by  Fr. Raoul Plus, S.J., Progress in Divine Union

Part Two is here.

Part One is Here.

To get a good start in the morning, through the energy of one’s love and the help of the precautions taken the evening before; to renew quietly the bonds of divine union at favorable opportunities, such as on entering a room, hearing a bell ring, taking leave of someone, or beginning or finishing a piece of work; to ask God humbly for the desired help to correspond to grace: these are all positive helps to union with God.

They offer possibilities for achievement that will be more or less easy according to the alertness and aptness of the individual soul. Above all, in one who is inclined to give a little more time to prayer and well-chosen spiritual readings, they ought to have appreciable results.

There are, further, certain negative precautions that are important: the avoidance of useless thoughts and the curbing of natural impetuosity. We all have the habit of conversing with ourselves, and nothing is more fruitful if the ideas exchanged are worthwhile. Unfortunately, if we are not vigilant, we become come for the most part the victim of useless prattling, as harmful as the chatter of two persons who continue to talk when they have nothing to say.

St. Francis de Sales once jokingly spoke in praise of poor memories, quoting in this connection the words of St. Paul to the Philippians: “Forgetting the things which are behind,” and he showed the spiritual advantage in not remembering so many things when we are occupied in prayer or the concerns of our daily life.

“We never live,” a certain philosopher once remarked. “We hope to live.” It might be good to add that not only do we project our thoughts into the future, but we unceasingly scrutinize the past. Truly, a weak memory can sometimes times be very profitable, for have not many of our failings and nearly all of our inattention to God come from the play of our memories, in season and out of season?

Furthermore, certain natures are the prey of impressions: they react to everything, for everything, for nothing. They laboriously concoct dreams throughout the day. They build up imaginary situations, one more fantastic than the other. They probe the thoughts of such and such a person.

Upon the slenderest hint, they invent a whole novel. From a single word they overheard, they deduce a whole argument, arriving at positive conclusions. They are living kaleidoscopes.

Women are said to be particularly adept in this kind of sport. They are affectionate, and that may strangely enough be a help in prayer; they have impressionable souls and an imagination that easily rambles, and that can be very detrimental to recollection.

What can we do? Each of us must discipline himself, using the means at hand. We must go to God by means of the possibilities that are ours. The abilities of one are not the abilities of another. Even when we have a definite set of fixed rules, we must always in practice take account of the personal coefficient.

God knows that well and does not require of all a like achievement. The essential thing is that we go to the limit of our grace, not to the limit of another’s grace.

That is the reason for the wide diversity among the saints, even among souls dwelling together in the same institute or in the same family. Nothing is more delightful than this variety in the different types of religious psychology.

There is no doubt that a married woman, if she is a good manager and is not encumbered by some job outside the home, can find time for normal religious exercises and can even provide for meditation, spiritual reading and a relatively frequent assistance at Mass and reception of Holy Communion; time, after all, is something that varies in its possibility for adaptations and compressibility and woman excels in the heart of putting many things into a small place…. -Christ in the Home, Fr. Raoul Plus, S.J., 1950′

Do you need some good reading suggestions? Visit….

My Book List

Book List for Catholic Men

Book List for the Youth

by  Fr. Raoul Plus, S.J., Progress in Divine Union

Part One is Here.

We ought to begin early in the morning. Someone asked St. John Vianney for advice on how to remain united with God at every moment. The saint responded by revealing what he did himself: “At the beginning of the day, I try to unite myself closely to our Lord, and then I act with the thought of that union.”

Further, we should endeavor to fall asleep thinking of God, and should our sleep be broken, try even then to avoid the admission of any distracting ideas.

Upon arising, before we allow the preoccupations of the day to engross us, we ought to make a gentle but firm effort to fix ourselves in God. This is of tremendous importance if the hour of prayer follows close upon the hour of arising.

Night gives us a free, clear mind; since the last movement of our soul before going to sleep was supernatural, it is fitting that we oppose any intrusion of distracting ideas that might trouble us at prayer.

If, for some reason, the time for prayer must be set for later in the day, as is often the case with the mother of a family, it is no less important, since very often all depends upon a good start.

A lively recollection of the divine presence within us, or of approaching Holy Communion; the thought of the sanctification of our day, which will help to make up the immense ensemble of the life of souls; the gripping realization of prayer needed for sinners and of reparation to be offered for the world for its sins of the night that has passed; the feast of the day, if the Liturgy holds a special appeal -any such thought will establish contact with God.

