Prayer

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Day by Day

Everyone of my generation will recognize the song “Day by Day” by Stephen Schwartz. It was made popular in the 1971 musical Godspell:

Day by day,
Dear Lord, of thee three things I pray:
To see thee more clearly,
Love thee more dearly,
Follow thee more nearly,
Day by day.

I was a junior in college and the lilting melody of the tune perfectly expressed the sentiment of the times. I probably hummed along to the melody a thousand times before learning that it came from a prayer attributed to my patron, Saint Richard of Chichester whose feast day is today, April 3.

Richard didn’t have the panache of more famous saints. He was an archbishop in Sussex, England. He broke no glass ceilings like Joan of Arc. Unlike Stephen the Martyr (the name I chose for Confirmation), Richard died of natural causes at age 56 in 1253. He never gained global notoriety as has Dominic who died in 1221 or Francis of Assisi who died in 1223. You will not even find reference to him in the Roman Missal for this date!

Today Richard is really only remembered for the popular prayer ascribed to him:

Thanks be to Thee, my Lord Jesus Christ
For all the benefits Thou hast given me,
For all the pains and insults Thou hast borne for me.
O most merciful Redeemer, friend and brother,
May I know Thee more clearly,
Love Thee more dearly,
Follow Thee more nearly.

Richard is believed to have recited the prayer on his deathbed with the words transcribed, in Latin, by his confessor Ralph Bocking, a Dominican friar.  If you care to know more, Wikipedia is as good of source as any [link]. 

My purpose is simply to share a great prayer in celebration of my feast day. Saints gave kids of my generation our own version of super-heroes! Only quite a while later did I make any association between such characters and the creedal formula about a “communion of saints” which we unreflectively mumble through at church on most Sundays.

I’m not looking for Richard to garner a great cult-following. Sarcastically I’d say, find your own saint! Who do you claim? When is your feast day? Next time you recite the Creed at church, be a bit more intentional when you profess faith in a “communion of saints.” There are so many good reasons to celebrate — day by day!

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Death, Be Not Proud

Today, March 31 is the anniversary of the death of John Donne, Anglican priest and poet in 1631. I am familiar with only a small portion of his writing but everything I have read has left me stunned with its sublime beauty and profound spiritual insight. Perhaps you know this selection from MEDITATION XVII in his Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions: 

“No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend’s or of thine own were; any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” 

The following is not only my favorite of Donne’s Holy Sonnets, it is among my all-time favorite prayer-poems, ever…

Batter my heart, three-person’d God, for you

As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;

That I may rise and stand, o’erthrow me, and bend

Your force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.

I, like an usurp’d town to another due,

Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end;

Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,

But is captiv’d, and proves weak or untrue.

Yet dearly I love you, and would be lov’d fain,

But am betroth’d unto your enemy;

Divorce me, untie or break that knot again,

Take me to you, imprison me, for I,

Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,

Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

 

Another Donne sonnet grows in significance with each passing year and loss that I have grieved…

 

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

 

What are we to say about someone whose words still nourish, inspire and console nearly 400 years after his death?

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From the Playground

Riley, my nephew’s senior Golden Retriever stood at the fence with tail wagging.  On the other side were young children on the playground of Villa Montessori.  Shouts of freedom, tromp of running feet and rhythmic squeaks of swing sets offered a consoling din to our conversation.   Lunch on the patio with a favorite sister-in-law marked another consoling ritual renewed.  Among memories recounted and updates feverishly made, Marilyn reminisced, “Remember how Mom used to love being out here when the kids were on the playground?  She loved their running, yelling and screaming!  She’d never tire of their energy and joy… reminded her of her own childhood, the kind she always wanted for kids.”

Nearly the age she was then, we affirmed her truth as gospel.  Perhaps a little wizened by age, it felt refreshing to cut through the flurry and noise of our lives – years – to cherish memories, reclaim life’s gift, reaffirm what matters.  Unknown to Marilyn I was distracted by another flash of memory.  A few weeks ago at a formal dinner preceding a panel discussion at a university, Rabbi David Wirtschafter grounded us with a quote by Reinhold Niebuhr: “Humor is, in fact, a prelude to faith; and laughter is the beginning of prayer.”   My overly primed intellect had resonated with the truth of Niebuhr’s insight and envied the rabbi’s brilliance.   Nussled with  sounds from the playground, recalling a mother’s joy, they were reconfirmed now by maternal wisdom.

With all this rippling through my day, I became intrigued with a story spotted during a routine iPad survey of favorite sites.  What really drew my attention were remarks by Jesuit Superior General Fr. Adolfo Nicolás marking the 100th anniversary of a Sophia University in Japan. Likening religious experience to a person who can appreciate the intricacies and variations of classical music, Nicolás explained that “religion is first of all very much more like this musical sense than a rational system of teachings and explanations.”  In this Jesuit’s teaching I heard the wisdom of Rabbi Wirtschafter and Pastor Niebuhr affirmed.  Even more, I heard music that charmed my mother’s ears. 

Here to escape the harshness of winter and soak up the warmth of Arizona family, I resonate with Nicolás’ lamenting how many people have lost our attentiveness to music because of the many other distractions of the modern technological age: “Just as this musical sense is being eroded and weakened by the noise, the pace, the self-images of the modern and postmodern world, so is religious sensitivity… [We] must first of all work toward helping people discover or rediscover this musical sense, this religious sensibility… This awareness and appreciation of dimensions of reality that are deeper than instrumental reason or materialist conceptions of life allow us.”  AMEN!

Being reminded of how Mom used to love hearing children at play – their running, yelling and screaming being music to her ears, renewed by their boundless energy and joy – I am again grateful for the way she taught me to pray.
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Joshua J. McElwee’s report on Fr. Adolfo Nicolás’ remarks may be found [here].
The quote by Reinhold Niebuhr is from Children of Light and the Children of Darkness.

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“Let Your God Love You”

Be silent.

Be still.

Alone.

Empty

Before your God

Say nothing.

Ask nothing.

Be silent.

Be still.

Let your God

Look upon you.

That is all.

God knows.

God understands.

God loves you

With an enormous love,

And only wants

To look upon you

With that love.

Quiet.

Still.

Be.

Let your God –

Love you.

– by Edwina Gateley
from In God’sWomb