Gertrud von Le Fort/Hymns to the Church

Gertrude von Le Fort (1876-1971)

Gertrud von Le Fort, a German mystic, writer and convert to Catholicism at the age of fifty, has recently captured my attention and deeply moved my heart with her magnificent poetry.  She published over 20 books of poetry, essays, short stories and novels and was known as the "greatest contemporary transcendent poet."

In her book, Hymns to the Church, published in 1938 by Sheed and Ward, she beautifully captures the liturgical cycle with uplifting words that soar and sweep across the heart.  I was fortunate to find a copy of Hymns to the Church at the public library, because the only copy listed for sale on Amazon was offered for $500.00!  What a treasure these words are that a used book would be so highly valued!   In keeping with the season of Lent, here is one of my favorites: 

Passion

I

Your voice speaks to my soul:
    Be not afraid of my golden garments, have no fear of
    the rays of my candles,
For they are all but veils of my love, they are all but as
    tender hands covering my secret.
I will draw them away, weeping soul, that you may see I am
     no stranger to you.
How should a mother not resemble her child?
All your sorrows are in me.
I am born out of suffering, I have bloomed out of five
     holy wounds.
I grew on the tree of humiliation, I found strength in the
     bitter wine of tears.
I am a white rose in a chalice full of blood.
I live on suffering, I am the strength out of suffering, I am
     glory out of suffering:
Come to my soul and find your home.

II

And your voice speaks:

     I know of your shuddering at joy, I know how you go

     pale before the hours that are clad in purple.

I know your terror before the beakers of fullness,

I know too how you tremble before the soul of the best

     beloved!

For your depths are wounded by gladness; it reaches down

     into you with cold hands,

It quenches all your desires like a great hesitation.

It sinks on your senses like stones of guilt.  It falls on your 

     soul like the reek of wilted herbs.

It wraps you in pain from head to foot, then you are

     sheltered from joy by joy-

Then all your grief becomes eternal.

III

And your voice speaks:

     I will read the secret of your sorrow, O tender one,

     timid one, kin to my soul, beloved:

It is I who weep in the depths of you!

I have fashioned you for a thousand years and longer, I 

     blessed all your fathers and mothers with the cross.

You have cost me griefs and wounds, among thorns have I

     released your hands from the world.

You have cost me solitude, you have cost me dark silence

     through many generations.

You have cost me goods and chattels, you have cost me the

     ground under my feet, you have cost me a whole

     world!

You have grown subtle, soul, you have become like a 

     silky flax that it has taken long to spin:

You have become like a thread, so fine that it no longer

     holds.

See, you float away lightly over the meadows of life, you

     float away over the flowering lands,

But not one of them can hold you, homeless one, wandering

     soul of my sorrow.

IV

And your voice speaks:

     I will sing a Gloria that shall fill the top of my towers

     with the clangour of their bells.

Praise the Lord all sorrow of the earth!

Let the impoverished praise Him, and those who are in exile,

     let the disappointed praise Him, and the disinherited,

     let Him be praised by all whom nothing satisfies.

Be he praised by the bright torment of the spirit, and by

     the dark torment of nature.

Be He praised by the holy torment of love.

Be He praised by the solitude of the soul and by the soul's 

     captivity.

Be He praised by the sorrow of sin and by the woe that

     all things perish,

Be He praised also by the bitter anguish of death.

See, I strip my altars of all adornment, all their fine linen

     must fade like the loveliness of flowering fields.

All the images on them must hide their faces.

I will take away my last consolation, I will remove the

     Lord's Body, that my soul may become deep night.

For the sorrow of the world has become blessed, because it

     has been loved.

Behold the wood of the Cross on which hung the

     Salvation of the world.

For more, visit this link to read/pray von Le Fort's magnificent Litany for the Feast of the Most Sacred Heart from Hymns to the Church.  

Marked

I receive the ashes that label me as His child, His own.

