Thursday of the Second Week of Lent

My Dear Good People,

This isn’t about today’s Gospel, but it’s about our relationship with God.

Each day I pray a holy hour in the chapel we call Cor Jesu (Heart of Jesus) in the health center for our Sisters here at our Motherhouse. It’s small enough to be very intimate, big enough to bear all the graces that Jesus pours out on us whenever we come to Him in suffering, hope, adoration and love. Often I’m alone. I put the cell phone on silent, which allows me to feel the vibration as it sits on the small table next to me. I do this when I’m expecting a call from a doctor or a priest. These calls come in often here in our health center.

Today, though, it vibrated several times with calls from a number I don’t recognize.  Just a few people have my number, so I don’t usually answer these robo calls (that want to sell me a brace for the bad knee I don’t have). After three such vibrations, I began to get impatient. I wanted to pray. I needed to be near God without interruption. There were things I wanted to tell Him.  So I turned the phone off completely. Gradually, though, I came to realize that this must be the way Jesus feels sometimes about our time together. There are times when I’m distracted, when I let the noise around me disturb the words that come from the Tabernacle, or when I find myself spending more time reading from an inspiring book than I do listening to Him.

It came to me that prayer is an extraordinary gift in this way: at any time I can be sure that the Blessed Trinity is waiting for me with no agenda except to love me and to be there when I need Him. On a plane or when I’m in my office alone, I only have to close my eyes, look inward and be present to God who is always present to me. I never have to worry that He might be busy and I would get His voicemail, or that He’ll have a do-not-disturb setting on His Heart. I know that He will never just ‘decline my call.’

By the same token I want to be sure that I don’t put obstacles in the way of His conversation with me. I want to be ready and waiting whenever He might choose to reach into my life today whether I’m before Him in the  Blessed Sacrament or in the quiet of my heart. Praying is a dialogue that always wants to leave the other free to speak or to keep silent, but with a tenderness that never turns one’s gaze from the other.

In this way, I can be ready to hear the story of the rich man and the poor man in today’s Gospel (Luke 16:19-31), or to hear the parable about the landowner who was betrayed by his own servants (Mt.  21:33-43), and wait quietly for Jesus to explain it to me in words only I need to hear.

All this, because when I pray in Cor Jesus 

or seek Him in a busy waiting room, I know,this much: 

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.

What an extraordinary gift.

Thank  You, most Holy God.