Joy in the Morning?

[Note: My essay from The Liguorian is now posted to my website (click on "essays"). If you are new to my blog, that essay is a good place to see my perspective. If you are unfamiliar with the rosary or how it is prayed, see prior posts for the prayers, framework, and biblical references.]

Up to now, I have been quite the pedant here, didactically telling you what to do to and how to do it. While that's certainly fun and all, not to mention easier, I now step out uncertainly into the realm of prayer. Away from how toward why and what, from the quantitative to the qualitative, from works to faith.

We think of prayer as a means to communicate with God, but the word communication indicates sharing, listening--dialogue, not monologue. However, if you look up prayer in the Oxford English Dictionary (Queen Mother of all dictionaries), every definition has to do with entreaty, with asking God's help. Take it a step further and you have the one-way conversation we all fear, where you can just see God playing Celestial Solitaire, jamming with the iPod while you blather on. If you Google the word, though, you get the more connotative, intuitive meaning of prayer as communication with God. Which brings us to the central problem of prayer: How can we differentiate God's voice from our own? When I talk about my day with God as though God were a friend, how can I be certain that the responses I think I hear come from God and not from my own ever-present, insistent, strident imagination clamoring for attention?

That is where the rosary helps me to transcend my selfish, mucked-up narrow view. So now, on to the Joyful Mysteries, one at a time (just the first one today, though): The Annunciation, wherein the angel Gabriel announces that Mary has been chosen as Theotokos, God-bearer. Quite an honor, especially for a humble girl living under the hairy thumb of Roman occupation.

We Protestants tend to think about Jesus' birth in December, mostly, when it's easy to see and feel the joy in this scene, the hope. Mama to the Messiah! Does it get any better than that? Within the context and excess of our modern Christmas orgies, this angelic visit glitters with starry-eyed optimism. Until I began to pray the rosary, I never really looked at it from Mary's view, immersed as I always was with the holiday hoopla.

She's young, we know that, probably no more than 13 or 14. A virgin still, promised in marriage to a man much older. Poor. Jewish. Born into oppression, this girl-child finds herself facing an unplanned pre-marriage pregnancy. Her thoughts, at first anyway, had to be skeptical. We get a glimpse of her spunk when she reminds the angel that she is a virgin, but before Gabriel heads back to heaven, this courageous young woman graces us with that handmaiden of the Lord thing. We see her spirit as well as her spunk.

In a temporal world with limited choices, hemmed in by gender, ethnicity, and poverty, Mary says yes to Gabriel, yes to God. It's not logical. It's not rational. I'm glad she's not my daughter. But I love the girl's sweet, steely defiance.

The Annunciation is pregnant (pardon the pun:) with meaning.

What do you think of when you remember the angel's night-time visit to Mary?

Traditionally, each set of Mysteries is assigned to a specific day of the week, and everybody pretty much agrees on Monday through Friday as I've outlined below. Weekends are less structured, and appear to depend on the liturgical season, an "Aha!" element I use to remember those ritualistic, slightly arbitrary divisions of the Christian year according to Christ's life. While I don't always adhere to the schedule--sometimes I want to pray about sorrow on a Monday, or joy on a Wednesday--I love the spontaneous connections that occur when I do pray according to the day.

Monday: Joyful Mysteries
Tuesday: Sorrowful Mysteries
Wednesday: Glorious Mysteries
Thursday: Luminous Mysteries
Friday: Sorrowful Mysteries

Monday isn't generally my most joyful day, and Friday's fun can't come soon enough. Considering joy on a Monday is a little out of the ordinary, a little uncomfortable. And therefore memorable. Thinking of Jesus' Passion every Friday is a lovely tribute to his sacrifice, but other than Good Friday, without the rosary, I seriously doubt I'd remember that very often. Praying by intent rather than by emotion is at the heart of how the rosary works for me. Praying becomes more like spiritual discipline, less like conversation.

On the weekend days, I remember the seasons of the church, an exercise in spiritual nostalgia that places me squarely in the Rosiclare United Methodist Church, a small congregation with a big heart, where the altar vestments change with the liturgical season: gold for Epiphany, the three kings, one of whom brought gold; red for Pentecost, tongues of fire; white for Christmas and Easter, holy and pure; purple for Lent and Advent, juxtaposing pain with royalty; a nice functional green for the boring time from Pentecost to Advent, known as Kingdomtide.