The dust flakes down into my eyes, flirting with my lashes and
blurring my vision of worldly things, reminding me that the
spiritual realm can often contain that which is dirty, dusty and dark.

I let the ash that marks me settle deep within my soul,
allowing it to mingle with the sorrow and joy that God's love
has carefully placed within my life.

There, in the depths of my soul,
the sorrow and joy churn the dark ashes,
creating something pure;
preparing them for their presentation to the Lord in Heaven.

I am marked as His own and will carry that mark
from my forehead to my soul
beyond this season of Lent and into forever.

(a re-post from the archives)

Opening Our Weakness

Since I am so often inspired, challenged and moved by the words of one of my dearest friends, Fr. Don Hying, the Rector of St. Francis de Sales Seminary, I have asked him to become a regular contributor to Imprisoned in my Bones. Because he is a man who always says yes, thereby modeling the generosity of Christ, he will be sharing his wonderful writings here more frequently. He regularly writes a column for the Seminary supporters called "New Heart, New Spirit" and what follows is his most recent edition:

In the Office of Readings for Monday of the Third Week of Lent, Saint Basil the Great writes: “Boasting of God is perfect and complete when we take no pride in our own righteousness but acknowledge that we are utterly lacking in true righteousness and have been made righteous only by faith in Christ.”

Every time I make my commitments for Lent, I know that I am setting myself up for failure! Sooner or later, I am not going to perfectly fulfill my zealous promises on Ash Wednesday to pray, fast and give alms with greater generosity and depth. The penance of Lent seems to open up our weakness on purpose, to encourage us to both embrace a spiritual ideal that is beyond our grasp and to console us when we fail along the way. Wouldn’t it be easier to just set our sights lower, so that we would fall closer to the ground?

In his quote, St. Basil reminds us that we need to radically get in touch with our sinfulness and weakness, to experience the collapse of our self-sufficiency, to feel the pain of our moral failures, to taste the bitterness of plans defeated, so that we can come more fully to faith in Christ as the One who loves, redeems, forgives and clothes in righteousness.

What can be said of Lent can probably be said of seminary formation as well. A man preparing for the priesthood is challenged on so many levels to grow and be formed anew in Christ. The seminary will call him to allow these years of intense preparation to mold and shape his intellect, prayer, manners, morals, sexuality, punctuality, management skills, ability to communicate, emotions and thoughts. This process is a tall order and no one does it perfectly.

Precisely where seminary ideals and human weakness intersect can be found the mercy of God! Knowing both our strengths and weaknesses well, we can thank God for the gifts we have received and humbly rely on Him in our imperfections. God always chooses earthen vessels to accomplish His will in this world. Both Lent and the seminary call us to shoot for the stars, in terms of sanctity, but also remind us that only the grace, mercy and righteousness of Christ can actually carry us to that sacred place Jesus calls the Kingdom of God.

Once we get what Basil is talking about, our life can become a balance of self-acceptance and self-challenge, always striving for a deeper embrace of the devout life, yet knowing that we will continue to sin. Is this steady climb of rising and falling not an extension of Jesus’ journey to Calvary, a place of death, but ultimately the strange and wonderful spot of final victory?

Born Again for Life

On February 28th, I posted The Truth Hurts about the pro-life banner that was taken down in New York City because some people found it to be offensive. I ended that post with a prayer and am amazed at how quickly God has worked to answer that prayer...

Lord, give me a heart of compassion, a heart of love for all. Wake me up from the dread fear and sorrow that grips my heart in the presence of painful truths. Give me strength to cope and courage to turn the hearts of others so that everyone will value life, will give life, your greatest gift to us all. And please, God, don't ever let me grow comfortable upon hearing those words "My most recent pregnancy ended in abortion." Let me always feel the discomfort and pain that the loss of innocent life rightly deserves. Amen.

And then I promptly forgot that I had written that prayer and went on with my busy life.