We must use what best succeeds for us. But it must be something definite, strong, truly stimulating, and expressed with a maximum of love. The warmer the air and the stronger the wind, the higher the balloon rises. It is a question, we must not forget, of elevation.

To unite ourselves to God is first and foremost a supernatural act. We must, then, earnestly beg from Heaven the necessary help that the Lord may multiply His advances and that we may have the quiet of soul and the required courage to correspond to His interior solicitations.

We must pray humbly and persistently, convinced that alone, without God’s powerful grace, we shall fail.

In the spiritual diary of young Lyautey, the following significant entry was found under the date of October 1876, at which time the future marshal, then twenty-two, was taking an officer’s course at Saint Cyr:

“You think you are holy; you really believe you are worth something because I have flooded you with graces…. But what have you done? You have never struggled.”

Without ceasing, I have sent you my inspirations as I am giving them to you now at this moment; without out ceasing, I have allowed you to be recollected, and you have never known how to make use of my revelations.

Instead of recognizing that it was I who deigned to speak to you, you persisted in believing that in your fruitful reflections it was you who elevated yourself above your life through your own generous efforts, and looking upon yourself with admiration, you became self-complacent.

How can you hope to meditate with profit when, instead of withdrawing from yourself, of establishing silence in your soul, you become, as it were, two persons, the one prostrate before the other; the one seeming to pray while the other extols him saying, `You are great; you are noble; you are holy; you are generous.’

Even now as I speak to you, are you not inclined to admire yourself because you are attentive to me? Think, then, my son, of all those to whom I do not speak at all. Think of the absolutely special graces you have received.

What wisdom in this young officer’s meditation! We so readily believe that of ourselves we are capable of something. Should it happen that we enjoy consolations, we imagine that these divine favors are the reward of our goodwill. The failure of many of our efforts toward union with God can be laid to our secret pride.

There will be some things, of course, that very soon they will not want to do for her..dull, dreary things, fetching, cleaning, carrying. But these also they must be trained to do. The mother will often want to save time and trouble by doing them for herself, but if she does she will hurt her children’s character. She must train them young to work for others, to be unselfish, to give. -Dominican Nun, Australia, 1950’s

Do you need some good reading suggestions? Visit…

My Book List

Book List for Catholic Men

Book List for the Youth

by V. Kowalski, The Catholic Family Australian Magazine

A hot summer’s day was drawing to a close, and the setting sun cast a crimson glow on the walls of a somewhat gloomy-looking castle, which, vacated by the proprietors, had been hastily converted into a military hospital.

A few days before, a terrible battle had been fought in the immediate neighborhood; a great many gallant soldiers, from the ranks both of conquerors and conquered, had fallen on the field, never to rise from it again; and a great number of wounded men were carried to the castle.

Groans of agony resounded within its precincts as one after another of the stricken men who awaited their turns to have their wounds dressed was carried in and laid on the mattresses which were spread on the floor of a large empty room.

Swiftly and noiselessly the attendants moved to and fro, executing the briefly-worded orders of the medical men, given in low but peremptory tones. At length the last man had received attention, and the wearied doctors and their assistants withdrew, leaving their patients under the care of the Sisters of Mercy, who would remain with them all night.

In a small chamber upstairs lay an officer of high rank in the Prussian army, both of whose legs had been shattered by the bursting of a bomb. The injured limbs had been skillfully amputated, but the prostration consequent on the great loss of blood was such as to leave little hope of his recovery; in fact, the surgeon had that day told the nurse that the sufferer could hardly live through the night.

Kneeling by the open window, her pale features lit up by the bright afterglow of the sun which had already sunk in the west, the Sister devoutly recited the Rosary, praying earnestly for the soul that was soon to pass from time into eternity.

The sick man made a slight movement, and the Sister went softly to his side and asked him if he felt any easier. She spoke in the Polish language; for the wounded officer was a Polish count and the religious was his fellow-country-woman. She was one of a small party of Sisters who had been sent from a convent in Posen to the seat of war to tend the sick and wounded, whether friends or foes.

“I have difficulty in breathing, Sister,” he replied, “otherwise I am not in pain.”

“Shall I send for a priest, Count? she next inquired. “You may, perhaps, wish to make your confession. To have one’s conscience at peace is often a step toward the recovery of physical health and strength.”

The officer smiled faintly and said: “Speak frankly, Sister: confess that you do not think I shall recover and you are desirous that I should not depart out of this world unprepared, if indeed it comes to that. Am I not right?”

