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Prayer is deliberate, active, aware involvement with the Sacred.

Many times over the past several years friends and acquaintances have asked me to elaborate on my prayer life. The questions have come most often after I have engaged in public prayer, whether before a congregation or in a small group situation. A few of these folks, who have some knowledge of my writing activities, have asked for elaboration of our discussions concerning their questions and concerns about prayer through the written word. My response has always been to point out any number of available books now existing on any number of levels of spiritual maturity. There seemed nothing I could add to the vast array already on shelves everywhere.

Yet the questions continue. Each of these people who are dear to me is intelligent, thinking, caring and in search of a richer, more satisfying prayer life, one leading to increased spirituality and depth. The desire each expresses echoes the longing in each of us to be nearer to the bright flame of God and God's love, to be more heedful of the plan God has for each of us, if we can but discern it in the fog of daily living. Much of my thinking has crystallized in the past few years to a point where prayer, as an integral part of living, much like breathing, comes at least as easily as conversations with visible people, occasionally even more readily. David, my pastor friend of several churches in Burma and candidate for a doctorate in theology, spoke to me during a dinner conversation saying I must write to share what I know of prayer in the day to day living. His gentle imperative clarified my unspoken desire to write of the song, the music in my life, God's gift to me of abiding prayer of praise.

In the hours of prayer during the year in which I lived on the mountain and now back within the city environment seeking the face of my Beloved, I have questioned what of value I can add to the multitudinous resources already available. I have only the synthesis of my story, a journey built on a life of prayer, flawed with so many mistakes and detours as it has been at times. It appears to me then, perhaps, simply sharing my journey in prayer, my trail up the mountain of my spiritual trek, the experiential account of a life lived centered on prayer, is the only approach I can offer realistically.

All of us, myself included, can be somewhat intimidated by the greatness and the rich spiritual lives of such as Mother Teresa, Teresa of Avila, Clare of Assisi, Julian of Norwich, Augustine, Francis of Assisi, Thomas Merton. The list is long. Perhaps, the story of a woman who chose to live on a mountain just beyond the vast metropolitan spread of Los Angeles, then followed the whispers on the wind to the North can demonstrate a life of prayer is possible even in the ordinariness of work and struggle. More than possible, it is a life with great joy and boundless peace. We need not so much seek to live extraordinary lives, but attempt to take the ordinary stuff of our lives and use the raw material in extraordinary ways.

Prayer Defined

  When I have been asked for a definition of prayer in a few words, I have answered very simply what I have learned: Prayer is deliberate, active, aware involvement with the Sacred. There are many other descriptions, countless meaningful definitions to which others may respond more easily. This is my definition and it works for me. How I have come to this understanding is the account of my faith, the essence of my journey. Where the trail I follow will still lead is an adventure yet to come, one promising to go higher into the mountains of prayer and praise, deeper into the hush of the canyons in which recesses my soul finds the realities of faith and courage.

As I began to formulate the outline for this story I spoke with my youngest daughter. Maggie was soon to be fifteen at the time and already was beginning to exhibit a developing depth and maturity of spirit she articulates with clarity. She echoed some of my unspoken observations about prayer. "Mom, prayer for me is like talking to my best friend or my parents, to my mom." She reminded me quite clearly, this is where prayer has always begun for me, just conversing and sharing my life, hopes, dreams and difficulties with my best friend, much as I have done with the dearest friend for most of the years of my life, Betty Jo. I remember my first prayer as a very small child, one quite common to many of us: "Now I lay me down to sleep..." Any more than not speaking to one I love, I cannot imagine not speaking to that Great Spirit who is Love, whose love frames my days and provides beauty and wholeness to my life.

The style most descriptive of my prayer life is one combining the wealth of the Western rite Catholic traditions, the freedom of Protestant customs, a little of the rich heritage of our native Southwestern sisters and brothers, occasional treasure from the storehouse of our Oriental family, music from Palestrini to new age Nicholas Gunn, much of the energy with which I live and the life I observe and in which I participate in the beautifully created natural world in which I live.

The God I know is a God of endless, delightful variety and generosity; and awareness of the gifts of daily life always provides something new to add to my prayers of thanks and praise. Most poignantly, though, the sense of community with God's children has brought me closer to the touch of the Sacred in my life. It is God who touches each of us through the human hands who reach into our lives; it is God's love delighting and drawing us closer in the passion and glory of human loving.

