Send Out Your Spirit

Send Out Your Spirit

“Lord, send out your spirit and renew the face of the earth” (see Psalm 104:30).

Every time I read those words, I find a familiar tune from one of the Responsorial Psalms dancing through my head. In addition to the song filling my ears, an image forms within my heart: I can almost feel the mighty rushing wind and see the tongues of fire descending and then dispersing outward to all the earth—animating, maintaining, and inspiring all creation with the Spirit of God.

Gifts and Fruits

The Holy Spirit, sent down from Heaven on Pentecost after Jesus ascended, bestows seven gifts: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord. In Confirmation, we are sealed with the Holy Spirit, completing our Baptism. In addition, our cooperation with and our living in the Holy Spirit bears spiritual fruit in us.

According to the tradition of the Catholic Church, there are twelve fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23; Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1832). Do you find yourself lacking in some or all of these gifts? Well, we have been offered a wonderful gift from God to pray and invite the Holy Spirit to increase them within us. Cooperating with this grace, these gifts and fruits at work through the Spirit, we can go forth and bring the Good News to others. We have been commissioned just like the Apostles, receiving the same Spirit that descended upon them at Pentecost.

Pentecost and Grace

The Feast of Pentecost reminds us of the many ways the Holy Spirit acts in our lives. The Catechism explains how we come to know the Holy Spirit through the Church, in the Scriptures, Tradition, and Magisterium, and through prayer, the witness of the saints, and the missionary life (see CCC, 688). The Spirit also confers sacramental graces, that is, the graces received in the seven sacraments.

Grace can be thought of as that freely given yet undeserved gift from God that helps us be holy. God asks us to be holy because He is holy (Mt 5:48). Sacramental grace transforms us, heals us, and helps us grow in faith. The Spirit prepares the faithful with grace that draws them closer to Christ, reveals the Risen Lord to them, and recalls the Word of God—opening their hearts and minds to understand these teachings so they may be embraced, lived, and brought to others.

Signs and Symbols

Although considered unseen, the Holy Spirit manifests in various symbols so that He can be perceived (see CCC, 694-701). One symbol is water, especially present at the sacrament of Baptism. The Spirit is also present in the living water, Christ, the source of eternal life. In the Biblical story of the Samaritan woman at the well (John 4:1-42), Jesus told the woman that whoever drank this water would never thirst again. The Spirit brings hope and a promise of eternal life.

The most familiar symbol of the Holy Spirit is that of fire, which came as tongues above the Apostles’ heads during Pentecost. With this fire came great gifts of prophecy, healing, discernment, and tongues, among others. Fire can also be an agent of refinement, a transformation of the original to a new, more purified form, as with gold. This infusion of the Holy Spirit within us, purifying and shaping us, brings with it new life and understanding of the gifts God grants us. We are each given our own gifts so that we may play an essential yet unique role in His good and perfect plan for us.

Guide and Inspiration

The Holy Spirit, the Paraclete, guides and directs us, empowers and motivates us, dwelling within, branded upon our souls as we experience our daily Pentecost. The life of a disciple requires continual prayerful discernment of how God calls each of us to use the gifts bestowed through the Spirit in serving the community of believers and the whole world.

We have a share in the redemptive mission. God doesn’t need us in this mission, as He has already accomplished it through His Son, but in His great love for us empowers us to be sharers in His work upon earth. He empowers, guides, and allows us to not only embrace a faith more deeply found through the Spirit for ourselves but, incredibly, He also gives us the opportunity to bring this Good News to others so they too can experience the indwelling of the Triune God.

 

Copyright 2025 by Allison Gingras

Edited by Theresa Linden

The four temperaments from a Catholic perspective: a review of Piety and Personality

The four temperaments from a Catholic perspective: a review of Piety and Personality

“The Almighty and All-merciful God … would not have created us with a temperament that was a stumbling block to our salvation. On the contrary, He gave us exactly the right temperament to help us gain Heaven.” — Rosemary McGuire Berry

The Lord has “counted the hairs” on our head (Mt. 10:30), just one passage often used to express how intimately He knows and cherishes His creations – from our hair to our thoughts, our actions, and our temperaments. Every quirk and strength, the Lord God made them all in us, although being humans, we are inclined to distort, ignore, and throw off balance the grace-filled characteristics he molded within us. Sinful, yes, but we are ultimately intended for His Kingdom and the tendencies toward laziness, brashness, hopelessness, and any traits we fight on a daily basis, are all under His continuous watch.

