Litany of Humility—A Tool on the Path to Peace and Joy

The bulk of today’s entry—the Litany of Humility-- is not something that I wrote, but is inspired by some recent happenings in my life.  First, I’ve embarked on a spiritual development program called “Just One Year” with the Humility of Mary sisters in Villa Maria, PA, in which a dozen female participants are getting together for three day weekends each quarter of one year.  The acronym for the program is JOY, and the Humility of Mary sisters exude it.  I’ve been thinking about the connection between humility and joy, and that when we release ourselves of attachments to honor, greater pay, vanity, and so on, we can more fully experience and express joy.  In the last several months, a period of great change at my office, I’ve struggled with wanting more at work—more input on decisions, more power to instruct others, and more rewards.  I had mentioned to my Tuesday night women’s prayer group that I wanted some kind of prayer for humility, and one of the women, Maria, suggested a Litany of Humility.  Ecatholic prefaces the prayer by saying that “His Eminence Cardinal Merry delVal was accustomed to recite daily after he celebrated the Holy Mass.” Praying for humility, I still find myself comparing how I stack up to others and getting frustrated about being fairly low on the totem pole. But my focus has changed.  I can be much more content when others have decision-making power that I do not.  I share the Litany of Humility with you so that you may find more contentment, peace, and joy.

O Jesus meek and humble of heart, hear me

From the desire of being esteemed…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being loved…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being extolled…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being honored…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being praised…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being preferred…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being consulted…Deliver Me Jesus

From the desire of being approved…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being humiliated…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being despised…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of suffering rebukes…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being calumniated…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being forgotten……Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being ridiculed…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being wronged…Deliver Me Jesus

From the fear of being suspected…Deliver me Jesus

That others may be loved more than I … Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That others may be esteemed more than I…Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That in the opinion of the world others may increase and I may decrease….Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it

That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.  Amen and Amen.

--ecatholic.com

Keepin' It Simple: I Love God, the Children Say

My 4-year-old Goddaughter, her 6-year-old sister, and their parents and baby brother and I were Mass companions today.  I’ve attended several of the girls birthday celebrations and have been included with the family in several celebrations, but I wanted to join them in a deeper way, in the greatest celebration of all—the Mass.  It was a while between this inspiration and suggesting it to the parents.  Perhaps I worried they’d reject my offer, or that I couldn’t really commit the time.  But the mom and dad, wonderful friends of mine, graciously allowed me to strengthen the Godmother relationship in this way.  They bought a few workbooks about the Mass, and today I joined their journey.  As I paged through the books with the girls, there were some tough questions.  Why are Jesus and God invisible, for example.  Why was Jesus all bloody on the cross?  I didn’t want to say too much, not knowing the extent of the parent’s previous lessons about torture, mortality and the hereafter.  I couldn’t help thinking of the time my friend’s daughter asked what a condom was and I rather directly told her how it was used.  That time, my friend lovingly reminded me that it was her role to do such teaching.  And although we’ve had many laughs over that conversation, it raised my awareness that some things are better left unsaid. Anyway, back to this morning.  The kids stuck with about half of a book I read them that detailed the happenings of the Mass.  They could only take so much being read to—they needed to take immediate action.  Both wrote cards to Jesus/God (Veggie Tales having previously explained they were the same) that said “I love God” or “I love you God.” And they signed their names. I loved the simplicity of their understanding of faith and church at this moment and what it calls for from them.  These kids are among the most joyful and affectionate whom I’ve ever met. They emanate love. So if they can know that the same actions they receive and give are connected with God, well I couldn’t have asked for better Sunday teachers.

Prayer for Healthy Living

I believe I will only be successful in my struggle with overeating and a tendency toward being sedentary with God's help.  I'm sharing a prayer I wrote to share with you what is on my heart, and with the idea that you might share it with others you know who need it.  

Dear Lord,

So many people, including me, are blessed with an abundance of access to food, the opportunity to eat just about whatever and whenever we want.  And I am blessed with the leisure of a job allowing me to sit in a comfortable chair for long hours in a climate-controlled environment.  I find it hard to be moderate in eating and diligent in exercise.  It is hard to take the long view of my behaviors, to eat less and exercise more.  And yet, I must take the long view because there are long-term costs of excess to my personal health, to my ability to serve others, to carry out the works of mercy toward your children.  I wish to be healthier also to conserve medical resources for those who need them most.  With all this in mind, I beg to be delivered from mindless eating and thoughtless grocery shopping.  Help me to deal with anxieties in ways other than consuming comfort foods.  Give me energy to take the time to plan meals and exercise carefully. I realize that exercise and fitness can bring competition and vanity, so as I move forward in my journey toward better health, I pray that I am supportive and loving of others at every stage of health, and ask that you keep my vanity in check. 

