Rectitude of Intention

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

We’re told in the Gospel of St. Matthew, “Be careful not to parade your uprightness in public to attract attention; otherwise you will lose all reward from your Father in heaven.”

Our Lord is speaking about the Pharisees, encouraging us to have the right intention when we do things. That right intention was very often lacking in the Pharisees.

He continued, “So when you give alms, do not have it trumpeted before you; this is what the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets to win human admiration.”

Our Lord highlights the danger of vanity, the desire to be well thought of, that others might see our good works in the wrong sense, for our own glory and not for the glory of God.

The passage continues, “In truth I tell you, they have received their award. But when you give alms, your left hand must not know what your right hand is doing; your almsgiving must be in secret, and your Father who sees all that is done in secret will reward you” (Matt. 6:1-3).

Our Lord places a lot of importance on having that rectitude in our intentions. We’re also told in St. Matthew, “Set your hearts on his kingdom first, and on God’s saving justice, and all these other things will be given you as well” (Matt. 6:33).

Our Lord came back to that idea on many occasions when people followed Him, hoping that He was going to work miracles. On one occasion, He said, “In all truth I tell you, you are looking for me not because you have seen the signs but because you had all the bread you wanted to eat” (John 6:26).

He sees that people are following Him for the wrong reasons. They were looking for something to eat. They were not looking for Him and His teaching and His ideas.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem…how often would I have gathered you under my wings, as a hen gathers her brood, but you did not want” (Matt. 23:37).

“Alas for you, scribes and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You pay your tithe of mint and dill and cummin and have neglected the weightier matters of the Law—justice, mercy, good faith! These you should have practiced and those, not neglected. You blind guides…” (Matt. 23:23-24). Our Lord says some very strong things when speaking to the Pharisees.

St. Paul says, “…and whatever you say or do, let it be in the name of the Lord Jesus, in thanksgiving to God the Father through him” (Col. 3:17).

St. Josemaría one time was showing some people sculptures on the top of the Burgos Cathedral, sculptures that could not be seen from below. He was pointing out that this work was done by the stonemasons to give glory to God (Josemaría Escrivá, Friends of God, Point 65).

He said similar things when he found a chalice with an important jewel, a beautiful jewel hidden underneath the base of the chalice, where nobody could see it, but where God could see it. And so, he encouraged people in their work to have that idea of giving all the glory to God, of letting our work be unseen by others, but yet done well in order to please God.

We could ask Our Lord that we might have a supernatural goal in everything we do. It’s the only really worthwhile intention for us to have.

We could ask that we might declare war on the desire to be well regarded. ‘I want to give all the glory to God, Deo omnis gloria.’

Somebody pointed out once that the weather pays no attention to criticism. The weather carries on. And so, we should never find meaning in the praise and adoration of others.

Malcolm Muggeridge once said that it often happens that the real reason for doing something only emerges after it has been done.

Often, we might think that we’re doing something for very altruistic reasons, and it may be that there is an altruistic aspect; we do it to help other people.

Perhaps when the action has passed, and a few days later you look back, you might have to admit that while there were altruistic reasons for doing that particular action, maybe it was only 30 percent altruistic; 70 percent was because there was ‘something for me in it.’

Altruism can also hide a lot of pride, love of self, love of me. So, we can ask Our Lord that we might have lights to see our lack of rectitude of intention—all the wrong reasons why I did things—so that we may purify that intention. Often that lack of rectitude can be in small, subtle things which are difficult to detect.

St. Paul says to the Ephesians, “I do not cease to give thanks for you…that the God of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him” (Eph. 1:16-17). A spirit of wisdom, to see things in all their clarity, to have a certain priority of motives for our conduct.

Theology tells us that one of the most important aspects of the moral act is the intention. If you take care of that intention, it can affect an action very much.

As rational creatures, we have to give glory to God with our reason and with our will. Irrational creatures give glory to God just by existing. The cow, the goat, the dog—they don’t have intellect and will.

But human persons are called to give glory to God with our intellect and will. “Be you perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).