Even the saints, often depicted in beautiful, flower-adorned books and prayer cards as serene, other-worldly beings, battled their human weaknesses just like we do. Yet, they reached the Kingdom and so can we.

That’s the point of the Spring 2025 release of Piety and Personality: The Temperaments of the Saints (Tan Books), a first issue by Rosemary McGuire Berry. She offers a beginner examination, through the actions of 16 well-known and beloved saints, of the four temperaments, or humors, first established by Hippocrates: Choleric, Melancholic, Phlegmatic, and Sanguine. With this understanding, a dab of self-awareness, and significant persistence and prayer, we can begin to overcome our less desirable inclinations. If this sounds like another “self-help” book in an already saturated multibillion dollar industry, she cleverly enters through the specific niche of the Catholic audience, referring to Catholic practices such as praying the Rosary and going to Confession.

She states her purpose up front: that saints weren’t born holy; they worked at it and so can we, right now, in our difficult world.

“If we study our weaknesses, we can battle them more effectively,” she advises. “If we acknowledge our strengths, we can thank our Maker and work to develop those good tendencies” (p. 3), an angle takes it beyond the modern notion of “self-help.”

She quotes Father Joseph Massmann from his book, Nervousness, Temperament and the Soul, who contends we are duty-bound to understand our imperfections and strive to improve:

“‘The man who is not striving to become a better man resists the truth and keeps out of its way. For those who are striving after inward perfection – even for those who merely want to make a success of life – it is useful, indeed necessary, to examine these questions’” (pp.2-3, Berry).

Additionally, if we recognize the distinctive traits, people we don’t understand will begin to make more sense to us. The dominant, fearless, opinionated, “big picture” boss might have similarities with the Choleric St. Paul. The impulsive sister who always acts before she thinks might be a Sanguine, like St. Peter. That sullen boy could be a sympathetic Melancholic like the Little Flower.

“The Almighty and All-merciful God … would not have created us with a temperament that was a stumbling block to our salvation. On the contrary, He gave us exactly the right temperament to help us gain Heaven,” the author writes (p. 4).

She opens with brief paragraphs that generally describe each of the four. Then she jumps right into the saints and why she thinks a specific saint owns that particular temperament. This method of organization speaks to the point of the title, but at times, particularly in the chapters on St. Francis de Sales and St. Peter, while enjoyable, can be confusing and repetitive. In both, she moves on to address other saints of the same temperament, perhaps to give additional examples of the trait, but sometimes it sounds as though she is trying to force the saint to fit the trait. St. Francis de Sales is described as “Melancholic-Choleric” in the chapter title and she spends the first few pages talking about the Choleric disposition. She notes, however, that, upon studying his life and words, Choleric is the least of his traits. To her point, she impresses upon the reader that, ideally, we want to become a balance of the best of all four traits, which St. Francis de Sales achieved through a great deal of prayer, intention, and work.

Arguably, the most fascinating, tightly written and even poignant sections are on two Phlegmatic Thomases: Aquinas and More.

In the chapter on St. Thomas Aquinas, Mrs. Berry digs into his thorny family relations and the wreckage that is left when one strong personality dominates through its imbalanced state, essentially beating up on the meeker one. She reckons that his mother and brothers were ambitious Cholerics. The meditative and peaceful Thomas did not share their interests, and he was labeled slow and lazy. Often the “silent watchers,” Phlegmatics, she explains, “… do not have to battle their passions of anger, impatience, and dramatic tempestuous sorrow …. They are born calmer and more laid-back” (p. 139). The St. Thomas Aquinas chapter, more than any other in the book, shows the clashing of misunderstood personalities, particularly the child-parent relationship and sibling dynamics.

The piece on St. Thomas More demonstrates the Phlegmatic’s work ethic and eternal optimism, even in the most harrowing circumstances. His love of family radiates throughout the chapter. The author fills the section with writings of the martyred saint that show his peace, humor, diligence, and holiness.

