This is the third entry in our series THE ONLY NECESSARY THING, in which we are learning what prayer is, how it “works”, and different forms of prayer we can implement into our spiritual rhythms.
Prayer can be intimidating. I have heard it often from people in our community that I have sat with. The can be a real struggle to find the right words in prayer that articulate what what we want to say to God, or an external pressure to get the words “right” in order to be acceptable. Sometimes our prayer language is rife with little filler phrases that take up space while we grasp at what we can to make the most of our time with God. I wonder if part of the problem is that we think by our many words someone, somewhere, might hear us and eventually respond. This is why I have recently become enamored by “little prayers” as an antidote to my anxious striving for the perfect combination of words to manifest God’s presence in my life.
A single word uttered from an open heart can do more for us than any amount of anxious babbling. In the previous sermon series exploring the Sermon on the Mount I was once again struck by Jesus’ guidance on what makes a good prayer life. In Matthew 6 he offers us two foils - the hypocrite and the pagan - that we are to avoid emulating. Hypocrites, like many of the religious elite of Jesus’ day, like to stand on the street corners proclaiming their beautifully constructed prayers so they might be seen by others as righteous. They have given up being heard by God, and seek admiration from their neighbors for their grand religiosity. The pagans, meanwhile, heap words upon words, hoping that eventually their distant and disinterested gods might finally come to meet them and do their bidding. Jesus says we are to do neither; rather, we are to let our words be few, “for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (Matt. 6:8).
There is a tremendous amount of emotional and mental debris floating within us and around us that must be addressed if we want to see God clearly. When unacknowledged, this debris filters into our prayers and obscures our ability to know God’s character and will in such a way as to form our prayer life. This is why simplicity in prayer can be so powerful; we choose to preference quality over quantity as a way to bypass the anxious dross of our interior worlds and ground ourselves in God.
Jesus offers his audience another either/or challenge in this little parable:
To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’
“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’
“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.” (Luke 18:9-14)
On the surface, the meaning of this parable is clear. The Pharisee self-justifies - his appeal to God is less to ask anything but rather to prove he is worthy in contrast to those lesser than himself, and to present a list of his spiritual accomplishments that show he deserves to be in God’s presence. The tax collector however, a pariah amongst his own people for his collaboration with empirical oppression, puts himself at the mercy of God without any illusions. He reminds us that the beginning of prayer is humility, placing ourselves in the right posture before God, recognizing who is who.
This brings us to one of the core little prayers of the Christian tradition:
"Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me (a sinner).”
What is simply known as the Jesus Prayer finds its origins most likely in the Egyptian desert fathers and mothers of the 5th century. Variations of it are found throughout the writings of the time; in one instance it was discovered etched into the wall of a cell in an ancient monastery. The form of the prayer is an adaptation of the utterances of the lowly tax collector and many others throughout the gospels who cry out to Jesus for mercy. There are three components to this simple prayer that contain for us multitudes:
The power of “the name”. Not only do we pray in Jesus’ name as an invocation of his authority, we acknowledge that someone’s name is self-disclosure of their character (who they are) and will(what they desire). Beginning with the name hones in our prayers and cuts through the anxiety we might feel that we are not listened to or cared for.
The admission of being a “sinner”. Not all early versions of the prayer carry this final phrase. While in the Christian West we tend to think of “sinner” in a law court setting, in which we have broken the rules and deserve punishment, in Eastern Christianity sin is more analogous to an illness that needs healing. We don’t shame people for having a broken leg or developing cancer; we get them to the Great Physician. Sin is what eats away at our true selves, the Imago Dei of human nature.
“Mercy” is the bridge between God and humans. In a posture of humility, recognizing who is who, we trust God to determine what mercy looks like in our lives, not what we would insist on for ourselves. It is trust that God knows what is best.
The beauty of the Jesus prayer is found in repetition. The cadence of the prayer becomes like breathing to us, and as we keep uttering the words the truth of them sinks down deeper and deeper into our souls. The words moves from our lips to our heart. I believe it can become so woven into us that our spirits continuously cry out even when our mouths aren’t.
God is always near us, calling to us; our response is to quiet ourselves by saying, “here I am”. I have always loved this little moment in the early life of Samuel the prophet. As a young boy he is devoted to working in the temple under the tutelage of Eli, who sons were considered scoundrels and unworthy of their father’s legacy. 1 Samuel 3 begins with this interesting comment: “In those days the word of the Lord was rare; there were not many visions.” As the boy is sleeping in the temple near the ark of the covenant, three times he hears someone call him. He runs to Eli, thinking the voice is his mentor, who promptly tells him to go back to sleep. When it happens a fourth time, Eli realizes it is the Lord calling the boy. He instructs Samuel to respond: “Speak, for your servant is listening.”
For my money, Samuel’s response of “here I am!” is one of the best little prayers we can pray. It so succinctly names the I/Thou relationship by acknowledging presence before anything is asked. It is from that recognition we can then hear the Voice clearly. Over the years I have developed a meditation that blesses the fact that God is present to me wherever I am: “Here I am, here You are, and here we are together.” I then begin to name the other little things in my immediate surroundings between the awareness of my presence and God’s, so that everything finds its place with us, together.
Centering Prayer is a powerful way we can allow a single word or phrase to bring us into deep abiding communion with God. There have been many variations of centering prayer over the centuries, but the Cistercian monk Thomas Keating in the last century wrote and taught extensively on the subject. He begins by recognizing, “the sacred word is a symbol of consenting to God’s presence.” It is a way to disconnect from the ordinary flow of thoughts and feelings that so easily distract us so we might learn to be still and know. We begin to recognize Christ in us already, the Spirit gifted us at baptism, and we become more aware of the work he is already doing behind the scenes.
Here is a simple way to practice centering prayer:
Get in a posture of relaxation and receptivity. Regulate your breathing by slowly drawing in breath through your nose, gently holding it in your chest, and then exhaling through your mouth. Our hearts and minds will follow our body’s posture. If we are fidgety or scrunched up, it’s an indicator of our troubled mindset. Opening up our bodies helps us open our minds and hearts.
Use a psalm or other passage of scripture to help you tune your focus on God. I like to finish a sacred reading with a variation on the last lines of Psalm 46: “Be still, and know that I am God. Be still, and know that I Am. Be still, and know. Be still. Be.”
Allow a sacred word or phrase to act as an anchor in centering prayer. It can be as simple as “mercy” or “grace” or “Jesus”. The goal is not to analyze the word itself, figuring out what it means; rather, you are letting the word act as a representation of God’s presence. Hold the word in your mind’s eye and repeat it softly to yourself.
Intrusive thoughts and feelings are not only normal, but inevitable. The goal is to not turn from the sacred word and fight them until they’re gone, that gives distractions more power over you than they deserve. Rather notice them and just let them flow past. Keep coming back to your word.
Let the word move from your lips to your heart until it becomes part of your breathing. Each time you practice centering prayer, try to exist in that quiet space a little longer than the previous time.
The 19th century Orthodox Bishop Theophan the Recluse wrote, “In prayer, the principal thing is to stand before God with the mind in the heart, and to go on standing before Him unceasingly day and night, until the end of life.” There is a place for us to offer what we are feeling and thinking up to the Lord, but too often we confuse ourselves by our many words, betraying the fact we don’t believe Our Father already knows what we need. Integrating little prayers, a single word or phrase, into our daily rhythms will help us to stand before God with a pure heart, seeking the one thing to be desired above all else.