Since becoming an oblate, I more or less thought my prayer life would some become easier, more dedicated, more focused. That's not happened. I'm reminded of this little story told in Desert Wisdom: Sayings from the Desert Fathers [ed. Yushi Nomura (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1982)] about the Desert Elder Agathon: The brothers asked Abba Agathon: Father, which of the virtues of our way of life demands the greatest effort? He said to them: Forgive me, but there is no effort comparable to prayer to God. In fact, whenever you want to pray, hostile demons try to interrupt you. Of course they know that nothing but prayer to God entangles them. Certainly when you undertake any other good work, and persevere in it, you obtain rest. But prayer is a battle all the way to the last breath. (103)
For me "the hostile demons" come in a variety of ways: old habits that linger on into my later years: procrastination, a second glass of wine when I really don't need it, an annual March ennui, the low grey clouds, rot-gut eating, low-grade headaches. Some are minor demons, at least one major, but all hostile nonetheless. I can say the morning office with some profit, but withhout any semblence of intensity. The only real thing I continue to know during these past few days is that I'm aware that prayer is hard work. Agathon is right. No one ought to have any delusions about how hard it is to pray. It doesn't come naturally. God must help us.
4 comments:
Andy, I don't know whether to be heartened or discouraged by your post. In large part I'm heartened because I, too, am experiencing difficulties in my prayer life. Since our weekend with the sisters I was starting to get it somewhat together. I was setting aside time each day, focusing on my initial reading and writing my thoughts afterward, even finding myself "strangely warmed" during CP Monday - to the point that I was in tears. But the past few days I've returned to my more typical MO. In other words, struggling, fighting it, finding excuses, procrastinating, etc.... It IS hard, isn't it?! That's the part where I get discouraged. If you are struggling, you who I know are so much closer to God than am I, you who are so much more practiced and experienced, you to whom I look for guidance and education, then what hope do I have?! I hope you don't mind me being so honest - I would much rather hear of your struggles than have you hesitate to share them. In the end, I am still more heartened than discouraged. I applaud your courage and honesty. I wish I could demonstrate even a fraction of that to the world (and to myself). See you tomorrow! Keep on keeping on........
Danielle, as I was writing the post I wondered if I really should publish it and finally decided to do so. Although I've never seen "transparency" mentioned as some sort of a virtue, I have a step-grandson whose young twenty-something life I would describe as utterly transparent, and I find him remarkably refreshing. So I'm going for transparency.
Let's admit it: yes, I may seem more practiced and experienced, but that's mostly because I'm older than you; and being older, I suppose, has its privileges, healthy honesty one of them. I'm very tired of pretence and pretending. It seems to me that even an honest admission of struggle (think of Mother Theresa) is prayer enough both for ourselves and for God. And then there's the fact that our contemplative mothers and fathers have often spoken of prolonged dry spells, when even the desire to pray disappears (and they say, so does God himself) and all they can do is wait. And wait and wait and wait. While I don't think I'm that dry (I may be some day), I am experiencing a lack of rain, all of which may be God's way of preparing me for a good downpour or some welcome misting. Most importantly, neither of us must be unduly discouraged when struggling. God will tend to us as we anticipate his healing, his waters. So for the duration, let's both be in solidarity with the voices of those who wait in the psalms and carry on.
And, Danielle, I appreciate your words very much. More than you might realize.
Andy,
Like Danielle, I appreciated your post. I remember reading that monks and priests frequently suffer "arid periods," when prayer seems to dry up completely. I hope this arid period is short-lived, and, as you noted, the dark weather may have quite a lot to do with it.
June said in Patrick's Bible Class Sunday that you're planning a move to Georgia, which made me sad. I'll greatly miss your encouragement of daily prayer and your vast knowledge of Christian thought. Your support of my spiritual search has been more important to me than I can say.
Best wishes,
As always,
Mason
Mason, thanks so much for your kind words and encouragement. I had opportunity to speak with Danielle yesterday, letting her know a good bit about my general murk and fogginess in prayer; it has to do, I'm convinced with our intended move to Georgia. It's not so much that I dread the move; much more it's that I'm already saddened by realizing that I'll be distant, at least in miles, from all of you who mean so much to me. When taking Chelsea out for a ride on Saturday (she's learning to drive), I fairly well found myself near crying, as I was coming to grips with the loss that I'll experience if and when the house gets sold. Now that I have some awareness of what's going on inside, I'm slowly learning to release my anxieties and sadness and let the Lord work his healing in the Psalms and in his Good Quiet.
In all of this I want you to know that I will not be far away spiritually from any of you; and in fact I hope to return to Kentucky often. Several friends have opened up their homes to June and me, and we will certainly often get back to see you all as much as possible.
Thanks again, Mason, for your words of encouragement. And I also think you're right about the effect the gray clouds of March have upon a lot of us. Sometimes our fogginess does indeed match the general mist and murk in which we've been waking up these morning. You can bet that I'd love to see a beautiful rising sun any day now!
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