Yet, while all of these are facets of my spiritual journey, bright jewels making the hummingbird moments of joy, what evokes prayer first and forever is the gift of Love that is Great Spirit life. The Sacred has touched me, enfolded me in a love so glorious and beyond expression causing prayer to become, most truly, a love song. The words of Jeremiah have become reality, "I have loved you with an everlasting love." The rare treasure of perfect human love, even when possible, cannot come near the magnetic attraction of the consummate love of God in action.

No response is ever complete enough when Love becomes real. In those moments when I give myself freely and completely to Love, the freedom of Great Spirit takes control of my prayer life. The result is often one leaving me greedy for more, longing to be lost in and united with the presence of the Sacred forever. I sing with the Psalmist "Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me; and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

Prayer is Deliberate

Prayer, however, must always be intentional, deliberate; although this is not to deny the delightful spontaneity resulting from a consistent life of prayer and the freedom it can create. It is difficult to believe my loving relationships with those dear ones in my life could long withstand lack of communication, although some are strong enough to survive a certain amount of neglect. To be honest, I can be rather remiss in calling or writing to family members for inordinately long stretches of time. Fortunately, there is enough love, it seems, to forgive such inattentiveness; and my brothers and sister apparently are quite often just as unobservant as I. Contact with my parents, brothers and sister, much like prayer, is always deliberate, planned due to the time differences created by our widespread residences. Because we are as verbose as we are geographically scattered, those calls are always of some duration or the letters are long, modern epistles of the lives we lead. So it is with prayer, time set aside by design to allow for unrestrained, complete conversation, meditation and thought.

As a parent, I understand well the almost unconscious, always ready forgiveness a mother practices when she hears almost nothing from her young adult children for weeks and months at a time. It seems those of my next generation have inherited my difficulties with remembering how to dial a telephone or write a letter, although we occasionally seem to do a little better with the on-line electronic mail that is now so readily available. Yet, I love them still and do not concern myself to any significant degree with our sporadic communication. When letters arrive, an e-mail appears, or the telephone rings, the greeting is welcome and even more delightful for the waiting. Each of my offspring is aware of my love and confident of my acceptance, relying on the generosity of acceptance of where she or he is in living and in the value I place on her or his being without regard for our lack of communication.

Although siblings' and children's unreliability at communicating may be acceptable and easily forgiven, I cannot imagine not speaking regularly with one whom I love passionately, one who provides an emotional, committed center to my life. Whether the loved one be another human person with whom I might share living or, at the very least, occasional meeting, or the God who loves me more than I can comprehend, it is the nature of those who love passionately to turn to one another frequently to share that love. How else can the relationship grow, deepen, unite those who love except hey look into one another's eyes and speak with some degree of regularity, expressing the love binding them together? No human, committed relationship could long survive lack of intentional communication, which is, at the very least, disregard for the need to share the love to keep their hearts united. Love, by its very nature, demands a relationship and creative, life-giving encounter.

Prayer is Active

Just as we must commit to time with those we love, whether through letters or phone calls, or in the physical presence of those dear ones, we must take deliberate action to be present. Our prayer life requires action, as well; it cannot be passive. Prayer, as it is the experience of my life, is active. I will readily concede to the fact I am far from being a quiescent, withdrawn person. I am inarguably decisive and active, physically and mentally. My prayer life, then, naturally follows the pattern of my personality, as is true for all of us. Moreover, any lively and productive prayer life must be active. One cannot expect the great riches of God's love to bear fruit without vigorous participation in the life enabled by love. Each of us has personal style and energy unique to ourselves, and our prayers will reflect those characteristics.

The Gospel writers tell us often that Jesus withdrew from those around him to pray alone. Christ himself directed us not to pray with the intention that others would see us, but to seek God alone. "But when you pray, go into your room, close the door..." Were I even to think of attempting to close myself in a room and take the passage from Matthew's gospel literally, my prayer life would be of severely shortened duration. Rather than closing ourselves off in a physical sense, I believe Jesus was telling those who listened then and do still today hear or read his words, prayer is a time to set ourselves apart, to seek God without regard for what others might think of us for doing so. It is not necessary to flaunt one's prayers. The life of active, disciplined prayer will soon speak of and in itself.

