The subject of prayer came up at the breakfast table this
morning. I am in the habit of joining my
groom and his cohort from the Dead Theologians Society, an ecumenical but
largely Protestant, group that studies writings of various spiritual
authors. The motto is: Gotta
be Dead to be Read. The menu
runs heavily to Puritan writers but the odd Catholic sneaks in now and
again.
Over eggs and oatmeal, one of the participants ruminated on
the fact that the prayers of those folks in Pensacola that they be spared the
storm were answered, but those of the folks in New Orleans, who prayed the same
prayer were not. The discussion drifted
into the inscrutable ways of God who answered one prayer of petition and not
the other.
I completely understand the conundrum. As a result, I have pretty well ceased asking
for anything very specific in prayer, and I mentioned that in passing. That intrigued
the group. Prayers tend to be quite
specific and detailed in that circle. They
inquired what I did pray for.
With apologies to the monks I plagiarized this from I told
them: As You know and as You will, Lord
have mercy. The older I get, it
seems the fewer words I pray and the longer I spend doing it. The monks’ prayer and the Jesus prayer pretty
much cover it all when interceding as the result of some specific event:
pestilence, famine, plague, conquest—the usual.
I learned some essential truths of prayer when it comes to
specific events in my former, Jewish life.
When I was studying Jewish prayer traditions, the rabbi who taught the
class was careful to remind us that prayer is not just an individual
activity. Like all of Jewish—and
Christian—life it takes place in the context of community. And the pious Jew, like the faithful
Christian, is obliged to take that into account and to pray individually but
not really separately. I’ll never forget
the class. It has shaped by prayer (and
my shopping) to this day.
To drive home the effects of community, he gave the example
of a shopkeeper and a customer. Suppose, he said, the customer comes in and asks the price of something in the
shopkeeper’s case, with no intention of purchasing. The shopkeeper gets it out, displays it and
the customer just walks away. Is it
right, he mused, to raise the
shopkeeper’s hopes in such a circumstance?
A small disappointment, he acknowledged, but a real one and one we can avoid.
Do you think we have the obligation to do so?
About that time, a siren sounded and interrupted the
class. Are you tempted to pray that the ambulance is not going for someone you
love? he asked us. If so,
what you are really praying is that it is going for someone else because
whatever has happened has happened. You
are asking injury to be visited on another.
Better by far to ask G-d’s blessing on whoever it is. And to praise G-d, regardless.
Two little incidents from a conversion class more than
thirty years ago and they taught me so very much about how I as a Catholic try
to approach prayer. Individually but not separately. In community.
Thinking not just of what I want but of what serves the greater
good. And because I rarely have much of a grasp on any of that, my prayer becomes simple and direct. As You know and as You will....
I remember a similar prayer, from another Jewish rabbi: Let
this cup pass, but still, not my will but Yours…
These days, when I hear a siren, I say an Ave. When I hear a train whistle, I pray for the
poor and holy souls in purgatory. When I
am asked to pray for someone, like an exemplary Jewish woman I know, I simply
say what it is that is happening (they
have no wine) and leave the rest to Jesus.
For all the rest: As You know and as You will. Lord, have Mercy.
It’s enough. Praise
G-d!
Certainly there is no perfect way for us mere humans to pray, however ....
ReplyDeleteDespite my many prayers of "Thy Will be done," still in the back of my mind I remember: "Knock and it will be opened to you." And I knock, and then ask: "If it be Your will, please open the door."
Last Friday at mass Fr. John asked us to pray a Hail Mary with him for Rachel, who was considering abortion that day. Later, I told the Protestant bible study group of his words, and in their closing prayer, they too prayed for Rachel. This morning, the same priest said mass, and at the end, before the start of the adoration hour, he calmly said: "Last Friday I asked that people here pray for Rachel, who was scheduled for an abortion on Friday morning." Then a big smile broke out on his face: "She chose life."
And I think all at mass applauded, not for Rachel, but for God, who hears our prayers. And He loves when we ask of Him --- even when, in love, He cannot give us what we ask for.