This past month, I met one-on-one and in small groups with several companions who were in the process of renewing their prayer and reflection. I was co-facilitating an online retreat called Living with the Word: A Month Praying Scripture. To a person, these conversations reinforced my appreciation for the many meaningful ways to pray. Some of my companions craved silence. Some used words. Some wrote. Some used crayons. Some talked. Some sang. Some people moved their bodies through walking, stretching, or dancing. Others sat still, finding a way to rest in the presence of the Divine.
Here are a few insights and themes I heard from this small community of pray-ers :
Prayer is Challenging
Listening to people talk about prayer, I often hear people grappling to find words that describe their approach. Some people claim that they don’t really know how to pray or even if they pray. These statements (which I have also uttered myself) are often combined with an assumption that others pray more frequently and elegantly than we do. But if we are honest, few of us pray like we wish we did. I have yet to speak to anyone about their spiritual life who has not struggled to sustain a meaningful practice–including every pastor I know and the Sisters I used to work with at the Monastery. We all yearn for a deeper connection to the Divine and we all endure very real human limitations as we reach toward God.
To Start: Build on What You Already Do
Many of us simply need a little help identifying what we are doing that is already prayerful and building on that. This has certainly been true for me. My colleague, Sam, helped me identify the way I engage with music as a prayer practice. Before his observation, I hadn’t thought about it that way before, but naming it as prayer helps me claim it in a different way and be more intentional about it. One of my companions this month was cultivating a habit of asking questions (rather than immediately arguing) when engaging difficult conversations or unwelcome opinions. When another companion pointed out that asking questions was one of Jesus’ regular spiritual practices, it gave this practice more meaning and depth. Naming and claiming what we are already doing as a form prayer can help us live into it more fully.
Prayer Comes Alive in Fresh Ways with Others
I wish more people could hear the kinds of humble and heart-full perspectives I encountered through my companions this month, Each person’s prayer life was beautifully unique. At the same time, there were similarities and synergies that came to life as we gathered and shared our experiences. There are some beautiful elements of our relationship with God that we encounter as individuals, especially as we seek silence. But the Spirit is truly present in different ways in community. It was a gift to be able to reflect on Scripture together and to know that this small group of people was intentionally praying for and with one another. The gift of presence offered by these companions feels especially meaningful during this year when so many of us have not been able to connect with friends, family and faith communities as we usually would. As we engaged in a conversation with one another and with God through our Scripture passages, the text themselves seemed to be having a mystical conversation with one another.
Show Up Authentically and Humbly
Whatever form our prayer lives take–whether alone or with companions, whether silent or speaking, whether moving or still– the first and most important step is to show up authentically. It is ok to come with whatever words we have to offer. It is ok to be silent in the best way we can muster. It is ok to be a little wiggly as we settle down into our awareness of the presence of God. We bring all of who we are into relationship with God through prayer—our grief, our sadness, our anger, our disappointments, our hopes, our joy.
No matter how or when our prayer takes place, it will always involve God meeting us (just as we are) in the present moment (just as it is). Over time, we may get “better” at prayer–perhaps able to sit silently for longer periods of time, more able to share our real struggles, perhaps more prepared to craft meaningful words with a grieving friend. But no matter how long we have sustained a practice or how “well” we pray, it isn’t like there is a Master Level of prayerfulness we can attain when we will stop learning, growing, and becoming. As St. Benedict tells us: Always we begin again. Each and every day. Each and every moment, we begin again.
February 26, 2021