St. Paul in his first epistle to the Thessalonians declares that "we are to pray without ceasing." Ever since I heard this verse the for the first time I have struggled to understand what exactly this means. Doesn't Paul realize that I have other things to do? I have blog posts to write, facebook status' to check and jobs to fret over. Beyond that, how in the world does anyone do anything without ceasing...let alone pray? Every time I pray the daily office I find I suddenly develop a sort of mystical A.D.D. My mind wanders from things such as what I am going to have for dinner to what did the Ghetto Boys really mean when they said their minds were playing tricks on them. I thought that maybe if I paid closer attention to what I was "praying" that I would be able to enter in on a deeper level. I have tried centering prayer, meditation and contemplation, once again to no avail. I have tried taking some time off from the daily office, no luck. In all these different incarnations of prayer I have felt more like my prayer was seizing as opposed to ceasing. In fact, I was feeling like I couldn't wait until prayer time was over.
Coming to wits end trying to "pray without ceasing" has led me to...well...prayer. I'm not sure if this is what St. Paul meant, but in my frustration in trying to "pray without ceasing" I discovered that the only thing I can do, is pray. One of the priests at my seminary told us a story once about a young man that was unruly in his school and was extremely mean to his classmates. After being dragged into the priest's office (who happened to be the headmaster of the school) the young man declared that he is mean to the other boys because that is part of his nature and identity. The priest challenged him to do something nice each day for a period of time and if he failed to do so, the priest would expel the young man. The young man protested that the priest was asking him to be somebody he wasn't, but to no avail because the priest declared this was not up for discussion. After a year of so of following this ritual of doing a good deed for one of his peers and informing the priest of what he had done every day, the young man actually started to become one of the good guys. Through the repetition of a behavior that initially was a challenge for the young man, he actually became that thing which he had been faking. The priests point in telling us this story was to communicate to us that there are going to be times when you don't feel like praying. He told us when you feel like that, "Just get on your damn knees and fake it!" My initial reaction to this statement was one of judgement and concern. Aren't we supposed to only pray and do pious works when we "feel" like it and when our heart is into it? No. As the people of God we are called to a life of discipline and conversation with the Lord. This does not mean to believe that ones ability to pray everyday should be chalked up as good works, but rather as a person that is able to deny their flesh and to pursue intimacy with the One who has created us.
But what about "pray without ceasing?" Sure, coupled with the grace of God, discipline can help in the pursuit of continual prayers. But still, pray without ceasing? What does that even look like? Thomas Merton, as part of the mystical tradition, discusses this possibility in many of his works. In his book Spiritual Direction and Meditation, Merton argues that prayer stems from our will. He writes:
Coming to wits end trying to "pray without ceasing" has led me to...well...prayer. I'm not sure if this is what St. Paul meant, but in my frustration in trying to "pray without ceasing" I discovered that the only thing I can do, is pray. One of the priests at my seminary told us a story once about a young man that was unruly in his school and was extremely mean to his classmates. After being dragged into the priest's office (who happened to be the headmaster of the school) the young man declared that he is mean to the other boys because that is part of his nature and identity. The priest challenged him to do something nice each day for a period of time and if he failed to do so, the priest would expel the young man. The young man protested that the priest was asking him to be somebody he wasn't, but to no avail because the priest declared this was not up for discussion. After a year of so of following this ritual of doing a good deed for one of his peers and informing the priest of what he had done every day, the young man actually started to become one of the good guys. Through the repetition of a behavior that initially was a challenge for the young man, he actually became that thing which he had been faking. The priests point in telling us this story was to communicate to us that there are going to be times when you don't feel like praying. He told us when you feel like that, "Just get on your damn knees and fake it!" My initial reaction to this statement was one of judgement and concern. Aren't we supposed to only pray and do pious works when we "feel" like it and when our heart is into it? No. As the people of God we are called to a life of discipline and conversation with the Lord. This does not mean to believe that ones ability to pray everyday should be chalked up as good works, but rather as a person that is able to deny their flesh and to pursue intimacy with the One who has created us.
But what about "pray without ceasing?" Sure, coupled with the grace of God, discipline can help in the pursuit of continual prayers. But still, pray without ceasing? What does that even look like? Thomas Merton, as part of the mystical tradition, discusses this possibility in many of his works. In his book Spiritual Direction and Meditation, Merton argues that prayer stems from our will. He writes:
The distinctive characteristic of religious meditation is that it is a search for truth which springs from love and which seeks to possess the truth not only by knowledge but also by love. It is, therefore, an intellectual activity which is inseparable from an intense consecration of spirit and application of the will...This affective drive of the will, seeking the truth as the soul's highest good, raises the soul above the level of speculation and makes our quest for truth a prayer full of reverential love and adoration striving to pierce the dark cloud which stands between us and the throne of God (55).
For myself, and possibly others, prayer is too much of an intellectual activity. The biggest challenge I find in praying is my struggle with doing it either too often in my head or in my heart. Growing up in a charismatic church I felt pressured to pray only from the heart. As an Anglican, I felt the tug to pray more from the head. I don't believe either of these traditions would advocate for such a practice, but that has been how I have encountered them. The real challenge of prayer for me is to find the mystical "sweet-spot" between heart and head. I think this is what Merton, as well as the others in the mystical tradition are advocating. In the same book Merton offers a beautiful analogy of this process.
Mental prayer is therefore something like a skyrocket. Kindled by a spark of divine love, the soul streaks heavenward in an act of intelligence as clear and direct as the rocket's trail of fire. Grace has released all the deepest energies of our spirit and assists us to climb to new and unsuspected heights. Nevertheless, our own faculties soon reach their limit. The intelligence can climb no higher into the sky. There is a point where the mind bows down its fiery trajectory as if to acknowledge its limitations and proclaim the infinite supremacy of the unattainable God. But it is here that meditation reaches its climax. Love again takes the initiative and the rocket explodes in a a burst of sacrificial praise. Thus love flings out a hundred burning stars, acts of all kinds, expressing everything that is best in man's spirit, and the soul spends itself in drifting fires that glorify the name of God while they fall earthward and die away in the night wind!
St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians states that we are "to be partakers of the divine image." All humanity has been created in the imago dei. If we are called to be partakers of the divine image, then we are to contemplate that part of us that is at the core of our being...namely, God. One can pray without ceasing by always being aware of the divine within themselves and in each-other. This is hard work. The Orthodox refer to this as "hesychasm." It takes a lifetime of commitment, failing, getting up again and continual pursuit of the divine. Because of our finitude it is impossible to reach this perfection of the divine image on this side of the parousia, but we can get real darn close.
St. Paul in his letter to the Philippians states that we are "to be partakers of the divine image." All humanity has been created in the imago dei. If we are called to be partakers of the divine image, then we are to contemplate that part of us that is at the core of our being...namely, God. One can pray without ceasing by always being aware of the divine within themselves and in each-other. This is hard work. The Orthodox refer to this as "hesychasm." It takes a lifetime of commitment, failing, getting up again and continual pursuit of the divine. Because of our finitude it is impossible to reach this perfection of the divine image on this side of the parousia, but we can get real darn close.
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