When my daughter was younger, we had a ritual. It started when I first began my theological journey. I had the privilege of studying Theology as a laywoman at a seminary run by the Benedictine monks of Mt. Angel Abbey. The campus is located on the abbey grounds and is beautiful, peaceful, and serene. One of the many benefits of studying there was access to the abbey church. The monks, of course, observe the Divine Office praying five times a day plus Mass. There was always a break in classes at noon and, if I was so inclined, I could go to noon prayer, which I did almost every day. It was a privilege to be able to participate. I had never heard of the Divine Office before, so this became my introduction.
I was already in the habit of getting up early to pray or read the Bible but became enthralled with the Office. I asked some of the seminarians about it and they explained that the Office is contained in a set of books. These books can be overwhelming and confusing for someone new to this type of prayer, so I did a search on an app store and came across an app called DivineOffice. There are other apps available now such as iBreviary, but DivineOffice is the one I began with. I really liked it because I could get up and pray with the lights off so as not to disturb anyone. I also enjoyed listening to the prayers, which is a nice feature of the app, and seeing that others around the world were praying too.
In the evening, when I put my daughter to bed, I would sing her a song that began with the opening line of the Divine Office: “Oh God, come to my assistance. Oh Lord, make haste to help me.” I like the line because it reminded her (and me) that we can call on God for assistance and that it’s okay to ask him to make haste. Although, in all honesty, it often seems to me that he does not do so. I’m impatient and want answers immediately. Instead, God allows me time to patiently wait to see the beauty of his plan unfold. In the beginning, I would sing her the song the monks sing at noon prayer. At one point we switched to singing, “O Christ Who Art the Light and Day,” which is a little longer song and can be found online. Eventually, we began to listen tonight prayer together. We listened to the Divine Office lying in bed with the lights off praying the prayer of the Church. It was very relaxing and nice for us both.
As time went on, she started joining me for morning prayer, lying quietly beside me listening, and spending time with me. Thus, my daughter’s introduction to prayer beyond a quick goodnight prayer to God. Through this introduction she became open to seeking answers to things she didn’t understand about what we heard at Church or something a friend, usually, a non-believer had said to her about religion.
One year she started noticing that the Christmas season was starting very early in the year, somewhere in the middle of October. Everywhere we went my daughter would remark, “How can they have Christmas stuff out already?” I’m not sure why this all surprised her but she did not like it. We live in Poland, so we do not have the Black Friday demarcation date to officially begin decorating for Christmas. Apparently, my daughter has an internal gage, which told her that clearly, it was too early.
However, soon she was influenced by all the marketing and wanted to start the holiday as soon as possible. The imaginary line had been adjusted. I could not figure out how but suddenly it was appropriate to play Christmas music and buy a tree in November. Considering that Poland does not celebrate Thanksgiving I was having a hard time transitioning. I just seemed to be unable to move to the holiday season without it. So, in an effort to stall the inevitable and with the serendipitous occurrence of Hanukkah on Thanksgiving that year, I decided we’d focus on that. Krakow has a Jewish quarter so learning more about other traditions as well as our connection to Judaism seemed like a good idea.
“But what is Hanukkah?” she asked.
I said, “Well, don’t tell any of my Jewish friends but I’m not exactly sure… except for what I’ve learned from passing conversations with them but we can read about it in the Bible.”
My daughter was delighted. I’m not sure if it was because she really liked to read the Bible or if she just liked to snuggle in bed and listen to a story, either reason was fine with me. So, we began to read Maccabees which contains the story of how the celebration of Hanukkah came about.
The Book of 1 Maccabees begins with the story of how Alexander the Great “… advanced to the ends of the earth, gathering plunder from many nations; the earth fell silent before him” (1 Maccabees 1:3). An ominous beginning. The book continues with an account of the rulers that followed him and their domination of the people of Israel. My daughter listened, pausing now and again to ask about a word or something she didn’t understand but soon she simply listened until I heard a sharp intake of breath from her and when I looked over she was rubbing the tears from her eyes. “What’s wrong?” I asked but she couldn’t speak. Quickly it occurred to me that she was crying because of what I had just read.
