Monday of Week 27 in Ordinary Time
Mid-Morning Prayer - Cohort 14 - Aquinas Institute
Psalm 71
A Reading from St. Ambrose (Office of Readings)
Lord, open my lips
R/ And my mouth will proclaim your praise
I like to imagine that our
relationship with words began
From the beginning
with the first ones ever to
hit our ears
I like to imagine a new
mother,
Exhausted after a long labor,
Whispering…“You are
beautiful”
From the very beginning
Biblical imagery speaks IN
and OF the creative power of words
Especially in the psalms and
proverbs
Where we hear over and over
of the power of what is
formed in the mouth
crafted by the tongue
and passes over the lips…to
whatever ears may be listening
and half the time these
biblical words give a stern warning…
Words cut both ways
St. Ambrose
Compels us to pray often
But…also warns
don’t let it get tedious
Let your words and prayer be
imbued with forgiveness
It sounds like that might be
his antidote for tedium.
Two thoughts about words have
been occupying me this week
1) The conjuring power of Words
And
2) The mysterious power of words detached from the
speaker’s control
My husband always teases me
about my favorite word
Every time we go to a
restaurant and there is something on the menu
With Prosciutto
I have to order it
One reason is because I love
the salty deliciousness
But the other is that I just
want to say it
Prosciutto
Prosciutto
Prosciutto
It is such a fun word
The mouth and the tongue have
to collaborate in its formation
And then the ticklish joy of
how it rolls over my lips
But there is so much more.
When I was 23
freshly graduated from
college
And waiting for my job to
begin in Atlanta
I found myself with two weeks
of free time
My sister and I desperately wanted to go to Italy
And we were both desperately broke
We hatched a plan
My Dad travelled so much for
his work
That he had racked up a vault
of Frequent Flyer Miles
So we would go to Dad and say
Dad, the last thing you’d
want to do on your free time is get on another plane…right?
How bout we help take some of
those FF miles off your hands
…in 1983 they were
transferable;)
Of course he obliged…on one
condition
“You must visit Corinaldo”
Corinaldo
Was this mythic place of
origin for the Bavaria family
a small town in the region of
Marche
Where both my grandparents
were from
Corinaldo is the town of
Santa Maria Goretti
Who, legend says, babysat for
my Mommom
St. Maria held special
prominence in our family’s collective Catholic imagination.
It was a deal.
Celeste and I rented a car
and eventually drove from Rome to Corinaldo.
As we approached we saw the
small medieval walled town
Atop this rolling hill
There was a lively welcome
Clearly Dad had given them
advance notice
And my cousin Timo and his
wife, Maria Paulo
Took us to their home where
we would stay.
We crossed through the
kitchen
And in the middle of their
old wooden kitchen table
Was this large prosciutto
And stuck in the middle was a
carving knife and fork
The prosciutto was there,
standing ready to meet the
needs of tall who passed by
Day or night
So when I see or hear the
word prosciutto
Not only do I think of salty
deliciousness
But of Corinaldo
And ancient stone walls
I remember the grotto to Santa
Maria Goretti
I remember cousins and family
with whom I have no language in common
And it all becomes present again
A fresh gift of
nourishment, family, heritage,
faith
when I hear the word
Prosciutto
Or see it on a menu
What happens to me is
Anamnesis
The conjuring power of PROSCIUTTO!
My mother in law…I called her
Mimi
Everyone called her Mimi
Was especially devoted to the
Blessed Mother
Her own mother died when she
was just a girl
And from then she took on an
early motherly role
As she cared for her younger
brother and father
She prayed the rosary every
night
Since anyone could remember
How my father in law loved to
tell the
Wedding Night Rosary Story;)
She died in 1993 from
Supra-Nuclear Palsy
A degenerative neurological
Disease
Most devastating for the
slowness of its progression
The first thing to be
affected was language
And speech
So, she might want to say
banana
But it would come out as
yogurt
Or bathroom and it would come
out closet
But every night when Deedee
Pulled out their matching rosaries
And began the prayers
She followed
Without a hitch…not missing a
word
I had seen her devotion to
the Rosary as admirable
A wonderful pious habit that
structured her life
I saw it that way
Until she lost control of her
speech
Then, her prayer
Become something else
entirely
Now I wondered
Who is speaking?
What is this testimony?
Where is it coming from?
Who is it for?
Could it be for me???
She was testifying to a life
of prayer
NOT a perfect life
She was a tough lady
Controlling and difficult
But she WAS faithful
And as she prayed those last
years
Those prayers were the only
words that communicated
They came from her heart, her
muscle, her spirit
From everywhere except her brain
Which
would have scrambled them all
up
had it the chance
There is a mysterious life to words way after they
leave the speaker.
Words are powerful
And they are most certainly a
double-edged sword
They may reflect life or
death
Or they may be safe and passionless and blah
For this preacher this is not
just challenging
It is frightening!
But WHAT IF
What if our words of worship
and praise and proclamation and preaching
What if all of our God-Talk
Came from our gut, and heart,
and body….and mind?
WHAT IF
What if all that talk
All those words
conjured a palpable story deep
within us?
WHAT IF
And what if that story is none
other than our
simple story of falling in
love with God
Our Exodus story
about how God
Reached out and took us by
the hand
How God set us free…
A real love story,
not all sweetness and light
But a paschal story
urgent AND forgiving
A story that goes through crosses
And touches resurrection
A story made present in our
preaching and living
Over and over again?
WHAT IF…
