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August 4, 2024

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

For courage in our Church. May God endow Pope Francis and ___, our Bishop with joy from the Eucharist to serve beyond measure the people of the world.

We pray to the Lord.

For a deeper reverence toward the Sacred Eucharist. May God’s presence be in our hearts as we break bread and share the mystery of love in our world.

We pray to the Lord.

For a new vision of hope in our world. May we seek gospel justice and integrity in our every action on the earth.

We pray to the Lord.

For people starving for kindness. May we let go of false judgements of people and gladden the lives of our neighbors.

We pray to the Lord.

For people ravaged by storms, floods and droughts. May we work diligently to house people who have lost homes from natural disasters throughout the world.

We pray to the Lord.

For bread bakers, restaurant owners, and food delivery drivers. May all who embark to feed others find consolation, satisfaction and safety in their livelihood.

We pray to the Lord.

For people suffering from ill health and body pain. May we all seek the healing grace of God and help our neighbor in time of need.

We pray to the Lord.

For children who are malnourished throughout the world. May we feed our next generation with sufficient bread and sufficient hope for their future. May we learn to feast on God’s care and protection.

We pray to the Lord.

For our relatives and friends who have died. May our beloved dead find eternal life in the beauty of God’s eternal face.

We pray to the Lord.

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July 28, 2024

Seventeenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Let us pray for all leaders of faith. May Francis, our Pope, and ___, our Bishop, find true spiritual food in prayer and service among all people.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for enduring and lasting peace on the earth. May waring nations find the food of freedom for all people. May hope be our true food.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people enduring summer storms and violent weather. May farmlands be saved, and homes be refurbished. May people be nourished with true hope for the future.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for adequate rest and new perspectives in summer months. May God inspire us to pray as we spend time in nature’s beauty. May God open our hearts so we may surrender to the richness of the earth.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people imprisoned in sorrow and in jails. May God free all people to know love, support and courage. May God feed us in our journey toward freedom.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for children who ache to be heard and seen. May our youth who have been abused find hope and courage to live productive lives.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people who are starving for shelter, healthcare, education and adequate food. May God inspire the world to provide the basics of life for all people. May we work daily for such nourishment.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for all people in nursing homes and hospitals. May all the ill find loving care and protection as they heal in mind, body and soul.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones who have died. May we walk to their graves in these summer months with hope and peace. May God bring them home to see the face of Christ Jesus.

We pray to the Lord.

Heavy Lifting

Posted on March 1, 2010

Originally published in Celebrate Magazine, March 2010. I ran across this article again this week. It is one that expresses my conversion in the Eucharist. Here, at the altar, I see my place among those who teach me what life is and what faith is all about. Enjoy.

I often feel embarrassed standing at the altar alone on Sunday morning. I lift my arms out from my sides, hold my palms up and offer verbal prayers on behalf of the community. My body assumes this posture while everyone in the community is kneeling. I sense my feet on the ground, my hands raised up, my voice projecting and so often I feel alone.

I experience this deep loneliness because I take seriously this responsibility to offer people’s lives to God. When I feel my arms weaken and hear my voice quiver, I know that the emotional weight of people’s lives bears down on me. Every Sunday I feel this profound body workout as I lift up my heart in prayer standing at the altar of celebration and communion.

Ministering among people who suffer poverty and loss in our urban parish has formed in me a deeper understanding of celebrating Eucharist. Praying with people who have no power in our culture strips me of any assumption that being at the altar is about my own authority, talent or ego. I come to realize that the gesture of opening my arms in prayer is my real work, my daily confrontation with God and myself.

At the altar I come to grips with the fact that people suffer beyond my ability to offer solace, change or even consolation. Praying amid people suffering homelessness connects me to real human need. Here, I am united in heart and soul with people who kneel in prayer. I do not think more of myself as the only person standing.

Looking into the faces of people bent over the pews during Mass changes me. I stand at the altar on behalf of people who do not know where to turn with their pain, uncertainty and challenges of life. I feel in my bones a deep connection to people’s unanswered questions. I pray every Sunday that there will be enough grace to fill the void in every heart.

I look to the Solemnity of the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ for solace among people starving for the basic needs of life. The disciples knew of the hunger of the crowd gathered to hear Jesus. They approached him, scratching their heads about how to feed the vast number of people. Jesus tells the disciples to give people food, taking responsibility for helping people get through their hunger. Of course the disciples complain to Jesus that only a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish will not be enough. Jesus offers a blessing on the measly portions. Everyone finds satisfaction, and leftovers fill twelve baskets.

I complain weekly to Jesus that people need more than what I can offer them. In our small parish, hunger for companionship fills the chapel on Sunday. I often wonder if Jesus is listening to the parents who have just lost their lonely, gay son to suicide. I question the compassion of Christ when I hear of the gang rape of a teenager after a school dance. I want Jesus to be around for the elderly man who was beaten by his son for a measly inheritance.