This need to set time apart and in solitude does not preclude very necessary, life-giving communal prayer. Shared life in a community of faith adds depth and richness to prayer, unique characteristics not possible to achieve alone. Communal prayer offers the availability of resource and additional experience, wisdom and understanding , increasing our potential for growth and effectiveness. In the warm, accepting family who prays together, whether it be one consanguinely related or one chosen from like hearts and minds, there is opportunity to test ideas, seek unity of spirit, accept support and encouragement. The power of joined, focused prayer is unquestioned and vital to the life of any group desiring to grow strong in spirit and works. Our willingness to open ourselves, to share our pain and our joys, our fears and doubts, and to celebrate our gifts and achievements with others is an integral part of growth and adds focus and direction. This element of community also allows us to test our perceptions and to ensure the probability of integrity in our spiritual focus.

The more productive times of prayer for me in terms of focus and opportunity for insight and growth come in two or three forms, depending on the hour, the weather, my physical energy and the availability of a solitary hiking trail, a piano, or simply computer or paper and pen. Many times over the past several years I have withdrawn to the coast to walk along the edge of the surf, to a mountain trail along a rushing, singing creek or just to walk alone where there is no other person. I seem to pray with the most concentrated energy when I am moving, particularly on steep, rocky trails of a mountain. This time of physical effort and concentration frees my mind to soar upward and into the clear, open skies above me. The analogies I see around me in the canyons and mountainsides where I occasionally struggle physically bring spiritual realities into sharp focus. Since I have returned to a town and the trails require more effort to reach, I find I have developed other prayer patterns developing more clarity and helping to reduce constant difficulties with distraction.

Music, since my earliest memories, has been an avenue leading me towards closer relationship with Great Spirit. The majesty of Bach, the joyful abandon or passionate love of Mozart, the grandeur of Beethoven, the praise of Handel; all serve to sing blessing for me. Although much of my life until I was reaching midyears reflected my effort to keep my emotional responses most private and, therefore, protected, producing music always has afforded me the freedom to express all my emotions and to pray with abandon, albeit often without spoken words unless the words were those of someone's hymn.

Although music is a part of my soul and always will be a vital element of my prayer life, now it is no longer necessary as an avenue of emotional release. One of the fruits of my long toiling in the garden of my life, one watered by tears and fertilized by prayer's provision of spiritual nourishment, is an increasing integration of emotional and spiritual being into one expressive, growing person. The fragrance of prayer, this symphony of music, is acceptance of the love who is God into every corner of my soul's garden; and it has given me the freedom to be more emotionally available to myself and to others.

Prayer is Aware

  Just as a healthy prayer-filled life is deliberate and active, so too is it essential for our prayer to be completely aware of the One with whom we engage in such intimate communication. Here, in my thinking, is the crux, the very heart of prayer. This one word: aware speaks to how we relate to our Creator, how we understand ourselves in consideration of this God who has created and who maintains our very beings through the act of pure and complete love. To be aware by definition is to be cognizant, to observe, to be mindful, to know. Rather than being merely a passing conscious thought of God as somehow present on the fringes of one's life, this awareness is the attentiveness to a very personal, involved God, who lives in each of us in vitality and creativity, and in the beautiful world created for our use.

The Hebrew word Shekinah, She-Who-Dwells-Within, is the term derived from the verb shakhan, "to dwell" and expresses the presence of the Spirit who is God, divine, compassionate presence. This is Breath of life, pure Love who, in the words of the Psalmist, we recognize as having "...created my inmost being, you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;..." (from Psalm 139, NIV)

Prayer awakens our awareness to a personal, involved God, one who, as Augustine wrote, loves each of us as though there were but one of us to love. Beginning to know the truth of unconditional love teaches us this truth, we each are completely lovable, totally acceptable. Then, when we begin to see ourselves as desired, beloved children, when we pray with the confidence that such acceptance engenders, we begin to see ourselves as God sees us; we begin to love and care for ourselves. Probably the most difficult challenge for each of us is this embracing of ourselves, acknowledging what which makes us human, and gratitude for being who each of us is. We are far too accustomed to the put-downs passing for humor, so rampant in comedy routines and apparently friendly conversations today, too accepting of the attitude telling us we somehow always fall short and will never be quite "good enough."

