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The Deacon's Bench

Department of Shameless Self-Promotion: the folks at Busted Halo have just posted a reflection by Your Humble Blogger, with a thought or two on a familiar form of Catholic prayer:

The other day, while I was unfolding my New York Post—there’s a confession for you!—I caught sight of a very serious young woman seated across from me, hands folded, eyes closed. Her lips moved. And as I looked down at her hands, I noticed they were fingering beads.

She was praying the rosary.

I’ve seen that before—it’s a New York phenomenon, a prayerful habit that suggests that we are a distinctly devout city, full of immigrants and varied cultures that are constantly rubbing up against each other and giving people a lot of reasons to pray. But this morning, I found it unexpectedly moving. This young woman was in prayer. But a special, profoundly personal kind of prayer.

Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

In a hole in the ground, clattering under a river, surrounded by darkness and strangers, one of the anonymous throng that had been herded into a tin box was praying to a woman full of grace.

Curious? Wander over to the Halo for the rest. Tell them hello for me!

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