A Disciplined Faith: Prayer
Fr. Alan Andraeas, Prior
Fr. Alan Andraeas, Prior
“Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my meditation.
Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God:
for unto Thee will I pray.”
Psalm 5:1-2
In the last article we examined the internal discipline of Chris-tian meditation. In this article we’ll turn our focus to the internal discipline of prayer. St. Clement of Alexandria (150-215 AD) wrote that prayer was nothing more than “converse with God.” Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Placing it as the central discipline of our monastic formation makes sense, doesn’t it? And yet prayer is one of the most complex and least understood facets of our faith.
Peter Kreeft wrote an excellent primer on prayer from the sacramental point of view. E. M. Bounds is considered by many to be the don of Protestant prayer. Richard Foster is a treasure trove of information concerning the discipline of prayer. Various ‘faith’ ministries follow such notables as Oral Roberts where teaching on prayer is concerned. Fr. Alexander Schmemann covers the Orthodox heartbeat of prayer through his seminal writings on the Lord’s Prayer. And the list goes on. The funny thing about each of these representative camps, however, is that they focus on just one aspect or layer of prayer. No one can truly “corner the market” on prayer because it’s simply too big. After all, it’s
prayer that joins us to God Who is above and beyond all. It’s our conduit to the eternal; only a hubris person would think that his teaching alone is the end-all of that which connects us to the other side of this present reality. But here we are, attempting in only a page or two to describe the essence of a monastic prayer life. Nevertheless, we must give it a try.
The internal discipline of prayer sits at the center of monastic formation for the simple reason that it ushers us before the throne of God, and no one who approaches the throne of God does so unchanged. Therefore, the act of prayer is synonymous with a willingness for growth and change in one’s life. The oppo-site is also true: if we are unwilling to change, we are equally quick to abandon prayer. A life of praying rightly (cf., James 4:3), then, will inevitably lead us to transformed passions and interests because, through the agency of prayer, we begin to think God’s thoughts rather than our own. Over time, prayer will shape our ‘spiritual eye’ so that we see the things of earth as God sees them.
The 17th century mathematician, physicist, and Christian philosopher, Blaise Pascal, is paraphrased as saying, “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every person, and it can never be filled by any created thing. It can only be filled by God, made known through Jesus Christ.” The actual quotation reads, “…the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself.” In any event, it’s a point in our favor. It means that something within us innately craves and cries out for God. Or as St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.” That does not mean, however, that prayer is instinctive in the same way that newly hatched sea turtles automatically crawl toward the water. Real prayer is something we must learn; otherwise, the disciples wouldn’t have to ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). That means prayer is something we need to foster and grow into—some days we will succeed and other days we will stumble, but to not pray at all is to fail. The heart of a monastic should recognize and cultivate this yearning for prayer, even more than our yearning for natural food.
Prayer, transforming prayer, can only begin by quieting the noise in our hearts; by subduing all that competes for our attention through the aid of the Holy Spirit even if we’re in the middle of a crowded, distracted environment. Believe it or not, but the Holy Spirit can surround you with a holy ‘hush’ even if your natural senses are being assaulted by confusion. Psalm 46 speaks about falling mountains and roaring oceans and quaking earth, yet in the middle of that din we find this beautiful encouragement: “Be still and know that I am God” (v. 10). The ability to hear God is the necessary prerequisite to prayer and the Holy Spirit will help us in that endeavor.
But what about prayer itself? The actual ‘stuff’ of prayer is not difficult or complicated. After all, didn’t Jesus teach His disciples to come to the Father like children (cf. Mark 10:15; Luke 18:17)? Even Paul says that we can approach God as our Abba or Daddy (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6). When we come to the Father in this fashion—with openness, honesty, and trust—He is faithful to meet us with heaven’s storehouse of timeliness, provision, and peace. In time we’ll find that our prayers are more like a reflex action to God’s prior initiative as, through our words, we confirm and intercede on earth for what He has already purposed in heaven.
