Our Sacrifice of Praise

This morning I got up and, immediately starting to rush because I was late, told myself I'd skip Morning Prayer and just say the morning offering. "After all," I reasoned. "It's not as if I've been getting much out of it lately. Might as well take a break." Then I started brushing my teeth.

A thought occurred to me. A still, small voice said, "Since when is prayer all about you? Weren't you just reading last night that we have an obligation to God to offer praise to Him, since it was He who made you, and it is to Him that you owe all you have and are?" That stopped me in my tracks. I was indeed reading about that, last night, in Radio Replies. It said that religion is man's duty to God, since he did not make himself, God did. Every tribe, civilization, and nation since the beginning of time has had religion of some sort or another. Man instinctively knows he owes worship to God. If he denies it, he has to work against his natural inclination, convince himself through rationalization that either God does not exist, or if He does, then we don't owe anything to Him.

Hm. I continued brushing my teeth. The voice kept talking. "And isn't prayer really your substitute for doing the good works you are always saying you're going to do? You are too occupied at present to do them, so you offer prayers up instead for the weak, poor, starving, sick, and dying. Are you going to stop that now, that it isn't 'doing anything' for you?" "Uh..." I thought. "And what about the universal Church?" the voice continued. "That you are always saying you care about, and would like nothing better than to see put to rights. The Office has always been about that. Are you going to leave your duty to that, too? That is, until your prayer life starts to do more for you?"

I was shrinking inside. I looked over at the picture of Jesus I keep on the wall, remembering words from spiritual works I had read about how Jesus aches for souls, how he hungers and thirsts for our love. If I can't throw myself down before the Blessed Sacrament, I tell myself that I will at least say these prayers. And, saying them, I am not doing this for myself, like I would do a yoga class. It is about God's due.

This whole conversation--this fabric of prayers, thoughts, and feelings that I feel connects me with God from day to day--must be nourished by something. If you want to lead a holy life, you must have power. You cannot do that in and of yourself. However, God also must receive his due. You must do for him, even when you don't feel like it. Even when it isn't really "doing anything" for you. That's what makes it a sacrifice, and even more precious in His sight.