By FR. KEVIN M. CUSICK
A moment of dawning experience when I was young gave birth to a nearly perfect prayer.
This farewell to innocence of which I speak was a blessing. In the light of it I came to know the presence of God through His goodness which is the heart of prayer in the life of faith.
I remember the experience vividly. I was lying awake one night in bed during that period which, no matter how brief, usually seems lengthy while waiting for the mind to slow, allowing sleep to come.
My mother, father, and siblings were all asleep around me in the quiet house. I began to think of each and all of them with an appreciation deep enough to take me beyond that typical taking for granted — to which we can all too often fall prey.
And then something else happened: I had reached a point of situational awareness that brought with it the realization that nothing in my life had to be this way. My parents, my siblings, our home, our life together: In the very same way that all of this did indeed happen none of it might have happened at all. I realized that everyone I loved did not have to be. And I knew then that Someone was behind it all.
Though I could not possibly have verbalized it at the time, I knew that we had all begun as ideas in the loving and creative mind of God but that grace and goodness guided by Him had brought everything necessary to fulfill His loving plan.
The sheer contingency of it all and the realization of goodness with and in it brought tears to my eyes. I lay awake weeping with profound joy and gratitude for some time, the sobs coming from deep within me, until the surge of emotion subsided.
My life didn’t have to be this way. And yet it was. From this promontory of newly acquired wisdom, from which I viewed what was and prepared for what would be, there were two ways opened to me. On the one hand sheer contingency and chance, the invitation to despair and annihilation, and on the other Providence, love, and faith.
This continental divide of life was the moment that faith in me was born. But it was a prayer that gave it life.
Looking back I realize now it was a prayer of gratitude. It was nearly as pure a prayer as a person can make because I was still quite young at that point. This was the reason that the philosophical propositions made possible by the idea of contingency and the questions posed by it were so new and so powerful.
That Someone was behind the sheer giftedness of my life was the graced proposal of faith and the call to assent.
Certainly it was a tremendous grace to be lifted momentarily out of taking what was closest to me for granted, the source so often of so much of our unhappiness. It would be much to be desired could we summon such an epiphany at will. But I found it was not to be.
Soon after this experience I was bothered by the fact that it did not recur, that I could not summon the profound sense of wonder at goodness and the tears that had accompanied it. I wanted to return to that pure place of gratitude and joy, a connection with the goodness of God which is the heart of prayer.
As I often would do then I turned for an answer to my sister, the sole older sibling from whom I had so often sought advice. At the root of my worry was the suspicion that obviously it could be for the reason of some fault in me that it did not come again. She offered the opinion that some things happen only once and I accepted the explanation. Time has proven the truth of it.
We can grow weary of prayer through taking God for granted. He is so close to us in Jesus Christ that we can actually be with Him and receive Him truly present every day if we so choose at Mass. Such closeness on the part of One who loves us so much follows logically from His power, but truly makes sense only in light of His love.
But we grow weary even of God because of our humanity and not due to any lack in Him. The truth of this is seen in so many who swear to the faith and yet do not follow through on what they profess.
The Lord Himself alludes to the challenge of faith when He asks, “When the Son of Man comes will there be any faith left on earth?” (Luke 18:8).
We can each make sure the answer is yes if we will but pray as the Lord asks. The perfect prayer of the Mass is His prayer. His prayer takes place not only in His words but though His Body. From His Body on the cross dying for us, He prays, “It is finished.” Only with the total offering of God for us does His loving gift become truly ours.
When we wonder about the sincerity of our prayer or fight distraction we need only look to His sacred humanity pinned to the cross, His hands held in place by the nails so that we will have the better of the fight against sin (Exodus 17:8-13).
“This is my Body,” He says through the priest at every Holy Sacrifice, and the Scriptures proclaim of Him, “A body you have prepared for me” (Heb. 10:5).
It is also we who are His Body on Earth of which He speaks. Doesn’t the gift of His flesh which we consume in the Eucharist make this obvious?
As His Mystical Body the Church Body we must enter into His prayer and it must become our own. Certainly we are so instructed by Him present in the Eucharist, giving Himself to us, “Hoc est enim Corpus Meum quod pro vobis tradetur” (Luke 22:19).
In a living daily way with the grace of Baptism and the upbuilding in the Eucharist we are called in all things to be His Body at prayer. Not only at the Mass as we open our hearts and minds to His Word in Scripture and then more wonderfully receive Him if in a state of grace for the increase of such. No, we also must take the Gift as given for sign and source to be always members of His Body in the world as well.
Christ Himself will then be the goodness at the heart of our prayer. He prays always and we in Him.
Thank you for reading and praised be Jesus Christ, now and forever — @MCITLFrAphorism.
(Join me for a pilgrimage to Fatima on the 100th anniversary of the apparitions. For details visit proximotravel.com and search using my name Father Kevin M and the state of Maryland. Or email me at mcitl.blogspot.com@gmail.com.)
Powered by WPtouch Mobile Suite for WordPress