Mrs. Berry offers helpful sidebar tips on each page to make the most of strong traits and help turn around the weaker ones. The author draws insightful distinctions between “good sadness” and “bad sadness,” and “meekness” versus “weakness”.

More than an offering an entertaining side of the saints, the book doles out information to give us another tool to help bring us closer to God and, perhaps, be more compassionate with one another. If Piety and Personality can give families more awareness of the misunderstood sides of one another to bring harmony and acceptance into the home, it’s worth the price.

© Copyright 2025 by Mary McWilliams

Feature Photo by Raka Miftah: https://www.pexels.com/photo/brown-eggs-on-a-concrete-surface-4216386/

Inset photo by Mary McWilliams

Massman, Joseph. Nervousness, Temperament and the Soul. Roman Catholic Books: Fort Collins, CO, 1941.

 

The Power of The Cross: Embracing Peace & Unrest

By Kimberly Novak

 

I don’t know about you, but this season of Lent felt very long to me. It could be because I gave up coffee, and I’m undercaffeinated. Quite possibly though, if Lent has felt long for you, it is most likely because, over the past several weeks, we have sacrificed and taken our sufferings to the cross.

As we prepare for the cross, our prayers are heavy, burdens are recognized and lifted, reconciliation is hoped for, and the realization of Jesus’ death is imminent. All of which are heavy, draining, and exhausting to our prayer life. 

But we made it, and today is Good Friday, a day in which some churches allow us to kiss our hand and touch the cross, paying our highest honor to our Lord for His love and sacrifice. This loving gesture enables us to leave our sufferings on the crucifix through our physical touch. Often, when we can bring into action spiritual symbolism, like touching the cross, it resonates deeper within us and brings us closer to God in that moment.  

Venerating the cross is an opportunity to accept a commission from the Lord in this blessed moment. If your church allows, kiss your hand and touch the cross; otherwise, you can whisper to God in your heart.  

Some ways this can be accomplished are:

  • If there is something you struggled to surrender during this Lenten season, “Leave it at the cross.”
  • Surrender any regrets of failed Lenten promises, and “Kiss or whisper them to God.”
  • Prayerfully share your deepest need at the cross and “Kiss or whisper it to God.”
  • Prayerfully accept God’s call and “Open your heart to God.”

Unfortunately, not all churches incorporate this gesture into the Good Friday service. In that case, a simple, imaginative prayer can be just as intimate. 

I’ve been anticipating this day throughout Lent, with an expectant wonder of where my emotions will take me. After I suffered a traumatic brain injury a year ago, God gave me visions of His crown of thorns, which both comforted me and brought me peace. I knew God had not left me alone in those first two days, and the visions were His way of letting me know He was there. Shortly after those visions, I met with my pastor to try to gain insight into why God blessed me so richly. His words of encouragement were to pray for discernment into what God wants me to do with it. 

Since then, when I see the image of Jesus’ crown, I can only wonder where God is leading me. Looking upon the crown brings me peace or unrest, depending on what is happening in my life. For example, when I am anxious or need God’s presence, looking upon His crown and the reminder of His sacrifice is calming. If the image of the crown is graphic, showing His blood, it brings a sense of unsettledness and anticipation, as if this is a sign that something not so pleasant is on the horizon. 

I’ll never forget the feeling of surrender when God showed himself to me through his crown of thorns. Feeling His love and peace in such a chaotic moment was a precious gift. Jesus’ gift to us on the cross signifies the acceptance of suffering, hope, and a willingness to bear burdens. The same is true for us when we are up against the sufferings of this world, just as I had been through that traumatic injury. 

I have not been given any lightbulb moments other than to take opportunities like this one and briefly share the experience when appropriate. I eagerly await my turn on Good Friday, placing my hand physically or imaginatively on the cross and offering up the blessing of my visions for God’s glory! I pray for the openness, vulnerability, humility, and courage to accept His call.

I pray for blessings on you and your family on this Blessed day. May you be open and willing to accept God’s call, bringing His light and love into your hearts and homes. May God richly bless you this Easter and throughout the year.  

 

Be blessed & Happy Easter,

Kimberly

 

 

 

©️ Kimberly Novak 2025

 

Edited by Janet Tamez

Road through valley. Mountain in background.

Lessons in Compassion

Lessons in Compassion

What brings you to Jesus?

