July 15, 2026

Fr. John Riccardo

I readily admit I have very few original thoughts. Rather, I’ve always found great joy in making others aware of great minds and, even more, great souls. It is a joy for me to pass along to others books, articles and talks I come across that have had a profound impact on my life, in the hopes that they will similarly impact others.

Several years ago I was introduced by a friend to Bishop Erik Varden of Trondheim, Norway. His is a fresh and unique voice in the Church, a fascinating combination of an academic, a monk, and a man from Scandinavia with many references to people and material with which I was not previously familiar. I first came across his excellent book, Chastity: Reconciliation of the Senses, then The Shattering of Loneliness: On Christian Remembrance, Entering the Twofold Mystery: On Christian Conversion, and finally Healing Wounds. They are all well worth a read, perhaps especially in these summer days. I’ve more or less binge-read or watched anything and everything I can find of the good bishop.

Recently, a friend of mine shared with me a talk he gave to priests in Portugal several years ago (https://coramfratribus.com/life-illumined/to-priests-on-prayer/). I am going to be reflecting on this in prayer for many weeks to come. Though it was a presentation to priests, most of it, at least what I have shared below, is applicable to a much wider audience. I pray you’ll enjoy this as much as I do, ordained or not, and take to heart the wisdom of this very good shepherd.

“[Saint Athanasius] likens Christ, the Father’s Word, to the concert pitch by which an orchestra’s instruments are tuned. Christ, through whom and for whom all things were made, is the one principle by which creation reveals its coherence. This applies to the macrocosm of the still expanding universe; it applies no less to the microcosm of our lives. Only by conducting our lives in Christ, abiding in him, obeying his commandments, sure of the redemptive power of his cross and resurrection, do we find wholeness and freedom. …

“To pray well we must believe rightly. We must know in whom we have put our trust (2 Tim 1.12). Else, how could we abandon ourselves into God’s hands? Prayer is enlightened self-surrender. When the disciples asked the Lord, ‘Teach us how to pray’, he taught them how to live (Mt 6.9-13). …

“As priests, we are consecrated men. We have made of our lives a gift, vowing to keep giving it until death. To be a priest is not just to be trained for certain functions. To be a priest is to live an out-poured life. The essence of that life is prayer. Prayer is not an activity alongside other activities. Prayer is the atmosphere in which we subsist. Prayer is that tending towards God, that determined receptivity to grace, which should qualify our every moment, even when we sleep.

“To live in this way, we must learn to trust God. Do we? Doubt insinuates itself. Even if we do not doubt God’s existence, we may at times doubt his goodness. We yield to the serpent’s temptation, and think that God is like us: scheming and unreliable. As a result we stockpile comforts and securities. We make provisions, just in case, transferring the focus of our trust from God to us. And prayer dries up.

“Jesus told his disciples, ‘Not everyone who says to me “Lord, Lord”, will enter the kingdom of heaven’ (Matthew 7.21). He also said, ‘the kingdom of heaven is within you’ (Luke 17.21). Can I fail to enter a reality I carry within me? Yes. This particular reality is greater than I. To gain entrance, I must recognise my littleness. I must acknowledge who is King. That is tantamount to learning to pray.

“It is well to ask: Do I live my consecration in such a way that I can say, with regard to each aspect of my life, ‘Jesus is Lord’? Do I affirm Christ’s lordship over my instincts and appetites? Or do I keep pockets sewn up for private use, indulging desires, dreams and imaginings I have formally renounced? Is Jesus Lord over my passions? Or do I sub-let certain areas to myself, breathing on embers of resentment, enjoying the bitter draught of anger? Is Christ Lord of my past and my future? Or do I hug achievements, experiences, pleasures and hurts of distant years, while making plans for a tomorrow not my own? By examining ourselves in such terms we shall find whether our prayer is real or just the clanging of a gong (cf. 1 Cor 13.1).

“It is important to pursue this questioning honestly yet serenely. It is not a matter of beating ourselves up. Each ungiven thing I find within (or without, if it is a material object or possession) gives me the chance to reenact my priestly gift of self. That is a graced, joyful opportunity. In a recent book, the philosopher Zena Hitz writes about distractions in prayer: ‘Our distractions’, she submits, ‘are incursions of our real desires.’ I may recite devout phrases endlessly, but if my thoughts are on the position I craved but did not obtain, on a humiliation I have suffered, or on a sensual fantasy, my heart is not in my prayer. As the saying goes, … ‘If the heart does not pray, the tongue works in vain’. It is worth attending to our distractions, not to feed them, but to follow their trail to where our heart and so our treasure is, to make of it cheerfully a gift to the Lord (cf. 2 Cor 9.7). …

”On account of the composition of your assembly, I have spoken of priestly prayer. It goes without saying, though, that a universal application could be drawn from each point I have made. What matters is to believe in the efficacious reality of God’s love for us, then to resolve to let it act freely, come what may. This is the essence of prayer.

“To really pray we must drop our defenses and lay ourselves open. That may generate anxiety at first, but ultimately leads to assurance as we realise that God does save.”

The Atmosphere In Which We Live

For What Crown Are We Competing?