Jesus, from all the things that lead me to overeat and not exercise, and generally treat my body unlike the temple you have made it to be, please deliver me.

Amen.

Seek and Ye Shall Find, But it May Take a While

For about the last 15 years, I’ve made efforts to invite people into my life who’ll help nurture my spiritual journey.  I’ve yearned to have partners to discuss the faith, pray with me, and, often, just serve to remind me of the foundations of my faith (like simply “have faith” when I fall into worry and despair).  I’ve been inconsistent in my search, which is probably why results have been equally inconsistent.  Lately I’ve been more convicted and steadfast about the importance of tending to my spiritual life.  Part of the impetus was a dream I had last year.  In the dream, I frequently forgot my responsibility to care for a pet bird, often leaving it unfed.  And dream bird got pretty weak.  But anytime I did give it just a bit of nutrition, it grew in front of my eyes.  I felt strongly that the bird represented my spiritual self.  Thought oft neglected, the spirit in me has held on, and just a bit of attention reaps great rewards.  I think it takes a village to help grow one’s spiritual self.  So I was thrilled when Fr. Jonathan St. Andre, a Franciscan Friar friend living in Loretto, PA, told me about a group of women who meet in Pittsburgh to study and pray together.  On my first visit, one of the women had just returned from Rome, where she was present at the beatification of the late Pope John Paul II.  She joked about how she thought she annoyed a travel companion because she repeatedly stated “I can’t believe I’m here.”  At that moment, I knew just how she felt.  Though I wasn’t physically near the Vatican, the connection I was feeling with my Catholic sisters touched me deeply.  These beautiful, professional, smart women were expressing such a great desire to be with other women earnestly studying matters of faith, and holding each other in prayer for life events of celebration and trial, and ultimately be a little part of God’s kingdom.  Later, my contact with the group was out of town during the next meeting, and due to an email snafu, I didn’t hear from anyone else in the group.  All Sunday and Monday of Memorial Day weekend, I checked my e-mail hoping to hear which readings we would study.  I never got a message, but I showed up anyway, just in case.  And there were my new friends.  I often have had to use a serious measure of persistence and tenacity in my professional life, but I was reminded that in spiritual matters, I must seek repeatedly before I find.  I must demonstrate to God, to others, and to myself, that I really want the joy and peace and comfort that I find in my spiritual search.

Why You're Not a Mean Old Wizard at All! God Pulls Back Curtain on Charity Sisters

You know that scene in the Wizard of Oz where Toto reveals the wizard to be a mere human?  I had one of those experiences this weekend. In my version, I was Dorothy, and God was the prodding, nagging  pup that pulls back the curtain.  This all had to do with a distaste I’ve harbored for 23 years against the handful of nuns who taught me in high school.  I DID feel my education was superior and I developed a solid ethical and spiritual foundation.  But of the several sisters at Seton LaSalle, I was not fond.  One in particular steered me away from any interest I may have had in becoming a sister at the time.  That’s because she told a classroom once that obedience in the religious life meant toting around an umbrella EVEN if there was no chance of rain--IF the superior said to do so.  There was another sister with whom I had a mixed experience.  She encouraged me greatly once by copying and distributing a poem I’d written for all of the other students in her classes.  She considered my work to be a model.  The next year, though, I felt thoroughly humiliated me when she yelled at me and my group for poorly preparing a poetry analysis.  I was the leader of the group, but with no leadership skills at the time I didn’t know how to pull the group together.  What I quickly learned is that a leader is a lightning rod for a group, and sister’s disdain was directed at me.  When this sister and I parted ways as I prepared for graduation, the rift grew as she expressed anger that I wasn’t pursuing a college degree in writing—I remember she wouldn’t even look at me, she was so upset.  I would have loved to have told her all the reasons that I thought I couldn’t and brainstormed with her, but she never asked.  I didn’t get from the sisters what I so desperately needed—compassion.  Recently, I signed up for a weekend of service with a group of sisters, and only later realized they were from the same religious order as my high school teachers.  That weekend ended today.  And it was as if God sent me directly to a place in my heart that needed healing.  I laughed and traveled and prayed and worked and experienced an abundance of compassion with the Sisters of Charity of Seton Hill.  The central point of the weekend was working with the sisters in service—taking donations and pressing clothes at a St. Vincent DePaul thrift store, spending time at a deaf services agency, and painting the home of a single woman in what was once a coal “company town.”  The sisters’ joy and kindness simply overflowed as they reached out to the poor.  But they also reached out to the poor and broken places in me.  It was particularly evident this morning when I slept in, and Sister Barbara calmed my panic by saying, “that’s ok…take your time.”  The next thing I knew, Sister Mary Lou was at my door to bring by a book and she joined me in making my bed, laughingly showing me how to make a “square corner” with the sheets and blankets as they are tucked into the mattress.  She learned this years ago as a new sister.  This morning during Mass, as I looked at some of the aged older sisters sitting in their wheelchairs with mouths seemingly stuck agape, I thought of the fearful Wizard of Oz and tears welled fell down my face as I thought, they were, and are, only humans, doing the best they could at the time.  And so am I.  