All of that sounds very encouraging…until we come face-to-face with scriptural injunctions like 1 Thessalonians 5:17, “Pray with-out ceasing.” How do we pull that off? An impossibility, you say? Is there something helpful in the original Greek that just didn’t translate correctly into English? What does ‘without ceasing’ really mean? It’s our usual translation of the adverb adialeiptos and it literally means ‘uninterruptedly.’ And like any good adverb, its job is to modify or qualify the verb, in this case, ‘to pray.’ But that’s not all. The verb ‘to pray’ is itself rendered in the Greek as a present tense, middle voice, imperative of command—in other words, something akin to a military order with an exclamation point at its end. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of wiggle room. It’s clear what Scripture is asking of us: that our prayers should reflect constancy (Colossians 4:2) and perseverance (Luke 18:1; Romans 12:12; Ephesians 6:18). And while it is impossible to always be on our knees, Paul is certainly exhorting us to live in a devotional frame of mind that always recognizes the presence of God as a conversational companion. In fact, it is very possible to live in a spirit of abiding prayer even while engaged in the duties of daily life.
From a more practical point of view, Saint Brendan’s Rule of Life suggests several ‘methods’ of prayer that can help to achieve the ‘manner’ of prayer described above. Throughout the course of each day, the spiritual discipline of prayer can take the shape of spontaneous prayer, (e.g., a burst of praise, a plea for wisdom, a cry for help, an inter-cession in response to someone’s request), structured prayer (both private and corporate, particularly through the Liturgy of the Hours as offered in The Breviary of Saint Brendan’s), praying in the Spirit (this kind of prayer comes in two kinds: with the full engagement of our rational minds as the Holy Spirit gently guides our own words, and through the exercise of the ‘prayer language” of tongues or through the “groaning” of our hearts for those things that only the Holy Spirit knows (cf., 1 Corinthians 14:2, Romans 8:26-27) , and even the prayer of listening (submissive silence in order to hear God’s voice and to know God’s will, after all, prayer is communication and true communication is a two-way).
In the end, the earthly ‘grand prize’ of a disciplined prayer life is to carefully wed all mortal activity with the fragrance of prayer until it seems to take no time while concurrently occupying all of our time. It is this ability which allows us to tend to all of our necessary, tangible obligations while simultaneously—and on a much deeper and more profound plane—dwelling in prayer and adoration, fully participating in the divine breathings of the Holy Spirit. For St. Benedict’s own directions on prayer, take some time to read chapters 19, 20, and 52 in the Rule of St. Benedict.
In the next edition of The Navigator, we will examine the discipline of fasting. X
Rejoice!
Fr. Alan Andraeas
Hearken unto the voice of my cry, my King, and my God:
for unto Thee will I pray.”
Psalm 5:1-2
In the last article we examined the internal discipline of Chris-tian meditation. In this article we’ll turn our focus to the internal discipline of prayer. St. Clement of Alexandria (150-215 AD) wrote that prayer was nothing more than “converse with God.” Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Placing it as the central discipline of our monastic formation makes sense, doesn’t it? And yet prayer is one of the most complex and least understood facets of our faith.
Peter Kreeft wrote an excellent primer on prayer from the sacramental point of view. E. M. Bounds is considered by many to be the don of Protestant prayer. Richard Foster is a treasure trove of information concerning the discipline of prayer. Various ‘faith’ ministries follow such notables as Oral Roberts where teaching on prayer is concerned. Fr. Alexander Schmemann covers the Orthodox heartbeat of prayer through his seminal writings on the Lord’s Prayer. And the list goes on. The funny thing about each of these representative camps, however, is that they focus on just one aspect or layer of prayer. No one can truly “corner the market” on prayer because it’s simply too big. After all, it’s
prayer that joins us to God Who is above and beyond all. It’s our conduit to the eternal; only a hubris person would think that his teaching alone is the end-all of that which connects us to the other side of this present reality. But here we are, attempting in only a page or two to describe the essence of a monastic prayer life. Nevertheless, we must give it a try.
The internal discipline of prayer sits at the center of monastic formation for the simple reason that it ushers us before the throne of God, and no one who approaches the throne of God does so unchanged. Therefore, the act of prayer is synonymous with a willingness for growth and change in one’s life. The oppo-site is also true: if we are unwilling to change, we are equally quick to abandon prayer. A life of praying rightly (cf., James 4:3), then, will inevitably lead us to transformed passions and interests because, through the agency of prayer, we begin to think God’s thoughts rather than our own. Over time, prayer will shape our ‘spiritual eye’ so that we see the things of earth as God sees them.