I learned to read both music and poetry through escaping to the hymnal during boring sermons, and I am still pretty amazing when it comes to making words out of the letters in the sermon title. My world is richer for the grand old hymns, spirituals, ethnically diverse worship choruses, staples like "Showers of Blessing" and "Just As I Am"; and the responsive readings and sacramental forms gave a sense of connection to other Christians, a feeling I find in the rosary as well.

The altar vestments are part of that rich heritage, like the familiar smells of the sanctuary. Old wood, old books, old ladies' perfume and hairspray. The love of that community envelops me when I pray the rosary within the context of the seasons, while the remembered colors and connotations connect me back to the important aspects of Jesus' time and teaching--the Mysteries.

Praying the rosary connects me to my Source.

Mysteries: Introduction

[First, please accept my apologies to anyone who actually has looked for me to be timely and regular. I'm, um, not good at either of those.]

If the repeated prayers are the skeleton of the rosary, the Mysteries are the muscle. These contemplative building blocks underpin the repetition, giving the mind a foundation for the words. Without your having to think about it, your mind settles in, focuses, centers on Jesus. Your mouth is off doing its thing, repeating familiar words; your conscious mind is keeping an eye out for cars, or the baby, or whatever is going on around you; but your spirit is immersed in the Christ. That, to me, is sufficient reason to capitalize the common noun, giving the Mysteries the reverence they deserve.

In terms of method, basically all you need to do is think about each Mystery as you are saying the Lord's Prayer and ten Hail Marys for it. If you are using beads, their job is to help you keep track of the repetitions.

So let's get started. If you have beads, hold them in your left hand, cross yourself with your right. (See earlier post--touch forehead and say, "In the name of the Father"; touch heart and continue, "And of the Son"; touch left shoulder first, then right, while finishing, "And of the Holy Ghost."

Now, hold the crucifix on your beads with thumb and forefinger and say the Lord's Prayer. Moving along, there are three beads; one for each of three Hail Marys.

You're centered on Jesus, ready to begin the Mysteries. Think or say the first Mystery for the day; then hold the bead that comes next on your chain as you say the Lord's Prayer. Next are the ten slightly separate beads for the ten Hail Marys. When you finish each "decade" of Hail Marys, say the Gloria Patri and O My Jesus prayer, then move on to the next Mystery, following its beads as you did the first.

If you're using the smaller Irish bracelet-sized rosary beads, or no beads, simply adapt to your needs. When I'm walking or running and praying the rosary, the whole thing takes only about 15 minutes; this is not some huge time commitment.

See earlier post for listing of the Mysteries and days traditionally assigned to each set.

Finally! We're ready to ponder the profound implications of these simple ideas.

a bit of background

My love affair with the rosary resulted from the unfathomable loss of my 20 year old son. It wasn't an intellectual pursuit, or a new spiritual direction, or a positive effort on my part to pray meaningfully. Rather, it was the action of a desperate mother grasping at straws to keep from falling into the abyss of cynicism, lost faith, negativity. The details, background, and choices associated with learning the rosary provide the backbone for an essay published in the Liguorian (May/June, 2010, currently available http://www.liguorian.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=273:beads-of-comfort-finding-god-in-the-spaces-between&catid=20:spirituality&Itemid=27). Soon, I will post the essay to my website. I hope you will read the essay that spawned this blog.

Next, I promise, we'll look at the Mysteries individually.

Mysteries

Up to now, I have focused on the words of the rosary prayers and on my belief that the words cross artificial boundaries, drawing us to each other and to God. But praying the rosary involves more than merely reciting the powerful words of ancient prayers. The Mysteries--distinct, important events from Jesus' life, death, and resurrection--form the core of this ritual prayer.

There are four sets of Mysteries:

- Joyful Mysteries (Monday, Saturday)
- Sorrowful Mysteries (Tuesday, Friday)
- Glorious Mysteries (Wednesday)
- Luminous Mysteries (Thursday)

Each set contains five discrete experiences pertaining to Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. In praying the rosary, you enfold those events in the rhythm of the Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary, Gloria Patri, and Fatima Prayer (see structure in earlier post).

So just what are these capital-M-Mysteries?

