Words of ripened honey

Over the last several months, associated with the significant other, a Holy Hour imprints finely upon where I stand firmly at this time. Conducted early Saturday morning, post 6:30 AM Mass at St Dominic in Shaker Heights, a silent maturity and sophistication in the endeavor soothes, creating comfortable space for reflective contemplative communal prayer. The Holy Hour is organized, constructed with a fluid format, calling forth readers in opening, closing and upon the quarter hours. I will post several readings. God’s revealing advances a distancing from a lunatic fringe element to the pursuit of faith, hope, and charity. Lovingly in regard, proper in discernment, in silence, the aspect of individuals devoting their lives to the pursuit of Catholicism, while leading lives out of balance—singular, devoid of the inability to maintain mature intimate relationships, bizarre in behavior and circumstance, strange in appearance, weird in encounter, no longer abides truthfully. It becomes strikingly apparent that many consumed within brokenness, some suffering severe psychological dispositions, must be passed beyond, attachment no longer a possibility. Within love, caring, and respect, God places the distance. I am complimented to be seated amidst the St Dominic Holy Hour. Others come calling from the past. Barb from Arise is sending out emails for an Arise rejuvenation to start up in the fall. She is requesting I become more actively involved, starting tomorrow by standing at the sign-up booth at St Clare after 8:00 AM Mass. I am moved and honored, recognizing all distance is not proper. Father Estabrook resides and I have not spoken to him for some time, still possessing a book he lent. God is good and all giving.

St Dominic Holy Hour reflections on the feast day of St Bernard of Clairvaux, the saint with the melliferous tongue.

Mary’s deep faith is clearly expressed in her ability to trust in her Divine Son, even when it seems He is indifferent to the situation. She models the kind of faith we need in our own lives, especially we when we wonder how God is present in the difficulties we face. Like Mary, we are called to go beyond a belief simply in the physical presence of Jesus in the Eucharist; we are invited to believe in Jesus’ loving presence in each of us, and the church, and our world, in our life situations right now.

When Jesus pours himself out for the love of us met each Eucharistic Celebration, he asks us, do this in remembrance of Me. Jesus invites us to receive the gift of life He shares with us; He also invites us, in turn, to share that same life with others. And this is perhaps the deepest act of faith: to discover how we are called to be the loving presence of Jesus for others.

To give fully of ourselves means self-forgetfulness and self-sacrifice, but only out of love. We can take some time now to reflect on how Jesus might be asking us to participate more fully in the life-giving mystery of His suffering, death, and resurrection.

Lord, I am an earthenware vessel
In which you have placed a treasure.
Help me to reveal your extraordinary power.
When I feel afflicted, free me from constraints.
When I am perplexed, lead me beyond despair.
When I feel persecuted, do not forsake me.
When I am struck down, renew Your life in me.
As I carry within myself the death of Jesus,
May the life of Jesus, too, be revealed in me.
Help me to realize that death at work in me
Means life to those for whom I offer myself.
Do not let me lose heart, but grant me abundant grace,
So that my thanksgiving may overflow to the glory of God.
We ask this through Our Lord Jesus Christ,
Your son, who lives and reigns with You,
And the Holy Spirit.
One God.
AMEN

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