Tag: prayer

On the Lent of life.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart And lean not on your own understanding. — Proverbs 3:5-6 These are not easy times. Every day we open our eyes to a world of bad news, a struggle for survival, and apocalyptic expectations. Mid-century-style Stalinism is taking over Russia, the Seventh Century is taking over the …

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On angry psalmody.

My regular readers know that I spent the last month and a half at St. Scholastica Monastery in Duluth, Minnesota, working and thinking and losing myself among the meadows, and losing my senses to the quiet ecstasy of the northern forest and the poignant little wild northern flower. And praying. Losing myself in the chapel. …

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On mountain ash and other miracles.

My heart goes pitter-patter when the shuttle leaves Minneapolis and I catch the first glimpses of Minnesota birches. Then one after another birch groves begin to pass by and patches of tall, straight pines crowned at the top. Mixed foliage of maples, aspen, and ash, linden trees… This is the North, and I recognize the …

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On changing God’s mind.

My parish priest, Father Fran, once told a story during a homily: A little boy came to his father and said, “Daddy, can I please, please have a little brother? I want a little brother!” The man smiled knowingly and replied, “All right. If you pray really hard, every day, twice a day, for about …

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A prayer.

Today was a long, marginally strange day filled with words and roads and streaming thoughts and tiny emotional upheavals. Tomorrow will be another day, and I fly through the sky and land and fly again, and say good-byes and hellos. I don’t want to go another week without talking to you, my friends, but I …

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On my wind-blown heart.

I am in Kansas now, like some through-the-looking-glass Dorothy, where left is right, and I know this isn’t home but my fleeting, exhausting, ruthless and wind-blown fairy tale, and soon an airplane-shaped tornado will carry back home the little old me, just the same as I was and yet not the same. Because I’ve been …

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On why the Dominicans.

There are hundreds of religious congregations with presence in the United States. How, in my discernment, with all this choice available, through a series of decisions, over the course of all this time, have I come to believe that I belong to the legacy of St. Dominic that started in the 13th century, in a …

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On my prayer to You, my Love.

What is my prayer to you, my Love? What is my worship? What is my praise? They speak of these things to me, and they ask me: When? How much? How often? They ask what I do and how I worship You. Tell me, what do You hear? What do You see as I walk along? …

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On pluralism

God doesn’t care what we call Him, how we pray, or whether we pray. He cares how we love, for He is Love.

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On a passerby

The other day, driving over the Schuykill river, I was rudely cut off by a little blood-red and sporty-looking number, young man at the wheel glued to his cell phone as he threaded his way through the busy highway bridge. Three lanes pretty packed with cars and trucks, no real shoulder, metal on both sides, and only abyss underneath, and he ripped through us like a serrated knife, leaving behind jagged lines, brake lights, and rooster-like cries of the horns. Then he filled my cabin with exhaust and disappeared out of my life.

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