Doing things with virtue reflects an aspect of divine glory. [Jesus] says, “Let your light so shine before others, that they see your good deeds and give glory to your Father in heaven” (Matt. 5:16). We are asked to shine especially in charity. To want to do things well all the time can also be an expression of love of me, so that I shine.

The radicality of Christian life requires that we go beyond what is convenient or easy or comfortable. It requires that we go the extra mile.

A good question to ask ourselves occasionally is: Is the glory of God the motive of all my actions? Original sin has made that difficult because we can get distracted from the prime goal that should be there.

The devil can tempt us to keep our vision down. He can lead us to turn our work or our family concerns or the material things that we use into instruments of our own glory, to seek ourselves.

If we become disheartened with our own failure, that can be a sign that perhaps we’re seeking ourselves—my success, my glory. It can lead us to a deeper examination of our intentions.

What happens when the plans I have for today change, when things don’t work out the way I had hoped? Do I become despondent or sad or discouraged?

We can look to the life of the Holy Family, when their plans changed, when they had to go to Bethlehem, when they had to go to Egypt, when they had to go back to Nazareth. Their whole life was a series of change of plans. Yet we see the Holy Family always wanting to fulfill the plans of God at whatever personal cost it might entail.

Lord, help me not to look for recognition. Help me to give you thanks always and everywhere, as we’re told in the Preface of the Mass.

Each moment is an opportunity to give thanks to God, to realize that if we manage to do anything well or produce any fruits, it’s because of the graces that God gives us.

Lord, help me not to be overwritten by my vanity and a desire to shine. Help me not to work intensely only when the results can be seen. Help me to do many little acts during the day that remain hidden to other people’s eyes, that pass unnoticed but hopefully give you glory in a beautiful way.

One of the ways that we show our rectitude of intention as we go through our day is giving God priority.

There was a lady once who stood up at a get together with Blessed Álvaro in Dublin and said she had many things to do every day.

She had to do the washing and the ironing and the cleaning and the cooking, she had eight children, she had to bring her children to school. She asked, “How could I find time in my busy day to fulfill the norms each day, a plan of life?”

Blessed Álvaro said to her, “It’s true, the list of things you have to do is impressive. You’ve got a long litany of chores in your day.

“But,” he said, “you’ve left something out of your list. You’ve left God out of your list. If you put God into your list and you put Him first, then you’ll have time for all the other things.”

Often our rectitude is shown in putting God first, with faith, with hope, with struggle. When there are moments of pressure, when there are deadlines, maybe when there are exams or things we have to fulfill, still it’s time to stop and get my spiritual reading done, or my Gospel reading, or my Rosary, or my Morning Prayer.

I have to try and get this particular job or work done on time, being punctual in things, punctual for a meeting—a sign of rectitude.

When we live that rectitude of intention in all the things we do, St. Paul says we give off the bonus odor Christi, “the good odor of Christ” (2 Cor. 2:15).

People begin to see Christ in the things we do, in our words. Rectitude of intention can be expressed in our love of spirit of service, of wanting to serve other people no matter what that may entail, even the complication of our own plans. It’s a great thing to have a service orientation in my home, with my family, in my workplace, among my colleagues.

We shouldn’t have a desire to be somebody at the expense of other people. It’s a very good thing to want to be somebody, to do work well, to establish a certain amount of professional prestige—these can help our apostolate no end, but all for the glory of God, not for me.

If we do everything in the course of our life for the glory of God, maybe being somebody because it helps our apostolate, then the day will come when perhaps we’re a nobody and that won’t matter.

We’ll be happy to be a nobody because we’ll see ‘I give the glory of God in this way now also.’ The honors and praises or acclamations that may have been there one day, maybe there are no more of those things or in the background. And we’re happy in the background, because we’ve had the right intention all along.

One way of putting right our intention as we go through our day can be to repeat our Morning Offering, those words that we say when we get up in the morning: “O Jesus, through the most pure heart of Mary, I offer thee all my thoughts, words, actions, sufferings, feelings of this day.”

