Posted on 08/24/2016 3:52:42 PM PDT by NYer
We Catholics who grew up straddling the cusp of the conciliar divide may have a vague memory of the phrase “offer it up.” It was advice frequently given by the sisters who taught us our catechisms: “When you are in pain, when you are disappointed, when your feelings have been hurt, offer these things up to the Lord and ask him to use your suffering — that He join it to His own pain on the cross, for the good of others. Offer it as penance for your own sins, or the sins of those who cannot or will not do penance for themselves; offer it for the sick, the lonely, or for their intentions.”
“Penance” has received a bad name over the last thirty or forty years, largely because it was taught to many in the language of punishment rather than in the language of virtue, offering, and peace.
So, why not penance? Why not take some of one’s suffering and — rather than popping a pill — endure it for a bit; live with it and in it, and do something with it; make it worthwhile instead of meaningless.
If we are told to “offer it up” at all today, it is usually in a tone of sarcasm or very weak irony. To moderns, the concept has come to be regarded — like formerly common practices as prayerful ejaculations or a solemn breast-beat — as a quaint throwback to a time when notions of sin and reparation seemed to consume entirely too much of the Catholic sensibility. The idea of “offering it up” has fallen under the false but widely promulgated cultural disdain for something called “Catholic Guilt,” which is in truth, the marginalizing and lazy dismissal of the Catholic conscience.
Far from being a picturesque and nonchalant “there, there” to someone enduring either a minor inconvenience or a larger concern, “offer it up” is powerful theological advice that comes to us directly from scripture. As Paul writes to the Colossians: “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and fill up on my part that which is lacking of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body’s sake, which is the church . . . ”
Pondering the crucifix, and the immensity of what Christ endured, we wonder what could possibly be ‘lacking’ in his afflictions. But then, gazing upon His outstretched arms, we see an invitation. If we accept that no act in human history can begin to match the power, the healing, the victory and the justice that was achieved in the crucified suffering of Jesus of Nazareth, then attaching our own trials, minor or major though they be, to that still-resonating act of generosity and self-abnegation exposes them to all of the good contained in Christ’s sacrifice, and it assists in the salvation of the world.
We know that Jesus’ pain is occurring even in this instant, and that right now — in commingling our suffering with his — we can bring ourselves close to him. Christ’s agony and death released the dew of mercy, dropping from heaven and bathing us all; it was a wholly and holy vertical transaction.
But “offering it up” can speed this salvific action horizontally. Any such offering, even if it is initiated by a feeling of resigned helplessness, has the potential to unleash an expansive love upon the world. It cannot be otherwise. To offer one’s aches and pains, one’s disappointments for the sake of others is always love-in-action, a redemptive act. There is a particularly true and hardy love that springs from an offering made for the intentions of another.
There is nothing quite like suffering in the wee small hours — when one is loath to wake others with one’s aches and dolors — to make one ponder what it means to “offer it up.” Once, as I suffered from a one-two punch to the immune system involving pneumonia and some other bug of Roman origin, each hacking breath reminded me of Christ’s struggle to breathe. Sister Mary Gemma’s voice echoed back to me from my earliest years, “offer it up,” and I did.
In offering my difficulties to the crucified and dying Lord, I asked him to use them for his purposes and, in case he needed direction, I made a few suggestions: for those with emphysema or asthma, who were in need in those moments; for the intentions of a friend whose child is suffering from depression; for the sake of a family member from whom I am sadly estranged, but who needs healing — as does our relationship.
Making this prayer, I discovered an easing of my own difficulties. Some of that, perhaps, was thanks to the diversion of focus, but beyond that there was a true sense of enlargement — a joining of my meager and desperate act, which contained a mere seedling of love, to Christ’s wide, merciful, and all-encompassing love.
And this delivered a simple truth: praying for others, suffering for others, develops a counter-balance to the weight of our own weakness, our distrust, hate, and self-absorption. One cannot participate, even infinitesimally, in Christ’s agonies without participating in the expansion of his mercy toward all; that’s a humbling lesson. How does one plead for mercy and deliverance when the Crucifix asks, “but where is your mercy? ”
Our enlightened era looks with skepticism on penance, and believes pain is valueless and must be instantly vanquished. Coupled with a prayer of surrender to the cross of Christ, however, they are enjoined to the power of creative and healing love. And then, penance, pain, prayer — it is all privilege.
Originally published in 2011 at First Things. Reprinted with kind permission.
[Editor’s Note: Take the Poll – Do you “offer it up?”]
Great post! Thank you.
Offering up pain and fear is ESSENTIAL to all Christians, not just Catholics. And I’m surprised how few are aware of it.
My father ALWAYS advised us to “offer it up to Christ”.....his voice rings in my ears, but I forget to do it....or else I really don’t WANT to.......BUT it DOES help, plus it takes your mind off YOU and YOUR pains, and concentrates them to your friends and relatives.
...” Our enlightened era looks with skepticism on penance, and believes pain is valueless and must be instantly vanquished.”
I have believed in the sanctity of redemptive suffering for many years - my Dear Uncle Walter was wasting away in a hospice situation, no chance of survival - the last time I went to see him; he asked me to make a promise to him.
He asked me to speak to the hospice nurse, and explain that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES did he want to be administrated ANY pain killing medications, which was the S.O.P. for patients like him.
He was worried that during his final agony, his loving wife would make a plea on his behalf. I kept my promise (and to her credit, the nurse kept hers as well.)
He told me he welcomed his suffering on earth, and as a devout Catholic; he was obliged to offer his suffering for he intentions of others - thus joining his Soul into the Holy Sacrifice of Calvary...
Brave, fearless, and an example to us all!
I remember it well...
still believe in it...
8 years of catholic school. The nuns drilled it into us. Still do it & tell my kids to do it!
ditto
And was met by the Lord saying “How egotistical to refuse the mercies I put into the world.”
Sometimes we cannot avoid a suffering. But sometimes God’s answer to a suffering is a mercy. The approach in both cases, as in cases of joy too, is to offer it all to the Lord for a good use. But no, it does not buy anybody else’s salvation, or our own. Only the Cross does that. Our offerings would be impure even if they somehow reached the magnitude required.
Many saints endured a lot, including the stigmata and offered it to Christ for others.
Well, I still do it.
We are at a Carmelite parish here in Los Angeles. At a retreat, one of the priests told me to ‘offer it up.’ I am a convert, didn’t know this; he didn’t seem to think it was old-fashioned or no longer valid. The Carmelites are very orthodox, love the Lord. (Now ... I’ll read the article. Thanks for posting).
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.