Friday evening

Friday proves a celebratory blessing in prayer, sharing vespers and Adoration with the Benedictines at St Andrew’s Abbey.  It is a powerful experience; silence intense, voicing of Psalms as a choir, concluding communal activity with the singing of ‘Salve Regina’—remembrance of prayerful evenings with the Brothers Minor of Fort Wayne.  It proves simple in manliness, the sharing of faith with brothers, men humble before the Eucharist.  I have extended an invitation to the Man of Prayer to join me on Friday evenings.  Authentically, he is steeped so deeply in prayer, the invitation arises purely.  Though treading upon the lunatic fringe, his dedication to prayer, his sacrifice and ability to remain hidden, able to hold his tongue amongst those keen in perception and practice, I would be honored to be accompanied by the Man of Prayer, to share in profound concealed prayer and Adoration.  I received a call from John the Hermit the past week, placing my thoughts upon him.  Though undergoing the rigors of a serious prayer life, I could not see him accompanying.  I witnessed him in Massachusetts amongst the Maronite monks of Adoration.  He was unable to withhold the immature tendency to talk too much, constantly isolating himself with monks and pouring himself out upon them.  I am blessed God has provided the strength and furthering to grasp the essential nature of holding one’s tongue in order to advance–wise virgins refusing to share their wine with the foolish.  Wisdom and understanding is beheld, exercised, and shielded within a developed prayer life through the consistency of silence, the tendency toward silence opposed to expression.  The significant other and I were sharing a fondness for lyrics of Robert Plant, singer of the classic rock band Led Zeppelin, ‘living reflection of a dream’.  Within the ‘Rain Song’ lines emerge relevant: ‘Speak to me only with your eyes….Ain’t so hard to recognize – These things are clear to all from time to time.’  A final thought.  Mass at Our Lady of Peace in Shaker Heights lifted with inspiration.  The priest apologized at the end of Mass for forgetting to offer prayers to a dear longtime friend, a priest who passed away yesterday.  He voiced the passing of Father Wilfred Smith, loosening knots within my heart.  I visited with the priest over the last year at the Jennings Center, getting to know him fairly well.  As his mental competency and health declined, he demanded a ceasing of visitors.  He desired to be left alone as he approached death.  I felt the tenderness of God when the day after his passing the news was offered so simply.  I spoke to the priest after Mass, sharing with him my experience, learning from the priest father possessed a sister who is a cloistered nun, and a nephew who is priest.  News I was unaware of.  The day was long and night is upon me.  God is good and all giving.  An encore with lyrics for the significant other.

The Rain Song

It is a springtime of my loving
The second season I am to know
You are the sunlight in my growing
So little warmth I’ve felt before

It isn’t hard to feel me glowing
I watched the fire that grew so low
It is the summer of my smiles
Flee from me Keepers of the Gloom

Speak to me only with your eyes
It is to you I give this tune
Ain’t so hard to recognize –
These things are clear to all from time to time

Talk talk talk talk

I’ve felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go
I cursed the gloom that set upon us…
But I know that I love you so

These are the seasons of emotion
And like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion
I see the torch we all must hold

This is the mystery of the quotient
Upon us all a little rain must fall.

Just a little rain.


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