FRIDAY FAVORITES FOR PRAYER AND WRITING

Happy Friday, friends! Prasanta Verma and I hope you enjoy this week’s round-up of favorite links. You’ll find reflections on life during the pandemic and some articles/resources about important spiritual practices – daily prayer, spiritual mentoring, and letter writing. Enjoy, and be blessed.

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Daily Prayers for Uncertain Times via Richella Parham (a prayer guide for you to download)

Breaking via Nichole Woo (when things break all over again)

Pandemic Journal: An Entry on Cutting Your Son’s Hair (and the Lilac Bush) via Laura Boggess (gifts during this pandemic season)

We Must Cure the Global Pandemic of Loneliness via Andrew Vanderput  (the pandemic helps us realize anew that we need our neighbors and they need us)

Help Wanted: Imperfect Mentors Only via Michelle Van Loon (wisdom about the practice of spiritual mentoring)

Letter Writing Isn’t a Lost Art in Egypt. It’s an Ancient Ministry via Phoebe Farag Mikhail and Bishoy Lamie Mikhai (letters re a physical connection in times of discouragement, loneliness, and grief)

 

 

 

Oneing with Julian of Norwich

The fourteenth-century mystic Julian of Norwich has taught me many things about hope, faith, and divine love. Recently she’s also taught me the value of words. I was reading Julian’s work, the Revelations of Divine Love, when I came across this sentence: “Prayer ones the soul to God.” This passage awakened my inner grammar queen. The last time I checked, “ones” wasn’t a verb.

Evidently Julian didn’t read the same grammar books that I did. Examples of oneing infuse her work, such as:

In our making God knit us and oned us to himself . . .

And the conclusion of this idea:

By the virtue of the same precious oneing, we love our Maker and seek God . . .

Julian’s oneing would not have sounded as jarring to her audience as it does to us. “To one” was a Middle English word meaning to unite or to join. But words change. If used today, oneing would constitute an egregious case of verbing — the act of turning a noun into a verb. You’ve probably seen many examples of this. Adulting is hard. Or, It’s time to introvert!

I think this is why some translators of Julian’s work don’t use her original wording: they’re concerned that she’s breaking today’s grammar rules. These translators often change the word “oned” to “united.” So, Julian’s phrase “prayer ones the soul to God” becomes “prayer unites the soul to God.”

JulianBut I much prefer Julian’s strange little verb. How much lovelier oneing is than uniting! The unfamiliarity of this word makes me pause, reread, and really grapple with its meaning. Uniting implies a joining of forces, but oneing suggests a knitting together that can never be undone, a union so seamless that you can no longer distinguish its individual parts.

Oneing implies more than intimacy. In the works of Julian of Norwich and other medieval mystics, it describes union with God himself. It encapsulates the mystery of our creation and our very being. Oneing is divine, in every sense of the word.

Not all examples of nouns-cum-verbs are as poetic as oneing. But Julian’s treatise has made me look at words differently, especially the trend of verbing. I haven’t always appreciated this trend. But thanks to Julian, I’m looking at it with new eyes. I’m ready to be surprised and disrupted, ready to see something new and possibly divine in the way we use words and break the rules. I’ve been bejulianed.

Perhaps we could all stand to be bejulianed. In an age of increasing verbiage and decreasing attention spans, we need language that disrupts; we need words that teach us about ourselves and the world instead of words that fly under our radar. In fact, it’s a thrill to discover that the English language can still trip us up. So when you see a strange word, perhaps even an example of verbing, pause, reread, think, and imagine. Above all, ask yourself this question: have I been oned with the divine today?

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A version of this post originally appeared in the journal Upwrite.

WEEKLY PRAYER: JULIAN OF NORWICH

The English mystic Julian of Norwich (1342 – c. 1416) is remembered on May 13 (in the Catholic Church — and on May 8 in the Anglican, Episcopalian, and Lutheran churches).

This week, let’s pray one of her beautiful prayers:

 

 

Julian of Norwich

 

In you, Father all-mighty, we have our preservation and our bliss.
In you, Christ, we have our restoring and our saving.
You are our mother, brother, and Savior.
In you, our Lord the Holy Spirit, is marvelous and plenteous grace.
You are our clothing; for love you wrap us and embrace us.
You are our maker, our lover, our keeper.
Teach us to believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well,
and all manner of things shall be well. Amen.

 

Source

WEEKLY PRAYER: ST. ANSELM

Today’s prayer comes from St. Anselm of Canterbury (1033/4 – 1109). Let’s pray with him for all who are afflicted and distressed.

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We bring before Thee, O Lord, the troubles and perils of people and nations, the sighing of prisoners and captives, the sorrows of the bereaved, the necessities of strangers, the helplessness of the weak, the despondency of the weary, the failing powers of the aged.

O Lord, draw near to each; for the sake of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Source

WEEKLY PRAYER: CATHERINE OF SIENA

Wednesday, April 29, is the Feast Day of St. Catherine of Siena, a Dominican laywoman, mystic, mentor of popes, and church reformer. Her prayers and spiritual writings continue to inspire us today.

For our prayers this week, I’m featuring two recent videos in my series, “The Prayers of St. Catherine of Siena.” Each is a burst of encouragement and hope that we need during this time.

