Monday, August 31, 2020

How much do I want God? (Fr. James Martin)


  During our pilgrimage to the Holy Land last year, my friend George and I ended up in the desert.  And it was hot… Brutally hot.  Bakingly hot.  Unbelievably hot.

  At one point, George and I trudged through a desert ravine, in order to reach the Monastery of St. George.  It was so hot and dry that I thought one or both of us would pass out.  And the line from today’s psalm came to mind:  O God, you are my God whom I seek; for you my flesh pines and my soul thirsts, like the earth, parched and lifeless without water. Actually, the whole line didn’t come to mind:  I was too hot to think!  Just the part about my soul desiring God as much as the dry land.

  How much do I want God?  I remember thinking.

  How much do I want God?  As much as I did when I was thirsting in the desert and would have given anything for a long cold drink of grape juice, or a mouthful of Cherry Slurpee?  As much as that deer seemed to long for water in that painting, his head bent down, completely intent on lapping up a cool drink?  I wonder.  Sometimes I end up not praying as much as I want to, or even, to use a loaded word, should.

  Why is that?  I have a work ethic that gets me to my desk every day at 9 a.m. without fail.  What’s my prayer ethic?  How much do I want God? 
--Fr. James Martin, Facebook, June 2, 2012

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