In New Testament times, people flocked to Jesus seeking something they lacked—health, freedom, power, peace, or hope.

The Gospels share numerous stories of people with various ailments hoping to be healed. What depth of faith must they have possessed to leave home and endure the discomfort of travel for only a chance of being made well? Suffering, afraid, broken, and probably having exhausted every avenue of healing they knew—when all they had tried failed—they sought this man. Stories of His healings, the miracles, the unexplained, but most importantly the hope drew them to come and see. No one like Jesus existed before; two thousand years later, we can say no one like Jesus has existed since.

Word spread about Jesus from town to town and over great distances, even without social media. But when people came out to see Him, what expectations did they have?

Whatever prompted them, they came in droves, sometimes by the thousands. In Matthew’s Gospel (14:12-21), we read how they crowded the banks where Jesus disembarked from a boat then they scattered across the land, each hoping to find a place to see and more importantly hear this mysterious miracle man. Were they simply discontent by their circumstances—spiritually, economically, politically? Was it just curiosity? Was the arduous trek worth it?

How often do you contemplate the value of the Sunday excursion to Mass versus staying cozy in bed after an exhausting week? Maybe it is not as dramatic as a desert journey, but the stirring to be close to Jesus which moves us into action remains the same.

Jesus provides.

Moved to pity by the multitudes, Jesus seized this opportunity to do what He did best: teach and heal. He cured the sick and spent the day among these people. He tirelessly ministered, touching many hearts, converting many souls, and stirring the desire of many to become disciples.

On this wonderful day, the crowds found abundant things in this location: grace, hope, mercy, tenderness, love . . . however, food was lacking and evening approached. Jesus had provided sustenance of mind and spirit, but could He also provide for the body? How many thought to themselves, Could He be the answer to everything we need?

As the day came to a close, the Apostles approached the Master and entreated Him to dismiss the crowds. In the presence of such greatness, witnessing things they’d never seen before, they would not likely leave of their own accord.

Woman on mountain top.A mountain-top experience.

How often have you had a mountain-top experience, one of those splendid, special days you never want to end? How many gathered around Jesus that day, like Peter at the Transfiguration, wished the day to go on forever?

Instead of dispersing the crowd as the Apostles requested, Jesus ordered the crowd to be seated, and He blessed the five fish and two loaves of bread. Seated, the people were at rest, the burden of the day and their hunger lifted by a simple command. In this short time with Jesus, they learned to trust Him. They yoked themselves to the teachings of this Rabbi, this teacher.

Come to me, all who labor, hunger, and thirst. Jesus promises to take the burden upon himself, and give you rest. We see that promise in the command to be seated. Do you see Jesus’ promises as trustworthy? If you had been there, would you have sat and waited on Him to act, or would you have doubted and gone to care for your own needs?

Taking the sparse offerings of the five fish and two loaves, Jesus Himself presents them to the Father, blesses them, and breaks them — dividing them among those who put their trust in Him to provide. There is not only enough to feed those present, but twelve bushels of fragments are left, collected, and distributed to others in need.

When we seek what Jesus offers, we are given rest.

We are filled with more than we need and left with some to distribute to others who also need, but who have perhaps not yet realized what Jesus is offering. Seeking Jesus is always worth the effort.

 

Copyright 2025 by Allison Gingras

Edited by Theresa Linden

Freedom to Love

Freedom to Love

“For you were called for freedom, brothers. But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love.”– Galatians 5:13 (NABRE)

Our culture says many things about freedom. It says freedom is the ability to do anything we want. It says freedom is acting on our own selfish desires no matter how it affects others. It says that if we are not allowed to act on every impulse, then we are not truly free.

But as Catholics, we have a different definition. Freedom is the ability to do what we ought. It is knowing the right thing and choosing to do it, no matter the cost to us. It is controlling our sin-corrupted desires and surrendering to what God wants, not what we want.

At the heart, we can’t have love if we don’t have freedom—and vice versa. Freedom is a condition of love, but if we don’t choose to love, we’re not really free. If we want to be truly free—and say no to being enslaved to all the passing power, wealth, and pleasure the world offers us—we must have a deeper yes: the yes to love God and love others as He loves.

