(1. Soul of Christ, sanctify me.)

(2. Body of Christ, save me.)

(3. Blood of Christ, inebriate me.)

(4. Water from the side of Christ, wash me.)

(5. Passion of Christ, strengthen me.)

(6. Within thy wounds, hide me.)

(7. Let me never be separated from Thee.)

(8. From the wicked foe defend me.)

(9. At the hour of my death, call me.)

(10. That I may praise Thee forever.)

- – - – -

That with thy saints I may praise thee
for ever and ever.  Amen.
Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te
in saecula saeculorum.

When Sister Elizabeth was about ten years old, her parents dropped her off at church to sing with the choir at a parish mission.  Listening more attentively than most children might to the priest’s talk, she was disheartened to hear heaven described as an eternity of looking at God – a boring eternity of standing in long rows, as she pictured it, forever and ever and ever.  Little Elizabeth decided then and there that if this was heaven, she wasn’t interested.  As soon as she got home, she reported her decision to her parents, who understandably never again allowed her to attend a parish mission.

What are we entreating God to bestow upon us in this final petition of the Anima Christi?  Are we begging to stand in never-ending rows, gazing and praising in deathless boredom?  No, in truth, we are praying for the fulfillment of our purpose and the apex of joy.

If you are at all like me, you have moments of heartfelt gratitude, interspersed with moments  (sometimes more tenacious than the grateful ones) of grumbling, doubt, discouragement, guilt, and unrestrained ego.  It seems unlikely that anyone would claim that the latter are our happier times.  In fact, if we consider the occasions when we feel inclined toward grateful or admiring praise, whether for the greatness of God or for a good meal prepared by a friend, I imagine we will find that not only are these far from boring, but that they are among our most satisfying times.

Alleluia rarely springs from boredom or disinterest.  It may, however, arise during seasons of pain.  When I arrived at the local hospital where Sister Elizabeth (grown up by this time) was in the emergency room awaiting surgery for a broken ankle, I heard singing coming from one of the cubicles.  The voice sounded familiar.  It turned out to belong to Sister Elizabeth, lying on a gurney and singing the Magnificat: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”

I cannot forget a comment posted on YouTube: “On a very sad night….Praise is all I can do.”

After death, though, there will be no more pain or sorrow to dilute our praise.  “Bid me come to thee, that with thy saints I may praise thee for ever and ever.”

Saved Together

And notice this – we are not saved in isolation, but along with all the holy ones of God.  Isaiah emphasizes the communal nature of God’s consoling and glorious appearing:

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’ (40:5)

In Paul’s letter to the Romans we read that humans beings are not alone in waiting “with eager longing” for the completion of God’s purpose.  Although groaning now, “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (8:18-23).

It is right, then, that we pray to be united in praise with God’s holy ones – who will probably be a motley crew.  Indeed, there might be people whose presence among the blessed assembly will surprise us; while others might be astonished to find us included among the sanctified.

Joseph Tetlow, S.J., paraphrases the final petition petition of the Anima Christi this way:

Stand me solid among angels and saints
chanting yes to all you have done,
exulting in all you mean to do forever and ever.

At last, our purpose as human beings will be complete and our whole being, like that of Christ, will be a joyful yes to God.  The very idea of saying yes too often evokes fears of the thing I least want to happen (thereby summoning forth a gritting of teeth and the pious utterance, “O God, give me the strength to accept your will”).  But finally the will of God will be received for what in reality it has always been, the source of peace and joy; and in that gracious will we will be freed to exult.

From “Me” to “Thee”

Ron Hansen points out the grammatical movement in the Anima Christi from “me” to “thee”:

Nine lines of the prayer have been completed by the accusative pronoun me.  But as the “Anima Christi” winds up, there is the “from you” of the eighth line and the “to you” of the eleventh, and the twelfth, penultimate line will have Christ’s te without preposition, imitating Christ’s shift to the central point in the writer’s existence.

Ron Hansen, A Stay Against Confusion: Essays on Faith and Fiction (HarperCollins, 2002), 174.

