16th Sunday 2023
Wisdom 12:13, 16-19; Romans 8:26-27; Matthew 13:24-43
They’ve done it again! Once again the compilers of the Lectionary have provided us with three readings and a psalm, each of which could produce a whole homily’s worth of reflection.
I would like to begin with the Second Reading, Paul’s consideration of prayer. “The Spirit comes to help us in our weakness,” he begins, “for when we cannot choose words in order to pray properly, the Spirit itself expresses our plea”. How important are words in prayer? Clearly, they are not unimportant, especially in communal prayer. We need words in order to pray together, as the Body of Christ. In particular, we need those words which have been hallowed by centuries, indeed millennia, of usage; which have expressed the needs, the joys, the praise, the thanksgiving of the Body of Christ through the ages.
But what about our private prayer? Once again, there is a need for words at times, both the words given to us by Christ and by the Church, and those words which are our own, springing up spontaneously within us. We need to remember, though, that, in the last analysis, our prayer isn’t really OURS at all: it is God’s gift, as the Holy Spirit speaking in us, and it is crucial that we allow the Holy Spirit to get a word in edgeways.
Forty years ago, I heard a talk by the Jesuit Fr. Damian Jackson, in which he suggested a simple framework for prayer. It appealed to me, and I have used it ever since. It consists of three simple stages: be still, be grateful, be generous.
We begin with that injunction: be still. Take time and space to settle yourself, to become calm, to let the world drift away. Become comfortable but, at the same time, alert. Don’t slouch. Some people prefer to sit, with a straight back, their feet firmly planted on the floor, their hands open, palms upward in an attitude of receptivity. There are some who like to close their eyes, but in my case that is liable to lead to sleep: perhaps instead focus on a crucifix, or an icon, or, if you are in church, the tabernacle.
Personally, being of a somewhat quirky disposition, I prefer to lie full length, face downward. That does require a carpet, or some form of soft basis, if you are not to end up with rheumatism.
Then begin by simply being still. Know that you are in the presence of God. Don’t worry about wandering thoughts: when you become conscious of them, draw your mind gently back. Simply BE, knowing that God is there with you in the stillness and the silence. Fr. Jackson’s comment was “Waiting is the greatest form of adoration”.
In that stillness and silence, the Holy Spirit can operate, expressing your prayers “with unutterable groanings” as the Greek text actually puts it. It may be useful to have a passage of scripture to hand—perhaps one of the Mass readings of the day—but leave the work to the Holy Spirit.
This stillness, this openness to the Spirit, provides the context for the second and third stages—be grateful, be generous. Recall, in the stillness, some of the myriad things for which you have cause to be grateful: life, health, family, friends, fresh air, food, and football. Don’t forget the deeper things: the coming of God in our human flesh, His suffering and death for us, His Resurrection, His gift of the Spirit; your membership of His Body and your nourishment with His Body and Blood: His work of forgiveness.
Then, be generous. “Lord, what do you want me to do? What do you want me to do with the time and the talents that you have given to me? What do you want me to do for others? What do you want me to do for you? What do you want me to do today?”
Of course, this is merely one form of prayer among many. I have dwelt on it today because it chimes in with St. Paul’s words. And I haven’t mentioned the other readings. Ah well, they will come around again in three years’ time.
