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Prayer for Courage and the Spirit of the Enterprise


I have no idea who wrote the following prayer. I don't even know if it's Catholic in origin, but it was given to Catholic high school students in my home diocese when they (we) took part in a weekend - and then an ongoing program - aimed at Christian growth. I've thought, especially, about the second-to-last paragraph (the last long paragraph) over the years, as I've watched friends who were on fire for Jesus settle into a life of hobbit-sense, sometimes in the name of security, accepting compromises they'd sworn they never would.

Writing these last two essays about Frodo made me think enough about the prayer that I took out a "song book" (a folder with hole-punched pages) from 1971 to read the whole thing again. It certainly speaks to the idealism of youth, but it also reminds me of Frodo. By the time most people hit middle age, their responsibilities for their children mean that the most Christian way of living for them does involve the need for some stability and security. For Frodo, and me, and a lot of other Catholics who've followed the less common path, the spirit of the enterprise as spoken of in this prayer is something to continue to strive for, as it has been over the years while others have been "setting up house":

PRAYER FOR COURAGE AND THE SPIRIT OF THE ENTERPRISE

Lord, I want to belong to those whose lives are venturesome, whose lives are devoted to your cause. What would be the meaning of life, if it should not be to give it back to you from whom I have received it. Yes, I am just run of the mill in a mediocre world. I am a product of the age of "security." I have been led to believe that every change in life has been foreseen and cared for.

I am for "order." I want security for my country, my family, my money. Lord, you were born in a place that was not your own and died on the cross as a criminal after you had wandered through the land without the "necessary means." Wrench me from my selfishness and comfort.

I sign myself with the cross. Let me not fear a hard life of work where the risk of life and great responsibility summon me. Let me have, O Lord, instead of a worldly and empty enthusiasm, a sincere readiness for that glorious adventure to which you summon me. At your word, Lord, I should risk my life, dare my life out of love of you. Others may be more intelligent, but you have told me that in the eyes of the world, one must be considered a fool.

Others put their trust in assurances; but you ask me to put my trust in your love. Others endeavor to keep, but you have commissioned me to give. Others are setting up house; but you have asked me to go forth ready for joy and suffering, success and failure, trusting not in myself but in you; to gamble the Christian game without worrying about the outcome, and, finally, to dare my own life by placing my trust in your love.

Lord, how extraordinary it is to be a Christian!


Writing these essays and rereading this prayer has also been a wake-up call to me about how lackadaisical I've become in using the opportunities given with the gift of a vocation to the single life. Tomorrow will be the first Sunday of Advent - the first day of the new liturgical year, and the day I usually make any new year's resolutions. I know what the most important one will be this year.


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