Joyful Mysteries:

1. Angel's announcement to Mary that she would bear a son (Luke 1:26-38)
2. Mary's visit to Elizabeth (Luke 1:39-56)
3. Jesus' birth (Luke 2:1-20)
4. Dedication of Jesus (Luke 2:21-40)
5. Finding 12 year old Jesus in temple (Luke 2:41-51)

Sorrowful Mysteries:

1. Lonely night at Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-56; Mark 14:32-50; Luke 22:39-53; John 18:1-14)
2. Flogging (Matthew 27: 15-26; Mark 15:6-15; Luke 23:13-25; John 18:38-19:1)
3. Public humiliation (Matthew 27:27-31; Mark 15:16-20; John 19:2-7)
4. Walk to Golgotha (Matthew 27:32-44; Mark 15:21-32; Luke 23:26-43; John 19:16-27)
5. Jesus' death (Matthew 27:45-55; Mark 15:33-41; Luke 23:44-49; John 19:28-37)

Glorious Mysteries:

1. Resurrection (Matthew 28:1-10; Mark 16:1-8; Luke 24:1-12; John 20:1-18)
2. Jesus' ascension to Heaven (Mark 16:19-20; Luke 24:50-53)
3. Pentecost (Acts 2:1-13)
4. Mary's trip to Heaven (no biblical reference)
5. Mary's coronation as queen of heaven (Revelation 12:1-6?)

Luminous Mysteries:

1. Jesus' baptism by John (Matthew 3:13-17; Mark 1:9-11; Luke 3:21-22; John 1:29-34)
2. Wedding at Cana (John 2:1-11)
3. Jesus' teaching (any and all of it seems fair game to me)
4. Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-13; Mark 9:2-13; Luke 9:28-36)
5. Eucharist (Matthew 26:26-29; Mark 14:22-25; Luke 22:14-20; John 13:12-38) [John actually begins with Jesus washing his disciples' feet (13:1) and continues through the end of chapter 17. In John's version, Jesus seems to have a lot to talk about during dinner.]

Joy, sorrow, glory, light. Traditionally, Friday commemorates the sorrow of Jesus' death on that day, and Sunday emphasizes the liturgical season (i.e., Joyful during Advent, Sorrowful during Lent). I tend to ignore the Joyful-for-Monday tradition, and instead simply meditate on whichever set appeals to me on any given day. If I need light, it makes sense to contemplate the Luminous Mysteries. If I feel dejected, I find solace in considering Jesus' hellish last days. Sometimes I want to affirm the glory of the risen Savior, or the joy surrounding his unusual birth. And sometimes I want to ponder the church year, choosing the set of Mysteries that best fits the liturgical season.

Praying the rosary improves with practice, but even when muddling through in the right order took most of my available brain space, this process brought me peace. The rosary continues to soothe my troubled soul.

Next we'll tackle the Mysteries one set at a time.

Form and Function

The building blocks of the rosary are familiar to most Christians, although one mystery and a handful of words derive from the Roman Catholic tradition. But what are these words? What goes where? Why?

Traditionally, the rosary is prayed while you hold an actual rosary--the beads. Personally, I prefer to say the prayers as I walk, often at breakneck, witch-on-a-warpath speed, counting the Hail Marys on my fingers.

Prayers of the rosary:
- Apostle's Creed
- Lord's Prayer
- Hail Mary
- Gloria Patri
- "O My Jesus" (optional Fatima prayer, not part of "official" rosary)
- "Hail Holy Queen" (Roman Catholic intercessory prayer)

Format:
1) Sign of the cross.
2) Apostle's Creed
3) Lord's Prayer
4) Hail Mary (repeat three times)
5) Announce first Mystery (more on these in a later post)
6) Lord's Prayer
7) Hail Mary (repeat ten times)
8) Gloria Patri
9) "O My Jesus" (optional--the Fatima prayer. I say it because I like it)
10) Announce second Mystery
11) Hail Mary (ten)...
...and so forth

The physical sign of the cross, Apostle's Creed, initial Lord's Prayer, and trio of Hail Marys form a sort of introduction. (See earlier post for my thoughts on the sign of the cross and Apostle's Creed.)

"Our Father, who art in Heaven." OUR father. Not mine. Just saying the words reminds me that we are in community, that my problems and praises are part of a cacophony going up to Heaven at any given time.

"Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven." The enduring strength of Jesus' not-so-subtle reminder of Who is in charge is not lost on me.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." Again, Jesus' words hit me where I live. Bread? How boring! Like little Oliver Twist, "I want some more, please." And then I'm not even allowed forgiveness of my sins unless I can also forgive the sins against me. But charging on:

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." Even when evil is really, really fun? Even when temptation seems almost innocent? But before I get too bogged down in these questions, Jesus moves us along to remind me once again that God is in charge, whether I like it or not: "For thine are the kingdom and the power and the glory forever." (I substitute my Protestant version of the Lord's Prayer. Most Catholics use their traditional "Our Father", which ends after "...deliver us from evil.")