In the following prayer, St. Catherine asks God for help in responding to our neighbors with love and generosity–perfect for this time of pandemic:

 

 

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And in our second prayer, Catherine reflects on how God has given us his own nature, which is fire:

 


I hope these prayers bless you this week!

 

WEEKLY PRAYER: ST. ANSELM

Today is the Feast Day of St. Anselm of Canterbury, (1033 – 1109), a Benedictine monk, abbot, philosopher, and theologian. We are praying one of his meditations:

Lord, because you have made me, I owe you the whole of my love; because you have redeemed me, I owe you the whole of myself; because you have promised so much, I owe you my whole being. Moreover, I owe you as much more love than myself as you are greater than I, for whom you gave yourself and to whom you promised yourself. I pray you, Lord, make me taste by love what I taste by knowledge; let me know by love what I know by understanding. I owe you more than my whole self, but I have no more, and by myself I cannot render the whole of it to you. Draw me to you, Lord, in the fullness of your love. I am wholly yours by creation; make me all yours, too, in love.

 

Source

WEEKLY PRAYER: FREDERICK BUECHNER

A Resurrection prayer from Frederick Buechner:

O Thou who didst rise again,

Thou Holy Spirit of Christ, arise and live within us now, that we may be thy body, that we may be thy feet to walk into the world’s pain, thy hands to heal, thy heart to break, if need must be, for the love of the world.

Thou risen Christ, make Christs of us all. Amen.

Source

 

 

 

FRIDAY FAVORITES FOR PRAYER AND WRITING

Welcome to Friday Favorites! This week, Prasanta Verma and I are featuring five readings for Good Friday. May God bless you as you mark this day and journey to the resurrection.

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Good Friday: the first 12 Stations of the Cross via Malcolm Guite (a guided experience of the stations)

When It’s Holy Week and You Don’t Feel Holy via Leslie Leyland Fields (why it’s going to be enough, no matter how you feel)

Finding Sacred Space in the Upper Room via Catherine McNeil (how do we do Holy Week in a locked room?)

Lamentation: The Weight of Grief via Shemaiah Gonzalez (experiencing the grief of Good Friday through a startling work of art)

Beneath Thy Cross via Christina Rossetti (a poem for Good Friday)

Cloister; A Poem via Ana Lisa de Jong (for our times)

 

 

Talking to God with Ignatius of Loyola

In 1548, Ignatius of Loyola published one of the most popular devotional books in Christian history – the Spiritual Exercises. This book is a compilation of meditations, prayers, and other practices. It is intended for use of a spiritual director, who is to guide individuals through the exercises.

I haven’t yet had the opportunity to do the Exercises with a spiritual director. Reading through them, however, I was struck by a couple things. One is Ignatius’s use of imaginative prayer, a form of contemplation that places us at the scene of a biblical story, inviting us to interact and converse with the characters. This is a very different type of contemplation than centering prayer, in which the mind is quiet and still, emptied of everything except a prayer word.

I was also intrigued by the “colloquy,” which is a conversation with God. Ignatius says that a colloquy is made “in the way one friend speaks to another . . . now begging a favor, now accusing oneself of some misdeed, now telling one’s concerns and asking counsel about them.” It usually occurs at the end of the exercise.

In the first Spiritual Exercise, which focuses on original sin, Ignatius suggests that we meditate on the cross of Christ. Then he suggests this colloquy, or conversation, with Christ:

Imagine Christ our Lord suspended on the cross before you, and converse with him in a colloquy: How is it that he, although he is the Creator, has come to make himself a human being? How is it that he has passed from eternal life to death here in time, and to die in this way for my sins?

This colloquy could be an interesting exercise for Holy Week. I realize that I am taking it out of context, but I wonder if it could function as a form of visio divina, in which we prayerfully meditate on a scene of the Crucifixion. Ignatius probably means for us imagine this scene in our mind’s eye, but I’m pairing it here with a painting of the Crucifixion (1627) by Francisco de Zurbarán, a Spanish artist who lived a bit later than Ignatius.

Zurbarán, Crucifixion

In this painting, Zurbarán puts the Crucifixion before our eyes with no distractions. There are no other figures in the painting and no background. We become the figures standing before the cross.

As you look at this painting, think of what you might say to Jesus this Holy Week. In the Spiritual Exercises, Ignatius suggests three ways we can talk to God. First, as quoted above, he says that we begin by marveling at Christ’s work on the cross: How is it that he, although he is the Creator, has come to make himself a human being? How is it that he has passed from eternal life to death here in time, and to die in this way for my sins?

Ignatius also suggests that we examine ourselves. He says:

In a similar way, reflect on yourself and ask: What have I done for Christ? What am I doing for Christ? What ought I to do for Christ?

Finally, Ignatius suggests simply talking to God. As you gaze on Christ, “speak out whatever comes to your mind.”

Marveling, examining, conversing: three rich ways to prayerfully engage with God this Holy Week.

So . . . what is on your heart? What would you say to Jesus? You can be sure that he is listening to you.

 

 

A PRAYER FOR HOLY WEEK

A prayer for Holy Week by Origen (c. 185–254), early Christian theologian and philosopher:

 

Jesus, my feet are dirty. Come even as a slave to me, pour water into your bowl, come and wash my feet. In asking such a thing I know I am overbold, but I dread what was threatened when you said to me, “If I do not wash your feet I have no fellowship with you.” Wash my feet then, because I long for your companionship.