Day 22 – Blindness
Day 23 – Lagtime
Day 24 – Weakness
Day 25 – Death
Day 26 – Our Choices
Day 27 – Truth
Day 28 – The Way to True Unity
Michael Dubruiel's first blog.
The letter to the Hebrews draws a strong connection
between the cross and prayer. Because every moment of our
earthly existence is threatened by death, and we know neither the
day nor the hour when that existence will come to an end, we,
too, need to cry out to the God who can save us. Like Moses, we
need the help of our fellow Christians to hold up our arms when
they grow tired. We, too, need the help of the Holy Spirit to
make up for what is lacking in our prayer.
The Gospels show that the gaze of Mary varied depending upon the circumstances of life. So it will be with us. Each time we pick up the holy beads to recite the Rosary, our gaze at the mystery of Christ will differ depending on where we find ourselves at that moment.
Thereafter Mary’s gaze, ever filled with adoration and wonder, would never leave him. At times it would be a questioning look, as in the episode of the finding in the Temple: “Son, why have you treated us so?” (Lk 2:48); it would always be a penetrating gaze, one capable of deeply understanding Jesus, even to the point of perceiving his hidden feelings and anticipating his decisions, as at Cana (cf. Jn 2:5). At other times it would be a look of sorrow, especially beneath the Cross, where her vision would still be that of mother giving birth, for Mary not only shared the passion and death of her Son, she also received the new son given to her in the beloved disciple (cf. Jn 19:26-27). On the morning of Easter hers would be a gaze radiant with the joy of the Resurrection, and finally, on the day of Pentecost, a gaze afire with the outpouring of the Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) [Rosarium Virginis Mariae, no. 10].
As we pray the Rosary, then, we join with Mary in contemplating Christ. With her, we remember Christ, we proclaim Him, we learn from Him, and, most importantly, as we raise our voices in prayer and our hearts in contemplation of the holy mysteries, this “compendium of the Gospel” itself, we are conformed to Him.
The Gospels show that the gaze of Mary varied depending upon the circumstances of life. So it will be with us. Each time we pick up the holy beads to recite the Rosary, our gaze at the mystery of Christ will differ depending on where we find ourselves at that moment.
Thereafter Mary’s gaze, ever filled with adoration and wonder, would never leave him. At times it would be a questioning look, as in the episode of the finding in the Temple: “Son, why have you treated us so?” (Lk 2:48); it would always be a penetrating gaze, one capable of deeply understanding Jesus, even to the point of perceiving his hidden feelings and anticipating his decisions, as at Cana (cf. Jn 2:5). At other times it would be a look of sorrow, especially beneath the Cross, where her vision would still be that of mother giving birth, for Mary not only shared the passion and death of her Son, she also received the new son given to her in the beloved disciple (cf. Jn 19:26-27). On the morning of Easter hers would be a gaze radiant with the joy of the Resurrection, and finally, on the day of Pentecost, a gaze afire with the outpouring of the Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) [Rosarium Virginis Mariae, no. 10].
As we pray the Rosary, then, we join with Mary in contemplating Christ. With her, we remember Christ, we proclaim Him, we learn from Him, and, most importantly, as we raise our voices in prayer and our hearts in contemplation of the holy mysteries, this “compendium of the Gospel” itself, we are conformed to Him.
The encounter with Jesus that takes place in every celebration of the Eucharist calls us to conversion. The more we recognize Jesus in the opening of the Scriptures and the Breaking of the Bread the more this becomes apparent. When Jesus first encountered Peter fishing in the Sea of Galilee the Lord gave Peter some fishing advice. Peter humored the Nazarene and found that the catch of fish was beyond anything that he had ever experienced before. This made him realize that Jesus was unlike anyone that he had ever encountered. So what did Peter do? He made a two-fold confession: "Depart from me for I am a sinful man, O Lord," (Luke 5:8). In recognizing the divinity of Jesus, he also was made aware of his own sinfulness. What did Jesus do? He told him, "Do not be afraid; henceforth you will be catching men," (Luke 5:10). Then Peter followed the Lord.
The journey that Peter set out on that day is similar to the journey that each of us takes after our Baptism and like Peter we may sin again whenever we fail to remember who God is and who we are. Peter was sure that he would be willing to die for Christ even when Jesus told him that he would end up denying him not once but three times. The Lord was right, Peter was wrong. We too fall, time and again after numerous resolutions that we will never sin again. In a matter of seconds we are passing judgment on someone or even worst--once again falling into sin.
The two-fold confession that we make at every Eucharist can change our lives if we speak these words with heartfelt conviction. When we confess our belief in God, we are saying that it is God whom we trust, not our sins and failings, not what others think about us but God alone.
Steps to Take as You Follow Christ
Ask—Do I believe in God’s providential care?
Seek—Cry out to God to save you. Realize what it means to say
that God is your Savior. Frequently call to mind all that you need
to be saved from and have recourse to God who alone can save
you.
Knock—Meditate on Romans 13:12–14. Paul uses the image of
armor that we wear, either of darkness or light. Much of what he
terms the deeds of darkness are acts that typically happen at
nightfall or in the secret of one’s heart—they are acts that take
place when we hide them from God and others. Reflect on how
putting on armor of light and bringing all of your cares before
God will change the way you see them.
Transform Your Life—Believe and trust in Jesus at all times. Do
not allow the enemy to have a foothold into your life. Make
“Hosanna, save us, Lord” the prayer that is constantly on your
lips.
Week
The Gospels show that the gaze of Mary varied depending upon the circumstances of life. So it will be with us. Each time we pick up the holy beads to recite the Rosary, our gaze at the mystery of Christ will differ depending on where we find ourselves at that moment.
Thereafter Mary’s gaze, ever filled with adoration and wonder, would never leave him. At times it would be a questioning look, as in the episode of the finding in the Temple: “Son, why have you treated us so?” (Lk 2:48); it would always be a penetrating gaze, one capable of deeply understanding Jesus, even to the point of perceiving his hidden feelings and anticipating his decisions, as at Cana (cf. Jn 2:5). At other times it would be a look of sorrow, especially beneath the Cross, where her vision would still be that of mother giving birth, for Mary not only shared the passion and death of her Son, she also received the new son given to her in the beloved disciple (cf. Jn 19:26-27). On the morning of Easter hers would be a gaze radiant with the joy of the Resurrection, and finally, on the day of Pentecost, a gaze afire with the outpouring of the Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) [Rosarium Virginis Mariae, no. 10].
As we pray the Rosary, then, we join with Mary in contemplating Christ. With her, we remember Christ, we proclaim Him, we learn from Him, and, most importantly, as we raise our voices in prayer and our hearts in contemplation of the holy mysteries, this “compendium of the Gospel” itself, we are conformed to Him.
The first step to ridding ourselves of disordered attachments
is to realize what those attachments might be. Whenever we have
a tendency to rationalize that something is “holy,” “untouchable,”
or “indispensable”—it is a pretty good indication that a disordered
attachment is at the root. Only God is our holy and
untouchable source of life. Giving anything else such a high priority
is perpetuating a lie.