And from there to the Hail Mary, a simple and endearing prayer for intercession from the woman God chose to bear the Son: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." Straight out of Luke, nothing to quibble with here. And then: "Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our deaths." Sounds good to me. At the risk of sacrilege, BTO said it pretty well: "Any love is good love, so I took what I could get" (Bachman Turner Overdrive, "You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet"). You bet I'll take Mary's prayers on my behalf. Now and at the hour of my death.

The structure of the rosary is powerful and logical. The beginning creed--literally, "I believe"--followed by the one prayer Jesus taught us and a plea to his mother for her support sets my mind in the right gear. These are not personal prayers. They are the collective cry of all God's people.

As I say these words, often in an unintelligible, under-the-breath mumble that involves a combination of mouthed words, spoken words, and imagined words, my mind doesn't necessarily focus automatically. I don't feel a sudden calm, a secure beam of light from on high that reassures me God is listening. These are not magical words. But they are powerful.

Next up, Mysteries.

Rosary Redux

For a quick how-to guide, check out http://www.rosary-center.org/howto.htm.

This is my method, no papal approval or priestly blessings, merely one Protestant woman's often bungled attempt to pray.

Traditionally, you start the rosary by making the sign of the cross. Touch forehead, center of chest, left shoulder, right shoulder. I find this somewhat foreign gesture meaningful: God, in my head, my mind; Jesus, in my heart, my soul; Holy Spirit on my shoulders, helping, guiding, keeping a lookout.

Next is the Apostle's Creed, a bunch of mumbo-jumbo I knew by heart almost before I could read. As years pass, though, those rote words take on meaning, meaning I can live with, beliefs I hold dear. Even in great pain. Even under doubt and stress and anger. Even when God is the last person I want to deal with.

"I believe in God the Father, Maker of Heaven and Earth..." Yeah. I do. I look around at this big beautiful messy world we live in, and I see God, somewhere. Always. Even when I am mad at God, Nature calls to me. Or a friend. Or a sibling. I believe in God. I believe in the Creator.

"...and in Jesus Christ, his only son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried. He descended into Hell. The third day he arose from the dead. He ascended into Heaven and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty. From thence he shall come to judge the living and the dead..." Okay. Sometimes I take a few liberties with interpretation, but I believe that Jesus came to connect Heaven and Earth. I believe his mother found herself inexplicably pregnant. I believe this innocent man suffered and died to atone for my sin and yours. And I believe Jesus loves and understands humanity. I don't understand how it works, but I believe it.

"...I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting." These concepts present no real obstacles: the Holy Spirit, Dickinson's "thing with feathers", the dove that alludes to both the Transfiguration and the grounding of Noah's ark. Our guide and helper. "Catholic" simply means "universal". The whole church. All of God's people, wherever they might be. "The communion of saints" feels to me a matter open to my personal interpretation, and so I remember the pot luck dinners at my home church, with old Mrs. Carter's chicken and dumplings, young Mrs. Carter's cookies, Mrs. DeMario's cake, and my mother's spicy beef. Most are surely saints now, if not then, and the memory is comforting. Or to be more academic, the saints of the church, in communion with each other and with God. And with me, somehow. "The forgiveness of sins." God, I surely hope so! "The resurrection of the body"--Jesus' or mine makes little difference to me. However Heaven works, I believe it works. That "life everlasting". There had better be life after this one. Don't get me wrong, this one is lovely in many ways. But I cling passionately to the idea that one day, this world will make some sort of sense. One day, I'll enjoy old Mrs. Carter's chicken and dumplings again. One day, I'll know that my 20 year old son--the one whose untimely death sparked my interest in the rosary--one day, I'll know he's okay.

Next up, we'll tackle the structure of the rosary.

Introduction

I am Protestant, born and bred; praying the rosary is not part of my heritage. But when my son was killed, I found myself unable to pray and unwilling not to. The prayers of the rosary allowed me the space I needed and the connection I craved.

In those early days, I thought I heard God whisper within the shout of those familiar prayers: "You matter immensely to Me."

Like prayer, blogs can offer two-way conversation, but they usually don't. I hope this one does.

My husband's response, tongue firmly in cheek: "Oh, a blog for all the other rosary scholars."

Yes. A blog for those of us who find purpose and meaning in those words we've known since childhood.

I hope you will join the conversation.