Standing at the altar on Sunday, I feel the weight of all these needs on my outstretched arms. This is the heavy lifting of my ministry as a priest. I learn from the hungry disciples to bring these needs to the person of Jesus. I trust even in moments of profound hunger and need that together we will all be fed; we will all discover love and we will all find the healing we need.

As I pray at the altar on Sunday, I also view people torn apart by the judgment of other people and the condemnation of society. This need for reconciliation bears down even more on my extended arms and open hands. I realize every Sunday that my posture at the altar remains so countercultural. Here, my open hands must also be a gesture of hospitality and welcome. This goes against our human instincts to clench our fists at drug users, prostitutes, street teens or people who threaten the status quo.

In Luke’s Gospel, a woman comes uninvited to the home of a Pharisee. She arrives with an alabaster flask of ointment because she knows that Jesus is dining there. Her reputation as an outcast threatens everyone. She bends down to the feet of Jesus and weeps. She dries his feet with her long hair and kisses them. She anoints the person of Jesus, the feet of the Savior. She peels off the labels that people have placed on her as she reveals the love within her. Her action of love and tenderness becomes our moment of reconciliation.

I learn from this woman that if I am to remain at the altar with open-handed prayer, I must also wash the feet of our culture’s outcasts. I must learn even more to bridge the gaps among people who judge others. I must anoint people’s fear when unkind labels condemn them. I must kiss the feet of people abused by our society’s outpouring of hate.

My arms outstretched in prayer modeling the sign of the Crucified also tells me that I must take up my cross daily. I carry this burden when I welcome the lost sheep and embrace the homeless veteran. This heavy lifting will never end. I see in my gestures at the altar on Sunday the connection of how I live the limits of my life during the week. I discover at the altar that I am to lose my life in order to save it.

I understand now amid drug users and people suffering mental illness that standing at the altar on Sunday is not just a perfunctory rubric. This is the place of genuine love. Jesus tells me to keep my hand on the plow and never look back. So I keep my arms out from my side and my palms empty. I keep my eyes on the faces of people kneeling in the pews. I enter more deeply into my loneliness and discover again the people of God, the Body of Christ.

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July 21, 2024

Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Let us pray for Francis, our Pope, and ___, our Bishop. May they serve from the fire of love. May they offer us courage in trying times.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for all political leaders. May we seek the common good and may our leaders discover the grace to lead our nation into a future of hope for the next generation.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for a new measure of quiet this summer. May we take time to rest in the heart of Christ Jesus. May our inner turmoil find solace in moments of prayerful rest and silence.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for peace in our world. May all nations end war and violence. May swords and weapons rest on the ground of peace and hope for the future of the world.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for the next generation of believers. May God inspire our youth to offer their lives in service in the Church. May they realize their vocation and call to live from God’s abiding love.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people who live on our streets. May God inspire believers to work for the benefit of people who have lost jobs, employment, and hope for their future.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people suffering from dementia. May we rest our prayer for our loved ones who suffer any disease of the mind. May we be patient through the physical and emotional loss of our loved ones.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for people who seem lost and weary. May God shepherd the wayward into hope and joy. May God collect the searching to himself and send them into the world with new zeal.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones who are ill. May God remedy the pain of our loved ones and offer them courage in all suffering.

We pray to the Lord.

Let us pray for our loved ones who have died. May grief be healed in our hearts. May God welcome the dead into their eternal home.

We pray to the Lord.

Resistance to Christ

Jesus desires us. He invites us to lose our life in order to find it. This paradox reflects Christ’s death and resurrection. To become his followers, we are not to adhere to our own power or authority or inner control. Instead, Christ longs to influence our choices, our actions, our speech and our way of life. Christ invites us to surrender to his grace within us.

Every morning I experience the sword he brings. So often, I hesitate to pray. I cling to my own ideas and thoughts about my world. Trying to solve my own problems is embedded in my ego. Resistance to Christ is often my first moment of the morning. I am afraid he will call me to become something I do not want to be. I feel my hesitation to lose my life in him in every deep breath.  

Everyone lives on this point of this sword. At times, we all fear letting God be God in our lives. No matter our age or experience, losing our strident ways, our false ideas, and our self-centered perceptions is not easy. Yet, if we become Christ’s followers, we breathe lovingly into his presence and ponder his abiding spirit within us. Surrender brings healing and forgiveness. The sword becomes peace. His love remedies fear.

His story of love is revealed in us to become prophets of forgiveness and service. Even a glass of cold water becomes witness to such love for those who ache for his mercy

Fr. Ronald Patrick Raab, CSC, serves as religious superior at Holy Cross House, a medical and retirement facility at Notre Dame, Indiana. He is a retreat director, award-winning author, and visual artist. Learn more at ronaldraab.com

Published in Give Us This Day, from Liturgical Press, Collegeville, MN

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