Dear Beautiful Daughters of Mary,
Spiritual Gift of the Week
We pray for the grace of authenticity and holiness—like Mary, who: “Committing herself whole -heartedly and impeded by no sin to God’s saving will, devoted herself totally … to the person and work of her Son, under and with Him, serving the mystery of redemption… ” (L.G. 56).
Spiritual Instruction of the Week
God helps me in my prayer—the first work of faith—So ‘I have set my face like a flint.’
Our purpose as Daughters of Mary is prayer. This week’s Gospel poses the question that Mark’s Jesus asks his disciples: “Who do you say that I am?” (8:27). Jesus poses the same question to us in prayer. The following three images may be understood as one response—they are meant to motivate and direct our prayer.
I. Christ our Horizon.
Christ is with us and yet, not yet. This sentiment is suggested often in the New Testament: The kingdom is here—at hand—and near. And yet we pray: “Thy kingdom come.” Horizon is the image often used by scholars to describe this “already, but not yet” experience of Christ and his kingdom. The Greek word for horizon means “to distinguish.” The horizon is the line of distinction between heaven and earth. The horizon empties into the darkness and pours it’s light out upon the earth.
In prayer, Christ marks the line of demarcation—the line between humanity and divinity. Christ, as divine light, self-empties into the heart of humanity. Christ pours light into our darkness. Christ is our horizon.
II. Christ vs. Vertigo
Prayer that is focused on Christ turns us inside out—and upside down—and at times, this is difficult—even dizzying. We lose our balance. We fail to pray, or worse, we fall from prayer.
To be dizzy, to lose balance, to fall—these sound much like the symptoms of vertigo. Recently, I suffered a case of vertigo—not serious—yet, serious enough. I lost my balance and fell. To fall is discouraging—it is in fact downright frightening. My dear husband counseled me out of my distress, until our own “dizzy doctor,” cured me. “Open your eyes, focus on the light that shines in the distance—it will give you balance. Open your eyes, hold on to something concrete, something close to you. It will make you steady.” An easy fix for a difficult issue: Open your eyes—look at the light in the distance—cling to something close—and vertigo vanishes.
Christ’s steady presence and light looms large in the writings of the New Testament. We are to open the eyes of our hearts in prayer. We turn toward Christ’s light—we turn away from the darkness within. In prayer, we cling to Christ’s presence and we gain balance—we become steady—and the vertigo of our hearts vanishes.
III. Christ as Flint
On Tuesday, we struck together two small arrowheads of flint—and for a split second—we saw a spark!
A flint is a hard grey stone, most likely quartz, which sparks fire and light. In ancient Palestine, quartz was easy to find and often used as a weapon or a tool. Because of it’s hardness it was unyielding—and did not break, but rather, it produced sparks to ignite fire and bring light.
“For the Lord God is my help…therefore, I set my face like a flint.” We will hear these challenging words in Sunday’s first reading from Isaiah (50:7). Not only does the prophet allude to the often used image of God as “rock” in this text, but also, he goes a step further. He speaks of flint, the hardest, most effective and easy to find rock of all. Isaiah’s meaning is clear, if we allow the power of his imagery to work. One who is like flint—sparks divine light.
Isaiah’s flint image is unmistakable in the New Testament. In Luke for example, we are told that Jesus “steadily set his face,” as he headed for Jerusalem to be taken up into heaven (9:51). He is determined and resolute, as he prepares to complete his mission on earth. He knows God will help him, therefore, his resolve is as firm as flint. Set on heaven. Jesus ascends and sends to us his Spirit—to spark light in our lives.
Jesus is God’s help for us. His Ascension sparked a line of light—a line of demarcation—within our hardness of heart. He set a fire—using the tool, the weapon, of his own Spirit— a light which passes steadily, unyieldingly through the ages of human history. Jesus himself became a “flint.”
Our purpose—our mission—is prayer. Imagery happens in prayer, if we allow it. And images have great potential to give meaning to our prayer and our lives. Imagery works to motivate and direct us.
So let us imagine and let us pray….
DEB
Author Info