The nurse answered, evasively: “Our life is in the hand of God, and we know not how soon the end may come. Therefore it is well to be prepared to appear before our Judge with a calm conscience.”

“Then you think a man dies more peacefully after confession?”

“Yes, I am quite sure of it. A clean conscience and prayer give peace to the heart and inspire one with the hope of a better life hereafter.”

“But, Sister, I have got out of the habit of praying, and I never go to confession. I have forgotten how to pray.”

“If you will allow me I will help you, Count. We will pray together.”

“Then you believe in the power of prayer? Do you really believe that our prayers are of any use?”

“Most assuredly I do. With my whole soul I believe that God hears and answers the supplications that arise from our inmost heart. To prove to you how firmly I believe it, let me tell you that for thirty years I have daily said a decade of the Rosary for the conversion of a certain person, and I shall continue to do so until my dying day; although it is highly improbable that I shall ever know whether my petition has been granted.

But, trusting in the all sufficient merits of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I feel confident that I have not prayed in vain.”

“Who is the fortunate individual for whom you intercede so perseveringly? May I know his name?”

“I have never seen the unhappy man who has forsaken his God. I do not even know his name — at least I know only that his Christian name is Louis, and that he belongs to a family of rank, who are known to be devout Catholics. ”

“Louis! Louis!” the Count murmured. “Tell me, Sister, what has induced you to pray for this erring Louis if he is quite a stranger to you?”

“It is too long a story to tell you Count. I am afraid it will weary you. ”

“Nothing of the sort. Tell me your story; it will serve to while away the time that must elapse before I either regain my strength or pass from hence.”

“Do you think it will interest you?”

“It will interest me more than you imagine. Begin at once. I am anxious to hear it.”

“My father,” the Sister began, “lost all his property through unfortunate circumstances. Soon after he died, leaving my mother almost penniless, with four children dependent on her.

One day a lady came to see us, and took us all to live with her. I remember that she was very pretty, but had an extremely sad expression of countenance. My mother made herself useful in the house, and our hostess gave us children a good education.

I felt called to the religious life; my mother consented to my entering a convent; our benefactress gave me a small dowry and sent me, with her blessing, to Paris, where I passed my novitiate.

On the day of my clothing my mother said: “You know, my child, that, after God, we owe everything to our munificent benefactress. She was my dearest friend when we were both girls, and she has been a good friend to you. I know you love her. Have you never wondered why one so fair, so wealthy, so benevolent, should always appear sorrowful?”

— “I have often remarked how sad she was,” I answered; “and could not understand why she was not happy.”

—”A secret grief casts its shadow over her life,” said my mother. “She had one sister, to whom she was fondly attached and this sister on her deathbed gave her only son into her charge, begging her to watch over him.

That nephew, although most carefully brought up, had no sooner left school than he cast aside restraint and entered on the path of sin and destruction. Not only did he set at naught his soul’s welfare: he ruined his health, gambled away his fortune, and by his irregular life broke his aunt’s heart; for she doted on him, despite all his misdeeds.

If you would prove your gratitude to our friend, say a prayer daily for her nephew Louis, that he may see the error of his ways and return to God. God alone can work that miracle of grace.”

“I solemnly promised to pray every day for his conversion; and I have kept my word, although my mother and our benefactress have been dead for twenty years.

Just now, while you were asleep, the thought of that unhappy man suddenly recurred to my mind and I felt terribly anxious about him. I knelt down directly, and earnestly entreated God to save him. I felt certain that some calamity threatened to overtake him — something worse even than death. Perhaps at this very moment he is in extreme danger.”

The Sister uttered these last words almost in a whisper, as if speaking to herself rather than to the sick man. When she turned and looked at him, she was startled and alarmed.

His eyes were half closed, two large tears were rolling down his pallid cheeks, and his hands trembled so violently that the silken coverlet rustled.

“My sad story has agitated you, Count!” she exclaimed. “I ought not to have told it to you. Forgive me! I will go and call the doctor.”

“No, do not go, dear Sister — pray do not go! Only tell me one thing more. You must know the name of the lady who was aunt to the Louis of whom you speak. Tell me what it was.”

“The name of that kind lady was Helene von Raborowska. Her maiden name was Von Granowska. Her family estate was near Granowa, and to that her nephew was the heir.”

Then the Count groaned aloud and hid his face. “Sister,” he said, with a trembling voice, “it was for me that you prayed so long. I am that Louis — that miserable wretch who broke his foster mother’s heart by his wickedness and folly.”

