A sermon on Christian meditation from Father Ryan Erlenbush. August 7th

Elijah, praying alone on Mount Horeb

19^th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A

August 7^th, 2011

1 Kings 19:9a, 11-13a; Matthew 14:22-33

At the mountain of God, Horeb, Elijah came to a cave where he took shelter. […] There was a tiny whispering sound. When he heard this, Elijah hid his face in his cloak and went and stood at the entrance of the cave.

Jesus went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When it was evening he was there alone.

Beginning to sink, Peter cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Today’s readings, especially the first reading and the Gospel, teach us the fundamentals of prayer. We see the two essential movements of prayer: First, there is mediation and contemplation – which is shown in Elijah and, most perfectly, in our Savior; it is the example of going up the mountain alone to prayer – and, second, there is supplication or petition – this we see (albeit in an imperfect way) in St. Peter, when he cries out “Lord, save me!”.
These are the two movements: Meditation, which is that mental prayer where we quiet ourselves and enter into loving union with God; and petition, the prayer where we ask the good God to give us all the graces we need for today, for tomorrow, and at the moment of our death.

First, there is mental prayer, that meditation which leads to contemplation. St. John Chrysostom tells us that two things are necessary for true mental prayer – a quiet place, and time. Notice the example of Elijah, the great prophet of the Old Testament. First, he heard the wind which crushed the rocks, but God wasn’t in the wind. Then there was the earthquake and finally also the fire, but God was not in these either. Rather, God came to Elijah in the tine whisper – this is the gentle and often very subtle movement of the Holy Spirit.

If the Holy Spirit is so gentle and often speaks to us through a little whisper, then it is obvious that we will have to listen attentively in order to hear him. We need to quiet ourselves in order to hear his voice and to follow his inspirations.

Today’s world is so busy and loud, we need a quiet place to pray. Of course, the church is a very special place for prayer, but also in our homes we need to take time to step away from the daily duties of life, to retreat to a quiet room, to shut the door, to quiet ourselves and to seek God.

We must point out that every family has not only the right but also the obligation to set aside time for daily meditation or mental prayer. Husbands and wives have a duty to provide each other with time for prayer – and parents with young children should be teaching them how to pray as well.

Of course the family should pray together – we mention especially the family Rosary. If your family is not in the practice of saying the Rosary together every day, the month of August (which is the month dedicated to the Immaculate Heart of Mary) is a great time to start. Perhaps five decades seems like too much at first … fine, we can start with one decade, or at least three Hail Mary’s. Then, we can build from this starting place. Little by little we will grow as a family.

Still, in addition to that common family prayer, the couple must allow each other – and their children as well, once they are old enough – the time for quiet personal prayer and meditation in a separate room apart from the business of the family life.

Now the next question is about time. How much time should we give over to prayer every day? The saints recommend at least fifteen minutes, though twenty would be better. Yes, twenty minutes of quiet reflective meditation every day is so important for us! How can we expect to fulfill all the duties of our daily lives if we are not praying?

Moreover, when we think about how many minutes we should pray, we ought to remember that prayer is all about developing a relationship with the Lord. Could we have a loving intimate relationship with any human being if we only spoke for two or three minutes a day? What if the only time we spoke to our husband was to ask for things, never to simply speak words of Love? Likewise, what if a man only spoke to his wife in a distracted and disinterested manner, perhaps for a few minutes a day or not even every day? This would never work among human being! Why should we think that such little prayer would work with God?

We will say this: If fifteen minutes of prayer every day seems too long, I reply in the spirit of St. Josemaria Escriva – the prayer is not too long, but your love is too short!

Still, we must not be discouraged. If all we can do in the beginning is five minutes, that is fine, it is a place to start. We begin wherever we are and we try to build from there. Sometimes I think that if we only got a little bit better at prayer every day, we would be saints in no time!