Maybe complications, pieces of bad news, things that may not work out—I offer those things to you. And in this moment when I’m stuck in the traffic jam or this other piece of news has come, I repeat my Morning Offering. I tell you that I mean those words that I said in this particular moment.

Blessed Álvaro had a very nice phrase. He used to say that with one act of love, we can make up for many lacks of love. One act of faith can make up for many lacks of faith.

Lord, I want to find something divine in this ordinary moment, and this bad feeling, and this headache, in this sickness, in this moment of being overwhelmed or whatever it may be, or this interruption that has come at a crucial moment, this phone ringing, it’s a divine call.

We’re told in a certain moment, “They came to him from Capernaum, and when he was in the house, he asked them, ‘What were you discussing on the way?’ But they were silent, for on the way, they had discussed with one another who was the greatest” (Mark 9:33-34).

These apostles, very specially chosen by God to found His Church, had been discussing among themselves which of them was the greatest. They’d been indulging in pride, a great lack of rectitude of intention.

They must have been a bit embarrassed when Our Lord asked them that question and they had to admit. “He sat down and called the Twelve and said to them, ‘If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all’” (Mark 9:35).

It’s interesting how the Pope was given a certain title down through history, servus servorum Dei, the “Servant of the servants of God,” calling to serve.

Jesus, may I always have that attitude of service. Help me to be growing in service; growing in service in the things that I do, in my work well done; also in my attitude, in my availability, in my desires, in my growth and formation, whatever it is, human, cultural, professional, so as to give better service all the time.

“And he took a child and put him in the midst of them, and taking him in his arms”—it’s a very beautiful moment, these gestures of Our Lord get the message across very clearly—“he said to them, ‘Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me’” (Mark 9:36-37).

Children in those days were not given much importance, but He invites them to receive even that child that “in my name receives me.”

‘I am there in that person. I am there in the person who was lying on the side of the road that the good Samaritan found’ (Luke 10:25-37). Christ is there in all those people.

When we practice that rectitude, we can be sure we find the cross. There can be no share in God’s glory without the cross.

There may be many crosses that came in this 21st century, very particular to this particular century: sentiments of abandonment, of discouragement, of material things not working out, or our employment, or a lot of weight on our shoulders. Our Lord invites us to put love into these situations.

What makes a martyr is not the hatred, but the excellence of charity which is practiced in those moments. Our Lord clarified that situation of the apostles, talking about which of them was going to be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

The fact that the apostles can indulge in such discussions with all their formation shows us their weakness. It shows us the weakness of fallen human nature; how original sin has messed us up. We’re all capable of the most terrible things. We’re all capable of the greatest lack of rectitude.

When we go to Confession each week, it can be a good thing to examine our conscience: Where did I have a lack of rectitude in this week? Was there an appetite for glory or greatness?

Did it find its expression, that appetite that seems inbred in us, that desire to be somebody for the wrong reason, instead of being happy to be a nobody? That feeling perhaps when we were passed over or not invited or not recognized—these are great moments to be more Christ-like and to remember that dramatic gesture of Christ embracing the child.

It was to show His disciples who is really the greatest in the kingdom of God. It’s like a divine call to be simple, open, transparent.

“What can a little child possibly teach us about greatness? Children in the ancient world had no rights, they had no position, no privileges of their own. Socially, they were at the bottom of the rung, at the service of their parents.

“Yet Christ chooses them and places them with a significant gesture. He elevates a little child in the presence of His disciples, placing that child in a privileged position of honor.

“He shows us this is the model to imitate a little bit—the one who is humble and lowly of heart, the one who, instead of asserting their rights, willingly empties themselves of their pride, of their self-seeking glory, by taking the lowly position of a servant or of a child” (cf. Don Schwager, The Gospel of Luke).

We are reminded of that phrase of St. Paul, “Though he was by nature God, he did not consider being equal to God a thing to be clung to, but emptied himself, taking the nature of a slave and being made like unto men and appearing in the form of man, he humbled himself…” (Phil. 2:6-8).

On Holy Thursday, Our Lord girded a towel around him and got a basin and began to wash the feet of the apostles (John 13:3-5). That amazing gesture has been made part of the liturgy of Holy Thursday for all time.

