It's through stillness, listening, talking, or simply being together and silently enjoying each other's company that we draw close to one another.


And that's the point of observing the Sabbath day of rest. This compassionate law was intended to give people, and even the beasts of burden, such as oxen and horses, a break from the rigours of weekday work. We're given a chance to re-build our strength. This break, this change in the rhythm of life, gives us quality time for God and each other. It's wonderful that when God's involved holidays become holy days.


The change in pace of holiday-time gives us the opportunity to develop hobbies which enrich our lives, and this makes us more interesting to other people. There's much truth in the saying, "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." We certainly do become crashing bores, if we can only talk about our own work and can take no interest in other people. And if we have no outside interests won't we be lost when retirement puts an end to our employment?


Peter and I had a retired aunt who used to go on holidays with our widowed mother. When our aunt returned home she would give an annual talk to a woman's group about the adventures and mishaps they'd experienced while on holiday. No one was certain whether she was simply accident-prone or looked for trouble in order to provide material for her talks. Poor mother certainly had to brace herself for the unexpected.

We brothers used to be very active in the Scout Movement. We'd cycle off with our camping kit. At dusk on one occasion we pitched our tent on an open common. Early in the morning, while we were still sleeping, we were roused by a loud, steady thumping outside. Peeping through our tent flaps we saw an enormous carthorse trotting around our tent. We feared it might take a short cut across us and our tent!

On another occasion, when our troop was on its annual camp, we senior scouts had to break camp unexpectedly one night. We then had to carry all our equipment on our backs and hike along a route flashed to us in Morse Code. In the dark we had to construct a rope bridge across a river, make a stretcher on which we were to carry one of the troop to the other side of the river. We dropped the poor fellow into the rushing water and the fast current carried away his trousers! So, he had to continue the hike without them. Fortunately for him all right-minded people were tucked up in bed and no one saw him.

Now advancing age has slowed us down. When one of us is able to cross the Atlantic for a holiday we're happy relaxing together, playing chess, listening to music....Most of all, we simply enjoy being together.

All of us feel fresher and better able to carry on after a break from the routine of our daily work. Recreation becomes re-creation or renewal, and so is not a waste of time.

Jesus realised this. When the apostles returned from gaining pastoral experience He urged them to come to a quiet place and rest,

"The apostles gathered around Jesus and told Him all they had done and taught. He said to them, 'Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.' For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure, even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves,"

(Mark 6. 30-33).

If they needed to relax and recoup their energy, so too, did Jesus. We can easily forget that the constant demands made upon Him must have left Him feeling physically and emotionally drained. He needed time and space to be still and quiet, to rest His mind and body, to rest in the Lord. And as He stopped and stared He was able to notice the ripening harvest, the lilies of the field, sheep and shepherds... and so much of daily life, which He was able to use in the powerful imagery of the parables of the Kingdom.

I hope I will always remember that being still and relaxing is an essential part of a well-balanced life. This is vital to my meeting God and my growing closer to Him. I must not only work for God, but also make time to relax with Him. Otherwise I will simply go through the motions and become zombie-like -dead inside.

Throughout the process of composing postings for our blog Peter and I have become convinced that God is to be found not only in the serious moments when we're explicitly doing His work, but also in the crazy light-hearted moments that He has provided for our refreshment. In God's world recreation becomes re-creation, holidays become holy days. With Paul's encouragement I don't need to feel guilty about wasting my time when I stand and stare,

"Whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord, giving thanks to the Father through Him,"

(Colossians 3. 17)

Isidore O.P.

Next week Fr. Peter will wonder "What happened to my prayers?"

A RAG DOLL

Such a darling child with a dazzling smile and a gurgling laugh....the child everyone wanted to hug...and why not? It was her birthday. Friends of the family dropped in to pay their respects and present their gifts...a variety of dolls, big ones, small ones; simple ones, others extravagant.

Each present reflected a calculated guess of what the child would appreciate. Or have I got it wrong? Could be the presents were chosen according to what would gain the respect and approval of the parents. I ponder. I wonder. I'm not into the dynamics and diplomacy of present-giving to other people's children.

Have you noticed how small infants are not well versed in the social graces of showering volumes of tactful gratitude upon those who appear to be in desperate need of it? This sweet mite impulsively grabbed the rag-doll from the pile of expensive presents. What she wanted, what she needed, according to a sublime instinct was this puny object, obviously made out of the off-cuts from the dressmaker. I stress the need because cuty-child and rag doll became inseparable companions, night and day.