And what is this meditation supposed to be about? What are we supposed to do for those twenty minutes every day? We can consider the Rosary – the Rosary will teach us much about the nature of mental prayer and meditation.

When we meditate, we are to consider the mysteries especially of Jesus’ life, death and Resurrection, as well as the other mysteries of our Faith – the Trinity, creation, the final judgment. We think upon these mysteries and we consider the great love that Almighty God has shown us through these events.

Christian meditation is all about love, thinking upon God’s love for us and how he has shown us this love in Christ Jesus – and, filled with the divine love, making small acts of love for God in return. To say, “Jesus, how you have loved me! You love me so much that you have died for me! In turn, let me love you!”

Notice how different Christian meditation is from Eastern forms of prayer. Eastern meditation is all about emptying ourselves, dissolving into the “power” of the Universe, clearing our minds to become nothing. Eastern prayer is self-annihilation, but Christian mediation is focused primarily on being filled! Christian prayer is about being filled with God’s love. Far from clearing our minds and entering into nothingness, Christian meditation is focused on thinking about Jesus, about the mysteries of the Faith, about the love of God; and then making acts of love in return. Finally, Christian meditation culminates in the simple loving gaze of the creature upon his Creator.

How far we are from Eastern prayer, and from such practices as “centering prayer” or “yoga”. Centering prayer and yoga are focused on emptying the self, on clearing the mind so as to think of nothing – this is the opposite of Christian mediation. If we are practicing centering prayer or yoga, we need to cut that out immediately – it has nothing at all to do with the Gospel!

Remember, “Mother Earth” does not love you. I hope you know that “Mother Earth” does not love you – she cannot love you because she is not a person. God, the Most Holy Trinity, is three Persons who love you intensely, who want to be united with you, to dwell in you, to elevate you and glorify you by a share in their own life.

And then, finally and very briefly, we come to the very necessary second movement of prayer: Supplication, the prayer of petition. When we see just how much Jesus loves us, we are then filled with a confidence to ask of him all the graces we need to fulfill our vocation in life.

St. Peter, when he was walking on the water, became troubled and fearful seeing the storm and the waves – we too will have many storms to weather, but like St. Peter will be saved if only we cry to the good Jesus, Lord, save me! This is the prayer of petition – asking for the graces needed in the moment and, especially, for the grace to be united to God at the moment of death.

More than anything else, every day we must ask God to bring us to heaven when we die. We must ask God for the grace of final perseverance, which is the grace to turn to him in the last moment of life and to give ourselves completely over to his love.

Be sure of this, if we do not pray and ask to go to Heaven, we won’t. If we do not beg the Lord for the grace to be faithful to the end, we will certainly be damned. All the saints in Heaven are there for this one reason, they prayed and asked for the grace of salvation. Conversely, all the damned in Hell are there for this one reason, they did not pray and they did not ask for the grace of perseverance.

Do you see? Prayer is everything! Our good God loves us so much and he has so many good things that he wants to give us, if only we would pray, if only we would ask for his benefits. Indeed, if we are filled with the love of God and if we persevere in asking the good Lord to bring us to union with himself, we can be sure that he will give us the great glory of life everlasting.

On Humility, Sermon of July 3rd

See how humble our Jesus is: a donkey was his throne in Jerusalem!
St. Josemaria Escriva, The Way 606

14^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

July 3^rd, 2011

Matthew 11:25-30

Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light.

As we hear our Savior’s words my yoke is easy, and my burden light, we may ponder and question within ourselves: “How can it be that taking up a yoke should make our way easier? How can adding a burden make us lighter?” And, if we consider the matter, we will not be surprised to discover that St. Augustine (who asked and answered most of the modern questions we have about the Bible and the Faith) discussed this point also, and offers us a most insightful answer.

How can a burden lighten the load? St. Augustine gives us the analogy of a bird, take for example a dove. As we consider the dove we recognize that its wings add weight to its body – in this sense, they are a burden. As the dove walks along upon the ground, it must bear this load, this burden of its own wings. It carries these wings along.