We might want to imitate Christ in His spirit of service. He came “not to be served but to serve” (Matt. 20:28). He wants us to cultivate that service orientation in everything we do.

If we are in the business of teaching people in the domestic Church, in our home, or in a classroom, or in some teaching institution, it’s very good to give a lot of importance in teaching people and training them to have that service orientation. It’s a way whereby the work of those people, no matter what work it is, can be more effective.

Christ lowered Himself, He whose place was at the right hand of God the Father. He took our lowly nature so that He might raise us up and clothe us in His divine nature.

We’re told in the Letter of St. James, “God opposes the proud but gives his grace to the humble” (James 4:6).

“If we want to be filled with God’s life and power, we need to empty ourselves of everything which stands in the way: our pride, our self-seeking glory, our vanity” (Schwager, idem.), everything whereby the ‘me’ may shine out, that clever expression or clever joke that everybody may laugh at, and maybe nobody laughs.

God wants empty vessels so that He can fill them with His own glory, His power, His love (cf. 2 Cor. 4:7).

We’re told in The Way, “All the glory to God. It is an emphatic confession of our nothingness. He, Jesus, is everything. We, without him, are worth nothing: nothing. Our vainglory would be just that, vain glory; it would be a sacrilegious robbery. There should be no room for that ‘I’ anywhere” (J. Escrivá, The Way, Point 780).

Our Lord tells us in Scripture that “we cannot serve two masters” (Matt. 6:24). It means that we shouldn’t seek gratitude or recognition. And if on some occasion, we’re not thanked for something, that’s a very good thing to offer to Our Lord, uniting ourselves to all those times when He was not thanked, when He received rejection instead of recognition.

Our Christian vocation brings us to give God everything, to hold nothing back, to purify that intention more and more each day and perhaps to use the contradictions that may come our way, or the crosses, to purify that intention a little more.

Jesus, what is it that I’m really looking for? Help me to purify that intention, to seek only your glory.

We can lack rectitude of intention even in our prayer. We could be praying for the wrong reason, to get it done, so that somebody will be happy with us when we tell them that we did our prayer or our spiritual reading.

God is waiting for us in each moment of our life, hoping that we live a unity in our life, putting our faith into practice in concrete ways. He purifies us, purifies our heart.

St. Josemaría liked to say, ‘Lord, separate me from anything that separates me from you, open my eyes to see those things that I may not be aware of.”

Often, we may see some aspects of our pride, but there may be huge aspects of our pride that we’re not even aware of.

Help me to have rectitude of intention in my Christian vocation, in the work that I do, my efforts to lift up the spiritual temperature where I live, where you’ve placed me.

Help me to have rectitude of intention in my family life, in my generosity, in my service, in my obedience.

Help me to have that rectitude of intention when I might have sentiments of annoyance or when I’m not feeling well or I’m tired or I’m wrong or I’m not consulted, or I’m not informed. Why was I not told? Why was I not informed? Why have I been passed over? These are great moments to be more Christ-like, to live our rectitude of intention.

Help me, Lord, to do things because that’s the Christian way of acting or functioning. Help me to be the good Samaritan, not to be seen by other people but to give you glory.

Help me to do things well in the right way, not just because it’s efficient or it’s pleasing or it’s the way I like to do things, but let it be for your glory.

And may that be true in all the fulfillment of the little jobs that I may have to do in my home or in my work—attention to small things.

On one occasion, St. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, you know all things, you know that I love you” (John 21:17). God reads the heart, and He reads our heart in all situations.

The signs of good rectitude of intention in our life are the effort to get the norms of our plan of life done, and done on time: the effort to take care of little things, folding things properly, closing doors, opening windows, putting things on their latch, offering our work before we do it, and occasionally while we do it, lifting our eyes to look at a crucifix or an image of Our Lady.

If some hours of the day have passed by and we haven’t lived the presence of God or we haven’t offered our work, that can be a moment to make it a collective contrition for those hours that have passed or those days that have passed, and rectify our situation.

