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Office Of Readings | Wednesday, Lent Week 5 | A Reading From The Discourses Of Saint Augustine On The Psalms
‘Jesus Christ prays for us, prays in us, is prayed to by us.’
In his commentary on the psalms, Saint Augustine invites us to reflect on the nature of prayer in the light of the Incarnation. Christ, he says, prays for us, prays in us, and is the one to whom we pray. This threefold pattern expresses the deep mystery of how Christ, as both God and man, draws us into communion with the Father.
At the centre of Augustine’s reflection is the conviction that Christ is inseparably united to his Church. Christ is the Head; the Church is his Body. Together, they form one person, what Augustine elsewhere calls the Totus Christus – the whole Christ. This means that the voice of the Church in prayer is the voice of Christ; and the voice of Christ, especially in the Psalms, is the voice of his Body. We speak to God in him, and he speaks to God in us.
This helps explain the wide range of expressions we encounter in the Psalms – some joyful, some confused, others desperate or afraid. When Christ speaks through the Psalms, he gives voice not only to his own suffering and obedience, but to the full range of human experience. He prays in the weakness of our flesh. He prays as one of us. This is not something to be glossed over or ‘explained away’. Augustine warns us against trying to filter out what seems unworthy of God – sighs, sorrows, and cries for help – as though the Word made flesh would be diminished by sharing in our condition.
This is exactly what the Incarnation means: that the eternal Son of God took on a full human nature, including its vulnerability and dependence. In assuming human nature, he sanctified all of it – including our prayer. So, when he cries out in the words of the Psalmist, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ this is not a contradiction of his divinity, but a mark of his solidarity with us.
Augustine also reminds us that prayer is not a one-way act. Christ not only speaks our prayers but remains the object of our worship. As God, he receives the prayer of his Church; as man, he offers the perfect prayer to the Father. When we pray, we do so in him, because he is the Mediator through whom we have access to the Father. His humanity becomes the place of encounter between human longing and divine grace.
This is why the Church prays the Psalms as her own. In them, Christ prays on behalf of all humanity, and all humanity finds its voice in Christ. The Psalms, for Augustine, are not simply ancient texts; they are the living breath of the Church, expressing the faith, hope, and sorrow of a people united to their crucified and risen Lord.
For Lent, this reading offers a powerful reflection. We are reminded that when we kneel in prayer, we are never alone. Christ is praying in us. When we find ourselves overwhelmed, inarticulate, or unsure how to speak to God, Augustine points us to the Psalms and to Christ, who continues to speak on our behalf. The one who once sighed, wept, and cried out now intercedes for us, and unites our small prayers to his eternal one.
In prayer, we are caught up into Christ’s own relationship with the Father. Through him, with him, and in him, we speak and are heard. And through his Spirit, our words are shaped into his own.
A Reading From The Discourses Of Saint Augustine On The Psalms
God could give no greater gift to men than to make his Word, through whom he created all things, their head and to join them to him as his members, so that the Word might be both Son of God and son of man, one God with the Father, and one man with all men. The result is that when we speak with God in prayer we do not separate the Son from him, and when the body of the Son prays it does not separate its head from itself: it is the one Saviour of his body, our Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who prays for us and in us and is himself the object of our prayers.
He prays for us as our priest, he prays in us as our head, he is the object of our prayers as our God.
Let us then recognise both our voice in his, and his voice in ours. When something is said, especially in prophecy, about the Lord Jesus Christ that seems to belong to a condition of lowliness unworthy of God, we must not hesitate to ascribe this condition to one who did not hesitate to unite himself with us. Every creature is his servant, for it was through him that every creature came to be.
We contemplate his glory and divinity when we listen to these words: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him nothing was made. Here we gaze on the divinity of the Son of God, something supremely great and surpassing all the greatness of his creatures. Yet in other parts of Scripture we hear him as one sighing, praying, giving praise and thanks.
We hesitate to attribute these words to him because our minds are slow to come down to his humble level when we have just been contemplating him in his divinity. It is as though we were doing him an injustice in acknowledging in a man the words of one with whom we spoke when we prayed to God. We are usually at a loss and try to change the meaning. Yet our minds find nothing in Scripture that does not go back to him, nothing that will allow us to stray from him.
Our thoughts must then be awakened to keep their vigil of faith. We must realise that the one whom we were contemplating a short time before in his nature as God took to himself the nature of a servant; he was made in the likeness of men and found to be a man like others; he humbled himself by being obedient even to accepting death; as he hung on the cross he made the psalmist’s words his own: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
We pray to him as God, he prays for us as a servant. In the first case he is the Creator, in the second a creature. Himself unchanged, he took to himself our created nature in order to change it, and made us one man with himself, head and body. We pray then to him, through him, in him, and we speak along with him and he along with us.
