Crazy Stable

Most nights, I don't so much fall asleep as pass out. But if I had a few moments of consciousness I'd like to follow the advice of Russian Orthodox saint, Theophan the Recluse*: "It is the essence of evening prayer to thank God for the day and everything that happened, both pleasant and unpleasant; to ask forgiveness for all wrongs committed, promising to improve during the next day; and to pray that God preserve you during sleep. Express all this to God from your mind and from your whole heart." Here is an Eastern Orthodox night prayer that does the job:

O Lord our God, however I have sinned this day in word, deed or thought, forgive me, for Thou art gracious and lovest mankind.

Grant me peaceful and undisturbed sleep. Send me Thy guardian angel to shield me and protect me from every evil;

for Thou art the Guardian of our souls and bodies, and unto Thee we ascribe glory, to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.

* St. Theophan the Recluse (1815-1894) was a holy monk and bishop and a prolific spiritual writer. This is a picture of him...

...but I confess I am reminded of Mel Brooks' The Twelve Chairs and Dom Deluise's rascally Father Fyodor in that under-appreciated gem.

For today's Lenten prayer, I have scanned a yellowed and dog-eared card found in my dad's old Catholic missal (the prayer book with the Latin and English words of the Mass). I love the "Our Father," but this one is the "My Father." As in, my father lived this prayer. He also embodied its earnest, fervent midcentury style, being a Catholic convert from the era of Fulton J. Sheen's Life is Worth Living broadcasts. The prayer is called "Learning Christ":

My dad's life was indeed "strong in its purpose of sanctity." He lived his faith in every encounter, as a father, neighbor, insurance salesman, passing motorist...but perhaps most of all as husband. The man who saved this prayer card was married (after a 15-year courtship) to a beautiful but troubled woman who lived her life in the grip of fear, insecurity, anger and cynicism. I believe I am the offspring of the world's greatest optimist and its darkest pessimist. And in all the years of their marriage, my father never gave up his patient campaign to ease my mother's embattled heart. Turn the card over, and his inscription (Q for Quentin, M for Mathilde) reveals that he gave it to her four years before they finally married, while he was still a military policeman guarding FDR during World War II.

My dad and me"Learning Christ" might sound a bit sanctimonious or impossibly pious to our post-modern ears. After all, therapy and self-fulfillment are our touchstones now, not "putting ourselves aside." But you will have to take my word for it that the man who lived this prayer was the happiest man I've ever known, and the freest. He lived each day in joy and died at peace, beloved by all who knew him. Through him, I "learned Christ" a little more every day. Corny as it sounds, I am quite convinced he is a saint. If you're in the market for an intercessor, Richard Quentin Becker would, I'm sure, be happy to hear from you.

"I don't do mornings," as the saying goes, so it is fitting that I would get around to posting a "Daily Offering," or morning prayer, at nearly noon. The tradition of starting one's day by consecrating it to God is very old. This prayer was a familiar one a few generations ago, and so was devotion to the "immaculate heart" of Mary. (More on that below.) I love how this prayer pulls you out of your sluggish, queasy, self-absorbed misery (okay, speaking for myself here), and thrusts you into robust fellowship with every Catholic in the world, the guys in Rome, the souls in God-knows-where...suddenly, it's about more than just stumbling out of the house on time.

Daily Offering to the Immaculate Heart of Mary

O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer you my prayers, works, joys, and suffering of this day in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world. I offer them for all the intentions of Your Sacred Heart: the salvation of souls, reparation for sins, the reunion of all Christians; I offer them for the intentions of our Bishops and of all Apostles of Prayer and in particular for those recommended by our Holy Father this month.  Amen.

Devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary flourished relatively late in the Church's history, fueled by various mystics who reported seeing visions of alarming cardiological revelation. Often their two hearts are revered together, Christ's heart surrounded with a crown of thorns and Mary's pierced by seven swords. And we Catholics wonder why we scare people? I grew up around this sort of holy card imagery, with its cheerful mix of gruesome symbolism and dainty insipidity. (The only thing that ever bothered me was the anatomical incorrectness--why a valentine pinned to the middle of the chest?)

We don't lay these heavy trips on the kiddies any more, man. Now it's all rainbows and butterflies. But the notion of a heart on fire, visible for all the world to see, seems to grow in resonance as I get older. Today, those mystic nuns would probably be getting Risperdal if they reported seeing this stuff, but the truth of a mother's heart being pierced for her child just gets truer as your kids get older. And the notion that a path to God's mercy could be found through such a heart--pure, vulnerable--is sweet and intuitive. There are worse ways to start the morning.

Bonus Immaculate Heart

It's not easy to find depictions of the Immaculate Heart of Mary that don't conform to the looky-here iconography of the holy cards. But the Blessed Mother in this 1901 painting by Charles Bosseron Chambers is a darling. (He also painted Ziegfield girls.) The passionate heart is just suggested. But it's still in the wrong place. But I quibble.

