Profiles in Catholicism

Prayers

A prayer for the deaf and hard of hearing:

“Lord, Open My Ear”

Our senses, Lord, are an immense gift to each of us, opening upon

So many sides, like diamond windows, jewelled doors, dazzling Notes and which, at the same time, step aside and invite us to draw Close, near and nearer, to the staggering detail, the overwhelming Space of space, so ever stretching out, outreaching our outstretched Reason beckoning us, drawing us to ponder if God exists in reality.

We live surrounded by people and, especially in the family, Lord,

There are many precious moments that pass, like a butterfly, a scent

On the air, a passing witticism which, if lost, can often burn up in a

Telling and the retelling, either through impatience or the losing of

The thread as what we saw has gone and what we said was not then

Heard but has vanished, like a deer, into the woods again and gone.

But sometimes, Lord, what was said was half-heard by the hard of

Hearing and returns, more than an echo, transformed, and full of

Amusement, tingling with humour, as when my mother was driving

To work, to teach, and said to my father, who barely heard what

She said, and replied, “A giraffe – Where?!” As if we were likely to

See a wild animal on the rural roads of England, tall and humped!

And so, Lord, this entered the family lore and has been told and Retold many times, recounted humorously, but also, by contrast,

The tragic, poignant loss of what broke the silence and slipped, so

Like a leaping fish, swiftly up and flipped and flashed, and away, Leaving an impossible to recover moment that, like so many more, Barely broke the silence and turned to grief over what was lost.

Oh Lord, there are so many ways that we can engineer an opening,

Or a reopening, of our senses, as we see that your gifts are an ever

Opening gift within a gift, giving us channels into isolation, lights in The dark, communications which do not just go to the distant stars But connect hidden, submerged, isolating losses which endanger the

Very experience of family life and lived living amidst communities.

Thus, Lord, we come to the hard-hearted whose hearing is impacted

In an inner way, surreally surrounded by buffers and comforts, drink

And what clinks, whether metal, or stone, as if wearing what comes From the ground means that we are close to what gives us health, a Crop, a flower, food and beauty, opportunities for rejoicing and, like

A fountain, overflowing, flows away into hidden vaults and tombs.

But what masses of locals charge for little profit, making ends meet, Marketing translates into billion-dollar incomes for a few, building

Empires over the dead and dying diggers in dangerous conditions An anonymous, amorphous, face-less, featureless, ragged and rough

Scrambler for that dried crust that may, or may not, fall from the Dirty truck that takes away what was scraped from the rubbly earth. It now, Lord, we are in the days of the death and resurrection of Your holy life that bled upon the earth, which witnessed your torn

Wretched, engulfing death and so, accepting the suffering thrust on

Your flesh, opening wounds that would heal us, we come as beggars

Begging your help to open our ears and hearts, healing our hidden

Deafness, calling out, compassionately, while there is still time:

Listen now, while there is still time to heal our deafness!

Let the Lord’s open wounds open a life opening to others!

Or are we going to die in suffocating, sealed, silent hearts?

Oh Mary, Mother of the Lord, let us long to listen to your prayer

That even if our wine has run out, that even if we are hard-hearted,

That even if our time is running up to running out, that even if we

Are not just lost, imprisoned in an impossible pride of place, above

All needs, beyond the everyday life of so many people, that even if We are the dead-deaf – your prayer can plant your Son’s word in us!

Come, then, let us gather together to listen to the word which opens

Upon who we are and who you are, Lord, lover of life, that we can Hear and live and live now and ever after, not losing but belonging To all who, like Joseph, have lived in the light of being open to love The Lord of life, and love, day in and day out, or hope, in the end, to Love at  the last gasp, to give way in the last half-life left to repent!

by Francis Etheredge, Catholic married layman, father, and author:

Prayer for the victims on the Myanmar earthquake