The other day, a California TV station gave a heartbreaking glimpse at what is happening to thousands of people right now.

It reported on an area near Pasadena known as “foreclosure alley” – a part of the state where 700 families a day are losing their homes. And it followed a cleanup crew going from house to house to do what they call a “trash out” – taking anything left behind and tossing it into a dumpster. People had left behind everything from birth certificates to urns containing ashes. Furniture, computers, clothing – it was incredible. The company doing the “trash out” is booming. Two years ago, they had three employees. Now they have 73.

Meantime, around the country, millions of us are watching other investments disappear. A New York banking executive was interviewed, and he said: “The worst thing that is happening right now is that there’s no trust, no faith in the system as a whole.”

No trust. No faith.

If there is one clear message we get from the readings this weekend, it is not to abandon faith…but to embrace it. But don’t invest it in financial institutions that collapse. Don’t even invest it in a vineyard – where, as the gospel warns, tenants may kill the owner’s son.

Put your faith someplace better.

“Have no anxiety at all,” Paul writes to the Philippians. “But in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known to God. Then the peace of God that surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.”

Mind you, this was written by a man who was in prison, and had good reason to have a lot of anxiety. But what moved Paul and uplifted him was his concern and love for the people of Philippi.

And he urged them, simply, to pray.

This past week, I started reading “The Duty of Delight”, the diaries of Dorothy Day. It’s a massive book, about 600 pages long. And one of the things that strikes you again and again is how much prayer was at the center of her life. The rosary. The Liturgy of the Hours. Daily mass. Even when she had time for nothing else…between the menial labor of running the Catholic Worker, traveling the country, lecturing, raising money, attending peace protests, whatever…she found time to “sanctify the day” by turning her heart and mind to God.

And she understood that prayer could take many forms. Her writing was a kind of prayer. Walking along the beach at Staten Island was a prayer. Spending an hour with the poor, or the mad, or the lonely and just being present to their fear and uncertainty was a prayer. I think that is part of what Paul is talking about when he advises the Philippians, “In everything…make your requests known to God.”

Make of everything a prayer to the One who made you.

One part of Dorothy Day’s story is particularly moving. It’s something she never wrote about publicly. And as I said to my wife, this is what it means to be a saint.

In the 1920s, Dorothy had lived with a man named Forster Batterham. Together, they had a daughter. But he had no use for religion, was skeptical of Dorothy’s conversion, and he didn’t want to get married. So they separated. But for the rest of their lives, they stayed in touch. In 1959, his mistress, a woman named Nanette, was dying of cancer. Forster – in an act of monumental chutzpah — asked Dorothy if she would come and help care for his mistress. Incredibly, she did. She moved in with them and did housekeeping and ran errands. On the day before she died, Nanette asked to be baptized. And she was. Dorothy and Forster then once again went their separate ways.

I can’t think of a more poignant example of someone being Christ for another.

And it illustrates also what Paul was talking about in his letter – what is true…honorable…just…pure…lovely…gracious. All of those describe that singular act of charity that Dorothy Day performed for someone she would have every right to despise. Her diary makes clear it was difficult, with a lot of tension.

But she didn’t do it alone. If there is one thing I’ve been able to glean from the diaries of Dorothy Day, it’s this: we bring grace to the turmoil of our lives by prayer.

That is what St. Paul is telling us.

That is how our anxieties are calmed…our fears are dispelled…our hearts consoled and strengthened. Prayer.

This month, October, is dedicated to one kind of prayer in particular, the Holy Rosary. And I can think of no better time to take up this devotion and to make it a part of our lives. I know, it’s not the most exciting form of prayer. A friend of mine who prays it regularly says it makes her drowsy. St. Theresa of Lisieux used to have a hard time staying awake during her morning prayers, and she came to understand that maybe that’s not so terrible. Doctors operate when we sleep, she said, and God can operate on us, too.

So try the rosary. Next Sunday, we’ll be having the Living Rosary outside, after the 1 pm mass. I urge you to join us if you can. Even just one decade can make a difference.

We are living in uncertain times. But we have a powerful weapon in our hearts, and in our hands. A priest I know once went to see Dorothy Day speak and he said she always had beads in her hands. Even while speaking, or listening, she’d have her hands clasped behind her back, her fingers constantly working the rosary. It was like a fuel that kept her going. Prayer is like that.

It gave Dorothy Day the strength and determination to create a movement, to love the unlovable, and to bring a dying woman to Christ.

Imagine what prayer can do for the rest of us.