Keep That Altar in Your Hearts

I have an old book, a paperback whose crispy yellowed pages are held together by rubber bands. As far as I can tell, the title is now out of print. I found the story (a true one) riveting when I read it some years ago, so I typed out fragments of it.  I ran across one of these pages today, and immediately wanted to share something from it here.

The story is of a Sister Cecilia, who helped other Christians flee persecution in the second world war. 
Sister's convent had been torn apart, and these words were spoken by the priest during the last Mass in the chapel... 

'Don't lose faith in God... 
build your own altar in your heart,
an altar which no human hands can tear down as they have torn these paintings down, 
which nobody can destroy as this altar has been destroyed.  
Keep that altar in your hearts.'   
(from The Deliverance of Sister Cecilia as told to William Brinkley, Signet/New American Library, 1954)

This link tells more about the title.  And, thanks to a kind commenter, this link might help anyone interested in doing so to find a copy of the book.

In the meantime, I hope to carry that last sentence with me. No matter where we are, ever; or what happens around us, ever: 

We can keep that altar in our hearts. 





Photo on this post by Connie Wells
 

The Divine Office: Together We Pray

I used to have little appreciation for the Liturgy of the Hours. I considered it ‘too structured,’ ‘too formal,’ and a mere recitation of words other people had written. It could be spoken while the speaker’s mind wandered anywhere and everywhere (I decided)… so wouldn’t such a practice just lead to dry, lifeless prayer?

I could not have been more wrong.  

The Liturgy of the Hours, also known as the ‘Divine Office,’ is an official group of prayers used by priests and Religious. It is a primary part of the daily schedules of monks and nuns.  

The Divine Office is the same for people throughout the Church, throughout the world. On the very same day, Father O’Neill in Dublin and a group of monks in Sydney and a monastery of nuns in Toledo are praying the exact same words.

And I can pray with them, if I wish.

As I wrote here a few weeks ago, the Liturgy of the Hours helps my prayer stay on track. In it, scripture is right before me; thus I have 'grillwork' for my day.  I am praying with the whole Church, right along with Father O'Neill and the monks in Sydney and the Toledo nuns. And, if I'm tempted to bypass prayer, I get help to carry me past my (laziness, in my case).

Do I, personally, pray the entirety of the Liturgy of the Hours?  No.  But My goal is to work toward that. I'm making a commitment to at least pray part of it every day.  I hope to pray more and more of it, to 'baby step' my way into staying solidly on its tracks throughout the day.

In my haphazard life (and my very nature is 'haphazard'), I definitely need some of that structure I once dreaded.  Otherwise, I wind up wasting entire days.

I find that those 'words others have written' often turn out to be cries and groanings from my very heart.

Does my mind wander while I pray in this way?  My mind wanders no matter how I pray.  The Divine Office helps call the drifting mind back.

Does the Liturgy of the Hours lead me to the dry, lifeless prayer I feared?  No.  Sometimes I feel dry and lifeless, yes, but again:  that would happen no matter how I pray.  The printed words help me stay focused.

In some key ways, the Liturgy of the hours is a lens that helps me zoom right in on the presence and reality of God.

Where can we find the Liturgy of the Hours? 

A WONDERFUL resource is Divine Office.org.  I cannot recommend this highly enough.  It is free, it has all of the hours available for reading or for listening to, and it's a marvelous tool for those of us who have trouble finding our way through the books themselves.  It's all right there for us.  The one and four volume breviaries are available for purchase at this site as well.

And for an excellent explanation of this kind of prayer, check out Daria Sockey's blog Coffee and Canticles for 'About the Liturgy of the Hours. '  

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It is Faith

'No one
is a martyr 
for a conclusion; 
No one 
is a martyr 
for an opinion; 
It is faith 
that makes martyrs.' 