And God’s love isn’t the fleeting, pleasure-driven feeling the culture defines it as. God’s love is the nitty-gritty, self-giving, all-the-way-to-the-Cross kind of love. God’s love means sacrifice. . . so that’s how we are called to love: by serving others and sacrificing our own desires and selves to do so.

Because freedom means love, and love means sacrifice.

So, this Lent, how will you choose freedom over slavery? How will you choose to love God and love how He loves? What sacrifices will you make?

© Isabelle Wood 2025

Edited by Gabriella Batel

Balancing in Thin Air

Balancing in Thin Air

If you’ve never experienced vertigo, be thankful. It is unpleasant to say the least. Over the last few years, I’ve been grappling with recurring bouts of vestibular neuritis, a fancy word for damage to the inner ear system, causing severe spinning, dizziness, nausea, motion sensitivity, and loss of balance. New life phase, new challenge.

Before vertigo, I floundered to manage work and family responsibilities; before that, it was life as a newlywed, life in college, and high school days. Well, you get the picture. When my resources were spread thin and it seemed there was no air to breathe, finding spiritual equilibrium became even more critical than regaining physical balance.

Two lessons from my father gave me a better perspective during times of imbalance.

One prayer I learned from him—Lord, let me never stray far from You, but if I start to wander, pull me back—helped me visualize a lifesaving rope tied around my waist. I felt safe knowing that as long as I didn’t cut the rope, God was at the other end and would not let go of me. I didn’t need to walk a tightrope alone. Secondly, one of Daddy’s favorite scriptures helped me imagine that I was one of the birds Matthew spoke of and that God would always take care of me:

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?”—Matthew 6:26

I’ve shared this verse many times and eventually wrote the poem below as I considered what it means to be the bird.

Life will always present situations that upset my current balance and sometimes whoosh the air from my lungs. When I remember these simple lessons from my father, attend Mass, and receive the sacraments, I find that I’m not suffocating anymore. I stand steady and straight. I can breathe again.

 

Become the Bird

by Paula Veloso Babadi

“Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. . . ”—Matthew 6:26

 

When air is thin

breathe out

breathe in.

 

Breathe in

beauty

and truth.

Breathe out

despair

and fear.

 

Into thin air

disperse

your sighs,

and

out of thin air

become the bird.

 

Copyright 2025 Paula Veloso Babadi

Edited by Gabriella Batel

statue of angel

Memento Mori

Teach us to count our days aright,
that we may gain wisdom of heart.
(Psalm 90:12). (1)

Memento Mori

When I was growing up, “Remember your death” was an almost universal expression of Christian practice during Lent.

Parents taught their children that we are “ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” My own mother, and a variety of other mature women I knew then, quipped their excuses for not mopping under beds with the old joke, “My friends might be down there, visiting me today.”

It’s human nature to fantasize that we are the exceptions, that we will never wrinkle and decline, that we ourselves will never die. The elders then were offering us as children an essential grounding in reality.

Last September, I lost my beloved husband of almost 50 years

Although I recognized our advancing age, decreasing energy, and the burgeoning of necessary medical checkups, I shied away from his earnest attempts to provide me with important survival information.

My response was bright-eyed and cheery. “But we’re not going to die,” I kept telling him. “At least, not yet.”

I know he showed me where he was hiding the outdoor emergency house key … Five months later, the kids and I still haven’t been able to find it. Fortunately, we had other keys.

A massive heart attack, caused by blockage in the LAD, left artery descending, took Charles away from us far too soon. This silent and deadly killer is nicknamed “the widow maker” by medical professionals, for good reason.

I’m deeply thankful for the memory that last April, he raced me across the parking lot at St. Thomas the Apostle Church in Tucson, right after we had received Eucharist together on Easter Sunday. I’ll never forget his grin when he beat me to the car.

Despite my evasion, a spiritual call to prayer for the dying does run in my maternal family line. I experienced it even in my Methodist childhood, with elderly family members “checking in” as their time of passing neared.

Once I was confirmed in the Roman Catholic Church in 1989, insistent calls to pray for fellow parishioners, and even total strangers, drew me to the Adoration Chapel more and more often.

After a while, I began to notice that every time I felt a particular call to prayer, the same people were already there, or coming through the door right behind me; each of us always with a rosary in our hands.