We live in a society characterized by encouragement to compete and participate in one-upsmanship, one demanding proof of our worth by the clothes we wear, the cars we drive, the neighborhoods in which we live, the schools we attend and to which we send our children. We neglect the reality, one speaking to us of Shekinah who creates and loves us, celebrates and desires our relationship. We have no need to prove anything, no requirement to earn what is already ours. Even an infinitesimal suggestion this might be true leads us to awed prayer, to moments when we meet with the God who loves and forgives us unconditionally.

Our journey into the bountiful storehouse of God's love for too long has been hindered, not only by unhealthy cultural and familial attitudes, but by the practices and teachings of our religious structures. We have been taught to pray using a theological attitude of debasement, one inhibiting growth in trust and hope, at the very least, and even destructive of our knowledge of God's love for us, at the worst. For far too many years, hundreds since the rise of the abominable heresies of Jansenism and Puritanism, we have been subjected to an ecclesiastical climate of false humility, the effects of which have permeated every facet of Western culture, infecting the very atmosphere with negative, soul-damaging attitudes denying the beauty, goodness and giftedness of God's glorious human creation.

My story begins with this very premise, my belief I was not good enough, I could never measure up to the demands and expectations placed on me. There is nothing unusual in the circumstance; many of us experience often unreasonable expectations and issues of control in our early lives and relationships. My adventures along the trails of prayer and growth were governed for many years by the sometimes desperate need to feel accepted, lovable. Perhaps, for those whose attitudes were unaccepting and demanding, I was not able to meet their expectations in truth. However, after many pain-filled years of the effort to be perfect, after uncounted hours of anguish knowing I would never achieve the level of approval where I could be loved for who I am by these particular people in my life, I began to reassess such impossible demands in the light of the Love as it daily became more real to me. I began to read Isaiah's words again and again, to let them permeate my soul in the silence and solitude of my places of prayer, "I have summoned you by name; you are mine....Since you are precious and honored in my sight, and because I love you..." (from Isaiah 43, NIV) I began to reassess my attitudes of self-worth in the light of how I lived my identity as the person I was realizing had talent, goodness and in whom many found support and encouragement.

Slowly I began to open my eyes to the evidence of my life, the years of evidence demonstrating clearly how much God loves me and accepts me for who I am with all the facets of my personality, all my mistakes, without demand I be anything other than who God created. I began to recognize how Great Spirit of all love has led me continually, provided for every need, given comfort in distress, light in the darkness, joy in the night. While there have been months and years of financial struggle, occasionally physical difficulty, loss of employment and relationship, I have become increasingly aware of the moment by moment Presence who makes the endless, delightful variety of every living being and all the rocks that adorn the mountainsides, the glorious display of flowers, the majestic trees. Truly, even the rocks cry out praise to such a God as this.

As I increasingly am more attuned to this Love, occasionally 'tough love,' to be sure, as I let my eyes see yesterday's path, I also have begun to understand I am today the result of all the yesterdays. Although God truly holds my future and the future of each of us while leaving us free to choose for ourselves, I know surely God is present to me in the moments now. I would not be aware of the Sacred in my life, who is Love, in the way I am now had I not lived my yesterdays. For those days, for all the mistakes, for the pain, for the tears, for the fight in me keeping me going, I can give nothing but praise. I meet Great Spirit, I touch the Sacred in the present moment because of who I am, not whom I might become tomorrow. I meet with Shekinah and know creative, giving love, not because I do anything deserving of this everlasting, unfailing gift, but because I am desired and loved, because I am.

This marvelous gift of the present moment, of living in the now of life, requires balance and effort and does not occur without significant pain and struggling through he fog of fear. While it is essential to be prudent and prepared for tomorrow, my effort to remain focused on the God who is present to me now is of incredible value to my prayer life. Karen, pastor of my faith home in southern California, has the grace of saying occasionally we achieve spiritual authority only through experiencing the pain of living. The "pain of being human," to quote Eugene Kennedy, brings us to our knees in awed awareness of the God who orders all the chaos in our lives and brings beauty and peace with the order.

