Category: Prayer

True Thanksgiving

The prayers and good wishes I received on the occasion of my nomination and blessing as abbot were truly overwhelming. I wish everyone could have a similar experience. When so many people think of you, send you good thoughts, and pray for you, it gives you incredible strength and support. Ultimately, this support comes from God, but it is conveyed through people, through friends. What if we could do this more often, pray for each other together?

At the same time, I felt the need to thank God and people. I felt that so much had been given to me personally and to my community that words cannot express this gratitude. Nothing can equal what I owe to God and the people who prayed for us. In this respect, the liturgy helps enormously. The Psalms help because they express what we cannot find words for. Many of them speak of the goodness of the Lord and sing of gratitude. They speak of sacrifices of praise and thanksgiving.

Nevertheless, I felt guilty because I did not sense that I was responding appropriately to what I had received. My ego was simply too small to take it all in, and too small to praise God and thank him for everything. But there was one consolation: that is why Jesus Christ came into the world. He is the true thanksgiving for us. He is the spotless sacrifice to God. Since we humans were unable to give God what we owed him, he sent his Son, who, as both man and God, was able to “give back” what was necessary, with his entire life. He redeemed what needed to be redeemed. This happens in the Holy Eucharist. Eucharist means “thanksgiving.” Jesus gives himself to the Father for us. Because our sacrifices and our thanks are not great enough, not pure enough, not adequate enough—they never will be, they will never suffice—he does it for us. He expects nothing in return. Only that we remember him and celebrate it: “Do this in memory of me.”

Dear Lord, there is so much for which we can be thankful. We have received so much from you. How wonderful it is that you pray for us. You are the true high priest. God, your Father, has accepted your sacrifice of thanksgiving. We are now reconciled with you. We no longer need to feel guilty. Your pure grace has given us all this. And it continues to do so.

Believe that you are loved

Sometimes we feel that there is not enough love in our lives. We think that our spouse, our confrere, our fellow human being, could love us more. God could love us even more. Our desire for love is so deep and comprehensive that it is hardly possible to satisfy it completely. We should not feel guilty about this longing. That is simply how we are made. Why is that? Because God created us that way. He created us out of love and out of an abundance of love. Out of pure love. We want to feel that at all times, to live out of that love. When a little bit of that love is missing, we feel it too.

Years ago, my novice master told me something I have never forgotten. Even if someone loves you, you still have to believe that he or she loves you. Even if he gives you all the signs of his love, a letter, a kiss, a gift, even a sacrifice—if you don’t believe that he loves you, it would be in vain. That is a leap we have to take: to believe it. And to accept it. Sometimes we live in disharmony with other people, believing that they do not wish us well, perhaps even wishing us harm. And perhaps we are right in this perception. But there is always a certain amount of love. Parents, for example, loved us even if they were unable to express their love for us adequately and fully. And perhaps years later, even after their death, we can recognize this and finally accept it.

God loved the world so much that he sent his only Son (John 3:16). And we did not accept him. And we did not believe him. We did not believe in God’s love, even though we saw it. Was his love for us still real? Of course it was! It took many people to believe and accept it. Mary, the Mother of God, gave us an example how to believe in God’s love. God has made all of us for himself, and our heart is restless until it rests in him. (St Augustine) In the end, the love with which God surrounds and embraces us will be fully revealed. For love was there from the beginning, and so it will be there at the end.

Lord, I am grateful for your love. Let me believe in your love. Let me see the traces of love in my neighbor as well. Let us never see only the dark side. Give me humility to accept that I am loved, and let me put aside grumbling and resistance.

Without hope – what will the end look like ?

I recently met a woman in her early 60s who shared with me her concerns about political developments and the future. In view of the uncertainties of our time, her conclusion was: enjoy every day, make as much of it as you can while you are healthy, invest in your health and take each day as it comes. Then we talked about aging and the fact that as we get old, we may need care and assistance, some day. Two factors cloud this prospect: demographics – at least in some countries. Who will take care of us? There will be many more old people than young ones. We cannot expect our children to take care of us if they can at all. The other factor is certainly money: care will become more expensive, and our lives will be longer compared to previous generations. And then the woman said something to me that shocked me: if necessary, one would have to give dying a helping hand. I have heard this argument more often recently. There are countries where euthanasia has become more accepted and common, for example in Switzerland and the Netherlands. As much as life is endangered at the beginning, so it is now at its end.