At a Catholic Life in the Spirit conference held at Notre Dame University in 1998, I heard a speaker on the topic of charismatic gifts say, “Here’s a terrible one – knowing when people are going to die.”

I disagree. It’s a beautiful gift in the Body of Christ, a blessing that Our Lord pours through us, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

These calls to prayer mean that someone who loves us knows when we’re coming home; someone is lighting a candle in the window to guide us and welcome us; someone is calling companions together to support us. The transportation provided for that journey is prayer.

Every time any member of the Church prays a rosary, aren’t we asking the Blessed Mother for this very assistance at the time of our own deaths?

Catholics who respond to a felt call, to pray a rosary for others, are serving Mother Mary as her hands here on earth.

Has this understanding spared me any of the dreadful earthly experiences that follow the sudden death of a spouse — the incapacitating waves of grief, the hollow feeling of emptiness, the seemingly endless sleepless nights – the lawyers, bankers, and brokers, with their complicated rules and reams of paperwork – the daunting responsibilities to console grieving children and grandchildren, and to navigate the family through a disorienting new universe?

No. I have not been spared any of these.

But I’m grateful that, by mystical grace, I was granted the privilege to be with my husband, in prayer, at the time of his death; with God’s love swirling around us and through us both. That, for me, is everything.

T.S. Eliott wrote, in the concluding lines of his profoundly religious poem Ash Wednesday:

“When the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away,
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.
… Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
… Spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated
And let my cry come unto Thee.” (2)

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us now, and at the hour of our death.

Amen.

Notes:
1. https://bible.usccb.org/bible/psalms/90
2. https://englishverse.com/poems/ash_wednesday © 2003-2025 English Verse

Copyright by Margaret King Zacharias, February 15, 2025.

Feature photo used by permission of the author.

Some Contemplative Poets

Some Contemplative Poets:

Gerard Manley Hopkins, St. John of the Cross, Thomas Merton, and Emily Dickinson

Contemplative poetry: is it something to define, or something to enter?
Is it something one knows when one feels it, or when one is told about it?
Is a contemplative poet known by reputation, or discovered by surprise?

The contemplative poet might be the one knocked silly by the discovery of having written such a surprising poem.

The soul is called into a contemplative quiet. The inward aching yearns for words to convey what cannot be said. Only prayer would do, no other art, apart from poetry.

Perhaps Gerard Manley Hopkins steps from a grove of birch trees to dazzle your soul with poetic rapture. Maybe Emily Dickinson will pat the place beside her on the wooden bench in the garden and recite poems while staring into your eyes. Thomas Merton would surely grin and wink and say nothing, while St. John might move his lips softly and tap his foot.

 

Pied Beauty
by Gerard Manley Hopkins

Glory be to God for dappled things –
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal, chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pierced – fold, fallow, and plough;
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.
All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change;

Praise him.

 

Dark Night of the Soul (excerpt):
by St. John of the Cross

In darkness, and secure,
by the secret ladder, disguised,
– ah, the sheer grace! –
in darkness and concealment,
my house being now all stilled.
On that glad night
in secret, for no one saw me,
nor did I look at anything
with no other light or guide
than the One that burned in my heart.

 

The Song of the Traveler (excerpt)
by Thomas Merton

How light the heavy world becomes, when with transparent waters
All the shy elms and wakeful apple trees are dressed!
How the sun shouts, and spins his wheel of flame
And shoots the whole land full of diamonds
Enriching every Flower’s watery vesture with his praise,
O green spring mornings when we hear creation singing!

I think that some poems of Emily Dickenson belong with this esteemed company. She wrote poems of exemplary contemplative power and illumination. Yet those poems, like Emily herself, may have been overlooked or misunderstood by some.

