Longing for the Lord

Prayer is one of those essential elements of our faith that we likely talk and write and think about more than we actually do.

Nor, for the record, am I excusing myself from that statement. Prayer is something I could do more and write about less. Maybe with care, this column will count as some of each.

Liturgy—the public prayer and worship of the church—is the summit of our community of believers. But we turn to prayer because, at the core of human longing and need, there is a need only God can fill. That is the need that we face in the darkness, in pain but also in the joy of our relationship with God and with people.

Catholics have a rich tradition of prayer, ageless words molded and shaped by countless generations of believers.

We “hail, Mary, full of grace …” just as we “… confess to Almighty God and to you our brothers and sisters ….” These are words of faith and tradition. Other prayers are less eloquent, less polished. Yet these deeply-felt words may connect us more completely to our God. They are the cries of the soul.

Even our mode of prayer can differ. We bow heads and close eyes, or raise arms and hands to the Lord. We strike our breasts in unworthiness like the biblical scribe, or joyously shout our praise. Neither is necessarily better—or worse—than the other. Each achieves the goal: a connection beyond ourselves.

Each year, people who have contributed to the Annual Catholic Appeal are invited to express their prayer intentions, those hopes and dreams closest to their hearts.

The Annual Catholic Appeal is that special collection taken through the parishes which helps Cardinal George fund archdiocesan ministries that serve thousands of people in many ways.

Past contributors receive a card asking them to write down their intentions. It doesn’t matter whether a donation is sent. During November, each card is confidentially taken to the private chapel in Cardinal George’s residence where he celebrates daily Mass. Cardinal George—as did Cardinal Bernardin before him—remembers those prayers in his own prayer.

That’s a special connection I know the cardinal shares with the people of the Archdiocese of Chicago. His column in The Catholic New World frequently closes, as it does this issue, with words like “I will keep you in my prayers; please keep me in yours.” That is a sense I know he considers very important.

This year’s clutch of cards, already delivered to a basket in his chapel, are full of intentions. They are, of course, kept confidential. I asked to get a sense of peoples’ prayers—without names. I was impressed, and touched, by their directness.

There was a general sense of thankfulness to a loving and caring God. And there were heartfelt pleas for spiritual assistance.

Fittingly, in these distressed times, many of the intentions sought the peace of the Lord for the world. And, as a parent, I can appreciate the sentiment of several that the gift of faith be received by their children. Many others expressed the hope for a healing—physical, emotional and even financial—of a family member.

Most poignant, perhaps, were those which dealt with the loneliness of losing a loving spouse, or the nearness of death.

These are the prayers—and the hopes and fears—of the human condition. They are the core of relationship, with each other and, even more important, with God. My prayers, too, emboldened by the unashamed needs of so many people, go with that basket of longing in the cardinal’s chapel. I’m sure they will be heard.

NOTE: This issue of The Catholic New World went to press before the polls closed. Our next edition will reflect on the election.

Tom Sheridan
Editor and General Manager