“He must increase,” says John the Baptist, “but I must decrease.”  May the Spirit of Jesus work in us as we pray the Anima Christi, so that the same shift toward Christ may be taking place even now in the grammar of our own lives.

- – - – -

O God worthy of all praise,
May I not withhold praise, waiting until life is perfected
Or until I am worthy to exalt you.
May my whole being be a flame of praise to you and in you.

At the hour of my death, call me
and bid me come to thee,
that with thy saints I may praise thee
for ever and ever.  Amen.
In hora mortis meae voca me,
et iube me venire ad te.
Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te
in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

- – - – -

“Praise Thee Forever” image by Rose Hoover, rc

Hawk under umbrella

I was in the kitchen when I heard a wild beating and clattering.  All I could see from the window was a confusion of feathers and very large wings under the patio bench.  Since the feathers appeared to belong to a hawk, I put on my raincoat and gloves (even though the temperature was hovering around 90 degrees), as I have a deep respect for the talons and beak of even an injured hawk.  Thus protected (probably inadequately), I went out and pulled one of the potted tomato plants away from the bench, hoping this would help the bird escape its confines, and then backed away.

Our good neighbors, working on the house across the street, saw the hubbub, and came over.  By this time the hawk was lying still and was panting open-beaked on the hot concrete.  She (at least we called it “she”) looked for all the world as if she were dying. One person suggested that we shade her with an umbrella, which we did.  And since she seemed unlikely to pose a threat at this point, I removed my raincoat and gloves in order to avoid my own heat stroke.

Meanwhile I had called Alachua County Animal Services, and before long a nice young man who knew much more about hawks than we did, arrived.  By this time, though, the hawk had begun to revive, and after a few minutes of sitting under the umbrella and then on the patio wall, gave a great cry and flew into one of our huge live oaks.  She rested there for a while, and eventually disappeared.

Second hawk
The second hawk arrived quietly (unlike the first one) four days later, early in the morning.  I tried to call Animal Services again, but it was Memorial Day, and the office was closed.

Juvenile hawk on patio wall

This time it was a juvenile.  She sat on the patio wall for a while and observed us.  She moved to the driveway, then to the bushes, and from there flew to the roof.  We were relieved that she had moved to a higher realm, because while the hawk was watching us, a large neighborhood cat was watching the hawk. (However, I do think the cat would have gotten an unpleasant surprise had he actually tried to grab this birdie.)

Anyhow, we were hoping the young hawk had flown home, but after lunch, there she was again, on the edge of the carport and later on the railing of the deck on the other side of the house.  In fact, she hung around most of the day.  We put water out for her on the railing, while she mildly kept an eye on us and on her surroundings, seemingly unafraid.

The next day she was gone.

Now let me tell you something strange. The first hawk – the injured one who eventually flew away – clattered onto the patio at a time when a friend had recently moved into hospice to die.  The second hawk – the young one who hung around all day – came without disturbance the day after our friend had peacefully died.

I don’t believe that the dead – or the dying – come to us literally in the form of animals. But this I do believe:

• That everyday life sometimes works in symbols, and that the symbols, if we are paying attention, can at times reveal to us a truth deeper than what our senses can perceive.
• That there is a mysterious communion among God’s holy creatures, living and dead, human or not.  (See “With a Little Help from My Friends” for a quote from Saint Ignatius of Loyola.  See also Romans 8:18-23 for an example of the relationship between humanity and the rest of creation.)

Were the hawks showing us something about our friend, first dying, then reborn in the peace of God?  Or were they just hawks who, without any significance, blundered into our yard? Who can say for sure?  What we can say is that these wild creatures brought consolation and delight in a time of sadness.

- – - – - – - – - -

Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars,
and spreads its wings towards the south?
(From God’s words to Job, 39:26)

When this perishable body puts on imperishability,
and this mortal body puts on immortality,
then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:
‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’
‘Where, O death, is your victory?
Where, O death, is your sting?’
The sting of death is sin,
and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:54-57