564
by Emily Dickenson

My period had come for Prayer –
No other Art – would do –
My Tactics missed a rudiment –
Creator – Was it you?
God grows above – so those who pray
Horizons – must ascend –
And so I stepped upon the North
To see this Curious Friend –
His House was not – no sign had He –
By Chimney – nor by Door
Could I infer his Residence –
Vast Prairies of Air
Unbroken by a settler –
Were all that I could see –
Infinitude – Had’st Thou no Face
That I might look on Thee?
The Silence condescended –
Creation stopped – for Me –
But awed beyond my errand –
I worshipped – did not “pray”-

674
by Emily Dickenson

The Soul that hath a Guest
Doth seldom go abroad –
Diviner Crowd at Home –
Obliterate the need –
And Courtesy forbid

A Host’s departure when
Upon Himself be visiting
The Emperor of Men –

1495
by Emily Dickenson

The Thrill came slowly like a Boon
for Centuries delayed
Its fitness growing like the Flood
In sumptuous solitude-
The desolation only missed
While Rapture changed its Dress
And stood amazed before the Change
In ravished Holiness —

I think the spirituality of Emily Dickenson is often misinterpreted, particularly the roots of her poems in contemplative silence. Some consider her reserved lifestyle as an emotional or social deficit, rather than a monastic style choice, like those of St. John or Thomas Merton. A personal indwelling must precede the composition of a poem that shimmers with the presence of Another. In poetry, as in prayer, we seek to savor the illuminating presence of that Vital Word who is our friend.

1039
by Emily Dickenson

I heard, as if I had no Ear
Until a Vital Word
Came all the way from Life to me
And then I knew I heard.
I saw, as if my Eye were on
Another, till a Thing

And now I know ‘twas Light. Because
It fitted them, and came in.
I dwelt, as if Myself were out,
My Body but within
Until a Might detected me
And set my kernel in.
And Spirit turned unto the Dust
“Old Friend, thou knowest me,”
And Time went out to tell the News
And met Eternity.

820
by Emily Dickenson

All Circumstances are the frame
In which His face is set –
All Latitudes exist for His
Sufficient Continent –
The Light His action, and the Dark
The Leisure of His Will –
In Him Existence serve or set
A Force illegible.

And how about you? How does the indwelling spirit of God inspire contemplation and the emergence of prayerful writing in your life?

copyright 2025 Tom Medlar

Parent tossing child in the air on a beach at sunset.

God’s Got Our Back

God’s Got Our Back

I went to Confession hungry—hungry for something I couldn’t articulate at the time, but God knew and satisfied that unnamed gnawing through one of His kind priests.  Monsignor Ignacio gave me the penance of learning Psalm 139.  He told me how much God loved me and that, if I prayed this psalm, I would know absolutely just how deeply God knows, accepts, and loves me. I think I cried all the way home, realizing that, despite my faults, imperfections, and self-doubts, someone—God—could love me so completely.

I went on to memorize excerpts from that psalm and prayed it every morning for a while. I shared copies with friends and family.  I even wrote it down on scratch paper during a plane ride to visit my daughter and gave it to a misty-eyed young man sitting next to me. He cried.

Eventually, I stopped the daily morning recitation and drifted into a rhythm of aimless newly retired life. But I was hungry again. I was preparing to offer a workshop at our local Catholic Writers Guild meeting. “Writing with Intent” aimed at sharing tips and tools to kick-start or rejuvenate the writing life. At that time, chapter members ranged from new writers to seasoned authors. What could I possibly offer that would appeal to and encompass such a range of needs?  I began to worry and stress over the presentation.

That’s when Psalm 139 surfaced again. When we are hungry, God’s words speak to our hearts. Whether new to the pen and unsure of intent or seasoned with countless pages and seeking fresh perspectives, as Catholic writers, we need to know, without a doubt, that God loves us and has got our back. It is He Who guides our writing and satiates our hunger when we ask.

“Probe me, God, know my heart;

try me, know my concern.

See if my way is crooked,

then lead me in the ancient paths.”—Psalm 139: 23–24

The reading and meditation on excerpts from Psalm 139 set the introductory tone for the workshop, which was well received by all.  God was right there for me and them. Then and now.

Excerpts from Psalm 139

 

Lord, You have probed me, You know me:

You know when I sit and stand;

You understand my thoughts from afar.

My travels and my rest You mark;

with all my ways You are familiar.

Even before a word is on my tongue,

Lord, You know it all.

Behind and before, You encircle me

and rest Your hand upon me.

. . . 

If I fly with the wings of dawn

and alight beyond the sea,

even there Your hand will guide me,

Your right hand hold me fast.

. . .

You formed my inmost being;

You knit me in my mother’s womb.