However, if anyone – desiring to free the bird of this additional weight – came and clipped the wings back, who would say that he had made the bird lighter? Surely, the bird would weigh less, but now it would be confined to the ground and could no longer fly to the heavens. This small burden of the wings, truly lightens and frees the bird.

So it is with the imitation of Christ. On one level, following our Lord is a yoke and a burden – we take up his example, we take up the Cross, and we follow. However, more profoundly, we must say that this yoke is easy and the burden is light; since, by bearing this load we made truly free.

And what is the burden our Savior gives us? What is the yoke by which we are to imitate the good Jesus?

The Lord says learn from me. And what are we to learn? He does not say learn from me that I created the heavens and the earth, that I am the almighty God. Nor does he say learn from me that I have worked great miracles and converted peoples. Nor even does Christ tell us learn from me that I have preached well and proclaimed the truth with power.

Rather, before all else, Jesus tells us learn from me that I am meek and humble of heart. Humility, Christ tells us to imitate his humility before all else.

Humility is the foundation of the virtues, as charity is their queen. But what is humility?

Principally, humility is about how we relate to God. To be humble is to admit that every good thing we have and every good act we do comes from God as from its first cause. We are only instruments – free instruments, true, who cooperate with his grace – but still, we are only instruments in the hand of God. Thus, whatever good we possess must be credited more to God than to ourselves.

However, when it comes to evil, to vice, and to sin, this we claim for ourselves. Whatever is good in us comes from God, but whatever is evil comes solely from ourselves.

Hence, in true humility we admit that we are nothing without God, but we quickly add that – by his grace – the good Lord makes us to be something great. The virtue of humility is that burden that, by lowering us in our own estimation, raises us to the heights of heaven by the grace of God.

Humility also has an aspect of relation to others. Humility does not mean ignoring certain objective facts: We cannot deny it if we participate more fully in the sacramental life of the Church than our neighbor. It is ok to admit that we are more faithful to Sunday Mass than another.

Moreover, by certain manifest facts, we can even say that we seem to be further along in the spiritual life than others. It will do no good to completely ignore reality or to simply refrain from making any conclusion whatsoever – this would be a bit ridiculous.

Still, humility leads us to think less of ourselves in the sense that we admit that whatever is good in us is from God – therefore, we cannot boast over others, but we must give the glory to God alone. Indeed, perhaps today you are raised up above your neighbor, but maybe tomorrow you will fall and God will raise him up in your place. This is humility, to recognize it all depends upon God and there is no room for our boastful pride.

Moreover, we know that we have each been given many graces, and we have wasted many of them. Perhaps our neighbor has been given less graces and has done more with the little he had. Thus, we can never know who is truly greater; and it is always God who is greatest anyways.

Humility, united with charity, will certainly get us to heaven. And so we must pray for the virtue of humility. But be careful, God just might give you what you ask for. Because humility is gained only through suffering humiliations, and so we must receive these with joy as coming from the good Lord.

St. Josemaria Escriva, one of the great saints of modern time, spoke well to this point: “You are not humble,” he said, “when you humble yourself, but when you are humbled by others and bear it willingly for Christ.”

To be truly humble is to desire the lowest place and, when the lowest place is given you, to receive it with joy.

Lowering ourselves in the eyes of others, Christ our Savior will raise us up on high.

As you walk along the way, Christ is passing by. Sermon of May 8th

3^rd Sunday of Easter

May 8^th, 2011

Luke 24:13-35

Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way?

I would like to share with you a very personal story from my time in seminary. In fact, I want to tell you about an experience I had in confession while I was training for the priesthood. You see, all the seminarians go to confession at least once each month; many of us even would go every week. And the seminary has older, experienced, and wise priests who assist the seminarians in the spiritual life and who are available for the sacrament of reconciliation.

