Meditation for August 6, The Transfiguration

On certain days prayer is very difficult for me. Then again at rare intervals, it is so easy that I almost believe I am on Mt. Thabor; I willingly remain at prayer, for time passes without my being aware of it. My experience is somewhat similar, though in a lesser degree, to that of the monk in a legend. He was the porter of an old monastery in a forest. One day, hearing a bird sing, he went out of doors to hear it more clearly. Upon reentering the monastery, he found that he no longer recognized any faces...a hundred years had rolled away during the song of the bird.

That is poetry. Daily reality is sterner beyond a doubt. There is no captivating warbling--only faith, and most often, a faith without consolation, demanding a generous unfolding of all my powers, a generous persevering effort.

With God's grace I will try to recognize that everything comes from Him. Earth is earth. Normally I must seek the Master gropingly, my arms stretched out in the inky night; God is a hidden God. But I shall have all eternity to enjoy the Vision of Him.

If God permits me to remain powerless, a prey to distraction, I shall remember that such is the common lot; that I do not deserve to sit at the banquet, but should receive only the crumbs as my por­tion. And then, I will wait, not listless and weary, but alert and intensely alive to grace, unfolding all my powers to receive it, not through eagerness for sweetness but that I may never let a single grace slip by.

"Treat me, O Lord, as You wish. I do not ask for Your consolations but Your strength. If you have any seeds of sweetness to impart to me, weak child that I am, You will be good to think of me. I rely on Your Providence.

"Give me the grace to know how to remain steadfast in the absence of these sensible consolations, or in the intervals between them, and to persevere no matter what comes."

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Adapted from Meditations for Religious
by Father Raoul Plus, S.J. (© 1939, Frederick Pustet Co.)