The 17th century mathematician, physicist, and Christian philosopher, Blaise Pascal, is paraphrased as saying, “There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of every person, and it can never be filled by any created thing. It can only be filled by God, made known through Jesus Christ.” The actual quotation reads, “…the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself.” In any event, it’s a point in our favor. It means that something within us innately craves and cries out for God. Or as St. Augustine said, “Our hearts are restless until they find their rest in Thee.” That does not mean, however, that prayer is instinctive in the same way that newly hatched sea turtles automatically crawl toward the water. Real prayer is something we must learn; otherwise, the disciples wouldn’t have to ask Jesus, “Lord, teach us to pray” (Luke 11:1). That means prayer is something we need to foster and grow into—some days we will succeed and other days we will stumble, but to not pray at all is to fail. The heart of a monastic should recognize and cultivate this yearning for prayer, even more than our yearning for natural food.
Prayer, transforming prayer, can only begin by quieting the noise in our hearts; by subduing all that competes for our attention through the aid of the Holy Spirit even if we’re in the middle of a crowded, distracted environment. Believe it or not, but the Holy Spirit can surround you with a holy ‘hush’ even if your natural senses are being assaulted by confusion. Psalm 46 speaks about falling mountains and roaring oceans and quaking earth, yet in the middle of that din we find this beautiful encouragement: “Be still and know that I am God” (v. 10). The ability to hear God is the necessary prerequisite to prayer and the Holy Spirit will help us in that endeavor.
But what about prayer itself? The actual ‘stuff’ of prayer is not difficult or complicated. After all, didn’t Jesus teach His disciples to come to the Father like children (cf. Mark 10:15; Luke 18:17)? Even Paul says that we can approach God as our Abba or Daddy (Romans 8:15; Galatians 4:6). When we come to the Father in this fashion—with openness, honesty, and trust—He is faithful to meet us with heaven’s storehouse of timeliness, provision, and peace. In time we’ll find that our prayers are more like a reflex action to God’s prior initiative as, through our words, we confirm and intercede on earth for what He has already purposed in heaven.
All of that sounds very encouraging…until we come face-to-face with scriptural injunctions like 1 Thessalonians 5:17, “Pray with-out ceasing.” How do we pull that off? An impossibility, you say? Is there something helpful in the original Greek that just didn’t translate correctly into English? What does ‘without ceasing’ really mean? It’s our usual translation of the adverb adialeiptos and it literally means ‘uninterruptedly.’ And like any good adverb, its job is to modify or qualify the verb, in this case, ‘to pray.’ But that’s not all. The verb ‘to pray’ is itself rendered in the Greek as a present tense, middle voice, imperative of command—in other words, something akin to a military order with an exclamation point at its end. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of wiggle room. It’s clear what Scripture is asking of us: that our prayers should reflect constancy (Colossians 4:2) and perseverance (Luke 18:1; Romans 12:12; Ephesians 6:18). And while it is impossible to always be on our knees, Paul is certainly exhorting us to live in a devotional frame of mind that always recognizes the presence of God as a conversational companion. In fact, it is very possible to live in a spirit of abiding prayer even while engaged in the duties of daily life.
From a more practical point of view, Saint Brendan’s Rule of Life suggests several ‘methods’ of prayer that can help to achieve the ‘manner’ of prayer described above. Throughout the course of each day, the spiritual discipline of prayer can take the shape of spontaneous prayer, (e.g., a burst of praise, a plea for wisdom, a cry for help, an inter-cession in response to someone’s request), structured prayer (both private and corporate, particularly through the Liturgy of the Hours as offered in The Breviary of Saint Brendan’s), praying in the Spirit (this kind of prayer comes in two kinds: with the full engagement of our rational minds as the Holy Spirit gently guides our own words, and through the exercise of the ‘prayer language” of tongues or through the “groaning” of our hearts for those things that only the Holy Spirit knows (cf., 1 Corinthians 14:2, Romans 8:26-27) , and even the prayer of listening (submissive silence in order to hear God’s voice and to know God’s will, after all, prayer is communication and true communication is a two-way).
In the end, the earthly ‘grand prize’ of a disciplined prayer life is to carefully wed all mortal activity with the fragrance of prayer until it seems to take no time while concurrently occupying all of our time. It is this ability which allows us to tend to all of our necessary, tangible obligations while simultaneously—and on a much deeper and more profound plane—dwelling in prayer and adoration, fully participating in the divine breathings of the Holy Spirit. For St. Benedict’s own directions on prayer, take some time to read chapters 19, 20, and 52 in the Rule of St. Benedict.
In the next edition of The Navigator, we will examine the discipline of fasting. X
Rejoice!
Fr. Alan Andraeas