The Sister clasped her hands and, with tears in her eyes, exclaimed: “O my dear Count, now you must see that it is God’s Providence which has made me cross your path, and has touched your heart by means of my simple story! Do not, I beseech you, thrust from you the hand of a merciful God stretched out to receive you. Turn to Him with all your heart, so that after death you may rejoin that noble lady whom you loved in spite of all your errors — I see it by your tears. Shall I go at once to fetch the priest?”

The Count said nothing, but nodded his head as a sign of consent.

For two long hours the priest sat by the Count’s side; then he administered the sacraments to him. He received them with profound contrition and fervent devotion.

When he was once more alone with Sister Angelica, he raised her hand to his lips and said with heartfelt joy: “Sister, you understand the happiness that fills my soul now that I have made my peace with God. For a long time past my life has been embittered by stings of conscience and self-reproach. Words fail me to describe, to express the happiness I feel; and for this I have you to thank.

It is to your persevering prayers, after God and our Blessed Lady, that I owe my conversion, that I am enabled to hope and trust that my soul will be saved by the mercy of God”

The next morning, when the sun poured its golden beams upon the old castle, Count Louis was no longer among the living. With his last breath he extolled the loving-kindness of God, and expressed his gratitude to Sister Angelica for her prayers. They had prevailed with the Most High and, won pardon and peace for a sinner at the close of an ill-spent life, through the intercession of Our Lady, Queen of the Most Holy Rosary.

This incident shows the power exercised by faith and charitable intercession on behalf of another; for, as St. Chrysostom remarks, a man often owes his cure to the faith of someone else. Wherefore let us learn in seasons of sickness and affliction to claim the assistance of others.

As Scripture says, “The Lord will hear the prayers of the just,” and will grant to the loving intercession of another what He has denied to your own prayers.

Above all, entreat the Blessed Mother of God to add her powerful word to your petitions, remembering that what she asks of her Divine Son is invariably granted.

The wise wife recognizes her need of God. Frequently she tells Him of her insufficiency. To inspire her husband, to be patient, to be unselfish and loyal, to be the dozen and one other wonderful things a desirable wife must be –all this postulates the presence of God always at her side. – The Wife Desired, Fr. Leo Kinsella http://amzn.to/2sxl4Al (afflink)

Coloring pages for your children. Click on the individual picture for full size.

NEW!

Blessed Mother Graceful Wirewrapped Necklaces!

This graceful necklace can be worn every day as a reminder of your devotion to the Blessed Mother. Get it blessed and you can use it also as a sacramental. Available here.

The practicality of St. Teresa’s teaching about mental prayer shines through in this wonderful synopsis of her writings about it–something she said “the whole world could not purchase.” Learn how we should pray, in order to grow in the spiritual life.

This post contains affiliate links. Thank you for your support.

by Fr. Raoul Plus, S.J., Progress in Divine Union

Fidelity during the hours of prayer engenders an almost natural facility in prayer at other times. While this is not its only advantage, it is one that is valuable and easy to understand. The very act of forcing ourselves to spend generously at the feet of God the moments that our life, if intelligently planned, allots to prayer, brings us during that time to a degree of intimate divine union.  

Were this the only result, our gain would be immense. If, in conversation with a sincere friend, we find enrichment, how much more we can expect from converse with our Friend above all friends. Prayer brings into view new horizons of thought.  

When we have been absorbed in a divine atmosphere for some time – and let us hope that this time is never grudgingly given – our whole being becomes penetrated with the divine: our intellect dwells on the supernatural, our feelings are caught up by the supernatural, and our imagination fixes itself on the supernatural. 

 Little by little, the supernatural becomes the normal atmosphere of our soul. God, Christ, and the Blessed Virgin are no longer mere names but living personalities. The presence of the Holy Trinity in the depths of our soul, the life of the Savior in the Host, the marvel of the immense and fruitful communion of souls in the state of grace, are no longer nebulous theories but vital realities.  

The kingdom of God, which our Lord told us is within, is no longer an accessory in our life, but it is our very life. “First things first, and all other things in their place,” becomes our principle, with the result that all the human affairs of everyday existence assume their proper place, which is by far not the first.  

Our soul accustoms itself to live in truth, that is, in the divine. Our feet rest solidly on the earth but our conversation, that is, the whole tenor of our life, is in Heaven. The supernatural takes precedence over the natural. Our efforts to approach divine realities constrain divine realities to respond, and by the normal workings of habit, they begin to control us, to dominate us.  