We see how far short of living out the love and possibility in our lives we come, how we human caretakers of this beautiful world continually harm it and each other, how little we value each other and the fragility of this planet. We close our eyes to the anguish we see vividly portrayed in the news magazines and on television of families of countless massacred victims, of lovely birds strangled when caught in plastic can rings, of barren hillsides scored by blackened rivulets and covered with burnt and dead trees caused by the careless match of a passerby. Yet, these are the moments when we find the grace in our hearts to care, to know that love is always stronger than hate, that because we care and work towards a better world, God is still moving among us, through us. Our efforts to preserve our world and our relationships are our prayers in action.

Such intimate awareness leads us, then, to complete involvement where we might touch the Sacred in our lives. Charmaine White Face wrote of one of the old holy men of her tribe, the Oglala Lakota, recounting his thoughts saying every step each of us takes on earth should be a prayer. When we pray we stand on sacred ground. He further spoke, saying the power of a pure and good soul is in every person's heart and will grow as a seed as each of us walks in a sacred manner. He concluded by stating if every step is a prayer, then it follows that each of us would always be walking in a sacred manner. How better to live than to walk each step so aware and involved with the purity of Love who keeps us in being, able thus to see the evidence of love first and let the vision guide and enable each moment of our living. Then we shall truly touch the Sacred in our lives and we shall live as a people of joy, ones who sing love songs to the One who loves each of us best.

This brings to mind the year I spent with the School Sisters of Notre Dame during the mid-1960's. I had dreams of becoming a professed sister, ones I eventually understood, were unrealistic, and I was, at that time, unaware how little I "fit the mold" of a religious, even as the product of small-town, traditional, conservative religious background. I fit it even less now, although the life of contemplative prayer calls to me still. However, I took from that year considerable benefit in understanding the concepts of meditation and contemplative prayer.

During the time before entering the convent and for some time after, I left I spent several weekends with sisters of several different orders, most living the Benedictine rule. It was through the generosity of these unselfish women I learned the reality of Benedict's statement, "Prayer is work and work is prayer." It is an attitude towards prayer I incorporated into my daily living then and have retained since. This attitude says every action I take is one of prayer, every breath, every thought to be in the posture that all is praise and prayer to the God who loves us all. It is an attitude bringing me to involvement in each moment of my life where I might reach out and, perhaps, touch the Sacred for an instant.

The power of this constant focus, although somewhat distorted at times by my very human failings, sidetracked by distractions and loss of direction, keeps me centered and makes prayer as normal as breathing. It is only a step from that active, aware involvement to searching and beginning to find the unity that brings glory beyond expression to the moments of my days. Teresa of Avila wrote in Interior Castle, describing the one who has moved into the garden of this castle is much like the butterfly who can never be still, constantly moving from blossom to blossom, reveling in the sweetness of the nectar she finds therein.

Living as I did, on the mountain with several varieties of hummingbirds, vividly illustrated such words. I watched often, in utter delight, at my small friends who returned time after time throughout the days to the feeder I hung in front of my cabin. Their constancy reminded me of my similar return, constant and sure to that Love, the nectar of my living, the joy of being, the Source of all peace. In the attitude of prayer I find sustenance and life.

As I reach out with often weak hands, groping in the dark and confusion of human living, to touch the Sacred, I have begun to hear the music of the Love for me and, indeed, Love for each of us. Since music is such an integral part of my life, I let it speak and lend words of soothing harmonies to the dim corners when there is fear and pain, allow its gentleness reach in and relieve the ache. I have begun to listen more carefully to the words of many popular love songs with a focus on what these songs say, how they are constructed. As I have listened I have developed clearer understanding of our human loving which is but a reflection of the great Love God offers unendingly.

We sing love songs filled with longing, with tears, with pain. We cry them out on the street and in our homes, searching for the perfect love. I began to see prayer as a reaching out to touch the Sacred in our lives in the same way, and more, than we reach for accepting, complete love from each other. Prayer truly, then, is a love song of longing in the loneliness, tears in the night, joy in fulfillment, gratitude for acceptance of pure love. Prayer is a love song uniting us with the Divine Presence in our lives and opening us to allow the Sacred to enfold and love us even more.
 
 

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