We are called as Christians not only to love God and to offer our days to Him, but also to shine as a living example to the people we meet each day. We are called to that apostolate which is a part of being a Christian, to proclaim the truth of Christ to the world. There are all sorts of ways in which we can approach this mission. There are those who feel called to preach the Gospel aloud in busy streets, asking passers by to pause for a moment and listen to the word of God. For others, it might seem a brave act to say to a person who might not know us very well, in the course of conversation: I am a Christian [ … ]
Matthew’s account of the Sermon on the Mount has been related through the whole of chapters five, six and seven of his Gospel. Jesus concludes his teachings with today’s Bible verses, which carry both a promise and a warning. Commencing with the Beatitudes, Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount has presented to the people, toward the start of his ministry, a most beautiful, transformative understanding of God’s call to us to be with Him and to live according to the real, inner truth of the law [ … ]
YouTube: Ash Wednesday | T.S. Eliot | Audio Christian Poetry | Word Aloud Ash Wednesday, one of T.S. Eliot’s most profound and enigmatic poems, marks a significant transition in his life and work. Written in 1930, it is the first long poem Eliot composed after his conversion to Anglicanism in 1927. The poem, often considered one of Eliot’s masterpieces, delves into themes of faith, redemption, and spiritual struggle. It reflects the poet’s personal journey towards spiritual enlightenment and serves as a testament to his newfound religious beliefs. A reading of Ash Wednesday is an exploration of the poem’s religious, literary, and personal contexts, as of the poem’s complex structure and themes. Religious Context And Symbolism Ash Wednesday is deeply embedded in Christian symbolism and tradition. The title refers to the first day of Lent in the Christian liturgical calendar, a day marked by penance, fasting, and prayer. Ash Wednesday is a time for reflection on mortality and repentance, themes that are intricately woven throughout the poem. Eliot’s conversion to Anglicanism profoundly influenced his writing; ‘Ash Wednesday’ is an expression of spiritual awakening and quest for redemption. The poem is replete with religious imagery and references, drawing on Christian doctrine and scripture. The use of liturgical language, biblical allusions, and references to saints and spiritual figures creates a tapestry of faith that invites readers to contemplate deep spiritual truths with which Eliot is grappling. The repetitive and prayer-like quality of the verses echoes meditative practices of the faithful, in part enabling the contemplative nature of the poem. Literary Influences And Techniques T.S. Eliot was a master of literary allusion and technique, and Ash Wednesday expresses Eliot’s ability to blend various influences into a cohesive whole. The poem reflects the influence of Dante, particularly The Divine Comedy, which Eliot admired for its exploration of spiritual ascent and redemption. Dante’s journey through Hell, Purgatory and Heaven parallels Eliot’s own spiritual journey, and the structure of Ash Wednesday can be seen as a reflection of this pilgrimage. Eliot’s use of fragmented narrative, a hallmark of his earlier work such as The Waste Land, is also present in Ash Wednesday. However, in this poem, the fragmentation serves a different purpose. Instead of depicting the disintegration of modern society, it mirrors the fragmented and often painful process of spiritual rebirth. The disjointed structure reflects the internal struggle of the speaker, who is torn between the pull of worldly desires and the aspiration for divine grace. The poem’s language is rich and varied, combining the lyrical and the obscure, the personal and the universal. Eliot employs a range of poetic forms and devices, including free verse, rhyme and meter, to convey the tumultuous journey of faith. The shifting tone and style reflect the complexities and contradictions inherent in the spiritual quest, capturing moments of doubt, despair, hope, and transcendence. Personal Significance Ash Wednesday is a deeply personal work. Eliot’s conversion to Anglicanism marked a profound shift in his life, providing a sense of purpose and direction that had been missing. The poem can be read as a reflection of Eliot’s own struggles with faith and his efforts to reconcile his intellectual skepticism with his desire for spiritual certainty. Eliot’s personal experiences, including his troubled marriage and professional pressures, also inform the poem. Themes of renunciation and acceptance, sin and redemption, are not merely abstract concepts but lived realities for the poet. This personal dimension adds a layer of intimacy and urgency to the poem, which thereby resonates with readers who have faced their own spiritual crises. Thematic Exploration At its core, Ash Wednesday is a meditation on the possibility of spiritual renewal in a world that often seems devoid of meaning. The poem grapples with the tension between faith and doubt, reflecting the existential struggles of modernity. The poem acknowledges the difficulties of maintaining belief in an age of skepticism but ultimately affirms the possibility of redemption and grace. The central theme of renunciation is explored through imagery of ascension and purification. The speaker’s journey is marked by a series of renunciations, symbolizing the shedding of earthly attachments in pursuit of spiritual truth. This process is neither straightforward nor easy; it involves moments of intense struggle and introspection. Yet, through this arduous journey, the speaker moves closer to a state of spiritual clarity and acceptance. Ash Wednesday | T. S. Eliot Because I do not hope to turn again Because I do not hope Because I do not hope to turn Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope I no longer strive to strive towards such things (Why should the agèd eagle stretch its wings?) Why should I mourn The vanished power of the usual reign? Because I do not hope to know The infirm glory of the positive hour Because I do not think Because I know I shall not know The one veritable transitory power Because I cannot drink There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again Because I know that time is always time And place is always and only place And what is actual is actual only for one time And only for one place I rejoice that things are as they are and I renounce the blessèd face And renounce the voice Because I cannot hope to turn again Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something Upon which to rejoice And pray to God to have mercy upon us And pray that I may forget These matters that with myself I too much discuss Too much explain Because I do not hope to turn again Let these words answer For what is done, not to be done again May the judgement not be too heavy upon us Because these wings are no longer wings to fly But merely vans to beat the air The air which is now thoroughly small and dry Smaller and dryer than the will Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit still. Pray for us sinners now […]