That desire to rectify can also lead us to make a good Confession, to start over, to begin again. Sometimes St. Josemaría went to Confession a few times in a week.

There can be a great joy of rectifying, of seeing I didn’t do this thing well, or I could have done better. I didn’t do it with love, so now I put right that intention.

Nothing is lost. St. Paul says, “All things turn out for the good for those who love God” (Rom. 8:28). Omnia in bonum—very true in the life of someone who’s trying to live a rectitude in everything they do.

We can ask Our Lord: Lord, may all my actions begin from you and end in you. Actiones nostras, quaésumus Dómine, aspirando praéveni et adiuvando proséquere (Roman Missal, Collect for Thursday after Ash Wednesday). Help to come about in and through you. May everything I do be pleasing in your eyes. May it give you glory.

There’s a beautiful prayer that the Church has placed before us, which is the Te Deum. “To you God, we give you glory.”

It is a good prayer to take out and go through sometimes, slowly, in our Thanksgiving after Mass or in other moments. Or maybe to take the prayer of the Gloria of the Mass, say it slowly, meaning every word.

We’re told in the Furrow: “Reject any ambition for honors. Think instead about your duties, how to do them well, and the instruments you need to accomplish them. —In this way, you will not hanker for position, and if one comes you will see it just as it is: a burden to bear in the service of souls” (J. Escrivá, Furrow, Point 976).

There may be little jobs that come our way, things we’re asked to do at work or in other moments. They might be things that excite our interest, but they might not be.

But we try and see it as “a burden to bear in the service of souls.” If this is what you want of me, Lord, at this particular moment, help me to do it. Help me to fulfill it with the spirit of service.

Rectitude of intention in the final analysis is a fruit of charity. ‘I want to put love into practice in the ordinary things I do, love of God and love of others.’

That love “does not seek its own interests, it is not quick-tempered, it does not brood over injury” (1 Cor. 13:5).

We have to try and see the situations where there lacks of rectitude of intention. We can see how that can decrease our effectiveness in our apostolate.

If we have rectitude, we’ll see that problems get solved by facing them with fortitude.

We’re told in The Way, “It only takes a second. Before setting about anything, ask yourself: What does God want of me in this? Then with divine grace, do it!” (J. Escrivá, The Way, Point 778).

“St. Paul says, ‘I can do all things in Him who strengthens me’ (Phil. 4:13). With him, there is no possibility of failure, and this conviction gives rise to the holy ‘superiority complex’ whereby we take on things with the spirit of victory, because God grants us his strength” (ibid., The Forge, Point 337).

If we have that spirit of rectitude, we’ll take care of little things. We won’t allow other things to take priority over the norms of our plan of life.

There’s a story told of St. Pope John Paul II, who one time was traveling on a plane to some country that he was going to visit, and he was doing his Breviary.

A cardinal came and wanted to interrupt him saying there’s something very important. The pope said, “It can wait till I’m finished.”

The cardinal tried to interrupt the pope with this very important piece of news that had come three times, but each time the pope told him to wait, because he was doing his Breviary. That had to come first. First things must come first. That great sense of importance.

We can ask Our Lord that we might not have human reasons for doing things, too human an outlook. Help us to rely more on God.

If ever we make a mistake, or say something that’s wrong and we come to realize it later, maybe we come back and tell the people who may have heard us expressing that opinion: “I was wrong and I will change the particular thing that I said on that other occasion, because now I know something better.”

One time, St. Josemaría had mentioned something in a lunchtime get-together in Rome, and later on he learned another piece of information that changed that matter. He called together all the people who had been present at that get-together and rectified publicly what he had said. He clarified that if he had had that extra piece of information at the time, he would not have said what he said. He had the humility to rectify and do so publicly.

We can turn to Our Lady, whom we see lived with a great rectitude. “Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done unto me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

The sky is the limit. I’m here to do whatever you want, whatever you ask of me. That’s what I’m here for. That’s what it’s all about.

Lord, may we learn how to imitate Our Lady and live that rectitude in all the things that you give us to do each day.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

DWM