If life is just consuming, enjoying, making the most of our days, one consequently will stop it when this objective cannot be fulfilled anymore. As I listened to this woman, I wondered how I would react in such a situation. There are already phases of suffering or pain in earlier years that, seen from this perspective, would not be worth living. What helped me during these phases? Prayer. The Eucharist. The conversation with God, to whom I can entrust all my thoughts and feelings. People who walk with me and hope with me. I wonder how this life can be bearable without faith, especially in difficult days. To be honest, I am not free of concerns about the future, but I hope that God, who gave me this life, will take care of me. With His help, I and we will find ways to live a dignified life until the day it ends. I realized once again how precious our faith is and how it changes our outlook on life.

Lord, let your angels be near all old people. Let them be cared for. Bless their lives, even when they no longer seem to have any meaning. Let us stand with respect for the suffering that an old person must endure. Who understood Your suffering on the cross when you were going through it, Lord? No one. And did it make sense in the end? More than make sense. My Lord, take away my fear. Let me never give up hope, for my life, for this world. Your future is not dark. Let me enjoy each day gratefully, with you. It is all grace.

God Is Always Greater

Since I had the gift of spending some time in Egypt with my brother monks in a Coptic Benedictine monastery, I was able to experience our prayer in a different environment. I stood and prayed in front of an iconostasis.

Normally, in our Latin-Western tradition, everything is open. You can see the altar. You can see the sanctuary. But this is not the case in the Eastern churches. The iconostasis blocks the view of the altar. There is a door or a curtain that can be opened for the Holy Eucharist. Otherwise, you are left standing in front of a wooden wall. This wall is called an iconostasis because it holds many icons.

The first time I prayed this way, I felt a strong impression: God is great. He is always greater than I can ever imagine. You are practically standing before the Unknown. Of course, the icons help you understand and enter into the mystery. Mary, the Mother of God, is there with the child. John the Baptist is present, along with the apostles and other saints. But you realize immediately: these are only “images.” I am aware that, in the Orthodox tradition, an icon is more than just an image. It is a representation of the Holy. But for me, it was liberating to feel that all that I can see, all that I can know, all that I can dream, all that I can fear, all that I can understand, all that I can long for, never fully coincides with who God really is. His greatness is beyond all of it – as the altar here is beyond the curtain.

Getting in touch with His mystery was liberating, freeing. And – unexpectedly – it left me with more hope, more courage, more desire to seek God in my daily life. And isn’t that the truth? We don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Acknowledging that is the best way to live the present.


My God, you are great and wonderful. The saints show us the way. Your only Son Jesus Christ IS the way to you. Help me to let go of all my ideas. Help me to throw myself into the unknown, to throw myself into your wide-open arms. Forgive me this imagination.

The Divine Hunter

In the former Benedictine monastery of Benediktbeuern in Germany, there is a painting from the 17th century that shows Jesus as a hunter. It is a rather unusual image of Jesus. We see him as a fairly young man holding a rifle in his hands and shooting at some wild animals. Next to him are three women who allegorically embody faith, hope and love. In the background, four people can be seen in the context of a driven hunt, representing the continents known at the time. There is a fence in the foreground of the picture, making it clear that there is hardly any way out for the animals. The animals themselves – an elephant, a deer, a fox, a lion, a crocodile and a leopard – are beautifully depicted. What could be the meaning of this painting?

The surrounding baroque paintings, also on the ceiling of the monastery hall, tell of Jesus as the one who catches souls. They depict Jesus as fisherman, for example. In fact, Jesus called St. Peter to fish for souls. The hunt for souls, on the other hand, is a rather unusual motif, but one that can be found in the Christian tradition. This image of Jesus perhaps does not correspond to the image we have of him as a peaceful, compassionate and tender person. Nevertheless, it appeals to me because of the energy it implies. You can see the fire as Jesus shoots. He actually came to baptize with Holy Spirit and fire (Luke 3:16). Sure, for many souls he may have to wait patiently, like a fisherman sitting on the shore or in his boat. Here, however, the divine hunter is most active. He is on the hunt for souls. He really wants to hit them. The fact that he is surrounded by the three virtues shows that it is not about destroying animals or metaphorically souls or even killing people. On the contrary – it is about winning them. Some people need to be hunted. Does that appeal to you? St. Paul was one of them: He, who persecuted the Christians, had to be chased by the Lord himself, had to be thrown from his horse to catch him. Jesus wanted Paul as he was, with this potential, even with his aggressiveness, and to channel this energy in the right direction. God knew that it was not easy to catch Paul, because there was a lot of resistance on his part.