If one tries often and for long periods to adapt himself to a certain climate, he will eventually feel as if the climate has adapted itself to him, becoming a part of his existence.  

We are all familiar with the expression “master an idea”; it would be much better to say, “Be mastered by an idea.” Prayer achieves this for us. It establishes union with God not only while we pray, but makes this union relatively easy for us, in keeping with our character and occupations, even when we are not explicitly occupied with prayer.  

Consider again a conversation with a friend. Once the conversation has ended, the contact is not broken; it is less lively, perhaps, less real, more diffuse, but effective still. Multiple memories arise: the words spoken, the dear face, the continued sense of the happiness of being together.  

Our friend has gone and yet remains. No one else sees him, but we never cease seeing him, and all that we do, we do in the light of his invisible presence, just as a young wife finds her whole house brightened by her husband band even when he is away at work.  

When we deal with our divine Friend, the supernatural action of grace cooperates with the normal and human workings of habit. God never allows Himself to be outdone in generosity. He seeks those who seek Him. He pursues with His attentions the soul that places its happiness in loving Him or at least puts forth effort to give Him, whenever it can, a proof of love.  

When we exert ourselves in prayer to think only of Him, He comes to us in the midst of our occupations. That is characteristic of the Holy Spirit. He is magnificently grateful, reciprocating a hundredfold every little attention we pay Him.  

Of course, it is true, as was suggested before, that our occupations, some of which are so absorbing, our disposition and temperament frequently so unstable, our imagination and feelings constantly active, are sometimes helps and very often hindrances to these divine contacts, these occasional and fleeting communications.

But the law holds: to pray sometimes helps to pray often; nothing more readily develops the spirit of prayer than prayer; nothing so impels God to unite Himself to us at every moment as our resolute effort to meet Him at fixed times for prayerful repose close to His Heart. We must not expect God to make all the advances; we, too, must expend some effort. 

 Before we try to arrive at an intelligent understanding of what this effort means, we will give some thought to the meaning of prayer. Our “elevation toward God,” which is prayer, can take place in three ways.  

In its weakest form, it consists simply in being in the state of grace. According to many authors, all acts placed when this fundamental state of union exists and the soul possesses divine life can justifiably be called prayer. 

Others claim that to have prayer, in the strict sense of the word, there must be in addition to the fundamental state of grace an intention of elevation toward God. This intention can be actual or virtual. It is actual if formulated at the moment one starts to act: “My God, I offer You this work,” whether the words be said explicitly or implied by an equivalent act.  

It is virtual if it has been formulated at a time considerably antecedent to the beginning of the act it elevates to God. For example, in the morning on arising we can direct to the Most High through the Morning Offering, or any other formula, all the activity of the day. Then, as the hours and minutes roll by, the various actions rise in homage to God. We may, too, from time to time throughout the day, think of raising our mind and heart to God. 

 At the time we make these intentions, the Morning Offering, and the other periodic offerings, they are clearly actual; their effect of “elevation” governs virtually the length of time that follows until the next actual intention. In this way, strong states and weak states follow upon one another to constitute a continuous and almost constant elevation of the soul.  

What we would like to stress here is the manner of making the good intention as constantly actual as possible. We know that “to pray always” does not command us to a state of constant actual elevation exclusively, and that the majority of souls united to God live rather in a state of virtual elevation.  

Our Lord does not require continuous acts of union that, we might say, are for the most part impossible, but a continuous state of offering. In other words, God asks not so much for constant attention to Him as for the constant intention to do nothing that is not wholly for Him.  

We will not rest satisfied with a virtual intention only, but seek to attain a union with God that is morally constant and actual. We say morally constant, because, clearly, aside from special graces, our capacity for attention, even when wisely and consistently disciplined, is too weak and our occupations in many instances are too distracting to permit the twin effort necessary to think at one and the same time of what we are doing and of God, for whom we work.

Coloring pages for your children….

As Sr. Lucia of Fatima said this is a time of diabolical disorientation. We find an amazing type or image of this in the life of St. John of the Cross. To conquer this inversion, as St. John did, we must remain firm and steadfast in our faith and employ the power of the Most Holy Trinity in casting the devil out of our lives. This is always done through the making of the Sign of the Cross…

Do you need some good reading suggestions? Visit…

My Book List

Book List for Catholic Men

This post contains affiliate links. Thank you for your support.