I recall on time when I went to confession to one of these wise old monsignors, a holy and devout man – and, before we began the confession, he told me that we would read a passage of the Scriptures and listen to what the Lord had to say to me in the sacrament.

The old priest proceeded to open the Bible at random and, in a manner with which I am sure many of you are familiar, he read the first passage that he came to. For my part, I prayed to the good Lord that I might be open to hear what he wanted to tell me through this Bible verse.

But the passage the monsignor began to read was like one of those obscure parts of the Old Testament – something like, “So and so begot so and so who begot so and so who begot so and so …” and so forth. I’ll be honest, I could not immediately see what this passage had to do with my life or how the Lord was speaking to me through it. So I prayed, “Lord open my heart and my mind to hear your voice.”

Well, the priest finished the passage, closed the Bible and sat back in prayer. I could tell he was moved by the Holy Spirit and that whatever he said next would be filled with wisdom. The holy old priest began at that moment to pray – and he said, “Lord … we have no idea what you are trying to tell us through that Bible verse!” J

Indeed, it caught me by such surprise that I too had to chuckle a bit.

Maybe we feel that way pretty often as we read the Scriptures. We think, “Lord, what do you want from me? What are you telling me?” Perhaps our hearts and minds are closed and we cannot recognize the Lord’s voice even in the Scriptures themselves.

This was very much the experience of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. They did not yet understand the Scriptures, nor did they understand what Christ wanted from them or for them. They were lost and in darkness – but the Lord came into their midst and revealed himself. In the breaking of the bread, that is in the Eucharistic mystery, these two disciples recognized the Lord and come to understand the true meaning of the Scriptures.

There are, of course, many techniques for reading the Bible effectively. There are many valid and good methods of prayer – but among them all, one that seems to be particularly helpful in the modern day is to try to put ourselves into the biblical narrative. As we read a passage from the Bible, it may be helpful to try to identify with one or more of the biblical characters – to see ourselves reflected in the men and women spoken of in the Bible story.

As we read of the mysterious encounter on the road to Emmaus, it is probably very easy for us to identify with Cleopas and his companion – we can easily recognize ourselves in these two; how we meet Christ at the most unexpected but also most necessary times. And this is very good – we are very much like those two.

However, I would like to look at the story from a slightly different perspective – it is that which was given by St. Josemaria Escriva, a Spanish priest during their Civil War and truly one of the greatest priests of modern times. Fr. Escriva tells us that we ought not only to see ourselves in those two disciples, but we must identify with Christ Jesus himself.

As those two disciples went along the way, they were on the point of despair, steeped in sorrow and lost in spiritual darkness. They are symbolic of the world today: A world of inexpressible sorrow, a world which is nearly lost in despair. Indeed, the great sin of the modern age is not overindulgence, it’s despair! We live in an age without hope and without joy – and, as Christians, we have much to offer.

The characteristic of the Christian faith is supernatural joy. What the Christian has to offer the world is hope in the midst of suffering, joy in the midst of darkness. We must spread the light of Christ, which is the teachings of his Gospel, to all peoples – for this alone will bring the world true joy and true peace.

In this respect, St. Josemaria tells us that we are to be as Christ to the world. When we read this passage we must learn to see ourselves reflected in the Risen Lord. The holy priest tells us that, when we finish a conversation with co-workers, or neighbors, or family and friends, they ought to be inspired to turn to one another and say, “Were not our hearts burning within us as that Christian spoke to us on the way!”

Are we Christ to the world? Do we ignite the fire of divine charity in the hearts of those with whom we speak? Are we as Christ not only to our friends and loved ones, but also to those whom we maybe don’t like so much?

This is the challenge which Fr. Escriva gives us today and throughout this week – That we might imitate Christ and bring the joy of the Gospel to those whom we meet, whosoever they may be.

And, as we walk along the way, may people recognize that in us Christ is passing by.