No learned explanation do I have to offer why she preferred this ordinary scrappy thing to an exceptionally splendid doll that was huge, lavishly dressed, with eye that closed if it were held in a position of repose and which burped if its tummy were unceremoniously squeezed. (Who wouldn't do likewise?)

At the risk of making a fool of myself, I would like to suggest that there's a season, very early in life when instinctive cravings -such as to be nourished and comforted -correspond to absolute needs. It seems as though this infant craved for the rag-doll, rather than for the pricey one, because that was what she needed, must have. In her rag-doll she found peace and security.

Before not too long this child would come to want what she didn't really need. This would become the pattern for most of the rest of her life. I find this is also true of myself! And what about you?

I'm reminded of Luke 18. 15-17

"People even brought babies to Him, for Him to touch them; but when the disciples saw this they scolded them. But Jesus called the children to Him and said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such that the Kingdom of God belongs. In truth I tell you, anyone who does not welcome the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.'"

This little one is teaching me that I must revert to that distant time when my longings were far more simple and corresponded to my real needs...wholesome cravings implanted in me by God, my Creator. He, my Heavenly Father, has always intended me to live a wholesome life...with my ways being in step with His ways.

I, Yesterday's Child, am today to welcome the Kingdom of God by way of my godly choices. I, as an adult, am to learn that this all has to do with seeking and attaining simplicity and innocence. And this I find myself learning from a baby girl clutching a rag-doll!

Peter O.P.

Next week Fr. Isidore will meet God by Standing and Staring

EARS BUT CANNOT HEAR

"They have ears but cannot hear"

(Psalm 115. 6)

With these words Holy Scripture mocks pagan wooden idols. But deafness is no joke. Nor are those who are unable to hear to be despised.

When I wrote this piece I'd just experienced almost total deafness, which had taken me completely by surprise, even though my hearing had been gradually getting worse. I don't want to turn my problem into a major tragedy, especially since, thanks to de-waxing and a hearing aid, I can now hear the pattering of rain, and the whispering of people who would certainly have kept quiet if they'd realized I could now clearly hear what they were saying about me! Much to my relief, during my deaf period earphones had enabled me to listen to the radio and TV. But it was really distressing that my deafness prevented me from taking part in conversations. That, I found, made me feel very isolated and lonely.

My brief experience of almost total deafness gave me a hint of what it must be like for those who have never been able to hear anything at all. They spend their lives in a completely silent world, unable to hear the sound of voices, the song of birds, the beauty of music. They are deaf to warning signals, such as fire alarms, which would protect them from danger. When a member of my community came into my room to borrow some keys I didn't hear him knock on my door. His unexpectedly tapping the back of my shoulder to announce his presence made me jump up with fear.

Oh, I realize the deaf can learn sign language and lip reading. Although these skills are a great aid to communication they are but a poor substitute for the joy of really hearing a sound. But until I lost my hearing I hadn't realised how isolated deafness can make us; how much we take our hearing for granted -until we lose it.

When Jesus cured the deaf He not only restored their ability to hear the sounds of daily life, but also enabled them to get involved in conversations and discussions. Jesus broke down their isolation and enriched the whole quality of their lives. Such healing miracles are certainly powerful signs of the way the gift of faith opens our ears to the word of God, so that we can hear His voice and communicate with Him.

During my deafness I was really surprised that while I couldn't hear other people speaking I could still hear my own voice. How or why I don't know. This unsuspected blessing gave me the confidence to continue to say Mass and to preach. But if someone had heckled my sermon I wouldn't have heard him!

Being able to hear my own voice, but not other people's, got me thinking. Forget my temporary deafness. Before that occurred was I not so fond of the sound of my own voice that I didn't hear and listen to other people? And worse still, when I pray do I not go in for far too much talking without giving God a chance to get a word in edge-ways? In so doing, I deprive myself of hearing what He and they have to say to me. We, who are hard of hearing do tend to monopolize conversations so that we can control the situation and don't become isolated!

So, I realized that as I asked God to restore my physical hearing and strengthen my faith I also needed to ask Him to enable me to be quiet and listen to other people and to God Himself. I also need to realize that there's a vast difference between casually hearing and really listening, and by that I mean giving someone our undivided attention and actually heeding what he says.