Lord, search me when I want to hide. Chase me, pursue me when I try to flee, shoot me – my heart will be wounded, but that will give me new life, indestructible life. It will enable me to be life-giving myself, as you were, dear Jesus. Don’t give up on me until you have found me. And when you have hit me, help me to win other people for you, if it is your will.

Listening to the Soft Voice

Our brain is made to think. That’s why we have thoughts in our heads most of the time, sometimes non-stop, sometimes a little quieter. The monks, when they withdraw from the noisy outside world, learn to study the thoughts and voices in their minds. There are all kinds of thoughts. Good ones and bad ones. Those that come from God and bring peace, healing and joy, and those that do not come from God and bring confusion, negativity and ultimately destruction. Which voices are stronger? How do they sound? The prophet Elijah found out when he withdrew and took shelter in a cave:

“There was a strong and violent wind rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the Lord—but the Lord was not in the wind; after the wind, an earthquake—but the Lord was not in the earthquake; after the earthquake, fire—but the Lord was not in the fire; after the fire, a light silent sound.” (1 Kings 19:11-12)

The loudest thoughts in our heads are not necessarily the healthiest. Okay, when I’m hanging off a cliff and my head is screaming: Hold on so you don’t fall – a healthy voice. But often loud voices blame others, accuse others or ourselves, criticize, put down, make a wish that can’t be fulfilled at that moment – they are not helpful. It is good to let them die down or, if possible, to stop them. Strangely enough, it is precisely in such situations that God “sneaks in” with a quiet voice – as here with Elijah. It makes sense to get to know this soft voice.

Why does God speak with a quiet voice? He can also speak loudly, that is easy for him. But often he doesn’t – why? Perhaps he respects my freedom and doesn’t want to force me. He trusts that I can find the right thing. He is gentle. And merciful. Another reason could be that he wants us to really listen. Only when we hear the sound voice we become able to really listen what is said to us. Elijah, hearing the light silent sound, went out, stood at the entrance of the cave and listen to what God had to say him.

Lord, make your voice audible to me. Let your voice be so characteristic that I can distinguish it from other voices. Don’t let me be too impressed when I am bombarded by many and loud voices. Your voice is so healing. I long for it.

Whatever you do with love

Sometimes we are not successful. Sometimes we have done things in vain. Sometimes we have put a lot of effort in something, but it did not turn out the way we wanted. There are many things that can interfere, the weather, stupid accidents, our health. Often it is the people who don’t go along what we had aimed for, our bosses, our colleagues. Sometimes it is the evil one who crosses out our plans. At times, it’s just ouselves who are too weak.

Our reaction to all of this is crucial. A first response could be immediate frustration, anger, even depression. And the question is: Why? Why not? Why me? The only salvation in these moments is to detach from the situation and try to look from the point of view of God. What would He say? What will he say, when he comes again? He will not only and not necessarily look at the outcome of our deeds, efforts, and dreams, he will look how we did all of this. Did we do it with love? Whatever we have done with love cannot have been in vain. Our love in itself was worth it. Even if people don’t see it, even if the fruit does not show, we acted out of the right motivation. A love you have spent for somebody or for a group has always an effect, even if it cannot be seen, yet.

We could approach our daily life in this way. It is enough if we do what we do with love. It will change me, it will change the world. “Faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love,” says St. Paul (1 Cor 13:13). These three are never given in vain. If this would not be the case, the life, the passion, and the death of Jesus would have been totally without any sense. His mission ended without success. But because it was done out of love for his father, out of love for his brothers and sisters, his mission finally reached its goal, until today. If we follow him in these manner, our life will make sense, no matter what happens.

Lord, let me work to love more, every day. Let not a single day go by without a good deed done out of love, a faithfulness motivated by love, a creativity inspired by love. You are love, and I thank you that you love me. Help me not to forget to love myself. Come, o Holy Spirit of love!