 St. Thomas Aquinas by Fra AngelicoThe Crazy Stable Lenten Prayer-a-Day Edition continues! Just in time for Mass tomorrow, my favorite prayer before receiving the Eucharist. It's by St. Thomas Aquinas, whose mighty theological writings utterly baffled me the few times I tried to read excerpts of them. (That's what I get for not going to a Catholic college.) But the scholar called a "dumb ox" (because he was quiet, portly and obstinate) also created some moving and beautiful prayers.

I know only the last verse by heart. I have been known to read this entire prayer to a roomful of insolent, squirming CCD students who were clearly not sufficiently impressed by their impending First Holy Communion. (Their pitiful textbooks, which would illustrate the chapter on the Eucharist--"a meal celebration"--with photos of birthday parties replete with balloons and cake, didn't help matters.) I would read it with wildly dramatic cadence (that's what I get for taking acting at NYU instead of theology at a Catholic college), until the little rugrats would simmer down and look appropriately awestruck. It does the job at any age.

Prayer of St. Thomas Aquinas Before Communion

Almighty and ever-living God, I approach the sacrament of Thy only-begotten Son,  Our Lord Jesus Christ.

I come sick to the doctor of life, unclean to the fountain of mercy,

Blind to the radiance of eternal light, and poor and needy

To the Lord of heaven and earth.

 

Lord, in Thy great generosity, heal my sickness,

Wash away my defilement, enlighten my blindness,

Enrich my poverty, and clothe my nakedness.

May I receive the bread of angels, the King of kings and Lord of lords,

With humble reverence, with the purity and faith,

The repentance and love, and the determined purpose

That will help bring me to salvation.

 

May I receive the sacrament of the Lord’s body and blood,

In its reality and power. Gracious God, may I receive

The body of Thy only-begotten Son, Our Lord Jesus Christ,

Born from the womb of the Virgin Mary, and so be received

Into His mystical body, and numbered among His members.

 

Loving Father, as on my earthly pilgrimage

I now receive Thy beloved Son under the veil of a sacrament,

May I one day see Him face to face in glory,

Who lives and reigns with Thee in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

One God, forever and ever.   Amen.

Just, wow. I was going to post my absolutely favorite, butt-kickingest anti-depression prayer right up front in Lent...and I discover it is actually a Lenten prayer! Not for Roman Catholics, but for our Eastern Orthodox brethren. Folks, I give you:

The Prayer of St. Ephrem the Syrian

O Lord and Master of my life, keep from me the spirit of indifference and discouragement, lust of power and idle chatter. [kneel, bow, or prostration]

Instead, grant to me, Your servant, the spirit of wholeness of being, humble-mindedness, patience and love. [kneel, bow, etc.]

O Lord and King, grant me the grace to be aware of my sins and not to judge my brother; for You are blessed now and ever and forever. Amen. [kneel, bow, etc.]

St. Ephrem the Syrian is a Doctor of the Church who lived in present-day Turkey from about 306 to 370 AD. He wrote in the Syriac language and was a prolific author of hymns, many composed to combat the rampant heresies of his day; they would be sung by all-female choirs playing lyres, which sounds a lot more interesting than CCD class.

The prayer above, however, was composed by his later admirers, who admired him so much that they would make stuff up and sign it "Ephrem the Syrian," apparently. (Even then, imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.) What makes this prayer kick butt, of course, are the moves prescribed within. Apparently some Eastern believers bow from the waist and others actually do the whole flat-on-the-floor thing. I would tell you what I do, but then I'd have to kill you. (Hint: I have osteoarthritis of the knee, so it's nothing worthy of The DaVinci Code.) However, any kind of moves you can do accomplish a twofold purpose:

1. You wake up and focus.

2. You feel like an idiot.

3. Oh, yes, three is: Because of (2), you "pray in your room in secret" just like Jesus ordered. Which is kind of cool.

Copyright by Allie Brosh, "Hyperbole and a Half"For those of us who suffer from depression, the prayer contains a powerful appeal to avoid "acedia," the dreaded monastic spiritual affliction of just not giving a crap about anything (certainly not about religious practice). This concept is a rich and tricky one, since acedia mutated into the better-known deadly sin of sloth, and it's hard enough dealing with the biochemical burden of depression without mixing it up with a deadly sin. The spiritual author Kathleen Norris explores this conundrum at rambling but sometimes illuminating length in her book Acedia & Me: A Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life.

The rubrics (physical positions) prescribed in the prayer seem designed with depression sufferers in mind. Sometimes, you just need to get moving. (The wise prankster St. Philip Neri once had a melancholic young man approach him for spiritual direction; instead, Philip lit out for the streets of Rome, saying, "Run with me!" to the astonished young man. A personal trainer for the soul!)

If you're not ready for bowing or prostration, crank this up; it's a Little Richard rarity. I don't know if St. Ephrem would have approved, but I suspect St. Philip would've loved it.