I must meet God in the quietness of attentively listening to Him. Only in such silence can I hear what He is saying to me in ways which transcend physical sound. Perhaps God wanted my temporary deafness to teach me the value of silence, and most certainly to appreciate the wonder of being able to hear and listen once more.

Isidore O.P.

Next week Peter will Meet God in a Rag Doll

ONLY A FILM

I'd enjoyed reading the book -a brilliant, imaginative and convincing fantasy. Seeing it on a small screen was a revelation to me of the creative skills of the experts in computer technology. It was also a big let-down. How can one be impressed by imagery, no matter how exciting or romantic, when men and women appear no larger than toy soldiers and elephants are as small as the pet gerbil!

Everything changed when I was taken to see the same drama on a large cinema screen. Loud speakers were distributed throughout the auditorium so that all of us seemed to be encased in a capsule of sound.

There was I with my brothers engrossed in watching the film, "Jurassic Park." We had just been given an episode that was as serene as the Garden of Eden (NB -before the Fall !).It was so relaxing and reassuring to be drawn into a world that seemed to be totally at peace with itself. Small wonder I had drifted off into a cozy, dreamy doze.

And then ...an enormous, fearsome dinosaur filled the whole screen, silent..poised, menacing. Unexpectedly, a huge roar reverberated throughout the cinema. The thrusting monster leaped forward...at me, seated in one of the front rows, nearest the screen. Without a thought I rose from my seat and in terror yelled, "Oh, God!" at the top of my voice. Never before and never since have I felt such an urgent need for God to come to my rescue.

Of course, the spell of this day-time nightmare was immediately broken when everyone in the cinema began to laugh at impressionable me. For my part, I was shaken, emotionally exhausted. It had been so real. But then there were my brothers to bring me round to laugh at myself.

Only much later was I able to reflect on what had for me been a shattering experience. I was much sobered by the thought that I, and I suppose all other fellow human beings, do not have control of our emotional reactions. We cannot turn them off and on as easily as we can the images on our TV screens. Images can be so over-powering that at the time we are unable to distinguish between the fictional and the factual. We simply enter and identify with what is being presented to us.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I have wept when viewing DVDs of 'Les Miserables' and 'La Boheme.' Who has been left cold and unmoved when watching on-screen drama which is violent or sensual? Let no-one tell us it's only a film and these actions are being acted out. And that they're not reality.

True enough! Up to a point! Beyond that point we are liable to be influenced in our thinking, our attitudes and possibly our behaviour by what passes for reality shows and virtual reality. They can be for us an occasion of sin..in which, without thinking or consenting, we identify with screened hatred, jealousy, spite and vengeance or with lustful cravings. There will be those who will be inclined to act out in real life what they've seen acted in the world of fiction, without realizing that the seeds of these dispositions were sown during a time of recreation.

At the very least God has taught me to reflect on my outburst in the cinema and to question seriously the effect the mass media of communication has on the innocence of my imagination, my desires and fears, and ultimately on my conduct. Mywaygodsways through a dinosaur, as it were.

In truth, 'Only a Film' -what a film !

Peter O.P.

Next week Isidore will reflect on, "Ears but cannot hear."

We have installed a device to enable us to filter out the unsavoury abuse of what is meant to be a religious blog. This means there will be a slight delay between your making your comments and their being posted. Please don't let that put you off. We want to know what you think and will certainly publish criticisms and disagreements.

Peter and Isidore

MESSING ABOUT IN BOATS

Messing about in boats -the English love it! Not that we have a monopoly in this pass-time.

A number of years ago a friend invited me to join him and three others on a week's holiday on a fifty foot long barge. There's something special about that kind of holiday. The speed limit is 4mph. Anything faster and the barge's wash would damage the canal banks. After a few days my whole approach to life slowed down. On my return to terra firma I found the speed of traffic became intimidating; crossing a road scary. I resented the headlong rush following upon the leisurely pace of canal life.

And the whole canal environment, rooted in the industrial revolution, was fascinating. As we chugged along I marveled at the engineering feat in constructing the canals in order to move non-perishable goods around the country. Long tunnels or cuttings had to be hewn through rocky hillsides, or flights of locks constructed to go over rather than through them. There's the contrast between the quiet countryside, with its special canal wildlife, and then the approach to an industrial town by the 'tradesman's entrance,' with warehouses on the banks. These reminded me that the canals were originally constructed for industry, rather than for holiday- makers like me.

So far so good...but then I wonder. Was I made for crazy situations? Or were they made for me? Any way let me tell you about a bit of canal craziness.