I praise You, so wonderfully You made me;

wonderful are Your works!

. . .

How precious to me are Your designs, O God;

how vast the sum of them!

Were I to count, they would outnumber the sands;

to finish, I would need eternity.

. . .

Probe me, God, know my heart;

try me, know my concern.

See if my way is crooked,

then lead me in the ancient paths.

 

—Psalm 139: 1–5, 9–10, 13–14, 17–18, 23–24

St. Joseph Edition of The New American Bible

 

© Paula Veloso Babadi 2025

Edited by Gabriella Batel

When not playing pickleball or “Nana,” Paula Veloso Babadi cooks, gardens, and writes poetry and short personal essays. You can find her first book-length collection, Everywhere Hope, at amazon.com.

Christ Sends Apostles Out in Pairs Anonymous Dutch Painting, Public Domain

Two by Two

Jesus summoned the Twelve and began to send them out two by two. (Mark 6:7)

 

Two by two. Not alone. Not in a group. Jesus sent out the twelve two by two.

Jesus could have sent the disciples out on their own. After all, there would come a time when they would each go their own way — James to Spain, Thomas to present-day Iran, Andrew to Greece, John to Asia, Matthew to Africa, and so on. He could have told them that this first sending out was meant to prepare them for what was to come. He could have told them that there are times in life when they would feel and be alone, and they would have nobody to turn to or consult or just talk to.

Likewise, He could have sent them in two groups of six or three groups of four. There’s safety in numbers. Plus, groups of young men traveling around the globe attracting audiences have always been popular, right?

 

Two Are Better than One

Instead, Jesus sent them two by two. He knew that two is better than one, and often two work better than a group. In Ecclesiastes, we read,

Two are better than one … If the one falls, the other will help the fallen one. But woe to the solitary person! If that one should fall, there is no other to help. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

C.S. Lewis takes it even farther. He tells us in the introduction to  Athanasius’ On The Incarnation, “Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction.” Two people are more accountable and hold each other accountable. They recognize when one is going off course and can steer each other to the right place, be it a safe harbor or a challenging cliff that can only be climbed together.

 

Finding A Second

For several years, I have thought about whether I need a spiritual advisor. Of course, being human and being the independent, forge ahead at all costs person I am, I’ve always laughed it off as something I don’t need and certainly don’t have time for! I never stopped to think that maybe I don’t have time for one because I’m not making the time or because I’m not where I’m meant to be and am too busy running around to see it.

More and more, this concept of having someone else in my spiritual corner — someone to help me when I’m falling, when I’m off course, when I need help — has been weighing more and more on my heart. I finally reached out to a friend who is a spiritual advisor and asked her opinion. As expected, she told me that “the Holy Spirit is a nudger worth listening to.”

In sending the Apostles out two by two, Jesus affirmed the view of two people working together to help each other out, to receive help when one falls, and direction when off-course, to further the Kingdom. If Jesus felt that this was the best way to go about our missions and bring His Word to the world, who am I to try to make the journey solo?

 

Christ Sends Apostles Out in Pairs Anonymous Dutch Painting, Public Domain

Christ Sends Apostles Out in Pairs Anonymous Dutch Painting, Public Domain

 

We Can’t Do It Alone

So they went off and preached repentance. The Twelve drove out many demons, and they anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. (Mark 6:12-13)

As two together, the Apostles experienced the fruits of the Holy Spirit. They were successful, doing as Jesus told them, and healing may of their afflictions, both spiritual and physical. Perhaps they would not have been able to accomplish this on their own. Even after Jesus died, and they were to carry on the mission, they needed the Holy Spirit to descend upon them and grace them with confidence and ability. They couldn’t do it alone.

My brothers and sisters, if you are pondering where to turn for guidance and companionship on your spiritual journey, know that you are not alone and that you aren’t meant to be. If not a spiritual advisor, seek someone who will share the mission with you, be there when you fall, and steer you in the right direction. Two are better than one.

“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” (Matthew 18:20)

 

Let us pray: Lord, I ask you to open my heart and my mind to the nudging of the Holy Spirit. I pray that you lead me to the person you have chosen as my spiritual partner. Help us to further Your Kingdom as we walk two by two. Amen.


Copyright 2025 Amy Schisler