A Call to Prayer

Lent began with a call to prayer--a jangling, jarring, unmistakable wake up call.  At three o'clock in the morning, the phone rang.  Since there were three cordless phones in the bedroom at the time, the phones rang--and they did so with authority. My husband answered and I could tell he was fumbling for words. I whispered the seven digit phone number into the darkness.  Mike relayed it and doublechecked for accuracy. He talked a little more and assured himself that the caller would indeed use the number provided.  A little more quiet talking. He hung up. Wrong number.

Our phone number is one digit off a local mental health hotline. Every once in awhile, we get a very serious "wrong number" phone call. And it's always in the middle of the night. I suppose we should have changed the number the first time it happened, but we figured it was an isolated incident. Now, we regard those dialing mistakes as opportunities for guardian angels to arrange for prayer vigils. We know how to keep the caller on the phone long enough to be certain he understands what the number really is and to be as certain as possible he'll make the second call. Before I hang up, I always tell the caller that I will be praying for him or her. On one occasion, the lady on the other end asked to pray with me. When it's the middle of the night and someone calls out of the blue and asks to pray, believe me, you sit up and you pray.

Whenever a phone awakens me in the middle of the night, even if it's not a hotline call, the adrenaline rush prevents me from going back to sleep easily. In the case of hotline calls, it's impossible not to wonder about the caller, about the outcome.  Usually, I don't go back to sleep at all. I just stay awake and pray. And for the next few days, every time the call comes to mind (and it is often), I pray some more.  An odd coincidence of numbers has resulted in an unexpected ministry.

There are so many calls to prayer in our lives, if only we hear them. Surely, the sound of sirens is such a call.  In the lives of mothers, the cry of a baby or even the whine of a toddler is a cue to beg divine intervention.  Nearly eight years ago, when my son Stephen was a newborn, a baby was born in California.  He was a fragile little boy, desperately ill.  And every single time my healthy bundle awakened me in the middle of the night, my prayers were offered first for Aidan in California.  It was my first experience asking the intercession of St. Therese. Aidan received a successful liver transplant on the Little Flower's feast day that year.  And I made a nighttime prayer partner for life. Therese and I still begin those nighttime vigils with a prayer for Aidan and now we offer those interrupted nights for all sorts of prayer concerns.

Whether it's the tinny ringtones of three phones or the quiet murmurs of my current baby, I am grateful for the reminder--the monastery bells in my domestic church. It's a privilege to join the company of monks and cloistered nuns around the world who have given their lives to pray.  My life is an active one; I am certainly not a contemplative. But in the dark of the night, often accompanied by the sweet sounds of a nursing baby, my prayers are joined with those of the universal church and the communion of saints as we beg for God's grace for the sick and the suffering.

Last minute negotiations...

Stephen: Nick,for Lent, why don't you give up making Mom make you homemade eggnog every morning?

Nicky: Okay, I can do that but only if I can have an ice cream milkshake for breakfast instead.

Me: I don't think so...

Stephen: Why don't you give up sleeping in Mom's bed?

Nicky: Stop it! You're making me sad. Why can't I just give up baths or something?

The Icons are the Curriculum

  “The same things that the Book of the Gospels explains by means of words, the iconographer shows by means of his works.”
St. Basil the Great

For as long as we've been a "Real Learning" household, religious education has taken place largely within the context of the liturgical year.  The cycle of feasting and fasting, the celebration of the life of the Lord, the joy of the communion of saints--all have richly blessed our life as a family and all have richly educated our children in the truths of the faith.

My children are sensitive to the changing colors and the changing seasons of the life of the Church.  For Advent--one of the purple seasons--we have a multitude of well-established traditions in our family.  Advent is full and rich and somewhat predictable.  The children know we go from St. Nicholas to Our Lady of Guadalupe, to St. Lucy and so on until we arrive at the Christmas Vigil. It's a lovely, tradition-filled, rhythmic season.

We have far fewer traditions for Lent, far fewer markers along the journey. I have several atrium presentations and each year, we wonder together over the days leading to the Passion.

But I was looking for something more--something visible and tangible and steeped in tradition. Two of my children have Orthodox godparents.  Every year that I can remember, the Orthodox Pascha has fallen on a different date than the Roman Catholic Easter. This year, the calendars line up.  And this year, Katherine has blessed us with a beautiful look inside the Eastern church. A perfect rabbit trail!  I can use those those beautiful ancient Lenten traditions and the icons that go with them and together with my children, we can learn about the history of the early church and the life of our Lord.

We played a little catch up. Using Katherine's essays on the five Sundays leading up to the Lent, we looked anew at Zaccheus. See, there he is up in that tree.Statues_icons_003_4

Those essays are no longer available, but similar essays appear in Great Lent. We studied the icon of Zaccheus and then colored one of our own. Each of the older children wrote a narration of the story and then a meditation of their own for their liturgical year notebooks.