This past Monday morning just a little over a week since I wrote that prayer, I received an email from Fr. Don Hying with only a few words-"Just wanted to share this with you." I was so deeply and immediately moved by what I read in his attachment that with his permission, I sent it to everyone I knew and then posted it here on this blog and sent the link to Deacon Greg Kandra at the Deacon's Bench. It wasn't long before the good Deacon posted Fr. Don's story as well.

But that wasn't enough. For I now knew that I had to do more. Sharing Fr. Don's story was one thing, and really it was quite easy for me to do, but now I felt that God was calling me to do more than just get the word out...God was calling me to act.

With those few words-"Just wanted to share this with you"- I heard the voice of God telling me to get ready to change my life, to be born again, because He was about to answer my prayer...

Way back when in 1976, I was a fifth grade student at Sacred Heart Catholic Grade school in the small city of Manitowoc, WI. My teacher encouraged me to enter a forensics contest with the theme "Together We Will..." My mother decided for me that I would speak about abortion. Truthfully, I think she really wrote the speech, "Together We Will Fight Abortion," for me. I took first place in the city's Optimist Club Oratorical Contest that year and went on to compete against several high school students in a zone competition with the same speech and won third place.

Following that I presented that same speech for several Catholic women's groups and then my nerves finally got the best of me and I asked my mom to say no the next time someone asked me to present it. The words that my mother wrote and the way in which I presented them were strong enough to win a contest and touch hearts way back then, but they weren't strong enough for me to live them. In the thirty-five years following fifth grade I never really did anything in my life to support the pro-life cause or to fight abortion.

Sure, I donated to Wisconsin Right to Life whenever they would call. Yes, my family and I stood along a busy highway holding pro-life signs each October for the annual Life Chain in our community. Of course, I have always voted pro-life. But those things are easy compared to actively praying outside of an abortion clinic, standing face to face with women who are about to kill the child within their wombs.

So, I called my friend Dave who organizes the Life Chain group for my parish. I asked him if he could help me get a group of people together to join in prayer with the 40 Days for Life campaign at the abortion clinic. Dave was eager to help and we arranged a date, this March 19th, when he and I and hopefully many others will join together in prayer with the purpose of saving lives. And it is my hope that March 19th will be the first of many days when I prayerfully witness for life at the abortuary.

And so, this Lent, my prayer, my fasting, my almsgiving-will all be offered to save the lives of those innocent, sweet, precious little babies. God is reborn in me each and every day. With every day that I wake to the morning light, rub my eyes and flutter my lashes, I am born again to God's love for me, God's gifts to me, God's life in me; but, those babies torn from their mother's wombs never get the light of day, the flutter of lashes, the chance to be born even once. For those innocent babies, for those mothers who swallow lies and carry shame and heartache instead of life, for those doctors and deathscorts and office workers who close their hearts to the truth-I will give my all this Lent.

Marked

I receive the ashes that label me as His child, His own.

Dust flakes down into my eyes, flirting with my lashes and
blurring my vision of worldly things, reminding me that the
spiritual realm can often contain that which is dirty, dusty and dark.

I let the ash that marks me settle deep within my soul,
allowing it to mingle with the sorrow and joy that God's love
has carefully placed within me.

Those fierce emotions dwelling in my soul churn the dark ashes,
the reminder of sin and suffering,
to create something new and pure from them,
preparing me for what will hopefully be
my eventual presentation to the Lord in Heaven.

I am marked as His own and will carry that mark
from my forehead to my soul
beyond this season of Lent and into forever.

(a revised re-post from the archives)

Marked

I receive the ashes that label me as His child, His own.

The dust flakes down into my eyes, flirting with my lashes and
blurring my vision of worldly things, reminding me that the
spiritual realm can often contain that which is dirty, dusty and dark.

I let the ash that marks me settle deep within my soul,
allowing it to mingle with the sorrow and joy that God's love
has carefully placed within my life.

The sorrow and joy churn the dark ashes,
using their holiness to create something pure,
preparing them for their presentation to the Lord in Heaven.

I am marked as His own and will carry that mark
from my forehead to my soul
beyond this season of Lent and into forever.