Does This Outfit Go With My Vocation?

The main reason I started this blog is because I’m on a very specific Catholic journey—the discernment of joining a women’s religious community.   Yes, becoming a nun or a sister.  And even though I’m 40 years old and it’s something I’ve considered for a long time, I’ve definitely got some things to work through.  One issue I’ll call the fashion exclusion clause.  You’ve probably noticed that many nuns wear monochromatic habits.  It has to do in part with a vow of poverty.  Then there are those who, in these post-Vatican II days, often are “cleverly disguised” (as the actress in a recent stage performance of Late Night Catechism put it) “as your aunt.”  The sisters in the “aunt” group who I know wear a lot of long polyester skirts in floral prints and pastels, and sensible shoes—something like an orthopedic tennis shoe, but often black or taupe.  The closest thing I have to a floral print is a bright white sundress with spaghetti straps and hot pink flowers.  One time when I wore it, a young woman literally squealed and said, “Do you feel like the queen of the world when you wear that?”  Well, yes.  I have coveted well-made red Italian stilettos in my time in shop windows of Paris and New York City, even if I’ve only purchased a few pairs of heels over the years.  I own a small rainbow of nail polishes. Last year I dyed my hair fuchsia.  You see my dilemma. I’m not a super serious fashionista.  I definitely have a lot of plain Jane long skirts in my closet and love my dark cozy boots in the winter.  But I sometimes wonder how I’d fit in to a community of plainclothes women.  It’s probably just one of those things I’ll have to let God work on--that same God who created all the fantastic colors that exist and who gave me the predilection for picking them off the rack.

Kate's Blog Post Kicks My Blog's Butt: Check Out Her Mother's Day Lullaby

I'm a professional writer/editor, so maybe it's no surprise that a day after I started blogging, I've already started looking with a competitive eye at other similar blogs.  Still, it's embarrassing, as a Christian, to admit the degree to which I try to best others.  Is it still envy if I write how awesome someone else's blog is? My church acquaintance, Kate, has an amazing personal story about she and her daughters that she courageously and lovingly shares here: http://sweetridgesisters.wordpress.com/2011/05/07/mothers-day-lullaby/ And yes, that is a real and almost as amazing photo of Kate's wedding party mounting a silo.

One of the Best Kept Secrets of the Catholic World? Retreat Centers!

You don't have to be a priest or nun to attend a retreat--you don't even have to be Catholic.  I'm a lay person and I've become a kind of retreat groupie in recent years.  I've taken many retreats, in Pennsylvania, upstate New York, and West Virginia, and want to urge you to give it a try.  It's an affordable and nourishing way to spend time off.

Every one of my retreats has offered mini-miracles.  One of the most recent took place at St. Emma's Benedictine Monastery in Greensburg, PA.  Before my retreat, I had been thinking a lot about career and life direction and had told friends that I might be interested in a life coach.  I encountered a woman standing by a window at the retreat center.  When we spoke, she right away told me she was a coach.  It also turned out that she lived in my neighborhood and attended my parish.  We've quickly developed a delightful friendship and recently I assisted her in offering a professional retreat at the guesthouse where we met.  I've now visited St. Emmas in fall, winter, and spring.  My favorite was probably fall, because Mother Mary Ann was so kind to let me take home to my coworkers the unsprayed apples and pears from the orchard among the Stations of the Cross on the grounds. Other retreat centers I would recommend include: the beautiful nature-surrounded Paul VI Pastoral Center in Wheeling, W.Va  (I love their tagline: Come to the Mountain...a place for ordinary people seeking simple access to God.) One of the brothers selects and performs really lovely music for the religious services.  The Abbey of the Genesee in New York state is also an amazing natural spot, located adjacent to a sunflower farm.  The psalms sung by the brothers there several times a day will resonate in your heart for a long time after leaving (their famous bread will, too).

Retreat centers vary, but you will generally be sleeping alone in a simple little room.  The experience is not exceptionally social in the typical manner of extended small talk, nor is it exceptionally luxurious.   Rules at also vary according to the particular center and program, but generally they boil down to: no mobile phones, computers, and the like.  Honoring these rules, and your deep human need to unplug, will allow you to find the deep peace and sense of connection we all deserve and seek.