Zacchaeus

And so it followed for each of the five Sundays leading up to Lent.Each icon is lesson unto itself, a lesson that deepens every time we look at it.  But this isn't the lesson of a catechism book, nor is it a work of art.  The lessons in the icons sow the seeds of prayer.  The idea here isn't so much to illuminate our minds, as to touch our souls. We learned a great deal about the stories or the saints depicted to be sure, but the knowledge isn't for knowledge's sake--it's to bring us deeper into the icon and so into a deeper union with the mystical truths that are there.

We've read before the story of the Publican and the Pharisee, of the Prodigal Son, of the Last Judgment, but this year, we learned to look at those stories anew with the icons as our windows.Prodson01_1 In true rabbit trail-, real learning-style, we are going to continue our studies throughout Lent. The icons will be our curriculum.  We'll look at the creation of man and his expulsion from Eden, the road to calvary, the ladder of divine ascent, all from a contemplative perspective.  Just as we approach the works in the atrium, using physical objects and figures with a reverence and a sense of wonder, we will look to the icons in a spirit of prayer.

I ordered a few books to help our study:

How to Pray with Icons is a little book I ordered from Seton Home Study. There are colorful icons as well as explanations of gospel events and brief prayers.  The emphasis is not on art--indeed, I will use something entirely different for picture study to emphasize this to my children--but on icons as windows into heaven.

The Story of Icons is a truly beautiful book that takes the study much deeper than the book above. It's a natural for those of us who want to more after first experiencing this gateway to heaven.

Of course, one of the first books I turned to when I began planning this study was Brother Joseph The Painter of IconsBrother Joseph is truly a living book on iconographpy, because adults and children alike read it and are drawn into to the story of the creation of icons.

I also ordered The Icon Book and several other icon coloring books.  I think that in coloring these icons, even my very oldest children will gain an appreciation for the truths they tell. With the coloring books, I did splurge and buy some new colored pencils.  Crayons just won't do these justice.

Duplicate sets of Icon flash cards make a nice matching game and give the children even more to look at and contemplate. Paidea Classics offers icon ornament kits for Sundays during Lent and Holy Week.

I see the introduction of icons into my home to be as exciting as the introduction of the atrium materials for the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd.  There are striking similarities.  Both are tangible, touchable, visual methods of wondering with a child about God.  Neither of them get between God and the child. Both of them encourage the child to go again and again to the same "presentation" and to come away with a deeper personal meaning each time. Finally, both have as much potential to impress a truth upon the "teacher" as they do to impress the child.

The dictated or written narration of the story told with an icon, together with a meditation or prayer written by the child is more than enough "academic religious education" and these pages become priceless personal notebooks.

Usually, a rabbit trail in my house includes reading for me.  I have found that my own passion for (or at least interest in) a subject makes a big difference in how well it is received by my children.  We are all learning together.  So, Michael and I will begin with the icons and then delve a little deeper into the early church as well.  I've linked all my lenten reading on the sidebar to the right. Incidentally, Mike Aquilina has a blog that offers daily food for thought from the early church fathers.

As we progress through Lent, towards Holy Week, we will have personal encounters with visual reminders along the way.

We'll look carefully at the triumphant journey to Jerusalem, both with icons and with carefully chosen figures and felts.

Entry Into Jerusalem (Dionysiou) - F98 Palm_sunday_025_1

We'll talk about Christ's great love for us as the bridegroom of the Church. On Wednesday, we'll discuss the sad betrayal of Christ by Judas.

On Holy Thursday, our thoughts will turn to the icon of the Last Supper, the Mystical Supper, and to the presentation of the work in the atrium that we call "The Good Shepherd and World Communion."

Palm_sunday_2

On Good Friday, we will ponder His passion. The children will enter into the work of the atrium and see Jesus as He is hung on the cross and then they will carefully, lovingly, take Him down and put Him in the tomb.

  Good_friday_006_2 Good_friday_007_1 Good_friday_011_1 Good_friday_012_3

Good_friday_013_3

On Easter Sunday,they can rush to the tomb and roll the stone away! They can gaze in wonder for as long as they like at the Resurrection of Our Lord!

Resurrection - F86 Easter_008_1

For children who are used to picture study and trained in the habit of attention, "really looking" at an icon is as natural as breathing. And for a child who has grown in an atrium and is well accustomed to wondering and pondering, the invitation to do so while studying an icon seems almost superfluous. They just do it. So often, our talking, and even our writing, is superfluous.  The deepest truths, the truest connections are made in silence. As Saint Basil the Great wrote, “With a soundless voice the icons teach those who behold them.”Triumph_1

Many, many thanks to Katherine for her generous contribution of time and knowledge towards my education in designing this study for my family.