Blessed John Henry Newman 


















Painting: Gustave Dore

Itty Bitty Martyrs, Teeny Tiny Saints

I was raised, in Catholic school, on stories of martyrs. Those gilded, shimmering beings who (I just knew) had floated through their lives on a plane above the rest of us, smiling at their hangmen and singing for joy in prison cells.

It did not occur to me that the wounds of such heroes might actually hurt. Nor that anyone called to such glory would not feel instantly glorious. Oh no. I was sure these shining ones were granted special dispensations from pain.

I even brought them, sometimes, into my young world of pretend.  Crossing arms across my chest, gazing wistfully at the sky with head tilted back, I glided across my front yard confident that I looked exactly like the painting on a holy card. 'Goodbye world... so long, family.... farewell, neighbors playing cowboys....  I bequeath to you the cars in my sandbox and my swing hung on a tree and even my black cocker spaniel.  As for me, I'm off to dance amid the flames.....'   

Fast forward many years. As a grownup in today's world, I recognize the truth that martyrdom hurts.  That prison cells are far from comfortable.  That people in flames don't feel so much like dancing. 

I also recognize something else.  I have finally gotten the message that sainthood isn't only for some.  It is for every single one of us. And martyrdom?  Well, that's not a word we're tossing around lightly these days.

I have been thinking a lot, again, of the littlest martyrdoms.  The ones we face day after day.  I know I just posted about this last time, but it is staying on my mind.  It sticks with me like a persistent call to prayer, like the insistent clang of a monastery bell.

'Offer that pain for this intention'
'When you're insulted for Me, choose to count it joy'
'Pray for My Church'
'Accept this cross as prayer for those who are suffering'
'Die to your own will in this matter'
'Intercede for an end to abortion'
'Pray for Godliness in the world'
'Do not participate in this evil'
'Don't react to that person in anger'
'No one is standing up for Me.  Will you?'
'The world is in trouble.'
'Pray'  
'Offer'
'Pray'

My little deaths to self are, when compared to true martyrdom, oh so tiny. My steps toward sainthood are wobbly and small.

But I am failing God if I don't take those steps.  I'm failing Him when I don't cooperate with His call.

You and I?  We may feel that in God's plans we are teeny.

But we have the call to be heroes.  We have the call to be saints.

Painting at top of post:  Scherrer, St. Joan departure, in US public domain due to age
Joan the Woman movie poster in public domain


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I Shall be Telling This with a Gulp

I type the following with a gulp.

'Come, my sweetest Jesus, that I may now be inseparably united to Thee in time and eternity:  welcome ropes, hurdles, gibbets, knives, and butchery; welcome for the love of Jesus, my Savior.' (St. Henry Morse)

I was okay until the ropes.

I can pray the first line of that prayer with all my heart.  I'm able to sing it, rejoice in it, even make it into an aspiration to repeat throughout the day.

But I gulp when I read about the ropes, and the knives, and the butchery.  But then, I'm not in the position of St. Henry, who apparently said these words while facing martyrdom in 1645.

I've been thinking about the sorts of things I'm willing (and not willing) to face if I am going to truly follow Christ.  Things I sometimes encounter in the midst of my ordinary, regular, day-to-day life.

Knives (I've realized) do not have to be physical to hurt us.  Anyone who has ever been sliced by words knows the truth of this.  The butchery of gossip?  Of being mocked or belittled?  Of being verbally attacked for standing up for the Gospel?  It can be brutal.  To remain true to Jesus when we know we'll be cut down for loving and obeying Him - well, that takes grace. 

Thankfully, He provides all the grace we need, just when we need it.  All we must do is accept, and trust, and hand ourselves over to Him (not to 'them,' but to Him) when we are presented with opportunities to do so.

I am convinced that we can reach out for His grace and stand strong for Jesus Christ.  Even in the midst of our gulps. 

'When the hour comes, you will be given what you are to say.  You yourselves will not be the speakers; the Spirit of your Father will be speaking in you.'  (Matthew 10:19-20)

Painting:  Stefano Novo, The Gossips, in US public domain due to age {{PD-1923}}

 

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