He insolently invaded the sanctuary and took away the golden altar, the lampstand for the light with all its fixtures, the offering table the cups and the bowls, the golden censers, the curtain, the crowns, and the golden ornament on the façade of the temple. He stripped off everything, and took away the gold and silver and the precious vessels; he also took all the hidden treasures he could find (1 Maccabees 1:21-23).
I said: “Oh, don’t cry. It’s okay.” And then I heard this come from my mouth, “It’s only a story.” I must pause here. This is not “only a story.” This is a historical account of God’s people, an account which, when read in light of the New Testament, reveals God’s Divine Revelation. These are events that happened to real people. But given the severity of the reading I wanted to calm my child.
Trying to be brave, my daughter said weakly: “But they’re stealing from God’s house.”
“I know, honey,” I said, then paused and read on. “And there was great mourning in Israel…” (1 Maccabees 1:25).
As we read, I started to pay more attention to her reaction and she lay there quietly still trying to be brave, but it just got worse: “Women who had had their children circumcised were put to death, in keeping with the decree, with the babies hung from their necks; their families also and those who had circumcised them were killed” (1 Maccabees 1:60-61).
Then we paused. She was crying and asking, “Why did they do that?” I thought for a moment and told her that I did not know. Then I told her it was okay to cry. I wondered why I hadn’t because we should cry over things such as this. We should cry over how we treat each other. We should be sad when hearing about wars. Not just angry, but sad. We should cry. We teach our children not to be so sensitive. We let them watch stories filled with violence on television. We let them see the news of the world and slowly desensitize them.
I thought about all of this and mostly that my small daughter cried because they stole from God’s house. This should wound me to the core as it did her. And so I paused and reflected feeling the grief of the words. And we cried. We both cried. It was a time to be sad.
I could write much about this alone. I live in a city that holds a constant reminder of the atrocities that have taken place here; the entrance to the Ghetto, Schindler’s factory, and, a mere thirty miles away, Auschwitz, a place that all Polish high schoolers from Krakow are required to go. A reminder of a foreign invader who slaughtered Jews, Poles, intellectuals, handicapped, priests and religious or anyone who defied the regime or was deemed unacceptable.
Currently, Russia has amassed troops on the Ukraine border, the border between Poland and Bialystok is closed, the conflict has erupted in Kazakhstan, not to mention the continued wars that have been raging across the globe, some for more than seventy years. So yes, it is a time to cry and say to our God, “Oh God, come to my assistance! O Lord, make haste to help me!”
But Christianity is a religion of hope. In such darkness how can we find peace? For me, the prayer of the Church is a good place to start. I also believe that regardless of the evil in the world, peace comes first through prayer and then by acts of charity. I am powerless over the violence in the streets and in the world, but I can help my neighbor. I can help those around me who need help. I am not always capable of helping in a profound way, but I can always smile at someone, hold the door for the next person, ask how a friend or acquaintance is doing. I believe the most precious thing I can give to another individual is my time and attention. As the tune from my childhood goes; “they will know we are Christians by our love…”
At times, however, I am not capable of even this. Blocked as I am, by my own self-centered fear or lack of time, I fall short. The way through this is to pray and seek the Peace of Christ above all else. Through daily prayer and participation in the Sacraments, the self-centeredness and fear begin to melt away. I am able to see beyond myself. When I am open, I see that God seeks contact with me through my own contact with others. We are the body of Christ.
Recently, I spoke with my spiritual advisor because I am very busy and many people were calling to ask me for spiritual help. I felt overwhelmed, that I didn’t have enough time to do my work. He told me simply to focus on what is in front of me, do what I can to help, and leave the rest to God. Very simply put, he said: “God makes time.” When I follow this advice there seems always to be enough time.
The other thing I can do to help change the world is to teach my daughter how to pray. To give her the shelter from the storm found within a simple conversation with God. And of course, the healing power of the Eucharist and the Sacraments. There are not always answers to the evil I often see. I do not understand the times when God is silent but when I continue to stay present, for God is in this moment, then I find that as Julian of Norwich writes in her work Revelations of Divine Love, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall well.”
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