Hot-Cold, Bumpy-Smooth, Risky-Safe

We freeze vanilla ice cream. We heat raspberries. And then we put the ice-cold cream and the hot fruit together and eat them! We do strange things. There used to be a bumpy gravel road behind our monastery school. We spent a lot of money to asphalt it. But because people were driving too fast on the beautiful road, we put speed bumps on it. Now the cars drive in a slalom. Life is interesting. People take off their clothes. And then they apply sunscreen to protect their skin. That’s understandable: we want to get a tan, we want to avoid the dust on the road, and we love to enjoy ice cream and hot raspberries. But if you look at it closely, it’s all a bit strange.

Sometimes our heart, our soul is the same. Things don’t go well together. Things do not harmonize at first glance. Things in our inner life are contradictory. I want one thing and do another, says St. Paul (cf. Rom 7:19). We try to tidy up our soul, but it seems to be even messier. I don’t understand myself. But when I look at life in general: life is hot-cold, bumpy-smooth, risky-safe. Why should my inner life be any different? But what really gives me comfort is the belief that God sees me as I am. That he knows me. That he puts together what doesn’t seem to fit together. That he loves me, even in my ambiguity. When I know this, I don’t have to run away from myself and can face who I am and how I am. As it says in Psalm 139:

Lord, you have searched me, you know me:
Where can I go from your spirit?
    From your presence, where can I flee?
If I ascend to the heavens, you are there;
    if I lie down in Sheol, there you are.
If I take the wings of dawn
    and dwell beyond the sea,
Even there your hand guides me,
    your right hand holds me fast.
If I say, “Surely darkness shall hide me,
    and night shall be my light”
Darkness is not dark for you,
    and night shines as the day.
    Darkness and light are but one.
You formed my inmost being;
    you knit me in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, because I am wonderfully made;
    wonderful are your works!
    My very self you know.

God sees everything. He holds me firmly. He guides me along the way, even when I take detours; in his eyes everything will be fine. I thank him with awe: 

How precious to me are your designs, O God;
    how vast the sum of them!

Auguste Rodin: Hand of God


Compassion for people with a face like flint

There is so much suffering in the world. Near and far. I think of the people in regions where there is war and terror. Many innocent people have to go through terrible things. Sometimes for a long time. A sentence from the third song of the Lord’s Servant in Isaiah comes to mind: “Therefore I have set my face like flint” (Isaiah 50:7). It is terrible when someone – in order to survive injustice and suffering – has to make their face as hard as stone. Just as Jesus did before Pontius Pilate. Normally our cheeks are soft and sensitive. I remember in my youth seeing mothers testing the temperature of their children’s milk bottles on their cheeks.

What can we, who are not affected by this fate, do when we see the suffering in the news, on social media or in our neighborhoods? At least we can let it touch our hearts. St. Paul says: “If one part suffers, all the other parts suffer with it.” (1 Cor 12:26) Let’s be compassionate! We can carry this suffering to the cross of Jesus on behalf of the suffering people. We can, like Mother Mary stand with her Son, beside the cross. As the ancient sequence Stabat Mater sings:

At the Cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last. (…)

Is there one who would not weep,
Whelm’d in miseries so deep,
Christ’s dear Mother to behold?

Since the suffering must remain strong and apathetic, since they cannot allow themselves to be emotional or to cry, since they must make their cheeks hard, we can at least be touched by what they are going through. We can cry for them and hope that this cry reaches heaven.

Lord, let me learn and practice compassion. Look upon all those who suffer. Give them strength, give them hope, give them people to comfort them. Let their angels be with them. Let your holy suffering be their salvation.

Skipping along like a Child of God

One of my fondest childhood memories is when I went for a walk with my father, he took me by the hand and I skipped along. In fact, I have seen many fathers or mothers walking like this since then, and one reason for the child’s skipping is certainly that his or her steps are shorter and so he or she can follow more easily. But you also see young animals hopping. It seems to be an expression of youth – and joy. When I see a child skipping, it looks to me as if it wants to get closer to heaven. Every step is a hop.

Jesus says: “Let the children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” Mt 19:14

Another – perhaps somewhat unusual – thought: children’s skulls are very soft when they are born. So that they can pass through at birth. The skull only hardens over time. Here, too, we see an “openness” of the children towards heaven. They have come from heaven and still “know” it, they are still in contact with it. And in the hands of their loving parents, they still feel “at home” and free and secure, as if they were in heaven.

Have you, dear reader, tried to hop your way again since then? Perhaps your hips or your knees (or your belly) no longer allow it… You could try it. Just a few steps. You too are a child of God!