Among us five there was this experienced ocean sailing yachtsman. He'd been so conditioned by the open seas that when we arrived at the marina to pick up our barge he asked for a compass. He didn't realize that the direction of our journey would be determined by that of the canal, not be a compass. And he couldn't adjust from the mindset of the open seas to that of inland waterways. So, although there were drinking-water taps every few miles along the banks of the canal, he was in constant fear of our running out of water. As a result he insisted on us filling up every pot and pan whenever we came to a tap.

This nautical expert was keen to impress us landlubbers with his seamanship. So, when he came to moor the barge he leaped from the prow with the rope in his hand. Unfortunately its length spanned only half the distance to the bank. Out he shot.. only to be jerked to a sudden halt. Still holding the rope in his hand he plummeted beneath the canal waters.

That was but the start of his misfortunes. After changing into some dry clothes he put his wet ones on the barge roof to dry. Up sprang a gust of wind, whisking his shorts overboard. Having retrieved them he sat disconsolately in the bows, nursing a strong drink. Whereupon a fly settled on his nose. As he brushed the irritant away he swept his spectacles off his nose and into the canal. Sad to say, after spending some time treading the muddy bottom he never found them. "Wet, deflated and miserable" about describes this nautical impresario.

I must confess that we were all amused that someone who had been so eager to impress us had come such a cropper. In his case pride had certainly come before a fall!

But how do I meet God in all this ? Well, in the 'Magnificat' we're told that He casts the mighty from their thrones and exalts the lowly. But I would do well not to become too smug about my friend's misadventures -lest in my pride, I, too, should be heading for a fall. St. Paul tells us about God choosing the foolish to confound the wise. So perhaps I need the painful lesson of making a fool of myself, and being brought low, If I'm to learn some wisdom and meet God. The foolish bit I can easily manage -but learning wisdom from my folly is another matter!

Isidore O.P.

Next week Fr Peter will Meet God in 'Only a Film'

We have installed a device to enable us to filter out the unsavoury abuse of what is meant to be a religious blog. This means there will be a slight delay between your making your comments and their being published. Please don't let this put you off. We want to know what you think and will certainly publish criticisms and disagreements. Peter and Isidore

MAN'S BEST FRIEND?

This was one of those glorious days that promised to be completely satisfying and gratifying. The sun was shining as I set out to take Holy Communion to the sick and the aged in their homes, rounding off the morning with a visit to the General Hospital where I would administer the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick to several patients.

I enjoy this ministry because I invariably witness the consolation this Sacrament brings. I am moved and inspired by their strong faith. Their appreciation makes me feel good about my priesthood. When possible I try not to make very many calls, so that I can have the leisure to exchange a few pleasantries with all the family.

Sometimes when I recite the Second Joyful Mystery of the Rosary that is the Visitation, I, carrying Jesus in the Eucharist to homes, identify with Mary, who carried Jesus in her womb to the home of her cousin Elizabeth. It is a privilege to be a Christ bearer to others.

Now I have a problem Reaching God ...My Way. It's like this.
Just as I was leaving the last house of my rounds a vicious little dog rushed out from beneath the house and bit my leg. Look at my trouble! Where was God in this! What was He saying to me? How did He expect me to reach Him in these circumstances? My first reaction was that a dog is not necessarily man's best friend -certainly not mine!

After receiving my anti-tetanus injection I reflected on how readily the sick and the frail relate their own disabilities to Jesus, who suffered, died and rose for them. Their triumph is that with Christ-like trust in their heavenly Father they can unite their own vulnerability with that of Jesus. He understands and shares their pain. They understand and share His. They draw consolation in their tribulations from this Sacrament of communion with Jesus in His own suffering, death and resurrection.

My thoughts then turned to the Ministers of the Eucharist. There have been times, and there are still situations, when it is hazardous to life itself for priests to celebrate Mass and to take the Sacraments to the sick.

From this perspective my dog bite was trivial -no big thing!. All the same, it has been salutary for me to recognise that men have so valued their ministry that they have been prepared to expose themselves to extreme occupational hazards. Who am I, then, to complain about a bite from an unfriendly dog? No room here for self-pity, nor for the presumption of identifying myself with these courageous witnesses to the Faith.

I Reach God ...My Way by accepting with tranquility that I was called to shed blood, no more than a couple of drops, in God's good cause.

Peter O.P.

Next week Isidore will meet God ...through messing about in boats.

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