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The Gift of Prayer [Actual sermon delivered without text, so the mp3 on the website is somewhat different] My text for today comes from the first letter from Paul to the Thessalonians. Verse 5:17, one of the shortest verses says, “Pray without ceasing.” Talking about prayer in words seems futile, like leaving a trail of broken breadcrumbs. We all have different ideas about the language, the meaning, the practice, and the effectiveness, of prayer. Here are a few quotations I like very much:
The gift of prayer may not seem like such a gift when you have no deity to address, no right to ask for anything, no respect for the tired old formulaic prayers. “Pray without ceasing,” Paul exhorts us in scripture, but who can do such a thing? After all, we do have to sleep and eat, work and play, read and interact with other people. Muslims pray five times a day, more than some of us do in a year or a lifetime, but there is something to be said for finding some way to connect with something greater than ourselves. I think it was my colleague Forrest Church who told this story, about when his son Twig was little. Twig was trying to get his parents’ attention and show them an especially bright star. The grownups were talking about important grownup stuff and kept ignoring him until he drew himself up tall, raised his little voice, and said, “You be glad at that star!” Sometimes we forget how wonderful this world can be. The universe is sacred: should we not give thanks? Think back to how you learned about prayer. Who taught you? Do you have fond memories, or do you feel angry or afraid? Not all childhood prayer is warm and fuzzy. Some of you may have been punished for not getting the words of a memorized prayer right. Perhaps you were told that God would not love you if you did not pray every night on your knees. Perhaps you were laughed at for believing in God and wanting to communicate with God through prayer. These painful memories call for letting go of the pain, forgiving the misguided, and finding a better path for your spiritual growth. Or maybe you have fond memories. Were you a child like me? My mother taught us a common bedside prayer, long before we understood the meaning of the words: “Now I lay me down to sleep/ I pray the Lord my soul to keep/ If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. God bless Mama and Daddy”—and so on through a long list of family members and pets. Our pets—finches, canaries, parakeets, at first—were prayed for when we had to bury them in our little strip of land between the driveway and the house. The only prayer I remember was, “We love you”—and that seemed to be enough. I learned the prayers of the Episcopal Church by heart, primarily from singing in the choir every Sunday and participating in the liturgy week after week. The Lord’s Prayer is very commonly used across denominations, and it’s not a bad idea for children—and adults—to become familiar enough with it that they are not caught unawares at a funeral service. But though the traditional words are familiar to me, here’s an interesting one by C.K. Stead, from the Even Newer English Bible.
I left prayer behind when I left the Episcopal Church, or maybe it left me behind. What was the point? Songs came the closest to prayer, and they were songs of peace. Dona nobis pacem. Peace I ask of thee, O River. Or the words from Saint Francis of Assisi:
As a student in seminary, I joined Black Seminarians—the token white member immersed as a minority, an unfamiliar role for me. At one of our meetings we were asked to pair up. That was easy enough. Then we were asked to pray together. Gulp! “You go first,” I prompted Benjamin Smith. He prayed for me, and from him I began to learn how to pray out loud, without a script. It was just a conversation from the heart, That summer, as part of my ministerial training, I worked as a chaplain for one summer at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center. Suddenly I was asked to pray and I still felt very weak in that department. How could I pray for someone else? How could I live up to one patient’s belief that whenever two are gathered together in prayer, our prayers would be answered? Once again, I began to learn from the patients and their families. I would always talk with them for a while, to find out what was weighing them down, then I would pray for the children or pets or healing that was fervently wished for. Critical illness makes people very focused in their immediate concerns. At the end of my prayer I would give the others a chance to add to it, and that’s how I learned. Did it help? Perhaps it helped more than I realize. Dr. Larry Dossey has studied prayer extensively and is convinced of the power of prayer in healing. He speaks in terms of nonlocal prayer, which means that it is just as effective from around the world as in the patient’s room. He also says, if prayer doesn’t actually “go anywhere,” perhaps it is present everywhere. Imagine that! Just by opening yourself up to prayer, it’s right here—wherever you are! There have been times in large, contentious groups, when I have asked for a time of quiet for prayer or reflection—a time out, if you will, either to sit quietly or to walk around in silence. Always afterward there is a change in the tenor of the atmosphere and in the willingness of individuals to hear one another. Interior calm often affects exterior action. The labyrinth can have that kind of effect on me, by generating an inner calm so that the rest of the day’s frenzy diminishes in importance. Any kind of solitary walking can be an opportunity to listen to the world outside your own head. Birds call back and forth, a jet flies over, cars carry passengers to work, to the mall, to the doctor. Tuning in to the natural world or imagining the live of other people or listening to music gives me a larger context for my own thoughts. Carolyn Dower sent out a quote by Julia Cameron, from her book, God Is No Laughing Matter. Cameron writes,
A form of prayer shows up in many kinds of religion, as well it should. With the overabundance of evil, suffering, torture, and tragedy in the world, there is a need to counter them with positive energy and loving compassion. At Shinto shrines in Japan, people toss in a coin, clap twice to call attention from the multiple deities, bow their heads for a quick prayer, and go on their way. (They don’t have a clue why some people pray for so long at a time!) You’ll also find written prayers tied to a tree in Japan or inserted in cracks in the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Prayer Wheels may be small enough to spin in your hand, or spin on your computer desktop, or require pushing around in a large circle in a shrine. Prayer wheels are sometimes placed so that wind or flowing water, or even electric motors will turn them continuously. Whatever their size, sacred texts are enclosed, so that spiritual blessings are distributed in ever-widening circles. Prayer is a kind of open communication—rather like an open telephone line where neither party hangs up but neither party continually speaks ... maybe every once in a while one asks, "Are you still there?" "Yes." The difference with prayer is that you don’t have to ask if anyone is there: the universe, the Absolute, the ground of all being, the interdependent web of existence is always there, any time, any place. Prayer becomes the dialog that happens with … or without … words. The attitude to open communication is not only continually open, but also continually at peace ... another gift ... and thus eternally reverent. It is living constantly in the discovery of the Sacred and discovering that EVERYTHING is sacred. One of my favorite prayers is the 23rd Psalm, in a version sung by Bobby McFerrin and dedicated to his mother. I’d like to close with his words:
Amen, Blessed Be and Namaste
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Copyright
©2006, Live Oak Unitarian Universalist Church.