Interesting Article on Catholic Marriage

I just read an interesting article that claims that divorce among faithful Catholics is just as common as divorce among the general population.  While some may be shocked, I can’t say that I am.   Back when I first entered seminary, I naively thought that Catholic seminary was a place where the cream of the crop gathered.  Seminary was an ideal community of holy men, I thought.  My idealism has since been shattered, not just because I’ve witnessed imperfections in others, but because I see so many imperfections in myself.

If orthodox, prayerful seminaries are wrought with difficulties, how much moreso will the Catholic marriage be difficult!  Marriage is a permanent thing, whereas seminary is temporary.  Furthermore, many seminarians can get through seminary bitter without ever having someone correct them; in marriage, one cannot get bitter with one’s situation without severely hurting the marriage.

Anyway, it was an interesting article.  It’s recommended reading.

The Suffering Man

I discussed prayer with a group of high schoolers today.  It was a good discussion, but at one point I wished to bring up a point but deemed it too “advanced” to be discussed at that moment.  I wish to record it here.

I learned this semester that it is possible to make the very act of suffering a prayer.  This semester I had more trouble making time for prayer than any other time since I entered seminary, but the graces flowed more readily than ever.  I’d say the only way to explain this is to acknowledge that suffering itself can be a form of prayer, of uniting ourselves to God.  It is also the case, however, that some people suffer and become bitter.  What distinguishes those who become bitter from those who become holy through suffering?

It’s odd that God uses suffering to improve us.  Why didn’t God choose pleasure to produce saints rather than suffering?  Why did God choose silence and obsurity as the vehicle for his voice rather than the sounds of a busy city?  Why did God choose evil and the Cross rather than comfort and leisure to be the precursor to the Resurrection?  I don’t know the answers to these questions; all I know is that I have found Christ to be most present to me in silence, suffering, and the Cross.  We may never understand why God chooses to reveal himself in the ways that he does, but the key to making one’s suffering a prayer is simply to acknowledge that God is infinitely wiser than us, and that he wishes for us to find him in the midst of tribulation.  When we accept our crosses with such faith and hope that the way of the Cross ultimately ends in Resurrection our lives truly become a prayer.  Thus, the keys to making one’s suffering a prayer are the theological virtues.

A Passing Thought

Jesus told us to love our enemies and to pray for those who persecute us.  He forgave those who were persecuting him as he was dying on the cross.  But should we stop there?  As Christ was dying on the cross, he not only forgave his persecutors, but he also was offering expiation for their sins on their behalf.   Christ did not just pray for his persecutors, but he also conquered their death and loved at least some of them into heaven.

We cannot redeem like Christ can, but we can still, as St. Paul writes, make up for what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ by bearing our sufferings patiently.  We can offer Christ’s body and blood on their behalf when we receive him in the Eucharist.

If I received one grace out of this semester, it is this.  Towards the end of the semester, I had an imagining about someone who hates me reaching heaven and having Christ ask them to account for his or her sins (for short, we’ll use ‘his’).  Jesus lists his sins against me, for which the individual is sorry.  Jesus then says to him, “normally sins of this sort require a fair amount of time in purgatory to pay your debt for these sins; but that debt was already paid for you:  Paul has already paid your debt for you.”

I have thus taken up the devotion of offering sacrifice and penance for those who hate me.  My hope is to love my persecutors into heaven even as their actions against me speak to condemn them.  I hope to remove the last traces of bitterness from my soul.  I hope to love my enemies so much that Christ has no choice but to overlook my other faults on my judgment day.